Page 102 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

“Yeah, whatever. Keep telling yourself that, Brynn.” She waves me off before returning to work.

I’m left in awe. I don’t know what’s more surprising, the fact that Maya talked to me, or that she thinks Sam is interested in me. At one point, there might have been something growing between us. Hell, I even felt a strange sensation today while we worked, but it’s all residual feelings from our recently ended arrangement. I’m sure of it.

I shake my head to clear it, and step outside to meet up with Sam who is waiting patiently for me. We walk side by side to the end of the street where we exchange pleasant see-you-laters, then we both head to our respective homes. It’s not a romantic goodbye filled with angst and longing. Just two people parting ways.

Whatever Maya thought she saw was left over from the last time we slept together. You know, less than a week ago…

Chapter 32

With only two weeks left before winter break, I’m furiously working to get everything done. Technically, the semester goes until mid-January, but I like to have all my loose ends tied up. If I don’t, I’ll ruin my break by dwelling. The majority of my classes are straightforward. A test to study for in O-Chem, a review of my favorite hiking trails for hiking class, but my latest essay for English is going to kill me.

If I could have chosen my subject, things would be fine, but it was chosen for me. My English professor thought she’d go easy on us by assigning “fun” topics. For me, it’s anything but fun. Maybe others would enjoy writing about how the hippie movement shaped history, but I’ve been struggling to develop a cohesive argument in order to relay the information properly, and it shows. My paragraphs are all over the place. They’re disjointed, choppy, and lack any sort of general flair.

I’m frustrated with myself, but Brynn Erlenmeyer doesn’t quit.

Hunkered down in my room, which happens to be on the main level of our house, I commit myself to this paper. I have three hours until I meet Sam. Plenty of time. All my resources are readied, websites opened, books stacked. I just need to concentrate on rewording these sentences so they make sense.

Twenty minutes into working, Lisa opens my door without knocking. “What’cha doing?” she asks, popping her gum.

Drumming my fingers on my desk, I don’t look up. “Writing a paper.”

“Ooh, you sound super excited about that.” She snickers. “Do you want to grab lunch later before you meet up with Sam?”

I shake my head, still keeping my focus on my work. “I need to finish this. I’ll just have a sandwich or something.”

“Okay, fine.” She sighs, but doesn’t leave my doorway. “What’s the paper about?”

“Hippies.”

“What?” She practically laughs the question out.

“My professor assigned us topics, and mine is about how hippies shaped history. I hate it.”

“Why? It sounds fun. I love the music from that time. If you want, I can?”

“Lisa,” I say curtly as I finally turn to look at her. “I don’t need help right now. I just need you to leave so I can finish.”

Her face crinkles with annoyance. “Yes, ma’am,” she says, saluting me with her middle finger before walking away.

I groan and get up to close my door. I know I pissed her off, but I’ll apologize later. I have work to do. As I settle back at my desk, I don’t read more than two sentences before “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” by The Kingston Trio comes blaring from our living room stereo.

I clench my jaw to power through the noise, but after the song ends, it starts again. It repeats three times before I realize Lisa is playing hippie and having her own form of protest.

“Ugh.” I drop my face into my palm and take a deep breath. “It’s okay. I can work through this.”

Thirty minutes later, I’ve heard the song at least ten times, but it’s faded into background music at this point. In fact, I’ve come to consider it almost white noise. I’m feeling better about my ability to finish this paper when thumping sounds from the room above me, and I slump in my chair.

Lisa has taken over the living room, so Hannah must be doing her workout. In her bedroom directly above mine. It’s a normal occurrence when you have three roommates with varying schedules, but why does it have to be right now?

With a frustrated groan, I shut down my computer and pack my materials. I can’t concentrate under these conditions. It’s bad enough I hate my essay topic, but now with the same song on endless repeat and my bookshelf rattling every five seconds, I’m at my wit's end.

I leave my room, striding through the living room toward the front door. Lisa lounges on the couch scrolling her phone, and I send a glare her way. She twiddles her fingers in the air as I storm out the front door, slamming it behind me.

Once I’m outside, I breathe in the brisk December air. After a few days of twenty degrees or below, this forty degrees feels like a heat wave. I briefly shut my eyes, taking a moment to bask in the sun before setting off for the library.

The precarious ice patches make my walk longer than normal, but by the time I reach my destination, my angry frustration has ebbed. I don’t have anyone to blame except myself. If I hadn’t been rude to Lisa, she wouldn’t have commandeered the living room and Hannah wouldn’t have been doing jump squats eight feet above me. Maybe if I had apologized right away, I’d still be in the comforts of my own room, and not in the library.

At least it’s quiet in here. This could be a good thing. Sometimes a change of scenery is all it takes.

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