I rear back, mortified. “Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “I would never—”
She barks out a laugh and pats my cheek. “You’re just too precious. Now, get dressed. Wear the lipstick. Get laid.” Her features morph, resembling that of a stern teacher, and I tense. “But don’t bring him back here because I’ve got to study for this damn Intro to Religious Studies exam, and you know I can’t study in public.”
She told me about this when we first became roommates. Apparently, she does better on exams when she studies in her room versus at the library or a coffee shop and doesn’t feel like chancing that anytime soon.
Wide-eyed, I nod. “I promise not to bring anyone back.”
“Sweet. Good talk.” Then she returns to her side of the room and slides back into her desk chair to resume her studying.
By the time seven o’clock rolls around, I’m dressed in the Stephanie-approved outfit and wearing the darker lipstick she suggested. She gives me a quick thumbs-up in approval before turning back to her study material. The knock on the door is right on time.
I open the door to Hollis dressed in a pair of khakis and an untucked polo shirt. The shirt’s hem reaches the waistband of his pants, and on his feet are the nice pair of leather flip-flops I bought him for Christmas. When I drag my eyes back up his form, our gazes clash, and his eyes sparkle with amusement.
“Do I pass muster?”
I tip my head to the side with a smile. “Yes, sir.”
“Ready?”
I nod and turn to grab my little wristlet. As soon as I do, I hear a choked sound from behind me.
“Shortcake? Where in God’s creation is the rest of your shirt?”
“Whoa, dude. Hollis Barnes?” Stephanie calls out, leaning back in her desk chair. She narrows her eyes on him and throws up a hand. “Hold up. You’re the friend she’s going out with tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She mutters something that sounds like, “All the ma’ams and sirs kill my damn soul,” before asking, “Are you prepared for the exam on Monday in Holt’s class?”
My eyes volley back and forth between the two of them. I had no idea they knew one another, let alone had a class together.
He gives her that quick wink that’s become so familiar. He’s probably the one guy on this earth who can pull off a wink and not have it come off as arrogant or sleazy. “I’m as prepared as I’ll ever be.”
She makes a sound of disgust. “I despise people who are naturally great test takers.”
“You’ll do fine,” he tells her. “Just don’t overdo it, or your brain will revolt.”
She mutters something and turns back. Hollis’ gaze flicks to me, his brows slanting together, a crease forming between them. “It’s a little chilly out there. Might want to change.”
Before I can part my lips to respond, Stephanie pipes up without even turning around. “She’s perfect as is, Barnes.”
He frowns. “I wasn’t tryin’ to imply—”
She exhales loudly and spins around. “Dude. She’s beautiful. You saying that she should change when she looks hot as hell is a little insulting.” Then she pins me with a look. “Don’t you dare change. You look so freaking perfect it makes me throw up a little in my mouth.” She spins back to her desk. “Now, please go so I can get some studying done.”
I press my lips thin, warring with indecision until I finally force myself to walk to the door. Saying goodbye to my roommate, Hollis and I walk down the stairs, talking like we normally would.
Conversation is easy, and I realize how much I’ve missed this. I shouldn’t have stayed away from him simply because of his relationship with Charlotte. Because of that, I’ve missed out on spending time with my best friend.
As we stroll on the sidewalk, I’m grateful Azalea’s isn’t but a block and a half away since there’s a slight chill in the air. I hesitate before finally asking, “What happened?”
I don’t look at him. Can’t, if I’m being honest. And it’s for the worst reason. Because I don’t want him to see how torn I am over his breakup with Charlotte. How a part of me is almost happy because I can have my best friend back again. How another part of me hates that, because I genuinely like Charlotte and thought they were good together.
Lord have mercy, I’m an absolute hot mess. Someone needs to bless my heart already.
“She met someone.”
I jerk, so surprised that I misstep. Hollis grabs my upper arm to steady me. “Whoa. You okay?”
I nod quickly. “Yes.”
He releases me, and the warmth from his hand lingers. As I let his answer sink in, anger churns inside me, like an impending thunderstorm in the South, ready to unleash the loudest thunder, the fiercest lightning, and the harshest downpour of rain.
The sign comes into view for Azalea’s, and I focus on walking and not falling prey to any uneven sections of the sidewalk again.
“I can’t believe she’d choose someone over you.” My words come out sounding almost petulant, but I can’t help it. This is Hollis Barnes we’re talking about. Who in their right mind would choose another guy over him?
Someone who’s clearly delusional, that’s who.
An easy laugh rumbles from him. “Shortcake, it’s all good. I told you. It was mutual.”
Wait. Mutual as in he met someone else too? If so, where is she? Oh, holy hell in a handbasket, please tell me he’s not bringing me out to meet her.
We stop in the line draping the front of Azalea’s. I’m fairly sure it’s ridiculous to have them check IDs, but they’re going through the motions.
“I can practically smell the fire, you’re thinkin’ so hard.” His warm breath flutters against my temple, sending a rash of shivers down the length of my spine. He backs away to peer at me, and I finally manage to brave a look at him.
“So…” I trail off, unsure about asking simply because I don’t know if I want to know the answer.
“So…” he parrots, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
“It was mutual, meanin’…?”
He appears to think it over. “Meanin’, we both realized we made sense in high school, but we want different things now.”
I frown. “But I thought you loved her.”
His expression softens, and he traces an index finger between my brows. “I realized there are different kinds of love. Sometimes, though”—his eyes take on a faraway look—“you realize that you’re better off friends instead.”
I’m about to ask him if he met someone else, too, but he reaches for his back pocket and withdraws his cell phone. He types quickly with a little smirk before repocketing it.
“My roommate’s here.” His eyes lift to mine and he slings an arm around my shoulders as we move with the line of people, getting closer to the entrance. “You’ll like him. Seems like a good guy.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “Plus, he’s the Lacoste-polo-and-khaki-wearin’ kind who comes from a wealthy family.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I don’t care about that.”
“I know.” His gently spoken response silently adds, But your parents do.