I’m hungry at one point, so I make my way down to the kitchen to scavenge the fridge, unearthing the shepherd’s pie Eliza tried her hand at Wednesday night in an attempt to be domestic. She botched some of the crust, but it’s edible, and it’s not lasagna leftovers—we’ve been eating that shit for way too long. I’m sick of it.
I’m at the counter when my phone dings.
Lilly’s name appears in my notifications, so I set down my fork and pick up my cell.
Lilly: I know you said you didn’t want to come out tonight but could you PLEASE come and help me?
Help her?
I stand at the counter, wiping my mouth on a napkin.
Me: What’s wrong??
Lilly: Kyle is here.
Lilly: Which itself isn’t shocking or a surprise, but he wants to talk to me and I want nothing to do with him.
Me: Is Jack there with you?
I’m already flying up the stairs, shucking off these stupid track pants at the same time, eyes scanning my bedroom for an actual pair of jeans.
There are some tossed next to the laundry hamper; I snatch them and pull them on.
Lilly: Jack and Eliza are both here, but he’s like, the center of attention, and the last thing I want to do is cause drama.
Me: Where are you now?
Lilly: The bathroom—but I can’t stay in here forever, people will get pissed.
Me: Give me ten minutes tops, I’m already on my way.
Does she want me to…pretend to be her new boyfriend? As if her last one is going to believe the charade? I’m hardly a match for him. One look at me and he’s going to laugh us out of the room.
But she’s asking for help, and it’s not my place to point out the flaw in her plan.
It’s freezing outside, but I skip a jacket, not wanting to waste time fetching it out of the mudroom where I hung it on a hook. Hop in my car and navigate toward Jock Row, glad I didn’t have to ask the poor girl for directions.
The red shirt is the talisman I need to spot Lilly immediately in the crowd of mundane, mute colors upon arriving at the baseball house. It’s packed and lively, music blaring.
My peers are spilling out of the house and onto the wraparound porch it’s so packed inside.
I feel out of place.
Foreign.
Like a fraud for being here.
But then…
There she is.
Blonde hair, red shirt, black skirt. There is a frown on her face when she looks up and finally sees me, her back pressed against the wall near where I assume the bathroom is.
Kyle is gesturing as he speaks to her.
When she catches my eye—watching as I walk toward her through the crowd—she visibly relaxes.
“Hey, I made it.” I kiss her on the forehead in greeting, doing my best to appear like a boyfriend, genuine and not the bundle of nerves I am inside. I feel sick to my stomach, somewhat terrified Kyle Gordeski, star of the football team, is going to punch me in the face for touching his ex-girlfriend.
When Lilly slides her arm around my waist, it causes my entire body to shiver.
She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss me on the mouth. “Hey, babe.”
My lips tingle.
“Who the fuck is this?” Kyle asks. I’ve never actually been this close to a football player on the university team before. He’s big, but so am I—and he’s intimidating, but I’m smart. Who the fuck is this? What kind of greeting is that?
He sounds like a Neanderthal.
“This is Rome, the guy I’m dating.”
Kyle barely looks at me. “You’re already dating someone new? Jesus, Lill, you’re not even going to let the body get cold?”
Her chin tilts up. “Yes, I’m dating someone new.”
She doesn’t explain herself like I thought she would, offering him no other explanation. After all, he doesn’t deserve one—based on what she’s told me and from what my roommates have told me, he cheated on her the entire time they were together, which wasn’t very long.
“Just like that?”
She gives a definitive nod. “Just like that.”
“So that’s it?”
I don’t want to open my mouth and get involved, and from the sounds of it, I don’t have to. The guy is giving up quicker than I can say Cambridge Stein Scholarship.
“Yes. Why, did you have something you wanted to say?”
Kyle glances back and forth between the pair of us, glances down at her arm around my waist and the way I casually slide mine around hers. She’s so tiny she fits right under my armpit when I pull her close.
I expect more of a confrontation from Kyle; I threw on actual jeans to race over here tonight. Sweatpants and arguments do not jive well. Better lower my expectations and lock away my wits now that Kyle is standing before me, seemingly backing down from any type of fight.