"That only gives me six hours to get ready!"
I laugh to myself, amused by her panic, before she grabs ahold of my arm and yanks me out of my seat. Reaching down, she grabs both of our bags, pulling me along with her. "Let's go!"
"Whoa, wait, I've got class in a bit."
"Jesus Christ, Karissa, class can wait! Didn't you hear me? I have a date!"
I'm not sure if she realizes she rhymed there. Usually she'd point it out, like she's some kind of rapper in training, but I think she's too frazzled to find the humor in it right now. "Okay, okay, relax, Dr. Seuss. I'll go with you. Just... give me a second."
She stops pulling on me, and I take my bag from her, situating it on my back before motioning toward the path. "After you."
Melody still lives in the dorms, the same room we used to share together, back before I moved out and, you know, got married. A sense of nostalgia hits me when we reach the thirteenth floor, and I stare at the door as she unlocks it, smiling. 1313.
So many memories happened here, but unlike the classroom, these are mostly all happy.
My smile dims, though, the moment she pushes open the door and my eyes fall right upon her latest roommate. It's her fourth since me… they never last long. The new girl turns, her eyes narrowing, and she glares at us as we enter, the kind of hostility you shouldn't ever get from a stranger. Slamming her book closed, she snatches it up and storms from the room, brushing right past us without saying a word.
Melody seems, for the most part, unaffected. I watch as the girl goes straight for the elevators, slapping the button for it like the damn thing offended her. She's a pretty girl—ginger with green eyes and freckles—but the scowl on her face is kind of ugly.
"Trouble in paradise?" I ask, stepping into the room behind Melody and shutting the door.
She sighs dramatically. "They can't all be as understanding as you were."
"Uh-oh, you didn't pick up a guy in a flight suit at Timbers and bring him home to screw, did you?"
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The moment the words come from my lips, I instantly regret them. I'm an idiot. Of course I'd bring up Paul at a moment like this.
She frowns, flopping down on her bed... or what appears to be just a gigantic pile of clothes currently. "She says I'm messy."
"Yeah," I say, looking around. Melody's side of the room is, as usual, akin to a natural disaster. "So?"
"So she says I'm careless, and loud, and ugh, she says I snore. Can you believe that? Me? Snore?"
"Well, uh... only when you've been drinking."
"I haven't been, though. I've done nothing to that girl! But all she wants to do is sit here in silence and eat her frickin' protein bars and meditate. Do you know she's never been to Timbers? Who hasn't been to Timbers?"
"I guess she hasn't, whatever her name is."
"Kimberly," Melody says, her face scrunching up. "Kimberly Anne Vanderbilt. Rich snob of a name if I've ever heard one."
I refrain from pointing out that she's a Melody Priscilla Carmichael, which isn't any more common-folk sounding. I can tell she's getting in a funk now, though, so I change the subject. "Now, about this date..."
It's like a switch is flipped. That quick. The spark is back in her eyes as she lets out another squeal.
Man, I still envy how she bounces back so easily.
She's off the bed again, digging through her closet, flinging more clothes onto the mountain on the bed.
I'm not much help. I mean, come on... does anybody expect anything different? I have more stuff now than I ever could've imagined, but I'm still wearing my favorite pair of old jeans, black boots, and a black top, one I'm about ninety-percent certain I found in Naz's closet. It's way too big for me. So I just sit there, trying to distract her from her panic, as she strips willy-nilly in front of me, trying on half of what she owns.
An hour passes, and I miss my class, but it's nice to just hang out and laugh with my friend again.
Besides, it's just math.
Who really needs to know how to do that?
The door to the room opens, and Melody is standing there in a bra and her panties, not giving any sort of fucks when her roommate walks in. The girl lets out a noise of disgust as she plops down at her desk, her back to us.
"I have nothing to wear," Melody say, shaking her head, ignoring that I've given the thumb's up to at least a dozen outfits. "Like... nothing."
"Well, where's he taking you?"
"I don't know," she says, pulling on a pair of leggings. "But he said something about reservations, so I'm pretty sure it isn't Wendy's."
"Huh, is there even a Wendy's here in the city?"
"There are a couple." She shoots me a look. "That's not important here."
Some fries dipped in a chocolate Frosty sound pretty damn important to me at the moment, but I let her slide on that.
"Look, come on," I say, standing up from the bed. "It's obvious we're not getting anywhere here so let's go somewhere else."
"Thank God," Kimberly mutters, not even under her breath, obviously not caring if we hear.
Melody shoots daggers at her roommate before turning to me. "Like where?"
"My closet."
She scoffs, looking me over, judging my outfit, before something seems to strike her. "Oh! That's right! Naz updated your wardrobe! I mean, can't really tell it…" She scowls at my shirt, reaching over and tugging on it. "I was about to say, ain't no way I'm wearing one of your scarf-y ensembles on my date tonight. You can keep your damn Crocs."
I roll my eyes. "I don't wear Crocs."
"But you own some."
I have half a mind to come to my own defense, but what's the point, really?
Besides, I'm pretty sure she's right here, so I let her slide on that also.