The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(40)

“We land at about four, if you can be there then. And I’ll explain more. Just…just be ready to move things. Lot’s of things,” she says. “Oh, that’s us. I gotta go. See you soon! Miss you!”

And just like that, Paige is back on top.

Miss you? Miss you. She…misses…me.

Line gone.

Again.



Paige



Shit!

That just slipped out. Miss you. I said, “Miss you.” I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone. Maybe my old life. My high school life—the one that was simple and didn’t require planning or plotting or moving in with a dude I met at the grocery store. I f*cking miss you? What the hell.

That last sentence is all I think about the entire flight back to Oklahoma. I’ve been pretending to read a magazine, not wanting to talk to Cass because it’s her fault I called Houston in the first place. She has a scheme cooked up to prank her boyfriend and his brother, and that’s what I need his help with. I’m helping her—Houston is helping me. Cass’s fault.

We get to the dorm, exchanging a few words about her plan, what she needs me to do, but now that we’re back here, I can’t help but let thoughts of Chandra creep back in too. I’m moving tomorrow morning. If I had my way, I’d move everything tonight—before more people are there.

Before Chandra is there.

I wonder if my things have been destroyed or sold? I would have sold her things. In fact, that’s a good idea. If I’m ever in a position, I’m putting her things up on Craigslist—with her phone number!

I let these thoughts of revenge amuse me for the elevator ride upstairs, but then reality slams right back into my face. Rowe, my old roommate, is jumping up and down. I smile, not a fake smile, but a real one—genuine—because Rowe…she’s actually always been good to me. Even when I wasn’t so good to her when we lived together. In a way, I’m kind of glad to have this chance to help her with something, no matter how unimportant it is. Maybe she and I can somehow start over too.

“Okay, so here are their keys,” Rowe says, handing me a ring with hers and another set with a Playboy cover attached to it. I hold the keys up and dangle them in front of my sister.

“These are your boyfriend’s keys,” I deadpan to Cass. Her boyfriend, Ty, is one of those over-the-top guys. I didn’t trust him at first. He’s in a wheelchair, but you don’t even notice because his personality is enormous—arrogant. His arrogance grew on me; maybe I recognize it in myself. Either way, watching him with Cass at my parents’ house when she was suffering last week sold me in his favor.

“Apparently, she was Miss April 2009, and that makes her special,” Cass rolls her eyes.

“I see,” I say, holding the laminated cover photo in front of me. It makes me think about the video floating around of me, and I wonder if maybe I’ll make someone’s key ring some day. Jesus, I hope not!

“Are you sure you’re good with this?” Cass asks as she pushes the elevator button.

“I can handle this,” I say as I pull my jacket from my arms and drop it on top of our suitcase. We came right here, which is good, because my things don’t really have a place to go until Houston shows up anyhow. I kick off my Jimmy Choos too, which for some reason, makes Rowe and Cass laugh.

“What? I’m not lifting in those!” I motion down to my prized shoes, the ones I scored on after-Christmas clearance back home. I’ve wanted Jimmy Choos for years!

Rowe and Cass only giggle more. I blow my hair out of my face and retie the band around my ponytail, trying to ignore them. My back is still to the elevator when it opens, so I don’t notice Houston step off, or the two guys he’s brought with him. Suddenly, though, I’m in his arms. He’s squeezing me tightly, lifting me from the ground, and spinning me.

He’s…he’s happy to see me! Probably because I told him I missed him. And I did. But…not in the spin me around like a ballerina in love kind of way. His arms, though—they do feel…nice.

“Okay, you can put me down now,” I say, purposely not looking up at him. I direct my gaze right to my shoes on the floor. I pick them up as soon as he sets me down, tucking them in my suitcase so they don’t get damaged, or stolen.

“Sorry,” Houston says, and his mouth is grimacing. His friends are both looking at him trying not to laugh. “So,” he breathes out, clapping his hands together once. Back to business. No more whatever that was.

“Hey, I’m Casey. And you must be the hot new roommate,” says one of the guys standing behind Houston. He reaches past him, his build nowhere near as broad or muscular, but he’s tall, and I immediately size him up to make sure he can lift things.

“Hot new roommate, meet Casey, my dumb-ass friend,” Houston says as we shake hands. I can tell he’s annoyed that his friend called me hot, and in a way gave away the fact that Houston probably called me hot, too. I’ve been called hot before, though. This isn’t special. There are lots of other things about me, things that only someone who really understood me would point out. Hot isn’t one of them.

“Dumb-ass Casey, nice to meet you,” I say, for Houston’s benefit. He seems happy when I take the dig at his friend. His smile dimples his cheek, and I…I notice.

“I’m Eli,” the other guy says. This guy’s bigger, strong like Houston. His face is half covered in a beard, and he’s wearing a shirt with a beard on it.