by H Hunting
“Good. You?” He flops down in the chair next to mine.
“That, sir, is a loaded question.”
“Uh-oh. What new drama has unfolded in the House of Jocks?”
Josiah lives in an apartment off campus with a roommate named Ali who’s in the engineering program and is pretty much always studying at the library or over at his girlfriend’s place.
I give him the pared-down version of events—i.e., me being tired of the bullshit. “I moved into the dorms yesterday.”
His eyes flare. “Brothers still being overprotective, then?”
“Yup.”
“That Kodiak guy still being an ass?”
“Also yup.”
“Dude needs to get a clue. How was your first night in the dorms?”
“My roommate brought a hockey player home and banged him in the living room.”
“Classy. Wait, how do you know it was a hockey player?” His eyes light up. “Did he say things like let me show you my stick-handling skills?”
I snicker. “No, I ran into him in the bathroom this morning. He’s been to my brothers’ parties before.”
Josiah makes a face. “That’s awkward.”
“Truer facts have never been spoken.” I know my roommate’s sex sounds, and I haven’t even met her. I poke his neck. “This looks fresh. Potential relationship material or a hookup?”
“Probably a hookup. He’s still in the this-is-just-a-phase style of thinking.” Josiah rubs the spot and looks away. Obviously there’s more to it, but I don’t want to push. “How’s math going?”
I flip the book shut. “I currently have 48 percent in the class and a big test next week that I’m hoping to pass. But unless I can get a handle on this stuff, there’s no way that’s going to happen.”
“Want me to have a look?”
“Sure.” I pass him the textbook and flip to the review section for the upcoming test. “I have a ton of practice questions, and every single one is wrong.”
He skims through the pages. “I thought when you said you had a math course, you meant actual math, not macroeconomics. I took this last year, so I can probably help you out if you want.”
“Are you sure you have time for that? I’d like to say I’ll pick it up fast, but I probably won’t. Me and numbers have a hate-hate relationship.”
“Yeah. For sure. I need to keep my mind off this.” He taps the hickey. “And helping a friend would be a great distraction.”
I hug his biceps. “I am super willing to be your distraction, but you may regret offering to help me.”
He chuckles. “You can’t be that bad. And I would’ve offered sooner if I’d realized I could actually be of some help.”
“You underestimate me, my friend, and you may very well be glad you didn’t offer sooner.”
We gather our things and head to costume and set design class. Since I’ve already handed in my costume project, I’m working on some of the set design pieces for the fall play. I’m mindlessly painting a brick wall, listening to music, when my professor drops into a crouch beside me.
I pop my earbuds out. “I’m sorry. I was totally lost in my own world.”
“No need to apologize, Lavender. Do you have time to meet with me after class?”
“Uh, sure. Is everything okay?” My mouth is suddenly dry, and I have the urge to wring my hands. I hope I didn’t screw up my costume project. Maybe it’s not as good as I thought.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about. But there’s an opportunity I’d like to discuss with you. It won’t take long, and I think you’ll be pleased.”
At the end of class, Josiah and I make plans to meet later in the afternoon for tutoring, and I let Lacey and Lovey know I have to bail on lunch, but I’ll catch up with them later. My palms are sweaty by the time I reach Professor Martin’s office. I pop a mint and take a deep breath before I knock on her door.
“Lavender, come on in.” She motions to the empty chair beside her desk.
Posters cling to the walls, books line the shelves, and costume pieces hang from a rack in the corner. It’s chaotic and visually overwhelming, but I love it. Kodiak would lose his mind in here. I tell my brain to shut up, because he’s the last person I’d like to think about right now.
I take a seat and clasp my hands in my lap so I don’t do what my mom always calls the “otter rub,” where it looks like I’m trying to warm up my hands by rubbing them over each other incessantly.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering what this is about.”
I nod and manage a quiet yes.
“I wanted to talk to you about your costume project.”
“Oh.” A million worries rain down on me.
She raises a hand. “It’s not bad, Lavender. In fact it’s quite the opposite.”
“Oh. Okay.” Some of the tension drains from my body, and I feel less like a sheet of stiff metal and more like one of those soft, squishy plush pillows.
“You’re a gifted seamstress, Lavender, one of the best students I’ve had. I’m aware you haven’t selected a major yet, but I’m hopeful costume design is something you’re looking to pursue.”
I nod, heart thundering in my chest. “That’s what I was thinking, yes.”
“That’s fantastic to hear.” She shifts in her chair to face me. “I wanted to talk to you about a special opportunity. Usually it’s reserved for senior students, but I felt it might be worth bringing up with you. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we have a connection with a few very exclusive summer internship programs in New York.”
“With off Broadway theaters, right?” My stomach churns at the thought of the bustle and energy of such a huge city.
“That’s correct. With your permission, I’d like to submit your name.”
“For this summer?”
“Yes. It’s highly competitive, but I think it’s worth a shot to at least apply. You’d spend two months in New York City working with some of the best costume designers in the industry. Is that something you might be interested in?”
“Yes,” I blurt. “I’d have to talk to my parents about it, but yes, it’s definitely something I’d be interested in. Can I have a few days to think about it?”
“Of course! The application deadline isn’t until early December, so you have plenty of time to make a decision. I’m aware it’s a lot to consider, so I wanted to give you an opportunity to think it through. There are obviously no guarantees, but I believe you have a great shot. Why don’t you mull it over, and we can talk next week?”
I leave her office feeling equal parts elated and anxious. I consider who I want to talk to first about this. Usually it would be my mom, but I’ve put her through the wringer by moving into the dorms and leaving it up to her to talk to my dad—who I have yet to hear from. Although, it’s only been twenty-four hours. Mom may have made him promise not to call until he’s calmed down about it. That’s my guess, anyway.
I decide my best bet is to let the information settle and make a list of pros and cons before I do anything else. This feels like a sign, though. Opportunities like these don’t come along every day, and I’d be a fool to pass it up, even if the idea of moving to New York on my own makes me feel like hurling.
The meeting with my professor has made me all sweaty, and I decide it might be a good idea to go back to the dorms, grab a quick shower, and change before I meet Josiah for tutoring. My anxiety spikes as I approach my new room.
I stand outside the door for a few seconds, listening for sounds of . . . things I’d rather not interrupt. When all I get is silence, I unlock the door and slowly open it. I’m relieved to find no one fornicating on the couch.
That relief is short-lived, though, because the bathroom door opens and my new roommate appears. As I feared, I have had the misfortune of meeting my roommate before. Even worse, Beth is short for Bethany, and she’s the same girl who came out of Kodiak’s house on the first day of school, bragging about having b
een in his room with him right after he treated me like less than chewed gum. She’s also the one who spilled soup on my leg.
She’s currently wearing a towel on her head. And nothing else.
I keep my eyes on the ceiling as she flounces across the room. “I have a friend coming over in half an hour, so you might want to leave so you don’t end up eavesdropping like you did last night.” Her door closes with a slam.
I stand there for a few shocked seconds before I finally command my feet to move toward my own room.
I have my key ready, but I come to an abrupt halt when I notice my door is covered in Post-it notes. They take up every last inch of space, and each one cites an infraction I’ve committed in the past twenty-four hours—from leaving my toothbrush in the bathroom to eavesdropping on her having sex (they were in the damn common room) to trying to steal her boyfriend this morning by offering him sexual favors.
I have the wherewithal to snap a few photos before I hastily lock myself in my room.
I send them to River and ask if he would mind coming to help me move my stuff back home. I also message Josiah and tell him I need to postpone tutoring and will explain why later.
River arrives twenty minutes later with Maverick and BJ. Bethany peeks her head out, and for half a second her eyes flare with excitement, until she realizes they’re not here to see her.
“Bethany, I’m sure you remember my cousin, BJ, and these are my brothers Maverick and River.”
Bethany rushes over to my bedroom door and frantically peels off the Post-it notes. “It was a joke,” she sputters lamely.
Maverick gives her one of his jovial smiles, but his tone doesn’t match his expression. “You’re blacklisted, sweetheart. I wouldn’t show your face at another party if I were you.”
It takes two trips to carry all my stuff down to the car.
So much for the full dorm experience. At least I tried.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Lav,” River says once we’re headed back to the house.
“No, you’re not,” I reply.
He sighs. “The dorms are full of assholes.”
“The world is full of assholes, River. You can’t protect me from all of them.” Especially the one living in our house.
“I know.” He reaches out and links our pinkies. “But I want to try. And I really am sorry I pushed you into feeling like you had to do this, and that you ended up with that chick as a roommate. We don’t want you to be miserable, and we don’t want you to hate living with us.”
I sigh. “I love you, and if that’s true, maybe we can do a few things differently.”
Age 19 Winter break
MY FIRST THOUGHT is that I shouldn’t be here. It’s too close for comfort. I’m on edge, and not even some of Mav’s grandfather’s edibles are going to help calm me down.
There are also way too many fucking people here. I can deal with a packed arena because there’s a plexiglass barrier separating us. There is no barrier between me and anyone here. I don’t like it—too many unknowns and variables I can’t control. Not to mention, almost everyone is drunk off their asses. I can barely tolerate people when they’re sober, let alone intoxicated and talking nonsense.
But it’s the first day of winter break, and Maverick insisted we throw a party at his parents’ place out on Lake Geneva, since they’re away.
It’s freaking freezing outside, but the hot tub is cranked and packed to the tits—quite literally—with a lot of girls, and there are at least a dozen people out here smoking weed.
Since Mav and I are both on the college hockey team and there are random drug tests, we generally don’t partake. But we have two weeks off, so he’s all over getting fucked up.
Our parents took a spur-of-the-moment, four-day trip to Mexico for some pre-holiday sunshine, which means we have the run of the house with zero in the way of supervision for an entire weekend. Maverick is supposed to be keeping an eye on River and Lavender, who stayed here so they could hang out with their cousins. Instead of ensuring they stay out of trouble, though, Maverick has invited over every person he’s ever met in the area between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. He figures what his parents don’t know won’t hurt them.
I’m already worried about things getting broken, what it’s going to cost to have the place cleaned, and someone posting pictures on the sly and tagging us.
I move out of the way as two girls in bikinis run by, shrieking at a decibel that’s likely to alert every dog in the neighborhood. They cram themselves into the hot tub with the rest of the girls, who keep asking us when we’re joining them.
Hot tubs are a petri dish of bacteria and regrets. Also, Maverick was in the hot tub earlier making out with his girlfriend, so there’s a high probability that his jizz is floating around in there.
“Do you even know half of these people?” I ask.
Maverick shrugs. “Nope. But if it gets out of hand, I’ll just call the police.”
“Some of them are underage,” I remind him.
“Everyone here is legal to drive and legal to vote. The fact that the drinking age doesn’t match those two things doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.”
“Doesn’t actually change the fact that it’s a law, and we’re breaking it dozens of times over.” Not that I particularly care. It’s more that I don’t want Maverick to get himself in trouble over this party. He’s social, and I’m . . . really not. People require energy, and I prefer to put mine into one of two things: hockey and school.
Despite that, here I am. And not because Maverick is my best friend and pretty much forced me.
His younger brother, River, appears out of nowhere. He’s tall, lanky, and hates the entire world—apart from his twin, anyway. And football. He takes a deep haul from a joint.
“Where’d you get that?” Mav tries to grab it from him, but River ducks and spins out of the way.
“Where do you think? I pilfered it from Robbie’s botany experiment.” He motions to the greenhouse at the back of the property, tucked behind a copse of trees and dormant rose bushes. It’s locked up like Fort Knox, so none of the assholes here can get into it, but Mav knows where the key is, and apparently so does River. He sucks in another long drag and blows it in his brother’s face. His gaze slides to me and narrows for the briefest moment before returning to Maverick. “Lav is gonna be here in fifteen minutes.”
“I thought she was at some expo thing with L and L,” Maverick says.
“She was.”
“It’s only ten forty-five. Why are they coming back so early?”
River flicks his joint, ash falling to the deck beside my foot. “Mom and Dad gave her an eleven o’clock curfew.”
“They’re not even here to enforce it.”
River looks at him like he’s the dumbest asshole alive. He’s not; he’s drunk and high, so half his brain cells are asleep. “They track her phone.” The duh is clear in his tone.
That’s not exactly surprising. Lavender is the quintessential good girl, and highly unlikely to get into trouble, but everyone is still highly protective over her.
“Why wouldn’t she leave it at home?” Mav continues. “Then they wouldn’t know.”
River’s lip curls. “Do you honestly want our seventeen-year-old sister staying out until whatever o’clock in the morning without a damn phone?”
“Point taken,” Mav mutters. “You’re responsible for keeping an eye on her.”
“You know this isn’t her scene. Lavender will disappear upstairs, and you won’t see her until tomorrow.” River pulls his phone out of his pocket and frowns, which is the expression he wears about 90 percent of the time. “Oh, shit.”
The front door slams open, and in stumbles a group of girls.
What’s confusing, at first, is the fact that these girls seem to think it’s Halloween. They’re dressed in superhero costumes. And then the reality of who they are registers, and my entire body feels like it’s been dipped in fire and ice at the same time.
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Dawson, one of the defensemen on the school hockey team, whose family lives about twenty minutes from here, inserts himself into our circle and lets out a low whistle. “Since when is this a costume party? You know what? Who cares? Dibs on the Wonder Tits.”
Mav dives in front of River, catching him around the waist when he launches himself at Dawson.
“You touch my sister, and I’ll cut your tongue out of your mouth and replace it with your dick,” River seethes.
“Whoa, whoa, Riv, calm down.” Mav struggles to keep his hold on him.
River might be two years younger, but he’s close to the same height, and he’s starting to fill out.
Dawson laughs nervously. “Sister? Shit, man. Sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You breathe in her direction, and I will knock every single one of your teeth out of your mouth, dickhead.” He elbows Mav in the side. “Let me go, asshole, or I’ll embarrass the shit out of you by kicking your ass.”
Mav shoves him away. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
River takes a deep haul off the joint, flicks the roach at Dawson, and blows the smoke in my face. “She’s died enough deaths over you, Kodiak. Stay away from her.”
“Twinsie!” Lavender stumbles through the open French doors, tripping over the one-inch lip. She nearly goes down, but River scoops her up and sets her on her feet. She hugs him around the waist.
“What the fuck?” River looks down at his sister, her face plastered against his chest. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m fine,” Lavender mumbles into his shirt.
He looks to Lovey and Lacey for an answer. “Is she drunk?”
“We’re so sorry,” they say in unison. “She had Jell-O cups in her bag, one for each of us, but since Lacey and I are vegan, we can’t eat Jell-O, so she ate all three.” Lovey wrings her hands.
“Shiiiittt.” Maverick kneads the back of his neck. “Well, that explains where the Jell-O shooters disappeared to.”
Lovey gives him her best disapproving look. “Jell-O shots are supposed to go in those tiny plastic glasses, not giant pudding-cup containers! How much alcohol was in those?”