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I shove through the door at the end of the hall and fly down the stairwell. I’m outside and into the parking lot before I slow down. Rasping for air, I round the side of the building and double over, struggling to breathe. I stand for a second before sliding my back down the wall and pulling my knees to my chest. I bury my face and let the tears fall.
CHAPTER 2
“Hey?” The voice is coming from my left. I spot a Chinese Slipper out of the corner of my eye and a long blue skirt. “Are you all right?”
I don’t glance up. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I’ve been sitting on the side of the building for a while. I completely blew off my art class. Great first day. Even if I can make it to my dorm room, I can’t cry there because the roommate from Hell might walk in.
Slipper Girl sits down next to me and gives a gentle laugh. “Dude, you’re a really bad liar.”
“I know.” We both offer up a nervous laugh. I chance it and peek out at her. I know I look terrible. My face is puffy and smeared with makeup. I’m pretty sure my jeans are covered in snot. It’s one of those moments where you wish you had the power of invisibility, but I don’t. And she sees me. I haven’t made a single friend since I got here, so I feel weird actually talking to someone. I give her a weak half-smile.
She pulls her knees into her chest, and wraps her arms around her ankles. The little black slippers stick out from under her skirt. “So, I’m thinking we need emergency ice cream and maybe—a frying pan.”
What? I sit up a little bit and look at her. Slipper Girl has a pretty face and light brown hair that flows like a silky curtain from the top of her head to her waist. It’s really long. “What’s the frying pan for?”
“To smack the guy who made you cry like that on your first day.”
I sniffle and swipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “Oh, I thought we were going to make stir fry.”
She smiles at me. “You can cook?” She reaches into her little woven purse and hands me a tissue.
“Not really. I’m pretty good at burning things and making food that’s easy to cook but tastes really gross. How about you?”
“Eh,” she tilts her hand back and forth. “So-so, but I make some badass cookies. They’re orgasmic. Seriously. I’m the cookie queen.” She laughs and looks bashful, which makes me smile. “So, since cooking dinner sounds less than tasty, there’s this great Chinese place near here. Are you hungry?” The girl tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and motions to a nearby parking lot. “My car is right over there. We could eat and be back before the next class begins. What do you say?”
“I look like a train wreck.”
“Yeah, you don’t know this about me, but I’m not taking no for an answer. Everyone tells me yes. To everything. I’m spoiled rotten.” She grins and flashes all her teeth before standing. Holding out her hand, she says, “Come on. I won’t bite and I have an emergency Guys-Suck pack in my car. It has cookies, Midol, concealer, a baseball cap, and a pack of condoms. We can make balloon animals. I make a mean giraffe.”
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I say, “You had me at orgasmic cookies.”
She laughs and helps me up. “They are. You better be ready, otherwise you’ll be blushing, I’ll have to pretend it isn’t awkward, and we won’t be able to look at each other. That’s pretty lame, right?”
“Yeah, I have enough people to avoid eye contact with right now, anyway.” A small smile spreads across my face, and my cheeks suddenly burn.
“I sense a story, here. What happened? You have to tell me.”
“Nothing,” I hedge, but a smile tugs at my lips and a fresh blush burns under my cheeks.
“You can totally tell me! I won’t say a word.” I follow her to a new white Volvo parked at the back of the lot. She throws her bag in the back seat as I get in on the passenger side. “Oh, dude—my name is Beth. Beth means keeper of secrets.” She shoots me a winning smile and starts the car.
“I’m Kerry.”
“So, spill. What’s your major and all that?” She starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot.
“I’m Kerry Hill, an art major from New York. My boyfriend dumped me this morning via text message, and I was so upset that I mistakenly walked into the men’s bathroom right before class. While there, I bumped into a super-hot guy, saw his, uh—package—and stared. After that, I made friends with the brick wall until you came along. It’s a pretty pathetic first day of college.”
Her jaw drops and she stares at me for way too long. Since we’re in moving traffic, it’s alarming. The girl is the worst driver I’ve ever seen. I’m having trouble not screaming. The light is yellow and about to flip to red and she’s not slowing down. “You have me beat. Beth Gallub from Seattle, the youngest of four siblings, with three overprotective brothers that follow me everywhere. Ten bucks says one of them shows up before your class later. No joke.”
“Awh, you’re the baby.”
“Psh. Yeah. It sucks monkeys, man. What about you? Do you have siblings?”
“Yeah, an older brother and a younger sister.”
“So, you’re the pathologically needy middle child.”
“Psych major?”
