Page 35 of When There Was You
I don’t mean to, but Kit lobbed me one of her stupidly clever observations about frat boys. A group of them proudly wearing Greek symbols sits at a table near us in the university’s cafeteria, where we’re sipping coffees in between morning classes. They’re loud and belligerent in a way that screamsassholes.
My cackle happens naturally, and the sound is so foreign to my ears that I nearly clap a hand over my mouth.
Kit’s eyes beam satisfaction. “There she is,” she says softly.
My eyes water and I swallow the emotion. “I’m in here somewhere. At least hopefully I still am. Actually…fuck that. I’m neverhopingagain. Hope is dangerous.”
Kit looks like she wants to argue, but doesn’t, instead giving my hand a squeeze. “I know you’re hurting, but you’re absolutely in there. No one can take that from you. Especially not men. It’s time to rise like a motherfucking Phoenix from the ashes, babycakes.”
I blink hard; her tender words have landed right where she meant them.
She glances at the Greeks again when their guffaws echo in the space. “And torch those smug dipshits on the way up, will you? Except for that guy on the end. He’scute.”
My lips turn up again.
Maybe Iamgoing to get through this.
Twenty-One
In late March, Kit and Jas barge into my room without knocking. Not breaking stride, Jas arrives at my bedside and flings off my comforter. “Get up. We’re going out.”
“I’m fine right where I am.” I pretend to resume reading my paperback.
Kit crosses her arms. “Enough of this shit. You’re going clubbing with us.”
My face must broadcast my horror. I’m absolutely not ready for something that…public—nor remotely interested.
“You have no choice, Jax. We’re busting you out of this self-imposed prison cell. Go doll up,” Jas says, grabbing the book from my hand and yanking me from my warm bed.
Kit places her hands on my shoulders. “What she said. Your pity party is officially over. Tonight, you will flirt and dance with members of the opposite sex, and be reminded that you are a gorgeous?—”
“Catastrophe,” I answer.
“Babe,” Kit finishes.
“Who needs to get laid by a hot guy,” Jas adds.
I cringe. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Nope,” she says. “Take a shower. Do your makeup. Kit and I will pick out a cute outfit.”
“But—”
“Don’t even try to argue, cupcake,” Kit says. “This is a hostile takeover.”
“Alovinghostile takeover,” Jas amends.
My eyes shift between my two friends, my dear roommates, my only light in this three-month-long eclipse. They’re only trying to help.Again.Maybe I owe it to them. To myself. I throw my hands up. “Okay, fine, you win.”
The girls squeal in victory.
“But I amnotgetting laid.”
My roommates takeme to a new club named Enigma. Strobe lights pulse, flashing across the dimly lit tables surrounding the dance floor. A smoky haze fills the air. Bodies move to the music, the bass thumping so loud I can’t hear much else.
I follow Jas through the crowd, every step reminding me I’m a minnow away from its pond. The whole scene vibrates around me, foreign and intrusive.
We snag a table and a spandex-wearing cocktail waitress with ratted hair and a shirt showing off her pale midriff takes our drink requests. Jas tacks on three shots of peppermint schnapps to our order. Looks like it’s going to be one of those nights.
