I look back at Evan and the reality hits me so hard that I almost fall right onto my ass.
Evan Branson is the only person in our cohort I can evenconsidera friend. I’ve never made much of an effort with anyone else in our class and it took me longer than it should have to put a name to Tiffany’s face. I’ve been so focused on arguing with him in class, and then hanging out with Kennedy and Wren, that I don’t even know half the people here.
Evancannotbe the only person from NU that I stay in contact with after we graduate.
I need to change that immediately.
“Text me the details,” I say to Tiffany. “I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN: EVAN
I’ve been staring at the ceiling of my hotel room for the last four hours and I still can’t sleep.
After the mixer, I went straight back to my room, showered and read for a while. I thought after I got a few chapters down, naturally I’d fall asleep. But that didn’t happen. Instead, I’m left trying to pinpoint the exact moment I became an anxious, uptight, stressed mess.
I know I should go to the bar and socialize. It would be a step toward really throwing myself into college life, and getting back in with B&Co. My dad’s been checking in on me every week, subtly asking me what I’ve been up to and if I’ve done any real socializing.
But I don’t do bars. I don’t do parties. The mixer earlier was tough, but it wasn’t too bad being with Scarlett. She took the lead on a lot of things, making it easier for me to focus, but it’s still taken me all this time to self-regulate. I’ve gotten so much better at masking over the years. It’s easier to pretend that germs and disrupted plans don’t bother me as much when I’m around other people. I’m good at pretending I’m like them. That I can be a regular guy and experience the world just like everyone else does.
Deep down, I know that I’m different. I’ve known that since I was a kid, and my mom did nothing but remind me how difficult it was to raise me. But I’m past that. I’m better now.
So why can’t I just get out of this room and have fun tonight?
I flip over my pillow to the cold side, fluffing it until I’m satisfied, and lie back down. I just need to keep still. Maybe then I’ll get bored of my own thoughts and finally get to sleep.
Just as I close my eyes, my phone rings on the bedside table. I consider ignoring it before I see the unknown caller ID. I swipe answer, holding my phone to my ear, waiting for the person on the other end to speak first.
“Evan?” the voice asks, and it takes a few seconds for me to recognize who it is.
“Tiffany? Is everything okay?” I ask, rubbing my hand against my forehead.
“It’s Scarlett.”
My heartbeat picks up in my chest, a tight, achy feeling weighing down on me. “What happened? Is she okay?”
Tiffany sighs on the other end, and the loudness of the bar around her is muffled like she’s moved to a quieter place. “She’s . . . fine, I think. Just very, very drunk. I thought you were here with her, but you’re not and she’s refusing to talk to anyone.”
“What? Why?”
She sighs again. “She got into an argument with Michaela and they kind of blew up at each other. They both said some pretty nasty stuff and Michaela left, but it doesn’t look like Scarlett’s going anywhere.”
I pinch my eyes tight, trying to make sense of this.
Scarlett Voss arguing isn’t new. But that’s usually something she does with me in a classroom, not with anyone else. Especially not in public. “I don’t know,” Tiffany continues, “I’m worried about her, but she won’t speak to me, so I thought you’d . . . you know.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
She lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I’ll text you the address.”
I hang up the call and stare back at the ceiling.
I can’t believe how quickly I agreed to that, and how am I even going to make it into that bar without panicking. But I have to. I’ve done it before, and it didn’t kill me.
I can do this. I’ll be in and out. I’ll find her, take her back to her room and then I can be alone again for the rest of the night.
It’ll be easy.
The bar isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
