Chapter Nine

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"Do you think I should wear this?" Jaimie asks, holding a sparkly, purple top to her chest. She turns from the mirror hanging up in the closet door and looks at me expectantly. I assess her wary expression — skillfully drawn eyebrows curve down in a frown, glossed lips pulled to the side and left leg slightly bent. The answer is no. I can tell by the tell-tale signs of her body. She spends more time in this dorm than her own, I'm beginning to question if she even attends the University. But then again she is in my English Literature class.


"No. Why don't you try the all lacy black shirt? I'm sure it'll match your girlfriend's soul," I joke, and she laughs. Julia on the other hand doesn't find it funny and throws a pen cap at me. I laugh and pick it up and toss it back at her. She cracks the tiniest bit of a smile.

Over the past week, which is two days from ending marking my first week of College, I've settled a bit more and even cracked a single hair of a fracture in Julia's rock-hard exterior. Imagine when I'm six months in; I'm sure we'll be good friends by then. If not, she'll at least stop glaring at me like I just told her she's so supposed to be peppy. I picture a preppy cheerleader trying to convince her to the join the team, and laugh.

"What's gotten into you?" Julia asks, glancing over her phone to suspiciously look me up and down.

"Nothing." I shrug my shoulders and glance over at her with a smile smile. "Just — have you ever thought about cheerleading? I think you'd be a great fit with your bright personality and all."

"Have you ever thought of my fist down your throat?" she smiles sarcastically at me, and I shake my head and look back at the History textbook on my thighs. "But for real, why are you happy?"

"Is it a crime to be happy?" I crease my forehead as I tug my lips in a small frown. I was only kidding about her dark soul, but I'm starting to believe I was right. She doesn't actually scream joy when she glares at you; trust me, I know.

"Maybe she found a boy toy to screw the prude —" Jaimie laughs, takes a glance at my raised brow, then waves a hand at me. "Maybe she just found a boy she likes, one that'll... distract her." Well, that's completely better than her saying what she was originally going to say. Not. But I don't comment on that. I let out a winded sigh and lean against the wall behind me and shrug.

"I haven't found anybody. But this week went perfectly."

"How so?" Jaimie asks, mouth hung ajar as she rolls black liner across her lids in the mirror.

"All of my professors seem to like me," I tell her. I know I sound sure of myself, but I really do feel that way. All except my Psychology professor. She seems hesitant toward me, and I don't know why. I raised my hands for all of her questions and showed her how much I knew, which is a lot. What could her dislike toward me be based on? "And the work so far is appeasing."

They roll their eyes, and Jaimie turns toward me, gesturing to the black top she put on. "What do you think?" I think it hugs exceptionally well to her large chest and displays a great amount of cleavage. "And what about my ass?" she pivots in her open-toe boots and puckers out her butt.

"It looks very... revealing?" I say, unsure. Was that her goal? Certainly not; Julia —- her girlfriend — is two feet away from her. Why would she dress risqué on purpose if they're going out in public?

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