Chapter 79
Emery
It’s not until I’m walking up the steps to my dorm that I realize my head is so freaking messy that I forgot to go to my math class.
“Urgh,” I groan and drop my head onto the glass door. Probably not hygienic, but whatever.
“Ems?”
Turning around, I spot Oakley coming up the path to our building. “Hey,” I reply and then do a double take, because what the hell has she done to her eyebrows? Before I can stop myself, I gesture at my own eyebrows. “Ah, what—”
She cuts me off, palm up in between us as she makes it up the stairs, drawing level with me. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
My eyes are wide as she swipes her pass and the latch beeps. “Okay.”
But holy fuck, I really want to talk about it.
They are thick. And so, so dark. Like too thick and too dark. They look like squashed mocha caterpillars. We make it up the first flight of stairs before she spins around to face me on the landing. The intense pissed off look on her face causes me to stumble back a step.
“I asked for a reshape and a light brown tint. I have no idea what the hell happened, but whatever this”—she waves her splayed fingers around her face—“is, it has to be fixed pronto. So, now you get to help me fix it.”
Carefully, I reach up and touch one of the caterpillars with the tip of my finger, and it crunches under my touch. “Serious question, did you go to an actual salon?”
Oakley deflates. “No. I saw that the beauty school down the road from campus needed models for their trainees. I needed my eyebrows done, and they were offering half off.”
“Babe, I hate to break it to you, but they definitely added half on.” I have to bite my lip to stop my smile.
Oakley stares at me for several seconds before she starts laughing, then kind of crying. “You are so mean. Why do I even like you?”
I shrug, then give her a hug. “I ask myself this every day.”
Oakley straightens and turns to march up the last flight of stairs. “Come on, we need to figure out how to fix this without removing my eyebrows.”
As I follow her up the stairs, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach for it and see that I have a message from Will.
Will: Hey, are you okay? Missing you in class.
I quickly tap out a reply.
Me: Hey, yeah, I’m fine. Wasn’t feeling up to being in class today. I’ll watch the replay tonight and check in on the group notes. Sorry for making you worry.
The white lie burns my fingertips, but what else am I going to say?
Hey, sorry, had some super emotional connections with two out of the four men who dickmatized me into thinking they actually cared, then dropped me like a hot potato and are now doing their best to convince me they actually do care, and it’s kind of working?
Yeah, not doing that.
My feet hit the landing to our floor as bubbles appear.
Will: Is there anything I can bring you?
I pause with my thumbs poised to type a response but am distracted by a message from Xavier. The way my heart kicks up its pace is unhealthy, but I’ve barely heard from him since he left.
I tap on the notification, and it takes me straight to his message.
Xavier: Have you told anyone that you aren’t feeling well?
I roll my eyes at the door and come to a complete stop as Oakley gets the door open.
Wait…
Me: How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?
Xavier: Answer the question.
Me: Did you hack my phone?
There isn’t even an ounce of surprise inside me as I type the message, because of course he did. Seriously. First, the cameras in my dorm and then tracking my phone. What else has he bugged?
Like my wrist is magnetized, my gaze drags from my screen to the gold bracelet he insisted on me wearing.
No.
He wouldn’t do that, right?
Like, that’s actually insane. Tracking me like that.
Pinching the bracelet with my thumb and forefinger, I rub over the DHDX marked into the disc and try to assess whether it is big enough to have a hidden tracker inside of it. It’s pretty thin, and the actual circle is barely bigger than my thumbnail. So, no, right?
Those tag tracker things you can buy at the store are at least twice the size.
I’m going with no. Even if it’s just for my mental health.
Xavier hasn’t answered my question, and if I know him half as well as I think I do, then I’m going to safely assume that he isn’t going to answer me.
Fine. Whatever.
Me: I’m fine. Just left Hudson’s office, he can confirm my health status.
I swap back over to Will’s messages.
Me: I’m okay. Just going to chill out in bed. I should be fine after a nap.
I follow Oakley, who is mumbling about something as she dumps her things, into her room. Closing the main door behind me, I lean against it as I swap back to read Xavier’s reply.
Xavier: He did. I’ll be back tomorrow, but you won’t see me until Friday.
Me: Okay. I assume there is no point in asking where you’ve been?
A notification pops up from Will, and I swap back, ready for this back-and-forth to be over.
Will: I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.
Will: I was actually going to let you know where I’m taking you after the game on Friday. But since you aren’t here, I’ve decided I’m going to keep it a secret *private investigator emoji*
My heart lodges itself in my throat.
The date with Will. Fuck, it totally slipped my mind. Okay, um. No, this is fine. It’s good, actually. Me and him in a romantic situation. We can hold hands and maybe even kiss. And then I’ll know if he makes my toes curl.
Or if he makes my body zap with electricity.
Or if my soul suddenly feels like it is whole for the first time in my life.
With a shaky breath, I type out my reply.
Me: Mean *tongue sticking out emoji*
The message doesn’t even get a chance to say delivered and goes straight to read.
Will: I promise you’ll really like where we are going.
I can’t help but tease him a little.
Me: As long as it’s not another frat party, I’m sure it will be great.
Will: If you could see my face right now *face palm emoji*
Will: I swear, no more frat parties.
Will: So we are still good for Friday night? Hockey then dinner?
A notification appears from Xavier.
Xavier: There is only one correct answer to his question.
I swipe the notification away, not even bothering to open it before I reply to Will.
Me: I would love to, send me the details!
“Ems!”
My jump from hearing my name screeched in real life would be hysterical if I didn’t bang my hip on the door handle.
“Ouch, fuck. Coming!” Dumping my stuff on the table, I hustle to the bathroom as I rub my hip. “I have no idea how you think I’m going to be able to help…”