I shake my head. We’ve only got a tiny dorm refrigerator in our room, and it’s one that doesn’t have a freezer. Those were a lot more expensive.
“Shit,” he mutters.
“I’m fine,” I say, scooting back a little. “I’ll just elevate it.”
He looks at Deena. “Can you run and get her some ice from food service?”
She looks at the clock. “It’s after nine. It’s closed.”
“Shit.” He steps closer to me, reaches out, and gently touches my ankle. “You need ice.”
“Go back to your party, Lucky. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” His pretty face is all scrunched up. The man looks sincerely concerned, and I’m not going to lie, it makes me feel all warm inside.
“Positive.” That’s a lie. I need ice. My ankle has ballooned, and the color has already changed to a grotesque blueish-purple hue. Heck, I’m not sure it isn’t broken.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Okay.” Turning, he reaches for the doorknob, because that’s just how small our room is. “I’m sure Joe will check on you tomorrow.”
No, he won’t. He’s pissed at me, which in Joe-land means he’ll give me the silent treatment for a while.
A long while.
“Yep. I’m sure he will.” I smile, hoping he’ll leave. “Go have fun.” I wave him off. I need for him to go. I need to cry because, no joke, my anklehurts. “Thanks for bringing me home, Lucky.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Yeah. Bye.”
And poof. He’s gone.
The second the door clicks shut; Deena starts to cackle. “Oh. Em. Gee.You’rea fucking genius.”
“Huh?” I look over at her.
“That guy,” she points at the door, “is totally in love with you. Your idea to let that guy fall on you was pure, goddamn genius.”
“Let him… fall on me? I didn’t—”
“And you gothimto carry you?” Now she’s practically beaming. “Not gonna lie, girl.Thatdude is strong.” With a wink, she adds, “It just proves my point. He’s in love with you.”
“Uh.” I practically scoff. “He’s not.”
“He is.”
“No. He’s not.”
“He is.” She stands, reaching for her towel. Sliding into her shower flip-flops, she says, “I’m gonna take a shower.” Sadly, we don’t have a private bath. We have to share a bathroom with everyone on this floor. As she steps over the threshold into the hall, she turns. “You know, I’m not the smartest person…”
That’s an understatement, but what she lacks in book smarts, she makes up for in other ways.
“…but I’m never wrong about guys.”
“Yeah, you are.” I snicker. “Remember Derek?”
“That doesn’t count. He lied about his preferences.” She leans into the room and whispers. “Mark my words. That guy is into you.”
“No.” I shake my head.
“I’ll bet you one night alone in the room that he’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”
