Oswald reluctantly starts to back away. “Oxford?”
“No, near the park.” I’m so flustered, I can’t think of the cross street. In my defense, I have only lived here a short time, and I’ve had to do a lot of mapping to get where I’m going.
“In a sorority house?”
“No.” I hike my bag up higher and shake my head.
“Gravlin, we’ve got to go now,” the other guy yells.
“Fuck. 734-344-2100. Can you remember that? I’ve got to go. Text me.” He says his number so fast, I don’t even register it as more than a single word, plus he was trying to keep his voice down, so I’m not confident I heard him correctly.
I shrug my shoulders and shake my head again. He dashes forward and grabs my hand. A jolt passes through me, and I experience something I’ve only ever heard people talk about—a true sense of peace and calmness. “734-344-2100, repeat it,” he demands, and I recite the number without fail.
Oz
She’s staringup at me with wide eyes, and her lips are slightly parted. I want to kiss her nearly as badly as I want to punch Higgins in the side of the head, probably more, but I can’t do either.
“I have to go.”
“I know, he’s getting really agitated,” she says so softly, I can barely hear her. I get goose bumps on my arms like she’s blowing across my neck. My eyes search hers again, looking for answers she doesn’t seem to have.
I need to know one thing though—what was she doing with the other dude? Clearly, he’s not her boyfriend if he left her with me, but how well do they know each other? I plan to ask her that as soon as she calls me.
“You need to go, people are staring,” she tells me when I still don’t move.
I want to tell her to let them look, but I was in a hurry before I ran into her. She pushes me with just a single finger on my chest, and I release her hand. I still can’t force myself to turn around though, even when she ducks her head and turns to hurry down the path.
“What the fuck, Oz? Coach is going to be pissed you’re making us late.”
I don’t even bother responding to Higgins. Instead, I pull my phone out of my pocket, so I’ll know the moment she texts me, before hustling my ass down the corridor to the stupid team building dinner.
KISMET
Waylynn
The moment Oswald is gone,the effervescent feeling that was spilling through me disappears. I start doubting any of it was real before I even make it to the next building. By the time I’m crossing Washtenaw, I’m questioning everything I said and did.
I can’t believe I told him I live by Hill. I mean, it’s not like he can find me from just that little bit of information, but what was I thinking? And then the crap I told him about running into his brother. A groan leaves my lips, and the girl next to me gives me the side-eye like I was complaining about her.
My name. I want to smack myself in the forehead after I remember that part. Now he can tell his brother who I am too. He probably thinks I was trying to grope him on purpose, and I can’t even blame him after the way the girl acted in class.
My fingers and toes are tingling by the time I make it to my backdoor. I just need to get inside, and then I won’t feel like I have eyes on my back watching my every move.
Once the door is shut, I turn the lock and let my bag slip off my arm to the floor. It feels easier to breathe, but not like the blissful twenty seconds Oswald was holding my hand. I bite the corner of my lip, already warring with myself about him. I know I’m always going to wonder if that was a one-time event or if it can be replicated, and if it can, then how much am I going to crave it?
That night before going to bed, I actually program the number that has been on repeat in my head all evening into my phone. Feeling brave, I even put it under the name Oswald instead of a fake name like I planned.
Memphis
My door opens without a knock.I should really learn to lock the fucking thing. Oz slips in quietly, as if he thinks he can sneak in. “What are you doing awake?” he chastises when he sees me at my desk.
I spin around in my shitty computer chair and override his question. “What are you doing here?”
“I hate that fucking room.” He plods over to my futon and throws himself on it. I’m surprised the thing has lasted as long as it has with his big ass dropping on it so often.
“What exactly do you hate? The bathroom you only have to share with youroneroommate and your premium mattress, or is it the fact that you have an all-you-can-eat buffet two floors down?” I deadpan.
“It must not be that great, or you’d still be there,” he retorts.
