What’s there to like? The music is deafeningly loud, and the people are all fake. Everyone’s acting like they’re having the time of their life, but it’s all just a show.
The words jump around on the screen for a few seconds before settling into something I can actually read.
I let out a short laugh, shaking my head as I glance around. She’s kinda got a point.
The guy in the corner is taking body shots off a girl he’ll probably never talk to again. The group of sorority girls squealing like they’re best friends when I know for a fact two of them hate each other.
It’s all a performance.
Me:
Okay, you might be right. So, what do you like then, if not parties?
I take a swig of my beer, grimacing when I remember it’s warm, and toss it into the trash, taking a seat on the stairs.
I should be having fun. I’m supposed to be the guy who thrives in places like this, the life of the party, always laughing, always moving, always keeping the energy up.
But right now, I’m sitting on the stairs, staring at my phone, waiting for a reply from a girl I don’t even know.
Cherry:
We agreed. No specific details.
I groan under my breath, dragging a hand through my hair.
Me:
Come on. One tiny clue. You’re killing me here.
Someone calls my name from the kitchen, but I don’t answer. I don’t care. Not when her text comes through a few seconds later.
Cherry:
I like baking.
My lips twitch before I can stop them.
Baking.
I don’t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. I try to picture her, some faceless girl standing in a kitchen, messy hair, a smear of flour on her cheek, maybe humming to herself as she pulls something out of the oven.
Me:
Baking? That’s all you’re giving me?
Cherry:
Well, you only asked one thing. I did love baking when I was a kid, but dorm life makes it pretty much impossible now.
I can’t help but grin. That’s another little clue she’s thrown out without realizing it. She lives in a dorm.
Me:
Is that where the name Cherry comes from?
Cherry:
Maybe.
