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Chapter 24
Astrid
Charlotte uses flashlight mode to guide us through the basement, dodging old boxes and furniture piled up in precarious makeshift columns. She opens a narrow wooden door in the farthest corner, and we step inside what looks like an old-fashioned restroom with a separate toilet and a sitting room. The first room we enter has an old yellow couch, a tall freestanding locker, and a full-length mirror. The second room has a toilet stall and a pedestal sink.
I ignore the mirror as she leads me into the bathroom.
“You can clean yourself up in here, or at least aim for presentable.” She plops down on the couch. “You only talk to Roni. You don’t talk to us. Or someone would’ve told you that the guys here are a bunch of horny assholes.”
“You make it sound like I’m stuck-up,” I call out over the running water in the sink. It’s cold, but I’m grateful to have anything to wash myself up with.
She sucks her teeth. “Because you are.” She steps into the doorway and watches me trying to scrub Justin’s mess off my shirt. She reaches for my hand. “Don’t stress. I’ll loan you something to wear. Just fix yourself so we can go upstairs.” She points to my hair.
“Why are you being nice?” I ask her.
“Because I choose to be,” she replies, “I could be a bitch, say mean things, and make you cry. And some girls do that. I hope you’re not one of them.”
I shut off the water. “I’ve never talked shit about you.”
She nods her head. “I know.”
Charlotte opens a locked cabinet and hands me two old-fashioned metal keys. “Use this and stop putting that stick in the door. Wren Thorton, in room four, is terrified someone will break in. So stop.”
“I don’t do that,” I sound sheepish.
Charlotte smirks. “No, but you used to.”
She locks the bathroom door, and I follow her up to our floor. I start to walk past her door, but Charlotte grabs my arm and pulls me back. “You want to wake your roommate and tell her about your night?” She glances down. “You have delightful tits, and it’s obvious that you’re not wearing a bra.”
I follow Charlotte into her room, and I look around for a second bed. There’s a purple velvet couch in its place.
“You don’t share a room?” I gasp as if this is the big news of the night.
She shakes her head. “I don’t like to share, and I made that clear in the sixth grade.”
A chill runs through me, and Charlotte must notice me shiver. She can’t know what Bryce said tonight. I continue looking around her room that matches a top post on Instagram. Her bed with a mesh canopy is against one wall, and her cherry wood desk is pushed near the windows. She has a tall bookcase where the roommate’s closet would have been. Charlotte walks over to the opposite closet and pulls open the door. My eyes pop when I see all the clothes.
“Where did you get all that from?” I ask, my jaw slack with wonder. “Do you own a store?”
She laughs and pulls out a denim shirt with a slim waist that snaps up the front and a pair of wide jeans. She hands them to me. “You can change in the bathroom if you’re shy. I’d loan you underwear, but that’s sort of gross.”
I step into the bathroom, and it looks nothing like the other bathrooms on campus. It’s decorated in lavender with gold accents to match; even the wall has gold swirls. I put on the shirt, which fits me perfectly, and the jeans are sherpa-lined. Comfy isn’t a word I use, but this outfit is so comfy and smells so fresh. I want it.
I step out of the bathroom, and Charlotte has changed out of her street clothes and is sitting on her bed wearing a tie-dyed two-piece. She points to the couch, where she’s draped a fake fur throw, and continues brushing her hair.
“So, who’s responsible?” she asks.
“What?” My eyes widen.
She pauses and shakes her head. “Who made you cry tonight? Which brat boy did it?”
I hesitate, unsure how far I should trust Charlotte. Maybe she’s being nice so she can talk shit about me later. Girls do that shit. It’s a universal truth.
“I’ve slept with all of them,” she continues you, “Well, I exaggerate. I’ve touched the ones whose families are worth at least ten billion. Any lower than that, and we can only be friends but nothing else. All the girls on the floor have standards. It’s like an agreement. You trust the boys because you’re as rich as they are. But you’re not. So what happened?”
I take a deep breath and a leap of faith, hoping I’ll survive the fall. “I want to be a member of the Investors Club. Bryce, Justin, and Pierce were there. Wyatt showed up later, but he wasn’t involved. They said I had to perform a task, and then I could be a member.”
Charlotte pinched up her nose. “Why do you want to join that?”
