ENEMIES(17)

Back to the blushing. She was full-on red sea star. “You know.” She moved around in her seat, her cheek suddenly pulling in. “The kind who has sex on the first night.”

“How long have you known Trent?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

I wasn’t following. This I wasn’t faking. I said it almost tenderly, “Having sex with someone you have feelings for, no matter how many hours you’ve spent together, isn’t a bad thing.”

She swallowed, shoving upright in her seat. Her hands tightened on the wheel. “It is if he thinks you’re a slut after.”

The question wasn’t if she knew a guy who’d do that. Guys did that. It was a question if she thought Trent would do that.

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty certain, and by certain I mean I’m like 99.8% sure that Trent is completely into you.” I nudged her arm, lightly. “I get the double standards, but if you like sex and you like Trent, then what’s really stopping you? I’ve known relationships that start that way. And honestly, life’s too short to worry about that stuff.”

A gnawing and hollow ache was forming in my chest, rooting and digging deep in there. My words hitting a little close to home.

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.