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It was nice having people and being a part of something.
But I guess I had overstayed my welcome. Austin wanted me gone, and if things went sour with Noah, then having my own place wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
I rechecked my phone to see if Noah had texted yet, but there was nothing. And for as much as I tried not to let my thoughts run away, I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. That maybe he was pissed at me.
Pulling up our chat thread, I texted him.
Aurora: Hey, just seeing if you’re done with the team stuff yet? I have some news… the housing office called. My apartment is almost ready.
Noah: That’s great. Not sure I’ll be done anytime soon. Things got a little out of control and we’re knee deep in a gaming tournament. Rain check?
My heart sank.
Aurora: Oh. Okay, sure. I have a ton of studying anyway.
I waited for his reply and waited.
But it never came.
And the pit in my stomach only churned deeper.
By the time I returned home, my inner voice had taken me hostage, spewing cruel, hateful things at me. Maybe Noah was lying. Maybe he was with Sam or some other puck bunny. The house was empty which made sense if the guys were really off doing team stuff.
I wasn’t hungry, but I forced myself to eat a couple of sushi rolls chased down by a bottle of water. Then I headed up to my room and prepared to call Mom. I’d been putting it off since this morning. But I needed to speak to her before Austin made good on his word and called her.
Part of me hoped she wouldn’t answer, but the other part—the part stricken with shame and hurt when Austin had presented her care package to me—was ready for a fight.
She answered on the third ring with an indignant huff. “Aurora, you are alive then.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Mom. I told you last time we spoke I’ve been settling in.”
She hummed with disapproval.
“I got your care package.”
“Oh good, did you take a look at—”
“Why the hell would you send that to me?” I seethed. “Via Austin of all people?”
“Well, you didn’t leave me your address. I had to get it to you somehow. I’ve been worried sick about you, sweetheart. I know how much of a toll freshman year can take on a young woman’s body. I don’t want you to fall back into old habits, Aurora. You need to make sure you’re eating properly and—”
“Mom, stop.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said stop. I didn’t ask for your advice or help, and I certainly didn’t ask you to send me a bunch of diet pills and brochures for—”
“Now, who’s being dramatic, Aurora? I didn’t send them to upset you. I sent them to make you—”
“STOP,” I shrieked, tears of frustration rolling down my cheeks. “Just. Stop.”
“Aurora?”
“This has to end, Mom. I’m not you. I’m never going to be you. And I’m certainly not going to pump myself full of drugs or start having cosmetic surgery to try and be you.”
“But you could be so beautiful, sweetheart. If you just—”
“Just what, Mom?” My voice cracked. Frustration bleeding into heartache. The type of soul-deep pain only someone who is supposed to love you could inflict. “Become somebody else? By dieting to the point of starving myself? Just to lose a few pounds? I have boobs Mom; I have hips and an ass and do you know what? Those things don’t make me a bad person. They don’t make me any less deserving or beautiful than anyone else.”
