Her - S01 E14

6 months ago

Her - S01 E14

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 14

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Olivia Woods

Xerxes left the next day. I didn't know how I managed to keep myself from begging him to stay.

I spent the day settling in my dorm. My roommate's side was already done. Her walls had pictures of nature and buildings - all of them utterly, devastatingly beautiful.

They scared me.

I sat down on my bed, looking at the pretty photographs. So talented.

The people in the hallways looked artistic, their eyes accessing everyone. All of them carried themselves with artistic grace.

I felt...small. As if I wasn't enough talented for this.

I looked at my portfolio, shuffling through the pages. All of them were pretty, I knew that, but wasn't a wow factor required?

What if a professor asked to see this portfolio and then asked Miss Arnaud to remove me from the program?

I picked up my phone, checking what time it was in NYC. It was nine in the morning there. They were probably busy at work.

I looked through my contacts and froze as my eyes fell on a forgotten number.

George Washington

I opened our texts, looking through them. Our conversations had always been peaceful. She had cared - about me - at least in my mind she had.

And I had cared about her. So much. Too much.

Right below her number was Giovanni's number.

He had been kind to me, yes, but I was not brave enough to call him.

Then my phone vibrated with a call.

Ashton.

I grinned, attending the call instantly.

"Ashton."

"How's my little one?"

I lay on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. "I'm okay. Aren't you busy?"

"No, I'm not," he said. "Did you decorate the dorm?"

"I did."

"Then why don't I have a photo of it?" He asked softly. "Be a good girl now, Little one. Facetime me."

Sitting up, I did as I was told. He had set his phone on the table. He smiled at me.

"There she is," he murmured. "I miss your pretty face."

I smiled. "I miss you, too." I moved my phone so that he could see the paintings on the wall, the prettiest replicas of my favorites. I let him look at the small bookshelf, something he winced looking at.

"Darling, that's a joke."

"It's a bookshelf."

"Shh, don't call it that." He shook his head. "Why can't you live in the apartment?"

"I want the whole experience."

"Why do you want all of it when you can have the best of it?"

I sighed. "Ashton, we went over this."

"It's just..." He sighed. "It's not safe enough."

"My roommate is not gonna throttle me in my sleep."

"You don't know that," he argued. "Just live in the apartment."

"I said I don't want to."

"It's for your own good."

I frowned. "I don't want to talk to you now."

He sighed. "Baby-"

I shook my head. "We can talk later. I have to go."

He watched me for a while. "Okay," he said gently. "Call me later, yes?"

I muttered a yes and hung up.

A few minutes passed and the door opened.

A woman stepped in. I recognized her. My roommate.

She smiled at me. Her hand, which had a few flowers painted on it, held a camera. "Hello," she said. She sounded American. "I'm so sorry for rushing out like that." She walked towards me, her light brown curls bouncing. Her body was covered in a dark leather coat, with small daisies painted on it.

She extended a hand. "I'm Daisy Rose." She smiled, blue eyes twinkling behind her glasses.

"Olivia Woods," I said, shaking her hand. "I'm assuming you're here for photography."

"What gave that away?" She grinned. "I'm assuming you're here for fine art." She looked at my wall.

I chuckled. "Yeah. I love your photographs."

"Yeah..." Her cheeks heated. "Thank you." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I really like your work," she glanced at the wall again. Almost all of them were Gogh's "Vincent fan, just a wild guess."

"And a right one." I fiddled with my fingers behind my back. I wasn't very good with conversations. And even though she didn't seem to be that used to compliments, she looked confident with her painted hands and always there grin.

She walked to her bed, took off her coat, and revealed a loose black dress. "Have you talked to anyone else?" She asked.

"Nops. I'm yet to overhear a conversation in a language I fully understand."

"How good is your french?"

"I can understand it," I said. "Speak it a little."

"Thank god they teach in English," she said, setting her camera neatly on her nightstand.

"Yeah-"

A knock sounded on the door.

I frowned. "Who's there?"

"That's a warm welcome."

I grinned, almost running to the door.

"Zavier!"

He smiled down at me, a bouquet of roses in his hands. "How's my girl doing?"