The Ghost of Forgotten Feelings

I perched, perched more than I sat on the edge of my bed and grabbed my phone. My fingers began to type away frivolously. Not my usual move, trust me. In fact, I pride myself as someone who tries to move calmly whenever in a jam, probably because the way thoughts run through my mind can be frightening, and I tend to overreact if I don’t get myself under control.

But this wasn’t calm, this was controlled panic, although I wasn’t sure what there was to panic about. I didn’t even know what I was going to search for when I launched my browser app, but somehow my search ended with him on my screen. I needed to let go of some of my pent up emotion and one way to do that was to unravel mysteries. So I clicked, each article a stepping stone towards the quiet satisfaction of figuring him out, one page at a time.

Alex Vance, CEO of ZephyrVance, the latest apex financial company in New York and in the United States, I read clearly on my screen, again and again as if I didn’t want to believe it.

Who is this man and why does he hold so much power over me, my heart rate and now, my academics? It is a norm that only the top student gets an automatic chance to intern at the number one company, and the other students struggle to get into the remaining companies. Landing an internship position at whichever company held that position has been my goal since freshman year, that was my golden ticket to becoming Wall Street royalty, and I wasn’t going to let anything, not even the ghost of forgotten feelings, distract me.

Why would the CEO of the newest, largest financial company offer to take five special classes at a university for the first time ever? Isn’t someone like that supposed to be busy trying to keep his company at number 1? I had no idea. But I knew I needed to get a grip fast. I snapped my toes impulsively in my I had already missed a class because of my lousy fantasies and I had to make up for it. I just had to figure out how to do that.

Becky... she must have attended the class, I have to get her help on this. I dragged my feet as I walked to her door, putting aside my pride and strong will to be an independent, unapproachable, lone ranger aside. I needed to find a way to be cool with her, or at least pretend to be.

My hand hovered just inches from her door when it suddenly flew open, almost hitting me right in the face.

“Ah! Damn girl,” I yelped, my fingers recoiling as if burned, as the solid slab of wood swung wildly, narrowly missing my nose by what felt like a hair’s breadth.

“Oh! Hey…” she responded with excitement and surprise in her tone, oblivious to the fact that she just almost got a log of wood smashed into my forehead. “Look who we have here, I was just on my way to your room.”

For a moment there, I forgot that I was on my way to act as friendly and I could, but I quickly put aside my shock and anger from the ‘almost impact’ and smiled at her. I have no idea why I was so uptight when it came to her anyway, I’m usually not that mean.

“Hum…” I still felt a bit awkward from our little interaction from before and it confused me that she was so cool with me. “You were coming to my room… I mean, is there something I can help you with?” I asked her.

“Yeah,” she responded, her eyes still lit up with excitement, but there was a slight hint of uncertainty in her voice, as if she didn’t expect me to be willing to help. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor and lend me some hangers to organize my closet. I just realized I forgot to bring any with me.”

“Of course!” I replied eagerly, making sure that enthusiasm reflected in my tone. This was my golden opportunity to be cool with her and also get her assistance. “I’ll go grab some for you right away!”

I scoured my closet for all the spare hangers I could find and returned to her room with a handful. I was going to help her sort her closet, make her unsuspicious of me, and then ask her for help.

I felt myself gush with surprise as I looked round her room. Her room was far from the chaotic jumble of unpacked boxes and scattered items I’d half-expected. I mean, it had only been hours since she moved in and her room already looked three times better than mine.

Before that day, I had found no pleasure within white walls. The blandness of it put me off and it just felt like a flimsy attempt at creating a wannabe heaven. That is why I chose the pink room when I moved in, but what Becky had done with her space was far beyond impressive. How she was able to work with the plain boring white empty room and bring together an almost perfect room in such little time was beyond me. Her exquisite taste in furniture, her décor and arrangements, everything stood out for me and I was beyond impressed. It was like stepping into her brain, all splashed with her personality.

With a dusty pink velvet couch that whispered lazy afternoons with good books, the cool art works hanging on the walls bursting with stories, and even the ordinary stuff, like her llama-shaped toothbrush holder and her mermaid colored bookshelf, everything somehow fitted perfectly with her quirky vibe. That room was made for her, and I know it now.

We got to arranging her closet and that was when I accepted that I had grossly misjudged her. Becky had some of the most breathtaking outfits that I had ever seen, and it’s surprising that I totally didn’t notice that about her the previous times we met. Maybe because I carried away being pissed at her loud music and high affinity for attention.