1
FALL SEMESTER | SENIOR YEAR
Westbrooke University’sstarting tight end stood at my front door, soaked from head to toe. His jaw was tense, frustration radiating heat from his gaze like the eye of an oven. Nevertheless, the warmth didn’t pierce through my shield. After almost a decade of knowing him, I’ve insulated my walls against his weather changes. Nothing got in or out without my say-so. It was brilliant (for me) and a point of grievous annoyance (for him).
“Did you do it?” I asked, despite his clear success.
David Evans scoffed, mouth parted, and tongue poking the inside of his cheek. I’d bet good money that before knocking on my door, he’d contemplated if today was his last straw. Tried to determine if today was the day he let me win once and for all.
He raked his fingers through his hair, shoving the short brown strands off his forehead. The wrinkle between his brows resembles a well-traveled valley. David’s dark brown eyes looked even more like pits of despair when he was on the verge of giving up. I straightened with a bit of hope, my backbecoming a lightning rod for the endgame. But, unfortunately, the guy wasn’t a quitter.
David held up a shiny dime. “Here’s your year 1915.”
I grabbed it to confirm the impossibility. Even tried to bend in case of fraud. He snorted at the gesture, and I knew that was the most amusement I’d get out of him tonight.
“No way!” I scratched at the metal, and a bit of polish came off the tip of my red nails. Not a metallic speck in sight. It was real. “How long did it take you?”
“Three hours,” he forced through gritted teeth.
A laugh slipped from my lips. “You dived in fountains for three hours? God, David. You’re something else.”
“No diving necessary. I used a net,” he said.
“Oh…smart.” My shoulders sagged. Though I appreciated his ingenuity, I would have preferred his complete dedication to wading. But I hadn’t proposed requirements for this dare, so that was on me. I’d do better next time.
I tilted my head to the side, considering. “Wait, if you used a net, why are you all wet?”
His jaw ticked once again. For a second, I didn’t think he’d tell me the actual reason.
“I…slipped,” David mumbled.
“I knew I should have stayed with you!” I shook my head, mourning the missed opportunity. “That lecture could have waited.”
“Did you at least take notes for me?” He looked like he didn’t want to ask, even though he had been asking since the semester started. In all three years at Westbrooke, my political science track surprisingly hadn’t overlapped with his social work major classes. But in our senior year, my luck had run out. We shared two courses. It seemed like the university’s final attempt to break me.
“You may copy my notes later. Under supervision,of course,” I offered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have meal-prepping to do and a discussion post to write.”
As soon as I tried to close the door, David used his hand to stop it. “I need to shower.”
I snorted, looking him up and down. Tiny puddles pooled underneath his grimy gray sneakers. Patches of dirt stained the hem of his blue jeans. He smelled like chemicals and wet asphalt. “Yes, you do. Who knows what filth’s in a university water fountain?”
He let out a noise that was one part sigh and the other part groan. “Now, Yara. Right. Now.”
I bit back a laugh after realizing what he was asking. His grip on the door loosened, but the desperation in his eyes remained firm.
“There’s no way I’m letting you track water and muck all over our nice rugs.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Haven just cleansed the apartment. And you’re definitely carrying around enough bad karma to undo a day’s worth of goodwill. I mean, coins in fountains are wishes, right? You just stole someone’s wish.”
I didn’t believe in cleansing, karma, or wishes, but the irritation that appeared on David’s face made pretending worth it.
“You were the one who instigated a stolen wish,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement when I frowned at the statement. “So, where does that leave you?”
I shook my head. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to guilt-trip me.”
“Yara,” David’s voice went at least two octaves lower. It was a method he’d fallen back on since realizing it scratched some unknown part of my brain I had no control over. I’d given that sensitive information away years ago, when I’d been too young and naïve to know better.
“Don’t make me beg.” His hand fell from the door. David knew keeping me would no longer require physical effort.
I almost readied myself to give him a taste of his own medicine. But the look in his eyes reminded me of why he’d thought of the net in the first place. It was the same reason he’d panicked whenever his water bottles got mixed up with the other guys on his team. And why he’d done everything he could each year (including camping outside the dean’s office for a night) to ensure he got a coveted single-bedroom on-campus housing. I could be a hard-ass, but I wasn’t heartless. Not completely, at least.
