some damage with your mom’s credit card,” she says with a hint of mischievous glee.
“Sounds good to me.” Hell, that’s the least my mom can do.
***
We pile everything on the open bed, and I collapse on top of it. Her amused face shifts into a sarcastic smile. “Tired?” She chuckles.
“Exhausted. I never bothered much with shopping in the past. I was either in uniforms or it was easier to let Mom get what she wanted. She always returned half of what I picked out anyway.” I snort.
“Well, my work is done. I’ll let you get to bed. I better head over to the hotel. The plane is leaving early in the morning.” Her earnest stare was unwavering. “Amber, I want you to call me if you need anything. Anything at all. Don’t worry, I’ll handle your mom.” She smiles broadly. “Try to have fun! Meet new people, get wasted, sleep around…let loose! You are far too serious for your own good.” Her pale green eyes crinkle at the corners. Hugging me tightly, she whispers, “I love you, hon.”
My arms squish against my sides in her embrace. I raise my hands in an awkward pat on her back. I want to hug her back but I can’t, not yet anyway. It’s too soon. When she finally pulls away, I offer, “Have a safe trip back to Ohio.” I flash a conciliatory smile and walk her to the elevator.
I walk into my room and plop down on the bed. To say the day was eventful would be an understatement. But instead of going over and over the drama from the last two days, getting angry all over again like I usually do, I push it out of my mind. New beginnings. I hope so.
My mind eventually drifts to Tommy. His sapphire eyes are amazing and the dimples turn me to jelly. He sure is hot. I wonder what his lips would feel like, on mine. My mind drifts to wondering what they would feel like down there, too. Where did I put my rabbit?
I scrub my face and put on my usual shorts and tank, snuggle into my bed to review my schedule. I am signed up for the basic curriculum – math, English, history, tennis, and political science. Tennis throws me. I can’t believe she signed me up for my favorite sport. I didn’t think she remembered. I’m surprised it’s not ballet or some shit. Shit, who am I kidding? Aunt Patty selected all my classes.
Around midnight, I settle into my comfy pillows with my new down comforter and drift off to sleep dreaming of gorgeous men with penetrating blue eyes.
***
The door crashes open. The lights flash on. “What the fuck?” I rub my eyes trying to focus.
In walks a tall, blond, “Helen of Troy” supermodel. Her blinding smile stuns me. Laughing, she staggers as she bubbles excitedly, “Hey Roomie!”
Chapter 3
“Hi, I’m Sally Westin, your new roommate,” she says giggling and swaying in front of my bed. “You’re Amber Turner, right?” She squints, struggling to make out the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Wow, is it really one a.m.?” Shrugging, she goads me. “Wake up, wake up.” She raises a bottle, “I brought Tequila and limes, or as my brother calls it, Ta-kill-ya.”
She shuffles to the kitchenette without even a slight interest in any objection I might have. Her short skirt sashaying as she moves. Banging the bottle down as she bumps into the table, she laughs, holding her finger to her puckered mouth, “Shhhh.” Pulling a lime from the bag on the counter, she grabs a salt shaker, pulls out the cutting board, and takes a knife from the drawer. Toeing off her ankle boots, she kicks them to the corner. Her feet glow with hot pink neon socks.
Her face lights up. “We need music.” Running to her dropped bag, she pulls out her phone, scanning her music. Looking up from the floor, she asks, “What kind of music do you like?”
My hands wash over my face as I try to come alive from a dead sleep. “Uh, older or newer stuff?”
“This isn’t a pop quiz, sweetie. Never mind. I got this.” LMFAO blares from her phone. She moves, getting into the music as if she’s forgotten I’m in the room. She dances over to her rolling suitcase deposited on the floor by the empty bed, opens it, and extracts two shot glasses. She smiles, looking down at her collection of brightly colored glass in awe. Looking up at me