Page 5 of Your Kiss Is On My List

“Oh my god, he hasn’t changed,” I say, not expecting any sympathy from Lou because Trey is her brother—her real brother. I can’t think of him as my honorary brother anymore because the way I almost drooled on him would make a mockery of that. The way my body reacts to him is so far past sisterly I ought to go to confession right now. But I’ll wait because I’ll probably have a few more illicit thoughts today to confess.

“No—of course not. What were you expecting?” Lou says as she lugs two bags up the front stairs to my room on the second floor. The house is empty except for the chapter president of the sorority, Emily Winiski. She told me where to find the key because she had basketball practice.

“You forget—I haven’t seen him in three whole years.”

“It can’t have been that long? Didn’t you see him at Thanksgiving?”

“No. He was napping or some such crap when I came over.” Lou laughs, but the memory makes me want to cry. Every time I missed him or he was somehow unavailable when I came over was like a stab to my heart. With three years’ worth of stabbing, my heart feels like a bloody, battered pincushion. Or it should—but I guess I’m hopeless, because my excitement at coming to SPU and seeing him today outweighs it all and my heart feels all fresh and new.

“Whatever,” Lou says, plopping the bags on my unmade bed.

“I’m going to need a new mattress,” I say and take out my phone to tap in the name of the top-rated mattress store and place my order for a queen-sized memory foam mattress and frame. I look around the room to make sure it’ll fit and then click to confirm he order. That’s the last of the money in my secret account. It feels good to spend it, to be rid of it. Having that money was so confusing. It was blood money, but good blood money if there’s such a thing.

“You texting what’s his name?”

“What? No. I told you it’s over. Never should have started.”

“But he had all those contacts. You shouldn’t burn your bridges.”

“He shouldn’t have burned his bridges, you mean.” Lou laughs and I try not to feel guilty as she gives me a spontaneous hug. I blamed my transfer on the breakup between me and what’s-his-name, which is so far from the truth I’m surprised my nose isn’t three miles long by now. But I can’t bring myself to tell her the real reason, haven’t shared it with anyone. There’s something too private about it—and too undecided.

She hugs me hard and quick. It’s what I love about her, that endless well of affection. Nothing like what I get at home. No matter. This is my home now.

“You promise to visit every weekend?” I ask.

The door opens wide and Trey pushes his way inside—or at least I think it’s Trey because the three boxes stacked on those well-muscled arms hide his face.

“Welcome,” I say. He grunts.

“Where do you want these?” He peeks around the side of the boxes and my heart thuds as if on cue while I try to hold back showing how I feel. The last thing I want to do is make a fool of myself. Again. I point.

“Over in that corner. Thanks.” I follow him because I can only control myself so much now that I’m in his presence again. Comparing every guy to him for the past three years has kept him front and center in my mind, in my imagination and my dreams. And now I’m here with him for real…

Lou plops on the thin mattress of the unmade bed that comes with the room and grimaces.

“Hey, Trey,” she says, trying to sound casual. I roll my eyes. “Where’s Nate? Is he going to be back for the game Thursday night?” She busies herself unpacking a box of my knick-knacks.

“He’s home still nursing his injury. I’m not sure when he’ll be back or if he’ll make the game. Still waiting to hear.”

“Nate Garino, right?” I ask. “Goalie for the Wildbeasts. His injury didn’t sound bad, according to this morning’s update. Maybe he’ll be back.”

“Well fuck. You’re a regular groupie,” he says, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. I throw a pillow at him. “Seriously, I’m flattered that you followed the team that closely all the way from New York City.”

“Of course I do. It’s your team. I don’t refer to them as the SPU team or the Wildbeast team, I call it Trey’s team.”

“She’s telling the truth. Sadly, she is that pathetic, like a crazy fan girl,” Lou teases.

“Of course I am. I have a famous college hockey star for a neighbor, I get to act like that.” He’s smiling like an indulgent big brother and I can’t say I don’t like how it makes me feel, even if it falls far short of the way I’d like him to look at me. “Hey, we’re neighbors again,” I say, not caring how ridiculous I sound.

“I guess we are. So what made you transfer to SPU? You were at NYU and that’s a damn good school for—”

“She’s on the lam,” Lou says. I laugh. But Trey, he frowns, concern coming off him like a sheet of warmth, soothing my soul, filling that longing I didn’t even realize I had. He cares. He’s always cared and he still does. I let out a deep breath.

“How about if I buy us drinks after we finish moving me in and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Hey, what about me? I can’t stay for drinks. I have to drive, to get home for my night shift at the Pewter Pot.”

“You already know the story,” I say, reaching out to her.