AllFreeNovel
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“I’ll ride bitch. I’d rather zone out on my phone than watch you two sneak glances at each other or whatever in the rearview mirror.”
A snort jerks my head. “We’re not that lovesick.”
What’s nice about fake dating my best friend’s sister—as far as she knows—is that things don’t feel that different when we’re hanging out. Other than his pissy groans when I kiss her in front of him. Worth it.
“You don’t have to look at the two of you when you’re around each other. For real, I don’t know how I didn’t see you were hooking up before.” Tatum tenses, blood draining from her face. I curb the urge to react, keeping my face blank. Jackson shakes his head. “Like, you’re so obvious, even when you’re trying to be sneaky.”
Tatum lets out a nervous laugh. “Okay, so don’t keep so many tabs on us, stalker.”
I rest my hand over the wheel when we climb in the front. “Did you have a smoothie for breakfast?”
She nods and flexes her cute little biceps that have nothing on mine. “Oatmeal, banana, and almond for energy.”
“So a pit stop for breakfast burritos because I can see you bouncing in your seat with excitement from here. You’ll burn off the energy boost before we even get there. I won’t have you getting hangry on my watch.”
Feeding Tate is a must. She’s a hellacious terror when she’s starving.
“Yeah,” Jackson agrees from the backseat.
She opens and closes her mouth, conceding with a mumbled response. I grin as I back the Jeep out. I know her better than she knows herself some days.
The salty breeze shifts her hair as she makes a face at her phone camera, snapping a few photos. I catch a hint of that coconut scent I love.
“Marking the moment for your memories?”
Tate drags her fingers through her hair to hold it from the open windows and beams at me. “Yup. Me and Simone are sending them to each other. We’re making a move in day scrapbook in a bullet journal we’re sharing this semester to keep up with each other while we expand our horizons.”
“You’re acting like you’re never going to see her,” Jackson says from the back. “She’s your best friend. You’re both basically stuck to each other like barnacles all the time.”
Tatum ignores her brother’s grumbling tone. “Of course I’ll see her. We both agreed we don’t want to miss opportunities because we have our hearts closed to new friendships. That’s why we’re not rooming together. We still want to maintain our relationship, so that’s where the shared journal comes in.” She fishes it out of a small backpack purse and shows it off. “Plus, our schedules don’t always align since we declared different majors. We only share one required core class together.”
He meets my eye in the rearview mirror and shakes his head. “Chicks are so weird.”
By the time we make it to campus, it’s almost ten and a total madhouse of incoming freshmen arriving with their families. Me and Jackson moved in a few days ago, but only dropped off our things in our shared dorm before heading back home until freshmen were granted access.
Tatum smothers an excited squeal, her laser-focused gaze locked on the bright blue tent announcing itself as the check-in area. She’s basically vibrating on a higher frequency.
“I really wish we’d gotten here when they opened,” she says.
“Not everything goes to plan and that’s okay. Ride with the flow instead of against the tide.” I find an open spot along the unloading curb and snag it. “You head for check-in and we’ll take care of this.”
Tatum jumps out of the Jeep and hustles her way across the quad, slipping between other dazed freshmen staring at the campus buildings like a pro. I watch her with a dopey ass smile I don’t bother hiding.
“We trained her well,” I say. “She knows her way around better than we do.”
Jackson scoffs. “You expect anything less from Tatum? She has the campus memorized. Wipe that look off your face and help me.”
As we get Tatum’s stuff stacked on the curb, I reach into the back seat and slip a bundle of fabric into her overnight duffel to surprise her with later. Her efficient packing makes my chest feel funny and I rub at it.
Everything is organized way better than anyone I’ve seen on campus. Not that I expected any different. It’s Tatum, after all. I picture her researching tips for the best way to pack for college, scanning her overnight bag kept separate from the rest of her clothes, the box packed with school supplies, and the rest of her things neatly arranged. When I first moved to campus for my freshman year, it took me a week to find half of my stuff. She won’t have that problem.
Darting a look her way, I find her chatting animatedly to another wide-eyed freshman. She points to us and waves. It’s not long after when she joins us, blue welcome packet, South Bay College lanyard, and keys to her dorm in hand.
“All set?” I prompt.
She raises the key clutched in her fist. “Yes. Even though the line was long, they kept it moving pretty fast.”
“You two go and I’ll watch this,” Jackson says.
