That's all. Nothing mystical or inexplicable.

A variety of physical cues such as eye contact, proximity and sexual activity triggered the release of dopamine and oxytocin. These neurotransmitters then facilitated the release of hormones—usually adrenaline, cortisol and norepinephrine—responsible for certain bodily reactions like increased blood pressure, shortness of breath and overheating.

In short, symptoms of a terrible asthma attack. That was love.

My unwanted feelings for Jamie were just a chemical reaction. They arose because I provided the reactants—eye contact, proximity, sexual activity—and set them over high heat. So logically, it followed that if I removed the reactants and turned down the heat, the reaction would stop. That was my master plan, leaving Halston for the Christmas break.

Three weeks of distance would fix this. Easy-peasy.

While I was at home with my parents and Aaron, I thought little of my life in Halston. But when I was alone, usually lying in bed after a lazy day, thoughts of Jamie returned full force. I didn't even think about his body. The first week, I actually thought about how immature he seemed in public, only to become curious and thoughtful in private.

"What's your type of girl, Jamie?"

My eyes shot open in the dark. Did we ever have a conversation like that? It felt so much like a memory, blurry at the edges and transparent like hydrochloric acid, and yet I couldn't imagine where we'd have spoken like that. So intimately.

After fruitlessly searching my mind, I fell asleep and woke restless.

The second week came.

The Soks' Christmas holidays were always simple, without embellishments, no tree, no gifts. It was just about spending time together as a family, which eluded me more and more the older I became. Having working-class parents would do that to you. We Skyped relatives during the days and watched Hallmark movie reruns during the evenings. At midnights, I thought about how Jamie had readily given up a night he could have used to study, hang out with friends or play video games to talk me through my endo cramps.

I thought about that fairytale he told me. What was the moral? Every fairytale was moralising. His one was no exception. The way to a girl's heart is through laughter. Probably not, but it sounded the most romantic.

Though that sucked for Jamie, because he wasn't funny in the slightest.

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By the time everyone returned to Halston, I realised I had failed spectacularly. It was as if the chemical reaction had never stopped, simmering away quietly. Either I hadn't given it long enough... or no amount of lonely nights would ever rid me of Jamie.

It was re-orientation week. The second round of house parties along the student row. The second round of bar crawls to town before the spring semester started. The second round of drinking away my emptiness.

This time a year ago, all my friends had moved into the dormitory. Jamie had merely been some annoying acquaintance of an acquaintance. The twin brother of some dude I had shared one class with the year prior. We were friends in the newly-minted, meaningless way. No knowledge of each other. No loyalties. No heartache. Now...

Now, I compared the way my sheets smelt after doing laundry to after he'd spent the night. I knew which scent I preferred, and I knew it was pathetic.

We were still ignoring each other so I could never tell this to his face, but over the holidays I had missed him. So much that hurt to look at him and not be able to touch him.

Thankfully, when I set eyes on Jamie again, the welcome-back party on the eighth floor was already in full swing. I could wrap myself in the plentiful sights and sounds like a distraction. I could become a melody dissolving in the air.

Jamie and Jake stepped out of the elevator lobby, surrounded by a bunch of their football friends. They'd eaten dinner at Ravi's apartment. I guessed that was the time to unwind and catch up with the boys, before using the hall as a launching pad for town.

Some of the players dispersed into the common room immediately, striking up a conversation with the thirty other students scattered between the couches and tables. Jake slid out of his coat and dived for a PlayStation console.

Jamie hung back, pretending like he hadn't seen me when I knew he had. He'd gotten a haircut over the holidays, I noticed. It had been growing out last semester, but now the sides were shaved and incrementally edged into the thicket of brown locks. He wore a navy blue fleece shirt that hugged the planes of his body, and it looked like he smelled really good.

Can't handle that right now.

I turned my head away. In one hand, I had a paper cup of rum-and-coke, mixed by yours truly, and Riley's shoulder in the other. We swayed along to the music with a group of our floormates by the panoramic window. I drank and drank and drank, accepting sealed bottles of beer from football players and raspberry cruisers from strange girls who immediately became my 'bestie.' Drunk women were the best.

My plan was to forget Jamie. Forget it all, forget the pang of sliding into a cold, empty bed.

A vibration at my hip alerted me to my phone ringing.

The name on the caller ID shot through my brain like a spear of ice. I stopped dancing abruptly; thankfully, Riley was too far gone to notice. My fingers moved of their own accord, flicking through buttons to get rid of my most recent ex—if two years of minimal contact could be called recent.

I needed something stronger than beer and cruisers.

A deep, familiar voice called behind me. "Who's Eric?"

Panic seized me, binding my hands to my sides and my feet to the floor. I took several deep breaths, trying to shake off the icy grip of history from the edges of my mind.

Damn him.

I turned around, leaning back against the kitchenette counter, frowning at Jamie. "I don't know, who is Eric? Did you get a new lover while I was gone?"

Jamie scoffed, half-laughing at me like I was a child. He explained pointedly, "I saw his name on your phone."

That call had come five minutes ago. It seemed no-one noticed my reaction, given that Riley and Sushmita were still dancing in the spot I left them. Krista and Quentin hadn't joined in tonight because they didn't have the capacity for partying I did—they were likely shacked up at Quentin's apartment watching Star Wars reruns.

Since Eric had called, I'd retreated to my room to down three shots of vodka—more like two lengthy gulps, actually—and returned to the common room believing I hadn't been missed.

How wrong I was.

I crossed my arms. "What, are you spying on me now?" I hated how defensive I looked and sounded, but it felt like Jamie was trying to pry my heart open. He already had my body; could he just be happy with that and shove off?

"I was just going to talk to you when he called. Not my fault you're so short, flashing your phone for all to see."

I raised my voice over the music and abrupt cheering of the PlayStation gamers. "Not my fault you're so tall, peeking down at everyone's private matters."

"Why aren't you partying with your friends?" He glanced towards Riley and the slew of girls I'd met and befriended within the span of an hour.

I jerked my chin mockingly towards the footballers trying to get into their pants and smirked. "Why aren't you partying with your friends?"

Jamie steamrolled over my facade. "Why'd you block him?"

So he'd seen what I'd done. I shifted my weight against the kitchenette counter, looking up into his hazy, inquisitive eyes. "Private. Matters."

Jamie's steady hand closed around my wrist as I pushed away, but I wrenched it away with a ferocious tug. I needed to get out of the common room. I needed to be alone.

The pounding music from the Jays' Bluetooth RGB speaker masked the slam of the door as I fled to the corridor, walking as staunchly as I always did.

I needed something stronger than vodka.

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"I don't remember anything from last night," I told Riley, tugging open the front door to the dormitory.

Though we were both severely hungover, the demands of college called. We had eaten breakfast late and walked to campus to buy textbooks for our classes. As an English Literature major and a lover of antiquity, Riley insisted on buying hard copies of her reading lists for annotating her favourite lines and dog-earing the pages and generally merging her soul with that of the books.

In comparison, I skipped paper copies whenever I could and bought what I absolutely must. I was a hardcore pirate-whatever-I-could-from-shady-open-source-websites type of girl. Not the most ethical activity, but I wasn't showering in dollar bills. Though I could easily say that pouring my money into alcohol and lost memories wasn't the wisest investment, either.

It was with these fundamental academic differences between us that I carried one of Riley's hefty bookstore shopping bags and a single textbook for myself. The interior of the accommodation lobby was immediately warmer than the frosty January air outside.

Riley groaned and slapped her head. "I wish I couldn't remember anything from last night."

"Like when you let the offensive tackle stick his tongue down your throat?"

"Fuck, shut up," Riley hissed, her face contorting with embarrassment. She glanced around the lobby as we walked to the elevator, but no-one was around to witness her regret. Nor would anyone care. "I was so drunk, okay?"

"Did you forget who you're talking to? I'm the queen of drunken hookups. I'm congratulating you, not judging."

Riley loosed a breathy, unsteady chuckle. The girl was completely new to casual. The breakup with Phoenix had done a number on her confidence, and even now I could see her conflict moving from a nearly five-year relationship to making out with someone whom she didn't even care about.

The only advice I would give her is not to fall for the sucker. But that would make me such a hypocrite.

"I thought you said you didn't remember last night," Riley said slyly, as soon as the elevator doors enclosed us in privacy.

"I remember seeing you get some action. And the pre-game at the dorm. But I don't remember leaving for town, like at all." That was true. All my memories from last night were tied to the common room, much less the rest of Halston, even though I had photographic proof I'd made it to Topaz.

Riley pushed her caramel-framed glasses further up her nose. Half-moons of fog had formed at the bottom because of the stark temperature difference between outside and inside, but they were rapidly fading. "You're truly another breed, Viv."

"Aw, shucks," I quipped. "I love you, too."

We were hungover and tired, but Riley and I stepped out onto the eighth floor laughing. Only for my throat to tighten when I saw Jamie in the common room, brewing a jug of coffee at the kitchenette.

Shirtless.

I usually had endless witticisms for situations like this, because there was no logical reason for him wearing his grey sweatpants and nothing else in the dead of winter. I would have made a snarky comment about him overcompensating for insecurity or fishing for compliments, if my mouth hadn't gone drier than the Atacama.

But Riley saved me. "Is it dark outside? Because I'm seeing headlights."

Jamie cracked a grin at her, his stare skipping right over me. "So don't look, missy. I was running warm today."

"It's freezing outside," Riley said.

Other than Riley, Jamie and me, there were four other people in the common room: the three Pre-Law residents studying at the window-side table and Jake, lounging low on the couch, legs extended in front of him. He scrolled through his girlfriend's Facebook timeline, dropping comments on the most embarrassing pictures.

Jake had delved into territory so ancient that I started glimpsing Retrica selfies of Avalon when Riley and I sat down next to him. "You're a terrible boyfriend," I joked, deciding instantly which twin deserved my attention.

He snickered devilishly. "I know, right? This is retaliation for Av posting my naked baby photos on her Instagram story."

I giggled brightly. I remembered seeing that; she'd captioned the story with an eggplant emoji and the tiny pinching fingers.

"Cruel," I clicked my teeth. Behind me, behind the couch, I heard the cupboards opening violently as Jamie pulled out a mug. I still didn't turn around.

I leaned closer to Jake and exclaimed, "Oh my, God, that grid format gives me PTSD."

That did it. Jamie piped up, "Must have been a refreshing trip to campus if it's as cold as you say."

I scoffed and glanced over my shoulder, keeping my eyes fixed above his neck. Dangerous waters lay below.

"We did need the wake-up call," Riley admitted, likewise twisting her torso around to the kitchenette. "Viv blacked out last night, and I'm not in any better shape."

"She did?" Jamie echoed. I noticed that he spoke about me in the third person. I noticed his daring eyes fixed on me from over the rim of his mug, and the toned shoulders I'd once viciously gripped as he slid into me—

I dragged my stare back to his face. "Yes," I gritted out.

"So nothing new," Jamie drawled.

I narrowed my eyes. "Is that a problem?"

"Not for me," he said innocently, "But drowning your problems in alcohol is not very becoming of any young adult."

His pompous words rankled like nails on a chalkboard.

"Well, who fucking asked you?"

Every single other habitant of the common room fell silent. The Pre-Law girls were concertedly reading over case files, while Riley stared at the TV and Jake resumed his Facebook stalking.

It was no secret by now that Jamie and I were fucking, but I was sure no-one knew what had happened since then. Him developing feelings, and reducing our relationship to an impossible choice: either fully committed to each other, or nothing. I had no compathy for his unrequited infatuation when he saw everything as so black and white.

What was so wrong about being just friends with benefits? I'd be lying if I said I didn't desire him still, the lust so sharp even after all these weeks. But no, Jamie was taking the moral high ground like some patron saint of fuck buddies. Oaf.

Jamie raised his eyebrows, sighing pretentiously like he'd just sipped coffee from heaven itself. "You're right, I guess. Catch you later," he said to no-one in particular. Then he walked his stupid shirtless self and his stupid mug of coffee out of the common room with his head held high.

Jake was the only one who farewelled him, calling "Catch ya, bro," after his twin. But when the door to the corridor swung shut once more, Jake turned to me and sang-song, "Awkward."

Yep.

Every bit of me agreed.

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You ever pull an essay out of your ass last minute and it turns out damn good? That's me currently, so I thought I'd share the goodwill and publish another chapter.

Vote, comment and follow if you enjoyed!

Aimee x