“I know,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s just…I’m getting credit for this, and your season is riding on this and I just—we are obviously not together,” she says, over-pronouncing each word. “But I still think it’s best if we keep all our interactions at the library. We don’t need any rumors to start.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” I agree, even though it doesn’t. Is the college really going to give a shit if we date? I mean, we’re obviously not going to, as Josie loves to remind me, but I’m not so sure they’d care. They want me on the ice and winning games. I doubt the dean spends any time thinking about who I share a booth with at Wolfie’s.
But we made some progress tonight. And all that talking has me a little worn out. So, I’m going to walk Josie home because she seems to be letting me and then I’m going to go back to the hockey house and hide Ollie’s favorite cereal. Serves him right.
15
Josie
It’s mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, and today is just not my day.
I rush to grab the door before it closes, but the move tips me forward a little too far, causing my bag to fall from my shoulders. Just when I’m sure that my laptop and notebooks and pens and highlighters are about to go soaring through the air only to be scattered onto the floor of the Student Union, a strong hand reaches out and saves the day.
“This yours, Josie?”
I look up into the kind eyes of my friend Pete Santos and smile. “You are a lifesaver. Thank you,” I say, taking the bag from his hands and slipping it back onto my shoulder.
He holds the door open and gestures for me to walk through. Pete and I might appear to be unlikely friends, and not just because he’s so close with Van. I’m a homebody, and Pete’s as much of a partygoer as Van. He’s everybody’s favorite guy, and it’s easy to see why. Whether he’s on the ice or bare-chested on a pool table in frat house basement, or—like right now—at a meeting of the Legacy Scholars, Pete just fits in.
One unspoken and long-standing rule of our friendship is that we never talk about Van. Since Pete is the other full-riderecipient in our year, we end up going to a lot of the same functions. If Van had been between us this whole time, those bland chicken dinners would have been even more awkward.
We stop at the registration table and when Pete offers to sign my name because my hands are full, he gets a stern look from Kendra, our secretary.
“You got me,” he says, grinning. “If you’d have let me sign this, I’d be one step closer to stealing Josie’s identity. I mean, we get mistaken for twins all the time, right?”
I laugh as he squares up next to me. Pete’s more than a foot taller than I am, and though we both have brown hair, the similarities start and end there. He’s broad and barrel-chested, whereas I’m petite and pear-shaped. My skin is fair and his is bronzed. My eyes are brown and his are deep blue. He looks like a woodsman who’s been hibernating for the winter, and I look like, well…a librarian.
Kendra doesn’t crack a smile. She just takes the pen from his hand and slips it into mine. Pete scoops up one of my bags so I don’t have to lay it on the floor while I sign my life away. And really, I’m only signing away the next hour of my life, so it’s not so bad.
We find seats at one of the small tables near the back and Pete deposits my bag onto an empty chair. I place my messenger bag on top of that and scan the room to see where the shortest food line is.
“Are they making you take the books home these days, Josie?”
I laugh. “Iris has read every book on hairless cats that our local library has, so I searched the stacks today and found a few we haven’t read yet. And the twins are devouring this new nonfiction series on cold cases, so I borrowed a few of those, too.”
“They’re lucky to have you, Josie.”
I take the compliment, even though we both know that delivering library books isn’t above and beyond the call of duty. Pete and I will never be mistaken for twins, and we don’t travel in the same social circles, but one thing we have in common is our love for our families.
Pete’s family has been through a lot these past few years, and I know the sole reason he’s at Bainbridge is to be close by if they need him. I understand that all too well.
We’re filling our plates at the buffet table when Pete nudges me. “I’m betting it lasts one hour and forty-seven minutes. You?”
“Oof. I hope not…Hmmm, I am being a fool if I guess 53 minutes?”
“No one in their right mind would call you a fool, Josie. But a wishful thinker? Definitely.”
We take our seats just in time for Kyle to call the meeting to order.
“How’s this douche still the president? Didn’t he graduate?” Pete whispers.
I shrug in response. “He’s in the MBA program. I guess no one wanted the position?”
We all eat while Kyle drones on about the events that are planned for the year. Everyone in here has received an academic scholarship of some kind, and we’re all required to attend a certain number of meetings and dinners, many of which are hosted by donors and supportive alumni. I can’t complain, because my scholarship grants me full tuition, plus room and board. It makes life a lot easier for Levi and me, even if it means sitting through meetings with Creepy Kyle.
I’m eating the last of my carrot cake when Kyle calls for us to break out into committees. I clear my plate and gather my stuff to move to the center table. I’m hoping Pete will tag along, but he heads for the door.
“Is your committee meeting in the parking lot?” I tease.
