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“Hey, Josiah, how’s it going?” He has a hickey on his neck that he’s trying to hide with a collared Harry Potter polo.
“Good. You?” He flops down in the chair next to mine.
“That, sir, is a loaded question.”
“Uh-oh. What new drama has unfolded in the House of Jocks?”
Josiah lives in an apartment off campus with a roommate named Ali who’s in the engineering program and is pretty much always studying at the library or over at his girlfriend’s place.
I give him the pared-down version of events—i.e., me being tired of the bullshit. “I moved into the dorms yesterday.”
His eyes flare. “Brothers still being overprotective, then?”
“Yup.”
“That Kodiak guy still being an ass?”
“Also yup.”
“Dude needs to get a clue. How was your first night in the dorms?”
“My roommate brought a hockey player home and banged him in the living room.”
“Classy. Wait, how do you know it was a hockey player?” His eyes light up. “Did he say things like let me show you my stick-handling skills?”
I snicker. “No, I ran into him in the bathroom this morning. He’s been to my brothers’ parties before.”
Josiah makes a face. “That’s awkward.”
“Truer facts have never been spoken.” I know my roommate’s sex sounds, and I haven’t even met her. I poke his neck. “This looks fresh. Potential relationship material or a hookup?”
“Probably a hookup. He’s still in the this-is-just-a-phase style of thinking.” Josiah rubs the spot and looks away. Obviously there’s more to it, but I don’t want to push. “How’s math going?”
I flip the book shut. “I currently have 48 percent in the class and a big test next week that I’m hoping to pass. But unless I can get a handle on this stuff, there’s no way that’s going to happen.”
“Want me to have a look?”
“Sure.” I pass him the textbook and flip to the review section for the upcoming test. “I have a ton of practice questions, and every single one is wrong.”
He skims through the pages. “I thought when you said you had a math course, you meant actual math, not macroeconomics. I took this last year, so I can probably help you out if you want.”
“Are you sure you have time for that? I’d like to say I’ll pick it up fast, but I probably won’t. Me and numbers have a hate-hate relationship.”
“Yeah. For sure. I need to keep my mind off this.” He taps the hickey. “And helping a friend would be a great distraction.”
I hug his biceps. “I am super willing to be your distraction, but you may regret offering to help me.”
He chuckles. “You can’t be that bad. And I would’ve offered sooner if I’d realized I could actually be of some help.”
“You underestimate me, my friend, and you may very well be glad you didn’t offer sooner.”
We gather our things and head to costume and set design class. Since I’ve already handed in my costume project, I’m working on some of the set design pieces for the fall play. I’m mindlessly painting a brick wall, listening to music, when my professor drops into a crouch beside me.
I pop my earbuds out. “I’m sorry. I was totally lost in my own world.”
“No need to apologize, Lavender. Do you have time to meet with me after class?”
“Uh, sure. Is everything okay?” My mouth is suddenly dry, and I have the urge to wring my hands. I hope I didn’t screw up my costume project. Maybe it’s not as good as I thought.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “Nothing to worry about. But there’s an opportunity I’d like to discuss with you. It won’t take long, and I think you’ll be pleased.”
At the end of class, Josiah and I make plans to meet later in the afternoon for tutoring, and I let Lacey and Lovey know I have to bail on lunch, but I’ll catch up with them later. My palms are sweaty by the time I reach Professor Martin’s office. I pop a mint and take a deep breath before I knock on her door.
“Lavender, come on in.” She motions to the empty chair beside her desk.
Posters cling to the walls, books line the shelves, and costume pieces hang from a rack in the corner. It’s chaotic and visually overwhelming, but I love it. Kodiak would lose his mind in here. I tell my brain to shut up, because he’s the last person I’d like to think about right now.
I take a seat and clasp my hands in my lap so I don’t do what my mom always calls the “otter rub,” where it looks like I’m trying to warm up my hands by rubbing them over each other incessantly.
She gives me a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering what this is about.”
I nod and manage a quiet yes.
“I wanted to talk to you about your costume project.”
“Oh.” A million worries rain down on me.
