17. willow
CHAPTER 17
WILLOW
CAMPUS BARBIE
In my first week at MU, I developed a routine of darting through the training center as fast as I could without any of the cultists slowing me down. The routine was unsuccessful. Every day.
"Ms. Lawson!" a front desk receptionist belted at me. "Lemon mint tea, side of honey?"
"No, thank you!"
I stopped wondering how they knew my Gianna’s orders and hurried away. The second I engaged to say anything longer, someone else would try to jump out to get me to pose for a picture or ask me about an article or pressure me into agreeing to some football crap I wanted to stay far away from.
"Ms. Lawson!" A student worker with a clipboard tried to catch me by the elevators. "We have a luncheon with the campus garden association that’s been requesting you for?—"
"No, thank you!"
I took to the stairs. Shit. Two tennis coaches who found out I played tennis exactly four times in San Antonio were relentless in having me as a star guest for the summer sessions. Their faces lit up the second they spotted me.
"Ms. Lawson?—"
"No, thank you!"
I needed to find a quiet space to call my dad before I met my mom for lunch. Preferably not in a storage closet.
For some reason, the idea turned my stomach.
" Pruitt! "
I relaxed when I recognized who was trying to get my attention. Elijah Contractor.
It wasn’t just that King didn’t like him and that brought me some sick kind of pleasure, I happened to genuinely enjoy Elijah. It was my first time having a friend without survival instincts. And he didn’t treat me any differently like everyone on campus did.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, thumping down on the couch next to him.
"Behavioral meeting."
" You? "
Surprise, surprise, the enforcer had a fresh black eye. Why he loved infuriating everybody, I had no idea. At least him being around gave me some peace. I could clearly see the grimaces from the circling vultures, waiting to ambush me again. No one wanted to approach while Ruthless was there.
He clapped his hands. "Ms. Pruitt wants a protein shake and a Reuben sandwich, with the works."
"I don’t want that?"
"Yeah, but I do. And she wants her cheese slices thick ." He grinned as some of the employees scuttled away to make the sandwich. "Damn, what else does Ms. Pruitt want? Uh…a pinata full of red jolly ranchers and—shit—what’s something hard to find?"
"My patience with you."
He burst into laughter, and I grinned, turning back to the remaining, nervous desk assistants, waiting on my command.
"We don’t want the pinata. We’re fine. Thank you."
"Hey, hey," he muttered, motioning me to look beyond the staircases. "There’s my sweetheart."
"I thought you two broke up again?"
"Just because she broke up with me, doesn’t mean she’s not my girlfriend."
I rolled my eyes, pulling out my phone. "Uh-huh."
"She came over last night. Stayed around to cuddle this time."
"Did you have to ask?"
Elijah scoffed but didn’t answer.
"You are nothing more than her dick on demand," I smirked. Elijah and I had lunch together a few times at Gianna’s where he pointed out Sloane, the waitress who publicly denied she had anything to do with him. "The day you realize that is the day you stop answering her calls."
"Goddamn, you’re mean today."
"Someone needs to be upfront with you. You’re a cock call, Elijah. End of story."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If I want to graduate from dick on demand…?"
"She’d have to see you as not on demand."
"Huh. So you’re saying if she thought I was potentially with a hot coach’s daughter?—"
"Nope. No way in—oh, Dad!" I beamed at the phone while the call blurred in and out of focus.
"Willie Low! Hold on, the boys want to see you."
The twins waved at the camera and my heart squeezed. "My babies! How’s Boston?"
My dad laughed. "No, you don’t get to do that, Campus Barbie ."
Elijah snickered, like he had anything to laugh about, and I quickly introduced Dad to the dented hockey player. It was also a good reminder to keep everything private. I liked Elijah but he didn’t know anything about my stage persona. I made the mistake once of telling someone without thinking about the consequences.
I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
"That article is ridiculous," I groaned.
Somehow the school paper captured a picture where I was smiling near Lawson, no doubt zoning out, imagining something better. But the damage was done.
They declared me, Campus Barbie.
The paper didn’t even mean it in a negative way. That I could handle. The whole article was about how my mom and I were bringing class and "needed femininity" to the Romans. Like I had anything to do with the football team beyond the photos I took to make my mom happy.
"How’s MU?"
I debated how to answer his question. "I’m ahead in my classes."
Two of which included a football player who hadn’t spoken one word to me since the first class. I pushed past the unwelcomed feelings again. Every time I saw King, he was silent. At first, I took it personally. But then I realized he treated everyone except his close friends like that.
The only reason it was bizarre to me was that he opened up before. Now? Closed like a bank safe.
Which was…whatever. Fine.
King didn’t mean anything to me anymore. A stupid mistake I made, just writing fodder for new songs which came aplenty. My new track— Mean Motherfucker— was getting great traction at the open mics. I even had numbers ticking up on Spotify.
A desk assistant brought the protein shake and sandwich just before Elijah was called into the meeting and he took them from her. "See you later, Pruitt."
I waved him away. "Don’t be an asshole."
"I’ll try."
As soon as he left, my dad gave a crinkly smile. "How are you really?"
"I’m fine, I promise."
"Are you still seeing Tattoos around?"
"I don’t want to talk about it."
"Willow," he sighed.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose and I glanced from my phone.
There they were.
The best friends forever, blood pact, cultist friend group who didn’t wander too far away from each other. Ryan, Kassie, Adam, Piper, and King.
King.
Gazing right at me, expressionless.
My hackles rose. The fact that we didn’t have sex— whatever . But why couldn’t he change classes? Why did he keep staring at me? Always hovering, so close at every turn? The same, tired, painful reminder of what happened?
"I don’t like that you have to see him every day," my dad muttered.
He was the first person I called after the storage closet. I unloaded the cleanest version possible and my dad had been livid but for what?
"It’s nothing. Just hurt feelings. Didn’t mean anything."
"Willow—"
"Dad. I gave you an update, now I need one. How’s Boston?"
"I tried talking to the dean again," my dad said, allowing the change of topic. "I might be able to get the same benefits I had in San Antonio."
Free tuition in Boston?
My eyes darted to King—still looking my way—and then dropped back to my phone.
"You know what?" I hesitated. "It wouldn’t hurt to ask."