Page 19 of Psync
As Eli began gathering his bath supplies to leave, Ash said, “If you leave here in the morning, word to the wise, go by the north entrance, not the south. Every morning the bubble tea girls are there.”
“Bubble tea girls?”
“That’s what I call them anyway. Every single morning a group of girls meet up and get their caffeine fix outside our building and they get so hyper one of them always ends up spilling their drink everywhere. I’ve gone through two pairs of sneakers this week. It’s brutal.”
“Sounds that way. Thanks for the advice.” Eli vowed to never, ever, ever leave by the south entrance again, whatever time of day it was. What if someone spilled something on him? What if (shudder) they tried to help clean him off?
Hard pass.
It occurred to Eli that he was standing in a room he really shouldn’t be lingering in if he wanted to avoid a certain person.
“I gotta go, bye!” Eli shouted as he raced from the room.
He didn’t want to wait for the elevator and chance getting caught, so he took the stairs back to his floor. He didn’t stop looking over his shoulder until he reached his room.
Today was Saturday, and he was planning to check out the club fair with Alice and Nate. None of them had any idea what clubs they wanted to join, but they had agreed it would be nice if they could join one together so they could spend more time with each other. Alice had one class with Eli and one with Nate. Otherwise, there was no overlap for any of their trio.
Today he decided to go with the lightweight, linen pullover he got on his last shopping trip. It had a hood—just in case—but he thought sunglasses would be enough protection. He’d be with a group of friends, which usually helped counteract the effects of the Thing.
What would his life be like if he didn’t have to spend so much time and energy managing his various quirks? He’d have more fashion options at the very least.
Leaving through the north entrance, he hurried to the main quad where the club fair was being held. He probably should have set a meeting place with Nate and Alice rather than assuming he’d find them easily. Silly him, assuming things.
Once at the main quad, he realized his mistake. Easily half of the 22,000 people on campus were milling around, poking through booths, and enjoying exhibits. How the hell was he supposed to find his friends?
Just as anxiety began stirring in his stomach, he laughed at himself and smacked his forehead. He had a phone, duh.
After several minutes of using it for its originally intended purpose, however, he was beginning to wonder if either of his friends ever bothered to use theirs.
He tugged on a hoodie string.
Well, he could always look around until one of them decided to call him.
A delicious smell caught his attention, and he was about to chase it when he realized with all the excitement and stress of being at the fair, the likelihood of him actually being able to eat something was nil. He’d wait until he was with friends and try then.
A cheer went up from the crowd, and he followed it, using his small size to dart between people until he reached a makeshift fence. It was an archery exhibition, which was too much for his little geek heart to resist.
He’d tried archery a few times, but with his little noodle arms and extreme dislike of repeatedly getting wacked in the forearm by a bowstring, he didn’t get far.
The crowd cheered again when the archer—a tall, willowy blonde woman—hit the center of the target. People pressed against his back.
Too Close! Wrongwrongwrong.
One hand clung to the railing too keep his balance and the other yanked his hood up over his head. What was he thinking diving into a crowd like that? Of course, people were going to accidentally touch him if they were packed this close together.
He squeezed back out and found a small, empty area near a fence post. His view was partially blocked, but at least he had some space to breathe.
Part of him wanted to get the fuck out of there and run all the way back to his room, but another, louder part of him—the part that had sent him running toward the archery event in the first place—was begging him to stay, to watch, and to have fun. He patted the anxiety pill he had in his pocket. He could always take it if he needed to.
He would stay.
His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he reached for it, praying it would be his friends coming to rescue—ahem—find him, but he stopped midmotion.
The next archer took to the field. Eli could only see the back of him, but something about his long, muscled lines and the way he walked was familiar. Half of his upper torso was bare and glistened with sweat from the hot sun. His black hakama pants fluttered in the breeze. Unthinking, Eli inched away from his secluded position to get a better view.
The way the archer’s hands moved to position the bow was sheer art. His arms lifted the impossibly long bow and settled it into position as he took aim. Eli reached a better vantage point and held his breath, spellbound as the archer centered himself.
It was Eli’s favorite form of archery—kyudo, the ancient tradition of Japanese archery. He could have ten panic attacks today and still consider it worth coming out.
