The house is a medium shade of blue, with stone siding that hits the bottom of the windows. It was built in the fifties but has largely been redone, however evidence of its age remains in some of the details like the short and steep descent of the stairs leading into the basement and the large, detached carport, but it’s been cared for and updated nicely, and at this point, I’d be content sleeping on that futon in a tiny apartment.
I grab two more bags, and the others follow suit. “It’s a trek from campus,” Hudson says.
“About fifteen minutes,” I say.
“Without traffic,” he counters. The one thing that pisses Peters off above all else is when someone is late. I could drop a pass, and trip over my own damn two feet without a defensive player in sight, and my being late would still be a worse offense. Two years ago when we were freshmen, Jamal Smith was playing for Camden as a first-string running back. He was easily the best running back in the league, guaranteed to go pro—until he showed up late one too many times and Peters fucked him over by refusing to let him start. Jamal traded teams, which forced him to redshirt a year, and never made the draft—may never make the draft.
The fact that a single action—a single person—can have that much influence over another person’s life scares the shit out of me. It always has.
The front door opens, and Hadley appears, her dark hair tied up. She looks nervous, borderline skittish as she lingers there. I’m waiting for her to make the excuse about the textbook again when there’s a scream behind me.
Mila is nearly in the bushes to avoid the spider Hadley had avoided.
“Shit!” Evelyn nearly stumbles, noticing it as well.
Palmer steps closer, examining its yellow and black striped legs. “Damn. That is a big one.”
“That’s what she said,” I say, setting my bags down and grabbing a stick.
“Don’t touch it!” Mila says. “That thing will take your arm off.”
I glance at Palmer, dirty jokes lining up in my head like a damn playlist, begging to be heard. He chuckles, clearly thinking the same damn thing.
“Sorry about that,” Hadley says.
I collect the spider and its large web. “Why are you apologizing for mother nature?”
Hadley glances at me, and I can tell by the exasperated expression she likely apologizes for most things she has no control over. A people-pleaser tendency. I know because that was me until recently.
“You were at the coffee shop,” Evelyn says, looking at Hadley. “The Spiced Chai.”
Hadley turns her gaze to Evelyn and smiles the same shy and courteous expression she gave me this morning in the kitchen.
“I’m Evelyn.” She glances at where I’m moving the spider before moving closer to the door. “You’re friends with Nolan?”
“She’s one of my new roommates,” I say. “This is Hadley.”
Hadley lifts a hand, offering a vague wave.
“Hadley, this is Hudson, Mila, and Palmer,” I introduce the others. “Evelyn’s from the Southwest, too.”
Evelyn draws her chin back. “What area are you from?”
“Vegas.”
“Albuquerque,” Evelyn says, pointing at her chest. “Have you gotten used to the humidity, yet?”
“God no. I’m convinced even the locals haven’t adapted to it.”
Evelyn grins, before glancing at Mila who looks mildly intrigued. Emotions war in my chest at their obvious approval, clouding the waters between Hadley being someone I’m cordial with and someone I might spend time with and get to know.
“Watch your step,” Hadley says, pointing at the cement stairs that lead up to the porch. “That first one catches people.” She backs into the house and pulls the door open wide for us to enter.
Mila releases a low whistle as she gazes around the foyer and living room off to our right which is filled with light gray furniture and bright orange details. “Okay. I get it. I would rather stay here than in the dorms, too.” She turns to Evelyn. “Maybe we should have looked at renting a house?”
Evelyn shakes her head. “Don’t get any ideas. Our lease isn’t up until August.”
“You guys haven’t even finished unpacking,” Hudson adds.