A bit unsettled, Nick followed after him. Theo traversed two flights of stairs to the second floor and strode down a hallway lined with nine identical doors. He stopped in front of one that had a brass number twelve on it, opened it, and waved Nick in.
Nick hadn’t had enough time to form any expectations of what Theo’s room would be like, but even so, it wasn’t what he expected. In many ways, it looked like Nick’s room—from the tall windows to the wood floors—but there were several key differences.
One, it had three beds in it, with one pushed against the far wall. Two, the heavy curtains blotted out all light—Nick’s room was always suffused with sunlight to the point of irritation. And three, if the bed on the left was Theo’s, then he was a complete and utter slob.
“Holy shit,” Nick muttered under his breath as he examined what appeared to be a miniature indoor landfill. The desk was covered in crap: loose papers, books, clothes, empty soda cans, and chip bags.
Without fail, Theo veered to the left. He noticed Nick staring and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I know. I’m not the neatest person.”
“Theo, buddy, you’re not in the vicinity of the neatest person. The neatest person would take you out back and hose you off before agreeing to come near you.”
“I want to be offended, but that was such an artful blend of creativity and rudeness.” Theo took a step, and there was an audible crunch. Probably a potato chip. “Okay, I admit I have a problem.”
“No shit. How did you make this much mess in one week?”
“Okay, I have a big problem. This is one of the reasons I wanted to live on campus this year. I figured my roommates could help keep my messiness in check, and so far it’s been working.”
Nick’s mouth almost popped open. “This is what your room looks like when someone’s keeping you in check?”
“I’m working on it, okay? One day at a time. Stay there on the mainland, and I’ll find my old phone for you.”
Nick had planned to ask Theo for a third time if he was sure he wanted to give up his phone, but now Nick would do anything to help declutter. “So, your roommates aren’t home, I take it? Or are they buried in there somewhere?”
“They’re almost never around.” Theo shoved a pile of garbage off his desk to reveal another pile. “I can’t imagine why.”
An item jumped out at Nick from amidst the wreckage. “Why do you have a disembodied Barbie head glued to a—” he leaned forward and squinted “—gold baseball player?”
Theo chuckled. “We call that Barbzilla.”
“‘We’? As in, you and your roommates?”
“No, Dante, Seb, and me. When we were kids, we were in little league together. We won some local championship and got trophies. After the game, Seb and I were wrestling—I don’t remember why—and we broke his trophy. Crushed its head, actually. Sebastian was pissed, but thanks to a hot glue gun and Dante’s little sister, we were able to fix it. In a manner of speaking.”
Nick eyed the hideous thing. “That explains its existence, I guess, but why is it here? In your dorm? Instead of resting at the bottom of a nuclear reactor, where it can obtain sentience and terrorize the town, as befitting its name?”
“It’s become an inside joke between us. When we were little, whoever owned it was like the ruler of our little group. Over the years, whenever we’ve competed over something, we’ve put Barbzilla up as the prize. Now, it represents our friendship.”
“Who would have thought something so creepy could be so cute.”
“Seb is actually gunning for it as we speak. He wants it bad. No clue why.” Theo wrestled a drawer open and dug through it. “Here we are.” He extracted a sleek smartphone and made his way back.
Nick whistled as Theo handed it over. “This is amazing. Not a scratch on it.”
“You sound surprised.” Theo smiled. “I may be a slob, but I’m careful with my belongings. Unlike you, Cracked Screen McGee. They say people who are careless with their valuables are careless with other’s hearts too.”
“Did you read that in a fortune cookie?” Nick turned the phone over in his hands. Three generations old, and it was nicer than anything he’d ever owned. “Can I really have this?”
Instead of answering, Theo took the phone along with Nick’s old one, popped the backs off, and swapped out Nick’s SIM card. The whole procedure took less than thirty seconds.
When he’d finished, Theo handed the new phone to him. “Do you have an SD card or anything else you want to salvage?”
“No, I’m all set.”
“Excellent.” Theo tossed the broken phone into the overflowing trash can with impressive accuracy. “You should be good to go, then.”
Nick hit the power button, and the phone vibrated to life. “Last chance to at least accept some cash for this. I’m happy to buy it from you.”
“You can pay me back by responding to my texts in the future. If you ever leave me on read without a good reason, the deal’s off.”
When the home screen loaded, Nick imported his contacts and then selected Theo. He typed a short message.
If this is your way of making sure I stay in touch, you could have just asked.
He hit Send. A second later, Theo pulled his own phone out of his pocket, read the text, and laughed. “I know, but this is doubling as my good deed for the year.”
“The whole year? I had no idea you were such a philanthropist.” Nick slid the phone into his jeans. “My roommate and I have plans to head into town later. You wanna come with?”
“I would, but I have a date with three hundred pages of overdue reading. Before you go, though, there was something I wanted to ask you.” Theo glanced up at the ceiling like he was composing his thoughts. Eventually, his eyes wandered back to Nick’s face. “I hate to bring this up. It’s a sensitive subject, and I know all the gossip bothers you. But . . . I was wondering if what everyone’s saying about your parents is true?”
Nick’s heart skipped a beat. Not in a good way. “Was there a segue in there somewhere?”
“Sorry. It’s because you said earlier that you’d be grateful, but you didn’t specify for what. It got me thinking. I don’t listen to gossip, I swear, but if what people are saying is true, I want you to know I’m here if you need to talk. I meant it when I said I want us to be friends.”
There was a part of Nick that was tempted to brush it off—like he always did—but he had to talk about it sometime. All the bad feelings in him were going to fester if he didn’t let them out. And on a less grim note, he liked Theo. He wanted them to be friends too. If opening up would facilitate that, he was willing to give it a shot.
Nick took a breath. “My dad died a little over a year ago. That’s why I transferred here. He was helping me pay for college back at UIC, and after he died, I couldn’t afford it anymore. I had to go wherever would give me the most financial aid, and that was here. I took a year off to ‘deal,’ but I mostly worked, paid off debts, and tried not to think about it.” He laughed, but it sounded as mirthful as warbling trombone notes. “So there you have it, my whole tragic story.”
“Nick, I’m so sorry.” Theo’s tone was sympathetic without sounding pitying, which was good, because Nick was too raw to handle pity right now. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for not asking how Dad died. I hate when people do that. Like it makes any difference. Anyway, it’s ancient history, and I’m a legal adult. I’m expected to take care of myself now, right?”
Theo’s lips twitched up. “Funny. I heard someone else say something similar recently.”
“Who?”
“Sebastian.”
“Oh.” Curiosity burned inside Nick, but he didn’t want to pry, or give Theo the rightful impression that he was interested.
Theo seemed to read his mind regardless. “His folks are alive, for the record. Although, for all the parenting they provide, they might as well not be.”
“Ah.” Nick shifted his weight. “Does
that bother Sebastian?”
Theo gave him an odd look. “Of course it does. They’re his only family, and he’s not a robot. Granted, he certainly tries to act like it doesn’t affect him. It explains a lot of his behavior, in my opinion, but I’ve been told I take my psych degree home with me.”
Nick’s thoughts whirred. “I suppose that would explain a lot.” His hot-and-cold attitude, and his alleged penchant for breaking hearts.
“I’m not saying his situation is the same as yours, but I think Seb and you have more in common than you think.”
It was Nick’s turn to give the odd look. “Why are you telling me this? One second, you’re warning me away from Sebastian, and the next it sounds like you want me to empathize with him. Which is it?”
“Both? I guess I’m trying to look out for Seb and you at the same time, and it’s crossing my wires. Seb’s my best friend. I don’t want him to get hurt. You’re my newest friend. I also don’t want you to get hurt.”
Nick shook his head. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. Sebastian’s the one who—”
Theo held up a hand. “Yeah, I know. I don’t agree with everything he does—especially when it comes to boys and dating and his whole reputation—but he’s a good person who’s been through a lot. I want him to be happy.” Theo’s brow puckered. “Even if it means losing out on something I want.”
At that, Nick took a step back. “Theo . . . you’re not talking about me, are you?”
Laughter burst from Theo, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. “That’s a little self-involved, don’t you think? One boy pays attention to you, and now you think everyone’s in love with you?” His teasing tone took the sting from his words. “No, it’s not like that. There’s this guy I like, and neither of us has made a move.”
“Why not?”
“Well, at the risk of giving his identity away, we’ve been friends forever.”
Nick’s heart stopped cold in his chest. “Is it Sebastian?”
“No! Stop guessing. You’re bad at it.” Theo’s mirth drained away, and he heaved a sigh. “The point is, I don’t want to risk ruining the friendship I have with this guy—who is not Sebastian—and I think he feels the same way. We need to talk about it, but the timing never seems right. Plus, we have a whole group dynamic to think about. It’s complicated. Or at least, we’re making it complicated.” He rolled his eyes. “Boys. Am I right?”
Nick laughed. “Yeah. Since I’m not allowed to ask who he is, can I ask you something else I’ve been dying to know? Something really important?”
Theo looked wary. “Yeah?”
Nick leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “What’s your natural hair color?”
Theo laughed so hard, he fell back a step. “Blond. Like, white blond. My mom cried when I dyed it. I thought she was going to hold a memorial service. Personally, I think the red suits me.”
“I do too.” Nick checked the time. “I should get going. Thanks again for the phone.”
“Use it, please. I’m the mom friend, and I worry when you don’t call.” He winked. “See ya.”
“Bye.”
Closing the door behind him, Nick was about to head to the dining hall when he got his first new text. Deen wanted to know where he was. Instead of responding, Nick flew back to their room. Inside, Deen was awake and sitting up in bed, though he was wrapped in blankets all the way to his chin. He looked like soft-serve ice cream, topped with a black cherry.
Deen freed an arm long enough to wave. “Morning.”
“Morning.” Nick flopped next to Deen on his bed. “Ready for breakfast? And after, are you still down to show me around town?”
“I think so.” Deen yawned. “It’s hard to tell through all the sleep deprivation. When I woke up, I had to convince myself I’m an adult and not a burrito.”
“You’re a burrito with adult filling.” Nick patted where he guessed Deen’s shoulder was under the blankets. “We’re only a week into the semester, and you’re already pushing yourself too hard. What are you going to do when midterms roll around? And then finals week?”
“I’m going to retreat into my cocoon.” Deen scrunched his head down into the sheets until only the top half of his face was visible. “A week later, I’ll either be a beautiful butterfly, or I’ll have failed all my classes.”
“Neither of those options sound all that appealing.”
“What do you have against butterflies?”
“Nothing, but some of them only live for a couple of weeks.”
“Hm.” Deen freed a hand so he could rub his chin. “Finals week or death? Now there’s a tough decision.”
Laughing, Nick got to his feet. “Tell you what, you stay in bed, and I’ll go to the dining hall and get us a to-go box full of waffles. We can eat in here and then head into town when you’re feeling more human.”
“That sounds good. I bet putting on real clothes will help me.” Deen’s eyes darted to his laptop. Nick would have bet money he was wondering if he had time to tool around on the internet and get dressed before Nick got back.
So long as he’s wearing pants when I return.
Nick took his leave and made his way to the dining hall. Without classes to draw people to campus, the grounds were quiet. Once inside his destination, he loaded up a box with waffles, as promised, and started to add sausage and bacon until he remembered Deen was Muslim. Nick had no idea if he ate pork or not.
He stood there for a second, wondering what to do, before he remembered Theo’s gift. He pulled his new phone out of his bag and—balancing his box of waffles in the crook of one elbow—sent Deen a text.
Within a minute, Deen replied. I started eating pork around the time I got a tattoo. I figured if I was going to sin, I should do it thoroughly. I also drink alcohol and take Jesus’s name in vain, though my deity doesn’t care about that last one.
Chuckling, Nick loaded up on breakfast meats and poured syrup into some plastic containers. Then he carefully, carefully transported the small feast back to Powell Hall.
To his immense pleasure, Deen was dressed and sans blankets when he returned. Nick piled onto his bed, and they ate while Deen played viral YouTube videos on his laptop. Nick almost choked on a sausage when a Vine compilation made him laugh mid-bite. It was one of the most normal college interactions Nick had experienced since his last university, and for a beautiful moment, it made him feel like he could really make a life for himself here.
“How do you want to get into town, by the way?” Nick asked when he’d finished eating. “I can look up bus schedules.”
“No need.” Deen licked syrup off his fingers. “There’s one that stops at the front of the university that goes into town every hour on weekends. Or we can take my car.”
“You have a car? Nice.” Nick paused. “We can legit take the bus, though. I don’t want to make you drive.”
“I actually need to. When I get into hard-core study mode, it sits in the student parking garage for weeks at a time. If I don’t take it out every now and then, the battery drains.”
“Let’s do that, then.”
After cleaning up, they walked across campus to the small covered parking garage and found Deen’s car: a newish silver sedan. The drive into town took less than ten minutes. Nick was in charge of the radio, though all he could seem to find was either bubblegum pop or country music. He went with the pop and spent the rest of the drive staring out the window at his new home.
Evanston had its charms, he had to admit. There were clean streets, wholesome family-owned stores, and plenty of green grass everywhere he looked. There were even some tall buildings, though they didn’t scrape the sky so much as stand on tiptoe and swipe at it.
Deen turned onto a street that was lined with shops and found parking. Once he’d cut the engine, he pivoted in his seat to face Nick. “Any idea where you want to start?”
“Hell if I know.” Nick shrugged. “Somewhere that has clothing, preferably. I was sort of relying on your expertis
e.”
“That’s cool with me. What’s your budget?”
Nick gave him a pointed look.
“Right. We’ll start with the thrift shops. But keep in mind, investing in some quality staple pieces can save you money in the long run.”
“You sound like one of those makeover shows.”
“Good. Maybe we can do a montage later and put it on YouTube.”
They got out of the car and strolled down the street until they came upon a consignment shop with a decent selection. Nick chose a couple of T-shirts, some long-sleeve flannels for when it got colder, and a pair of gray Vans yanked from a bin of mismatched shoes. It cost him a whopping eighteen dollars, but he was happy with his choices. Especially the shoes, given that his ratty sneakers were falling apart.
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Deen said as they left, “but I’ll give you points for personal style.”
Nick took a long look at Deen’s shined shoes, fashionable jeans, and dress shirt. “We can’t all rock the night-club-owner aesthetic like you can.”
Deen punched him playfully on the arm. “Let’s try that place next.” He pointed out a small, modern building a block down. It didn’t seem like a thrift store, but Nick trusted Deen’s judgment. He dutifully followed him inside.
As soon as they entered, they were engulfed in the smell of cologne. The interior resembled a miniature department store, complete with shiny tile floors, colorful displays, and clusters of faceless mannequins sporting three-piece suits.
A sharply dressed woman with perfect makeup greeted them. “What are you gentlemen shopping for today?”
Deen hooked a thumb at Nick. “He needs a new wardrobe. Nothing too flashy or expensive. Some nice jeans, a coat for winter, and maybe one semiformal outfit. You know, in case he decides to take me out for a night on the town.” He winked and slung an arm around Nick’s shoulders.
Nick turned bright red and was considering stammering some sort of denial when the salesperson giggled.
“I’m certain we can find you something.” She turned to Nick. “Do you know your size?”
The Academy Page 12
