CHAPTER 16 : We Were Young

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It was almost Christmas, the air smelt of gingerbread and mistletoe. Everyone in the hostel moved around excitedly as they packed their bags, hugged they're friends goodbye before they all departed for the Christmas break. They chatted animatedly about their winter break plans.  

    My roommate Seth, had left the day before. He'd been bragging all week of the ski resort his family was going to. I was happy for him, mostly because it meant I got a two weeks' break from him and his snoring. 

    As for myself, I sat on my bed, my legs stretched out, my back pressed against the wall and a book in my hands. I wouldn't be going home. I hadn't been home in five years. I had long gotten used to spending Christmas alone. 

   "Knock, knock," Jack spoke as he knocked on the wooden door. A smile creeped onto my face as I hopped off my bed, coming to the door.

   "Shouldn't you be halfway to Michigan?" I asked. Jack was normally among the first students to leave. We always said goodbye the night before because when I woke up in the morning he'd always be gone. It was surprising that he was still here. 

    "My mom called, she said she's running late," he said a grin spread across his face. 

    I grabbed my coat before we headed out. He led me outside to the field where we walked together. Jack was talking about his winter plans. He didn't seem that excited. He complained about how his dad would be forcing his whole family to attend his company's Christmas party. He went on about how boring it'd be and how he'd rather be here with me. My cheeks tinted pink at that. 

    "Have you ever tried talking to him?" He asked randomly, I furrowed my brows in confusion. "Your father, have you ever tried talking to him about coming home?" He clarified.

    "No, I haven't," I said turning away from him. "He won't even give me a chance to talk." 

    I shrugged, "It's been years since I've talked to him. He doesn't visit or call or even write. The only messages I get from home are when Harrod my butler randomly visits. I don't think my father wants anything to do with me anymore." 

    He looked uncomfortable with the topic. He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. "I'm sorry man," he said as we resumed walking. 

    "It doesn't matter," I lied, and I felt like he noticed, but he probably figured I didn't want to talk about this anymore, so he changed the subject. 

    "I got you something," he said and I furrowed my brows once more. He pulled out a little box, wrapped in red stripped wrapping paper. I took it from him with a curious gaze, but he stopped me from opening it. "Open it on Christmas," he added. I looked up at me, with a smile teasing my lips. He could be so sweet at times. 

     "Thank you," I said tucking the box into my coat pocket. 

     He scooped up a snowball and threw it right at my face. He chuckled as my expression soured. I scooped my own snowball, aiming for his face, however considering how bad my shot was it hit his shoulder instead. He laughed harder and as he was distracted I launched another attack. Soon we were engaged in a rather animate snowball fight. It ended with the both of us laying on the ground breathing heavily. We made snow angels as we laughed and talked. 

     His ringtone interrupted the moment, "It's my mom," he explained, before sitting up and answering it. "Hi mom...yeah...I'll be there in a minute." He spoke, getting to his feet. "Sorry that was my mom. She's waiting for me. I have to go." 

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