Page 8 of Like a Power Play
Finally, I ask, tone light, but taunting, “Who ya talking to, Cleo?”
Cleo’s smile drops instantly, and she shoots me a horrified gaze. Without breaking eye contact, she turns off her phone before sliding it into her lap wordlessly.
“Okay, not suspicious at all.” I take a bite of the banana.
Her lips stay pressed together, like she’s holding something in, probably because she is. And although Cleo and I still have a lot to learn about one another, I know enough to say that any minute now, she’s going to break. She stares at me, jaw tense, lips rolled, until finally—
“I bumped into Will Carter yesterday—likeliterally walked into—it doesn’t matter. Anyway, we were outside the linguistics building and we started talking about English majors and now, like, we’re meeting up for coffee to talk about it and I—I don’t even know what to do!”
She slaps a hand over her mouth like the words will absorb back into it, but my jaw has already fallen to the counter. I pick it back up, just to point out the obvious issue I’m sure she’s well aware of.
“But Will’s—”
“A football player, I know.”
I stare at her, blinking in disbelief, as if doing it slower might make all of this click. “And—”
“And Iloathefootball players. I know.”
I take another bite of fruit, the potassium doing nothing to dull the shock that’s making my head spin.
Cleo’s been flirting with new majors since before I moved in. Not that she’s ever formally changed anything. It’s more like a revolving door that she steps into, only to get off at the exact same spot every time. Biomed to psychology, then art history,then pre-law, then back to biomed. Each week, it’s a new dream, a new identity, but none of them seem to stick.
“Oh my god,” she groans, tipping her head into her hands. “What am I gonna do?”
I shrug, failing to bite back the provoking smile tugging at my lips. “Will, apparently.”
Cleo shoots me a daggered look, while I chuckle at my own joke. Normally, it’s the other way around, and I have to admit, it’s fun being on this side of it for once.
“You know it’s not like that.”
A laugh tumbles out of me as I take another bite. “Do I?”
Her head bobs along for a second, lips pressed in a flat line. But when her gaze darts back to me, there’s something pressing in it.
“So, are you going to tell me whoyousnuck out to see this morning? Or are we going to pretend that didn’t happen?”
I pause mid-chew, a pit forming in my stomach.
“How did you—”
“Socks.”
My gaze flashes to the chunky tuxedo cat, tail swishing as he eyes my banana like it’s the last meal on earth. I pull it back, narrowing my eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time the little thief snatched food right out of my hands.
“Snitch,” I mutter, and Cleo rolls her eyes.
“Oh, that, and the fact that you were brewing coffee at three a.m. You know, I have a very sensitive nose.”
A sheepish smile creeps across my face, and I hop off the stool to toss the banana peel in the trash. “Sorry.”
Cleo just stares at me, like she’s waiting for more. She does that a lot. Sometimes it works. Most of the time, it doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I really like living with Cleo. But just because we’re roommates doesn’t mean we need to be best friends.
Cleo doesn’t agree, of course.
I hate that I like that about her.
“Well?” she presses again, brows raised, dimpled chin jutting out. “Who is it?”
