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Not that she realizes. Or maybe she doesn’t care.
“I’m Mary.” She waves and then tugs on the loop of Bobby’s jeans as she glances toward the back of the suite where the bedrooms are.
Girl knows what she wants.
“See ya, man.”
The couple disappears, their exit emphasized by a door slamming.
Nathan stands up smoothly, grabbing my empty mug on the way. “Sorry about that. He didn’t used to be such an asshole.”
I follow him to the kitchen. “What happened? Did he get bit by a radioactive asshole spider or something?”
Nathan snorts. “Nah. He just started going to the gym more often at the end of last year. Lost some weight, gained some muscle. Girls are interested in him now, and he’s living it up.”
Instead of grabbing the milk from the fridge for another round of drinks, he rinses our mugs out and leaves them in the sink. The sting of disappointment is so strong that I rub my sternum. I thought we were having a fun time.
“You don’t want any more?” I pluck the bag of cocoa mix off the counter, trying not to sound desperately hopeful. But I can’t help it. This is the most fun I’ve had on a Friday night this whole year, and I’m scared that when it’s over, I’ll have to go back to my boring loner existence.
This past year, I’ve been fighting off the crushing loneliness of not having any close friends—or even casual friends—to spend my time with. All the hours Alexis and I spent together don’t seem to matter to her now that she has Mitchell. My other two roommates are members of the field hockey team and only spend enough time in our dorm to shower after practice before they’re off again.
Trying to branch out, I went to the first meeting of the university’s book club back in the beginning of the fall. When suggestions were asked for, I pulled out some of my favorite novels that Stella had given me.
“Vampires? Seriously? We’re not in high school anymore.”
After that comment—from the president of the club, no less—I officially felt unwelcome.
Then, there was the party where I couldn’t find any nonalcoholic beverages to drink, and twenty minutes in, some sweaty guy decided to use my favorite sneakers as barf target practice. No one wants to have anything to do with the girl who smells like vomit.
So, my attempts at socialization were rebuffed or ended in disaster.
But I’m a strong, independent woman, I reasoned.Who cares if I don’t have a tribe of people here?
College is a blip on the screen of my life. I’ll be done in no time. When I want to talk to someone, I can FaceTime with one of my childhood best friends. That’s all I need to get through the next few years.
I almost had myself convinced. But being home last week for the wedding, surrounded by relatives and hometown friends, I got a strong sense of belonging. It made me realize how depressed I’d started to become here, hours away from my loved ones with no surrogate family in sight. Even though I enjoy my classes and the Virginia weather greets me like a warm blanket, those aren’t enough anymore.
I need more from the place I’m living in. I need a tribe.
But Nathan shakes his head. “Better not. You won’t want—”
Whatever he’s about to say gets cut off by a loud male moan that is barely muted by the wall in between us and his roommate’s bedroom. When a female gasp follows right after, Nathan winces, his eyes apologetic.
Suddenly, I understand his rushed clean-up and have to press my knuckles against my lips to keep the laughter inside.
“Now, you know why I study in the library all the time.” He hurries back to the main room, scooping up my bag and holding it on his shoulder while I tie the laces on my sneakers.
My fingers quiver from contained giggles, making my knots sloppy. Once we’re out the door, I let the laughter flow free.
“Poor Lucifer.” I pat his shoulder as the chuckles shade my falsely sympathetic words. “The sex noises too loud for you to concentrate?”
When I go to slip my fingers under the strap so I can take my bag from him, he bats my hand away.
“I’ve got it, Shorty. And, yes, actually. It’s not easy to plan a lesson for six-year-olds when your roommate is plowing away on the other side of the wall. Surprisingly, those two things don’t mix.”
I give up trying to get my bag back, instead tucking my hands into my sweatshirt pouch to keep them warm in the coolness of the spring night.
“Too bad they don’t get sex ed at that age. Then, it’d be perfect inspiration.”
