Page 61 of Crashing Tides

As far as I can tell, he doesn’t have any, either. Then again, it was dark the only time I ever saw him naked.

He crosses his arms, gives me an infuriating smirk. “I’m not telling.”

There’s an implication there. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to find out.

The problem is that pretty sure isn’t good enough when it comes to potentially ruining my friendships, fragile as they are.

My phone buzzes. It’s Aleo, demanding that I participate in tonight’s dramatic reading of Wicked Wanda and the Ways. I sigh. “I think I accidentally joined a theatre troupe.”

Duncan’s eyebrows come together. “Is that what happened?” He says it like our productions are some kind of neighborhood drama that he’s witnessed through a hole in the fence. I know he’s stopped to watch us a few times, which is horrifying, because none of us can act.

Honestly, we probably shouldn’t be allowed to do this in public. For our sakes as well as everyone else’s.

“My roommate is really into it,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “He won’t take no for an answer.”

“Do you like it?”

“I think I just like having friends,” I say into my hands. “I like watching other people.”

“Maybe he should make you a stagehand, then.”

I lower my hands. “Is that an option?”

He laughs. “Ask your roommate.”

When we finally part ways, I feel a little lighter, a little more seen. I’m not sure if we’re friends yet, but I like hanging out with him, and by the time I leave the library, I think maybe he likes hanging out with me, too. His smile is easy and his eyes are soft in a way that makes me kinda warm and nervous at the same time.

I grin the whole way home.

We finally get kicked out of the dining hall.

I’m drunk and playing the part of Sultry Way Two, who I have deduced is some kind of portal-guarding gnome desperate to participate in an orgy with Wicked Wanda and four other gnomes. Aleo is Wanda, so April, Collin, Jane and I play horny gnomes eager to follow through portals.

Obviously, we get shut down right when Wicked Wanda has cursed us all to spend the rest of our days lost in the Forest of Portals, which is arguably the best part.

I’m both embarrassed and relieved when I stumble outside along with everyone else, a laughing, drunken entourage trailing behind us. “I’m not even disappointed,” I tell Jane. “Wicked Wanda wasn’t one of better productions.”

“Fuck, no,” Jane slurs. Tonight, she’s broken her own rule and downed several glasses of wine. “Who picked this one?”

If she’s drunk, I’m drunker. We lean against each other, stumbling, laughing. Outside, it’s raining. “Collin, I think.”

“Ugh. He’s got no taste.”

“This isn’t dinner and a show!” shouts a dining hall employee, leaning out the door after us. “Find somewhere else to do this!”

“Fine,” Aleo grumbles. He turns, raises his fist. “We will!”

“And you’re not invited,” someone from the crowd adds. A couple of people cheer.

We aren’t good at this. We aren’t even funny. We should not have a crowd around us.

Jane and I slip away before Aleo can decide where we’re relocating. We flop onto a bench on the other side of campus, soaked from the rain, triumphant in our escape.

And then I remember something very important.

“Hey,” I say. “Can you draw?”

Jane blinks big green eyes at me. “Why?”