What Are Friends For?

CHAPTER SEVEN: WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

IVAN'S POV

An uneasy feeling rose in Ivan's chest.

Sasha would love this place, Ivan thought to himself.

Ivan glanced at his phone as the device hummed quietly in his palm. Its screen flashed with a caller ID notification. He thumbed his screen to see an image of his dad. His father's image was a man well dressed in his 40s and a bitter frown. Ivan returned the smirk as he answered his phone.

"Dad?"

"Son, I'm sorry I couldn't send you off to school today." The man labored as he tapped his fingers on what Ivan could only assume was his office desk.

"I've been tied up in meetings all day," his father continued, "so I bought a guide for you."

Ivan scoffed, "a guide? I'm not five."

His father lets out a hearty laugh over the phone, "yet Sasha tells me that you left everything important at home."

Ivan grinds his teeth together to form a forced smile, "it won't happen again, sir."

"Damn right," Mr. Leray spats, "your guide's name is James, and he'll show you the ropes. Don't mess this up, Ivan."

Followed by a click, his father ends the call abruptly. While Ivan wasn't thrilled about his new arrangements, he was thankful that his father selected Briggs University. The marble floors were polished, and the programs at the college weren't half bad. It shouldn't be hard to dwell among the general public, and carry through his mission as an average American John Doe citizen.

Ivan lowered his screen as he glanced around the lobby before spotting a tall man leaning against the wall by the elevators. He had a backpack draped over his shoulders while holding an additional one with pink frills running down its glossy cover. The man wore a blazer with the university's torch symbol and a baseball cap monogrammed with a 'J'. This must be the bloke.

"Nice bag," Ivan huffed at the man, smiling at his own mockery.

The man looked up with hooded eyes before returning the smile innocently, "oh, you like it?" He pulls the bag up over his shoulder laughing, "wasn't sure if there was enough pink!"

As if he could read minds, the guy straightened up, "hey, you Ivan Leray?"

"Yeah," Ivan breathe aloud, "that's me."

James pushed himself off the wall and made his way to Ivan. Holding out his hand as Ivan tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. The pink bag dripping on James forearm, "my friend forgot her bag so I thought I'd be a gentleman and return the pink monstrosity to its owner."

There's no way I was touching a stranger's hand. No telling when the last time he washed them.

"Names James Ross," he smiled enthusiastically.

"Nice to meet you, James," Ivan says trying to smile back.

It really wasn't.

Ivan notice his hand still extended out, "you seem like a nice guy, but I don't shake hands. I'm a germaphobe."

James laughs off his rejection before turning away, ushering Ivan to follow with his hand gesture, "no need to explain your sexuality-"

"That's not-"

"I'm kidding," James replied coolly, "you're going to hate your next class though."

Ivan raises his eyebrow in curiosity, "it's just chem lab."

"Yeah," James whistled as they entered the elevators, "but Mrs. Collings isn't necessarily neat. Or predictable."

He clicked the fifth-floor button and chatted vigorously about trivial things. How to make it to the cafeteria first, what books to order (and not purchase), avoid the bathrooms on the eighth floor, and so on.

"Oh, your dad said you left your ID at home but that you'd have it by lunch," James held out his laminated tag, "so, lucky for you, we share the same morning schedule. Just scan your chip at the class door and you should be good to go."