13. Early Winter

13. Early Winter

It wasn't easy seeing someone who was cooler than you. Especially, Spec thought, if your girlfriend was secretly just as geeky as you about something.
He was sitting on a bench outside said someone's faculty building, waiting for her to come out.
It wasn't fair that Cat was so loved and respected and admired (he ignored the rest of the multiple meanings of “admired” that his brain provided) just because she was pretty. Well. He said pretty, but gorgeous was closer to the truth. Beautiful when she didn't think she was.

What was he talking about again?

Oh yes – just because she was pretty. It wasn't fair, because people like him (not pretty, most definitely not gorgeous even if possibly charming, in a nerdy sort of way), the historians, the quantum physicists, the IT people, the theoretically-minded individuals of the world who turned thought into so much more, they were mindlessly and carelessly tossed onto the 'uncool' pile of society like the cheap version of last season's handbags.

Actually, that may have been a bit much.
The 'uncool' pile had a whole lot of amazing people and society didn't know who it was missing out on.

They were geeks, and one day they would rule the world.

Spec tugged at his jacket, wrapped his scarf around his neck again, stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted on the bench.
Yes, he was a nerd, with his love for all things gone, all things uncool, for videogames and books and film, with his namesake glasses slipping down his nose and his lanky frame doing nothing to help his image, but there was one thing he had beat all of the cool guys at.
And that was being Cat's boyfriend.

They had only been going out for a couple of weeks, and he didn't know how Cat felt about the situation, but he hadn't even looked at another girl since their Deathly Hallows date. Although, to be fair, he hadn't really been interested in anyone else before that anyway.

Spec smiled as he remembered their cinema trip.
They had got some very strange looks on the way out of the flat, though one of their flatmates (Jamie) had squealed and asked them if she could take a picture, and people on the bus had stared and stared, but one little boy had come up to them and told them he was waiting for his letter, because his birthday was in a week's time and they should tell the new Headmaster to hurry up.
Cat promised him they would do what they could and handed him a chocolate frog. Yes, a chocolate frog. Amazing.

They had eventually got to the cinema and stood in line – luckily he had thought to buy tickets online, so they already had seats, they just needed to pick the tickets up – for about an hour with other Harry Potter fans. Various people had come up to them to compliment them on dressing up or to ask to take a picture. Spec hadn't known there were that many HP freaks in the city.
The film had been amazing. There had been moments Cat had squeezed his hand, obviously crying, where he had had to brush away a few tears too, moments where the entire audience had jumped a mile, moments where they had all shared laughs.

It was so good.

True to her word, Cat had bought popcorn, but it lay half-forgotten after the first twenty minutes, until they found it all over the floor at the end. Oops.

The entire ride home had been composed of quotes, dissecting the shots and discussing scenes in low tones so as not to spoil it for anyone else. They had sat really close to not be heard.
They had got off the bus at the university and been greeted by a bunch of Potterheads going off to the pub. They had a great time with them, but had stuck with each other.
After the pub, back home. They had met Jamie in the kitchen, where she always seemed to be, who had demanded to know everything without wanting spoilers. They had delivered as best they could.

Cat had made pasta and they had eaten together, still in their robes, with Jamie to-ing and fro-ing between her bedroom and the kitchen, seemingly only to squeal at the two of them. He brought out Ben&Jerry's for dessert, he had bought it the other day, knowing it was Cat's favourite, and they chatted until very late.

They had hugged and retreated to their own rooms.
Once he got into bed, his alarm clock showed the time as five-seventeen in big blue blocks.
He had never been so happy to have stayed up all night.

They had gone out by themselves a few more times, been out with groups a couple of times too, and hung out almost constantly, but they hadn't even kissed yet.
Still, they would. And eventually, he would manage to ask her to be exclusive (or go steady, or whatever the young people's jargon was nowadays).

“Hey, sorry I'm late, I had to talk to the lecturer about something I hadn't understood.”

Cat plonked herself beside him and gave him a hug.
“Hey! That's ok, I was zoning out anyway. What do you want to do?”
Cat put her gloves on, “Hot chocolate and a walk around the lake?”

“Sounds good to me.” He smiled.

They walked round to the little hut on the other side of the lake, going quickly to heat themselves up, bought the hot chocolate – which was real dark chocolate melted into milk, though they could add other things to it if you wanted – and ambled leisurely back towards the flat.
Cat hummed as she wrapped her fingers around the warm cardboard mug, “How was your day?”
“So far so good,” he replied, taking a sip of his own. Aaaah, chocolate, “I got a first in that essay I handed in last week, which is awesome.”

“Congrats!” She exclaimed, bumping her shoulder into him, “That is excellent! You don't deserve anything less.”

Had he not been a man, he would have blushed, but he ducked his head just in case, “Thanks. And you?”

“Eh,” she shrugged, “same old same old. Boring lectures on the same thing we did last week and telling us about the work due next week. What are you up to this weekend?”

“My friend Sam is coming round this weekend. I promised we would get together this month, because we keep meaning to but never get round to it, so Sam booked ticket and will be here on Friday at 4.”

“Awesome! What are your plans with Sam then?”

“I'm not sure,” Spec pushed his glasses up, “I was thinking maybe a tour of town and that new action film? I think we'll mostly just sit around and talk. And play video games.”

Cat laughed, “Of course.”

“So yeah. That's the plan. How about you?”

Cat took a long drink of hot chocolate, “Well, I was going to hang out with you, but it seems I'm going to have to bother someone else. I'll probably get Jamie to come to town with me – I haven't been clothes shopping in a while, and most of my jeans are getting ratty.”

“I bet Jamie would love to go shopping with you.”

Even if she didn't, there was no way Spec was going to be persuaded into trudging around shops for a day.

They walked back to the flat, chatting about what other things Spec could take Sam to do, but Spec knew they would probably end up doing nothing except watching films and talking until they realised it was really late. That's what usually happened. And then they either slept or got ready for lectures, depending what time it was.

Having said that, that's what usually happened around Cat, too. He could see her in his life for a very long time. He really liked her. He didn't want her to be with someone else. He had to ask her to be his girlfriend. Now he only had to figure out a way to do so without embarrassing himself. He would do something romantic. Girls liked romance, right?

He needed Sam's advice.

By the time Spec arrived at the train station on Friday, he was panicking that Cat would reject him before he even knew what to say.

“Spec!”

Sam rushed out of the train and to the barrier as quick as she could and leaned over to give him a hug.

“Sam! What's up?”

“There were a bunch of people on the train who are late for stuff, so I'm going to let them through first. I mean, I'm here now, so what's the rush, right?”

“Right.”

She took a good look at him and frowned.

“You look stressed. Happy to see me, but stressed. And since I know you don't get stressed about academic things, I'm going to guess it's about this owl-cat girl you were talking about the other week.”

See, this was why she was his best friend. He didn't have to say more than four words and she already knew what was wrong.

“Yeah, it's about Cat.”

Sam leant on the barrier, head resting on her hands.

“What happened?”

“I really like her.”

He smiled a big smile, which she returned.

“That's great! I hope she's worthy.” She joked.

He nodded, “She really is. I'm not sure I am, though.”

“Nonsense, of course you are. Ok, people are done, I'm going to come to your side now.”

Once she had got through the ticket barrier she bounced over to him (there was no other way to describe it) and hugged him again. She gave the best hugs, it was like being with family, lots of platonic love and he had missed that.

“How have you been?”

“Oh, amazing!” She grinned, “I went to see Deathly Hallows with Claire and it was a-may-zing!”

He walked them to the bus stop, “I know! I went with Cat – so good!”

She gave him another hug, “Oh, I've missed you. Why is your university so far away from mine?”

“Because we wanted different things out of life. But when we've graduated we'll get a flat together in London...”

“...and go to the theatre every night – one for the university, please – and sleep all day and party all night...”

“...until you and Claire get married and leave me on my own.”

“Aww, that's not fair! After the honeymoon we would probably let you rent a room or something.”

“Sam.”

“Besides, won't you be living it up with Cat?”

“Maybe.”

“What's will all the monosyllables all of a sudden? What's bothering you?”

“Well, I asked Cat out-”

“Congratulations on getting the courage, by the way, I remember only too well how much I had to nudge you into the direction of the last one.”

“-and that was fine, it was spur of the moment, I didn't have time to think about it.”
He continued as though Sam had said nothing.

“But I really like her.”

A beat, then Sam asked, “And?”

“And I... I don't know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him again, “Yes you do. You want her to be your girlfriend!”

Shrewd.

“Yes.”

She rolled her eyes, “And we're back to the monosyllable answers. Why don't you just ask, then?”

He stared at her above the rim of his glasses.

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, “Alright, ok, fair enough.”

“Our stop.”

“Ooh, two words!”

He showed her around the basic bits of campus – pub, shop, lecture theatres, library and LCR – giving her the “Open Day” guided tour he did for the prospective students.

They went back to the flat and he was going to introduce her to Cat, but Cat wasn't answering her door – she must have still been in class – so they had an early dinner and went to his room. He sat on his bed and she sat cross-legged on his desk chair.

“How did you ask Claire out?”

“You mean our first date or asking her to be my girlfriend?”

“Both.”

She stretched, lifting her arms high above her head.

“You remember that party Mike had when you got mumps?”

“At sixteen? You haven't been with Claire since then!”

“Spec, think it through.”

“Well shit. It really has been three years, hasn't it?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on.”

“What? Oh, yeah. Anyway, someone spiked her sodas with alcohol. I think it was Mike, actually, but I'm sure that he just wanted her to relax, not rape her or anything horrible like that. He's got a good heart.”

Spec said nothing. Mike's good heart was of no interest to him. He lay down onto the bed, hands behind his head.

“Anyway, you know how she drinks when she gets nervous. She had one too many drinks and got a bit happy. Since we were friends, I thought I'd take care of her. She was walking down the stairs from having gone to the bathroom, I think, and she tripped. I managed to catch her shoulders before she reached the bottom and smashed her head in, but we ended tangled up on the floor because she had knocked me over. She looked up at me in amazement with those big grey eyes and said, “Sammy. Hello,” and leaned up and kissed me.”

“I didn't know that.”

She cracked a smile, “You never asked. I always got the impression you didn't want to know any of it – too close to me, a bit like watching your sister and her girlfriend make out.”

He snorted, “Yeah, something like that.”

“I took her home.”

“Oooh.” Spec waggled his eyebrows.

“Not like that, you idiot,” she laughed, “I just made sure her parents didn't find out she had been drinking, even if she had been unaware of it. She slept over at my house.”

“Oooh,” Spec repeated, teasing, “ooooh.”

Sam poked him with a foot, “Hey, you want to hear the story or not?”

“Continue.”

“So. The next morning, I pushed her into the shower, got her some clothes, made her breakfast while I waited. She walked into the kitchen slowly, muttering to herself and blushing like crazy. I thought it was just the heat of the shower – this was before Dad fixed it, remember how bad it was? - but she kept her head low, thanked me for making her a bacon sandwich and apologised for kissing me. She didn't know what had come over her. I told her I didn't mind.”

Spec's eyes widened, “Not the usual, “oh, that's ok, I don't mind”!”

“Not quite. “Oh, that's ok, I don't mind, we could do it again, if you wanted.””

Spec grinned, “Hah!”

“She said she would quite like that. I asked her to dinner, she said yes. Voilà, asked her out.”

Spec considered this for a moment.

“And going steady?”

Sam blinked, “What? Honestly, sometimes I think your vocabulary shifts to that of the time period you're studying.”

Spec did his best to look unimpressed.

“She asked me. We were walking to English after a Maths test and she turned to me, smiled and asked. I said yes. End of story.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. What, were you expecting something more mushy and sentimental? Claire isn't like that. She's practical. And wonderful.”

Spec looked up to see Sam staring into space with a vague smile on her face.

“When did you last see her?”

“A couple of weeks ago. She came and stayed during her Reading Week. We had a great time.”

Spec was tempted to waggle his eyebrows again, but resisted.

“I miss her, you know? And I worry a bit, because a lot of couples split during university. And I love her.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I really do.”

Spec didn't know what to say.
“Wow.”

“Hmm. I know, right? Who would have thought?”

A moment of silence, before Sam shook herself.

“Enough of this! What did you want to know?”

“About you and Claire. I was expecting something more, I don't know, I guess just more romantic.”

“From Claire? Have you met Claire?”

To be fair, he had met Claire, but he had forgotten how scientifically minded she was. There was no art in her life unless it had been planned.

“I thought maybe she would do it for you.”

He imagined that any romance in that relationship would be centred around Sam. She was the creative, artsy type, with a penchant for spontaneity.

“Sometimes.”

“What about romance?”

“Like what? Flowers and chocolates, like in films, kisses in the rain? Kisses in the rain only work in the summer, when you don't mind getting cold and wet – at any other time it's just an inconvenience. It's not really nice, even if it is cliché romance.”

“But don't all girls like romance?”

Sam laughed, “Most of them, but people like Claire don't think that way. Besides, there is a difference between real romance and cheesy romance. Though they can both be enjoyable, there is nothing like real romance.”

Spec sat up, paying attention, “Like what?”

“For example, Claire once made a picnic for us. She took me to this little isolated spot on the beach, and it was warm because the sun was out, and we had sandwiches and biscuits on the beach. It wasn't anything fancy, but it had come from the heart because she had wanted to do something nice for me.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was.”

Another moment of silence.

“Oh my God, I'm giving you dating advice. What has the world come to?!”

She slid off the chair and onto the floor.

When they were small, they had had the same babysitter, who used to let them brush her long blonde hair. Once they had grown too old for babysitters, Sam had somehow realised that he missed brushing the babysitter's hair. So she had offered her own. Not that she lost out on this deal – not only did she get her hair gently brushed, but Spec tended to think out loud whilst doing so, which meant that she got to hear everything that was on his mind.

Spec had realised this at fifteen and protested, but she had, rightly, argued that it helped him work things through.

Sam dug in her bag for her brush and handed it to him.

“What's on your mind?”

“I can't believe we still play hairdresser, Sam.”

“Shush. No one else needs to know.”

He began to brush her hair and felt ridiculous as he began to relax.

“What's on your mind?” Sam asked again.

“Cat.”

“You want to ask her to be your girlfriend, right?”

“Yep.”

Sam absorbed this.

“Then you should.”

Spec frowned as he caught a knot, “I know I should. But how?”

“Someone just told me girls like romance, why don't you try that?”

“Oh, haha,” he tugged harder at the knot, “mock me, why don't you?”

“I just did,” she pointed out, “Seriously though, it's not that hard. She does like you, right?”

“I guess.”

From roots to tip, that's what the babysitter used to say. Long downwards strokes.

“You went out, she likes you. You spend a lot of time together?”

“Yes, but I used to spend my time attached at the hip with you when we were younger.”

“True, but you and I have known each other forever. It just isn't the same.”

“If you say so.”

He always forgot how soothing this hair brushing thing was, despite its ridiculousness.

“You should do what Claire did.”

“Ask her before class?”

“No. Make an ordinary event one that she won't forget. It may not have been the most romantic setting, but I'm never going to forget the smile she gave me when I said yes.”

“Hmm.”

Sam stopped talking and closed her eyes. She did that when she knew she was right. He would have to think about that.

By the time her hair was brushed and she had got up off the floor, it was almost 2am.

“Bedtime?”

“I think so.”

They had practically always slept in the same bed, even as kids. They had stopped and separated at the age of about fourteen, when their parents began giving them suspicious looks when they came in to check on them, but once the parents had stopped doing that, they had gone back to only using one bed, or pushing them really close.

So sleeping in this one bed here really wasn't a problem.

What was a problem, Spec found, was Cat bounding in at eleven, holding the student newspaper and singing AVPM songs.

“Good morning, Spec! Look what... who is that?”

“Hmm-wha?”

Spec hadn't even been awake when Cat had clapped her hand over her mouth when Sam had said goodmorning.

“Cat!”

He had barely had his glasses on in time to see her rush out his door.

He was on his feet and in the hallway just seconds before her door slammed shut.

“Cat. Cat!”

No answer.

He knocked, calling her name.

“Go away!”

She wasn't near the door, by the sound of her voice. On her bed, maybe.

“Cat please. You don't understand. That's Sam.”

“No, she is not. Sam is your best friend. Sam has to be a boy!”

“That is Sam and she is my best friend. I've known her since I was three. She's like a sister!”

Footsteps.

“What?”

“She's my best friend. I really want you to meet her.”

Cat unlocked the door.

“Yeah?”

“That's why she's here.”

Sort of.

Cat opened the door and leant onto the door frame.

“You can see why I thought what I thought.”

“I can. But there is only one bed.”

“You should have given her the bed and taken the floor, like a gentleman.”

“We've always slept in the same bed – I didn't think it would be so dramatic.”

“Maybe next time warn me that Sam is a girl, and I won't think the worst!”

Ah. Excellent point.

“I should have, I just didn't think. Come to meet her?”

He opened his arms. If she came to hug him, he would know they were alright. She did. He sighed in relief.

“Let's meet this Sam, then.”

Back in the room, Sam had taken the opportunity to get dressed. She was a quick-thinking girl, when she wanted to be.

“Sam, this is Cat. Cat, Sam.”

Cat put her hand out, “Nice to meet you.”

Sam looked at the hand, pushed it to one side and hugged her, “And you!”

Spec laughed at the surprise on Cat's face.

“Quiet you,” said Sam, “You really should have warned her. You didn't know I was a girl, did you?”

“Err, no.”

“Well, I am. And I am not interested in Spec at all. I have a girlfriend.”

“A long-term girlfriend.” Added Spec.

Sam gave that far away smile again, “Almost three years.”

Cat hesitated a moment, but then smiled and said, “Congratulations!”

She took Spec's hand and held it.

Spec smiled out of reflex.

Sam raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Oh, quiet you.” He mumbled.

The rest of the weekend was spent having fun. He had taken Sam to an amateur production of The Producers, which had been excellent, and they had gone to the zoo as well. Sam had insisted. She had wanted to take a picture of the two of them in front of the flamingoes that she could send to their parents, to mimic the one his mother had taken when they were small.

There was that creative side Spec had been talking about.

The words she left him with on the Monday morning after about ten hugs, were, “Goodbye, be good, ask Cat soon. Remember, romance is good, cheesy is not, and make her smile.”

She had waved at him from the train and disappeared with as much bounce as she had appeared.

He decided to walk back to the university instead of taking the bus.
It was early winter now, the cold was more chilling than cooling and the gold and orange leaves were almost all gone.

He went back to the flat, thinking that he would get warm, but he saw Cat's open door and thought they should take a walk. Yes, they should walk.
She agreed. They walked around the lake, getting hot chocolates at the little shack and the owner smiled at them. He gave them extra marshmallows for being such good customers.
They walked slowly back around, enjoying the warmth of the cup compared to the cold.

“Hey Cat?”

Her fingers were wrapped around the mug.

“Uh-huh?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

He sounded pathetic, this was ridiculous, what had Sam been talking about, make the ordinary extraordinary?

“Spec, I've been your girlfriend since you turned up in front of my door in robes.”

“Oh. Well. That's good.”

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

She smiled and looked up at the sky.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

And as they went to sit on the bench that had become theirs, sipping their drinks and holding hands, warm despite the weather, Spec started to think that maybe, just maybe, he was doing something right.