I release a deep breath and fall onto my bed. I really should do my bedtime cleansing routine. And I have to study. I groan loudly. Sometimes I wish I could make myself not care about anything. It would be so completely wonderful to just not give a shit. I don’t know how Chase does it. I don’t allow myself to envy him for too long, though. Chase is going nowhere fast and I shouldn’t admire that.
I push myself back up and grab my basket. It has everything a girl could ever need to beautify herself. If I was ever asked the question: If you were stranded on an island and could only bring three items, what would they be? This basket would be my number one.
I think a lot about questions like that. The “what if” questions. What would I do if there were a fire? Tornado? Flood? Mugging? I even contemplate the less likely what ifs. What if a zombie apocalypse took place tomorrow? World War III? Nuclear explosion? Sometimes I spend so much time on those questions that I wish I could just shut my brain off. Because I’m always trying to improve my answers. Always trying to identify what problems could arise and adjust my answers accordingly. It’s a curse. But if the world ever suffered a zombie attack, I think I’d outlive most of the people on this campus. Just saying.
After completing my nightly facial ritual, I drop onto my bed, and crack open my notes. I study every night. Every night. I don’t know how not to. I also try to study during any free time I find throughout the day. But I refuse to be like those girls who do nothing but stare at books. I make sure to include time for social interactions. How else will I find my future husband?
The door opens, causing me to jump and my heart to stop beating for one startled moment. My roommate, Gretchen, tosses her messenger bag onto the desk without a glance in my direction before retreating right back out the door. Music starts up in the common room and I ignore it.
Gretchen is Chinese, and the exact opposite of every Asian stereotype I have ever heard. She’s barely passing her classes and she couldn’t care less. On top of that, she’s extremely unmotivated—unless it comes to partying. And the way she dresses, with her band tee shirts and pink streaked hair… She reminds me of Hope in a lot of ways. Something I thought would be comforting, but Gretchen despises me, so not so much.
She bursts back into our room and tugs her shirt over her head. She throws the shirt in the direction of the clothes hamper in the corner, but it falls short by several feet. And she leaves it there. Did I mention that Gretchen is also messy? Because she is.
I try to concentrate on my notebook as she fishes through her drawers. I pull my legs up, blocking her from my sight and reread the sentence I’ve already read several times.
“I have some people over,” Gretchen says.
I look up at her with a blank expression. I don’t know what she wants me to say to that. She has people over all the time—when she’s actually here.
She rolls her eyes as she pulls a tank top over her head. “I like one of them and if things go well, I’ll need the room.”
Gretchen can be kind of rude, too.
“Go to his place,” I say, not masking the irritation in my voice. I’m not a prude. Not by a long shot. I happen to see nothing wrong with sexual exploration and have no expectations when it comes to others. But this is my room, too. And I would never try to kick her out just to hook up with some guy. I find that ridiculously unreasonable on her part to even consider the idea.
“He doesn’t have a place,” she replies, her tone now matching mine. “He’s visiting his brother for the weekend.”
“So you don’t even know him?” I know I’m being judgmental, something I should probably work on, but she’s getting on my nerves. I don’t like when people mess with my routine.
“Actually,” she says slowly, obviously trying to control her anger, “I’ve known him and his brother for years. Not that it’s any of your business, but we all went to school together.” She narrows her eyes as she picks up her iPod. “It’s not like you’re doing anything. And I never ask anything of you.”
This is true. Her not asking anything of me, I mean. But that’s because she never speaks to me. But I am doing something. “I’m studying.”
“You can skip studying for one night.”
I grimace and Gretchen rolls her eyes again. “You can study somewhere else,” she amends. “Don’t you have any friends that can put up with you for one night?”
That stings. The truth is I don’t have any friends that I would feel right about showing up at their door this late at night and asking to crash with them.
But I don’t give her the satisfaction of telling her this. I snap my notebook closed and sit up. “Fine. But you owe me.”
She snorts and crosses the room, heading out the door without another word.
I guess I’m having a sleepover with Guy. Yay.
~*~
I twist the strap of my overnight bag as I knock. Music filters through the door and I hope they heard me. I also hope they aren’t having a party, too. I can handle the music—I spent the last four years of my life with Guy, Chase, and Park who are all about music. And then when my foster sister, Hope, came to live with us, they started their band and the house was always full of guitar riffs and drumbeats. It’s just background noise to me now. But I didn’t reapply my full make-up, just the basics, because I was anticipating studying in a corner and going to bed shortly. A party means people. People mean I need to make myself more presentable.
I blink in surprise as the door opens and I’m met with darkness. Guy steps into the light streaming in behind me. He squints at my face before pulling me inside and closing the door quickly.
“Hide and Seek in the dark,” he whispers. “Chase is it.” He pushes me forward and then I have no idea where he is. Or where I am.
I’m frozen in place, blinded by the complete lack of light. I wait, hoping my eyes will adjust, but as the seconds tick by, I realize that’s not going to happen. This isn’t my first game of Hide and Seek in the dark. We used to play in the basement back home. It was Mom and Alec’s way of getting us to clean up. I quit playing years ago since I hate losing, but I’m well acquainted with the rules.
I slide one foot then the other, moving slowly in the direction I think the couch is in. When my shins hit cushion, I smile and drop my bag. Now I just need to find a good place to wait this out.
I turn around and slam into a hard chest. Hands slide up my arms and then back down. “What the fuck?” Chase says. His hands keep roaming and as they slip onto my sides, fingers pressing into my ribcage, I shove him back.
I hear his quick intake of breath, followed by the scuffle of feet over carpeting, and finally the loud crash of breaking glass.
Oh, my God.
I didn’t mean to do all that.
4
Hands Open
Chase
I’m dumbfounded for several seconds, my brain trying to put together what the hell just happened. I close my eyes against the harshness of the overhead lights as they flicker on. And then the pain sets in.
I let out a long breath, groaning as I open one eye. “What the hell?”
“You all right, man?” Guy asks, offering me his hand. I take it and let him pull me up. Annie’s standing perfectly still, her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.
“What the fuck just happened?” Park asks as he storms around the corner. He pauses, his gaze shifting from me, to the broken table on the floor, and then to Guy. “What the fuck happened?” he repeats.
Guy and I both look at Annie and she drops her hands. “It was his fault,” she insists.
I raise my eyebrows and my jaw works as I grind my teeth. “How about, ‘I’m sorry, Chase’? Or maybe, ‘Are you okay, Chase?’ Anything?”
She straightens her back and crosses her arms defensively. “You were touching me.”
I shake my head and throw my arms out at my sides. “It’s Hide and Seek in the dark. I can’t see. I have to touch.”
“You were about to touch things you have no right to
touch,” she hisses. Park chuckles and I glare at him for a second before turning back to Annie.
“Trust me, you have nothing I’m interested in.”
Not true. She has plenty I’m interested in, but if she ever knew that, she’d use it against me every chance she got. Not to mention, Guy would probably kick my ass.
Annie’s cheeks blush pink. She glances away, focusing on the wall. “I didn’t mean to push you. I was just trying to stop you before your hands got too high.”
I’m not pissed off because she pushed me. I was about to feel her up—not because I’m some asshole pervert…okay, maybe I am a pervert—what guy isn’t?—but in this case, I did that because I was confused as to who the hell was in the room. It was a gut reaction on her part. But: “When most people do something they didn’t mean to do, they still apologize.”
She looks at me, confusion crinkling her brows. “I did.”
I lick my lips slowly as I take a long breath through my nose. And then I release it on a dry laugh. “No, you didn’t.” God she is frustrating.
Guy picks glass off my shoulder and examines it. “I always hated this table.”
“Clean that shit up,” Park says before retreating back to his room.
“You guys should’ve moved the table before you started the game,” Annie says suddenly. She’s searching for any possible way to cast blame on somebody other than herself, which drives me insane, but she’s right. We should’ve moved it. Still doesn’t take away from the fact that she can’t just tell me she’s sorry.
“Why are you here?”
Annie’s body tenses in response to my question, her face flaming. “Gretchen wanted the room. I need a place to stay tonight.”
She’s embarrassed, but I’m not sure why. The way she can’t look at me or Guy makes me feel like shit. And now I’m wondering how I ended up feeling like an ass when she’s the one that pushed me into a table.
“She can have my bed,” Park says as he glides past us. “I don’t plan on coming home tonight.” He slams the door after him and Annie sighs. She picks up her bag and starts for the room Guy shares with Park.
“Where are you going?” I ask incredulously.
“To study?”
I open the closet door and pull out the broom and dust pan, holding it out to her. “I didn’t break it by myself. I’m not cleaning it by myself.”
Letting her bag fall from her shoulder, she yanks the broom from my hand. “Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeat.
Guy brushes the hair out of his eyes and settles onto the couch. He lifts his feet to rest them on the table that is no longer there and then drops them quickly with a chuckle.
~*~
The co-ed building is setup with three bedrooms, one common area, and one bathroom to a dorm room. Though the building is co-ed, the dorm rooms themselves are not, but nobody ever cares when a girl stays. Nobody except my roommate, Pauly.
I waited too long to make the college decision. By the time I made up my mind to enroll, Guy and Park had already requested to room with each other. Even though we all ended up in the same dorm room, I got stuck with Pauly for a roommate.
You know those super annoying, know-it-all types? Those guys that look down on everybody that’s different from them for no other reason than they’re different from them?
That’s Pauly.
I think it’s a pretty accurate assumption that he hates everybody. Like all people. All the time.
As soon as he comes home and lays eyes on Annie in her pajama pants, studying on the couch, I know he’s going to start shit. In a preemptive attempt to keep the peace, I try to distract him by being nice.
“Hey, Pauly, how’s it going, man?”
“Don’t call me Pauly.” He looks from Annie to me, as he lifts his hand to toss his keys on the table that isn’t there. It’s going to take some getting used to.
“Where’s the table?”
“Yeah, uh, it broke.”
“Did you let the RA know?”
Did I also mention that Pauly likes rules? In fact, he likes rules so much, he follows them. All of them. Even the stupid ones. Whereas I don’t give a shit about rules, per se.
It must be hell for Pauly to room with me.
“I’m right on top of that, chief.” I salute him with two fingers and Annie makes a garbled noise beside me, regaining Pauly’s attention. I’m not sure, but I think she may have laughed. Or tried not to. Either way, it doesn’t matter because now he’s not only reminded of her presence, but pissed she was laughing (or trying not to laugh) at his expense.
Well, I tried to keep peace—poorly, I’ll admit—but I did try.
“It’s after midnight,” he announces. “Your friend can’t stay.”
“Who?” I ask. “Her?” I point at Annie. “She ain’t my friend.” I see Annie squirm out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know if it’s because I claim she’s not my friend or if it’s from my use of “ain’t.”
Pauly looks at Guy expectantly. “What? She’s not my friend, either,” he says.
“I have no idea why you guys are both such assholes to me,” Annie states.
“Technically,” Guy begins, “you’re not my friend. You’re my step-sister.”
I laugh and Annie kicks my leg. “Just because I’m your step-sister—”
“Evil step-sister.”
She glares at me before continuing. “Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“I think it’s more that you’re a bitch than the whole step-siblings thing,” I say with a grin.
Pauly’s head swings back and forth, trying to follow our dumbass conversation.
“Maybe I wouldn’t need to be such a bitch if you were nicer to me,” Annie states slowly.
“Maybe we’d be nicer to you if you weren’t such a bitch,” I retort. “Break the cycle, Annie.”
“I want to break your neck right now, Chase.”
“You couldn’t break an insect’s neck.”
“What’s happening?” Pauly asks.
“I could break an insect’s neck and shove it up your ass.”
“You want to shove things up my ass?” I wiggle my brows. “I didn’t know you were so kinky.”
“There’s plenty you don’t know about me,” Annie says coolly.
“Thank God for small favors,” I reply.
“Speaking of small favors…” Her eyes flick down to my pants, then back up to my face.
And then I lose because I laugh. But it’s not a total loss since Pauly gave up and retreated to our room at the first mention of the word kinky.
“You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy or I’d show you just how un-small my favor is.”
“Nice, my ass,” Annie snorts.
“What about your nice ass?”
“You’re getting on my nerves,” Guy sighs. “I’m going to bed.”
“He means you,” I whisper, wiggling my finger in front of her face. She smacks my hand away. I flip my wrist, showing her my middle finger.
“It’s your finger, you fuck it.”
“I’m not that hard up.”
She smirks as her eyes rake over me. “Your impotence issues are no concern of mine.” She gets up, trailing after Guy and my eyes follow, hypnotized by the swing of her hips.
Damn.
Not only did Annie get the last word, but she bested me on insults. Sans water boarding, I’d never willingly say this aloud, but I actually like Annie’s bitchy attitude. When I get her angry, that’s when she’s the most fun.
5
The Descent
Annie
Something most people don’t know about me is I have a mild form of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Self-diagnosed.
Everything has a place. Organization is key. If you can’t keep your belongings in order, then how can you manage your life? Seriously think about that for a moment. Chaos breeds chaos.
There is a wrong way to do a task, and then there’s a right way—my way. And it bothers me whe
n people don’t perform a task in the way I would. Bother may not be the correct word, either. It’s like watching someone purposely walk into a burning building for absolutely no reason. My heart races and I get slightly panicky. I want to stop them. Help them. Save them. And when they ignore my offered corrective criticism, it gets worse. In which case it usually ends with me acting in such a way that I get called a bitch.
I try not to think too hard about this as I make the bed. I had the worst time sleeping last night. It may have been the fact I was in Park’s bed, and not that I’m judging, but the boy has turned into a man-whore since school started. Or maybe my sleepless night had more to do with sleeping across from my snoring step-brother. Either way, I stepped off the cranky side of my borrowed bed this morning.
Picking up my bag, I slip out the door, careful not to wake Guy. I got up early partially because I couldn’t sleep anyway, but mostly so I could get into the shared bathroom before the other guys in the dorm room wake up. Showering while some random guy relieves himself in the urinal across the room is something I’m not real comfortable with. And yes, I could go back to my own dorm and take a shower there, but I never let people see me without my hair and make-up being done.
I set my playlist and hop into the shower. It’s the same set of songs I listen to every morning. I chose them purposely for the fast paced beat and easy-to-sing-along-to lyrics.
I have a playlist full of inspirational songs that I work out to. And one that’s specifically for when I take the next step in a relationship. A good make-out playlist is a must.
I’ve just rinsed the shampoo from my hair when my music abruptly stops mid-song. I’m habitual when it comes to charging my electronics—you never know when there might be a power outage—so I’m almost positive it had a full battery.
Long After (Sometimes Never) Page 2
