Page 17 of One Night With You

‘We get one night,’ I echo, relieved he’s not pushing the issue. We’re on the same page.

I decide, as a distraction of the best kind, because Cinderella always turns back into an everyday woman and reality always finds a way back in, to remind us both of what we’re here for. I want to enjoy this man one more time, lose myself in him as we become one. Hours earlier, I decided I wanted to enjoy a man’s body and have him enjoy mine, and it was so good that we should do it again before the horses are miceand the carriage is a pumpkin, and so my hand begins to meander down from his chest to tickle the very top of his leg, and he swells gratifyingly quickly.

‘There is one thing wecoulddo, if you wouldn’t mind …’ I mutter close to his ear. I want to feel the weight of him again. I want to feel and not think. I want it once more before the sun comes up and the spell is broken and this next part of my life begins.

I move an inch to the left and work my hand lightly.

‘And what could that be …?’ he says, staccato from the pleasure.

He takes the hint and moves my hand from him then, disappearing under the covers until I feel his breath between my legs. It does the trick: soon neither of us is thinking very much at all.

PART TWO

13

Ruby

‘Well. I’ve thrown myself into Manchester like my life depends on it,’ I tell Janet, my degree supervisor, over vending machine tea in her office. ‘Which, in a way, it kind of does. I’ve taken this massive leap by being here, and I’m determined for it to pay off. I’ve told myself I have to experienceeverything.And I’m not doing badly at it, to be fair. I’m proud of myself, if that doesn’t sound too boast-y. I feel … oh God, I can’t believe I’m saying it this way but – alive?’

Janet titters encouragingly, the bracelets on her wrist clanging together musically. ‘No, no. We likealive. Alive is good! I’m pleased to hear it,’ she replies. She has soft eyes and delicate gold earrings and chunky, trendy trainers. We have twenty minutes scheduled as a check-in to make sure I’m happy and have everything I need, and I know it’s for everyone – I’m not special – but I appreciate getting the one-on-one time with her. Her lectures are so cool. In the past six weeks she’s become a bit of a campus idol to me – how she thinksand how she articulates her ideas. Sitting in an armchair opposite her is the academic equivalent of grabbing a martini with Beyoncé. I mentally award myself a point for making her laugh.

‘We don’t like the term mental health here so much as mentalfitness,’ she offers. ‘We like to make sure everyone has everything they need to be their best selves so they can do their best work. That’s been my experience of creation, certainly. There needs to be space for it, and actually, making art means not just isolating creativity so that you save it all up and pour it into the course. For me, at least, creativity is compounded by letting it bleed into all areas of my life.’

‘What do you mean?’ I press. I’m desperately trying to concoct something clever to say back.

‘I mean that creativity isn’t simply choosing angles and subjects and narrative arcs, or saying the right thing in class. Creativity is a state of being whilst making movies and outside of all that. We like our students to be on campus because it’s full immersion. Creativity is how we dress. The route we choose to walk through campus. Making a good risotto or setting the table nicely, you know? Creativity is a mindset, and the more you can indulge it, the better,’ she says. ‘That’s what I mean. A state of overall flow, is what I’m saying. And it sounds like that’s why you’re so happy. Because you’re in the flow.’

‘The Element,’ I offer. ‘That’s what Ken Robinson calls it.’

‘I don’t know his work,’ she replies, and my belly gurgles at being able to teach her something.

‘He says our element is the meeting point between our natural aptitude and personal passion,’ I explain. ‘That we need to have the right attitude and actively seek the opportunities.’

‘You get what I mean exactly then.’ She nods, smiling. ‘It’slike finding a way to be permanently “in the zone”. What we create comes from that special place, but it’s like an internal vibration that affects how we see the world, how we interact with it, and how the world then treats us.’

‘Yes!’ I say. ‘And you’re right. I’m finding that easier to do here than I ever have done before. It’s addictive.’

‘I knew I liked you.’ She grins. ‘You’re always so astute in lectures.’

I let the sense of victory wash over me. Two points to me.

This past six weeks truly has been dizzyingly euphoric. At orientation the course leaders explained that the master’s is twenty per cent lectures, eighty per cent independent study – and one hundred per cent coursework-assessed. I spent my birthday at a back-to-back screening of three Richard Linklater movies and, honestly, I think it was the best birthday I’ve ever had. I love that I’m the only person who can determine how well I do, and that they aren’t forcing me into a box to do it.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ I continue. ‘My reading list is sky-high and my “to watch” list even higher, but there’s something about how you all frame it that makes me hungry for the full immersion, as you call it. Do you know what I mean? It’s like a free fall into this thing that I’ve always known I loved, but now I don’t have to make excuses for it being the thing I eat, sleep, and dream about.’

‘That’s why mental fitness is key,’ Janet says. ‘You’re not here long. We want you to push yourselves as hard as you are reasonably able whilst you can. But you mustn’t exhaust yourself doing so. It’s a fine balance.’

‘It was so hard to decide how to narrow down what to sit in on,’ I tell her. ‘But there’s only so much time in a day. I could study here for three years and still not get around to taking every module I’d like to. It’s so exciting. I feel like anempty jug that’s tried to fill itself from a drippy tap for years, and now it’s full speed ahead with a bona fide hosepipe.’

She laughs. ‘Now tell me,’ she asks, changing tack. ‘Have you made many new friends?’

I tell her that I’ve got a handful of people on the course who I know better than the others, but I talk to pretty much everyone about anything – we’ve all got so much to say. For the number of credits I need to graduate, they say it’s about two hundred hours’ worth of study, which I work out is twenty hours a week, give or take, to throw myself into thetheoryof film-making. The rest of the time I’m watching movies, talking about movies, critiquing movies, and then working on two interdisciplinary modules that are a requirement of the course. It’s the thing I’m most excited about though: an independent project, where I can make my own documentary. I’ve picked classes in ‘perspectives’ to learn about ideas from other artists: the body in film, digital art activism and storytelling.

Campus itself is amazing too. As I leave our meeting, thanking Janet once again for her time, I marvel at all the big glass buildings and atriums, passing by airy rooms filled with state-of-the-art equipment. But the modernity is nicely offset by the natural setting; behind the buildings sit trees that must be older than the campus, judging by how big they are, already hues of gold and amber, the sun low in the sky and casting dramatic shadows everywhere. It makes me feel like the protagonist in an indie music video, especially now it’s colder and I’ve permanently got a massive scarf looped around my neck and up to my chin, dancing behind me as I stride.

I can’t help but feel part of something bigger, and knowing I’m here with the best of the best means I’m existing onabout six hours’ sleep a night because I’m justtoohappy. The only thing not working out is a sudden bad bout of thrush that my normal cream doesn’t seem to be helping. But itchy fanny aside, I love the library, I love the beginning of autumn and the chill in the air contrasted with the warmth from the buzz inside.

I spot the coffee cart on the corner of where all the main paths intersect and notice that my new pal Mick is working, so decide to treat myself.

---