“And? Do you still like it?”
“It’s not my favorite, but that’s why I’m getting my masters in Psych.”
Shayler clicked her tongue. “Of course, you’re a grad student.”
He smiled, but his eyes didn’t crinkle like normal. “Look, it’s going to be hard to figure out what path you want to take as is, but it’s going to be impossible if you don’t try.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” he drawled, “that if you keep skipping Intro to Crim, you’ll never really know if you don’t like it. Same goes for your other classes.”
Shayler cursed him for making sense. It was probably the soundest advice she’d received since Rebecca had told her that it wasn’t a good idea to put a radio on the side of the tub when she was taking a bath.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to give my fullest in Crim, though.”
“Why not?”
“Uh, you were present in class today. Why do you think? I flunked my first pop quiz, the professor thinks I’m some airhead floozy, and I have no clue what we’re even studying right now.”
David’s face brightened, and Shayler forced down the lump that was forming in her throat. “Lucky for you that we’re friends.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I happen to be TA for the class you need help in.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me the answers to the tests?”
“No, it doesn’t. But I can help you study and go over anything you missed.”
“You mean I’ll spend my free time reading a textbook?” Shayler pretended to choke. She’d rather walk barefoot through the Woodville apartment complex and then lick the bottoms of her feet.
“If you don’t want my help, fine.” He pretended to walk off, but she knew he wouldn’t go far.
Shayler bit her lip. David was right. She’d need to start trying. She refused to let some intro course be the first college class she’d fail, and she would never give Hale the satisfaction of transferring out. Organic Chemistry had been tough, but she’d managed to pass that last semester. Besides, being around David a lot didn’t sound like a rotten deal. Maybe she’d be able to convince him to give casual sex a try, especially since there was no way in hell she’d let Professor Dickwad take her for a ride.
“All right,” she called out after him. “Help me.”
He waited for her to catch up and handed her a slip of paper. His number was scribbled down in doctor-like handwriting. “I’m usually free Friday nights.”
“Hold up. You expect me to give up my Friday nights to study? The one night where it’s socially acceptable to get wasted and hook up with some rando? No way.”
David looked at the high, cream-colored ceilings. “I can do Thursday nights, but we’d have to meet up somewhere.”
Shayler scowled. If she chose David over girls’ night, she’d never live it down. Plus, she’d offend Rebecca. Even though Derek had started infiltrating their special night, her friend would still assume Shayler canceling was intended as a personal insult.
“You can’t do any other days?”
“I have class and TA duty every day of the week except Thursday, so I use that for studying. Friday nights and Sundays are the only days my roommate’s out of the house, and I use Sunday to catch up on my TA stuff.”
“Basically, what you’re telling me is that you’re either in class or studying or doing work?”
He nodded once. “Pretty much.”
“That’s really, really sad.”
“Your version of a Friday night sounds pretty sad to me.”
“Agree to disagree,” she mumbled. “Fridays, then?”
“Really?”
“Yes, but don’t push your luck.”
“Hey, I’m the one doing you a favor.”
Shayler stuck her tongue out. “Whatever. I’ll text you later.”
“See you Friday for class.”
She gave him a two-finger salute. What had happened to her? Not only would she have to attend another class without properly preparing, but she’d have to spend that night relinquishing her college right to party in favor of studying. Actual studying, probably with note-taking and highlighting too.
While Rebecca was off getting laid and having multiple orgasms at the hands of a sex god, Shayler was planning a study date like she was prepping for the freaking SATs. She winced at the bile that rose in her throat, wondering when, exactly, she’d switched bodies with her best friend.
Chapter Eleven
“I just don’t see why we have to all hang out,” Rebecca argued, fumbling with her fingers like she wore an invisible thimble.
“Because Whitney was just dumped, Vivian and Sarah are Off right now, and I don’t want to leave Gigi alone.”
“But—”
Shayler covered her best friend’s mouth and bounced on the bed restlessly. “It’s a girls’ night, right?” She uncovered Rebecca’s mouth.
“Yeah, but—”
“And you’ve brought Derek before. I want to bring my roomies, at least they have vaginas.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “We have to take a vote.”
Shayler glanced at Ansley who was still folded up neatly in Rebecca’s desk chair. “So?”
“Whatever. I don’t care.”
“Come on, Ans! Don’t you remember the last time we all hung out? They kept asking me if I was seriously a virgin.”
“Ooh, the Great Hymen Debate of 2016. I forgot about that. What was the conclusion?” Shayler wagged her eyebrows.
“There was a little blood…”
“Damn,” Shayler muttered. “That means Vivi was right. I really thought riding a bike—”
“Stop.” Rebecca stretched out her legs. “They can come, but no sex talk.”
“Trust me, Becca, the only one with a great sex life right now is you. No one’s gonna want to talk about it.”
Ansley nodded, and Shayler couldn’t help but wonder when the last time she’d had sex was. As much as Ansley went out, she never left with any men. Which was a shame because she was wasting the whole girl-next-door-thing she had going on.
“But,” Rebecca began, grinning like she was about to stir a cauldron full of dry ice, “if they come, you’re being designated caretaker.”
Shayler gasped in horror. “I’ve never had to be caretaker.”
“I’ve cleaned up enough vomit in my lifetime.”
“And once was more than enough for me,” Ansley said.
“Getting drunk is what I’m good at,” Shayler whined, spinning around to show off her favorite long-sleeved party dress. “I’m the comic relief.”
“Oh, I think it’ll be plenty funny watching you wipe up Vivian’s saliva when she passes out and dealing with Gigi when she tries to fight the bartender.”
“You’re evil.”
“I learned from the best.”
“Let’s get a move on,” Ansley said. “If I have to put up with Tales from the Bong all night, I’m going to need a shot … or four.”
“Whitney stopped smoking,” Shayler mentioned as she stuffed a wad of cash into her bra.
“Then it’ll be Tales from the Dong,” Ansley mumbled, stepping into a pair of low heels.
Shayler cackled and let Rebecca usher them forward. No matter what her friend said, Shayler doubted that Rebecca could hold her to sobriety all night. What was the point of going out if she couldn’t numb her mind a bit?
They piled into Shayler’s old, faded blue Mazda, and she grumbled as she buckled her seatbelt into place. She hated being the driver, it made her feel like some old mom taking her kids to the mall so they could have fun while she spent her night drinking wine on the couch and ordering jewelry from the television because her impotent husband certainly wasn’t going to buy it for her.
By the time she shrugged off the day-mare, they were walking into Skeeter’s like they owned the place. After three years of repeated weekly visits, the booming alt rock flew in one ear
and out the other, and the days-old smoke smell rolled right off her.
Her roommates were already there, crowded around a booth in the corner. Rebecca trudged in first, and Shayler smooshed up beside Gigi, allowing Ansley the most breathing room with an end seat. Not that Shayler minded. She liked being packed tightly in between her closest friends. It was a reminder that they were all out together, ready to have a fun time.
“Hey,” Rebecca said, staring at her cuticles.
“Sup,” said Gigi.
“Hi,” Whitney muttered.
Vivian gave her a nod.
Shayler fought an eye roll. She hated that her two closest groups of friends refused to mix. Her roommates swore that Rebecca was too uptight and Ansley was boring. Ansley and Rebecca thought her roommates were floozy and dim.
“So turns out, riding a bike doesn’t make a girl lose her technical virginity,” Shayler said as Ansley and Whitney stood to get drinks.
Gigi smacked the table. “I knew it.”
Rebecca reddened. “Shayler!”
“What?” Shayler shrugged. “We had a bet.”
As Ansley and Whitney returned, Vivian was more than happy to relay the information. Shayler was pleased to find that Whitney’s usually mopey frown curled upwards.
“How was your first time?”
Rebecca opened her mouth, but no words came out. Before their best friend could continue her trout impression, Ansley stepped in and changed the subject. None of them liked to remember Rebecca’s technical-first time, and the topic was usually categorized as more taboo than walking into a men’s locker room and discussing tampon brands. Instead, they referred to when Rebecca and Derek had left the Italian place and ended up doing it in his car like a couple of animals as their real first time.
“How’s school?” Ansley asked.
There was a round of groans. Shayler scrunched her nose as she glanced around the table. Vivian stirred her cocktail and checking her phone. Whitney sucked on a bottle of water like she was a nursing baby. Gigi tossed back two shots before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Next question,” Shayler said. Girls’ night was starting to become a real bummer. She sipped on her coke and repeatedly told herself that it was rum.
“Sarah called me today,” Vivian started.
“Nope.” Shayler pushed past Ansley until she’d almost dumped the blonde off the bench and onto the perpetually stained floor.
She stood at the helm of the table, and five miserable girls stared back at her. With a shake of her head, she turned and ordered five shots from the bartender, rewarding him with a wink and sly grin. Then, she faced her friends again.
“If I have to be designated caretaker tonight,” she said, ignoring the snickers from her roommates, “then I’m forcing all of you to have fun.” She waited for the shots to be set down in front of her and looked pointedly at Rebecca. “All of you.”
“Uh-uh. I’m not drinking again, remember?”
“You will take this shot and loosen up, or I will kidnap Sir Cuddles and toss him in the fountain.”
Rebecca scoffed. “Do you really think you can threaten my teddy bear to get to me? I’m a grown woman, and—”
“I’ll have Whitney make him into a bong.”
Whitney nodded. “It can be done.”
Rebecca tugged instinctively at the gold chain that was around her neck. “You’re a bitch.”
Shayler pushed the liquor toward her. “Yes. Now, drink.” She smiled as her friends reached forward and took their drinks quickly. Rebecca, of course, was last to go, coughing as she sipped it down. Shayler waited until she’d swallowed before continued. “Great. Now, we’re going to go in a circle and share the one thing we’re most ashamed of.”
“What?” Rebecca cried.
“Hell no,” Gigi said.
“Why?” Ansley asked.
Shayler tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Because, once we share our secrets, you guys will realize we’re all human beings with things in common, and maybe we’ll be able to hang out nicely once in a while.”
Whitney tilted her head to the side. “I’m in.”
“Good. You first.” Shayler sat down beside Ansley, ignoring the blonde’s furrowed brow and angry eyes.
“Okay. Well, most ashamed about? Probably wasting so long on Jeremy and not noticing that he only came around after I’d replenished my stash.” Whitney sniffled and rubbed her nose. “And, you know, loving him.”
“Thank you for sharing,” Shayler said slowly, emphasizing each word to encourage the others to do the same.
“Yeah, but that’s on him,” Ansley said. “He’s the asshole. You shouldn’t be ashamed. It wasn’t your fault.”
Whitney grinned. “Thanks.”
“Okay, Vivian?”
Vivian swished her cocktail in her mouth for a few seconds. “The time I told my grandma that I have a boyfriend who lives in California. She thinks that he owns a portion of Apple and we’re gonna get engaged soon.”
“Didn’t you tell her that last week?” Gigi asked.
Vivian hunched over. “Maybe.”
“Thank you, Vivi,” Shayler said. “Rebecca?”
Rebecca stuck her tongue out at her best friend and thumbed her locket. “I’m most ashamed of letting my behavior class’s grade slip because I skipped two classes this semester.”
“You skipped two already?” Shayler widened her eyes. “Why?”
A pink hue coated Rebecca’s skin as she bit her bottom lip. “Derek and I were … busy … and I lost track of time.”
“You skipped class for a quickie?” Shayler reached over and clapped her friend on the back. “’Atta girl!”
“Wait, what’s your grade now?” Ansley asked.
“Ninety-four,” Rebecca mumbled. “I got a stupid B on the last test.”
Gigi choked on her new vodka soda. “Wow. Terrible grade.”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “I’m used to straight As.”
“I really hope you get over such a terrible loss.”
“Stop it,” Shayler interjected. “Gigi, it’s your turn.”
“I don’t know how I’m ever gonna top that one. Um… I’m most ashamed of … losing out on a pair of awesome combat boots I saw on clearance last week. They were fifty percent off, but I didn’t think I needed them. Total mistake.”
“Sorry, you’re ashamed of not buying shoes?” Rebecca stared at Shayler.
“It’s Gigi,” Shayler said.
“I say what I want, do what I want, and have no regrets,” Gigi said.
“I’ll cheers to that,” Shayler said, laughing as she clinked her coke with Gigi’s and hoped that some of the liquor spilled over into her glass. “Ansley, you go.”
“Me?” Ansley shook her head, and blonde hair flew around her, catching on her small, diamond earrings. “No thanks. I’m good.”
Rebecca nudged her. “Come on. It’s okay.”
Ansley crossed her arms. “I don’t want to.”
“I’ll go,” Shayler said. “And then you can go.”
“Oh, and what are you most of ashamed of? Not doing David Hoffner?” Rebecca asked.
Shayler willed her body not to heat up at the mention of a David. “Nope.” She pondered it for a moment. “I’m ashamed that I didn’t explore my career choices way earlier.”
They all fell silent, and Shayler figured their frozen stances meant they were in shock. She ran her finger around the rim of her glass and slumped onto her hand. “It’s not like I want to pick one yet, but somehow I’ve totally screwed myself by not paying attention to the options.”
“Aw, you’re growing up,” Rebecca teased, poking Shayler in the ribs.
“Ew, no. I’m just saying, I wish I would’ve taken it a little more seriously.”
“Welcome to adulthood,” Vivian said, raising her glass.
Whitney clapped. “Does that mean we can start using Saturday nights to binge-watch stuff? ’Cuz I’m so behind on Orange is the New B
lack.”
Shayler wrinkled her nose. “No. I’m not growing up. I’m, I’m…”
“Maturing,” Gigi finished with a sneer.
Shayler smacked the table. “I’m not.”
“Oh, yeah? Then go make out with the bartender,” Rebecca challenged.
“That sounds vaguely familiar,” Shayler said, hoping Rebecca would step down. Truth was, she flirted with him, but she didn’t actually want him. He was too old, cheesy, and greasy for her. Not even a god-awful dry spell made her want to climb on the bar and plant one on him.
“See? Told you she’s maturing,” Gigi said. “Fun Shayler wouldn’t have even thought about it.”
“Fun Shayler?” she cried. “I am Fun Shayler!”
As her pulse threatened to pound her heart right out of her chest, Shayler jumped out of the booth and stomped up to the bar. Her friends thought she wasn’t fun anymore? She hadn’t even told them she wouldn’t be going out on Fridays.
The bartender was mixing some kind of orange juice cocktail when he glanced up and smiled at Shayler. “Hey. Do you want something?”
“Tom, I apologize in advance because this means literally nothing, but I have a point to prove.” She pulled herself onto the stool and sat on her knees.
“My name’s John.”
“Don’t care,” she said, grabbing his shirt at the shoulder and yanking his face toward her.
He tasted like sweat and pomegranate and barbecue chips, and the combination was more terrible than Gigi’s blended hangover cure—and that had raw eggs and broccoli in it. His lips moved slowly but sloppily. Whenever she would decide to let go, she was sure the bottom half of her face would be drenched in his saliva. But it wasn’t all bad because, at the moment, she wasn’t alone. And she knew if she wanted to, he’d take her back to wherever he lived and end her celibacy curse.
Unfortunately, her stomach churned and her lips begged her to cut the contact. Her point had been proven, and there was no reason to string the poor guy on. She released him with a grin. “Thanks.”
She hopped off the stool and spun around to look at her friends, to wave her arms and cheer and prance around like the free-spirit she was. But her gaze ran right over them, stopping on the two cloudy blue eyes that were watching her. And suddenly, Shayler had another thing to add to her What I’m Most Ashamed Of list.
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