“You’ve got an early class, too.” Shit. I hadn’t meant to let that slip. I saw her whiteboard in my room the other day when I was grabbing my clothes. It had her schedule scribbled in pink marker, half of it crossed out and rewritten with arrows and stars. It was chaotic and totally her.
Liv’s head tilts. “You snooping through my stuff, roommate?”
I shoot her a look as I stand. “It’s not snooping if it’s in plain view on a whiteboard in fluorescent pen in my bedroom. Hard to miss.”
She raises a brow but doesn’t argue. “Still, kind of bold of you to memorize it.”
“I didn’t memorize it,” I say too fast.
She hums as she stands, brushing off her leggings. “Sure you didn’t.”
I smile, pushing my glasses up my nose. “Come on, before you start accusing me of knowing your star sign, too.”
She grins, but Quinn pulls her into a hug, and the moment breaks. We make our rounds, saying goodnight to the group. Miles salutes us with a glue stick. Hudson makes some crack about not letting Liv take over the entire apartment. A little too late for that, since all her shower stuff is now decorating thebathroom, and her purple blanket is draped over my sofa bed when I’m not sleeping on it. The entire place also smells like her, fresh apples and a hint of vanilla. But I don’t say any of that.
Daphne hands us two Ziploc bags of leftover pizza, like we’re children being sent home from camp, and reminds Liv of the party they’re going to on Friday night.
The front door closes behind us with a thud, and we walk down the quiet hallway side by side. Just as we reach the stairwell, Liv bumps her shoulder lightly into mine.
“Sagittarius,” she says casually.
My gaze flicks over her. “What?”
“In case you needed to know. That’s my star sign.”
Then she starts down the stairs, leaving me with one more thing I know about her, but with no idea what to do about it.
Chapter thirteen
Liv
It’sbeenalong-assweek. I haven’t managed to go for another run, even though Jay’s offered a few times over text. Our schedules have been a little opposite, and most of my evenings have been eaten up by exam prep. I haven’t had the time—or, honestly, the desire—to date again either. Last night, I silenced the app just to stop the notifications.
It’s a good thing my mind is busy with school, because the second I stop, the noise rushes in—the usual stuff… mild existential dread, men with hidden wedding rings and poor agendas, and the fear that maybe I’m just not built for dating anymore.
Back at WSU, I used to thrive on movement, too, weekly Pilates, long runs, anything that filled my spare time. Lately, not so much. But I finally found a Pilates class nearby after weeks of searching, so at least I start that next week.Being busy is good, I tell myself. It has to be.
When Friday finally rolls around, I already know what’s happening. The plan’s been in place since before pizza night—Daphne’s classmate Sophie is hosting something at her off-campus house, and it sounds like exactly what I need.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door. “Liv?” Daph’s voice filters through, followed by the soft creak of it opening. She steps inside and leans against the frame, her high ponytail, black jeans, and cropped sweater that hangs off her shoulder, the effortlessly hot and wholesome combo only Daphne can pull off without trying. “Everything okay?” she asks.
I nod, even though I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at my boots like they might lace themselves.
“You don’t have to come, you know,” she says gently. “If you’re too tired.”
“No, I want to,” I say, a little too quickly. I stand, grabbing my jacket from the back of the chair. “I just... zoned out for a sec.”
She gives me a look, a real Daph special, full of worry and concern for me. “Seriously, we can just chill here if—”
“Absolutely not. You’ve got limited time for parties, so I’m taking advantage. Plus, I need a night to mingle. I just want to drink something and forget my name for a while.”
She smiles, but there’s still something a little wary behind it. “You can drink. I’m playing it safe tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off as I fluff my hair. “Mom-mode activated, I get it.”
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it. “Listen, being hungover with a toddler to look after is some kind of fresh hell I want to avoid. Hudson has practice tomorrow, so it’ll be my ass on the line.”
I reach into my purse and pull out my favorite pink lipstick.
