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Her hand reaches for the door, and she looks over her shoulder. “Who said it was a compliment?” Nodding toward my single duffel, she looks confused. “Where’s the rest of your crap? I know the freaking senator’s daughter isn’t rolling in here with one measly bag.”
Shrugging, I follow her inside. “Well, this one did. And it’s a duffel. Holds a lot of shit.”
We walk through the entryway and into the living room, where one girl is lying on the couch in an oversize hoodie and workout shorts.
“Yo, Lana, our new roomie is here,” Ryann calls to her, and Lana clicks the remote to pauseOne Tree Hill.
It’s the episode when Nathan finally pulls his head out of his ass and forgives Haley after she ran off to be a singer. I sort of wish she had let it continue to play so I could relive it for what would likely be the tenth time now. Still, no matter how many times I’ve watched it, my heart squeezes inside of my chest each time.
Lana’s eyes rake over me, up and down, sizing me up. “Are you Alabama’s governor’s kid or whatever?”
“Senator,” Ryann corrects her before I can. “And Tennessee, dumbass, not Alabama.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” Lana shrugs. “In the South, it’s all the same, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” I mutter, trying to keep my resting bitch face at bay and attempting to smile, though I’m sure it looks like I’m having a stroke. “Are y’all from around here?”
“Fuck no.” Lana breathes out a laugh. “New Hampshire.”
“Canada,” Ryann says nonchalantly, looking down at her nails.
Gazing around the house, I shrug. “Where’s the fourth roommate?”
“Poppy isn’t home right now. And while her name sounds sweet and innocent, like the little pink troll from the movie…she’s actually a bitch,” Ryann says, completely unaffected. “Just stay out of her way, keep on her good side, and you’ll be all set.”
I start to nod, but Lana’s laugh stops me.
“Ryann, I was kidding when I pretended I didn’t know where Sutton was from. She’s Sutton Savage. We all know she left Juilliard to be here. At Brooks. She’s already on Poppy’s shit list just for leaving the school she’s always dreamed of attending and for being the feared dancer that she is.” She gives me a half-sympathetic, half-tough-shit grin. “Poppy is intense. And judging by how far your dancing has taken you, so are you.” She shrugs. “I don’t need to tell you this is likeTheHunger Games. Just do you, boo. Don’t let Poppy get to you. Because trust me, if she smells weakness—even just a pinch—she’s going in for the kill.”
“Like literally or…” I say, eyes wide.
She simply shrugs. And at that, she stands, stretching her arms over her head before flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulders and practically skipping away.
Ryann must sense my unease because she pokes my shoulder. “Don’t worry about what she just said. Poppy is bitchy, but she’s not an awful person. She just wants to be the best.” She gives me a sad smile. “And I hate to break it to you, but now that you’ve arrived…she isn’t.”
“Y’all haven’t even seen me dance yet,” I deadpan.
“Oh, trust me, we have. There’s been a lot of buzz about you since you were, like…eleven years old. We know how good you are.” She scrunches up her nose. “But you also left freaking Juilliard to be here. Which makes me question your sanity.”
“Brooks has a good dance program too!” I throw my arms up. “It might not be Juilliard, but it’s still one of the better dance programs in the South.”
She gives me a sneaky smile. “I’ll let it go. For now. But one day, you’re going to tell me your real reasons for leaving New York.” Heading toward the stairs, she holds her finger up. “Now, let’s go. I’ll show you around the house and your room. Maybe even help you hide the knives before Poppy comes home.”
When my eyes widen, she barks out a laugh. “Kidding. Sort of.”
Great. I got rid of my mother, and now, I have to deal with a she-devil named Poppy. Awesome.
Hunter
I finish dressing and close my locker. Even after a shower, I’m still out of breath. Maybe Coach is right; maybe we do suck this season. I never stopped training from last season, yet here I am, huffing and puffing like I’ve never played hockey before and I smoke a pack and a half a day. Just like I was after practice yesterday. And the day before that and the day before that.
Link Sterns darts past me, headed for the exit.
I frown, throwing my arms out. “Dude, where’s the fire?”
Turning, he grins. “What the fuck are you talking about, Thompson?”
I look around. “Well, you’re running out of here like your ass is on fire. Fuck, I’m not even sure you had time to properly scrub your ass. I’m sure you still smell.”
