True Blue (Imperium Coast #1)

Chapter 5

5

A nnoyance heats my blood as I walk back out to my suite’s living room area to grab another box off the pile beside my bedroom door. Christopher lays across one of the green couches, feet hanging off the edge and hands folded behind his head. He’s been lounging there since we arrived, after he asked for my login to the Wi-Fi and started streaming a baseball game on the TV across from him. Even made himself a coffee in the Keurig during a commercial break.

Amiria texted me a month ago that she got one, so I knew not to bring another, but I never got the chance to thank her for that info. I bite my lip, looking over at the other bedroom door. She wasn’t here when we arrived, Christopher following me as I heaved the rolling cart with all my stuff piled on into the suite. “I loaded some of the boxes onto it. I've done my part,” he said when I asked if he could help me get it all into my room.

I texted Mom after that, letting her know we made it to campus, the blue bubble joining the one above it telling her our flight landed a couple hours ago. She still hasn’t responded, but I figure she can’t use her phone while she’s at the fundraising event she has today.

Placing the box onto my bed, I open the flaps, revealing my shower stuff packed into the little caddy I got at Target last week. My summer was jam packed, with most days spent in the morning sun hammering nails and lifting frame pieces into place and then afternoons walking dogs at the shelter or feeding and cuddling the litter of kittens someone brought in after finding them on the side of the road. Weekends had also been scheduled by Mom with photo opportunities and public events so she could cash in on the last of the mother-daughter opportunities she could before I moved out of state. I spent the spare hours of free time I had shopping and packing for school on my own, forgetting to answer Amiria’s texts and not even being able to email Layla more than twice before it was suddenly moving day.

Arms wrap around my torso, making me jump and Christopher chuckle. His lips touch the side of my neck and I feel the usual nothing I get from his affection. “Take a break, babe. You have all week to get settled in.”

“I’ll have classes,” I say, pulling out of his hold and taking the caddy over to my desk. Straightening the bottles and then turning back, I walk past him to pull the folded cobalt towels from the box on my bed.

“Well, you don’t have to go to school, babe.” He catches me around the middle again, looking down at me once we’re chest to chest. “You know I’d take care of you.”

I hold back the urge to roll my eyes. “We’ve talked about this, Christopher,” I say, trying not to sound like I'm chastising a kid. I pull away, heading back toward my closet to put the towels away. “I don’t want to be a trophy wife. I want to go to school.”

“I still don’t get why you have to go so far away though. GSU is only an hour away from home and would probably cost your mom half as much in tuition.” He walks to the door, checking the TV to make sure his game is still on commercial.

I sigh. We’ve had this argument at least three times since I told him I got into the Coast. And every time it feels like he’s barely listening. Most of the time it feels like he’s barely listening.

“Mom went to Imperium. It’s where she met my dad.” And Aunt Tati, but I leave that part out.

I’ve never told Christopher anything about my life before Georgia and he’s never asked. But I know he talks with Mom sometimes and I don’t need him mentioning any of that to her and setting her off. She already drinks her weight in rosé every year on Dad’s birthday. Christopher would ask too many questions if she broke down in front of him because he didn’t know not to say something.

“And Mom is fine paying the out of state tuition. She’s already setting up an event to meet up with Alums in a couple weeks when she comes to visit, so me attending will pay off for her.” An off-campus event and only as a sanctioned campaign event. I doubt I’ll see my mother set foot inside Ring Road. She might have been excited for me to attend her alma mater, but only because it was not in Maine, and she could probably push aside the memories of Dad and Aunt Tati. It wasn’t the Coast she ran away from.

Christopher mumbles a mmhmm in response, drifting back to the living room and laying down again to watch more baseball. I finish with the box on my bed, breaking down the empty cardboard and sliding it into the pile in the back of my closet. Christopher shouts as something happens in his game and I head back for another box, my annoyance peaking yet again. I just want to go find Layla, but I can’t until he leaves, or he might rat me out to Mom and I do not want to deal with the headache of having that conversation over the phone.

“Why did you take that room?” Christopher asks, watching me as his head hangs over the side of the couch. Commercials play on the TV again which must be why I’ve caught his attention.

“Other one was taken,” I say, lifting another box. I opened the door to Amiria’s room when we first got here, finding her stuff mostly set up and some boxes stored inside. Not really caring which room I got, I just shut the door again and started unpacking my stuff into the other one.

“Wait, your roommate picked her room before you even got here?” He speaks in an affronted tone, but I know it’s not on my honor’s behalf. He grew up in wealth, never wanting for anything and getting his pick of whatever choices arose in his life. He’d never had a door closed to him before and probably couldn’t fathom the idea of someone choosing something for him. And seeing me as an extension of him, he feels I should always get the same treatment. I’d thought it was endearing when we first started dating, but now the arrogance and possessiveness of it rubs me the wrong way.

“It’s fine Christopher. I don’t care which room I'm in.” I count the boxes left, finding six still piled on the cart and debate just bringing them all into my room or continuing to unpack each one. Christopher will have to leave to catch his flight back soon and the moment he is gone, I plan on leaving to find Lay.

“She should have waited for you to pick rooms together. It’s just rude,” Christopher prattles on.

A knock on the open door calls both of our attention to the chestnut-haired girl standing just inside the suite. She’s taller than me. I can already tell from across the room. It’s not surprising since most people are taller than me, but it’s always the first thing I notice. She’s wearing heeled boots too which adds to her height.

“Hi,” she says, taking another step into the suite. Her voice is soft, and she glances from me to Christopher. “I’m Mira.” A few more steps toward me. “You must be Janette.” Her posture is tense, and she wrings her hands as she stands in front of me.

I start to nod, but Christopher cuts me off, jolting upright. “I thought your roommate's name was Amy or something?”

His voice scrapes my nerves at this point. “Amiria,” I correct him, walking back into my room to put the box down. I hoped she wouldn’t show up until Christopher left. Now he’s going to want to talk and interact with her, stake his claim in everything the way he always does with new people. And he’ll probably come on too strong. The less they interact the better, so I’ll need to make this interaction short if I want to go find Layla any time before dinner.

“Do you shower in the morning?” I ask, walking back into the living room. Christopher still sits up, the TV now off, and watches Mira who peeks over at him before answering.

“Um, usually,” she says. Already uncomfortable. I need to finish up and get him out of here.

I grab another box, saying, “Perfect. I usually shower at night, and I really didn’t want to have to change up my routine.” I bring the next one to my closet, setting it on the floor.

“You could always just come back home with me, J. Keep your routine exactly how it’s always been.” My spine snaps straight and I grind my teeth, dropping the box onto my bed in a rush. I hear something bang inside the box and curse under my breath. I need him gone.

Poking my head out the door, I plaster a faux smile on my face. “Nice try, Chris.” My voice comes out harsher than I want. “Mom already paid the tuition so there’s no backing out now.” I head back over to the box, ripping the flaps open and pulling stuff out. A mug broke near the bottom, the chunks scattered around the other random things packed in the box. I start pulling the pieces out and tossing them in the trash.

“Do you want some help?” Mira’s voice drifts into the room and I drop the pieces in my hand back into the box to run back out to the living room. She reaches for my bedside lamp sitting on top of one of my boxes, but I slide in between her and the pile. If she gets involved, Christopher’s interest will peak. He always flirted with any of the girls who tried to befriend me in high school, and I didn’t want him making Mira uncomfortable or overstaying his welcome.

“No, it’s okay,” I say hurriedly. “It looked like you had plenty to unpack yourself.”

Mira takes a step back and I realize how rude I sound. She starts wringing her hands again. “Okay. Um, about that Keurig. I texted you to make sure?—”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, remembering the text. I grab my lamp, needing to finish moving the boxes so I can kick Christopher out. “I don’t drink coffee. The caffeine is really bad for you.” I try to think of something to say to make up for my abruptness but can’t and just end up walking back into my room. Taking a moment, I stand by my bed, lamp in hand and breathe. I’m fucking this up. Panic starts to bubble up in my throat and I try the breaths I read about. In through my nose, out through my mouth.

The sound of keys jangling interrupts my breathing. “All set. This your new roommate?” a new voice says. A new male voice. My eyes fly open. The only thing that could make this worse is Christopher getting into a pissing match with Mira’s boyfriend.

I rush to the doorway, saying, “No, that’d be me.” The last word dies on my tongue as I put my hands on my hips and take in the guy standing beside Mira in the living room. His hazel eyes find mine as I openly gape at him. He’s massive, taller than Mira, and probably taller than Christopher. Broader too. His baseball shirt clings to his chest, the black sleeves cutting across his shoulders to show off his build. Christopher always wears crisp button downs, trying to look more like his father, but they always make him look stiff. This guy looks comfortable in his clothes, right down to the worn-out converse on his feet.

I realize I'm openly checking him out in front of my boyfriend. And Mira. I change my expression to disdain, not wanting her to think I’m interested in her guy and blatantly making it obvious. Pulling my eyes back up to Mira’s, I say, “This your boyfriend?” trying to sound unimpressed.

Mira shakes her head. “No, Bentley’s just a friend.”

Christopher sits up on the couch. A flutter goes through my gut and the panic returns. If Bentley was Mira’s boyfriend, Christopher might not be too bad. But now he’ll be unbearable. Even if he leaves right now, he’ll be texting every few days asking if Bentley’s around, what I think of him, making comments about not liking him. It’s how he was with every unattached guy I’ve ever interacted with in front of him before, no matter how innocuous.

Bentley’s voice pulls me out of the panic swirling inside me. “You wound me,” he says and clutches his chest, looking down at Mira. She frowns up at him.

Christopher suddenly stands. “You gay or something?” He steps closer to Bentley and Mira and the panic climbs higher in my stomach, matching the growing tension in the room. I dig my hands further into my hips, trying to ground myself.

Bentley glares at Christopher as his eyes switch over to him. Christopher tries to stand taller, but Bentley has a few inches on him, even in his relaxed posture. “You have a problem with it if I was?”

Christopher’s shoulders fall as he backs down a bit. “No, just want to make sure you’re not sniffing around my girl.”

I tighten my grip again, pinching myself so I don’t scream. Ignoring the urge, I snort, forcing myself to say, “Babe, come on. This guy is so not my type.” I grab a box and rush into my room to hide my face as heat rises on my neck and chest from the lie. Having more of my father’s darker complexion probably saves me a bit, but feeling the flush always makes me think people can see it all over my face.

“Don’t worry,” Bentley calls as I hide in my room. “Snob isn’t mine.” The words stab into me, and I hug the box tighter against my abdomen. My mom’s face flashes in my mind, the fake laughter she uses for investors, practiced smiles and perfectly honed expressions of shock or outrage that she can pull out perfectly when needed. I always thought I wasn’t like her. Not the her she is now. Senator Mom and Maine Mom are very separate in my mind, and I held onto the memories of Maine Mom every time she would cancel on me or schedule me for an appearance somewhere so I wouldn’t be in her hair. But maybe being around the Senator the last five years has affected me more than I thought. My first reaction to Mira and Bentley had been being a bitch and I’m not even really sure why.

I hear Christopher grind out, “Stay away from Janette.” His footsteps draw closer, and a door closes in the living room. I put the box on the floor next to the other I dropped earlier, going back over to the one on my bed and picking up the pieces of the broken mug again.

Christopher sits next to the box, looking up at me. “Want me to stay the night, babe?”

I grip the shard of ceramic a little too tight, a piece slicing into my palm. Wincing, I pull my hand back from the box. “No, it’s fine.” I walk over to my desk, getting a Band-Aid out of my purse. “You have work tomorrow and already bought the ticket home.” I walk out to the kitchen, running the faucet and holding my hand under the water. Mira’s door is closed, and I hear faint music coming from the other side.

Christopher comes out of my room and leans against the doorframe. “I could call in sick.”

Shaking my head, I turn off the faucet and grab a paper towel off the roll I left on the counter earlier. “Your dad will be mad at me if you call in sick just to stay here. And then my mom will hear about it and chastise me for distracting you and not supporting you. She’d never forgive me if I distracted the son of her biggest backer and caused a rift between her and your dad.” I roll my eyes, and Christopher pushes off the wall, coming over to me.

“Okay, babe. But I already got dad to promise me the company jet to come see you next week. And you better be distracting me while I'm here.” He kisses the side of my head as I peel the paper off the Band-Aid, ignoring his words.

“You should probably get going,” I say, nodding toward the clock on the microwave. “You still have to give back the car and your flight leaves at four fifteen.”

He glances at the time. “Shit. Yeah, I better get going.” He ducks back into my room, grabbing his keys and wallet off my desk and tucking them into his pockets. I walk to the door, meeting him as he walks out. “I’ll see you on Friday, babe.” He leans down, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing me. “Try not to miss me too much,” he says with a wink before walking out of the suite. I lean back against the doorframe, closing my eyes.

“Cute.” Bentley’s voice forces my eyes open, and I watch him as he walks past me and into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabs a water bottle and closes it quickly. “You two seem good for each other,” he adds with a smirk. Something hot rages in my blood and I clench my fists. “Try not to miss him too much,” he mocks before going back into Mira’s room with a chuckle. I step fully into my room, slamming the door closed behind me.

Standing in my new dorm, finally alone, I try to erase the image of Bentley’s condescending face from my mind. My cell buzzes on the desk and I walk over to the perfectly timed distraction.

Mom

Glad to hear it. See you in a few weeks.

I stare at Mom’s text, reading it a couple of times before clearing the notification. The heat simmers to a low boil, as I look at the framed picture of Dad sitting next to my purse. It was the first thing I unpacked, keeping it in my bag to make sure it got here unscathed.

“Back at your old stomping grounds, Dad.” Tears blur the edge of my vision.

Another text makes my phone shake in my hand, and I look down, seeing Layla’s name pop up.

Layla C.

Are you done unpacking yet? Dad finally left and I kicked Gwen out with him, so you better be free.

I smile and wipe my eyes, replying that I’m coming down.

Excitement and nerves crash against each other as I grab my room keys and walk out of the suite, abandoning the rest of my boxes. Walking down to the elevator, I tap my foot while I wait.

What if we don’t click? What if too much has changed, too much time has passed? What if I say stupid shit like I did with Mira?

The doors open and I step inside, feeling my stomach lurch as it descends to the first floor. My phone vibrates again.

Layla C.

Can’t wait!!

I squeeze the keys in my other hand, feeling the new wound throb in my palm.

The elevator dings as the doors open again and I step off, walking slowly down the hall toward 126. A few people still have their doors open, but I keep my eyes ahead as I pass, checking the numbers of each room to double and triple check I'm heading in the right direction while my heart pounds in my ears.

125 appears ahead and I look to the other side, seeing the black numbers painted on the wall next to the open door of Layla’s room. With one more deep breath, I step into view, seeing Layla for the first time since Mom moved us to Georgia. She sits on her bed, reading something on her phone, but only a second passes before she looks up, muddy brown eyes locking with mine.

Layla screams, jumping up from the bed and rushing me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and mine automatically encircle her waist, relief momentarily paralyzing my brain as I try to catch up with seeing her again. And then we’re jumping and laughing, and I can feel the tears from earlier spilling down my face.

“Janette,” she says, squeezing me tighter. I can hear the tears in her voice, and it makes me sniffle.

“Hi, Layla.” I close my eyes and we just keep hugging.