College Ruled

forty-six

46
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CHRISTMAS PASSED in a blur of torn wrapping paper and perfectly iced cookies. Dad loved his jersey, much to my relief, and he spent the rest of the day wearing it. There was mug after mug of hot cocoa, a never-ending run of classic holiday films, and absolutely no mention of school.

        It was perfect.

        And quick.

        The week following brought in another storm, clouds spitting ice and flurries down at the streets. The roads were all nearly clogged again by the time I made the journey back to campus. The bus was delayed by a few hours and when it finally rolled away from my hometown, it moved half as fast as it usually did.

       I made it back after dark, giving me just enough time to pull on the little black dress Chris left on my bed, fix the curls that I had painstakingly burned into my hair this morning, and catch a ride here.

       The team's house. Wesley's New Year's Eve party. 10:30 p.m.

       And I am fucking exhausted—

       "You're doing it again."

I jerk upright, eyes snapping open to catch the drink I nearly spill all over the counter I'm leaning against. Chris huffs out a laugh beside me, the noise partially drowned out by the bustle of voices around us, and stuffs her hand deeper into the bag of Doritos she's devouring.

     "Bite me," I grumble. "I was stuck on a bus for half the day. Wesley's been blowing up my phone for days about this party, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I'd be in bed. Asleep. Happy."

     "That sounds lovey," says Leyla. She's perched on the opposite counter, legs bent in the empty sink. A bottle of vodka is cradled against her chest like a child. "We should all do that."

      "You could just always sneak off to Grayson's room." Chris shrugs. "I doubt he'd mind."

      I shake my head. "He's not back yet. I don't want an unconscious me to be the first thing that greets him."
     
      "When does he get back?"

      "Tonight," I sigh. "Any minute now probably."

      "Excited?" asks Chris, lips curling into a teasing smile as she bites into another chip.

I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. Shrug. Lay my head back on the counter.

Am I excited?

Honestly, I don't know what to make of the nerves twisting in my stomach. I'm excited, yes, sure, obviously—he stayed at my mother's house for one night and I haven't stopped thinking about him since. But the anticipation is also knotting in my gut like a fist, every unsure thought a new finger kneading at my insides.

What will it be like, him and me, now that it's real? What will people think? Say? How am I supposed to act now that it's no longer some game between us? What if he grows bored of me, just like everyone else?

What if what if what if—

"You're doing it again." It's Leyla this time, snapping me back to myself with a nudge of her foot. The heel of her silver pumps digs into my spine. "You kind of look like you're gonna throw up now though, which doesn't seem like an improvement to falling asleep."