Little Lies(29)

Merlin nods, but his gaze is trained on the doorway. My attention shifts to his reflection in the window—where I note that his friendly, nice-guy smile has turned smarmy—and then to the hulking figure now standing in the doorway.

Dressed in a school hockey T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans is Kodiak.

I guess it’s not so common a last name.

His hair is still wet, likely because he came from practice. He’s holding a massive apple in his equally massive hand. His gaze shifts from Merlin to me. I can’t imagine what my expression must be—somewhere between disbelief and horror, I’m sure.

His lip twitches, and he grabs the schedule from Merlin. Aside from being freakishly intelligent, Kodiak has a photographic memory. All it will take is thirty seconds with my schedule for him to remember every single course code, date, time, building, and room number.

I sit there, helpless, as he scans it. His lips barely move, but I know the mental trick he’s using to memorize it, likely so he can torment me some more, as seems to be his MO recently, and during the holidays two years ago.

He showed me his true colors then, none of them pretty.

“I don’t usually tutor economics.” His gaze finally lifts to me.

“I’m sure you can manage for an hour a week.” Merlin gives him a wide-eyed what-the-hell look, like he can’t believe Kodiak is passing up the opportunity.

I would like to be flattered, but mostly I’m disgusted, and sadly, not surprised. It’s not my face that gets the attention; it’s my rack.

I flip Kodiak the double bird. “I would rather fuck a cactus than have you tutor me.” I push out of the chair and nearly trip over my backpack in my rush to escape. I nab it from the floor and hurry out of the student services office. As I go, Merlin asks Kodiak what that was about, and Kodiak says something about obsessions.

I loathe him so much.

It looks like I’m going to have to bug River to help me, either that or deal with failing the course.

I go to class, feeling less than awesome about this new development, as well as the fact that Kodiak still has the paper copy of my schedule. I would like to think it doesn’t matter, but he’s proven to derive great pleasure from making my life difficult, and I have a feeling this is only going to help his cause.

After class, I meet up with Lovey and Lacey for lunch in the student cafeteria. I choose to drown my sorrows in coconut-milk ice cream—I’m not above using food as an emotional crutch, but actual ice cream will create more problems since I’m lactose intolerant.

“That’s your lunch?” Lovey asks when I take the seat across from her with my giant sundae. Her plate is full of salad and some kind of vegan casserole. The cafeteria here caters to everyone, so they have great nondairy and plant-based options.

“Don’t judge,” I say through a mouthful of ice cream and cookie bits—those are also vegan. Who knew? The marshmallows and gummy bears, however, are not.

Lacey slides into the seat beside Lovey, her plate almost matching her twin’s. “Ooooh, looks like someone is eating her feelings. What happened?”

“I failed a test.” I pop a mini marshmallow into my mouth. I love them when they’re frozen because they remind me of the Lucky Charms marshmallows.

“Oh no,” they say in unison.

“It gets worse, though.” I stab my spoon into the ice cream, digging out a gummy bear.

Their eyes flare.

“Worse how?” Lacey whispers.

“I went to student services to see about an econ tutor.”

“They didn’t have anyone available?” Lovey asks.

“Oh, they sure did. But it was Kodiak.”

Both of their faces fall. “Oh.”

“And I said I’d rather fuck a cactus than be tutored by him, so obviously I won’t be going back there.”

Lovey choke-coughs on a mouthful of spinach, and Lacey pats her on the back. “Oh my God, did you really say that?”

“Yup.” I’m equal parts mortified and impressed with myself. It was witty, but also highly inappropriate. My mom would probably be proud.

“That’s awesome, but I guess that means he’s still being a jerk.” Lovey props her chin on her fist. “I don’t get it. You guys were so close when you were kids. He would do anything for you.”

I shrug and dig back into my sundae. “People change.”

“I guess,” Lacey agrees.

“Except BJ, he’s always a flirt and a player.” Lovey rolls her eyes, but her cheeks flush. “Anyway, back to this tutor thing. We might know someone who could help.”

“Really?” I perk up. Most of Lovey and Lacey’s friends are really nice.

A bright smile spreads across Lovey’s face, and she claps her hands. “You remember Dylan? You met him at the party at our place?”

I deflate. “Oh, yeah.” The guy I bitched to about Kodiak while I was drunk off cheap coolers.

“Well, he’s majoring in, like, some kind of business program. I don’t really know what it is, but he does all the financial stuff for the fraternity, so I bet he’d help you out.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

She frowns. “Why not? He asked about you after the party.”

It’s my turn to frown. “Really?”