I won’t take Sydney’s money. That is one thing I have decided for sure. No matter how all this plays out, I can’t live with the idea that Bennett would even think I would choose money over him.
On Wednesday night after my library shift, I drag my body down the hallway just as Briar is packing up her grilled cheese operation for the night.
“Hey,” she says. “Bennett out of town?”
I turn to her, my key card in hand, and my resolve immediately crumbles, tears spilling before I can choke out a reply.
“Okay. Fuck. Crying. Not really my wheelhouse.” She turns over her shoulder and waves her arms. “Daisy!”
A moment later, I hear an “Oh!”
Daisy steps around Briar, pulling her baby-pink headphones around her neck.
The second I see her I only start crying harder.
“Hey, hey,” she says, rushing to me as she gives Briar a what-did-you-do look.
Briar shrugs, untying her apron and hanging it on the back of the door. “All I asked is if Bennett was out of town, I swear.”
Daisy guides me into their room and onto her bed. “Take a breath. Just breathe.” She smooths calming circles over my back and points to her pink mini fridge with her free hand.
Briar returns with a very cutesy can of prebiotic soda and opens it for me, encouraging me to take a sip.
The breathing is working, and after a few hiccups, I take the water and concentrate on the cold trickle down my throat. I pat dry my warm cheeks and manage to say, “Thanks. Sorry about that.”
“What’s going on?” Daisy asks. “I’m guessing it’s about Bennett.”
Briar sits down on my other side, and she’s not physicallycomforting me, but something about her posture makes me feel like she’s standing guard for me.
“He left,” I tell them through a shaky sigh.
Daisy’s eyes go wide for a second before she schools her expression. “Like, temporarily?”
I shake my head because talking is making it all so much worse.
“But you guys are like the picture of domestic bliss,” Briar says, and there’s a hint of sadness in her voice, like our relationship failing is upsetting to her on a personal level. “Honestly, the only example of a healthy marriage in my life.”
The words are right there, sitting on my tongue. I know I shouldn’t. The semester is almost over. But Briar and Daisy are the only friends I have on campus, and I want to trust them. Maybe I can at least finish this semester with the knowledge that I’ve made two friends.
“It was a lie,” I whisper.
They both sit silently, waiting for me to explain.
With their questions and all the relevant background information, it takes almost an hour and a half, three grilled cheese sandwiches, six snack-size pouches of fruit chews, four and a half Diet Cokes, and a trip to the ice machine downstairs to refill our heavy-enough-to-be-murder-weapon water cups.
When my story is complete, the three of us sit in a row on Daisy’s bed wearing under-eye masks and considering toenail polish colors for me because it is something small that we can control. After Daisy and Briar paint five toes each, we huddle around a phone and watch ridiculous, brain-rotting videos.
Daisy closes her eyes for just a minute sometime around five and ends up with her head in my lap atop a fluffy, lip-shaped throw pillow.
Briar opens a fresh pouch of fruit chews and rolls them all togetherinto one mega fruit chew ball. She takes a bite, and then turns to me. “We could apply for a three-person room.”
“What?” I hear her just fine, but I must be misunderstanding. Most of the time, Briar has me wondering if she even likes me. Surely, she isn’t suggesting that I live with her and Daisy.
“It could be fun,” she says. “And a little bit cheaper.”
“That’s—that’s really kind of you, Briar.”
She snorts. “Don’t make me take it back.”
