My Best Friend's Ex

by Hazel Kelly

  “Great,” he said. “I’ll leave it to you guys to figure out how she can get it to you.”

  “Do you know what dorm she’s in?”

  “Pritzker,” he said. “Second floor.”

  “And she arrives tomorrow?”

  “Think she’s aiming to hit campus around two.”

  “Cool, Mr. P. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Of course,” he said. “And I know we’ve been over this, but you can call me Dan.”

  I cringed. “I know. Just old habits, ya know?”

  “No worries.”

  I wondered if she’d be happy to see me.

  “I trust you’ll look out for her?” he asked. “She is your sister after all.”

  The comment was like a punch to my already upset gut.

  “I’ll look after her,” I said, wishing he hadn’t called. Wishing I didn’t even know she was coming.

  “Good man,” he said. “I’ll let you go, then. Linda and the gang send their love.”

  I hung up and scrolled through my phone until I reached the last number in my contact list: Zoey.

  I hadn’t seen her since Easter, the last time I went home. She spent the afternoon packing to go to Florida with Piper’s family for spring break. If I closed my eyes, I could still picture the little pink shorts she wore around the house that day.

  Then at dinner, I caught her looking at me so many times I thought I had something on my face.

  But when I went to the bathroom, all I could see was guilt.

  T H R E E

  - Zoey -

  Time stood still when I saw my name on the door of Room 208. It didn’t even matter that my mystery roommate’s name was on the door, too. It was still going to be the most private space I’d ever had, and I was determined to love everything about it.

  I set the box in my arms down and pulled the key from my back pocket. “Should I knock first?” I asked. “In case my roommate’s already in there?”

  Tom lowered the garbage bags of clothes he’d carried up for me and banged on the door so hard I flinched. He could be unpredictable like that, helpful one second and moody the next, as if he were frustrated with me. Or just frustrated period. Or maybe he was just so tall that the air was too thin up there. It was hard to say.

  “Come in,” a pleasant voice called.

  I raised my brows at Tom and turned the doorknob in time for us to avoid a futon with human legs coming down the hall.

  The pretty blonde girl at the end of the narrow room stood up from her desk. “Zoey?”

  “Nina?”

  She smiled, and I adored her instantly.

  I stuck my hand out to greet her, half-paralyzed by her emerald eyes, and before I knew it, she was pulling me into a hug.

  “It’s so great to meet you!” she said, her face lighting up as she stepped back. “I’ve been preparing myself for the worst, so I’m relieved to see you only have one head and that your tongue isn’t forked.”

  “Nina, this is Tom. We went to high school together.” My chest swelled at the idea that I was a college student now. Sure, I knew the novelty would wear off eventually, but it was amazing how something as simple as packing my stuff in boxes and being given a keycard with a built-in meal pass had made me feel so grown up.

  She shook his hand, and his impatient face softened a little, but I was conscious that he still needed to get himself settled in his new digs. Not that I wanted to remind him that his building was on the far side of campus when he’d already complained about it for a full hour in the car.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, edging towards the door.

  “Let me grab the rest of my things before we start blabbing,” I said to Nina as he disappeared into the hall. “I know Tom has other things to do today besides favors for me.”

  She offered to help, but I insisted I didn’t have much stuff and hurried to catch up with Tom’s long strides, dodging plastic cubbies and laundry baskets and tearful parents on the way.

  It was the first time I felt guilty for depriving my parents of a sappy send-off, but I’d always been independent. Besides, between my dad’s business and my mom’s inexhaustible passion for childrearing, they had enough to worry about without extra demands being forced on their attention.

  Still, when I was halfway to Tom’s car, I pulled out my phone and texted my dad so he wouldn’t worry. “Arrived safely. Miss everyone already. Roommate seems nice. Drop you a line when I get settled. Xo Zo”

  “I think we can make it in one trip,” Tom said as he stared into his trunk, his hands on his hips where his T-shirt had come untucked from schlepping my stuff.

  “I’m down for the challenge,” I said, sticking my arms out. “Load me up.”

  He laid a box across my arms, but the weight didn’t faze me until the third one.

  “Have I thanked you enough for letting me hitch a ride?” I asked, peeking over the top box at him.

  “I wouldn’t mind if you thanked me a few more times,” he said. “Maybe over dinner?”

  I was relieved that most of my face was hidden.

  “Not tonight,” he said quickly. “But sometime soon?”

  “Sure,” I said. “That would be nice.”

  His expression lifted as he closed his trunk and redistributed the bags of clothes draped up and down his lanky arms. “It’s a date.”

  I cringed when he turned around, wishing he hadn’t said that. After all, I didn’t like him that way. He was a nice guy, though, so it didn’t seem right to turn him down when he got me to campus safely and wouldn’t even accept money for gas when we stopped on the way.

  Much to my relief, he turned towards the elevator this time, saving me the embarrassment of having an accident on the stairs in my little blue sundress. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best choice of moving uniform, but I was hoping to make a lot of good first impressions day one, so I took the risk.

  “What?” I asked when I felt Tom staring at me in the elevator.

  “Nothing.”

  I squinted at him.

  “I was just thinking about how much I enjoyed spending time with you today.”

  Jesus.

  “I know we didn’t hang out that much in high school, but it would be cool if-”

  “Totally,” I lied, bursting onto the second floor as soon as the elevator doors cracked open.

  It was only my second time down the dingy hall, but it felt homier already, and when I saw that Nina had left the door open a crack, I backed into it with my butt and set the boxes down on my super-generic corner desk.

  “Where do you want this stuff?” Tom asked, his arms draped with bags.

  “Just chuck everything on the bed.”

  Nina was chatting away with someone online, paying us little attention.

  “I’ll let you get on with your day,” I said, hoping he would take the hint, which he did, but not before he went in for a hug.

  I hugged him back and made a wish that he would meet someone he liked better than me, preferably someone who also enjoyed World of Warcraft and lengthy discussions about the future of AI.

  “I’ll ask around about a nice place to eat,” he said, letting me go. “And call you about that dinner.”

  “Sure,” I said. No hard feelings if you forget, though. “Last chance to take some money for gas?”

  “Forget it. It was my pleasure.” He lifted a palm towards Nina, who turned to acknowledge his goodbye with a lift of her chin.

  “Poor guy,” she said as soon as he closed the door.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked, collapsing in my flimsy desk chair and wishing my stuff was already unpacked like hers.

  “Because he’s obviously hung up on you, and he’s clearly not your type. Not that he’s figured that out.”

  I laughed, amused at the idea that she thought she knew me after two minutes. “I don’t think I really have a type.”

  “Everyone has a type,” she said, opening the bottom drawer of her desk. “Bloody Mar
y?”

  My eyes grew wide. “Seriously?”

  “Please don’t tell me you don’t drink.”

  “No, I do,” I said, watching her set out two plastic cups. “I just wasn’t expecting to start twenty minutes after I arrived on campus.”

  “What I’m hearing you say is, of course I wouldn’t make you drink alone, Nina. You are so sweet to share your secret stash.”

  “I suppose it would make the process of unpacking a little less tedious.”

  “You’ll be pleased to know I already tested that theory,” she said, cracking open a can of tomato juice.

  “How’d you get vodka?” I asked, crossing the narrow space between us as she spiked each cup. “You have a fake?”

  “No,” she said, handing me the first official drink of my college career. “But I have a cousin that goes here, Sadie. I’m sure you’ll meet her. She’s a junior.”

  F O U R

  - Logan -

  I should’ve texted Zoey and told her I was going to drop by. That would’ve been the polite thing to do.

  But at the last minute, I changed my mind and decided I wanted to see her face when she saw me, wanted to read her body language.

  What reaction was I hoping for? Anything that let me know we were cool, like a look in her eyes that said she was over the me and Piper thing.

  Because I was. Well, not over it. I was still fucking pissed and sore-hearted, to be frank. But I didn’t want Zoey to look at me and see Piper anymore. The past was the past, and I didn’t want it to keep casting a shadow over the pathetic scrap of a relationship we’d maintained over the years.

  Sometimes I got the sense that she wanted more from me. More time, more attention. But after what her parents did for me, I wouldn’t disrespect them by disrespecting her in the ways I wanted to the first moment I saw her.

  She still had her braces then, which made her smile in this shy way that always left me wanting more. But she was innocent as a duckling, and I knew a Pandora’s box when I saw one… Even when it was disguised as a teenage girl doing nothing more sinister than shooting curious glances my way and sneaking peas to the family dog.

  I remember thinking I would’ve happily eaten out of her hand, too.

  But it was wrong to have those feelings. I didn’t want to be that boy from the wrong side of the tracks that knocks up the innocent daughter of the nice family that took him in and gave him a second chance.

  So I knocked up her best friend instead.

  Not that I planned it that way. And I didn’t only get with Piper so I’d have even more reasons to keep things platonic with Zoey, though our first hookup might’ve been somewhat inspired by that urge.

  It didn’t stay that way, though. I really fucking fell for that girl. Probably even loved her, not that I had enough experience with positive emotions to know for sure. But the pregnancy was an accident.

  I knew neither of us was ready for that. I also knew we were being careless. She knew it, too. But at seventeen, I felt even more invincible than I did horny, which is saying a helluva lot.

  Regardless, if I could go back in time, I’d handle things a lot differently.

  I felt old when I reached the sidewalk outside Zoey’s building. I think it was all the wide-eyed freshmen awkwardly lugging their box fans and turning campus maps and course schedules over in their hands.

  A whiff of freshly cut grass later and my own first day on campus came flooding back to me. I remember how relieved I was to finally be on my own, no longer an imposition on anyone else. Just thinking about that first taste of real freedom still made my mouth water.

  I remember leaning against this same brick building and watching my new world go by, feeling proud of how far I’d come from being that little boy whose parents once told him he was too stupid to learn to read.

  Turns out I wasn’t too stupid. Turns out the only difference between me and every other poor bastard on our condemned cul-de-sac was that all their parents had them practicing three years earlier.

  I never would’ve done that to my kid. I would’ve loved that baby and done right by her. And by Piper, too. It killed me that she ever doubted that.

  I waited my turn behind a bunch of anxious parents near the entrance of Pritzker Hall before stepping up to the fold-out table.

  “How can I help you?” a mousey brunette asked as she pushed her glasses up her nose.

  “I was hoping you could tell me what room Zoey Petersen is in.”

  “We’re not really supposed to give that information out to just anybody.”

  “She’s family, though.” I hated to use that. Hated that it was semantically true.

  “Can I see some ID?”

  Shit. I knew there was some paint on my jeans, but I didn’t think I looked like a murderer. I’d even shaved that morning.

  “Ma’am, this keycard didn’t work AGAIN.” An angry mother leaned over the table and started waving the card in the girl’s face. “Do you have any idea how much this keycard cost me? My daughter can’t even eat if this thing doesn’t work.”

  I couldn’t stand her abusive attitude for one more second and snatched the card from her hand. “I can help you with that,” I said, keeping it out of her reach. “These things can be pretty finicky.”

  The girl behind the table let out the breath she was holding.

  “I already tried everything,” the woman snapped. “This is the second time I’ve had to come back here and-”

  “Mind if I try?” I asked, offering her my most dazzling smile.

  Her expression softened from pissed off to exasperated. “Fine.”

  I extended a palm towards the building. “After you.”

  The woman shot the mousy girl another dirty look before storming off in a huff.

  “Thank you,” the girl behind the table whispered.

  I leaned over and put a hand on the table. “Zoey Petersen?”

  Her lips twitched with regret, but she dropped her eyes to the master list in front of her before raising them back to mine. “Two-oh-eight.”

  “Thanks,” I said, glancing ahead at the angry mother just in time to see her putting her hands on her hips. “One more question?”

  She raised her thick brows.

  “If this thing doesn’t work again, who should I tell this woman to complain to?”

  “Her daughter’s RA,” she said, scanning the sheet once more. “Peta. Stunning Indian girl. Hair down to her butt. Can’t miss her.”

  “Got it,” I said, watching a dad and his son shout at each other as they carried a mini fridge through a flower bed. “Hope things get better for you out here.”

  She nodded gratefully and turned her attention to the next person in line.

  Fortunately, it only took a few minutes to calm the angry mom down, and after helping her learn the art of the idiot-proof keycard, I took a moment to help her find her daughter’s RA because I can’t stand not seeing things through.

  Or maybe I was just putting off finding Zoey. It was a hard to say.

  Either way, I didn’t want to attract attention to myself, so I walked with purpose towards the stairwell and jogged down two floors.

  The second floor smelled different. Like lemon-scented cleaner. It was the first time I realized someone must’ve been cooking something fragrant and foreign upstairs. God, if there was one thing I did not miss about the dorms it was the lack of decent cooking facilities.

  Which got me thinking I should’ve brought Zoey some Easy Mac pouches. That would’ve been a thoughtful, platonic gift. Much better than me showing up empty handed and asking for my mail. Shit.

  I slowed down when I was a few numbers away and took a deep breath, thinking so hard about acting casual that I began to fear I’d come across as anything but.

  And once again, I found myself staring at her name and wishing things weren’t so complicated.

  F I V E

  - Zoey -

  Nina had me laughing so hard into my second Bloody Mary that we almost did
n’t hear the knock at the door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” she asked, sliding her drink behind a picture frame on her desk.

  I shook my head and lowered my drink into one of my desk drawers, which had yet to be subjected to any unpacking.

  “Who is it?” she asked, making her way to the door.

  “I’m looking for Zoey.”

  Every hair on my body stood up when I heard the voice.

  Nina peeked through the peephole. “Quite the fan club you have,” she said over her shoulder before pulling the door open. When she stepped to the side, Logan’s broad frame filled the space where the door had been.

  “Hey stranger,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

  I stood up and smiled. He was even more handsome than the last time I saw him, and when his blue eyes crinkled at me, I couldn’t help but blush. “Logan. What a nice surprise.”

  He ran a hand through his dirty-blond hair, which had grown over the summer.

  “Welcome to the Barnacle Club,” Nina said, bowing slightly.

  Logan looked back and forth between us.

  “We’ve been drinking,” I whispered loudly, pleasantly light on my feet as I went over to give him a hug.

  I rocked onto my toes to hug him, as self-conscious as ever about how much pressure to apply. Too little, and he might question how much I care about him. Too much, and I might never let go. Smelling him so hard was a mistake, too, but I couldn’t help it. The heady scent of his aftershave took me by surprise.

  It smelled different than the cheap stuff the guys at my high school wore, which usually stank like fake tropical fruit and chemically concentrated pepper. But Logan’s aftershave smelled like… being naked on a yacht in the Med. Not that I knew from experience.

  “How did you find me?” I asked when my nostrils had had their fill.

  He shrugged. “Where else would you be besides the Barnacle Club?”

  “Nina,” she said, thrusting her hand between us.

  He shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”