That does sound delicious. “Get me some, would you? Anything. I’ll eat anything.”
Kaylee laughs. “And will you come out with us? We won’t stay long, just want to pop in. I have to be home by eleven because there’s a game tomorrow.”
The cheerleaders, just like the rest of the student athletes, have a curfew the night before there’s a home game. Which means they have to all be home or in their dorm rooms so when the coaching staff calls for a confirmation, they aren’t out when they’re supposed to be…in.
Oftentimes Kaylee will have to FaceTime or send a selfie and make sure to include the background and time stamp. The coaches just don’t want their athletes drinking and partying the night before an important game.
“Eleven? I could do eleven. Sure, I’ll come.”
This pleases my roommate, and she grins from ear to ear. “Cool. We’ll order dinner and then have some time to get ready before we leave. Plan on nine?”
Nine? Dang, that is an early evening.
Usually they don’t like arriving anywhere before ten.
“Can you flip my light on? I can’t lie in here in the dark or I’ll fall back asleep.”
“Sure.” Kaylee flips my switch on before easing my door closed the slightest bit, disappearing back into the kitchen to order dinner.
I stare up at the ceiling, racking my brain to remember what I dreamed about during my nap…and come up short.
My phone buzzes and I roll back to my side, hand patting the comforter in an attempt to locate it.
Jack’s name is in my notification center.
Jack: What are you doing?
Why is he texting me? We have nothing to say to each other now that we’ve switched our phones back.
And besides, messaging him like this feels like I’m cheating with him behind Kaylee’s back, and I don’t like it—not that they’re dating, but it still feels wrong despite the fact that…
That…
I clear my throat, deciding to answer his question with a question.
Me: What are YOU doing?
Jack: Nothing. Watching the telly, being bored.
Me: So…you decided “I’m bored, I should message Eliza”?
Jack: Well, sort of, but you don’t have to make it sound like a bad thing.
Me: For your information, Mr. Jones, I just woke up from a nap.
Jack: Oh brilliant! I love naps.
Jack: Wait, isn’t it a hair late for a slumber? Bedtime is only a few hours away—will you manage to sleep?
Eh. That’s debatable.
Me: My plan wasn’t to sleep until seven, so who knows. I may wind up staring at the ceiling all night, hating myself and regretting it later.
Jack: By the by, you keep calling me Jones.
Me: Oh that’s right, Mr. Fancy Pants likes to be called by his TWO last names.
Jack: I mean…I have two last names. They go together, it’s not like I’m purposely CHOOSING to use two, they were given to me at birth.
That has me feeling like an asshole because he’s right, I shouldn’t be mocking his birthright. He’s not snotty because he has a hyphenated last name, it’s just not all that common in the States. Still, that doesn’t make it wrong.
That makes me the snob.
Me: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease about your name when I know you have two.
Jack: You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Don’t have this problem in England, but I’m not in England right now, am I?
That makes me feel like an even bigger shithead.
Me: Any plans tonight?
Jack: No. Just chilling.
Me: Careful, you’re starting to sound American.
Jack: Ha! That wouldn’t be the worst thing, though my mum would turn in her grave. Not that she’s dead, but it WOULD probably kill her.
Me: LOL
Jack: Do YOU have any plans tonight?
Me: Yes, for once. House party.
Jack: Where?
Me: One of the fraternities is having a thing, my roommates want to pop in. It’ll be an early night because Kaylee has a curfew.
Jack: Ahh, I see.
Me: I should probably go eat and then start getting ready.
Jack: Bit early to get ready for a house party, is it not?
Me: Yes, but like I said—early night. Home by eleven and maybe a drink or two of alcohol will help me sleep???
We’ll see.
I’m just getting myself a drink when a familiar face walks through the front door and into the foyer of the fraternity house.
Tall.
Dark.
Jeans and a preppy, pink and white gingham shirt tucked in. Brown belt. He looks wealthy and tidy but entirely approachable, too.
It’s the scruff on his face, the shadow of whiskers because he hasn’t shaved.
Ugh.
“Oh my god, it’s Jack.” Kaylee grabs my arm and gives it a little shake. “What is he doing here—did you know he was coming?”
Good point: What the hell is he doing here? He told me he was going to stay home tonight—he didn’t mention that he was going to come out and party, too.
Is he here because I’m here? Or is he here because my roommate is here? He hasn’t come over, but I see him watching us from across the room, a head above all the other guys. They surround him, wanting his undivided attention, both girls and guys alike.