I scramble to grab the phone and swipe accept.
“Don’t even think about blowing me off,” Jenna says by way of greeting. “It’s your birthday and dammit, we are celebrating whether you like it or not.”
The corner of my mouth hitches skyward. “You and I have very different ideas of what that entails.”
Mine includes a big ass slice of lemon cake with no less than three layers of cream cheese frosting. Jenna’s includes loud music, Greek Row, and handsy dudes with questionable judgment.
“Where are you?” she asks, suspicion coloring her words. “Because I’m standing out front of Sig Chi and you’re nowhere in sight.”
That’s because I was shaking my ass for money on the internet.
“Sorry. I had some work to finish up, and I lost track of time.”
Jenna is my best friend, but even she doesn’t know about my side hustle. No one does.
She sighs. “You’re still at home, aren’t you?”
Busted.
“Yes, but I’m almost ready,” I promise, slipping the red dress off the hanger.Multitasking for the win. If it weren’t for my fans, I’d still be trying to figure out what to wear. “I’ll be there in ten. Fifteen at the latest.”
“Giiirl. How are you gonna be late on your own birthday?”
I snort, because she’s one to talk. Jenna and I bonded over our mutual tardiness when we were forced to take Sociology of the Family at 8 a.m. freshman year. The prof took immense pleasure in humiliating late arrivals, which was just wrong because…sociology. Three years later and we’re still tight, bound by tedious lesson plans and a love of iced coffee.
“How much homework can you have, anyway?” she asks, the raucous sounds of the party carrying through the line. “Classes just started.”
“The sooner I get off the phone, the sooner I’ll get out the door,” I tease, dodging her question as I shimmy into the halter, careful not to snag the fabric on my sky-high heels. “Go get your drink on. I’ll find you when I get there.”
Hell, she’ll probably have a better time without me.
Greek Row isn’t my scene. I’d rather spend my Saturday night curled up with a good book and a bottle of cheap wine, which is just one of the reasons I don’t have many friends in College Park. But between work and school, who has time for a social life?
Besides, I can socialize after I graduate.
“Fine, but you better text me the instant you arrive,” Jenna orders. “The girls can’t wait to see you!”
I roll my eyes and disconnect. ‘The girls’ probably don’t give a damn whether I show up or not. Jenna is a sweetheart, but her roommates are toxic AF. The last time I hung out with them, Kylie—or maybe it’s Rylee?—goaded Jenna into doing way too many tequilashots. And then, when she could hardly stand, they ditched her to go dancing at another bar.Dancing. Like leaving her behind, blitzed out of her mind, wasn’t a bigfuck youto girl code.
God only knows what would have happened if I hadn’t been there to take her home.
All’s well that ends well.
Banishing the memory, I duck into the closet and grab a tiny black clutch that can be worn crossbody.
My phone vibrates and I don’t need caller ID to know it’s Jenna. The girl has zero chill, which is number nineteen on the list of reasons I love her.
I stuff the phone in my bag, touch up my lipstick, and head out.
It’s humid as hell when I step onto the sidewalk in front of my apartment building—yay global warming—and I can feel my hair frizz, one golden strand after another curling as it sucks up the moisture in the air.
A tiny voice in the back of my head begs me to spring for an Uber, but it’s not happening. I work too damn hard to blow cash needlessly, especially this early in the semester.
Halfway down University Drive, my cell vibrates again.
This time, I fish it out of my purse, expecting to see Jenna’s name, but when I glance at the screen my stomach drops.
Nora.
