by Tijan
I continued, faint even to my own ears, “French angelfish love should be cherished. Indulge while you can still feel those emotions.”
Yes, I was talking about myself.
Yes, I wish I could feel that again.
But yes, I believed in what I said.
You never knew when your time was up. Then what would you do? Die with regrets of not trying something? That’d be worse than dying having tried and been rejected. Who cared about rejection? That stuff was never remembered. But not living, that was remembered till someone’s death bed.
“Live, Sha.” I used his nickname on purpose. “Regret will eat you alive if you don’t.”
She was quiet, then burst out laughing. “Okay. Yeah. Where’d that philosophical side come from? And it’s not for sure that French angelfish mate for life, you know.”
I half grinned. “That’s my side major. Deep thinker here. Didn’t you know? And let’s just go with the analogy, yeah?”
She thought I was half-joking.
I wasn’t.
Chapter Eight
Siobhan and Trent played footsie all night. Literally.
We went to his apartment. Those two started on the couch together, their feet touching, while we watched a movie. Then we moved to their kitchen table with some wine poured and a game of Sequence. They sat across from each other, but the sly looks, flushed faces, and hushed giggling mixed with the constant squirming on their seats told me if they didn’t get it on that night, they were idiots. Or that I’d be in for a looong semester with them.
AJ wasn’t anything like Trent. A dad-bod, more than a dad-bod with a cut-off tee that had ‘Trees are old. Go digital.’ and hair that was sticking up in an almost adorable way, he was my cosigner on how Trent and Siobhan were cute, but verging on the line of being annoying.
I caught him watching them, a slight grin, but a slight grimace at the same time. The two weren’t hiding it anymore, and when I said my goodbyes after two games of Sequences, I was wondering if Siobhan was going to follow my advice and just live. Either way, I figured I’d get a call the next day or an earful on Monday in class.
I was looking forward to both.
Feeling good that I had a friend, at least one, my mood didn’t diminish when I got to the house to find a full party going. The house was busy, literally every room except mine had light streaming from the windows. The backyard light was dimmed, but a group of ten or so was standing around the picnic table. I recognized Mia and heard Nicole laughing as I walked past them, heading to my door.
None of them looked at me.
Well, glancing over, I was wrong. Dent was eyeing me, but his arm was around Nicole’s shoulders and she was half in his lap. One of her legs was thrown over his and her hand was splayed out on his chest. As I watched, his hand slid down around her back, cupping the other side of her hip so he was half-cradling her to him now and his head was bent down to hers.
I just kept going, but as I went down the stairs to my door and unlocked it, I couldn’t help wondering if I’d acted too quickly the other night at the bar? If I should’ve stuck it out, sat with them longer? Nicole technically hadn’t done anything to me. Just Mia and Lisa had been bitches, but Sav and Nicole hadn’t.
Remembering my own advice, I figured what would it hurt? Be nice. Apologize for ditching. I mean, they could laugh at me and do exactly the reasons why I left in the first place, but it wasn’t sitting well with me. Maybe invite them to meet for lunch on campus, or at the very least, a coffee somewhere. Even just sitting and having a coffee at the house together, except the problem is that I didn’t feel comfortable venturing upstairs, and neither of them came down to the basement. I heard Lisa slam her door every now and then, always followed with her stampeding feet up the stairs as if she couldn’t get away from being on the same floor as me fast enough. With her and Mia, I definitely hadn’t acted too harsh or quick, but still, with Sav and Nicole another try was warranted.
Tomorrow. I’d do it tomorrow.
I was determined to tune out the yelling from the room next to me. They must’ve had a pool game going because I kept hearing ‘Eight ball, motherfucker.’ But, making sure my door was locked — I’d even went as far to add an extra chain lock on my door during the week — I turned my fan on full blast. It was a box fan, rivaling ones that could be in a barn (not really, but I liked to pride myself that I’d found a gem like that), but I was fooling myself, I was too jacked up to head to bed.
Opening my laptop, plugging in my headphones, I typed in Texas C&B job classifieds. I’d been putting off finding a job all week, but my bank account was dwindling every day and I’d skipped lunch today to use my money for beer at the Quail. Thank God they had a two dollar tap deal until eight.
Trent and AJ had brought out a charcuterie board of meat, cheese, crackers, and dip back at their place. There were other things on there, along with chips and salsa and yes, I ate to my heart’s content. I knew I had enough money for a couple things of ramen the next day, so I was taking advantage of their excellent hosting skills.
My full belly greatly appreciated it, but yes. Back to the matter at hand.
I needed a job. I couldn’t put it off anymore, so I was searching the classifieds.
There was a lab assistant job, but reading more on it, it looked like it was for a graduate student. No-can-do for me, then. At least, not yet.
I kept going.
A library aide. I’d done that job before, and while I loved books, I knew I’d hate it. I’d gotten a look at the staff in there this week, and they were a whole new level of stuck-up. Serious. Sometimes you ran into that, where they looked down on people who read outside what was considered the greatest literary works of arts like Pride and Prejudice or War and Peace. Don’t get me wrong, those books were amazing, but there were novels and even textbooks outside the ‘literary masterpieces’ that were equally as enjoyable, too.
But that wasn’t a literary battle I wanted to take on, so I kept looking.
Kitchen attendants.
Janitorial staff.
A custodian position.
I wasn’t sure the difference between the last two.
A babysitter/nanny job, but looking more into it…they wanted longer hours than I could promise. And I’d have to be available during my classroom times.
Tech support.
Tech assistant.
Tech internships.
Maybe I was picking the wrong major?
I kept on until between the experience needed and the hours they were asking for, either weekends or evenings, I was down to two positions. A barback or waitressing job at the Quail or I could work concessions at the sporting events.
I clicked on the applications because I’d have to try for both. If I got one of them, I’d be happy. If I got both, I’d be ecstatic. They said their hours were flexible, would ‘work with student schedules’, so I was hoping they weren’t lying like on my room rental details, because as I was filling out the applications, I was completely lying. Yes, I did, in fact, have an iota of job experience. Which was true, somewhat. I’d volunteered for a few bake sales. And yes, the time I bagged for a very short term, like a week, at Stone’s parents’ store before we became enemies might’ve been a lot shorter than I was admitting.
It was for a college position. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be too picky, or I was hoping.
With that task checked off my to-do list, after that, I got ready for bed. Hearing a couple thuds in the wall and loud voices, I opted for falling asleep with my headphones on and my music blasting.
Let’s face it, at this rate I’d be deaf by the end of this semester.
“You worked at Reever’s Market?”
The Quail moved fast, calling me the next day and scheduling a job interview. I was sitting in the empty bar, an hour before it was open and luckily right smack in the break between two of my classes. I had exactly forty minutes for my early lunch, but I used my meal plan to fill up on breakfast for the day so
I could take this interview.
I was allowed one meal per day, which I was now kicking myself. I should be taking advantage of what I was paying for over the weekend, too. I’d forgotten that it was for seven days a week, not five.
Note to self: become one with the freshman.
The guy, he introduced himself as Joe, who had called and met me this morning was bald, with a round face, dimples in his cheeks, and a solid, athletic build. He was maybe five feet nine, but I was emphasizing the solid part. His biceps bulged as he held his notes in his hands as he moved them closer to the tabletop.
“Yes.”
Had they called and checked up on me? I listed the manager as my reference, but I knew that manager wasn’t working there anymore. She’d liked me, said I was a good bagger for the week I’d been there.
Hell. Would she even remember me?
I took the job when I was first starting my teenage work career, and my hours had been low because it was during the time period where it was before you could legally even work. But once I hit sixteen, I got a full-time job at the local nursing home. My skills at turning down beds and collecting laundry had come in handy when my mom had her stint in the hospice facility years later.
“You know that’s the same place that Stone Reeves’ parents own, right?”
Understanding flooded me.
He was almost glaring at me, and I got it then. He thought I was lying, that I put that on purpose. If only he’d known it was the other way around.
I sat up straighter, feeling my entire back and neck muscles tighten. “I wasn’t aware you knew that.”
“He’s a football god here in town. I’m a dude. I’m an athlete, too. You think I wouldn’t know that?” His eyes turned cold and he put his notes down. “Are you lying on the application to get this job?”
I sucked in my breath. The preposterousness of that whole statement.
Lying? Me? Maybe over-exaggerated, but full-out lying… Okay. I did. Well. I bent the truth, a lot. But I had enough truth on my side to murmur and not feel bad about it, “To be honest, I was hoping you wouldn’t know they’re the owners.”
His eyes got dark, then I saw the hope starting to light up.
“I see what you’re thinking, and I have to stop you before you even get started.”
His eyes went flat and his mouth turned down.
“I never met Stone. I know of him, how could you not going to our school together? But he was always in football camps and he was a different year than me.” I was hoping he wouldn’t do the math. Stone got drafted by Texas as soon as he could, which was a year ago. And if this guy was decent with numbers, he’d connect that I was younger than Stone. It wasn’t hard, but I hadn’t put that I was a transfer junior on the application. I pushed on, “And I don’t really know his parents. I gave you the number for my manager. She’s the one I worked with the most. She’d remember me. Stone—” Shit! I caught myself. “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves wouldn’t even remember me, but I did work there.”
He stared at me, long and hard.
I didn’t move. I was afraid if I did, he’d either not buy my story or call my bluff. I didn’t want to deal with the fallout of that, but after another thirty seconds of both of us sitting frozen in place, he nodded and looked back down to his notes.
“Okay. I got ya.”
I exhaled so sharply that I had to quickly suck it right back in. Gah! What would he think then? It’d be obvious I was holding my breath.
He looked back up and I coughed, smoothing a hand over my hair. I was fine here. Nothing to see.
His eyes passed over me, and I was glad to report he’d lost all interest. His tone was even monotone now, “Tell me more about your job experience. Starting with your most current job.”
Well, that was easy. If it was ever a question if I was a good worker or not, I always aced it. Just had to get in the door first, compliments of my over-exaggeration skillz.
Chapter Nine
“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”
The screaming jerked me upright. I’d been awake, lying in bed and reading about population dynamics of Asteroidea. Eavesdropping was bad. So was gossip. Overhearing roommate drama, bad move. I was going anyway. Easing my door open, the basement was dark. Lisa’s door was closed, though that didn’t tell me if she was in the house or not. She was still avoiding me like the plague, but I moved through the game room, closer to the stairs.
“Wyatt! OMG! Don’t!”
It was Mia screaming.
“What is going on?!”
That was Nicole, so she was home, and she was annoyed.
“Nothing. It’s nothing!” Feet stomped over my head, they were coming close to the kitchen doorway.
The basement door must’ve been left open, or I wouldn’t be able to hear so well. Lisa must’ve been up there because no one else would come down here.
“Hey! What the hell.”
“It’s nothing.” A more calmer Wyatt, but he was restraining himself.
I could almost imagine him gritting his teeth.
“It’s not nothing!”
And I could imagine Mia tossing her hair, throwing her hand to her hip.
“My God. Calm down. You guys were fine a minute ago.”
“That was before he—” Silence. I didn’t know what she was doing, but I could hear her huffing. “—started lecturing me on reaching out to Char, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Guys are different. There’s no beef. They all fight and get over it—”
“Not completely,” a low mutter from Wyatt, but still calm. I was giving him props for that. “We compartmentalize more. Will I probably need to see this dude again in the future? If yes, get over it. If no, then throw a punch. Or throw a punch no matter the answer. Sometimes that’s just more fun, but you never know. Some guys lately are weasels—”
“Wyatt!”
“Right. You don’t care about what I’m saying.” He sighed, now I heard his irritation. “What a surprise. Nothing new there.”
“What does that mean?”
And judging by how snippy her tone turned, I could imagine her crossing her arms over her chest. Maybe a defiant tilt of her chin to complete the look?
“Mia.” He was trying to smooth things over, but I heard the creak of a foot above. He was going toward her. His voice was calm, almost too calm. I couldn’t have remained calm like him in that situation. “You are hurt by your friend. Char left you, she left everyone, and all I’m saying—”
“What?! That I’m being a bitch?!”
“Christ’s sake.” He snapped back, “You ARE!”
I heard an audible gasp. Mia’s? Nicole’s? It was the name game.
“Wyatt. Dude. Maybe—”
“No! She’s being a bitch, and instead of picking up the fucking phone and chewing out the friend she should be chewing out, I’ve had to listen to her all fucking week talk shit about someone she doesn’t even know.”
A sick laugh from Mia. “Yeah. Right. I don’t need to know the reject roommate to know a few things about her. She’s—”
My heart sank. She was talking about me. This whole thing was about me. What the hell?
“YOU DON’T KNOW HER!”
My heart picked back up at Wyatt’s roar.
He kept on, “You don’t know her! You have no idea if she’s nice or mean or poor or anything. You have no clue, except it’s obvious she’s quiet because you never know if she’s here and she’s fucking desperate. Why the hell would someone stay in the situation with you and Lisa actively hating her unless she had nowhere else to go.” A pause. “And she’s not heard eighty percent of the bullshit you’ve been spewing about her.”
“WHY IS THIS YOUR PROBLEM?!”
“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT A HATEFUL FUCKING MEAN GIRLFRIEND!”
Wyatt’s stock just skyrocketed to me. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t heard him. But hearing Mia had remained on the Hate New Roommate Train wasn’t a surprise to me. Just confir
med everything I’d been feeling, and to think I almost considered trying again with them.
“She ditched Nicole and the group,” Mia was still trying, but she was losing some of her momentum. “What kind of person does that? I mean, that’s so mean and rude and disrespectful. Nicole didn’t have to invite her at all in the first place.”
“Yeah. You know, it was kind of shitty what she did, but put yourself in her shoes. She told Savannah she had driven across the nation to come here. She told Savannah she didn’t know anyone else in town. You are a bitch to her within two seconds of stepping inside this new place. You’re surrounded by all your friends. She’s alone. She was set up by Char, too, and yeah, that was an insanely bitchy move on Char’s part, but it’s Char. Then, what I hear is that Lisa was a bitch to her. Sorry, but I’d probably ditch, too, because you never know when the tide is going to turn.”
Silence. Total and complete silence.
Then, a hiccupping sob. “I’m not a mean person.”
“No, you’re not, but you’re acting like one.”
“Wyatt,” a soft gasp. I don’t know from who.
“Look, you can hate the girl all you want, but at least make it be for a good reason. You’re hurt and mad at Char. Take it out on Char! That’s the kind of girlfriend I fell in love with, someone who had a problem and took it up with that problem. You can’t take it up with this girl because you know it’s not really about her. And you’re scared to deal with Char. I don’t get why because you know that Char’s gonna wake up and come back crawling and begging to be let back into this house, so you actually have the upper-hand with your old bestie.”
I was firmly team Wyatt here.
“If you want to rip into the new girl, fine. I’m with you, but make sure it’s because she’s done something that deserves it.”
My team allegiance was slipping.
Then the doorbell rang. Followed by a fist pounding against it.
“What the—”
Someone gasped again.
And then I heard my worst nightmare happening in real life, in real time, and I was frozen to stop it.
