We talk about things other than boys, thankfully, and I try to focus and keep my eyes on the prize.
Being happy.
* * *
My classes are all over with, and I’ve been in my room for a bit. Lauren isn’t anywhere around, and I clean up my things that had gotten messed up somehow. I don’t know if Lauren touched my stuff or what, and I won’t confront her about it, not unless it happens again.
I am not a doormat, and I won’t be walked over. Nothing is missing, but that doesn’t mean I’m all right with someone going through my stuff. No way.
My phone rings, and I grimace until I realize it’s Robyn and not my mom. Not that I don’t want to talk to my mom. I will. Soon. Tonight at some point. Or maybe not. It’s probably too late for us to talk as it is. I can’t forget about the time difference, but for now…
“Hey, Robyn.”
“Well, you did it. You survived your first day. How about we head off campus to eat?”
“Is the food here that bad?”
“No, actually. It’s really good, but I’m going a little stir-crazy here.”
“Already?”
“Yeah. I’m rooming with my third roommate in three years, and I have got to say that… yeah… It’ll just be you and me, okay? How does that sound?”
“I’m good with that.”
“Do you want to drive, or should I?”
“You know the area a lot better than I do,” I say.
“True. Do you like Mexican food?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Perfect. I know just the place. Be outside your dorm in five minutes.”
Not even five minutes later, Robyn swings by. I expected her car to be nice considering her dad is a college professor, and it is rather sweet. I’ve ever been a big car girl, so I don’t recognize what it is until she pulls up right in front of me. A Lexus of some kind.
Robyn glances over after I climb in. “Buckle up.”
Bit surprised that she’s insisting, I go ahead and listen, and it takes two point four seconds for me to realize why she made me buckle up, and I wish it was even tighter because Robyn has a serious lead foot. I’m talkingserious.
It takes us ten minutes to reach the restaurant, but I have a feeling it would’ve taken me close to double. Crazy. And I’m not the slowest driver either, but I guess Robyn just likes to get to places as quickly as possible. Still strikes me as ridiculous, but I’m not going to complain.
We head on inside. The place is packed already. I don’t mind that at all. In fact, I always take that to be a good sign, that the restaurant is one that so many people want to go to that they’re willing to stick around and wait forever to be seated.
Despite the overly crowded vestibule area, we’re called back within twenty minutes, if that, well before a lot of the couples and groups who were waiting when we first arrived. Robyn seems to have connections.
We’re brought over to a small table near the middle of the dining area. Robyn orders a strawberry margarita and eyes me, nodding. She’s not carded, but she’s older than I am. She could possibly be twenty-one, or maybe she just won’t be asked to show proof of her age. I can’t risk it. Back on campus is one thing, but here?
“I’ll just take a Cherry Coke,” I say.
Robyn snickers as the waitress walks away. “Here I thought you would like to live large.”
“I’m not going to risk making waves—”
“Making waves is important,” Robyn says. “Don’t conform. Be yourself.”
“Maybe myself doesn’t like tequila.”