“And that worked?” I laugh.
“Like a charm.”
“So did your wingwoman-ing,” I acknowledge with a smirk.
We pull up to the pharmacy. I park the car. She gasps as I open my door.
“Oh my God, what if you’re pregnant?”
“That’s what we’re here for. Plan B. Come on.”
I get out of the car and walk toward the entrance. Behind me, Madison yells, “I thought we were here for snacks.”
Half an hour later, with dozens of posters of baby-faced Harry Styles as my witnesses, I swallow my pill with a large glass of water. I had kind of a jump scare this morning when I was confronted by so many Harrys on my side of the room and SuperWhoLock on Madison’s. Also, so much teal. Bright, vivid,loudteal. It’s… a lot.
I need to redecorate.
Or maybe I’ll lean in—hard to decide.
“Are you gonna see him again?” Madison asks, watching me with fascination.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “We didn’t make any plans, but I gave him my number.”
“I’m supposed to go to their room to watch season two with Patrick on Saturday. Maybe you could join.”
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll bring it up when he texts me,” I tell her.
I’m not worried about it. This is Ellie. I know he’ll text.
By Friday, it feels like my cell phone is mocking me. Ellie still hasn’t texted, and it’s all I can think about whether I’m in my room, in the dining hall with Madison, or in class.
Andugh, my classes.
They’re so boring. I AP-tested out of a lot of gen-eds, so I’m mostly in introductory business classes. Maybe I should be grateful I don’t have to stress about school on top of the crisis that is my romantic life, but unfortunately that also means they provide zero distraction.
“I hope I didn’t come across as too awkward, but I’m such a mess in interviews,” Madison laments.
We walk through the quad, having just grabbed lunch between classes.
“I’m sure you did great,” I assure her, but I’ve been zoning out, and I think Madison is starting to notice.
“Do you know how hard it is to convince someone that the skills I developed babysitting are transferable to working in a library?”
“Why is it hard? They both involve keeping a sharp eye out for mischief. Wrangling people. Gently chastising. You have to be stern but considerate of delicate feelings. And aren’t college students just like big toddlers, anyway?”
“Oh, that’s good. That’s so good—next time, I’m sending you to interview in my place.”
“I bet you did better than you think you did.”
Iknowshe did, because Madison worked at the library for the entirety of undergrad.
Madison continues to fret, but I’m too distracted by a sensory memory to hear her.
Watermelon. Scented. Vapor.
