She swiped her glass and raised her brow at me, leaning back on the counter.
“I didn’t break in,” she argued. “Jon let me in. Then invited me to some party where everyone was going to be dressed like their favorite Disney character.” She sipped her wine. “I’d totally be down for that but his costume told me it was a lot dirtier than he made it seem, and I just couldn’t see my Disney characters treated in such a way. It would scar me for life.”
I sipped my own wine, grinning and happy that the cool liquid was doing its job and relaxing my taut muscles with only one mouthful. Though I worried it would take at least three bottles to relax my taut mind. And only then because it would make me pass out.
“Good call,” I replied. “But what about school? It’s a Monday. Don’t you have classes?”
There was a loaded silence as Polly took a long sip and darted her eyes around mine and Jon’s chicly designed apartment. Luckily we both had the same taste and were into black and white. Even though it was small, it rocked.
“Polly,” I warned as she found our vintage black sofa with a stark white fur throw very fascinating.
She nodded to it. “That better be faux, Lucy,” she warned back. “Do you even know the horrific process poor animals go through to get something people only purchase for vanity?”
I gave her a look. “Of course it’s faux,” I snapped. “I can’t afford the real deal,” I added. “Don’t change the subject. School. Why aren’t you in it?”
She sighed and pushed off the counter, the clicking of her fringed boots echoing as she paced into the living room that was off our small kitchen in the open-plan space.
Polly couldn’t sit still at the best of times. When she was nervous, or trying to avoid a subject, she was like Sonic the Hedgehog. She picked up a matte black candlestick that was sitting on the matte black coffee table, then set it down again.
“Don’t freak out,” she said finally, abandoning her fondling of the décor to focus on me. I didn’t miss the distance she put between as.
Not that I’d physically react to anything, ever, but she seemed to need it.
My face stayed impassive. “The week I’ve had, if I didn’t freak out with any of the other stuff, I won’t freak out with this,” I told her.
She took another sip. Or gulp. “I’m deferring. Taking the semester off. I just don’t know what I want to do and that place is stifling me, you know? Telling me where to be, what time to be there and what to think.”
I gave her a look. “That’s college, Polly,” I said dryly. “Telling you where to be and what time to be there is kind of a necessity for classes. And real life in general. An employer will most likely do that too.”
She sighed at me, fingering the fringes on the printed kimono she wore atop a simple pink dress. “Well, I don’t care. I need something different. I don’t know if college is me.”
“You’ve got a semester left. Figure out what is you after that,” I told her, sounding remarkably like a parent. Then I wondered why my own parents hadn’t called to tell me about this. We collaborated on Polly things. Then, because my skills weren’t top-notch that morning, I only just noticed the large duffle covered in patches.
“Polly. What do Mom and Dad think of this?” I asked evenly.
She bit her lip, looking more than a little sheepish. “Well, they don’t quite know. Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?” I repeated.
“Or not at all,” she corrected. Her eyes went wide in the way she did whenever she wanted something. A character trait of the youngest child in any family, I guessed. “I was hoping you could talk to them.”
I gaped at her. “Me? And why would I talk to them about you dropping out of college when that’s your job.” I paused. “No, your job would be to finish college.”
“I still might,” she exclaimed, sinking onto the sofa and frowning at the throw before thrusting it away from her. “I just… need a break.”
I walked over to sit in the armchair across from the sofa. “And did a guy have anything to do with this sudden need to literally run away from home?” I asked tightly, my eyes on the duffle. I was already thinking of ways to punish said guy.
Her brows narrowed at me. “No,” she protested firmly. She paused. “Well, not entirely,” she murmured.
I put my hand to my forehead. “Fuck, Polly,” I muttered.
“Don’t do that,” she ordered.
I opened the eyes I had just closed. “What?”
She waved her hands in a circle around my face. “The whole ‘Polly has ruined yet another facet of her life again and I now have to go and commit a felony’ kind of face,” she explained. “I know what I’m doing.”