With the apartment in sight, I reach into my coat pocket, searching for the key. I stop in my tracks when my hand comes up empty.
It’s not here.
Panic washes over me, and I search through every pocket, flap, and crevice of my jacket, grasping at nothing but crumpled wrappers and old hair ties. Ignoring the cold, I drop my bag on the ground in front of me, sinking down to my knees to dig through its pockets as well.
Nothing.
I search my jacket again. I search my backpack two more times.
It’s not here.
Heart in my throat, I backtrack to the library, eyes scanning every tile on the floor in the hopes that it slipped free during my walk. No luck. It’s not at my table either, and after checking with the apathetic student working the front desk, I wrack my brain, trying to recall if I left it in my room.
I can’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention, too preoccupied with Ava and her boy toy, which is so unlike me. I’m the person who triple checkseverything.
With no other choice, I head back to the apartment, holding my breath as I knock on the door. The only person thatmightbe home at this hour is Quinn, but when there’s no answer, I’m sure she’s probably at Remy’s.
Shit.
Slumping against the door, I text Quinn first because I’m a coward.
Me:Hey, I’m so sorry, but I think I left my key in my room, and I’m locked out. Are you coming home any time soon?
Once I hit send, I hold my breath, waiting for the appearance of that glorious ellipsis to signal she’s typing. It doesn’t come. Not for a minute. Not for five. Gnawing my bottom lip between my teeth, I suck it up and send the other two the same message.
Surprisingly, it’s not long before Ava responds.
Ava:Nooo but wer at Pike. You can come get mine if you wantt
It takes a moment to dissect her message, and then I stare at the words on my screen in disbelief. She wants me to come toher?At afrat party?Is sheserious?
“Well, fuck,” I mutter, debating my options. Realizing that I have none, I force myself to turn around and head in the direction of fraternity row.
Freezing up at the street corner, I eye the line of party houses with apprehension. I can hear the music blaring, along with laughter and squeals and screams, and I can’t make myself moveany closer. I don’t even know which one is Pi Kappa Alpha, let alone how I’ll find my roommates once I get there.
I check my phone again, hopeful for a text from Quinn.
Nothing.
A cluster of rowdy, drunk guys passes me, and I tense up, warning bells ringing in my ears. Panic clogs my lungs, my chest, my throat, and I stumble back, slipping on a patch of wet pavement and nearly face-planting on the concrete. When I right myself, I turn and start walking toward the Commons, away from the retreating group and frat row altogether.
I try to ignore the familiar burn of tears behind my eyes, but when my breath starts coming in short, sharp pants, I press my hand over my heart, swallowing down a sob?—
“Hey! Hey, Poison Ivy!” calls a booming voice from the opposite direction. “Is that you?”
FOUR
“Who’s that?”comes a separate male voice.
“Ivy! Hey, wait up!”
Against my better judgement, I pause. I shouldn’t, but for some reason I’m not as panicked as I was before. Blinking the tears back and sucking in a breath, I turn to find the force that is my Public Speaking partner loping toward me with a gigantic smile on his handsome face. It’s below freezing, but he’s not wearing a jacket, only a light blue sweatshirt with the Stratus mascot on the front, and I shiver just looking at him.
“I knew it was you! I’d recognize the blonde anywh—hey, what’s wrong?” His brow knits as his eyes roam my face, as always seeing too much. I swallow, fighting the urge to look down at my boots.
“N-nothing,” I mutter and wince. My cheeks warm even though it’s frigid out here, and I try again, attempting to speak like a normal person. “Just a bad night. I’m fine.”
He glances at his friends. “Give me a second, okay?”
