“Funny how you fail to mention that I was running into a burning building,” Greta tells her. “I was young and reckless, so I tried getting back to work immediately and this little fireball strapped me to a stretcher and threatened to make me talk about my feelings if I didn’t stay put.”
“And now we’re here,” Sandra continues. “Two old ladies back in school to pursue degrees in—”
“Marriage counseling,” Greta supplies.
Oh god. They must be able to see right through us.
Sandra foists her Tupperware on me. “Skillet brownies,” she says. “We made them in the common’s kitchen on the fourth floor. Word to the wise: That stove could use a good cleaning and the burners tend to run a little hot.”
“I thought the dorm kitchens were an urban legend,” I tell her.
Clover rolls her eyes and cruelly takes the brownies from me as my stomach rumbles.
“Will we see you both next week?” Sandra asks as Greta begins to steer her toward the door.
Beside me, Clover silently stutters, and I manage to say some kind of version ofsounds good.
The moment I close the door behind them, Clover plops down on the bed and peels the lid back on the brownies. She lies back with the container balanced on her chest while she bites into one thoughtfully and then purrs in response. “Oh shit, these are so good.” She groans. “I’m going to be late for financial accounting.”
“Did we just commit to a double date?” I ask as I bite into one myself, unable to control the pornographic moan it elicits.
“Nah,” she says. “I’m sure no one will notice if we skip out.”
CHAPTER 7
Clover
“I thought you said people wouldn’t notice if we skipped,” Bennett whispers as we’re both bent over, tying the laces of our bowling shoes.
That was before Miss Linch emailed me personally to make sure we would be here.
He glances over to where the assistant director of housing sits behind a scorekeeper next to her boyfriend, a kindergarten teacher named Marshall who brought his own bowling shoes from home. The only way I can describe them isorthopedic.
“It’ll be over before we know it,” I tell him.
In the end, six other couples show up. We are spread out across two lanes.
Sandra and Greta claim us as their teammates no matter how many times I tell them that we have collectively bowled maybe two and a half times in our lives.
In our same lane is Miss Linch (who asks us to call her Madeline, but I can’t bring myself to do it), Marshall, Blake, and Danielle. Thelatter are in their late twenties and have a seven-month-old daughter, so they live in the campus apartments, which are so far out of the way that they’re technically in a different zip code. Blake seems to be very committed to competing, while Danielle is studying the baby monitor app on her phone like it’s the season finale ofThe Real Housewives of New Jersey. (The best in the franchise, obviously. No, I will not be taking questions at this time.)
Marshall is first up and before he takes his ball (also brought from home), he dons a leather fingerless glove from his bowling bag.
“We’re fucked,” Bennett whispers. “The guy has invested in equipment.”
Sandra claps a hand down on his knee as Greta slings an arm over her shoulder. “Intimidation tactic,” she says. “My Greta throws a strike her uncle taught her called the One-Eyed Willy.”
“He was a dirty old man,” Greta says, “but his heart was in the right place.”
I crack a smile until Miss Linch turns her attention on us. “I’m curious, Clover. How did you and Bennett meet?”
Shit. We hadn’t really prepared for this question, which feels absurd, but honestly, we’ve known each other for so long that I didn’t even consider it. That’s okay. The best lie sounds like the truth. I’ll just say we were childhood friends.
“We met in a haunted house,” Bennett blurts.
There’s no stopping the way my head snaps up at him and the absolute nonsense that’s just come out of his mouth.
“You’re up,” Greta tells him.
