[ 4 ]

THAT CAPTIVATING MOON

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Track of the day: Collide - Howie Day

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Irene settles down in her seat, on a table inside the university’s library. She puts down her things: her bag and her laptop, along with books she has collected from the library shelves. Literature guidance books, books about language theories and many more. It is exam season and the quietude of the whole floor reinforces that fact.

Joy sits in front of her, behind a pile of books and a laptop. She yawns and stretches, having sat there for almost an hour. Joy looks like she’s had enough. Studying has never been her strong suit.

“Oh, you’re finally here,” she says as Irene takes her seat and opens her laptop. “What took you so long?”

“I had to grab some books on my way here. Some of them are not available, which worries me quite a bit,” Irene says.

Joy crosses her arms. “Well, it is exam season. Everyone’s using everything the library’s got.”

“Yeah, I guess I just have to do with what I’ve got.”

“What are you so worried about? You’re smart. You’ve got these exams in the bag.”

“I’m not that smart,” Irene says and it is not a lie. She just works hard. For her grades, for money, for everything. When it needs be, she works her hardest to get it. Nothing comes easy in this world. “I still need to study to get the results I want.”

“Still, it takes a bit of brain to remember everything.”

“If one of us here is smart,” Irene says not looking up from her notes, “it’s you. You barely do any studying and you still pull out with an 80 in the end. Quite impressive. Tell me your secret, will you?”

Joy laughs. “I put in the work too, you know. You’re just not there to see it.”

“Is that so? Somehow I don’t believe it.”

It’s not like Irene really doubts Joy. She just finds it fascinating how someone like Joy, someone who likes to play around, mingle about and focus on socialising, has any time left to study copious amounts of information. Unlike Irene who has separate times for fun and work, Joy doesn’t seem to have that. She’s the type of person that doesn’t plan her day, who doesn’t stick to a schedule. She’s the type to just wing it, go with the flow. So it makes Irene assume that Joy is naturally smart. Smarter than what she makes herself to be.

“Oh right,” Joy says, which causes Irene to look up from her notes. “You know that our boss doesn’t make us work during exam season, right?”

It shouldn’t come as a shock to Irene. It makes sense. Exam season. Students who work part-time jobs usually get a holiday as a result. But Irene is shocked, taken aback by the possibility of not seeing Wendy. Possibly. Irene doesn’t know why, but for some reason, she finds it quite a shame. It’s not like Wendy has been turning up recently during the Wednesdays that have just passed.

“Won’t he need help? It’s gonna be busier because of the upcoming Christmas season, right?” Irene asks and she asks this hoping that she doesn’t come off too obvious. That she really is looking for a way to work during a time when she’s not supposed to work.

“Nah, he closes the pub to visit his family up north,” Joy says. “Besides, it’s not like the place is busy itself to stay open. If it wasn’t for Wendy coming there every Wednesday, the place wouldn’t get much income at all.”

Wendy. The name rings inside of Irene, making her slightly flustered as if she’s done something that’s worth to be ashamed of. She gulps before saying, “Wendy hasn’t been coming there recently though?”

Joy narrows her eyes and it makes Irene nervous, as if Joy knows something, between Wendy and Irene, the two of them, not like there’s anything going on between them anyway. “You’re always so curious about Wendy, you know?”

“I-I’m not. Aren’t you curious about her too?”

Joy pretends to think. “No, not really.”

Irene can’t really find any words to say, words to defend herself. Why does she need to defend herself in the first place? “It’s just—”

“I know you find her interesting. I also know that you guys have been talking. But as your friend Irene, I have to warn you—” Joy says. There is a certain bleakness in her tone, a certain foreboding that something amiss is soon to come if Irene doesn’t stay away from Wendy. “—you’ll get hurt.”

Irene finds it a bit offending. What has Wendy done to deserve this pre-judgement? “Wendy doesn’t seem that bad to me. I don’t get what’s so wrong with me befriending her.”

Joy sighs. “I’m just worried for you. As your friend, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Irene bites her lip and leans back on her chair. “Why would Wendy hurt me?” There are so many questions. Questions that arise from Wendy, questions that arise from Joy. What does Joy know? What does she know about Wendy? “Do you know something I don’t know, Joy?”

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Irene leans herself on the veranda’s ledge. The booming music from inside can be heard from where she stands, though a bit muffled from the double-glazed glass windows. She hopes that Joy hasn’t drunk too much but then again it’s Joy. Joy doesn’t care about limits, things of that sort. Irene looks up at the sky, slightly cloudy, although peeking through these clouds is the moon, a bright white glowing semi-circle, still visible. She finds it slightly captivating, a radiant thing amidst a sea of darkness.

Irene hears Wendy put down the can of beer that she has been drinking on the ledge. She sits on top of it, swaying her legs clad in jeans, her feet in her black boots, to the beat of the music. Her fingers tap on the wood, quite noticeably, as if she is back there at the pub, playing the keys to the piano. Irene finds herself observing these little things. These little movements of Wendy.

“What are you looking at?” Wendy finally asks. Even though Wendy is not looking at Irene, Irene can still see the smile on Wendy’s lips. That mischievous smile.

“I was looking at the moon but then you caught my attention,” Irene says. She doesn’t mean it to come off that way, but somehow it just does. She doesn’t mean to flirt with Wendy, but somehow it just comes out.

Wendy’s grin grows wider and this time she looks at Irene. “I am quite breath-taking, I suppose.”

A scoff escapes Irene’s lips. “You have a lot of confidence, haven’t you?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? Am I supposed to be threatened by your looks? And you look quite breath-taking yourself, by the way.”

Is that a compliment? It flusters Irene. She feels her ears heat up and she finds herself somewhat dumfounded.

Wendy smiles a cheeky smile, as if she’s known she has made Irene flustered. It sort of peeves Irene off—the overwhelming confidence that oozes from Wendy—but at the same time, Irene finds it charming.

Irene gathers her thoughts and says, “You should be. I get asked out a lot, you know.”

“Ah, I’m not surprised. They’re quite lucky,” Wendy leans in, a bit too close for Irene’s comfort, the smell of cigarette a bit noticeable from the small distance between them, before continuing, “those jerks.”

The music gets a bit louder, hitting Irene’s ears, beat by beat. Her heart thumps to the rhythm and she wonders if it’s because of Wendy or if it’s because of the loud bass from the music. Irene tries to keep herself composed, anyhow. “How do you know they’re jerks? You haven’t met them.”

“I don’t need to know,” Wendy says. “If they weren’t jerks, you wouldn’t be single right now, would you?”

It’s the second time Irene finds herself flustered. There is just something with Wendy, in how she chooses her words, in how she says them, like they have been meticulously picked out from her years of experience that Irene finds herself taken aback. Irene takes a breath in and exhales it, “What about you? Those jerks must be so lucky to have gone out with such a breath-taking lady such as you.”

Wendy catches the sarcasm in Irene’s tone. Her smile fades and her tone goes sombre when she replies, “There’s been no guys though.”

The third time. Wendy is just full of surprises. Irene blinks. “What? Not at all?”

Wendy leans a bit closer, her dark eyes quite hypnotising, captivating like the moon up in the night sky. Irene finds herself holding her breath. This unexpected closeness. The unexpected answer. Irene’s heart races and this time she is sure it isn’t because of the music.

“Will you believe me?” Wendy asks. “Will you believe my words?”

 * * *

Irene wakes up from a nap, her neck in quite of an ache, stiff and sore. From the view of the window, she notices that it is night time. What hour it is exactly is still left to mystery. Joy has gone, a note taped on the desk, replacing her presence:

I went home ahead. You seem really tired so I didn’t want to wake you up. See you tomorrow~!

“She could’ve just texted me this, though,” Irene says her thoughts out loud. She remembers that Joy lives off campus, a bit of a ride away, so staying late in the library for her has never been an option. Unless, of course, Irene decides to let her sleep over her place but Irene is scrupulous about those things.

Irene stretches and yawns at the same time. She takes a look at her watch. 8.45 PM. It is quite late but her nap has taken the precious time she has for studying. She needs to study. She needs to get a good grade. She needs it for next semester’s bursary application.

She sighs. “I can stay until 10PM, no biggie. I can do this.” She opens her laptop, turns her books to the right page and as she does these, she notices, through her periphery, there stood, on the table, a bottle of iced tea with a sticky note on it.

The note is anonymous but Irene has a feeling. A strong feeling that it’s from someone she knows, someone she’s joked around with before.

You look quite pretty when you sleep… kind of like Sleeping Beauty? I hope you were having a good dream. Here’s something to get you through the night. No thanks needed.

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A/N: I know this update took ages and I apologise for that! I was just really struggling on trying to write the next chapter for this. But here it is, now! Although it's short, I hope it satisfies you gals and guys, my very lovely readers. If everyone didn't sort of get it, the part where Irene and Wendy were on the veranda was a continuation from the party scene last chapter.

Hmm.. I feel like I have more to say but I've lost my train of thought. Listening to Photograph by Ed Sheeran and Fools by Troye Sivan helps me write these sort of melodramatic scenes. Please give your thoughts below, I definitely would very much appreciate that and also upvote this story if you guys liked it.