Pink Veil

c h a p t e r | f i v e

My plans for Saturday were sorted from Thursday. I would take a public bus from the nearest bus stop from campus, which was only a two-minute walk. The bus would take me to Michigan Avenue, where I have already searched for a few cafes which have a vacancy and will be willing to give me a job (hopefully!). My work will be done in three hours tops and then I would come back to the campus, get out of the clothes I would be wearing, put on one of the extra-large shirts I had in my wardrobe, slip into my soft comforter and watch a rerun of Friends.

Even though my parents were rich, and I had all the possible comforts I could dream of, they never really spoiled me. Whenever I went out with Mom or Aunt Heather, they used to make it a point to always take the subway. I never really went to school, so I did not need a car then. And here, since the University was well connected I decided not to buy a car, much to the disappointment of Aunt Heather.

My Saturday plans were disturbed when a certain someone with alluring black eyes decided to ask to accompany me today. And they were completely crushed when my muddled drunk brain decided to say yes to him for no reason. I mean I agree that having a car would make the trip faster. But the bus would have been fine too.

After saying yes to Foster I kept on wishing that he will forget to ask for my number, the only possible way left to save my Saturday plans. But my dreams were thwarted when he asked for it just before we entered the house, and my drunk ass decided to hand it to him willingly.

Which is why right now, I am sitting on my bed cross-legged, wearing a light blue spaghetti dress, staring at my phone, as if daring it to pop-up with a message or flash with an incoming call. It has not done the deed in the last fifteen minutes. And if this continues for half an hour more, I will be free to go, because it was already 10:10 A.M. and I planned on reaching Michigan Ave by 11:00 A.M. Perfect timing to tell him that I would have been late if I waited for some more time, without coming off as rude.

And just when my brain was completely satisfied with my master plan, the phone flashed with a call from an unknown number and I just barely saved it from hitting the floor, courtesy - my clumsiness.

I picked the call up and heard a little shuffling from the other end.

"Hey, Rachel,"

"Um, hey," I replied back, fumbling with my words a little.

"I will be near the campus in fifteen I think, which way is your dorm?" He asked confused as if he had just remembered to ask for that little detail.

"It's towards the south-end," I replied.

"Alright, see you then,"

"Yeah," I heard a click from the other end and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding till now and began wandering if Foster would be this nice to me if he knew who I really was.

I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that I really have changed in the past four years. And by that I don't just mean the looks, looks have largely been a contributing factor, but my demeanor, my way of living life, my way of handling situations has changed a hundred folds. And that's when I realize that I am a completely different person than I was before.

Shaking my head before any negative thoughts crept into my mind I stuffed my essentials into my small bag and put on my white converse. I wrote a note for Olivia for when she wakes up from her delirious sleep, telling her that I would be back by lunch.

I stepped out of the dorm building to see a Dodge Charger parked across the road with Foster leaning on it, looking at his phone. Of course, the Golden Boy drove a car worth more than the average salary of many young Americans.