Chapter 10
Please don’t lie to me. Not this time
“You’re early,” Donovan said when he met me halfway toward our first morning class.
“I barely slept all night. I was ready to get up before my alarm even went off.”
“Oh, that explains the curled hair, then.”
“Yes. I had a lot of time to kill. I almost forgot. The weirdest thing happened this morning.”
“What?”
“The landline in our dorm room rang like four times from an unknown number, and each time, I could hear someone breathing on the other end, but no voices. At first, I thought it was a wrong number, but…I don’t know… It felt off. This is the second time it’s happened in just a couple of weeks.”
“Maybe their phone was broken somehow, or the line had static, and you couldn’t hear them.”
“Maybe… Nobody ever calls us there except Cassie’s and my family. I’ll check with my parents tonight.” I flicked my wrist. “It’s stupid. I don’t know why I’m still thinking about it. Never mind.”
We walked in silence for a minute while I chased away the uneasiness I’d experienced earlier once and for all.
Donovan fished a container out of his messenger bag and handed it to me. “Scone? My mom sent a batch yesterday. They’re delish. I’m sure you could use some pick-me-up food.”
“Blueberries?”
“Always. She’s supposed to try some raspberry and cream cheese ones next month. She said we would be her testing team from now on. You in?”
“Absolutely. Your mom’s baking reminds me of my best friend in high school. She was always trying new recipes. She was great at it.”
Donovan gave me a quizzical stare. “That friend?”
I had confided in him about my past. Not everything, but some parts of it.
One day, after we finished training, he admitted that, when he was younger, he’d struggled with body image and his sexuality and used to be bullied because of it.
He had spent three months at a live-in treatment facility for eating disorders when he was fifteen.
Our struggles were another thing we bonded over, and one of the reasons we became such fast friends.
We just understood each other and never judged the other.
I was his support system, and he had become mine. It was that simple.
I opened the lid but hesitated before taking a bite, staring at the scone.
“No, you’re not doing that.”
I snapped out of it. “What?”
“Hesitating. Counting calories. Wait, when did it start again?”
I blinked. How could he tell? I was sure my staring lasted less than three seconds.
“Mel. Be honest. We already talked about that. We tell each other when we’re struggling. Talk.”
“The other night. With Cassie. We were having pizza, and it just happened. I didn’t plan on doing it. Numbers kept popping into my mind.”
“Did you tell anyone? Your support group?”
“Nah. It’s nothing. It was a one-time thing. I was under some stress. It’s okay now.”
“Are you sure? Because you looked at that pastry like it had wronged you somehow. Girl, I know the look.”
“Fine. I just wondered how many calories were in the scone. Happy now?”
He touched my forearm. “Don’t be mad at me. I’m here for you. Does it happen often?”
“Nah. Just once. Before that episode, I had no idea when it had last happened. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you. Just in case.”
I sighed. “You don’t have to.”
He squeezed my arm. “I insist. That’s what friends are for.”
“Thanks.” I felt bad for being caught but also grateful I had someone watching over me, who knew just how bad my inner struggles could become sometimes.
“Are you ready for today’s test?”
I nodded, grateful for the change of subject, as I sipped my to-go coffee.
“It’s seriously the most boring class I have this semester.
I’m not sure how they can quiz us on public speaking and communication processes.
Someone in my Applied Writing class said nobody failed Intro to Comm because the professor has no interest in seeing the same faces semester after semester. I guess we’ll see.”
We sidestepped to the right to clear the way for a group of students climbing down the stairs of Elizabeth Edison Hall before making our way inside.
“You coming to the swim team party next week?” my friend asked once we took our seats, and I pushed my book bag under the desk after lining up my pens and notebook on top.
“No.” I offered him an apologetic smile.
“I’m working from five to eleven. George agreed to give me Saturday night off since we have a meet on Sunday.
I’m trying to work as much as I can during the week, so he doesn’t fire my ass since I often need a night off on the weekends.
He’s a big fan of the university’s varsity teams, so it helps, but I don’t wanna appear difficult or feel like I need special favors. ”
“Yeah, I get it. We could do brunch at Hot Shot on Saturday morning and study. Is Cassidy working? I hate it when it’s the old barista guy. He always wants to kick us out if we hog a table for more than an hour without ordering every five minutes.”
“He takes commitment to the next level. At first, I believed he was the owner. Anyway, she’ll be there all day Saturday.”
“Awesome.”
The teaching assistant walked in. “Morning, guys. As announced last week, we have a test today. You can leave once you’re done.
The assignment, which is due next class, will be posted on the website and on the bulletin board by my office door.
You can email me or meet with me if you have questions.
I'm responsible for grading these quizzes, under Professor Suleman’s watch, and I’ll be taking this class over from now on until the end of the semester. Any questions?”
A girl sitting ahead of us asked something I didn’t quite catch about a reading we had to do for next week, and a guy one row behind us asked about office hours.
The class started soon after, and for the next forty minutes, I focused on the paper in front of me.
Donovan had left ten minutes ago and waved at me before walking out of the room.
Satisfied with my answers, I reached the front of the class and handed my test sheet to the teaching assistant.
He scanned the piece of paper with a frown before smiling at me. “You did great.”
“Thank you.” He stared at me for a bit, and I felt self-conscious.
The guy was twenty-two at the most and had longish blond hair and brown eyes.
He wasn’t my type, but from the way he eyed me, I was pretty confident I was his.
Before things got too awkward, he dismissed me with a wave. “See you next class, Miss—”
“Shepard.”
He bobbed his head once and brought his attention to a stack of papers set on the corner of his desk.
Before he changed his mind and struck up a conversation, I bolted out of there, relishing the fresh air once I stepped down the stairs.
I turned left and took the pathway leading to the quad in the direction of my next class.
“Table eleven requested you,” Barry, the barman, said between mouthfuls of the sandwich he was devouring as I entered the employee break room to discard my jacket and purse in one of the lockers.
There was a drizzle outside, and I had rushed here after my training, not wanting to look like a wet puppy all night in case the hair I’d spent fifteen minutes blow-drying got damp.
I glanced at my watch. “I’m not on the clock for another ten minutes.”
“I know. The guy asked if you were working tonight and to send you over when you arrived.”
I winced. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Mason tonight. Who else would request me? Other than my roommate and two closest friends on campus, I didn’t think I was on anyone else’s radar.
“Want me to ask Damon to deal with it?” Barry asked, probably noticing my annoyed expression.
Almost as old as George, the owner, Barry had worked at Lola’s since its early days.
He always made sure the servers were treated with respect by the customers.
He started as a barman after his baseball career at Crestwood University took an abrupt end due to an elbow injury back in the day.
“Nah. Thanks, though. I’ll take care of it.
” I adjusted my T-shirt and the apron around my waist, making sure I had at least two pens and a notepad in there, and tied my hair in a high ponytail.
Grabbing the pink-tinted lip gloss I kept in my pocket, I coated my lips and smacked them together.
With one last glance in the small mirror mounted on the wall by the door, I made sure my mascara wasn’t smudged due to the rain, and I looked just how I should.
“Hey, Mel.” I turned to face Barry before making my exit. “If that guy is bothering you, please ask Damon to kick his ass out. George wouldn’t want his newest employee being harassed by some I can’t take no for an answer dickhead.”
I nodded. “I will.”
I had three more minutes left before the beginning of my shift, but I was too curious about what Mason wanted to wait any longer before making my way to his table.
I halted when I neared table eleven. The guy making eye contact with me looked nothing like my neighbor back home.
Darker hair, thick brows, brown eyes, and cheek dimples.
“Jett?” I perused around us, wondering if Jules was here too, until I noticed a single glass of water on the table next to a basket of garlic bread and a side of coleslaw.
He waved at me and grinned. “Hey. I hope it’s okay I’m here. The guy behind the bar said your shift started at five, and I didn’t really order because I wanted to wait for you.”
I reeled in my surprise and nodded. “Yeah. Sure. You’re hungry?”
“Starving. I drove right here after hockey practice, and I only had a protein shake for lunch. I’m dreaming of a burger with a basket of onion rings and a house salad.
I had no idea if you would be here, but I took a chance.
Shawn and Jules told me to stay away from his apartment until eight.
They’ve planned a romantic evening, so I need to kill some time before I can go over there. ”