“You are coming, aren’t you?” she says, shifting her weight while a worried expression settles over her eyes. Rowena extraverts as hard as I introvert and still hasn’t adjusted to my capacity to say no to socialising.
Thanks to her influence, I’ve been far more outgoing since my arrival at Kingswood midway through last year. Something I mostly attribute to her and partly assign to leaving behind the bully who made my life at public school an utter living hell.
“Of course, I’m coming,” I tell her, slinging my arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze while I escort her to my door. “How else would we tempt your latest victim into a threesome?”
“You better not be joking, girl, because I amup for it.”
I am joking. I select the barely-counts-as-a-dress black number she referenced, and lay it on the bed, then spend my entire shower worrying she didn’t pick up those cues.
Still, if the worst that happens is I become the meat in a gorgeous sports star and Rowena sandwich, I should probably count myself as one very lucky girl.
Stepping from the shower cabinet, I avert my eyes from the mirror while towelling myself dry, then walk back over to my bed. My chub rub shorts are in the top drawer and I pull them on, the nude fabric covering over the ladder of scars on the inside of my thighs—the ones too uniform for anyone to mistake them for anything but what they are: self-inflicted.
Not that I’ve taken a blade to myself for ten months. Not since my parents finally relented and let me change schools to move here. Worth the cost, even if the price they extracted in return seems a thousand times too high.
Not that I’m thinking of that. Not at all.
This is my fresh start, and I won’t waste it dwelling on things I can’t change.
When I pull on the dress, the nude shorts hang underneath by an inch. A vague memory suggests I wore it with leggings previously, but a quick hunt doesn’t turn them up and I might have lent them out, I can’t recall.
Pulling it back off, I toss it into the drawer and drag out my trusty sweatpants and hoodie instead. It’s not like I’m aiming to attract anyone right now and I’d rather be warm and comfortable.
“No,” Rowena says with one glance when I walk into the hallway. “Get back in there and change.”
“But I can’t find my leggings.”
She disappears into her room, right next to mine, and returns, handing them across. “Here. Now, no more excuses. Just because you’re not on the pull, doesn’t mean you should broadcast that to the entire party.”
“Why?” I say with a giggle. “Is that going to bring down your reputation?”
“You’re the most exquisite girl I’ve ever seen. Even if you don’t want to hook up, flaunt it and let them know what they’re missing.”
The excessive compliment runs the danger of turning on my blushes. “No one’s going to see me while you’re there and it’s only been ten minutes since my relationship ended.”
She snorts and doesn’t even bother to hide it behind her hand. “Whatever you thought you had with Joseph ended a lot longer ago than that. That boy is grade B for boring.”
I scurry back inside and change again. A quick blow dry of my hair and I’m ready, still pulling at the hem of my little black dress though the leggings cover everything they need to.
When I catch up to Rowena in the common room, I wolf whistle. She’s got a t-shirt belted into a dress; the neckline sliced by a razor into a V that shows off the delicate lace of her black bra.
“Why, thank you,” she says, taking a deep bow that reveals even more of her slender frame. “And you look fantastic. We’ll have every boy in the joint eating out of our hands.”
I hook my arm through hers as we leave the housing block. Tarryn is a day student, and his fancy family home is only two streets from the school, in the same swanky suburb. As we walk, the bright nip of autumn is in the air, along with the piles of leaves choking the gutters.
The richer the suburb, the larger and more established the trees. If we get a downpour, the entire street will flood thanks to the clogged drain but luckily, it’s not forecast.
“Got your phone?”
I wiggle it, then stuff it back in my bra.
“Got condoms?”
My hand pulls one out of my jeans jacket, though god knows how long it’s been in there. If I have the opportunity to use it, I’ll need to check the expiry date.
“And you?” I ask in return.
Rowena flashes her goodies just as Tarryn bowls out of the front door, sprinting along the path, holding an open cup of beer above his head while one of his teammates chases him, doing the same.
