I nod.
“So, like I was saying, how’ve you bitches been?”
“You act like you never see us. We shared a lovely breakfast this morning, asshole,” Knox ribs him.
“Lovely breakfast, my ass. I poured coffee in a to-go mug for you and threw a pack of Pop-Tarts at your head on your way out the door.”
“I know. And they were the S’mores kind-- my favorite.”
“You’re a fucking weirdo.” Whit shakes his head. “So, Knox missed the live porn show that’s likely just now ending at the sorority house. What’s everybody else been up to today?”
Not wanting eyes on me, I take the opportunity to refill my plate as Booker fills us in on the incoming freshmen on the hockey team. Their season doesn't start until October, but they practice most of the year. At least, it seems that way.
“And you should ask Ty about moonlighting for campus services,” Knox chimes in.
“What’s that?” Whit asks.
“He gave Phoebe James a tour of campus on Saturday.”
“The fuck? You said you were just going to check that she made it there ok.” Whit does not look happy.
“As if that’s not creepy as hell…” Knox adds.
“It’s nothing--I just wanted to make sure she was good. And she is, so nothing for you old biddies to discuss.”
Booker shoots me a look, but I turn away. I’ve got it under control. Today’s meeting at the coffee shop was hella random--I’d be willing to bet I won’t see her for the rest of the semester.
We talk about our schedules, our classes, and random bullshit. Before long, we’re all stuffed and I feel like I need a nap.
“I cooked, which means I’m taking my beer to the deck while you losers do the dishes.” Whit laughs, pushing away from the table. “Good luck--I made a fucking mess.”
I stop him. “Hold up--we need to bring something to a vote. All in favor of hiring a cleaning service?”
“Fuck yes,” Knox calls as he runs hot water in the sink. “Whit needs to stop using my shower.”
“Mine’s nasty, man. I gotta use yours. So, yea, count me in. Hire a cleaning service. But it’s still not going to save your asses from doing the dishes tonight.”
“True, but at least if we had a cleaning service, our feet might not stick to the floor as we walk around clearing the table,” Booker says.
“Fair point. Later, boys.” Whit salutes us all and heads out to the deck.
For the first time since Booker found me at Drip earlier today, I take a breath. Crisis averted. For now.
Chapter 4
Phoebe
It’s official--college is kicking my ass and I’ve only been here two weeks. Most of my classes are fine. The art facilities are incredible and I’ll admit to spending more time than I should in the studio, instead of reading Jane Austen novels like I’m supposed to.
Take right now, for instance. I should be halfway throughSense and Sensibility,but I’m plopped on my bed, eating ramen and painting my toenails.
“Oh, honey...this is not how we do college,” Melanie admonishes as she walks into my room without knocking. Knocking seems to be a formality she doesn’t burden herself with, but if that’s the worst of my roommate stories, I figure I’ve lucked out. When he was a freshman at Mountville College, my older brother had a roommate who smuggled a ferret into their dorm and slept next to it. Like, tucked it in the covers alongside him. So, yeah, I can’t complain too much.
As usual, when I think of Dylan, my hand gravitates to the base of my neck, fingering the slim gold medallion there. It’s funny, we’re not religious, my family. We never were--not even for Christmas or Easter. My mom wasn’t raised that way, and as a single mom, she didn’t need to consider anyone else’s religious stances when raising us. But when Dylan went to states for swimming his sophomore year of high school, a girl on his team--I can’t remember her name for the life of me--gave him this medal of Saint Sebastian. The chain and medallion lasted a lot longer than the girl, but eventually, he stopped wearing it.
I found it late one night when I walked into his room, missing him even more than usual, though now I can’t remember why. It must have been an epically bad day, so I walked into his room, climbed on his bed, and curled up. Sleep was elusive, but I noticed something shiny on the floor. The chain must’ve slipped off his nightstand at some point. Instinctively, I picked it up and put it on, feeling a wave of peace settle over me. I haven’t taken it off since, though I think I’ve significantly worn down the raised stamping.
“Phoebe, did you hear me? I’m standing here mocking you and all my jokes are going to waste.”
