“Ha ha ha.” She rolls her eyes at my sarcasm. “What I mean is, Grant and I wanted to start getting everyone together to hang out. His main concern was Locke feeling overwhelmed with new people.” The simple, brotherly love of that makes me grin. “But if he knows you already, then that’s perfect. It’d only be one new person Locke would meet.”
“That person being?”
“Grant’s best friend. He got out of a bad relationship last month, so Grant’s trying to get him out and socializing.”
The best ideas start sprouting in my head. “Socializing how? Like, with bowling, or volunteering, or maybe going out clubbing with your friends?”
“No. Not clubbing.”
I whine and throw my head back against the chair. “Come on! Just once?”
“I went clubbing with you once. Never again.”
“I told you bar fights are not as common as you think and we just got really unlucky.”
“I’m scarred.” She shrugs, and my hope dies. “Clubbing is not a part of the plans. I’ll figure something out—something fun and wholesome and not surrounded by sweaty half-drunk people—and we’ll let you guys know.”
I fall into my seat half-dejected. Do I think my best friend will ever give into my requests to go partying before we become too exhausted to stay out past eight PM? No. But the thought of us, hanging out with her boyfriend, and his brother, does cushion the hit.
I don’t hate being associated with Locke. If we’re roommates with mutual friends, that’ll probably become a given. At least for the school year.
Maybe that’s a good thing. I hoped I’d find friendship with my roommate. Locke makes it feel possible. And if what Liliana said about his father is true, then I’m even more happy to be a friend to him.
I’d like to make our apartment a safe space for the both of us. Everyone deserves one of those.
I nod. “Fine. No clubbing, but I do want us to all hang out.”
“We will.” She motions for the waitress to bring the check, and I reach for my card before she can stop me. “I might take your bowling suggestion. It sounds fun.”
“It does… But if you ever feel like-”
“No.”
“I didn’t even finish my sentence.”
“You don’t have to.”
My best friend is distracted enough for me to slap my card down. I’ll pay for dinner, she’ll pay for boba, and one day, we’ll go to a club and get someone else to pay for our drinks.
eight
LOCKE
I trymy hardest to be the first person out of class. The classmates who sit next to me have already attempted to initiate conversation, and I’ve already awkwardly shut them down. The longer I stay in the room, the more people will think there’s an opportunity to talk.
If they actually wanted to talk aboutme, as a person, I’d be more open to conversations.
I’m not surprised when it happens again, before I get halfway out of the lecture hall.
“You’re the McCarthy son, right?” The only other student left asks with a wide grin. His curly red hair is out of place and flattened on one side from pressing into the wood of his desk. This is the most awake he’s been since our classes started a few weeks ago.
“Unfortunately,” is what I want to say. I don’t.
I simply straighten my spine, nod, and try to work through the anxiety bubbling in my stomach.
“Wow. Super cool.” He smiles, too enthusiastic for someone who sat through hours of theoretical principles. I stare at his nose ring to avoid eye contact. “Word’s been getting around that the VK heir was in our cohort.”
He laughs and I strain a smile. Pretending to be interested is the quickest way out of these situations. If they think you’re interested, they’ll believe your bad excuse to leave. But if you make it obvious you’re uncomfortable, they push. They don’t let up because they think you don’t understand them, never the other way around.
