Little Lies

I scrunch my nose. “You mean hook up with one of them?”

“Sure. Why not? Those guys have great bodies and wicked stamina.”

“My twin would murder any of his teammates who so much as looked at me the wrong way, so a hookup is out of the question, and also not my style.”

“Hmm . . . I can see how that might be a problem, then.” Josiah opens the door to the Identity and Inclusion Center. It’s marked with a safe space symbol. “Well, if you ever need a wingman at one of those house parties, you let me know. I’ll be the Goose to your Maverick.”

“Oh my God, you did not reference Top Gun.”

“The opening was there. How could I not? My mom watched that movie all the freaking time.”

“So did mine.”

“I used to fantasize about Goose and Maverick hooking up in the locker room.”

“But Goose’s mustache.” I scrunch my nose.

“A little tickle for your pickle.” Josiah waggles his brows and I burst out laughing.

“Anyway, I was obsessed with that movie for a while, and fighter planes, but mostly with young Tom Cruise.” He makes a heart with his fingers and holds it up to his chest.

“Here’s an interesting fact: My mom was on a Tom Cruise kick when she was pregnant with Maverick.”

“So she named him after the character in the movie?”

“That she did. There are conflicting stories about who picked mine and River’s names, but he most definitely drew the short straw. I mean, River Waters?”

“River?” His eyes flare and he coughs once before he says, “That’s a movie star name.”

“He’s pretty enough to be one, and moody too.” I take in the very cool, very open lounge area. Students congregate in small groups, seated on couches and chairs.

A group standing by the pool tables waves Josiah over, and I’m introduced to his friends. They’re easy to talk to, welcoming me in. Which means I’ve made my first genuine friends here.____________________

That night, I stay over at Lacey and Lovey’s. The sleepover is both a good and bad idea. Good, because it means I don’t have to deal with my brothers’ jock friends. Bad because I end up getting drunk and developing a horrible case of verbal diarrhea. I’m almost positive I bitched about Kodiak to some random guy who may or may not have been flirting with me.

Post-night with Lovey and Lacey, I do everything I possibly can to avoid running into Kodiak. It’s not all that difficult. I can hang out with Josiah and his friends between classes. I spend time with Lovey and Lacey at the café. I study anywhere but at home, which means I find all the best, quietest spots in the library, and I eat an unprecedented amount of dry cereal and granola bars as a result.

It’s hellishly inconvenient, but it also means I don’t have to deal with my brothers or any of the other shit that comes with living with two guys who throw a lot of parties and have a constant rotation of embarrassingly desperate women in the house.

Regardless, I’m managing, and I’ve made a few friends of my own, so those are all wins and what I’m trying to focus on—at least until I get the pop quiz back from macroeconomics class.

Of course I’ve failed. With 25 percent. The note at the bottom of my test suggests I visit student services and set up tutoring to help me with the basics, since this test is the foundation for the rest of the semester.

Student services has been closed for hours by the time class ends on Tuesday evening. It’s warm tonight, and I’m aware that we only have a few more weeks before the weather turns for good, so I figure I’ll go for a swim when I get home and clear my head. Plus, the physical activity helps my anxiety. During my video session with Queenie yesterday, she suggested I take advantage of the pool while it’s still open. She was pleased that I’d made new friends, and even that I’d gone to a party. I left out the part where I got drunk, obviously.

Being uncoordinated means there aren’t a lot of sports I’m good at, but I love to swim. The water is the one place where I feel like my body isn’t awkward. And it’s quiet, peaceful—which is something I don’t feel very often. Especially not recently. It also tends to help me sleep, another thing I haven’t been doing well lately.

I almost throw up in my mouth the second I step into the front foyer and trip over a pile of nasty-smelling sneakers. I cover my mouth and nose with my palm and leave my shoes on. I don’t trust that they won’t get lost under the other ones, and I don’t want the smell contaminating them.