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She observed her reflection in the not quite full-length mirror that hung against the closet door.
The leggings were a Christmas gift from Alex, tags still attached. She felt naked in the form-fitting cotton and spandex. Her usual flared jeans maintained some degree of modesty. Kenna reached for a pair on the shelf but stopped. She studied herself in the mirror, without scrutinizing the strange pants, and was in awe over the woman she saw.
Loose waves had transformed her straight hair, courtesy of the bun. The oversized sweater draped appealingly. Though she had skipped cosmetics while getting ready for class, her skin flushed with a rosy glow. Kenna saw someone who was beautiful, young, and capable.
Someone who didn’t need anyone else.
7
RORSCHACH’S SHEETS
A row of oversized wooden booths occupied the left wall of The Rusted Monkey and an event space occupied the right. It was a galley-style bar. Narrow but not small.
Fairy lights weaved through the network of exposed pipes gracing the ceiling, casting a minimal yellow glow on the bar’s interior. Kenna had passed the storefront hundreds of times, but had never set foot in the establishment. Music blared through the speakers and a dull headache graced her skull as she brushed shoulders with patrons.
The sounds, the people, the lights. It was overwhelming. Unfamiliar.
She rarely found herself downtown after dark. Her visits downtown were limited to cramming in extra study time at Bigleaf Coffee Company, but her avoidance of social situations was unrelated to her 4.0. Reid had left her with more than a broken heart. Fear. Mistrust. Though her heart had healed, his other parting gifts remained. She was done with that flickering apprehension.
Tonight, she played by a new set of rules.
Will’s stiff hair peeked over a chestnut booth and gave away the team’s location. She shook off her nerves and fashioned a faint wave as she closed in on them.
Brandi sprang to her feet, drawing her in for a hug. Her mass of tight onyx curls tickled Kenna’s cheek and her raspy voice squealed, “I’m so glad you came. It’s been forever.”
Part of her wondered if Brandi was genuinely excited to see her, or if she was thankful to have one extra person around to detract from the horror that was Will Morris.
“How’s photography going?”
She cupped her ear. “What?”
The music had grown so loud, the bass vibrated through her chest.
“Photography.”
“Ah, I switched majors.” One gold-shadowed lid shut and she scrunched up her face before a thousand-watt smile broke out. “Poli-Sci. I kept photography as my minor, though. I figure if nothing else pans out, I could shoot someone’s campaign. You’re still in psych, right?”
“Yeah, I—”
“We’re here, too.” Will gestured with his beer bottle.
Brandi and Kenna exchanged knowing looks but uttered no complaint as they joined Rebecca on the ladies’ side of the booth.
The guy seated next to Will extended his hand over the table toward Kenna and they shook. “Liam.”
He seemed more tolerable than Will. At the very least, he was polite, which was a huge step up.
“You know what, I think we’ve met.”
She studied his face, waiting for any shred of recognition. “Freshman lit, right?” But I thought your name was—”
“Sung-min? Yeah. Liam’s my middle name. I’ve gone by it since high school and it sort of stuck.”
As a psychology major, Kenna often caught herself analyzing people’s speech and behavior. She couldn’t help but feel stifling his identity was an effort to fit in.
“I like Sung-min, but Liam’s fine, too.” She smiled.
Liam returned the smile without looking at her.
