Chapter 12 Donovan
I wake to the sound of distant voices and heels clacking against the floor, but it doesn’t make any sense—my room is soundproofed. I guess Lewis and Adam could’ve brought a couple of strippers home—it’s definitely something Lewis would do, anyway.
Sunlight is streaming in through the curtains, and as my vision adjusts to the morning light, it takes me a moment to remember that I’m not in my room. I didn’t sleep at my place. At all. I roll over onto my side, taking in the turquoise rug, and it all comes flooding back.
That rug.
It’s where Carrie and I slept together for the second time last night.
What shocks me most is how good it was. Like… insanely good.
We hadn’t planned on doing it twice, but I barely had time to toss away the first condom and grab a few M I picked up on it back when I saw them talking that day. I’m pretty sure they don’t plan on swapping library cards.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warns.
“Like what?”
She plucks my doughnut off the tray. “Like I’m gonna hook up with him. Although I could, if I wanted…” She takes a bite. “That was originally the plan. But I think I’m only going to wax his back this time.”
I had forgotten all about her side hustle.
“Anyway, why am I justifying myself? I don’t have to answer to you,” she adds.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the two-a-day thing, but somehow the idea of her sleeping with this John dude just hours after me makes my skin crawl.
“Have you guys ever dated?”
She shakes her head. “He’s a nice person, that’s all. He was actually my first, from back in high school. I was his first, too. We just wanted to get it over with,” she explains. “Since then, we’ve been doing it once in a while.”
“Talk about a plot twist,” I snicker. “I thought you’d be the type to ‘save yourself for your one true love.’ ”
She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. “How many of those sentences did you memorize?”
“Enough.”
She lets out a burst of laughter. I like how it sounds.
“Was your first in love with you?”
“Nope.”
“See?” Her eyes are shining. “We’re not all Disney princesses sitting around waiting for our Prince Charming, you know.” She thinks for a moment. “What was her name?”
“Ana Anderson. We were in high school in DC together. She studied here, too,” I add. “But she graduated two years ago.”
“Hold up.” Carrie’s eyes widen. “You lost your virginity to Ana Anderson? As in, Ana ‘Pre-Vet’ Anderson?”
“You know her?”
Carrie shakes her head. “I never met her—she graduated before I started. But everyone knows Ana A.!” She giggles. “She deflowered the whole basketball team!”
I pout. “She said I was definitely her favorite.”
“She lied, dude. I heard the same thing from a friend’s brother.”
I bring my hands to my cheeks. “My whole life has been a lie!”
She laughs. Again.
My dick must be magic, or something—I’m looking at a brand-new perky version of Carrie this morning.
“You’re great when you’re like this.” I smile.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it, okay?” She smiles back. “I need to go. Catch you later?”
And with that, she heads off before I even have the chance to say goodbye or ask what she means by “later.”
I SPEND A COUPLE OF hours down in the gym with Lewis, like I do every Friday.
While practice hasn’t officially started up yet, I’m sticking to my dad’s hard-core training schedule.
I could probably skip arms day—but though he’s not roaming around campus like his pre–heart attack days, I’m pretty sure this place is crawling with spies.
“Bro, throw some more weight on there?” I ask Lewis as he towels off his face.
He narrows his eyes. “Good to see you, Don. It’s been a while.”
“This year’s super important,” I shoot back. “I’m cramming in as much study as I can before the season kicks off.”
“Uh-huh. Haven’t seen you at too many study sessions, either.” He stares at me. “What’s the situation with Becca’s roomie?”
“Carrie?”
Whatever you do, don’t act sus.
“Yeah, you know—short, blond, cute? The one you brought over to the apartment.”
“We just hang out.” I shrug.
“That’s weird, because the Wolinski I know doesn’t just ‘hang out’ with girls.” Lewis frowns. “You like her, huh?”
“Pshh… No way. She’s just a friend.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “I guess she’s not your type, anyway.”
“Since when do I have a type?”
“You don’t. But you do have deal-breakers, and Carrie’s crawling with them.”
I push up on the bar. Lewis is starting to piss me off. What makes him think Carrie “isn’t my type”? I mean, it’s not like I give a fuck—it’s not like I had plans to date her, or anything. But still…