Lily
“Chug, chug, chug, chug!” I demand out loud, clapping as Jack struggles to down his beer.
One month into my first year at Rothford, and I love it here, and not only because I can still wear skirts and shorts in October, while it might already be snowing back home.
The simple truth is, there are far more people like me here than there were in my small town in Michigan. Unapologetic nerds. Jack is one of them, as is Olivia, the brunette dressed in black by my side.
Jack’s studying computer science and Liv, economics, so we have a few classes together, as I’m aiming for a marketing BA, and we instinctively gravitated towards each other, all three of us being scholarship kids considered geeky by the cool crowd.
Not that I mind. I am the definition of a geek.
Beer foams out of poor Jack’s nose and I grimace. “Ew. Please never try to chug anything ever again.”
Liv chuckles. “That was your idea.”
I dragged them here, armed with our fake IDs.
“Because neither of you will survive this trip unless you’re plastered through it.”
After lunch, I drag them to the convention centre. I figured a bit of liquid courage wouldn’t go amiss. My friends are both too straitlaced to feel entirely comfortable in my little world.
I guessed they’d enjoy it if they chilled a bit at lunch time as both are fond of fantasy and sci-fi. I was right.
They’re delighted to stop by every artist’s station.
Jack spends a fortune on a Star Wars sculpture and Olivia has at least ten art prints she insisted she needed to decorate her dorm room.
Jack can’t stop staring at a Wonder Woman’s tight red pants in her OG costume and Liv squeals every time a fur-covered, blue from head-to-toe Beast winks at her.
By the time we’re driving back, the second-place cosplay trophy in my trunk, neither of them can shut up about our afternoon in LA, promising to tag along next time. Olivia even ventures to ask about procuring some costumes.
“I make mine, but plenty of people buy or commission theirs,” I assure her. Glancing at her, I add, somewhat reluctantly, “You’re about my size. I could lend you some of my old stuff.”
And I mean old. I’m rather possessive and protective over my cosplays, but even I can admit that I have too many, some I don’t really plan on wearing again.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She flushes as she stares at me. “I’m not that comfortable in my body.”
I smile. Frankly, my own fashion sense tends to be conservative.
I like blouses, cardigans and round-toed ballerina shoes.
Most of my skirts are knee-length. But all modesty goes out the window when it comes to cosplay.
Today, I’m the Scarlet Witch, in all her red corseted glory.
I’d like to say it’s on the classy side of slutty, but it’s definitely not something Olivia would wear.
She prefers to stick to loose sweatshirts and pants two sizes too big for her.
“Not all my cosplays are revealing. Take Arwen—” I start, immediately regretting it.
I’m not lending my Arwen cosplay. Hand-stitching the crystals on the collar took me forever. Not to mention the headdress.
“She’s dressed from head to toe,” I conclude.
“You have an Arwen cosplay? I love the Lord of the Rings!”
Ugh. Maybe I can part with her riding habit from the first movie. And if she gives it back to me in one piece, I’ll consider lending her more.
I roll Bertha, my ugly but trusty blue Nissan Cube, in front of the dorm to let my friends out, before making my way to the parking lot.
It makes sense to let them out first as they’re both worse for the wear after the lunchtime binge, not to mention some day-drinking during the convention itself.
As the designated driver, I stayed sober.
But as I enter the dark parking lot alone, I wonder if I made the right move.
Thorn Falls, and the Rothford campus in particular, are hardly dangerous, but I still don’t like walking alone this late at night when I can help it. A shiver runs through my spine as I grab my bag from the boots.
“Hello.”
It’s no surprise I yelp and jump at the sound, already spooked before I hear it.
Recognizing the man smirking down at me, amber eyes glowing in the dim lamp lights, I grumble, “What the fuck? Don’t creep up on a girl at night.”
His grin broadens. “Scared, darling?”
I straighten up, hating the way I shiver at the low drawl.
“Of course not,” I lie.
I was scared before recognizing him. Now, I’m a little uneasy, as anyone would be with a stranger in the dark. He’s a stranger, and it’s Sunday night. The campus is almost empty. I’d have to be completely dumb to not be somewhat anxious.
He stares like he knows I’m dishonest, or at the very least, not telling the whole truth.
“You’re Cross, right?” I say. “You’re in my econ class.”
I don’t mention how he helped me the day I arrived on campus, though I certainly haven’t forgotten. We haven’t talked at all since.
Cross hangs out with what I learned they call the legacies; the kids of the well-to-do in town, who were all Rothford alumni. They don’t tend to mix with us scholarship ruffians.
“And marketing, I think,” he adds with a shrug. “Though no wonder you haven’t noticed me. I don’t sit at the front like a teacher’s pet.”
I point to the oversized rectangular glasses on my nose. “I don’t wear those for show. Sitting close helps.”
He frowns, head titled, curious, clearly trying to work me out. “Aren’t the glasses supposed to help?”
It’s surreal, me arguing in the parking lot about glasses and seating arrangement with a legacy. I start to walk towards the dorm. Cross follows.
“I mean, they do. I can read the board and everything—but it gets a bit blurry when I’m far.
I probably should get my eyes retested, it’s been a couple of years.
But they’ll tell me I need fancy lenses with two settings, which are far too expensive.
I always end up just getting the far sight vision fixed as it’s my biggest problem.
” I’m rambling, so I make myself shut up. He doesn’t care about my lenses.
“I see.”
“So, what are you doing out so late?”
He vaguely gestures to the domed glass building behind us. “I was iceskating. Lost track of time until they kicked me out to rink.”
My jaw falls. “There’s an ice rink on campus?”
“Sure.”
The Rothford campus is so big, I discover something on an almost daily basis, although I’ve been here for a month.
As I’m studying for a marketing BA, most of my classes are at Silver Hall. I haven’t had many reasons to visit the Dome, the modern building with science labs and modern amenities. I knew they had a gym, a basketball court, a pool, but I didn’t realize there’s a rink, too.
“I’ll have to get my mom to send me my stakes,” I say, relieved I’m not going to need to take up running or cycling to make up for all the croissants I eat the excellent café.
Figure skating has always been my favorite kind of workout. My ex used to joke that surely, I must prefer sex, but in all honesty, sex with him was a distinct fourth place, after Zumba with my mom and running for the bus.
“You skate, huh?” Cross asks, with a secretive grin I can’t interpret.
I shrug. “Yeah, I mean I grew up in a village known for nothing except winter sports. People either ski or skate—not much else to do for half the year.”
“You must be good,” he states, no question in his tone.
“I’ve done it most of my life, but I don’t compete. The coaches, the outfits—that would have been far too expensive for my parents, so it’s more exercise than an art for me.”
He whistles. “I can hear the confidence, Lily Trueman. That tells me you’re very good.”
I blush a little, not sure how to tell him to lower his expectations.
“I guess I’ll see you on the ice, then.”
To my surprise, we’re right in front of the dorms. He’s walked me all the way from the car park, although he’ll have to circle the dorm in order to reach his private drive.
I might not know much about Cross, but I know he’s a shark—belonging to one of the frats on campus that they’re not calling frats because Rothford University is too posh to do anything like everyone else. He lives in one of the private houses.
Did he…walk me home? The entrance to their drive isn’t anywhere close to the dorms, yet here we are.
That was sweet and unexpected from a guy like him, but there’s no denying that if he’d just meant to head to the shark house, there would have been a more direct path.
I stand there dumbly for several seconds before clearing my throat. “Right. Thanks, Cross.”
He tilts his head. “Whatever for?”
If he wants to play it like escorting a damsel in the dark is nothing, I decide to let him. “The company. Maybe you’re not so bad, for a shark.”
“Maybe you’re not so boring, for a nerd.” He winks before turning on his heels and disappearing at the corner.
It's not until much later that I realize: though we only spoke twice in total, he remembers my full name.
I smile to myself as I fall asleep.