Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Liv picks at the granola on top of her yogurt. “I wish they didn’t put these things in here.”
“What?” I ask. “The dried cranberries? They’re good.”
“Whatever happened to good old-fashioned raisins?”
I shrug. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, too early for such a demanding gastronomical question.
As usual, the dining hall is nearly empty this early on a Friday.
In fact, Liv and I wouldn’t normally be here either, but my Thursday night sleepovers at O-Chi are a thing of the past. Liv’s, however, haven’t been. Not until this week.
“So, uh, you came home last night for a change.” My attempt to sound casual comes out strained.
“Yeah, well, you know—” She idly stirs her yogurt.
“Know what?”
She drops her spoon with a clank and her shoulders sag.
“Liv,” I urge gently. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Ask Braden.” She shakes her head and goes back to picking cranberries out of her granola. “Cause he’s acting like something’s crawled up his butt and died.”
Thanks to Zander, I know exactly what that thing is, but I keep it to myself. If I can get Liv out of harm’s way without her ever knowing Braden’s true feelings, then I’ll feel like I’ve done my job. No blood, no foul, as they say.
“PMS?” I joke.
Her lips twitch into an almost-smile. “If you’re talking about mood swings, then yeah. He hardly even talked to me last night, not until after the party, and then he was all like, ‘Hey baby, where you been all night? Let’s go get it on.’”
Stomach clenching, I put down my forkful of pancakes.
She grabs the top corners of her food tray and leans closer, close enough that I can see the fire in her eyes. “And you know what?”
“What?”
“I was like, ‘Fuck that, I’m going home.’”
I stifle my gasp, but I can’t call back my smile. This is progress. Significant progress. There was a time she would’ve considered such an offer from His Majesty to be worthy of her deepest gratitude. Any attention is good attention, right? Well, not anymore. My girl is learning she has value.
“What did he do when you said that?”
She shrugs, “I don’t know. I didn’t stick around to find out.”
Even better progress than I thought. She wasn’t just trying to make him beg.
She sips her coffee and sighs. “It just sucks, you know? I thought things with him would get better after a while, but they haven’t. He’s still just—” She waves a hand in the air, grasping for words.
“He’s still just Braden?”
“Yeah. And I mean really Braden. Like the Braden-iest Braden of all the Bradens.” She’s giggling, and it makes me so happy I giggle right along with her. But suddenly she stops. “You don’t think he’s being like this because of the whole KPT blackball thing, do you?”
I’m too caught off guard by the question to answer. Or rather, to figure out a nice way to tell the truth.
But it turns out I don’t need to. “He likes sorority girls,” she says. “Like, the really stuck-up ones.”
“Seems like it.”
Liv slides her tray to the side so she can put her elbows on the table and wrap both hands around her mug. “Can I be honest?”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“If I wasn’t scared I’d lose Sweetheart, I’d tell him to go fuck himself.”
“You won’t lose Sweetheart,” I say. “It’s a done deal.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the O-Chi president told me.”
She bites her lip, deep brown eyes hesitant.
“Really,” I insist. “The brothers have voted you in, and that’s that. So it doesn’t matter what happens with you and Braden.”
She nods, tapping her nails on the ceramic mug. “Good to know.”
An hour later she stands in the center of our dorm room, hands on her hips and eyes on the floor. “This carpet is gross,” she declares. “I’m going to get the vacuum.”
Ah, I know what’s happening here. Manic cleaning as a form of closure is one of the many things Liv and I have in common. I tell her to go for it, optimistic that this urge to sweep reflects a desire to suck up Braden and toss him out with the trash.
She returns from the first-floor cleaning closet with not only the vacuum, but also a bin of cleaners, rags, and sponges.
“Don’t you have an eleven o’clock class?” I ask her.
“Yup.” She tosses a rag at me. “So get busy and dust your desk.”
I have some reading to do for World Religions at 1:00, but I obey, eager to help her ‘cleanse.’
She drops a stack of books onto her bed and dusts the filthy desk shelf where they stood, grumbling about how disgusting it is. “Do they not have filters in the HVAC here?”
“Couldn’t tell you.”
“Oh, by the way,” she says, so off-handedly I can tell she’s faking it. “Guess who texted me?”
I try to shake my head, but I sneeze instead. It’s scary-dusty in the back corners of my desk.
“Remember that guy Liam? The one we met at BuRN?”
“Yeah, I remember him. That was only, what, two weeks ago?” Please, please, please tell me he asked you out and you said yes.
She turns her back to me, supposedly to rearrange the contents of her top desk drawer. “And you remember Josh, right?”
“Yes.” The suspicion in my voice is enough to get her to face me again.
“You thought he was hot, didn’t you?”
“Uh, yeah. Very much so.”
“Did you—I mean, would you—would you want to go out on a double date?”
I hesitate. What I want is to want to go out on a double date. I want to trust men again and give a nice guy like Josh a chance.
And I want to not have feelings for Leo.
“I liked Josh,” I finally say, hoping Liv will understand. “But honestly, I don’t think I’m ready to date again. Not yet.”
“Yeah, okay. Of course.” Her casual tone belies her disappointment.
“You absolutely should go out with Liam, though. He seems really awesome, like, really, really nice.”
“Yeah—” She busies herself unwinding the vacuum cleaner cord.
“Seriously, Liv, why wouldn’t you?”
“I probably will.” She fires up the vacuum, rendering conversation impossible.
Yes, she will, because I’ll nag her every night until she gives in. Liam might not last more than a few dates, but he and Josh are proof frat boys can be gentlemen. And Liv needs to know there are plenty of guys better than Braden.
She shuts off the vacuum and rests her weight on the handle. “So you not wanting to go out with Josh, is that because of Zander—” Her eyes narrow ever so slightly, like she’s trying to see inside me. “Or because of Leo?”
“Leo?” His name is like a kick in the stomach. I catch my breath and put all my focus into dusting every corner, crevice, and knickknack on my desk, willing away the heat shooting up my neck. “Why would it be about Leo?”
“Okay, don’t get pissed, but...”
Dammit, her pause is so long, I’m forced to turn around and prompt her. “But what?”
“Last night Zander said something—I mean, I don’t know if it’s true, because you would’ve told me, right?”
Shit. My stomach twists into a knot. “It’s true.”
Her jaw drops. “Seriously? You slept with Leo?”
I nod and set down the picture frame I was dusting, one that holds a photo of Liv and me taken in this very room.
“Betts, what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?” Her words are accusatory, but her energy is nearly one hundred percent concern.
I draw in a shaky breath. “Because it was a mistake.”
“Why? What happened?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal, even though it’s a huge one. At least to me. “It just wasn’t what I thought it was.” He wasn’t what I thought he was.
She screws up her face, disbelieving. “You mean he’s not into you?”
“I don’t know,” I say, being honest for once. If she’d asked me this a week ago, I would’ve confidently said he wasn’t, that he was carelessly using me. But now?
A chuisle mo chroí.
Now, I don’t know anything anymore.
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“It’s complicated? Really?” Liv rests her fists on her hips. “First you didn’t tell me, and now you’re giving me ‘it’s complicated?’” She’s trying to look indignant, but hurt and worry are coming off her in waves.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have.” At least I wish I could have. “But it doesn’t matter. Leo and I are still friends and everything is fine.”
“Friends?” She snorts. “Okay, please. You two were never friends.” She grabs my sleeve. “You’re hurt; I can tell. What did he do?”
I sink onto my bed. There are lies I could tell her and lies I have to tell her, but for the first time in a while, I don’t want to do either. I need her.
Eyes on my folded hands, I admit, “Zander was right; Leo was lying.” About some things, but big things. And all the longing looks, jealous glares, and Irish endearments don’t erase that fact.
Liv’s entire demeanor softens in sympathy, so much sympathy I have to bite back tears. “He really was lying to you?”
I nod.
“Oh, Betts, I’m so sorry.”
I sigh and stretch, shaking off the sadness threatening to consume me.
“So he isn’t even a student?” she asks.
“No, he’s a… researcher.”
“So he’s what, like, a grad student? Why would he lie about that?”
“Who knows?” Because he thought it would be easier if I didn’t know the truth? Yeah, easier for whom?
Liv’s eyes widen. “Is he not supposed to date students?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if he’s a TA or an instructor or something, would he even be allowed to go out with you?”
“Oh. No, he’s not… in a teaching position.” I rise and pick up my dust rag. “But it doesn’t matter,” I rush to say. “It was a one-time thing, and it’s over, so it’s all good.”
Liv frowns, not at all convinced. But she stops prying and instead asks, “You want to do a girl’s night this week?”
Caught off guard, I stammer, “Um…”
“C’mon, Betts,” she urges. “You need to get out and have some fun.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do need to have some fun. Some non-macguffin-related fun. “Okay, sure.” After all, I still need my friends. There’s a life waiting for me on the other side of Leo Hawthorn, regardless of how he may or may not feel.
Or how I feel.
Liv’s whoop has me smiling as I move on with my rag to the bookshelf. My faerie wings still sit on top, limp and dull. When I give them a gentle shake, Leo’s words from the Halloween party seem to escape with the dust motes into the air:
You’re the prettiest faerie I’ve ever seen.
Oh right. Yes. Because you’ve seen so many faeries?
More than you can count.
I sigh. “I still need to get the wire for these.” I set them back on the now clean shelf, both happy and sad that I’m no longer that trusting girl who wore them.
“Oh, yeah.” Liv brightens. “Let’s go to McDougall’s tomorrow. And we can study for a while at Mountain Brew, too.”
How delightfully normal. “Yeah, let’s.”