clicks and I pull it open. His Jeep is still at the curb. I haven’t heard it pull away, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
Is he happy?
Surprised?
Angry?
I’m can’t be sure. Once again I realize a lot has happened in seven years. I really don’t know him. And as I walk to the elevators I mentally kick myself. I still haven’t noticed his shoes. They’ll tell me a lot.
Kyle
Even in rumpled clothes and her face smeared with makeup, she’s totally hot. When I tell her she owes me her name, her eyes light up like twin fires. Smoldering. And I have to shift in my seat. It's crazy she can turn me on so easily.
She tells me her name and I get the feeling she wants to say more. I almost come clean, tell her that I already knew her name—that I’m sorry for teasing her. It seems to hurt her that I’ve been pretending I didn’t. But now I don’t want to tell her because I’m worried she’ll be mad.
Maddie slams the door, and I don’t get a chance to say anything.
I watch her walk into the building. If she had a phone I’d call her, text her, tell her the truth.
But she doesn’t.
At least not yet. And I get a brilliant idea.
13
Maddie
Most Definitely Not Fine
I open the door to my dorm room cautiously. No point waking up Gina. But her bed is an untidy mess of covers and she isn’t in amongst them. My throat constricts and I glance at the digital clock on my nightstand. It’s four thirty in the morning.
The party can’t still be going, and I’m worried. Gina wrote her cell number on the white board hanging on the door, and I walk to it. Write the number on my hand, and walk out to the commons area. It’s so quiet. Not a sound, except the rattling of the vents.
Sitting, I dial her number. It rings several times and I get her voicemail: “You’ve reached the voicemail of Gina St. James. I can’t talk to you right now because I’m out having fun, which is what you should be doing. So hang up and go party. Oh, and if you’re hard up to leave a message, do it now.”
I smile in spite of the tension in my body. When I hear the beep, I say into the phone, “Hey Gina. I just got back to the room and you aren’t there. I’m… wondering if you’re okay.” I pause. “Sorry I left. I won’t do it again. Promise.” I hang up and walk back to our room.
I pull off Kyle’s sweatshirt and toss it on my bed. Carefully I remove Gina’s dress and hang it on a hanger. I’m not sure if she’ll want to clean it, so I don’t put it back in her closet but drape it against the door. I set her heels back in their box. The girl is very organized when it comes to clothes and shoes. Everything else, not so much.
The door clicks, and Gina bursts into the room. Her eyes are wild.
I’m in my undies, and can’t help the screech that escapes my throat. She barely glances at me before falling on the bed.
“Gina.” I grab a shirt from a drawer, and rush to her bed. “Gina,” I say again. “Are you alright?”
She sits up and I see the rage on her face, feel it radiating off her body, through her pores—like tiny daggers, all aimed at me. “I’m fine,” she shouts. “Can’t you see I’m fine?”
I flinch. Her breath smells of cigarettes. And she’s most definitely not fine. The top of her dress is ripped. So are her leggings. Her makeup is streaked like she’s been crying. I don’t know what to do, what to say. Her breathing is ragged, and she sniffles. Tears fall from her eyes and drip on to her tutu.
Like an idiot I sit there, my hands in my lap, waiting. For what, I’m not sure. But I want her to know I care, that I’m here if she needs me.
Finally I decide to do what I did last time. I grab her a tissue. She rips it from my hand and wipes her face, blows her nose.
“What the hell happened to you?” she asks through gritted teeth.
I tell her about the four shots, about Kyle, and him taking me back to his place. As I talk her eyes get bigger, and bigger. And I know what she’s thinking. Exactly what Kyle said everyone would.
“Nothing