The Senior (College Years 4)

He laughs for at least a minute. And the longer it lasts, the angrier I get. Until I’m tempted to grab that basketball and throw it in his smug ass laughing face.

“What the fuck is wrong with that?” I finally ask him.

“You’re delusional.” He shakes his head. “Seriously, what are you thinking? You two were in a relationship for four years, and now you think you’re going to be fuck buddies? Unbelievable.”

“It could happen.” I shrug. Deep down, I know he’s speaking the truth. “She still seems into me.”

If by being into me, I mean she wants to murder me, then yes.

She’s totally into me.

“What went down between you two last night?” Caleb asks, his laughter finally dying.

“We talked.”

“And…”

“That’s it,” I say, realizing at the last second that I don’t want to share with him what else Ava and I did last night. It feels too personal to reveal. And a little messed-up. We shouldn’t have kissed.

Then again, we should’ve. It’s like we can’t help ourselves, and I suppose that’s our issue. We still want each other. Our love for each other is deep. We’ve been through a lot together. It’s hard to just—quit that.

“Now you think you two can just randomly hook up, here and there? With no feelings attached?” Caleb raises his brows.

“Oh yeah.” I wave a hand like it’s no big deal. “We’ve always had chemistry. I’ve got no one in my life right now. Neither does she.”

At least, I don’t think she does. Can’t think like that though, or I’ll get furious quick.

“Like I said, you’re delusional.” He jabs his finger in the air, straight at me. “You’re still in love with her.”

“I still care about her,” I correct, because no way in hell am I admitting to Caleb that he nailed it on the head.

I’m still in love with Ava.

What if she’s still not in love with me?

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says with a snort. I’ve lived with this guy for a while now. How did I not notice how fucking annoying he is before?

Wait, I did. He’s just extra annoying at this very moment.

“She’s living at home until the spring semester. She’ll go back to San Diego in January,” I explain. “Why not try and hook up, now and again? We’ll run into each other constantly, thanks to our mutual friend group. And it’s pointless to hate on each other. I could never hate Ava. Am I still mad at her? Hell yes.”

“Is she still mad at you?” Caleb asks.

I remember her blazing green eyes and the things she said. She got some real zingers in too, aiming straight for my heart. And my ego—which she thinks is too big. She even called me the most selfish person she knows, and we know a lot of jackasses.

That stung. When it came to her, I was not selfish. As in, I gave her whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. I adored that girl. Worshipped her.

I still do.

“Yeah, she’s still mad at me,” I finally admit.

“Maybe you can fuck the mad out of each other,” Caleb suggests, as if that’s a perfectly logical solution to our problem.

And you know what? I like that answer. I like it a lot. But would Ava be down?

Probably not.

“I don’t know,” I say, wincing at how uncertain I sound. That’s not how I roll. I’m certain of everything, or at least I pretend to be. “She probably won’t agree.”