“Awesome.”
“I’ll text you.”
* * *
I realize she’s ghosting me after four days of silence. I didn’t get to see her in Culture and Music in History, since Taylor canceled the class after the tango debacle. Probably too ashamed to show his face. Or maybe he overslept. Who the hell knows?
I text her, but it goes ignored. If she was like anybody else I’ve dated, I’d assume she was playing a game to try to demonstrate who was in charge of the relationship. But she doesn’t seem like the type to waste energy over such triviality. If she wants to have a little revenge over how I ignored her texts and emails, she’s doing a pretty good job… Although it annoys me that she’s not following through on her promise, as I did when she asked me to go to that pointless class.
Since I know exactly how to find her, I go to the café where she works. But there’s a different barista at the counter today. Some guy who looks vaguely familiar.
“Hey,” he says with a friendly smile. “What can I get you?”
“Actually, I’m here to talk to Aspen. Is she here?”
“Oh. No, she’s off today.”
“Do you know when her next shift is?”
“Tomorrow, maybe? She called in sick for two days in a row, so I don’t know.” He shrugs apologetically.
Okay, so maybe she isn’t ghosting me just for the hell of it. I don’t like hearing that she’s sick. It must be serious for her to miss work. Bet she also missed classes. “I have a project I need to pick up from her. Do you know where she lives?”
He squints and looks off into the distance. “Howell Hall?”
I make a face. That place is a dump. Nobody understands why the college hasn’t demolished it yet. They had a room there on the boys’ floor I could’ve taken, instead of the three-bedroom suite with Heath and Will. I picked the Frat-Stereotypes-R-Us duo rather than a dorm cell. “You sure?”
“No, man. I don’t have Aspen watch.” He shrugs.
So Hovel Hall is my best lead. Maybe somebody in the housing division hates her, just like Taylor. Snotty assholes are everywhere.
I text her before heading out, in case she’s recuperating at a friend’s.
–Me: Heard you’re sick. You okay?
It stays unread, like my other messages.
This doesn’t seem like her. She’s the type to come after someone rather than ignore them like this. If she’s too sick to check her phone, maybe she’s really got something bad. So I shouldn’t go empty-handed. Mom taught me better.
But I’ve never been really sick. A minor cold once in a while doesn’t count.
–Me: What’s something to take to make somebody feel better?
There. My brothers should have some suggestions.
–Noah: An Aston Martin. It never fails to cheer me up.
Most girls would offer to suck me off for an Aston Martin. Aspen? She’d run me over with it once she recovered from whatever’s ailing her.
–Me: No. For someone who’s sick.
–Emmett: Mom’s chicken noodle soup.
Should’ve known. Unlike me and some of our other brothers, Emmett has a normal mother who does motherly things for him.
–Me: Where am I going to get your mom’s chicken noodle soup right now?
–Sebastian: Chef-made isn’t bad, either.
