I knew it was ridiculous on a practical level, though this still didn’t stop it from being ingrained in my DNA. Like how people know that a box of donuts is unhealthy but pick them up every time they go shopping. Some things just go beyond logic.
I sat on the ledge around the fountain, cold, rough, cement scraping the backs of my bare legs. Augustus and I were set to meet just after lunch. The massive face on the clock tower was banging into position at ten after, but it wasn’t Augustus who approached me at that time.
“Morning, sunshine!”
“Hey, Jenna.”
“Why so gloomy, goosey?”
“I’m not.”
“Just focused?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s his name?”
I looked up so fast my neck almost popped. How did she know that? Was I really so obvious?
“Augustus,” I said.
“Well, there’s a name you don’t hear every day!”
“He’s named after a Roman emperor. At least, I think. It’s the name of an emperor, anyway.”
“Is he cute?”
I searched my mind for the right answer to that. Of course I found him attractive. But not just in a general way, but a unique, tragic way. He was definitely the most handsome man I had ever seen, but I didn’t want to sound like an idiot by confessing that I felt that way.
His face was cute, his body muscular and strong, all the hallmarks of male attractiveness I had been taught to admire. But there was something else, too. A sort of haunted factor that made him look vulnerable despite his confidence.
It made me want to take care of him, and not just because of his disability. Or at least I assumed it was a disability, although I wasn’t sure if it was a birth defect or something that had happened in an accident. I’d noticed it right away. The scarring on his right eye, turning it milky white.
I wondered if he could see out of it or if he was partially blind. A lot of people I knew would have worn an eye patch, but Augustus refused to hide. Being himself and accepting his limitations made me respect him even more.
It was crazy. I’d seen him exactly once in my entire life and I was already obsessing over him. Except I wasn’t actually so sure that this was the first time I’d met him. There was something about him that seemed really familiar, even though I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. A sort of subconscious recognition, kind of like déjà vu, only more sinister.
“Shall I take that as a no?” Jenna asked
I snapped back to reality, remembering that Jenna was there and had asked a question, setting off my reverie.
“No, I mean, yes, he’s really attractive, but I wouldn’t call him cute. He’s not a little pug dog.”
“That him?” Jenna asked.
I looked toward her gaze, seeing Augustus coming through the crowd in the quad and staring in our direction, which wasn’t hard to tell, since he stood at least half a head taller than everyone else.
“Uh-huh,” I intoned, losing my ability to construct full words.
“I can see what you mean,” Jenna said, nudging me gently.
“Do you have class soon or something?” I asked, gently as I could.
“Message received.”
Grabbing her backpack, Jenna headed off on her merry way, leaving the spot beside me vacant for Augustus, a fact he took full advantage of. I caught him staring at my chest as he sat down. Not that I minded at all. He was very subtle and almost respectful about the whole thing. But I wanted him to rip my shirt off and touch me.
His gaze felt less like ogling and more like appreciation of something beautiful. Like an eye-catching work of art. I could feel the blush run from my cheeks down to the tops of my breasts.
“Been waiting long?” he asked.
“No,” I lied, wanting to chuckle to myself about the fact that, unlike me, he didn’t feel obliged to honor society’s sense of time.
“Good. Let me get you my notes.”
He opened the top of his patchwork backpack, which looked like it had been sewn together out of scraps of leather like a quilt. The drawstring holding the top closed had a thin length of chain added with a tiny padlock.
Thwarting his security, he took out a sheaf of paper, held together with a staple in the top, left-hand corner. The paper was fresh, seeming to glow in the bright sun.
“I did it like bullet points, going scene by scene,” Augustus said, as I flipped through the pages.
“Thanks,” I said, unable to think of anything clever to say.
“I didn’t do it for all the movies. Just Scorpio and the next couple by Richard Kern. I have a pretty full plate and can only do two or three at a time for Experimental Film. My prof. for practical cinematography is a bit of a loon. Guy is obsessed with Kubrick, like, to a stalkerish degree.”