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“She’s gone,” Sydney commented, pursing her lips. She bent down to fix her boot buckle. Her long blonde hair brushed my sleeve. “She didn’t know you were here, did she?”
I shrugged.
“She made such a big deal about leaving on time to meet you.” Sydney ran her fingers through her hair, then let them trail along the sleeve of my coat. “You never hang out with us.” She waited for a reaction and got none. “It’s not like Christina’s ever around anymore either. We were supposed to room together this year, then she claimed her parents wouldn’t let her. They refused to pay her rent if she lived with me! Can youbelievethat?”
“Yes.”
She snorted. “Like I’m such a bad influence. She’s the one who went apeshit last semester.”
“What happened?”
She eyed me, deciding how much to say. “Not my story to tell.”
“All right.” I turned away, ready to leave.
“It was like she wanted to ruin her own life,” Sydney said in a rush. “She started drinking a lot more, like a month before finals, and then she quit the cheer squad out of nowhere, dumped Dexter — who has major social currency — and at the last party before winter break sheaggressivelymade out with this older guy who doesn’t even go to school here and she had to be rescued. That’s supposed to be my MO! The point is, her parents don’t think aboutme.And neither does she. She should know by now that I’m so much better when she’s around.”
Once upon a time, I would have found Sydney’s pure selfishness attractive. Direct, magnetic, even arousing. When someone was utterly self-serving, you knew where each of you stood, and they wouldn’t look at you too closely. In Rome, I’d run toward that selfishness.
I should end this conversation.
Sydney was saying something about spring break. “…And we’re all supposed to go to Florida, just us girls. We planned it months ago. Now she shows up and says, ‘Sorry, I can’t afford it, I’m trying to save.’Like, what isthat?Friends are supposed to be there for each other. Ineedher on spring break. Who’s going to take care of me?”
“You could try taking care of yourself.”
“Nah.” She slanted a smile towards me, like we were sharing a secret moment. “Too much work.”
Shoving my hands in my coat pockets, I gave her a nod — more than she deserved for a goodbye — and stepped away from the wall.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “You’re leaving? We were talking.”
Her hand came to rest on my shoulder. For all her brashness, she approached with caution. Her fluttering lashes belied her nerves.
I regarded her hand coolly, long enough to make the moment uncomfortable. “I’m meeting Christina.”
Her cheeks reddened, and she let go. “Come on, it’s not eleven-thirty yet,” she coaxed. “She ditched us, you can ditch her for a few minutes.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
*****
When I got back to my room, Christina was nowhere in sight. Pacing, I pushed down my impatience and need. She’d come, and when she did, I’d take my time with her.
A light tap-tap echoed off my bedroom door just before eleven-thirty.
I considered making her wait, to remind us both who was in control. But that phone call from Livia had invaded my room, and after a pause, I opened the door.
Christina walked in, peeling off her gloves, her cheeks rosy from the cold.
Pulling her to me, I swallowed her little startled "oh,” a puff of breath against my mouth. Snowflakes melted when I twisted a hand in her hair. I cupped her jaw, squeezing until she yielded.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I whispered.
She looked up at me with startled brown eyes. “Why does it make me nervous that you just gave a compliment?”
With other people, Christina’s voice was all bounce.How ARE you? It’s so good to SEE you!With me, her voice was low and warm, with a sexy hesitation.
I caressed her back under her shirt, unhooking her bra. “Maybe you should ask yourself that.”
