Chapter 6 Lois
Today’s Friday. While most students are cheering for the weekend, I’ve officially hit rock bottom.
It’s been almost a week since Kirk broke up with me, and exactly six days since he ghosted me.
This morning, I sent him my twenty-third text—yes, I counted—left unanswered.
I mean, that’s not strictly true. He did respond to the first one.
KIRK: Please give me some space
Along with the messages, I tried calling eleven times, with just as many knocks on his door. He might want space, but I’ve got too much of it. I hate what I’m becoming, but my pride is in the exact same state as my heart: broken. That’s why Lane’s nickname hit so hard.
Lane. Jesus, I can’t believe I’ve been on this guy’s couch since Sunday.
I could never have imagined I’d be in this situation.
I don’t have many friends back in Florida—Kirk’s friends were the only ones I had.
So sharing some small corner of an apartment with a student I just met is pure craziness.
Plus, he’s a guy. As a girl with four younger brothers, you’d think I’d be used to sharing my space with the opposite sex.
Growing up, let’s just say I never had a moment’s peace—but this?
It’s a different beast entirely. Still, when Lane gave in and offered to let me stay, it didn’t take me long to figure out I needed to say yes—because Kirk lives three floors below him.
That alone sealed the deal. Now that I’m temporarily not homeless, I can focus on what really matters: cornering Kirk on his way out of the building and winning him back.
I mean, it’s not like four years of feelings just disappear in a week, right?
The only reason I managed to peel myself off the couch this morning (besides the fact that Lane was hanging around) was the feeling that I’d definitely bump into Kirk here in the lecture hall, where I’ve been waiting for ten minutes now, along with every other freshman.
I don’t give a damn about the orientation meeting itself: an afternoon-long welcome session where some of SHU’s student clubs get the chance to harvest as many new sign-ups as they can. Count me out.
“Lois!”
I jump, sending my notebook fluttering to the ground. I kneel and start scooping up the pages before someone can spot that I’ve doodled “Kirk” everywhere.
“Becca! Hey!”
She draws me in for a quick hug. “What’s new?” She juts out her hip, slouching against the wall in the kind of super feminine pose I could never master.
“Hm. Not much! You?”
I gnaw the inside of my cheek. I can’t stand the way I can barely string a sentence together.
“My summer was insane.” She grins, smoothing her blond ponytail back into place.
“So makeup classes weren’t all that bad, after all…” I smile.
“It was amazing.” She sighs, her eyes twinkling. “I mean I totally screwed up again, and now I’m retaking some freshman year classes, but you should’ve seen our English professor… Let’s just say he seriously made up for my dad’s meltdown. You should’ve seen his hips!”
“His hips? That’s what you look for in a guy?”
“He wasn’t a guy, Lois. He was a man! And yeah, a nice pair of hips slapping against my ass… Nothing better.”
I can feel myself starting to blush.
“How about you? All good with Kirk?”
My heart is racing.
“Yeah.” I squeeze out a smile.
“Is he here with you?”
“Yeah. I mean—no! I mean, he’s on his way,” I mumble.
Luckily, she doesn’t seem to pick up on what a mess I am right now, or maybe she just doesn’t give a shit. Either works for me.
Luckily, the doors finally creak open, and we pour into the lecture hall.
By the time I grab my bag and turn back to the pressing crowd, I’ve lost sight of Becca.
I slip into a seat at the top near the entrance and pretend to look for something on my phone, perfectly positioned to spot Kirk as soon as he arrives.
“What are you doing? Let’s go!” Becca grabs my arm, and before I have a chance to shake her off, she’s dragging me away. “The front is filling up already.”
She skips down the stairs to the third row, elbowing past a gaggle of girls.
“Do we really have to sit this low down?” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder.
“Yeah, we really do.” She yanks at my T-shirt. “Sit!”
I groan, casting looks around me as I fold down the wooden seat.
“Your guy will be fine.” Becca elbows me in the ribs. “I promise you’ll thank me for the front-row tickets, it’s gonna be one hell of a show!”
“What show?”
There’s a twinkle in her eye as she raises her eyebrows, and I frown.
I have no idea how a couple of campus clubs can get her all riled up like this.
I scour the room again, and just when I’d given up hope, my eyes land on him, and it’s like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
I watch as Kirk strolls down the steps, exchanging smiles with the guy he’s with, falling back into a seat in the middle of the crowd, dropping his bag on the table in front of him, chatting with his neighbor and the girl sitting behind him.
My heart tightens in my chest. I was hoping he’d look a little more heartbroken.
A little less… normal. A microphone buzzes on behind me, somebody sound-checking it with a few taps.
Kirk turns to look at the stage, and our eyes meet.
I draw in a sharp breath, and the pain is worse than death.
He assesses me for a moment. Behind his eyes, I see nothing.
Blank. Unsmiling. The microphone crackles once more, and, just like that, Kirk turns away.
“Ladies and gentlemen, congratulations.” A sunny, upbeat voice. “You just survived your first week of college.”
As laughter breaks out, I turn back to face the stage, suddenly overcome by the urge to shout at the speaker to shut up.
My mood swings are bubbling up to the surface again, and this time, Lane isn’t to blame.
I keep flip-flopping between tearful meltdowns and bursts of anger, and I’ve been taking it all out on my infuriating roomie.
Just another side of myself I’m slowly discovering the hard way. God, I hate myself.
“They always start with the finance club!” Becca crosses her arms over the desk. “Like seriously, who does that in their free time?”
The first hour crawls by, and though I haven’t said a word, nothing can get in the way of Becca’s running commentary.
“Knitting now? What a rush,” she sighs, shaking her head.
“It’s supposed to be relaxing,” I say flatly.
Maybe I should sign up. I could knit myself a nice rope to hang myself with.
“Watch out, the ventriloquist club is up next. Nothing says well-adjusted like talking through a dead-eyed puppet.”
“I guess you must know all the groups from last year, right?”
“Yeah, and I’m telling you: Some of them are insane.”
“So why even come this time?”
“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” she whispers, plucking a pocket mirror out of her bag, checking her makeup, teeth, and breath, before tucking it back in place.
“Meaning?”
“You’ll see, Lois.”
She’s drumming her nails against the worn wooden desk, waiting with mounting impatience.
As the groups segue by, I realize people around us are starting to whisper. And the murmurs are getting louder.
“Why do all the girls look like they’re about to pass out?” I ask, as a leggy redhead in front of me starts fanning herself so hard she almost hits me in the face.
“You’ll see. Once this guy stops boring us with his unsolved-murders spiel!”
As the student packs away his slides and slinks offstage, the mutterings ramp up a notch, a series of yelps and screeches rippling through the crowd. What the hell is going on?
“Becca—”
“Shhh! Here they come!”
The two front rows turn to gaze up at the back of the lecture hall, and slowly but surely, the entire crowd follows suit.
I haven’t dared turn back to look Kirk’s way since earlier.
Now’s my chance. I swivel in my seat. He’s looking down at his bag while his neighbor whispers in his ear, shaking his head, gazing up at the ceiling, and just as I think he’s about to glance over at me, the room breaks into applause.
Girls scramble to their feet, blocking my view of the entrance.
“Who even are these guys?” the guy next to me sneers.
Becca babbles something at me, but she’s so excited, I can’t make out a word. I’m just about to get to my feet, when I finally get it. The chanting. I can suddenly make out what it is.
“Campus Drivers! Campus Drivers!”
No… Oh no, no, no. Please, anything but this.
As I spot Lewis walking by, I sink deeper into my seat, watching him hop from step to step, high-fiving his way down to the stage.
This is insanity. Once he gets to our row, I shrink back to hide behind Becca.
Donovan has followed in his wake, Adam right behind him.
None of them have spotted me, and I feel myself relax a little.
Now it’s Lane’s turn to set the lecture hall on fire as he trots down, and I catch myself hoping he’ll twist an ankle and bring this shit show to an end.
“Leaving the best ones for last!” a girl behind me yells.
Up onstage, Lewis points and smiles at her. Just as she starts swooning, I quickly take down my bun and scoop my hair in front of my face. I don’t know these guys that well, but I’ve got a feeling that if they spot me, they’ll pounce.
“Hey, everybody!” Donovan starts.
The guy next to me has a face like thunder. “Dick.”
“Shut up, Tony,” snaps Becca, tossing a paper ball in his face.
I listen intently as they take turns bringing us up to speed, explaining how they help students get around campus and downtown.
When Lane starts talking us through the app, I realize he actually seems pretty friendly—just not with me, apparently.
He’s generous in the way he answers questions, nodding his head, smiling as he explains timings and slots, and I have to admit: He’s persuasive.
If he didn’t make me want to rip my hair out, I could see myself getting on board.