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I sleep like crap and dream about Kodiak lounging in that freaking velvet chaise—except in the dream he’s clothed and I’m the one who’s naked, straddling his lap, my classmates sketching us as he tells me over and over that he’ll never love me.
Even in my dreams I’m pathetic.
I don’t head home until early afternoon on Friday. Lacey and Lovey tell me I can stay over again, but there’s a sorority party, and Dylan might be there. I’d like to avoid him for as long as I can.
When I enter my house, BJ’s passed out in the recliner—I think he likes it more than his own bed. Three guys fill the leather couch, wearing what are probably wet swim shorts, drinking beers, and playing video games. One of them is Quinn. He’s not here often. He’s getting his master’s in physical therapy. He’s a second round pick based on his reputation, since his anger issues are a red flag for the scouts.
One of the guys calls out to me, and Quinn shoots him a glare that would make me pee myself if I didn’t know him. “She’s a Waters. Do not talk to her unless you want to lose precious body parts.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t castrate anyone on my behalf. Blood is really hard to get out of the carpet.”
“I’d do it in the backyard to avoid the mess.” He gives me a wink and brings the bottle to his lips, tipping his head back and draining the contents.
“Not sure if I should be grateful or concerned that you’ve already thought that through.” I salute him, grab a box of Lucky Charms from the cupboard—checking to make sure it’s not one of the three I’ve already eaten all the marshmallows out of—and hoof it up to my room. I lock the door and shove in my earbuds, pulling up a heavy album to drown out the music blasting from the outdoor speaker.
I move across the room and run my fingers over the satin-and-velvet skirt hanging from my dress form. It’s a project for my costume and set design class. It isn’t due for another month, but since I love sewing more than Lucky Charms, I started it right away.
It’s complex and layered, with lots of ruching, an intricate lace overlay, and detailed bead work. I’m in the middle of a particularly tricky part when there’s a knock on my door. I’m inclined to ignore it, but the knocking continues—two raps, a pause, one rap. It’s River.
I finish the line of stitching, set the dress aside, push my chair back, and stand slowly. My shoulders are sore from hunching over, and my right foot is stiff. I hobble to the door and open it a crack.
“Hey, can I come in?” He looks over my head, as if he’s expecting someone to be in here with me.
The only people who come up to my room are Lovey and Lacey, and that’s only happened a couple of times.
“Sure. ’Sup?”
He steps inside my room and closes the door behind him. His expression is pensive, and serious, as it is most of the time. “This kinda sucks for you, doesn’t it?”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he just stands there, frowning. “My earbuds drown most of the noise out,” I finally say. I have to assume he’s referring to the party happening downstairs and outside.
“I don’t mean the noise. Well, I do mean the noise. But it’s more than that. It’s everything—all the jocks, the girls, the people, the mess.”
I shrug. The mess isn’t much of an issue. River and Mav aren’t the tidiest, but we have a cleaner who comes every Monday.
I sigh and thread my fingers through his, squeezing. “I don’t need to be babied, River. I can handle the parties and the noise and everything that comes with it. I might not want to participate all the time, but I don’t mind being a silent observer. This is normal college-kid behavior. And we have a sweet house with a pool, and you and Maverick have lots of friends. I don’t want you to think you have to shoo everyone away because you’re worried about me.”
He flips my hand over and skims the faint crescent scars, most of them faded. “I feel like a shitty brother. I’m the one who pushed you to move in with us, and I’m hardly here. And when I am, there are always people to entertain, and you’re stuck up here.”
“It’s my choice to be up here.”
He nods, but I can tell he wants to say more. Instead, he drops his head and sighs. “I’m going over to a friend’s house tonight, and I’m probably gonna stay there.”
“A friend?” I quirk a brow.
“I’m not feeling the party vibe, and I have practice tomorrow morning.” He’s focused on his fingernails.
