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The only people I text, besides Zac, are both sitting in my room, so I don’t know who it is, though I can make an educated guess.
“Who is that?” Ali asks once she sees the confusion set in on my face.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, shaking my head. “I don’t know this number.”
“There’s a good chance that’s EJ,” Marc slowly tells me, guilt heavy in his tone.
“What?”
“Well...” Ali interrupts, standing from my chair. “That’s my cue to go.” She looks between Marc and me before turning on her heel and leaving the room.
“I gave him your number. He came by looking for you this morning,” Marc adds sheepishly.
“He did?”
I figured that Eli was only remorseful because of the alcohol coursing through his veins. I didn’t expect him to try to apologize again in the light of day.
“I just figured it was easier for him to text you, rather than him continuing to swing by and try to apologize for whatever shit he pulled last night. Sorry if I overstepped.”
“It’s fine, really,” I reassure him.
Turning my attention back to my phone, I hover my thumb over the keys, ready to type my response to Eli, but I’m not sure what to say. Between my conflicting feelings and my conversation with Ali, I’m confused, to say the least. After a moment, I decide not to respond at all, as I click the lock screen and toss it back on my bed.
I catch Marc watching my movements out of the corner of my eye. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Even if it’s about my brother.”
“I know. But there’s nothing to talk about.” I give him a forced smile, trying to look convincing.
“Okay. Since you’re too stubborn to tell me what’s going on, I’m going to pretend that I believe you, for now.” He starts heading towards the door before adding, “And Logan?”
“Yeah?” I turn to face him.
“You should really shower. You smell terrible,” he says, with a playful smile on his face as he eyes my sweaty workout clothes.
I grab my pillow from my bed and chuck it in his direction. “Yeah. I know, asshole!” I laugh. “Everyone keeps coming into my room and bugging me!”
“Love you,” he adds as he walks out of my room, proudly chuckling at himself.
“Love you too, jerk.” I shake my head and return to folding the pile of clothes on my bed with a smile plastered on my face.
My phone dings again. I pick it up to see yet another text from Eli’s unsaved number, and my smile disappears.
E: Can we talk?
Without responding, I hold down the power button and shut my phone off. I don’t know what to say to him, so I decide not to deal with it today.
Typically, I speed through my shower routine so I can get back to the security of my dorm room as quickly as possible. I have yet to get comfortable with the idea of coed bathrooms, not to mention the fact that the only thing protecting my naked body from the rest of the world to see is a thin and flimsy shower curtain.
However, today I decide to take my time. I let the hot water wash over my sore muscles from this morning’s boxing session while I clear my head. I usually do my best thinking while in the shower, but today I decide to tune out, turn my mind off, and not think about anything.
Once the hot water runs cold, I shut the faucet off and wrap my towel tightly against my body before leaving the protection of the shower walls. Upon exiting, I realize my worry is for nothing, because there’s not a single soul around. Usually, these bathrooms are packed, but I’m assuming most students are spending their Saturday afternoon doing things that are a little more exciting than what I have planned.
Back in my room, I throw on my comfiest outfit: an old tattered sweatshirt of my dad’s, a pair of running shorts, and my coziest socks. I spend the rest of my day exactly as I had scheduled. I put my clean clothes away, take a quick nap, and study for my upcoming week of classes. Ali provides an impromptu fashion show because she needs help choosing an outfit for her date. We decide on a chunky sweater paired with a mini skirt that shows off her legs perfectly. The weather is still warm enough to get away with exposing a little skin, but cold enough that the sweater won’t look out of place.
Marc conveniently swings by my room as Ali is using my mirror to put on her final touches. She’s finishing her makeup by applying a coat of mascara, but besides that, she is dressed and ready to go, and she looks great.
“Woah!” Marc exclaims once his eyes land on Ali.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she quips matter-of-factly while continuing to primp herself in the mirror.
