Treadmill

XV.II

By the time Sunday night rolled around, Rebecca had had plenty of time to think about her situation.

That was a terrible segue. But we're gonna roll with it anyways.

Celeste walked around the kitchen, texting someone and giggling every few seconds, which led Rebecca to believe that she was definitely texting Spencer and simply not telling Rebecca about it...still. Kaylie was in her room, arguing loudly with the guy she had started dating days earlier. He was the third boyfriend in as many weeks, and nothing about Kaylie's relationship-hopping seemed to be alarming to either her or Jamie. And from the words echoing out of Kaylie's room, it didn't look like this one was going to last either.

Rebecca hoped it wasn't another guy that she had picked up at one of Kennedy's parties. The last time that had happened, the guy had been Rian's crush of the past year, and there had been a lot of explaining done on Rebecca's part as to why her roommate could have possibly thought he was fair game.

Jamie was nowhere to be found in the apartment, and Rebecca was pretty sure she hadn't seen the girl in at least three days. Which left Rebecca, sitting by herself in the living room, laptop in front of her as she debated what to do.

She didn't want to betray Kennedy. She didn't want to do anything to upset Kennedy. She didn't even want to look at Kennedy the wrong way. But she was still there, sitting in her living room, convinced that Kennedy was somehow going to ruin everything they had tried to put behind them. And the werewolf kept popping into her head, along with the name 'Jeremy Abrams.' The guy that Kennedy had been talking to, or rather, arguing with, when Rebecca had woken up hungover in her living room over a month earlier.

She pulled up a search engine on her laptop and typed in, 'Jeremy Abrams,' before clicking the search button. Over 8 million results popped up, the most popular of which were about the husband of a Top Chef judge. Rebecca scrolled down for a bit, not finding anyone who looked remotely like Kennedy or who looked like someone she would talk to. So she kept refining her search.

'Jeremy Abrams Clemson'

'Jeremy Abrams phone number'

'Jeremy Abrams Kennedy Abrams'

'Jeremy Abrams Kennedy Abrams phone number'

But nothing seemed noteworthy. The only things she could find about Kennedy herself were some volleyball scores and tournaments won by the girl back in high school.

As she was about to try another search, her phone rang. Rebecca flipped it over and almost had a heart attack at seeing Kennedy's name on the caller ID.

"Hey." She answered, trying not to sound suspicious. As if anyone even knew what it meant to 'sound suspicious.' "What's up?"

"Nothing." Kennedy replied, "I'm just bored. What are you up to?"

Rebecca eyed her seven open tabs with searches about Jeremy Abrams.

"Oh, nothing." She laughed forcibly, "Just doing homework."

"Really?" Kennedy asked, "For what class?"

Rebecca paused for a second.

"Graphic design."

"There's a class that's just called 'graphic design?'"

"Yeah."

"What are you working on?"