Premature Evacuation (Underground Sorority #1) (7 page)

The next morning, dark circles hung below my lower lids, and the whites of my eyes looked like they’d been scorched in the sun. I shoved my sketchpad into a messenger bag for class and started to drop my cell inside too, but I froze. I took a deep breath and dialed Corey’s number before I chickened out. The high pitched bleats of the ringing phone ignited heart palpitations. I sprung from my bed and paced the room. Then I heard a click. My body tensed like an animation buffering to play.

“Hello?” His groggy voice sounded like he had no trouble getting to sleep.

“Um, hey.” I cleared my throat. “It’s Mac.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” he groaned.

Sunlight streamed in through my window. My first class started in ten minutes and the dining hall had finished breakfast service a half hour ago. Footsteps and voices carried from the hallway. “I—” Another deep breath filled my lungs. “I was wondering if we could meet for coffee or something.” My hand paused as if even moving a single muscle could shatter the equilibrium of the universe.

“I hope you don’t mean right this second.” He added a laugh. All the tension drained from my body at the sound of it.

We made plans to meet when Corey officially woke up—at two. Getting through my animation class was torture. My mouse and I weren’t in sync. I keyframed in the wrong places, resulting in jerky stop motion animation for what was supposed to be an assignment to show a character walking with grace and personality. We all received the same gray bathroom-sign figure to work with. On my neighbor’s screen, she swayed her hips provocatively in a slow shuffle from left to right. Across the room, the character ran fast before skidding to a stop at the end of the frame. And in mine, the character’s legs bent at wrong angles and wobbled with imperfect movements. I eventually had to ask for an extension to finish the assignment later.

I arrived at Starbucks an hour early, my leg jangling under the table. I downed one vanilla latte that I’d meant to nurse until he got here. People kept lurking over me, blowing their bangs out in annoyance when I didn’t get up from my table. I set my sketchpad open and hovered my pen over a blank page, pretending I was working. Blank pages usually offered so many possibilities but today I couldn’t capture any of them.

He showed up fifteen minutes late, wearing a guilty smile, his dark hair obscured by a blue Throckmorton hat. He asked what I wanted so I got another latte even though I was already pretty wired. My leg rattled under the table.

He set the steaming cup in front of me. “Couldn’t stay away,” he said, shaking his head. “Even twenty-four hours. I’m that awesome, I know.”

A smile escaped onto my face. I had no idea how to do this. When Ryan and I had gotten together, it wasn’t a question, it was a period, punctuation so obvious it completed every sentence we ever said. We were together from the very first moment. That was that. I stared at the table and tried to get my mouth to form the words my heart was screaming.

“You’re upset.” His brow furrowed.

“No, I…” I looked up at him from under my lashes. “Yeah.”

Soft, acoustic music filtered from the speakers. The espresso machine steamed like a train and clanked as the barista prepared coffee.

He leaned in, resting his arms on the table. “Do you ever wonder if you made the right decisions, if you’re where you’re supposed to be?”

“What?” I tilt my head at his strange ploy to buoy my spirits. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know. Been doing a lot of thinking since last night.” He slipped the cardboard heat protector up and down his cup. “I guess I always thought I’d be doing something else when I came to Throckmorton.”

The obvious sexual innuendo popped into my mind: some
thing
else or some
one
else. I stifled the urge to voice it, in case it wasn’t sexual at all but real. As in, he’d spent all last night thinking about how his hesitation over Bianca cost him his chance. I had to steer him onto another topic. I cringed even as the words came out of my mouth. “Are you thinking of switching majors or something?” He was a marketing major but it was Fallon who was uncertain about her studies.

A group of straight-haired girls came in wearing lettered sweatshirts and waved to him. He didn’t even notice.

“No, it’s not that.” He picked up his coffee and took a long sip. “Sometimes I wonder if my path got skewed because I joined my fraternity.” Corey reached over and touched the back of my hand. His cologne, musky and strong, drowned out the heavy coffee scent permeating the air.

This.
This
. Him, opening up to me. His hand resting on mine in public. This was more than casual. This was us, connecting. For once we seemed to be on the same page, reading from the same book over each other’s shoulders.

“I feel the same way,” I said, nodding.

He pulled his fingers back from mine. “You do?”

I huddled into my drink, my shoulders rolling forward. How to explain? “I’m not the stereotypical art student on the outside. My classmates are…weird, creative. I look like a superficial sorority girl. The two extremes don’t mix. No one else in my major is in the Greek System. They look at me like I’m wasting time because I’m not sleeping and breathing graphics. Though I think they’re wasting their one chance for fun.”

“Yeah, see, you get it.” He downed another gulp of his coffee. He treated it like he was chugging a beer. “I wonder if I had pledged a different house, if I would be a different person. I’m more destructive now, more of an asshole. I wasn’t always like this; I used to be a sweetheart mama’s boy.” He laughed. “I was like the fucking guy every mother dreamed for her daughter.”

“Probably mothers would prefer less cursing,” I said, stifling a pang for my own mother. After a few years since her death, I could finally carry on a normal conversation without falling to pieces at the word. Then: “Are you upset you joined Beta Chi?”

“That’s the thing. Beta Chi made me who I am now. That other guy doesn’t exist anymore.”

Rho Sigma hadn’t effected me much…yet. A half smile broke onto my face. This conversation was more informative than any class I’d taken. Silence crept around us, our words dissolving into the din of other people’s conversations.

“What about you? What were you like in high school?” He relaxed, balancing his feet on the railings beneath the table, his chair teetering on two legs.

Lies bubbled on my lips. Ones that would impress him: Head cheerleader. Valedictorian. Biggest Flirt superlative. Top of every guy’s Most Wanted list. But he was opening up to me. I owed him the same courtesy.

“I was a little more reserved I guess. Things were different in high school. I didn’t have a tight group of friends like I do now. I pretty much only hung out with my ex-boyfriend, and—”

“Ex-boyfriend?” He set his empty cup on the table.

I blinked at him. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say. So I went with the boring facts. “We broke up this summer after being together for over three years.”

“Ah.” He nodded as if what I said made all the gears click in place in his brain.

“What?” I ran my finger over the rim of my cup, waiting for him to say something. Every atom in my body felt like it was going to burst with discomfort. This was my chance, the perfect opening. Or at least
an
opening. “That’s sort of why I called you today.”

He reeled back, wrinkles indenting his forehead. “Wait, did you two get back together? Is that why you brought me here?” He stabbed his hand at the crowded room.

“No, of course not. It’s just—” I bit my inner cheek. “The nights I don’t come over. Do other girls?”

Corey sighed and looked away from me. That right there was all the confirmation I needed. My stomach twisted. A fit of giggling erupted as the girls that had waved to Corey commandeered the table next to us.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said.

I rose on wobbly legs and clutched my coffee to my chest like a shield. My fragile heart needed more than lukewarm liquid to prevent it from getting damaged.

He held the door open for me. Goose bumps popped along my arms from the blast of chilly fall air. I took a cautious step through the door. He followed, keeping a good foot distance between us as he walked beside me. Wind seized my hair and whipped strands around my face. We weaved through the crowded street, dodging cars and pedestrians like they were obstacles in a video game. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other so I didn’t splatter to pieces on the sidewalk right in front of him.

“My brother’s only three years older than me and already divorced,” he said as we trekked toward the quad, a grassy expanse dusted with frost. “My ex-girlfriend cheated on me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have a hard time trusting people when it comes to relationships.”

“You can trust me, Corey. Really.”

“I need more time.”

My heart deflated. I nodded. What was I supposed to do instead, beg him to change his mind?

“But, I’m glad you’re here. And I don’t want you to go away.” He reached for my hand.

I squeezed his. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Is your dad coming up for parent’s weekend?” He glanced at me sideways.

“No. Saturdays are his busy day.” I felt the need to clarify. “He’s an eye doctor.”

Corey shot upright like a cannon. “For real? Can he get me colored contacts?”

“Um, sure. I’ll ask him.” This was sort of odd. He wasn’t my boyfriend. He was holding my hand. We’d had an intense conversation that may or may not have included his confession for hooking up with other girls, too. And now we were discussing contacts.

“Holy shit. You rock. I’ve always wanted a pair.” He swung our arms between us. “Anyway, my parents and I are having dinner tomorrow night. Wanna come?”

My feet stopped dead. This was the weirdest conversation ever. Now he was asking me to meet his parents?

But maybe it wasn’t what he was saying, it was what he didn’t say. Meeting parents was a huge step, and he wanted to take that leap with me. It wasn’t exactly a definition on our relationship, but it was
something.

“I’d love to.”

“I’
M HERE! I’M HERE!” Fallon rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her. Her long blond waves bounced on her skinny shoulders. “I’m so sorry. My parents wouldn’t leave me alone. I finally told them I had loads of homework so they’d ditch me for a while.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at my closet. I wore nothing except a bra and underwear, my hair and make-up done. “Help! This is a life or death fashion emergency. I want something that will make Corey’s parents say”—I made my voice go high-pitched and donned a terrible southern accent even though Corey was from Connecticut—”
By golly, she’s the perfect girl for our son!
”

Fallon giggled. “Hopefully they don’t actually use the word
golly
.”

I shot her a dirty look. “But the outfit also needs to make Corey say”—I lowered my voice an octave—”
Mac, meeting my parents is a huge deal to me and in conclusion, I think you should be my exclusive girlfriend
.”

Fallon slapped her hand on her yellow blanket to stifle her laughter. “It sounds like Corey’s writing an essay. Make sure he includes a topic sentence and a summation paragraph.”

“I see you standing there, not helping.” I reached for my cell phone. “Hold on, I’m calling for a roommate transfer.”

Fallon strolled to my closet and leafed through it. My mind rejecting each article of clothing she hovered over. “Okay, so what are your options so far?”

“Um…a really sexy lace bra and matching underwear?”

“Sexy yes…but I’m not sure it conveys your exact message. At least it doesn’t convey the part about you being perfect for their son.”

“I’m thinking about wearing my black pants.” I held them up to her.

“Excellent choice. That’s a start.”

“But I think all my shirts are too low cut. And he’s seen them all.” Mostly in passing as he lifted them over my head, but still. My shoulders slumped.

“Mackenzie, you’re way overreacting. Anything you wear will be fine. Your makeup looks really pretty.” She tapped her finger to her lips. “What about that beige sweater you have? The one with the gold trim.”

“Laundry basket.”

“So?”

“Trust me. I’m desperate. I already smelled it.” I wrinkled my nose and shook my head.

Fallon changed gears and slid her closet door open. “Do you want to wear anything of mine?”

“Um, I already tried on basically everything you have.” I gave her a guilty smile. “Nothing seems to be fitting into my image of the perfect outfit.” Not to mention she was two sizes smaller than me.

“So what does this perfect outfit look like in your mind?”

“If I had a perfect outfit, I’d be wearing it.” But I did have a perfect outfit in my mind, only, Bianca owned it. I kept picturing myself meeting Corey’s parents in this elegant blue sweater she wore to our formal Sorority meeting last Sunday. I had thought about calling her to borrow it, but I didn’t want to trigger Corey’s memory of Bianca in any way. He invited me out to dinner. Not her.

“Okay, I have an idea!” She pulled out a crimson shirt with lace trim on the edges I usually wore to the bars. “Pair this with a gray tank top underneath. This way it won’t be low cut anymore.” She switched out my black pants for this knee-length gray wool skirt I only had at school in case of the unrealistic possibility of Professor O’Brien choosing to showcase one of my art pieces at the student gallery. Matching tights completed the ensemble.