“You assigned two different families the same fucking apartment,” I grit out, losing what little patience I have left. “Not my fault that your department is incompetent.”
“Miss. Rose,” she replies, aghast. “Do remember that you are attending GOU out of the goodness of our Dean’s heart? Do refrain from speaking in that manner. We’re doing the best we can.”
Absolutely loathe when someone brings up my situation like it’s leprosy or something. I’m a single mother, not like the condition catches or anything. It doesn’t spread through water, and you can’t pick it up from putting your hands on something I touched. Freaking ridiculous.
Huffing, I sit back. “What am I supposed to do, then? I was promised an apartment with two bedrooms, and I expect an apartment with two flippin’ bedrooms.”
Jerricka purses her lips in disapproval. She’s like one of those sixty-something librarian types—a severe bun at the crown of her head, comfortable, sensible footwear, and a suit-skirt that comes to her knees. Oh, and let’s not forget the glasses that hang around her neck on one of those strings.
Let’s not forget, I’m not her favorite person right now, so I’m receiving all the resting bitch faces that she managed to perfect by the 70s.
“Miss. Rose,” she sternly replies. “We have no available apartments on campus. I am sorry. The only thing we have available are dorms. Would you like me to put you into one of those?”
Like, is she stupid or dense? As of now, I can’t really tell. “I cannot have my son living in a dorm, Mrs. Talcum.”
She purses her lips. “I’m not a powder, dear.”
Throwing my hands into the air, I yell, “Are you sure? Because I’d swear, you’re trying to make things better, but instead, you’re like a rash with that prickly personality of yours!”
Today just is not my day, which is a hell of a lot different from what I thought before stepping foot on GOU soil. How can things change so quickly? What am I going to do now? Maverick will need a place to lay his head down at night when I’m at school. And I need that before he comes to live with me in four months after winter break.
I sigh, releasing all the pent-up energy inside me. “I know you said you had dorms, but unless you can get me a room by myself, heavily fortified, with two beds—I simply cannot do it. My son’s safety means everything to me, Jerricka.”
My eyes meet hers to see her face softening by my words. Not that I want to guilt-trip her, it’s the truth. Maverick is the only thing I care about in this entire world. God gave him to me to protect, and I’m not going to risk his safety because of someone’s mistake. I refuse to go down like that.
“Again, I’m s—” Her words are cut off by the sound of some crazy banshee of a girl screaming to the top of her lungs.
“You can’t play me!” she cries out. “I know my father did this, and I refuse to sleep in that freaking apartment instead of the dorms! I’m a co-ed bitch, bitch!”
Apartment? I quirk a brow at Jerricka, then we both jump to our feet when the sound of crashing hits our eardrums.
Jerricka magically gets to the door before me, opening it with a flourish. She barrels into the main room of the housing office, and while I quickly follow behind her, I still manage to use her body as a shield. I’m no idiot.
What I see confuses me but makes me burst out laughing.
What in tarnation is she doing? My eyes follow her movements as she climbs on top of some poor guy’s desk, then starts jumping to the next one, and the next, and the next. She seems to be running away from the people chasing her. But the more I look at it, they seem to be corralling her, instead of wanting to pull her from the office and off-campus.
She must be … it hits me then—her voice. Face—the quirky way she gives no fucks.
“Oh, my god!” I howl with laughter, already feeling lighter than I was before. “Jenna. Jenna Doyle!”
She stops automatically. Her body turns to me, eyes narrowing as she looks me up and down. The moment I smile, tip my hip to the side and make fake fangs in front of my lips, her screeches can be heard off the walls of the housing office as she barrels toward me, jumping from desk to desk.
Jenna Doyle is a rebel without a cause. The yin to my yang. My best fucking friend. She’s changed over the years, that’s for sure. No longer the long, dim chestnut hair, and in its place is platinum blonde with peekaboo pinks, purples, and bright blues. She dresses like a stripper. At least what I think a stripper would wear. But somehow, it fits her. It showcases her taut stomach, petite size, and the bright ass bellybutton ring that’s flashing lights.
She’s short, skinny, and curvy—everything I want to be.
“Harloe!” she crows, jumping off the desk and into my arms.
If it hadn’t been for my mommy muscles, there’s no way I could have caught her without both of us going down to the ground.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she slides down to the ground. Her violet eyes catch mine.
I smile, ruffling her hair. “Going to school, nerd.”
Her mouth threatens to fall open before she catches herself. Her eyes ghost around the housing office, grimacing the tiniest bit when she sees what her tantrum has done. But does she apologize? Nope. Because that’s not something Jenna does. She gives no fucks, which is what made us best friends back in high school.
Only, I wish we’d stayed in touch when I left. For a while, we did, but it seemed the longer I was gone, the easier it was to let go of everything in Golden Oaks.
She seems to be thinking the same thing as she says, “Sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
I release a small smile, patting her shoulder. “Me, too.” Then, I go onto more important business, we can always catch up later. “So, you said you had this apartment you didn’t want. Wouldn’t happen to be a two-bedroom, would it?”
She rolls her eyes, huffing. “You know how my dad is. Super protective, which is why I’m going to school here and not in New York like I wanted.”
Yes, I remember Mr. Doyle very well.
“He still hot?” I smirk.
Her face screws up in disgust, for about two seconds. “Unfortunately. But no speaking like that, it’s disgusting. I feel my ovaries shriveling.”
I should probably say Mr. Doyle is her stepdad, shouldn’t I? Well, he is, so no grossies there for looking and no touching on her part. She only considers him her dad because he’s been there since day one. Legit, he was in the delivery room when her mother gave birth. He’s the one who brought Jenna into the world. He and her mother got to know each other when Jenna’s biological father disappeared without a trace, and the rest is history.
“Anyway, I’m legit in a bind here. I need an apartment, and the only thing left are dorms. Do you think we could—you know?”
She nods, and I don’t miss the way she shoots a relieved smile toward me. That’s like the calm before the storm if what I used to know about Jenna is still true.
Surely, she hasn’t changed that much since high school. Hopefully, she’s still nice and wouldn’t mind letting me have her apartment.
True to the past, Jenna snaps her fingers and turns to the right and left, looking at all the people like they’re her loyal subjects. And then she damns me to hell.