Landon had already turned away from me when I remembered my purse on the ground, and at the same exact moment as I bent to retrieve it, I watched him turn on his heel and stoop. (Damn those gentlemanly reflexes.) Our heads almost knocked together on the ground, and laughing, I stood up to let him fetch my things. For a moment then, he was kneeling on the ground, looking up at me. The gaze and the smile flickered back across his face like a flame, as he gobbled up an eyeful of me from an angle where a scalawag could see up a lady's dress. I let him look, though. I let him linger all over me with his eyes, and I felt my heart race. I felt my panties grow hot.
“JESUS!” Carson yelled from the foyer. When I turned my head, she looked like a Cathy cartoon: all flailing arms, her long hair amplified by the humidity. Landon righted himself. The frown returned. He handed me my purse, then nodded curtly. I didn't know whether to laugh at the absurdity of it all, or get mad again. For something to say, I whirled on my big sister.
“You can't say Jesus in a church,” I huffed.
Chapter Fifteen
Landon
September 1st
It took me to the second frickin’ week of school to wise up. I'd followed Clay Hoskins to a big Alpha Phi party on Frat Row, and there the pair of them were. Lip locked on the grass, in plain sight, for everybody to see. I was shocked that The Daily Texan hadn't been invited to this oh-so-public photo-op.
When we saw them, Clay put a steadying hand on my shoulder like he was afraid I'd pull out a glock or something. But what shocked me most was how vacant I felt, watching them gnawing away at one another's faces. I thought for a second about how we'd probably looked, the few times I'd ever gotten Zora to make out with me in public. (“What am I, a Kardashian?” she liked to say, whenever I so much as tried to nuzzle her on the shoulder in public. Which I never actually got, because as far as I could tell she aspired to be a Kardashian.) I didn't think she'd ever looked so focused while kissing me. Regardless—what they were doing didn't look too fun. Denny was pawing at her like a virgin on death row, his hands squeezing and pinching her flesh. And though Z looked 'into it,' I detected no joy in her body. She kissed like she was out to prove someone wrong.
“That's some shit, man,” Clay offered, shaking his heavy dreads back and forth. “Can't believe your girl would dog you like that.”
“I'm a little more surprised at my best friend,” I said. And as if on cue, there the bastard went again—swooping in for a hickey. A few freshmen girls in teetering party heels paused on the sidewalk to point and laugh at Mr. and Mrs. Billy Bob Thornton, who were now just about fucking in plain sight.
“I hate to say it, but I'm not,” Clay murmured. I smiled wryly at my buddy. He'd never made a secret of the fact that he wasn't Denny's biggest fan, but it was nice to hear some solidarity. I wondered why it'd taken three years of college for me to start hanging out with Hoskins. I mean, of all the jags I spent my time with, he was definitely one of the better dudes.
Denny, at long last, caught on to his audience. He pulled himself away from Zora with the suctioning sound of a plunger, and when he met my eyes I watched his face blanche with fear. Z took another second to realize what was happening, but when she saw me and Clay across the grass her eyes narrowed. She pulled a compact from the back of her jeans and started to primp.
“Landy,” Denny said, his voice coming out strangled-sounding. “I can explain, man. Z and I were just...”
“Save it, man.” I looked from best friend to girlfriend, then back again. It was strange, feeling nothing. I knew what I was supposed to feel—betrayal, fury, even sadness—but none of these would come. Seeing them together just struck me as...empty.
“He doesn't even care, Denny,” Zora piped up. I was surprised to hear a harsh edge to her voice—here when I'd been thinking she was as jagged-sounding as it was possible to get. “He hasn't paid any attention to me since we got back together. I could be fucking his step-sister, and he wouldn't care.” She sounded more bitter than any twenty-two year old had a right to be. But I felt something then—a slight little twinge of pity for Zora. She wasn't entirely wrong, after all. We'd never been a good match for each other, but I sure hadn't been holding up my end of the boyfriend deal.
Still, I remained silent, feeling braced by Clay's hand on my shoulder. After a few more seconds I turned to my buddy and flicked my head in the direction of Frat Row. As we turned, I could see them gaping, turning to each other all outraged. I don't know what they expected of me. But I do know that as I left those two in the dust, I felt the weirdest lift in my shoulders. Relief.
Chapter Sixteen
Ash
September 1st
“You're settling in okay?” Anya asked for what felt like the three-hundredth time. Mom had made it her prerogative to visit my closet of a dorm room four times already, though I'd only been at college for two weeks. I'd never seen her so hands-on about anything. My new roommate, Lotte, was demonstrably un-amused about this third addition to room 6E.
“Yes, Anya,” I repeated, as my mother fussed with a mini-fridge magnet. “Is everything okay? You really didn't need to come celebrate my first quiz in Organic Chemistry.” Especially as you didn't know until today I was taking that class, I added silently. Our relationship was one built on my independence. It felt strange to fuck with the formula.
“I know, baby, I know,” Anya said, running her fingers down the silk curtains Carson had made for me. “I'm just happy to visit, you know. It can get a little lonely in the house without you.”
Lotte sighed dramatically from her desk corner, and I took a dainty step towards my mother. We could at least talk in lower tones, if she had to talk so much.
“What do you mean, lonely? Didn't you get married a few weeks ago? How's the Pastor?”
Anya's smile was delayed on its way to her face. She'd never been an excellent liar, but I was surprised to see how much effort it seemed to take for her to approximate newlywed bliss. I set down my orgo book, sighed, and really looked at my mother.
“Everything's going okay with you two, right?” I said slowly. But mom had made a decision to play her cards close to the chest. She nodded furiously at me before getting up to hunt around the room for her purse.
“Mom? Did I say something off? You know you can always talk to me, right?” But Anya had already reached the door, and seemed married to her ruse.
She nodded tightly again, eyes wide, smile manic. “Just don't be a stranger, sugar,” she said, blowing me a kiss. “And hey, I like that. Mom.”
Unexpected Anya visits aside, college was a mixed bag so far. Lotte didn't seem too interested in exploring UT's vivacious social life, which made studying in the dorm easy, but friend-making less so. Melanie, my old pre-college study buddy, had reappeared to drag me out to a few mixers. Together, we'd made it to a few floor shin-digs, in the name of being social. I'd let a tall, Korean basketball player give me a hickey at a kegger. I'd played a game of Truth or Dare with my suitemates that resulted in my making out with Lotte's favorite teddy bear. Classes were actually challenging, more so than at any point in high school. But despite all this, I did feel like something was missing.