The interview the next day is the horror. On the one hand, it’s due to the fact that I’ve been lying awake half the night brooding over Lydia’s situation, and on the other hand, I can’t get along with the two lecturers at all. They make jokes at the beginning that I don’t understand, and when it finally starts, they are not satisfied with my answers. I am asked how many people are in the room and say that it cannot be determined exactly. After all, I could be dreaming or the two lecturers could only exist in my head. It’s one of the tasks we went through with Pippa, but they don’t like my approach at all. The philosophy lecturer calls it ‘pseudo-intellectual’ and asks me to question it and find out why it is wrong. Then he asks me for a logical answer, and I say meekly, ‘Three.’
After that, I’m totally insecure and think three times about every question before I say anything. It’s a complete disaster, and when I’m done after half an hour, my head is spinning.
As if on autopilot, I politely say goodbye to the lecturers and leave the office. Once outside, I notice how dizzy I am and I have to support myself against the wall for a moment so as not to lose my balance.
My gaze falls on the applicant who is next to me.
Of course it’s James.
It drives me crazy that he has this habit of showing up at all my low points and experiencing them live. He is talking to the student who brought him here – or rather, she is entertaining him while he stares at the tips of his shoes. Only when the lecturer closes the door behind me does he raise his head.
He looks great. He wears black trousers and a dark green shirt that accentuates his shoulders and upper body. I hate that both look so good on him. I also hate that he is dressed so formally and still doesn’t look like a bourgeois. Actually, I hate everything about him.
Especially the way he broke my heart. Every time he looks at me, the pain that I’ve been so successful in suppressing over the past few weeks comes back. My heart beats up to my throat, my mouth becomes dry, and a queasy feeling spreads through my stomach. And then there is this miserable longing. The need to walk up to him and take his hand in mine, just to touch him and feel his warm skin on mine. I also want to wish him good luck, as he did yesterday, but I just can’t bring myself to say anything to him. If I open my mouth, my voice will break. Especially now, when I’m about to cry anyway.
Suddenly, James stands up and takes a step towards me. Before he can say anything, I avert my gaze and walk quickly down the hallway.
The rest of the day drags on like chewing gum. After the interview, I would like to go to my room and crawl under the covers, but I am intercepted by a few other applicants who wanted to take a tour of the campus together with two students from higher semesters. I watched a lot of things yesterday, but since I’m not sure if I’ll ever get the chance to spend time in St Hilda’s again after the terrible interview, I join the group. It’s bitter to be shown the beautiful campus of a university where I might not study at all, but Tom and Liz put so much effort into the tour that I decide to put the dark thoughts aside for the rest of the time and concentrate on what they tell us.
St Hilda’s was one of the first colleges in Oxford to be founded exclusively for women. Men have only been allowed to study here for nine years. I already knew that the college is known for its open nature, but as we walk around the campus and through the buildings, I can clearly feel that this is not just empty talk. The students greet each other, and even those who are sitting between stacks of books in the library and look super stressed take a moment to answer questions. The attitude to life here seems to be the complete opposite of that prevailing at Maxton Hall College. There is no division into rich and poor, cool and uncool, dignified and unworthy – everyone seems to be equal here.
At the thought that I might have actually messed up, something in me contracts wistfully.
Lin writes me a message at noon and asks how my interview was, but I can’t bring myself to answer her. Neither did my parents or Ember. I am disappointed in myself and have to work out what happened with myself before I can face them. I know exactly how they will react: understanding, kind and comforting. I just can’t stand that at the moment.
In the early evening we return to the common room. I’m really ready to hide in my room, but there’s one last item on the agenda – a get-together with Jude and a few other students who have agreed to answer our questions about studying and living in Oxford. I try with all my might to find my positive energy again, but it just doesn’t work out. So I take one of the cozy-looking wing chairs, pull my legs under my body and decide to just sit here and listen.
Little by little, the room fills up. James also shows up at some point. He comes together with the student who brought him to the interview this morning and waited with him in front of the door. The two are talking, and I can’t take my eyes off him, no matter how hard I try.
I never understood why it’s called heartbreak, and now I understand it even less. When I see James, it’s not just my heart that hurts – everything hurts. On top of that, I find it difficult to breathe. It should be called whole-body airway obstruction pain. That sounds far less romantic and would be much more appropriate in my opinion.
I manage to tear my eyes away from him, just as James discovers me in the wingback chair. Our eyes only touch each other for a fraction of a second, but still my skin starts to tingle.
I’m too frustrated and too tired to fight it.
‘So, guys!’ begins Jude and claps his hands. ‘Are we complete? Then we can start. There are still seats back there,’ he says, pointing vaguely in my direction. While most of us have made ourselves comfortable on the sofas and armchairs, there are still a few free chairs with flowered seat cushions next to me. Only out of the corner of my eye can I see James and two other boys coming towards me. Cautiously, I dare to look to the side. James returns it with dark eyes.
I slide a bit to the right on the chair. I don’t care what he thinks of me. I just don’t want to sit too close to him. Actually, I don’t even want to be in a room with him. The pain in my chest is bad enough as it is.
‘You can ask us anything,’ Liz explains. ‘Studies, private life, career goals.’
‘Everything, really?’ interjects the guy sitting to James’ left.
‘You can ask anything—but whether we answer is up to us.’ Jude winks at him, and a few people laugh restrainedly.
‘Okay, who’s going to start?’ asks the student who brought James here. She is really pretty, with her black hair and dark complexion. I think she’s without make-up, but there’s still a slight glow on her cheeks. I’d like to ask how she does it, but I’m afraid that’s not the right question for this Q&A.
‘How strenuous is studying here really? Do you have a private life at all?’ asks a girl I’m seeing for the first time.
Jude, Liz and the pretty student look at each other, and Jude gives Liz the right of way to answer with a gesture.
‘Of course, the studies are more intensive than at other universities, especially if you live on campus and still have to settle in. But there is enough time for private things.’
A soft murmur goes through the room. Most of them seem quite relieved about the answer.
‘Bring on the next question!’ demands Jude and looks expectantly into the round.
Short silence. Then…
‘Is it true what everyone says? Is studying here a joke compared to Balliol?’
I turn my head to James. He looks ahead with serious interest, where the three students are sitting and return his gaze perplexed.
‘It’s the same course of study,’ Jude begins hesitantly, his brow slightly furrowed. ‘But since I’m studying here and not there, I can’t judge that. I can only tell you what it is like at St Hilda’s.’
‘A ‘yes’ would have sufficed.’
Stunned, I stare at James. I can’t believe he just said that. Even in this terrible tone of voice, which he certainly learned from his father and which triggers a whole chain of angry reactions deep inside me.
The need to open my mouth grows by the second, and my protective shields crumble piece by piece.
Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it …
I ignore my reason.
‘That’s so clear,’ I blurt out.
James turns slowly to me. ‘What’s clear?’
‘That St Hilda’s isn’t good enough for you just because your father didn’t study here.’ I try to keep my voice calm, but I don’t want to succeed. Not after this day. Not if he behaves like that.
Something like pain flares up in James’ eyes. ‘That’s not true,’ he says.
At this lie, the anger that I have held back with all my might in the last few weeks breaks out of me like a storm. I can’t hold them back for a second longer, and the words just bubble out of me, loud and without filters. ‘What’s wrong? That St Hilda’s isn’t good enough for you, just as I’m not good enough for you because your parents want something else for you? That you always do what they want instead of just thinking about what you want out of life? You are such a coward!’
All of a sudden, it is eerily quiet in the common room. My breathing is heavy, my chest rises and falls rapidly, and I feel how it begins to tingle dangerously behind my eyes.
Oh no. No.
I’m not going to start crying in front of all these people and embarrass myself even more than I just did.
I get up with a jerk and leave the room without another word. I walk along the hallway and make it to the stairs, when I hear equally fast footsteps behind me. I take two steps at a time until I reach the top and turn into the hallway. James is right behind me. He overtakes me and stops in front of me, so that I have to stop.
‘That’s not true,’ he repeats breathlessly. His cheeks are reddened, his hair disheveled. Whenever I see him, it seems to me that my body is connected to his in an irrational way. The need to touch him grows the closer he gets to me, no matter how angry I am with him. That can’t be. How can I still want him when he hurts me so much?
‘What’s wrong?’ I can hardly get the words out because so many feelings have built up in me.
The pain in his gaze catches me completely unprepared. ‘That you’re not good enough for me.’
For a moment I stare at him perplexed. Then I clench my hands into fists, so tight that my nails dig into my skin. ‘Such fucking bullshit,’ I hiss.
He takes another step towards me. ‘Ruby—’
‘No!’ I interrupt him. ‘You can’t do that to me. You can’t break up with me and humiliate me in front of all your friends, only to just stroke my wrist and whisper ‘Good luck’ to me. You’ve made it abundantly clear to me that you don’t want me in your oh-so-great life.’
‘That wasn’t … I—’
First he runs after me, and now he can’t get a coherent sentence out. I would like to grab him by both shoulders and shake him. ‘That wasn’t you?’ My voice drips with mockery.
‘I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved. I’m so sorry, Ruby. But I can… Just don’t. It won’t do.’
I raise my arms in the air. ‘Then why the hell are you here? Why are you talking to me at all?’
‘Because I—’ Again he interrupts himself. He knits his brows together as if he doesn’t know the answer himself. Then he opens his mouth and closes it again. It looks as if he is keeping himself from saying the words that are actually on the tip of his tongue.
‘You don’t know what you want from me. You don’t know what you want out of life. I don’t think you know anything at all.’
His cheeks grow even redder. Now his posture is a reflection of mine – stiff shoulders, clenched fists. I’ve never seen him like this before. He takes an angry step towards me, and I feel the heat emanating from him.
‘I know exactly what I want.’ The stammering has disappeared, instead he suddenly sounds determined.
‘Then why don’t you take it?’
‘Because my will has never played a role.’
The last remnant of my control has hung by a thread, which he finally cuts with his words.
‘For me, yes! Your will has always played a role for me!’ I scream, bumping both hands against his chest.
James reacts in a flash and grabs my wrists. He holds my hands firmly pressed to his chest.
We breathe. Fast and jerky. I can feel his thumping heartbeat under my fingers. His heart beats so fast. For my sake. Because of what is between us, what has been growing between us for months.
We move at the same time, James grabs me, and I jump towards him. Our mouths meet. Enraged, I run my hands into his hair, pull on it, and he grabs my thighs and digs his fingers firmly into my skin. I bite his lower lip because I’m so angry. He moans deeply and slides one hand to my ass. With the other he moves my back up and puts it on my neck. All the weeks in which I ignored him with all my might and fought against my feelings break over me like a tornado.
Our kiss is a continuation of the argument, a fight that turns the anger in me into something else and elicits a sound from me that I have never made before. A desperate moan that almost sounds like a sob. I run my tongue over his lower lip and enjoy his taste.
The next moment, James grabs my neck and kisses me deeply and deeply. Now his kiss suddenly feels like an apology. I can feel on his quivering fingers how long he had wanted to do this and how much strength it must have cost him to forbid himself. He kisses me like he wants to drown inside me, it’s a mixture of desire, despair, hatred and all the feelings in between, and it drives me crazy, but at the same time I haven’t felt this alive in weeks. I don’t understand how this is possible. I don’t understand how someone you actually want to hate can do something like that to you.
James grabs me by the waist, lifts me up and staggers down the hallway with me in his arms, all without us ever taking our lips off each other. I bang my back against James’ room door and breathe in sharply. Angrily, I scratch his neck. James moans into my mouth and pushes against me, his hard body is the only thing that prevents me from falling to the ground. His hand runs from my waist over my thigh, then disappears, and I can hear the jingling of keys right after. The next moment he holds me tighter again, and the door opens behind me. James carries me over the threshold and kicks the door shut. I only perceive the bang casually. Nothing seems to be relevant anymore, there is only him and me at this moment and the feelings that guide us. This time no one will interrupt us. No one will destroy what is between us.
Only the two of us have the power over what happens next.
My movements become smoother, but no less passionate. In a few steps we are at the bed, and James lets himself fall on it. He slides an arm under my back to cushion the impact and pushes himself against me at the same moment, so perfect that I moan and wrap my legs around his hips.
His mouth moves tenderly over every millimeter of my face. He kisses my cheeks and the corners of my mouth. The tip of my nose. His lips glide over my jaw. I hold on to his shoulders and close my eyes. Stars explode behind my eyelids as he sucks on my neck and presses his lips to the spot where my pulse beats faster and faster.
‘Ruby—’ He whispers my name, just like that night over a month ago when we kissed on the steps of the school. The memory comes over me suddenly and violently, and with it the despair and pain. I can’t hold back the burning behind my eyes. Hot tears form in my eyes and run down my face.
James freezes. He leans a little away from me and looks at me under heavy eyelids. With his dilated pupils and red cheeks, he looks like he’s on drugs. He tenderly caresses my face and continues to whisper my name.
I cover my face with one arm so he can’t see my tears, but James takes my hand and carefully lifts it up. He interlaces our fingers and places them on the bed next to my head. With his other hand, he brushes a stray strand of hair out of my forehead. Then he slowly runs his index finger over the sensitive skin under my eyes to wipe away the wetness there.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers at my temple and presses a kiss to my hairline.
He doesn’t stop caressing my face. It’s as if his arms form a protective space just for the two of us. When I look up, I see how swollen his lower lip is. You can clearly see where I bit and I get a guilty conscience. I tenderly stroke the red skin, and James closes his eyes. I touch his jaw, run my finger over his contracted eyebrows and trace the scattered freckles on his cheek. Now in winter, they have become so pale that you can only see them up close.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers, and it sounds as if his voice would break at any moment.
‘That’s not enough for me,’ I reply just as quietly.
He leans forward and presses his hot forehead against mine. ‘Neither do I.’
We remain in this position for a while. His weight on me feels so good, and I wrap my arms around his back, claw my fingers into his shirt, and just hold on to him. I can feel his heartbeat, as fast and uneven as my own, and enjoy the all-encompassing feeling of being so close to him.
But all this does not change the things that have happened between us. Because of what he threw at my head and how he treated me. I can’t forget that. Not if I don’t get more from him than a whispered apology. I want an explanation, and I think I deserve it.
‘It can’t go on like this, James.’
He smiles. The corners of his mouth only move slightly upwards, but I can still see it clearly. In addition, the tension in his body decreases. The furrows on his forehead are smoothing out, and everything about him seems to be softening.
‘What’s there to smile about?’
He pulls back a bit and looks at me. His gaze is hopeful. ‘You haven’t said my name for ages. Feels good.’
Shaking my head, I take his face in my hands, lean forward and kiss him carefully. It feels like a dream that I can just do it, when I was so sure that I would never get the opportunity to do it again. His mouth has the perfect shape to fit mine. It feels right, like a puzzle piece that is put in the right place. James’ hand travels from my face over my neck and shoulder. A hot tingle runs down my spine as he caresses my side and finally embraces my waist. His body trembles over mine. I want to pick up exactly where we just left off, but I can’t do that without knowing where we are.
James seems to sense this and gently pulls away from me. I told you that you can’t lose anything that doesn’t belong to you.’
The memory of his words gives me a sting. I want to look away, but I can’t. For that, too many of the feelings I feel at that moment are reflected in James’ eyes.
‘That was a lie. I’ve been yours since you threw my money at me, Ruby Bell.’
