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More important, like she’d said, she hadn’t sent anything out. There was no need for Allison to worry. Not yet, at least.
“It’s a big day.” Sophie grinned. “You don’t usually see the sun until it’s reached its peak. This all must be disorienting for you.”
Allison offered her both middle fingers, and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter.
Chapter 8
That night, Allison’s first-year cohort gathered around Kara’s small coffee table.
At orientation, they’d been encouraged to start spending time together. “You’ll want critique partners, and writing groups, and someone to call crying the morning of your oral exams when you’re convinced you’re going to fail. Start building those bonds now,” they’d been told. So, while Allison would much rather be at home playing tug-o-war with Monty and hanging out with Sophie (if she was around for once), here she was, participating in what was basically compulsory group bonding.
Ethan Windbag fought a grimace as he stared at Kara. She’d just thrust a tray precariously balancing an army of plastic champagne flutes into his personal space. Each was filled with a bright red concoction.
“Do you have any Scotch?”
“I only bought the fixings for Starburst martinis. The text said it was BYOB otherwise,” she reminded him.
“Scotch is not beer.”
“But it isbooze,” Allison pointed out as she gently eased one flute off the tray.
“And gross,” Mandy added, following Allison’s lead. They fist-bumped as Mandy sat back with her drink.
She, Mandy, and Alex were squished on a sofa, the eggshell-colored fabric of which creaked with their every move, while Ethan and Link occupied two red armchairs that looked like they’d been passed down to Kara by her great- (great-, great-, great-, great-) grandmother. The arms had tassels.Tassels.Made of gold thread.Gold. Thread.
Kara flitted from place to place like a hummingbird turned hostess (in another crisply ironed button-down), and Colin Benjamin lorded over the rest of them from against the fireplace, fiddling with what looked like a crystal cat figurine on the mantel. The way he was leaning reminded Allison too much of that dream she’d had this morning, so she’d decided to pretend he wasn’t there. Or, if the leaning (which Allison found irrationally sexy) proved to be too much, she’d imagine he was someone else. Hal, one of Kara’s non-grad-school friends who’d joined them for the evening. That sounded right. Hal was innocuous and forgettable. Not a boil on the backside of Allison’s entire existence.
They’d all been grumbling about their coursework for the last fifteen minutes, but when Kara (who’d clearly googled “hosting a party” online) had entered the room brandishing her signature cocktail, she’d banned school talk.
Once everyone (except Ethan) had a drink, she set down the tray and clapped her hands. “I thought we could play two truths and a lie. It’ll be a fun way to get to know each other.”
Allison cringed internally. This was the party equivalent of bringing flashcards on a date. With the exception of family wedding showers, she hadn’t played a party game since she was in junior high. Usually alcohol was all the icebreaker anyone needed.
Their host joined Colin at the fireplace. Something about the way she smiled at him twisted Allison’s insides like a balloon animal, but he was still so enthralled by the knickknack he didn’t notice.
Kara cleared her throat. “I thought we’d make it themed. For added fun.” She asked Colin to start, offering him that extra-bright smile again.
Allison studied Kara’s smile more closely than she should. Was there something going on between them?
Knocking back a good gulp of her drink, she shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Kara was just intensely attentive. And even if there was more to it, Allison didn’t care. Not one bit. Let Colin flirt (or not flirt) with whomever he liked.
He jerked his head up, his eyes wide as he looked at Kara.
“You start,” Kara said again. “Two truths and a lie about music.”
“Um…” He replaced the crystal cat on the mantel as gently as if it were real and scratched at the back of his head. “Okay. Um… er… One: I’ve never been to a live concert.”
Lie.Allison had attended two with him at the Providence Performing Arts Center. A bunch of folksy rock bands. One had had a washboard player and everything. As a self-proclaimed lover of overplayed Top 40 hits, Allison had been surprised by how much she’d enjoyed herself. She still had songs from some of those folksy bands in her Spotify playlists.
She threw back the other half of her Starburst martini in retaliation against the warm glow overtaking her stomach.
No. More. Reminiscing.
The drink tasted like painstakingly fresh-pressed strawberry and orange juices, the burn of vodka only noticeable at the back of Allison’s throat as it swam in her far-too-empty stomach. These martinis were going to be dangerous, she thought as she plucked another one from the tray.
Colin coughed. “Two: I love musical theater.”
Truth.Allison didn’t let herself think about the time he sang the entire score ofDear Evan Hansento her while she’d lain curled up in his bed nursing murderous menstrual cramps.
