“Has it been like this all night?” She punches in her code to clock in.
“Yep and unfortunately this match is almost over, so soon enough it’ll be completely dead.”
“Ew. That sucks.” She glances at her phone. “Oh, wrong. There’s a pep rally tonight. I guess they hadn’t done one in like ten years. This should start getting lit in like half an hour.”
“Well, I leave in like thirty minutes, but yay for you!”
Thirty minutes later, as if on cue, the door starts opening and people start piling in. I shake my head and laugh, looking at Marissa, who’s laughing right back.
“Unbelievable.”
“When is Patrick coming in?” I stop undoing the apron I’m wearing and realize I may not be able to leave after all.
“He’s in the back,” Marissa says. “He hadn’t had lunch or dinner, so he’s eating back there.”
“So you don’t need me?”
“You can go.” She smiles. “Have fun at the party. Live a little!”
The house is quiet. Too quiet. I don’t like it. I’m about to text Jagger, but decide against it. This is casual. I can’t just text him because I miss him. I gasp at my own thought, setting the mascara down. I miss him. That’s okay though because that’s normal. He’s my roommate and it’s quiet. I’m allowed to miss him even though he’s not mine to miss. Right? Right. My phone buzzes with a text from Misty telling me she’s outside. I pick up my phone and shove it into the crossbody bag I’m wearing, and walk out the door. The moment I step out I shiver. It got chilly.
“It got chilly,” I shout out, turning around to see my sister in the back seat of the Uber, a black SUV.
“Hey, Jo,” Dylan calls out.
“I’ll keep you warm.” Bobby lowers the window of the front passenger seat.
I laugh, then look at Misty. “Should I get a jacket?”
“We’re going to be inside, so no, you’ll lose it. you lose everything.” She rolls her eyes, opening the door for me. “Get in, loser!”
“You know, you don’t have to say that every time,” I say, but laugh anyway, because it is funny. “Hi, guys.” I smile and wave at each of them, suddenly feeling shy.
“You look incredible,” Bobby says, turning fully in his seat just as the driver starts driving.
“Thank you.” I feel myself blush.
The two of them are wearing long-sleeve button-downs and jeans, so I’m assuming this frat party isn’t your typical kegger. I don’t ask though, because it doesn’t matter. I’m going anyway. They start talking about baseball—or keep talking about it, judging from the murderous glare my sister suddenly has—pretty quickly, and I relax into my seat. I don’t understand men. Supposedly all they do is think about sex when they’re not fucking us, but instead of focusing their attention on trying to woo us so they can get laid, they’re talking about . . . fucking baseball. And Mitch Cruz, no less. I grab my sister’s hand and she squeezes it back with a grip that screams get me the hell out. Luckily, we arrive at the house and spill out of the car. When I look at the house, I realize this is the house. The house. The one I hooked up with Jagger in that first time. My entire body goes hot so I busy myself with what my sister is doing, which is sending Dylan half of the money for the Uber we just took, which makes me roll my eyes harder until Dylan’s phone chime and he looks up at her wide-eyed.
“Hey, you weren’t supposed to pay for that.”
“It’s totally fine.” Misty smiles, but it doesn’t light up her eyes.
I take her hand again. “Let’s go find some drinks, yeah?”
“Definitely.” We walk toward the house with Dylan and Bobby in tow, but when we reach the door, each of them sidle up next to us and I wonder if this is their way of telling people we’re with them. I assume it is. Another reminder of how out of practice I am.
We get drinks, vodka and Red Bull. Bobby points at a cabinet and tells us that’s where the good shit is.
“You know someone who lives here?” I ask.
“I live here,” Bobby chuckles.
“Oh.” Well, shit. “Interesting.”
“I can show you my room if you want.” He winks. “I’m not saying that as in let me show you my room and get naked, I truly mean I can show it to you.”
I laugh. “Thanks for clarifying.”
“Not that I’d be opposed to you getting naked.” He brings a finger up. “I’m just saying, I’m not a douche like that.”
“So what kind of douche are you like?” Misty asks. “Just so we’re clear.”
“I . . . ” Bobby lets out a soft laugh. “I totally set myself up for that one.”
“Shots,” Dylan shouts. A distraction. Bobby shoots him an appreciative smile. My sister and I roll our eyes and sip our vodka.