My eyebrows fall. “Roasted?”
“Yeah.Roasted. As in the coffee shop? Are you ordering or what?” Whoever this woman is, she sounds much too nasal to be Kate.
I meet my friend’s confused expressions with one of my own. “No, I’m not ordering. Thanks.” I end the call.
Tuck sputters a laugh. “You got fake-numbered.”
“No, I didn’t,” I snap. “Must have been an accident.”
His devious smile pulls wider, but he nods. “Yeah, Brando. She must have accidentally typed her own phone number wrong.”
I shove him hard enough to knock him back a few steps.
“Guys. Can’t we act like adults for once?” Julia hisses.
“I’m not the one that gave you a fake number.” Tuck’s pout vanishes into a grin. “Kate did.”
“Shut up, Tuck.” I clench my jaw.
If a girl this hot is equally as crazy, is she really worth the effort?
My mind screams “No,” but a deeper wound isn’t quite ready to let this go. I’ve never had a girl brush me off like this before, and I don’t enjoy the sensation of being left behind. Unwanted. I curse my ghost of a dad—whoever he is—while trying not to resent my mom. She did the best she could.
I glare at Tuck, who is likely never going to let me live this down.
“Gotta go,” I mutter, slinging Julia into a quick hug. “Extra credit thing. I’m about to be late.”
“Bye, Brando.” Tuck tries to fling his own hug around me before I jerk away and storm off. “I love you!” He calls down the sidewalk. “Now say it back.”
I raise a middle finger as I stride away.
KATE
I wrap up a text to Liza as I swing my hips into a desk. The college classroom seats orbit a raised center platform, and my least favorite art professor, Miss Njay, tinkers beside her desk. An involuntary shiver rings throughout my body again. My trek across campus has left me chilled to the bone.
KATE: I need sister time ASAP. Free this weekend?
I hit send on the text as heat radiates over my back. I revel in it, happy to have found a seat so close to the heater. Although it’s still technically November, the weather has decided to forge into an early winter. I shiver, tugging the drawstrings of my baby pink Kappa Alpha Theta hoodie.
Waking up in my private room only served to remind me of how much I hate living alone. Liza’s absence felt like a big fat thundercloud, stabbing lightning into my tear ducts at random.
So, in full sad-girl mode, I threw away any notions of fashion or make-up. My oversized sweatpants are rolled at the hip, my shoes resemble more slipper than sole, and my hair is piled into a reckless messy bun.
Students file inside the classroom, nameless, and I couldn’t care less. I’m not in the business of making friends at the moment. Especially not when my heart feels like the equivalent of a used tissue.
If everything goes according to plan, I’ll have my degree in no time. And hopefully a career I’ll love, even if my parents never will.
A heavy breath leaves my lungs as I pull out my sketchbook. Even though I suck at figure drawing and likely always will, this class was one of the last open electives when I transferred.
Miss Njay yanks out a filing cabinet drawer by her desk. Yes,Miss.Because, hypothetically speaking, if one were to accidentally call herMissus, they’d have a chunk of their soul ripped out and a grade dropped out of spite. She meets my eyes, and hers narrow into slits.
I wave sweetly.
It’s not my fault her marital status is a massive blinking red button that I accidentally pushed once.
Or twice.
Am I playing a precarious, grade-dropping game? Sure am. But something about her cold demeanor screams Vivian Rochester-Chen, and I can’t stand it.
