Chapter 4 Lois
I don’t need to open my eyes to know where I am. That’s progress from yesterday, I guess, but I still feel a crushing shame pinning me down to the couch. The couch I’ve taken over again, like some kind of parasite. A damn cockroach, that’s what I’ve been reduced to.
I jump to my feet, plumping the pillows to erase any sign that I was here, and tiptoe over to the kitchen sink. I don’t want to wake him up… the guy who lives here. The guy whose name I don’t even know.
Today is the day I solve my housing problem. The motel is my plan B, and sure, just the thought of it sends my anxiety through the roof, but at least it’s something.
I splash a little water on my face and eye the coffee maker, but I don’t want to run into that Campus Driver and have him think I’m making myself at home.
It takes me less than a minute to change into a fresh T-shirt and scrape my hair up into a ponytail.
Seeing my bag, I remember my most pressing issue: The rest of my stuff is in his trunk.
I don’t have a choice, I’ll need to see him again at least once so I can collect my things.
This bag here is small and light, so I swing it over my shoulder and creep my way to the front door, pulling it shut softly behind me.
I take a deep breath in. The elevator has probably been fixed, but I go for the stairs.
You never know: I might run into Kirk in the hallway, and that way I can beg him to reconsider—who cares if I look like a desperate loser.
In the end, I make it out to the sidewalk without a glimpse of him. Luck is definitely not on my side: I bump into Ms. Curtis instead, sweeping the first floor, ranting and raving with every fresh inch of tile exposed.
I head over to the bus stop at the corner of the street, and although the public transportation here is terrible, I manage to catch the one bus of the morning.
“Maybe I’m not so unlucky after all,” I mutter to myself as I fall back into one of the frayed blue seats.
Talk about tempting fate. The bus breaks down just one measly mile before campus. I follow the annoyed passengers filing out, offering the driver a small “sorry,” as if my bad luck was all to blame.
When I finally make it to campus, the strap of my bag is digging into my shoulder and I’m tilting to one side. Yup, this is me: homeless, soaked through with sweat, and halfway to becoming a hunchback. What a catch.
If yesterday was shitty, today looks set to be just as bad.
Once orientation wraps up and the department rattles off our lab group assignments, I wander down the college hallways, searching the crowds for Kirk, my heart skipping a beat every time I see a flash of blond hair.
I don’t know whether he’s avoiding me or whether I’m just the worst sleuth ever, but I haven’t seen him once, even when I walked around the dentistry department, doing my best to look casual.
I’m still holding out for a glimpse of him this morning, but right now, I’m stepping into the secretary’s office for the second time and joining the line. When it’s finally my turn, my throat is dry, the skin around my nails is bleeding.
“Morning!”
I look up at the administrator and force myself to smile back. I hate everybody this morning, especially people who look happy. The woman from yesterday looked half asleep and sniffled just as much as me, and I find myself missing her. But if I want a room, I’m going to have to make an effort.
“Good morning, Mrs….” I check the little name card pinned to the counter. “Singleton.”
I mop my forehead with the back of my hand and drop my bag at my feet.
“I need a dorm room,” I offer in response to her inquisitive stare.
She raises her powdered eyebrows. “Last name, first name, major, and year.”
“Lois Hogan, sports physiotherapy, freshman.”
I wince at the words, but the administrator is peering at her screen and doesn’t notice.
My family members are all sports buffs, and although I love sports just as much, deep down I know I chose this major because of Kirk.
He’s just joined the college basketball team, and the sports PT students get up close and personal with the athletes.
The Cardinals are heroes around these parts, and everyone is expected to wait on them hand and foot.
Singleton pouts. “It says here that you came by yesterday. It’s just as my colleague told you: We’ve been full since March, I’ve got a waiting list as long as my arm, and some students haven’t even arrived yet. We’ve already got you down right here. You’re twenty-seventh on the list.”
She gives me a bored smile, and I screw my eyes shut so as not to break down in front of her.
“There’s really no point in coming in every morning, Ms. Hogan. If a room becomes available, we’ll be sure to let you know.”
I gnaw at the inside of my cheek. “What are my chances?”
“Rooms mostly free up in the second semester. Between now and Christmas, I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
“Oh God…” I drum my fingers on the counter. “Do you know what I can try next? Have you got a list of agencies?”
She shakes her head and glances over my shoulder. I get the message. People are waiting.
She rolls her chair back. “Go and speak to the student council, they might have some ideas.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you.”
I scoop up my bag and fling it over my shoulder too quickly: a guy is standing super close behind me.
“Oh, I’m sorry!”
“No worries.”
I squeeze out of the crowded office and make for the coffee cart. My brain freezes when it’s time to order: mint tea or double espresso? Kirk hates coffee, and I realize I haven’t had a cup since I left Florida.
The girl behind me is losing patience. “Pick something already.”
I go for a triple-shot espresso with no sugar, knocking it back in one go and setting off on a mission to sniff out a miracle.
The student council office is just as short on ideas for me, and three hours of investigating and one skipped lunch later, I drag myself out to the central plaza.
The place is still heaving, and I scan the crowds.
My breath catches in my throat as I finally take in the object of my obsessions, but a distant shout ruins everything.
“Hey! Heartbreak!”
Kirk is sitting there surrounded by a few guys. And girls. I can’t tear my eyes away. Too many girls. Too close. Too…
“Heaaartbreaaak!”
Oh my God, can’t he just shut up?
Just as Kirk turns to look at me, I home in on the person doing the shouting.
The dumbass is stretched out on the grass beneath a towering statue, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead already.
I stride toward him, mouthing “Shut up” as I go, and he frowns.
He mutters something to the guys he’s with, and they all burst out laughing.
For fuck’s sake. He just screwed up my one and only chance.
I hate this guy!
I lunge at him, all my pent-up anger propelling me forward, and he crosses his arms over his chest as if bracing himself for the impact when an obstacle appears before me.
“Hey again!”
I bang into a mass so hard my bag goes flying, my forehead connecting with a fleshy heftiness. I step back, taking in the body standing between me and the jerk.
“We met earlier,” says the guy who almost literally threw himself at me.
Narrowing my eyes, I try to think, but my brain is splitting in two, half of it focused on Kirk, the other half taken up with… the other guy.
“You bumped into me with your bag,” he prompts, seeing my clueless expression.
“Oh! Yeah! Right.”
That’s all I’ve got, but he seems happy enough. A broad smile spreads over his spotty face.
He puffs out his chest. “I’m Donald, but everyone calls me Donny!”
“I’m Lois, but everyone calls me Lois.”
He forces out a laugh and stuffs his hands into his pockets. Or tries to, at least: His jeans are clinging to his thighs.
“Freshman?”
This guy wants to make small talk. All I want is to make a getaway.
“Yeah.”
“I’m a sophomore. You like this place?”
“Yeah.”
Despite my curt replies, he’s not taking the hint.
He drops his voice. “I heard you’re stuck for a place to stay.”
Now he’s got my attention, and he likes that. As he raises his eyebrows, they brush against a strand of hair that’s either very wet or very greasy. I don’t even want to know.
“My roomie just left me hanging, so I’ve got a room available,” he continues. “It’s just around the corner; the rent is peanuts. I was going to put an ad on the board, but I thought you might be interested.” He clears his throat. “You seem cool. Solid.”
He blurts the words out, his face suddenly flushed and clammy. My gut is telling me to say “Thanks but no thanks,” but this unexpected offer is one I should weigh up.
I’m about to ask for more details when I notice movement behind him.
The Campus Driver jerk is walking over to us, his acolytes trailing behind him, and I raise an eyebrow.
Donald turns to follow my gaze, and I swear I see him stiffen.
He mutters something I can’t make out, thrusts a piece of paper into my hand, and evaporates. The page is folded in fours.
I blink a few times. I’m surrounded by four guys, all a foot taller than me.
“How you doing, Heartbreak?”
The nickname snaps me out of my lethargy, at least.
“Stop calling me that!” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I swear, you call me that one more time and I’ll punch your balls right off.”
As soon as the words come tumbling out, I slam my mouth shut, shocked by my own behavior. I’m a pretty chill person. I can’t remember the last time I lost my shit like this, except with my brothers, and that barely counts.
He gapes at me, stunned. And then he and his buddies burst out laughing.
“Wow! Turns out she does more than just sleep and cry,” he teases, raking a hand through his hair.
I feel like telling him he has no idea, but first I glance over to where I saw Kirk earlier. I catch him looking at me. Shit.
“In my defense, Your Honor, you still haven’t told me your name.”
I smirk at him. “Life’s a bitch, huh?”