“Going to Dustin’s family’s house for supper. You?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Probably heading to the courts and playing some ball. Was going to see if you wanted to come.”
Walking backward to the direction I need to go for class, I say, “I’ll hit you up when we’re done, see if you’re still there.”
He nods and gives me a wave as he walks off in the opposite direction.
CHAPTER 5
AVERY MOORE
Sitting on my bed,I stare at all the textbooks scattered across my comforter. Highlighters, pens, and pencils lie next to my thigh, and my laptop sits to my right. To say I’m overwhelmed is an understatement.
The music playing on my phone in the background does nothing to soothe my nerves, either.
When I transferred here, I thought Smithson University would be an easier college. I don’t know why I thought that. Probably because I hadn’t heard the rumors that they pile it on. Literally. My backpack couldn’t fit all the textbooks, and I was forced to carry several in my arms just to walk home.
Sweat was dripping down my back, despite fall’s cooler breeze. I had come in the door, glared at Ivy when she nearly spit out her tea from my frazzled and my out-of-breath state, dropped my books on the bed, and showered.
Now I sit here, in comfortable clothes, staring at what may very well be my death. Death by homework. And the majority of it is due at the beginning of the week. My gosh, this is just one day of classes. I have a whole set of new ones tomorrow and the day after that.
I suppose I should count my blessings that I have a few days to complete them, but with what we’ll be getting tomorrow, I’d bet my last dollar that I’ll have more.
I sigh and flop back on my pillow, my laptop sliding off my lap and onto the highlighters. I’ve never been afraid of homework and studying. I was a bookworm in high school and a bookworm in my last two years of college. Unlike my smart brother, I’ve always had to work hard to get the grades I needed. And because of that and hours of my nose stuck in a book trying to soak up as much as I could, I never gained the social skills to be anything but an introvert.
Neil hated that about me. He was an extrovert through and through. He never understood why I had to try so hard and often held it against me, for reasons I never could fathom. So I had to study to get good grades. That makes me what? A large percentage of the student population?
He never told me, but I get the feeling his grades were horrible and he was projecting his problems onto me.
“Not my problem, anymore,” I tell myself as I stare at the ceiling.
Honestly, I should wash my hands of him. But he was a big part of my life, and then what he said to me, and the things that he did to ultimately break us up for good, were a true hit to the ego and self-esteem.
I swivel my head to my right and glance at myself in the mirror. Even lying down, I can see my curves.
Slowly, I lift my shirt and stare. My jaw flexes, and disgust fills me. It’s a miracle that I got laid, but it was dark, and he couldn’t see anything, and he was probably just as drunk and desperate as I was.
I run my hand over my stomach. I should do something about the weight. If I don’t like it, I should do something about it, right?
My phone’s alarm goes off, and I slide my shirt back into its proper place. I sit up and turn the alarm off with a simple tap of my finger. With one last glance at my homework, I slide off my bed. It’ll have to wait until later. I promised my parents I’d come to dinner tonight, a celebratory meal for having us all together once again.
But we’re all different now. Everything is different. It doesn’t feel the same, and knowing I’m going to have to put a smile on my face when I feel so dark inside is not something I look forward to.
Heading to my closet, I grasp a dark gray sweater that I’m told by Ivy flatters my curves. It pairs well with my black leggings and falls mid-hip. Next, I throw my wet hair up into a messy bun. My parents don’t care what I look like as long as we all get there on time.
My phone chirps, and I head to my bed, pick it up, and read the text.
Dustin
Outside waiting for you.
He’s supposed to give me a ride. There’s nothing wrong with my car, but he insisted we could carpool. It hadn’t been a hardship to agree. I love my brother, and I know the car ride will be filled with a lot of laughter, like usual. And I desperately need a good laugh.
Without a backward glance in the mirror, I head out of my room, down the hall, and into the living room. Normally, Ivy would come with us—she’s considered family now for as long as they’ve been dating—but she had to work at the diner tonight.
I flick off all the lights and my phone chirps again.
Dustin
