“How the hell did you know that?”
“Lucky guess.” She rolls her eyes, making me and Zoe giggle.
“Well, I’ll do it. You’re welcome.” He folds his hands behind his head and wears a shit-eating grin.
“Thanks for your help. I wouldn’t want to have to watch it myself.” I pretend to gag, and the girls laugh while Dean only shakes his head.
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Oh, I haven’t missed anything. I’ve watched that movie. I just don’t wanna watch it again.” I offer a shrug. “To each their own.”
“I think we are missing the point here.” Of course, Posey would be the one to bring us all back around. “We’re going to have to research different eras. Prohibition is a big one. Then there were all kinds of turf wars. Money laundering fronts. Trafficking rings. How do those activities affect communities and society as a whole?” I can’t help but feel more interested in the project as she goes on. Call me a nerd, but I love learning about stuff like this.
“You know, I did see a TV documentary once that said Prohibition was what brought organized crime to the forefront in the US. If it hadn’t been for that, they might have had to find a foothold someplace else, in another industry.”
“Then you would be perfect to continue the research on that era. If you’re interested.”
“Sure. That would be great.” I type a quick note on my laptop. I’m actually looking forward to it. God, no wonder it’s so hard for me to make friends. Though really, now that we’ve been sitting around and chatting for a minute or two, it seems dumb that I was ever nervous. This isn’t high school. And I’m not the poor girl anymore. I need to remember that.
“Maybe we should all get together and talk about this after class,” Dean suggests. “Maybe we could all hang out at my place tonight. I was going to the Pi Beta party, but we could always pregame there before heading over.”
Zoe bursts out laughing, swatting at him. “Wow, slick.”
“Yeah, way to invite three girls over to your place so we can drink.” Posey rolls her eyes. “Amateur.”
“Have a little more faith in me,” he begs, his eyes landing on me. “Well, are you going to bust my balls, too? Come on, I can take it.”
“You better be careful, or somebody would say you have a fetish for getting your balls busted.” Posey bursts out laughing and high-fives me before the instructor shoots a warning look our way. We’re definitely the loudest group in the room.
“I was opening my home to three lovely young ladies,” Dean explains in a prim little voice. “And as any good host would, I’ve offered the contents of my liquor cabinet to my guests.”
“That’s fine, but let’s leave the whole study group pretense out of it, yeah?” We exchange a smile, and it occurs to me he’s pretty cute. One of those all-American boy faces with a square jaw and big, blue eyes. The little bit of hair peeking out from under his cap is the color of wheat. And when he smiles, he flashes dimples that threaten to make my heart flutter.
This is getting more interesting by the second.
A sudden, jarring cough from the back of the room makes me jump. That asshole. God for-fucking-bid, I smile at a guy. I won’t look at him; I absolutely will not give him the satisfaction of knowing he caught my attention.
If Dean noticed, he doesn’t show it. “Does that mean you would come over anyway?”
“Um, we’re supposed to be talking about the project,” Zoe reminds us. I get the feeling she doesn’t like the way Dean is focused on me. Posey, on the other hand, is in her own world, typing notes faster than I’ve ever been able to type anything on my keyboard. She’s not even looking at the keys. If we weren’t the same age, I’d say I want to be her when I grow up.
“Of course we are.” I know better than to promise things I can’t follow through on, and the fact is, I might talk a big game, but I don’t know how much I can get away with. Not yet. “I hate to say it, but if we’re going to get together to talk about our progress, I might have to ask for, like, Zoom calls or a group chat or something. For now, anyway.”
“Right. Frankenstein wouldn’t want you out of his sight, would he?” Dean shoots a look toward the back of the room, where I know Zeke is probably glaring straight back at him. I didn’t know I had this much self-control, enough to keep me from craning my neck to see Zeke’s reaction for myself. I can almost feel the rage coming from him, though, all the way across the room. He doesn’t want me for himself, but nobody else can have me, either. It’s disgusting.
But what Dean said is right, even if I don’t like it. “Yeah, things are a little weird. We’re still kind of getting our footing. I don’t think my dad really understood what he was asking him to do before he sent us here.”
“Parents never understand,” Posey agrees, nodding slowly. “Mine think college is the way it used to be back when they went. So what if that was, like, all the way back in the 90s.” Dean and Zoe both grunt their agreement.
It occurs to me I don’t know if my dad went to college. I don’t know much about him at all. Not that I haven’t tried to find out what I can, but he’s not exactly Mr. Warm and Fuzzy. If he ever sat down with me for a heart-to-heart the way they do on sitcoms, I’d probably faint.
“Fine. Maybe let’s do a Zoom call in a few days after we think about our era and what we’re researching.” The three of us nod at Dean’s suggestion. What a relief. I was afraid things would start getting weird if any of them insisted on me going out with them. Not that I don’t want to. I’m just not sure I could manage it, and I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.
I don’t think I’ve ever resented Zeke the way I do now. Not even at the party when he made a big scene of dragging me out like he owns me. It was one thing when I was actually going against his rules, but now he’s dictating my decisions without lifting a finger. He’s in my head.
“No, you know what? If you want to get together tonight or sometime this weekend, I’ll make it work.” I’m not going to be the poor, pitiful girl everybody feels sorry for. And I’m not going to let Zeke rule my decisions.
Dean’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What do you think?” He looks at the girls, both of whom shrug.