“I’m filling out the paperwork now to apply for the internship, so cross your fingers. Classes are good, and I’m especially loving this Russian literature class I got into. It not only delves into the language, but about how the great novelists impacted it. We also have a new room—”
“What’s that, Kath? Oh, crap … Taya? I have to call you back. They don’t have the kind of leather your sister likes, and we may have to custom order. It won’t be here in time for next month’s qualifiers. I have to go!”
Disappointment floods me as she hangs up the phone.
When I wander down to the kitchen, Bevan and Callum are sitting at the table sipping coffee while Scott flips pancakes.
“Can I get some of those?” I sidle up to him, batting my eyelashes.
He snorts. “You’re a mooch. Why am I always cooking for everyone?”
“Because you’re the best cook, and I hate to.” I grab a mug from the cabinet and throw a green tea bag in it while I warm the teapot.
Austin walks in, his sandy blond hair rumpled from sleep. He’s wearing a navy and gold Talcott sweatshirt over gray and navy plaid pajama bottoms, and he looks freaking edible.
“Morning,” he croaks, looking a little worse for the wear. “Is anyone as hungover as I am?”
Callum raises a hand and then lays his forehead on the table.
“He puked this morning.” Bevan snickers but rubs her boyfriend’s back as she bends to coo in his ear.
Well, guess they made up. How long until the next impending blowup?
“Morning.” I smile at Austin.
I try not to let my heart flutter or my stomach dip, but damn, it totally doesn’t work. Traitors.
As for the object of my affection? He barely gives me a passing glance.
Well, guess my organs are now taking a nosedive. I suck in a sharp breath, because this is sophomore homecoming all over again. Does he even realize that we flirted? Was he too drunk and now doesn’t even remember? That would be just my fucking luck.
I want to smack myself for being so stupid, for giving in to these childish feelings again. Here I thought this was the start of something, but I’m nothing more than that desperate high schooler trying to get the older popular guy to notice her.
I busy myself around the kitchen, doing everything and nothing at all, as the conversation chugs along around me. At some point, Amelie walks in and touches my shoulder as she passes.
“Were you talking to someone in your sleep?” Am stretches her arms above her head.
“Mom called. Then hung up on me,” I deadpan, turning to fill my tea.
Bevan snorts behind me. “What a load of bullshit. Let me guess, Queen Kathleen needed her ass wiped?”
My best friend is not a big fan of my sister, especially because it means my parents forget about me a lot because of her. As someone with her own stark abandonment issues, Bevan is my biggest defender.
When I turn, Austin’s eyes are on me. He regards me with something like guarded curiosity, and I want to flip my middle finger up at him. I don’t know why I have the overwhelming urge, but I do.
I want to tell him that no, he isn’t the only one who can make me feel like shit, but that seems melodramatic.
So I do what I always do. I suck it up, put a smile on my face, and pretend that everything is fine. Because even though I’m not a priority in anyone’s life, and even though my heart is slowly fracturing, I’m always the girl you can count on to hold steady.
If I don’t have that attribute assigned to me, then who am I really?
7
Austin
“This is 91.7 WTUB! Welcome back to Division Three Hour with Austin Van Hewitt and Gio Natal.”
Gio intros us as our radio show comes back onto the air.
“Welcome back, folks. We’re here talking about the batting lineup changes Coach Minger made last week, setting up for some more aggressive hitters on the back end of the order,” I say in my radio voice.
I’ve been told I have a good one, voice for radio, that is.
“Yeah, Austin, we’re being told that Nevado is going to be batting clean-up while Oscar Young is being moved to the sixth spot.” Gio nods at me and points to a notepad he’s holding up.
We transition into spring tennis and then talk opinions about the upcoming football season because there are rumors that Talcott will get a new head coach. Overall, it’s a great show, and we sign off after our forty-five-minute time slot with smiles on our faces.
My friend and I walk out of the booth, and I’m riding high. There is nothing I love more than radio and talking sports on the radio. It’s random that I fell into it; a love of music and that freshman year feeling of wanting to explore the possibilities of college led me here. But once I walked into this dark studio with all of its weird inhabitants, I knew I was home.
I clap Gio on the back. “Great show. I think I heard Marissa say that we had about three hundred listeners.”
For a college radio show about division three sports, that’s pretty darn good. We’re gaining traction in the area among students and the school’s biggest sports fans. As a college town with a sports program that houses athletes who would never go pro, there isn’t a huge following. But there are diehard fans, and apparently, they were listening to our show.
“Really? That’s gotta be a new record for us. Which is depressing, but we’re slowly climbing.” My friend laughs and grabs one of the subs that the station caters for us, then sits in a spinning office chair. I join him, forgoing the food, and roll over to a computer terminal.
Though there are crazy hours and mishaps all over the place, working at the radio station has its perks. We get catered food on Tuesdays and Thursdays thanks to the university, and I get a salary as the station manager. I was selected for the job over the summer and had to interview three times with various professors. The extra money is helping with my off-campus living situation since Dad has pulled all help in the room and board department.
“I think we can reach even more by the end of the semester.”
“Then it’s hello, New York City, and talk radio superstardom.” Gio rubs his hands together.
The way he says it, like he’s so sure it’s going to happen, makes my stomach weak. Because for him, it’s a no-brainer. He’s from New Jersey, about half an hour outside the city, and his family is all for him renting some crappy apartment and pursuing his dream.
Me? I have to sneak around and interview for jobs, then worry myself sick with how I’ll ever take them even if I land a position.
“Did you bang that girl you were talking to on Friday night?” Gio asks, mustard dripping onto his chin.
My attention pivots from one thing I’m worrying about to the next—my future career to the girl I’ve been avoiding but can’t get out of my head.
Taya. I haven’t spoken to her since the party and then breakfast the next morning. I am still pretty put off by how she spoke to me in the basement, even though it was probably just my own history and defenses making me jump to conclusions.
That look she had on her face when the other girls mentioned her sister and mother … it has stuck with me. Sadness, a little bit of resentment, that resigned look like she had to settle for something her entire life.