Chapter One – Not Quite Out

I meet Dan on a Monday afternoon, when the cold September weather cuts across campus and catches fallen leaves in little tornadoes. My first lecture of the year starts in an hour, and the notes I’ve spent all morning trying to revise slip from my mind as soon as I reach the Students’ Union.

The doors slide open to let me in and I shake some of the cold from my hands. It’s busy so I join the queue for food, counting coins into my palm. My stomach rumbles at the smell of hot food and I’m looking down, hoping no one heard, when the door opens again.

A gust of wind comes through with the next group of people, and everyone around me looks up. A few leaves have skipped across the mat and I’m caught watching them for a second, letting a gap open up in the queue.

I look up, a moment late, and see Lilley for the first time in months. She’s remarkably close, like she’s considering joining the queue, and freezes when she sees me. I regret smiling at her almost before the movement’s finished because the guy she’s with notices and frowns between us.

‘Who’s this, Lil?’

‘Just Will,’ she says, sighing and doing a great job of looking anywhere but at me. Nice. It’s too late to ignore each other now and she presses her lips together. ‘Have you seen Cassie, yet?’

‘No.’ I’m amazed I manage to make a sound.

I’d love to be able to ask Lilley how she is, but she shrugs and turns to face the guy she’s with. I haven’t given him a second glance. Lilley’s dark hair is a little bit tangled at the back, messed by the wind, and it’s cut differently to the last time I saw her. Between staring at her and imagining teasing out those knots with my fingers, I’ve almost worked out how to speak again when she starts to walk away.

‘Fine. See you around.’ She catches the guy’s arm in hers without looking back at me.

I don’t even say bye. I just watch her go, feeling like I’ve missed a step, and try to process that incredibly awkward exchange with my ex-girlfriend.

A gap has opened ahead of me in the queue, so I shuffle forward with my eyes back on my shoes.

I haven’t spoken to Lilley since I dumped her before summer exams and I definitely hadn’t even considered that she’d be the first person I have a conversation with this semester.

I don’t think I recognise the guy she was with, so I guess he must be someone from her course. Maybe I should have paid him more attention. The only one of Lilley’s friends I ever got on with was Cassie because, like this year, some of her biology modules were shared with my medicine course. Cassie’s easy to spend an evening with. Lilley’s… difficult.

It’s not like we didn’t get on while we were dating. It simply became clear after a few months that we just expected opposite things from a partner: I wanted to spend every moment with her, and two hours a week with me were enough for Lilley. Officially, I ended the relationship. It saved her feeling like she’d made me cry.

I’m slow to look up when I reach the food counter, still thinking I should have said something pleasant to her, and make a highly unattractive ‘hmm?’ when the guy serving asks me what I want.

He’s very tall. I have to tip my head back to make eye contact with him and, once again, I’ve forgotten how to speak.

He’s smirking at me.

I clear my throat, shuffle the coins in my suddenly sweaty hand, and drop one. Shit. I force a laugh as I bend to pick it up and stand again with a face like a tomato, thinking I’m quite lucky to have not hit my head on the way.

‘Hi—sorry, lost in thought.’ Terrible laugh.

He’s still smirking, waiting for me to pull myself together like he has all the time in the world.

‘Jacket potato, please.’

‘It happens to us all,’ he says, giving me a bright grin and turning around to grab a polystyrene box. Where’s that accent from? He stretches his neck to look back at me and I blink a few times. ‘What do you want on it?’

‘Just cheese, please,’ I manage, cringing at the rhyme.

‘Here you go. Don’t drop it.’ He winks, flashing the blue of his irises.

Something in my chest shatters, like a hammer to ice.

A pin-badge on his shirt tells me his name is Danieland I’m a moment away from introducing myself, as if he’s asked for my name. But he hands me the box, the dark ink of a tattoo showing under his sleeve, and moves seamlessly to the next customer and my chance has gone. I haven’t even said thanks. Burning bright red, I shuffle towards the till and pay with my coins.

I walk away, moving blindly through the busy room, and forget to collect a plastic fork.

I’m through the door and back outside before I realise my mistake and there is no way I’m going back in there to make a fool out of myself. No, thanks. Instead, I make the only slightly less uncomfortable walk into one of the other food outlets and grab one of their forks.

I perch against a soggy brick wall, facing away from the SU, and spend a minute just staring into empty space. As lunch times go, that couldn’t have gone much worse. Well, it could—

I could have dropped the food.

God, I can’t get that teasing wink out of my head. I start eating, trying to distract myself, but it’s not going well. I feel a bit sick. Every breath is uncomfortable, like the shards of ice are cutting my lungs. Daniel’s accent is unlike anything I’ve ever heard and I’m certain I’m still blushing.

There’s one real reason I chose Keele University above all others: the LGBT society. Specifically, the male co-president. After slipping away from my parents at the open day three summers ago, I made a beeline for the society stands and stumbled to a stop in front of a rainbow flag personalised with black sharpie names. The co-president grinned at me, stunned me with his blonde and cherry hair, and told me very confidently that everyone was welcome at their society. The society meets every Monday, and I’ve been going as a semi-regular ally for a whole year next week.

Ally, because I still haven’t quite worked out how people pronounce the words I’m bisexual.

Anyway, my failed relationship with Lilley taught me something: I don’t even want a relationship at the moment. I was overly clingy and desperate to make everything perfect, but I can’t say I’ve missed putting kisses on the end of texts and spending the night in her room. My degree work fills the evenings and I have placements this year, so I’m not going to have time to live across two bedrooms.

Daniel’s voice and that sneak-peek of a tattoo are almost enough to convince me otherwise.

I hadn’t realised tattoos were a thing for me until about ten minutes ago. Maybe it wasn’t the ink so much as the tone of the muscle beneath the illustrations—maybe it was his voice, or his white teeth, or the knowing grin when my cheeks burned red.

I crush my mostly empty polystyrene box into the nearest bin and turn, ready to leave lunch behind and get to my first lecture of second year.

Daniel walks straight into me and I make a noise a bit like a startled hen.

‘Sorry,’ he mutters, head down and blue eyes reluctant to look up.

Where’s that smirk gone? I can feel my pulse in my throat and swallow quickly.

‘It’s fine, it’s me. I’m not with it.’ I duck my head, trying to see his face. ‘You okay?’

He finally glances up and, recognising me, turns pale. Like the sort of face you make when you realise the deadline you thought was tomorrow is, in fact, today.

‘Yeah,’ he breathes, right before shaking his head. ‘Sorry.’

And he’s gone.

I watch him march up the hill to the library, hands stuffed in his pockets and ears hidden in his shoulders. Has he just been sacked? Why else would he be leaving work at lunch time? I stare at him for far too long, until he’s disappeared up the steps and through the sliding doors. I almost follow him.

Hey, is on my tongue. What’s wrong? I’m not going to hurt you.

Because, I realise, walking again to my lecture, he looked like he was anticipating pain. And it’s unnerving, but not so upsetting I forget to grin when I see Cassie across the square in the middle of campus.

***

By the time I get to my room, all thoughts of Daniel have been replaced with work. My first assignment of the year is due in three weeks, and I should probably start working on that this evening. My first year of studying medicine was exhausting, but I like to think I know what to expect now. Even so, I’m somehow already behind on reading and I really don’t have time to daydream about cute café workers.

I chuck my bag on the floor, kick off my shoes and sit on the edge of my bed. I’ll take my jacket off in a moment, once I’ve warmed up, and I pull out my phone.

No messages.

I twist so I can sit back against the headboard and open Facebook, instead. My sister, Kirst, has clogged my timeline by sharing tragic post after tragic post about lost cats, so I refresh the screen and check the Freshers’ page, instead. Here, the lost and found posts are less heart-wrenching: missing notebooks, student cards, and memory sticks.

I stop scrolling, a lump in my throat.

I haven’t thought about last year’s revision notes since I left the library. Even worse, I haven’t thought about the memory stick they’re saved on since I plugged it into the library computer.

I sit up sharply and grab my bag to shake its pitiful contents onto the floor. Pens. Tissues. Spare change. More pens. A battered box of plasters.

No memory stick.

I swear and check my pockets.

Nope. I start typing into the write something box.

William Anson: Hey, I’m an idiot and left my memory stick in the library. Near the door in computer lab 3. Anyone seen it? need it back desperately!

And I wait.

But not for long. Notifications fly in—Cassie likes it. People from my course like it. People I’ve never spoken to like it.

Daniel Taylor: One like this?

It’s my memory stick and the profile picture is someone I can’t believe I recognise. I click on it before trying to word a response and hit a brick wall: his profile is locked. Privacy is sky-high. I can’t even send him a friend request, let alone see his date of birth or relationship status.

It’s Daniel.

William Anson: THAT’S IT oh my gosh thank you! Are you still on campus?

Daniel Taylor: Yes. Can you meet me downstairs in the SU?

I reply with a thumbs-up emoji and drag my shoes back on, hands slipping from the backs. I hit my wrist against the metal underside of the bed and swear and I’m totally expecting to fall over on my way across campus.

Of all the people here at Keele, he had to be the one who found my notes. Haven’t I embarrassed myself in front of him enough already?

The evening air hits me in a blast as soon as I step out of my building and I shiver. Summer is definitely over and I’m glad I kept my jacket on. I reach the SU in record time, powered forward by the wind licking at my neck and ears, and scan for him. It’s still busy, full of people who are excited to reunite with friends after the summer break, so I excuse me my way through the crowds.

There he is. Looking at the floor, leaning against a table and spinning my memory stick between his finger and thumb.

‘I believe you have something of mine,’ I say, and some god must be watching over me because my voice doesn’t wobble. It doesn’t crack and I don’t sound like a startled chicken.

He looks up at me without lifting his head. ‘I can’t be long.’ Disappointment settles in my stomach. ‘I think I used the computer after you.’

‘Yeah, probably.’ Someone should turn down the heating. ‘What were you in the library for?’

What a stupid, personal question. He hesitates, like he can’t work out why on Earth I asked. I don’t know, either.

‘Printing an ingredients list.’ He drops the stick very softly into my hand. ‘I left it, but it was still there after my shift.’

I can’t even blink. ‘Thanks for going back for it. Did you have a look through?’

‘Should I have?’

‘Well, I guess it would be a way of me proving it’s mine.’

He forces a little laugh and puts his hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but at me. The disappointment trembles.

‘I believe you. Maybe you should attach it to your keys.’

‘Then I’d just lose my keys,’ I point out. He doesn’t try another laugh. ‘Hey, thanks, though. I mean it.’

‘Not a problem.’

‘Would have been for me if you hadn’t found it.’ There’s an almost awkward silence, but I jabber forward and tell him something he already knows. ‘I’m William, by the way.’

‘Daniel,’ he sighs, as if it were a secret he was trying to keep hidden.

Maybe we should shake hands. His are firmly in his pockets now he doesn’t have my memory stick to play with, and I can’t quite equate this bowed head and hunched shoulders with the guy who served me a jacket potato and a beaming smile a few hours ago. He’s twitchy, forehead and cheeks shining under a thin layer of sweat. I can’t help but wonder if he’s ill and I’m trying to get a decent look at his face but we haven’t made eye contact even once.

I’m still spilling words. ‘Do you live on campus?’

He nods. ‘Z sheds.’

‘Oh, that’s near me!’ I sound far too pleased about this and clear my throat. ‘I’m in K. Are you going there now?’

‘No, I have somewhere else to be,’ he mutters, eyes on the ground again as he pushes away from the table. He towers over me, even when he’s so clearly trying to make himself look smaller and turns away. ‘Take care.’

‘You, too. Thanks again!’

Something is wrong. I can taste it around him, like smoke after you blow out a candle.

Not Quite Out

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