With how many cookies he always seems to have on hand, I’m not entirely sure how he’s as buff as he is. Maybe they’re protein cookies, or he does a lot of cardio.
Aaand now I’m thinking about how attractive he would look after a run.
I shove the image out of my mind, swiping one of the oatmeal raisin cookies and letting the addictive flavor flood my mouth, before I choke on the bite when my phone beeps with an email.
It’s either a grade notification or an update on where I’m livingtonight.
Dear Residents of Maple Hall,
WMU Residence Life and University Administration is working tirelessly to ensure the safety and security of all displaced students. While a more sustainable solution to the recent event is still in development, we are pleased to announce that WMU is making arrangements for affected residents to stay overnight in the Leblanc Athletic Center. In cooperation with the New Hampshire Emergency Response Department, one cot will be provided for each affected resident.
That doesn’t sound like a proper plan.
“What does it say?” Ian asks.
I tilt my phone toward him, and he leans over to read the email, his soft hair brushing against my cheek and filling my brain with unwelcome, attractive thoughts.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he says, his voice echoing in the vast common room. He furrows his thick, neatly groomed brows and scoffs, shaking his head. “Their solution is to put you on acotin thegym?”
I nod. “Yeah, it sounds like”—shit—“crap, but what else can I do?”
“You’re welcome to stay with me, Cal. Say the word, and we can head to mine.”
Woah, that’s sogenerous, which means there’s no way I can take him up on that. “Thank you, but I shouldn’t impose.”
He lets out a humored huff and bites his tongue in a way that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. “Again, it’s not imposing when someoneoffers, Callum.”
“I don’t want to accept help.”
His face falls a tiny bit, and I don’t have time to think about why. Maybe he’s lonely.
Probably not—he’s got friends.
Shoot, I might have been rude.
“It’s up to you,” he says after a few seconds. “The offer still stands, though, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Sure. And yeah, I appreciate the offer, but I want to take care of myself. It’s, I don’t know, a me thing.”
“Hyper-independence,” he says with a dry smile. “Be careful with that.”
Yeah, the last thing I want is to rely on anyone else. Hyper-independence, if it is what it sounds like, doesn’t seem like the worst thing for me to be.
“Anyway,” I say, “I’ll check out the sleeping arrangements after dinner. They can’t be that bad.”
Ian hesitates for a moment. “Sounds good. Hope it’s decent there.”
It isn’t decent—it’s grim. It’s so freaking grim.
Fluorescent white light washes over the basketball court from above. Camp beds are placed into rows from wall to wall, with only a few feet between each of them. And on said camp beds? One scratchy-looking blanket. No pillow.
I try not to think about how long I might have to sleep here.
There’s a sleeping assignment diagram stuck to the folded bleachers on the far end of the gym, so I head over, backpack in tow, and weave through the grumbling crowd of displaced students as I wait my turn to check.
As soon as I haul myself over and settle into bed 68F, I groan. There’s no mattress and no give, and I’m underneath a stupid light that may as well have been designed to burn my retinas to a crisp. Closing my eyelids doesn’t help at all, like how facing the sun with closed eyes still causes damage.
I can only hope that someone turns the lights off at some point, but right as that optimistic idea enters my head, a disgruntled member of the admin staff mumbles into a microphone and clarifies that no, they can’t do that because ofsecurity risks.
