The overwhelming appreciation for my best friend and her place in my life clutches at my chest.
“Thank you, Lil. I really hope everything works out.”
She reels back, hands leaving mine. “What? What do you mean you ‘hope’?”
“Between Locke and me. I hope it works out.” I shrug.
“It will work out. I’ve already thought everything over.” Her finger taps her temple and she nods. I would assume she’s joking, except there’s no humor covering her expression. “I’ve already looked into the housing policy. Co-ed dorms only exist for graduate housing, and they have much more lax rules for those students. Also, no university as reputable as Brookstone is going to be concerned with whether their students aredating.”
She’s speaking so furiously, I almost forgot what my real worries were.
“You looked this up?”
“Yes. As soon as we got home from the board game café.”
I scoff and rub my fingers into my forehead. “Nothing even happened then.”
“Says you. I felt like I was third wheeling.” Liliana takes a quick sip of her latte while I look on confused. “And I’m the one in a relationship.”
I laugh half-heartedly. There’s something more weighing on my chest.
“I’m not worried about the school.”
She smirks. “Perfect. You have no reason to be.”
I try to shake off the realization that Liliana and I have truly switched places. She’s the smug and hopeful one, and I’m the one stressed about the worst outcome
Chewing on my straw, I mumble, “I’m worried about what people will think.”
It sickens me to hear—especially coming from my own mouth. I know it’s senseless to hold such emphasis on this, but the scars of being beaten by opinions and criticisms are fresh.
There’s a wordless exchange. My best friend raising her eyebrow at me. We nod at each other once, twice, before she hums in understanding. She’s heard the story enough times that one side glance is enough to tell it again.
“The guys in your cohort are immature and unprofessional. Their behavior shows they’re still stuck in high school, where they probably peaked.”
Liliana grunts and I snort. That’s the closest she’ll ever get to cussing someone out. The disdain in her tone makes it just as harsh and unforgiving.
“You’re not wrong.”
“I know. And you shouldn’t concern yourself with opinions of people with minds so juvenile.”
She continues with her insults—small-minded, childish,sexist—and it should make me feel better. It should be enough to remind me how little value my peers’ opinions will have after school is said and done, and I work my way up to the position I deserve.
Frustration scratches at the back of my throat. I’ll have to work my way up, but they’ll be handed their spots. I’ll fight for a place above their station, where I belong, and they’ll be gifted every opportunity I’ll bust my ass for.
It’s not fair.
“I know what you’re saying, Lil. And you’re right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Her monologue gets cut short. She glances at me, we share those silent words, and she nods.
“What are you going to do, though? If you and Locke are together, and someone decides to open their mouth and criticize you for it?”
The heaviness ofcriticize youand notcriticize you bothhang in the air. It weighs down on my shoulders painfully.
“Nothing, I guess?”
“You’re not going to pursue things with Locke, then?”
