Smiling at Polly and all her energy, I correct her. “Not quite Aaron Carter. Try the song “Sugar, Sugar” by the Archies.” Polly tilts her head at me like most people do when I tell them the song that inspired my name. “My grandma listened to old music when my mom was growing up and because of that song, she always wanted a daughter named Candi,” I rush.
Polly nods her head as she leaves the bathroom and sits on the purple loveseat. “That’s really cool though,” she admits. “I don’t have a cool story for my name. I think my parents pulled it from some baby name book.” We both chuckle awkwardly as I stand in the doorway of the bathroom.
This is what happens when I meet new people. For some reason, I clam up and can’t have a normal conversation with someone without loads of awkward silence. Maybe it’s the fact that I get too into my own head about things, or perhaps it’s the anxiety trickling through my nervous system, but I’m already feeling my cheeks flush pink.
Polly must read my uncomfortable body language and glances around the room. For the most part everything is set up just the way I like it. There’s a clear divide between my mismatched nick-knacks and multicolored bedsheets and Polly’s purple…everything.
She lets out a playful whistle, “You’ve gotten everything unpacked already? You must work fast!” Polly shoves herself off the loveseat and prowls through my extensive book collection.
It’s my pride and joy. All my favorite stories and characters are displayed in all their glory. Books have been and will always be my constant companions. Them and all the book art and figurines of characters that I’ve spent way too much money on.But it fills me with such happiness. There’s something about getting a bookshelfjust rightthat took the longest out of all my unpacking. I almost feel bad for the poor guy who was unlucky enough to grab my book tub.
“Unpacking wasn’t too bad. Those guys that helped carry things up cut down on a lot of the time.” Sitting on my bed, I watch as Polly pulls one of my favorites off the shelf to read the back. “Do they do that often? Help people unload, I mean.”
She snorts, placing the book back in its correct spot. “Oh, yeah. It's a Rosewood tradition. I’m pretty sure that whoever it was that carried your stuff in had no choice in the matter. I’m on the cheerleading squad, and we had to work with the wrestling team in August when all the new freshmen showed up.”
“So, it’s not from the goodness of their hearts?” I ask facetiously.
Polly flops down on her bed. “I’m afraid not,” she sighs. Leaning on her side, she eyes me. “Ok, Candi, since we’re going to be roommates, I need you to understand that you have now earned yourself the role of my best friend.” Her face is completely serious. “It’s in the roommate agreement that was made when you decided to come to Rosewood. I’m afraid it can’t be broken.”
Doing my best to keep a straight face, I nod my head in all seriousness. “Absolutely. You can count on me, Polly.”We stare across the small walkway between us for half a second before we both burst into laughter.
When I decided to transfer to Rosewood from Liberty, I knew I would be getting a roommate. The past two years at Liberty, I had a small room all to myself and I’ve gotten used to being alone. Coming into this, I was unsure that living with someone was going to be a good experience, but it seems that Polly is going to make the next five months so much more exciting.
Chapter Three
Jaxon
Should I really be at a party right now getting drunk off my ass? The correct answer is no, no I should not. Maybe it’s not where I should be, but I sure as hell want to be here. Classes start back up tomorrow, we’re already back at practice for the season, and all extracurricular activities and partying will be out the door. I’ll think of this as my last night of freedom.
Trevor’s parties are always legendary. The small town of Rose Prairie doesn’t have many things for people my age to do on a quiet night like this, and Trevor’s parties have filled that void.
Since Rosewood isn’t a large campus, there aren’t very many off-campus living options. You’re either in the dorms, in on-campus apartments, or you’re on your own. No Greek Row here.
Last year, Trevor and a couple of his buddies got together and rented a house just off campus. He’s a senior on the wrestling team, and he's been going all out on these parties. I remember him saying something about ending his college career with a bang.
They must have an easy-going landlord because they’ve done a lot of shit to this house to make it party worthy. The only lighting in the house are those LED stage lights flashing vivid neon colors against the walls. They’re programmed to the beat of the music too, so the effect is almost dizzying.
Bodies are everywhere and even though it’s January, the doors and windows are open to help cool down the inside of the house.People are dancing to the blaring music, making out in dark corners, and playing drinking games in the kitchen.
Holding my beer over my head, I weave through the tangle of people on the dance floor, heading towards the game room. The dance floor is technically the living room, but Trevor and the guys don’t have any furniture in there, instead choosing to keep their couch in the game room.
Only a handful of people are allowed into this room—they’re real sticklers for exclusivity. Since I’m not in the mood to dance or hook up with any chicks, I pound my fist against the door until someone gets off their ass to let me in.
After several rounds of knocking my fist against the door, someone finally comes to my aid. “Thank fuck, I’ve been waiting forever out here.” Trevor’s roommate and fellow baseball player Gavin stands back just far enough for me to slip past him and into the much quieter room.
“Calm your tits, Jax. It’s fucking loud here tonight.” Trevor is leaning back in a recliner downing a beer. He likes for his place to be party central, but the dude hates parties. He’d rather hole up in here with his buddies and a beer than be out in the crowd.
Walking over, I give him a quick hand slap before plopping down on the couch and chugging my beer. Trevor’s other roommates, Trace and Julian, are playing Xbox sitting in front of the tv on bean bag chairs bickering back and forth.
“Didn’t think you’d be here tonight, Jax. Being the coach’s golden boy and all.” Gavin sits on the other end of the couch lounging while watching the video game on the screen.
I’d argue with him, but he’s right. Coach Hicks does seem to have a hard-on for me. As the first baseman and captain of the Rosewood Thorns or as we lovingly call ourselves, Pricks, Coach has put a lot of responsibility on me to lead by example this season. I don’t want to disappoint him or the team, but sometimes a guy has to let loose. There’s nothing I take moreseriously than baseball, and once the first game of the season hits, I’ll be all business once more.
“Shit man,” I exhale and lean further back into the couch swallowing another mouthful of beer. “Don’t remind me. I’m here to run from my responsibilities, not think about them.”
The guys don’t bother me as I sit back and drink my beer, simply happy to be out of my dorm room and able to relax. We work to slowly empty the cooler stashed next to the recliner and when I hit the bottom and find no more beers, I head for the door. “Be right back.” The guys couldn’t give two shits whether I came back or not.
The blaring music blasts into me as I, once again, travel through people to get more beer. Since it’s gotten late and classes do start back up tomorrow, it looks like many people cut the night short, most likely due to early morning lectures.
