Roomies
Lavender
Present day
“WHAT DO YOU mean you’re moving out?” River follows me down the stairs, nearly stepping on my heels.
I brought Lovey and Lacey with me as reinforcements. I figure I can toss the basics into my suitcase and a couple of tote bins and manage the rest later.
My sewing supplies are going to be an issue. I may have to concede to working on projects here, because they’re not quite so easy to transport. But again, I can assess once I’m in my room and have an idea of the space.
“I put myself on the list and a room became available. I decided to take it.”
At the bottom of the stairs, he tries to worm his way around me, but I get to the front door first. Lovey and Lacey are behind him with two more boxes. Getting the door open is a problem, though, because I don’t have a free hand, and River is crowding me.
I give him a look. “Seriously, River?”
“Why do you want to live in the dorms? You’re going to hate it. Girls are catty. You won’t know people. What happens if-if-if . . . you have a huge anxiety attack?”
I’m holding a box full of toiletries and crap. It’s heavy. It’s not like I didn’t expect this, but my arms are starting to protest. “Then I’ll manage like I have for the past seven years.”
“But, but . . .” He flails and flounders. “Is it because of whatever happened last night? Or because I got into it with Kody?”
“That you actually need to ask that question is pretty much the reason I’m moving out. Now back up so I can open the door.” I push against his stomach with my box.
The door opens, hitting me in the back and causing me to stumble forward. And of course, because nothing can be easy, Kodiak tries to push his way into the front hall, which was already crowded with me and River and the seven million stinky pairs of shoes on the floor. These guys and their shoes.
“What’s going on?” His T-shirt is wet with perspiration. His hair is drenched, and beads of sweat trickle down his temples. He’s clearly been for a run. He should look disgusting, but he doesn’t.
“Lavender’s moving out,” River spits. “And it’s your fucking fault.”
“I can’t deal with this.” I use their momentary distraction to slip past Kodiak. Lacey and Lovey dance their way around him too.
“How is that my fault? I’m only here for a few weeks, and then I’ll be back in my own place,” Kodiak scoffs, but he sounds unnerved.
I drop the box in the trunk and turn to face them. River and Kodiak are standing with their arms crossed, barricading the door. I’ll come back for the rest of the things I need tomorrow, when they aren’t home.
I pin them with a glare. “I need a damn break from the blame game and all the bullshit.” Lovey and Lacey drop their boxes in the trunk, and I slam it shut.
“What about your sewing machine?” River’s eyes are wide with panic. “And what about Mom and Dad? Do they know? There’s no way Mom is gonna be cool with this.”
“I already talked to Mom. She fully supports my decision. As for my sewing machine, I’ll deal with it later. Let’s go, girls.”
We get into the car, and I lock the doors because River is on his way down the steps. He tries to open the driver’s side door as I put the car in reverse. He knocks on the window. “Come on, Lav! You can’t seriously be moving out!”
I ignore him since there is no other option, and I’m not stopping to discuss this. I’m not giving him the chance to try to convince me to stay. He chases me halfway down the street before he finally gives up.
I’m gripping the steering wheel so hard, the vinyl creaks, and my knuckles are white. It’s really to prevent my hands from shaking. I’m aware that this is probably going to make things worse with River and Kodiak, but I can’t deal anymore. Pandering to River isn’t helping either of us.
“Are you okay?” Lovey asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“That was seriously badass,” Lacey says from the back seat.
“Thanks.” I blow out a long breath, trying to find some calm. My cells feel like they’re vibrating on a high frequency.
“Kodiak looked like he was going to shit a brick,” Lovey says.
“Good for him.” I didn’t tell either of them what happened last night.
Or about the conversation I had with my mom before I met up with them, or what River admitted to me about blocking Kodiak’s number.
I still don’t know exactly what to think about all of that, other than it shifts my perspective on everything.
Kodiak can be very rigid. He’s always been that way, unless it’s me. I’d been the exception to his rule.
He had a hierarchy, and hockey had always been at the top of that list, followed by his mom, schoolwork, me, and then Maverick—until everything fell apart.
And as the pieces of this puzzle fall into place, his behavior begins to make a lot more sense.
But it sure doesn’t excuse him for acting like a complete asshole the past two years.
We arrive at Hartford House, a seven-story building of apartment-style dorms. I pull into an empty space in the short-term parking, and we each grab a box.
A guy who is most definitely a student sits behind the desk.
Based on the way his head is bowed, he’s messing around with his phone.
It takes so long for him to lift his head that Lovey clears her throat.
When he finally looks up, his sour expression turns into wide-eyed surprise.
His gaze bounces from Lovey to Lacey and then to me.
He fumbles with his phone and drops it on the desk, faceup.
He’s watching some kind of drunk-fail video.
Classy. He quickly flips it over and adopts a casual pose.
He’s wearing a school branded T-shirt. “Hey. Hi. Hello. I’m Mitchell.
” He taps his name badge. “How can I help you?”
It takes me about three seconds to find my voice, which doesn’t sound long, but when someone is waiting for an answer it seems like an eternity. “I-I—”
“There’s a room available here for Lavender Waters. The housing department said she could move in today,” Lovey rushes to fill the silence.
I half appreciate it and half hate it. If she’d given me another second, I would’ve been able to get the words out.
“Oh wow, that’s great.” He nods a bunch of times, like Lovey has just told him he’s won an award of excellence.
I raise my hand. “I’m Lavender.”
“Right. Cool name. Let me check on that.” He flashes a wide grin and shifts so he’s facing the computer.
After tapping a few buttons, his grin drops and his expression turns into more of a grimace.
“Uh, okay. I found it. You’re in a double.
” He smiles stiffly. “Your roommate is Beth Gull. She’s a sophomore. ”
“Okay. Great. Thanks.”
He makes a brief phone call and sets me up with my keys. Two minutes later, a girl named Sydney introduces herself as the RA on my floor and gives me a quick rundown of all the rules. I introduce her to Lovey and Lacey and tell her they’re helping me move my stuff in.
“You have to register guests with the front desk. Sometimes people try to sneak them in.” Her expression turns disapproving. “But you can get written up for that.”
I exchange a look with Lovey and Lacey. “Okay, register guests.” Geez, this sounds a lot like a less-fun version of summer camp.
Not that I’ve ever been to summer camp, but my brothers used to go.
River loved it until he got into a huge fight with another kid and got sent home for breaking his nose. At least that was the story we got.
The hallways are bland, the doors the same, although some of them are decorated with nameplates, and a few have those whiteboard things fixed to them where people can leave messages.
When we get to room 414, Sydney mutters something under her breath and swipes her hand across the whiteboard, erasing whatever was written there.
She knocks and waits a good fifteen seconds before she tries again. More muttering follows and Lovey elbows me, giving me her wide, what-the-hell eyes. I shrug. I don’t know if this RA is a weirdo, or we interrupted her Vampire Diaries marathon or what, but she’s definitely in a mood.
She opens the door and peeks inside, shoulders sagging as she blows out what seems like a relieved breath.
“Beth must be out.” She motions to the space in front of us.
“This is your common room. You have a TV, a couch, chair, coffee table, bar fridge, microwave, and coffee maker. You’re not allowed to have a hotplate because it’s against code. Also, no smoking.”
“No smoking and no hotplate, got it,” I echo.
The common space is a sty. There are empty food boxes littering pretty much every surface, and used tissues all over the floor. I also think there might be a few condom wrappers under the coffee table, but I’m afraid to look too closely.
“And we routinely do room checks for alcohol. You can get kicked out for that too,” Sydney says.
“Right. No booze.” I nod my agreement. We’re all still holding our boxes, and there’s no spot to put them down.
“That’s Beth’s room.” Sydney motions to the door with the KEEP OUT BITCHES sign stuck to it. “And that’s yours.”
“Cool.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Okay, well, I’m in room 420 if you need anything. Good luck.” And with that, she spins on her heel and busts it down the hall.
I awkwardly prop my box on my hip so I can unlock my room. The door swings open with a creak. I feel around for the light switch and flick it on. Then I drop my box on the desk with a groan. Lacey and Lovey do the same, and we stand there for a few long, quiet seconds, taking in my new bedroom.
“It’s . . .” Lovey doesn’t seem to be able to find words to finish that statement.
“It looks like a glorified prison cell,” Lacey says.
She’s not wrong. The walls are cinderblock, painted off-white. There’s a basic wardrobe, a dresser, and a single bed, plus a desk and a computer chair that looks far from ergonomic.
“It’s cozy.” My closet in Lake Geneva is probably the same size as this entire room.
“That’s one way to describe it,” Lacey mutters.