Chapter 3 Roommates
Roommates
Maisie
Finally, classes and practices are over for the week, and we’re ringing in the weekend.
“That color is divine on you.” Angie, my roommate, positively beams at my black skintight dress. “I’m so jealous of your tan,” she whines.
I laugh. “Well, I’m jealous of these curls!” I counter, pulling on one of her blonde ringlets.
“Why?” she scoffs. “They are so hard to manage.”
“Ummm, ’cause they’re beautiful. Just like you.” I wink.
Angie has quickly become my best friend at college, and thank god, because I’ve heard horror stories about freshman roommates. She swims, so we have the same schedule, and even though we could not be more different, we clicked from the very start.
Angie trips over a pile of clothes on her way to the floor-length mirror hanging over one of the closets.
“You’re gonna sprain an ankle one of these days if you don’t keep your side cleaner,” I scold.
“Just because your dad instilled that little neat freak that lives inside of you doesn’t mean my mess is wrong.” She rolls her eyes, still smiling.
She met my dad on move-in day. Her parents hadn’t come to help, so mine instantly adopted her.
My dad couldn’t help making her bed for her, teaching her his favorite method, and then bouncing a quarter off it.
Angie ate it up, but she loves to poke fun at my inner neat freak—which, yes, I got from my dad.
For me, though, neatness is less a game and more an expectation.
He’s often different with others than he is with me.
“Whatever you say. But don’t come crying to me when you have to explain to Coach why you’re hurt. From what you’ve said, he’s a hard-ass about not doing stupid things.”
“Hey!” she squeaks. “I’ll clean it up later this weekend. Now, can we focus on the party? I’ve been eyeing up some of the men’s team, and I’m hoping to have some fun tonight.” She waggles her eyebrows. “If you ditched dirtbag, maybe you could also enjoy yourself tonight.”
I’m about to contradict her statement when I see “Mom” flash across my cell. I accept the call, holding up a finger to silence Angie, and brace for a conversation with my mom.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
“Hi, honey. Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see what you and Karsen were up to tonight.”
She’s always loved Karsen. I mean, I get it—he’s handsome, comes from a good family, excels at most things—but sometimes, it feels like she likes him even more than me, and that shit hurts. My dad, on the other hand, can’t seem to stand him.
My heart pounds at the thought of telling my mom what I’ve been thinking lately. That I’m not sure Karsen and I are so good together, and that I feel a little…lost. I wish I could talk to her about it, but I know she’d just shove me in Karsen’s direction.
“He has plans tonight, actually. Angie and I are going to go to a party with the team.”
“Oh,” she says, the disappointment in her voice palpable. Exactly why I can’t say anything to her when it comes to him. “Well, have fun with the girls.”
“Will do. Look, Mom, we’re about to head out, so I’ve gotta go.”
“Of course, sweetie. Give my best to Karsen when you see him.”
“Will do.” I stifle a groan, then hang up.
Angie is still checking her outfit in the mirror. “I, for one, am glad asswipe isn’t joining us tonight. Also, I think it’s weird how much your mom is obsessed with him. Like, why?”
Her words are like a nail to a scratch-off on my heart.
“He’s not an asswipe, Ang.” I pin her with a glare.
Although sometimes he can be. “And it’s the only thing my mom and I have found common ground on in a while.
I’m way more like my dad. I think she was hoping for the perfect little princess she could dress up and show off, but instead she got me, a nerdy athlete.
But at least with me having a boyfriend, she can focus on that.
I know it’s not ideal.” I let out a deep breath.
“Whatever you say.” Angie swipes a final layer of gloss over her lips, recognizing I’m done with this conversation. “Let’s go.”
The Swim House—where some of the team’s seniors live and which takes on the role of party house for the year—is packed.
The theme for the night is the 2000s. I’m not usually one for parties, and being around all these people has my internal temperature rising, but Angie really wanted me to come.
Plus, these are my teammates, and I want to get to know them better.
I haven’t exactly bridged the gap into any sort of social relationship with any of them other than Ang, so now might be the perfect opportunity.
I take a deep breath, willing myself to cool.
Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the U.S.A.” blasts through the speaker system as we make our way past everyone dancing in the middle of the living room and halt in front of the makeshift bar—essentially a table with a giant beverage dispenser with who-knows-what in it and a large stack of red Solo cups.
My stomach churns. I’ve never been a big drinker.
“You’re picking at your nails again,” Angie says. I hadn’t even noticed. “This will help with your nerves.” She hands me a cup.
I don’t know if she’s right or not, but I accept her offering nonetheless and take a sip.
I scan the crowd. There are lots of familiar faces, but I don’t know everyone’s names yet.
It’s a big team, although our little diving portion only consists of six of us.
I continue glossing over the nameless faces until I home in on a familiar one.
Connor.
He’s already looking my way, and our eyes lock across the room.
Before I can react, he’s making his way over to me.
He’s rocking linen pants and a loose white button-down with the first several buttons undone.
For a flash, my eyes dart to his strong chest before quickly returning to his face.
He’s dressed a step above every other guy at this party, but he’s also smart to wear linen.
The heat in this room could probably fry an egg—unless it’s truly just my anxieties continuing to burn me up.
“Hey, Maisie,” he greets me casually when he reaches us.
“Hi, I’m Angie,” Angie says, then takes a large gulp of her drink. “Who are you?” She bats her eyelashes, coy smile firmly in place, and the muscles in my stomach tighten. She’s on the prowl tonight, and for some reason, I don’t want Connor to be her target.
He laughs. “Connor. Nice to meet you, Angie.”
Her gaze latches onto something or someone beyond Connor’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back,” she says, eyes still entangled with whatever or whoever they are locked onto. She turns to me briefly. “You okay?”
“Yep, I’ll be fine here with Connor. Thanks.” My stomach relaxes as she saunters away.
When I look back at Connor, I can’t help but notice his eyes. They are a beautiful combination of blue and green with a brown halo around the pupil. Even in the dim light, they are stunning. I think I stare a little too long because he smirks, and my cheeks instantly heat.
“No Karsen tonight?” he asks. His words are casual, but his jaw is clenched. Interesting.
“Not tonight. Roomie night out,” I say.
“So Angie’s your roommate?”
“Yep.” Another lash of pain lances through my stomach at his mention of Angie. What is happening? I take a sip of my drink, hoping it will chill me the fuck out.
My eyes wander to the dance floor involuntarily, and Connor follows my gaze.
“Want to dance?” he asks, holding out a hand.
Do I? Karsen would hate that I’m hanging out with Connor alone, but it’s only a dance, and Connor is currently the only sort of friend I’ve made besides Angie, who is currently god knows where.
“Sure,” I say, chugging the rest of my drink for courage before setting the cup down and taking his hand. Then he leads us toward the center of the dancing bodies.