He grins, leaning forward. “You bring it out in me.” I give him a look as if to say,yeah, right.“As we just discussed, I was born a people person. I’ll talk to anyone about anything. But giving a speech? Yeah, trust me. I’m going to go up there and fuck it up like everyone else in this room. Why do you think I put it off for so long?”
“I’ll do more than fuck it up,” I say. “I’ll throw up. Or pass out. Or throw up and then pass out, and someone will film it and put it online and it will go viral, and my life will be over.”
“You just need practice. And a practice buddy.” He raises his eyebrows, as if to say,I’m your guy.
My heart rate spikes. Is he seriously asking to practice our speechesoutsideof class? Despite the earnest expression he wears, those warning bells go off again. “Um, I-I don’t?—”
He holds up a hand. “Think about it. No rush. We haven’t even picked our topics yet.” I don’t respond, too busy trying to remember how to breathe, so he asks the final question. “Okay, last one. What wise words of advice would you give?”
“Be careful who you trust,” I say quietly, averting my gaze so he won’t think I’m talking about him. I’m not. At least, not specifically. Maybe in the grander sense of the entire male population.
When I finally look back at him, a smile plays at his mouth, and he’s regarding me curiously again, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “Poison Ivy strikes again with that cryptic messaging. You should write fortune cookies in your free time.”
I shrug a shoulder. “What’s yours?”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover has always been one of my favorites.”
I can see why. He’s not at all what I expected…if the friendly, good guy act is to be believed, that is.
Be careful who you trust.
Now that we’ve completed all the questions, I’m happy to sit here in silence and begin work on our outlines. Wes has other ideas. “So, what are you up to this weekend?”
I glance up at him, my pulse quickening at the unnecessary small talk. I open my mouth, but the question gets trapped behind my teeth, and my cheeks warm. I clear my throat before trying again, hoping he didn’t notice. “Why?”
His dark eyes glimmer like he’s amused by my wariness. “I’m curious.”But why?I want to ask again, half suspicious, half confused. He must read the question on my face because he speaks before I can. “So, I’m allowed to know all of your deep, personal struggles but not something as simple as your weekend plans?”
I can’t deny that he’s got a point—most of the questions on Markham’s list were kind of invasive—but it doesn’t matter. I’m a loser who has no plans to share except for homework…not that I care about impressing this guy with a sprawling social calendar.
Sure, you don’t.
“Binge-drinking,” I mumble, looking back down at my laptop because the weight of his gaze is too heavy and I’m starting to feel a little unbalanced. “Maybe throw some hard drugs in there, too.”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, when you’re already that far down the rabbit hole, why not?” I nod, still staring at the screen but not really registering it. Wes leans across the desk, the wood creaking with the weight of his body, and I have no choice but tolook up at him again. “No offense, Poison Ivy, but you don’t seem like a big party person.”
He doesn’t say it like an insult, but it stings like one, nonetheless. What I wouldn’t give sometimes to fit in with my roommates.
Before I can formulate a decent response, Markham claps, drawing our focus to the front of the room. “Alright, folks,” he says. “Looks like all of you have wrapped up your questioning. Homework is to organize the info into an informative outline, due Tuesday. Let’s move the desks back to their rightful places, and I’ll give you a fascinating lecture about introductions and attention grabbers.”
I spend the rest of the time taking notes, and when we’re dismissed, I stand, conscious of Wes’s struggle to extract himself from the flimsy desk as I tug on my coat. When he finally succeeds, tucking his pencil behind his ear and grabbing his notebook and thermos, I wonder about his lack of jacket. I don’t care how big you are. No way that sweatshirt is warm enough in this weather.
“See you Tuesday, Poison Ivy,” he says, dragging my eyes up to his smile. My face heats as I realize I was staring thoughtlessly at his broad chest. “And good luck with that binge-drinking. Remember, hydration is key. Oh, and stay away from second-story windows. I have a friend who once fell off a roof into a rose bush after a day of pounding Four Lokos. He had thorns in places you can’t even imagine.”
I almost laugh, but it gets stuck in the back of my throat, the way they sometimes do. My chest compresses, and my face turns redder as I clamp my lips shut, nodding like an idiot instead. I turn away before he has a chance to look at me like a freak, pretending to fiddle with the zipper on my backpack as his footsteps recede.
It’s only when I’m left alone that a strange thought pops into my head.
I can’t remember the last time I felt the urge to laugh.
It’slate by the time I close my math book, and I reach my arms above my head, stretching out my cramping limbs. I haven’t quite worked up the courage to venture back to the library after my run-in with Alexis, so I spent the rest of Thursday cooped up in my room, shoulders hunched over the college-issued desk that’s the furthest thing from ergonomic.
Gathering my towel for a shower, I head for the bathroom I share with my ghost-of-a-dormmate, Quinn. I’m reaching for the doorknob when it turns, making me jump back in surprise. “Oh my god,” I breathe as the door swings open. “I’m so sorry.”
Quinn smiles at me from where she stands in the doorway. With her shaggy, ash-blonde hair, tattoos, and abundance of silver jewelry, she’s always reminded me of the wordconfidenceincarnated. “Weren’t expecting me to be here, were you?”
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“Had to stock up on clothes before heading back to Remy’s,” she explains, referring to her boyfriend.Remy.I file the name away, so I won’t forget it. “Sorry I haven’t been around much. How have the other girls been?”
