I ALWAYS THOUGHT the whole ‘You won’t be able to walk tomorrow’ thing was a lie that men who talked a big game often said to inflate their own egos. It’s a credible conclusion considering no one has ever been able to make a promise on their word.
But Aiden Crawford has a knack for proving me wrong.
Six times. He made my limbs jelly and sent my body orbiting into space, six times. Aiden is a sex god, and it brings me a great deal of pain to admit that.
Damn hockey players and their stamina. Because it’s a ten-minute walk across campus to my first class, and I’m thinking of crawling there instead. My body is clearly basking in the stupid and wonderful decision to sleep with Aiden. I didn’t even need an alarm this morning with all the singing from my ovaries.
“Need a ride?” Donny stares at me through the window of his black G-Wagon.
“Not from you.”
“Come on. You know I’m only trying to help.”
“Help? I have to redo an entire section of my paper.”
When Donny came over Thursday night, he said my paper needed even more work, and that Langston agreed. Now, I have to redo it to add limitations that I had no idea even existed.
“I’ll help you with it. Just get in.”
Because of my uncomfortable walking situation, I hop in. The royal blue interior that his parents customized when he got into Dalton is spotless. The Ralph Lauren sweater and trousers he wears look so preppy I have to hold off rolling my eyes.
“Water?” He pulls out a Fiji water bottle from the console.
I take it with a quick thanks, downing half of it. Yesterday’s activities left me parched. There wasn’t time to recharge because when Aiden fell asleep, I got into an Uber. There is no reason for me to know that he likes to cuddle or that he doesn’t snore.
“Were you out last night?”
When I nod, he glances at me from the driver’s side, but I don’t elaborate. Donny likes to pretend we’re old friends who gossip about our personal lives when that has never been the case.
“You know, partying won’t help you get into the program.”
Here we go. “I’m not partying.”
“You’re moving like you’re hungover. I’m just looking out for you, Summer. I’ve known how much you wanted this for so long. I just hope you don’t lose it by being careless.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Your paper says different.”
A hot spike jabs into my stomach. “You said it was good.” I hate the insecurity that laces my words.
“It should be excellent.”
I despise his constant patronization, but he’s right. “I know. I’ll work on it and send it over.”
He pulls into the parking lot, and we both head in the direction of our classes. I have no classes with Kian today, which is a pro and a con. A pro because I just spent all of yesterday with his best friend and if I accidentally slipped up and told him, I won’t hear the end of it. And a con because without a distraction, Donny’s words continue to replay in my head.
On my way to the cafeteria, I stop at food services to check my card balance for the month. All the money I have in there is from my savings and the odd jobs I did at the beginning of freshman year. The cashier swipes the card and hands it back.
“It’s full. You’re good to go.”
I stare at the plastic card, checking if it’s the right one. There is no way the three meals a day I buy on campus didn’t drain every penny. “Are you sure? Can you check again?”
The woman swipes it again, twisting the screen to show me. “You could buy the cafeteria with that much money,” she says.
Stepping out of line, my breaths are shallow as I dial my father.
“Morning, Su—”
“I don’t need your money.”
Lukas Preston has a bad habit of using money to buy love. It may have worked on my sisters, but it won’t work on me. I have money in my savings from waitressing the past three years, and the rest is covered with my scholarship. Aside from the money my mom is adamant that I use, my dad has always been my last option.
“It’s not about the money, Sunshine. I want to make sure you’re doing okay over there.”
A resentful scoff rises in my throat. “You should have spent it on someone who could be bought because it’s not me.”
“Summer, that is no way to speak to me,” he scolds, and a spike of guilt hits. The feeling is so instinctual it’s hard to feel vindicated by my behavior. “I’d still like to have dinner when you’re free.”
“I called because I don’t want you spending a penny on me. And no, I’m not available for dinner.” I hang up, still feeling that dark twist in my stomach. It lasts for days after I speak to my dad, but I’ve learned to live with it.
Defeated, I swipe the card for my lunch and find a spot in the lounge. Kian Ishida walks in holding a pink gift basket and wearing a bright smile, pulling me out of my pathetic reverie. His presence is lifting, but I still ignore it.
“Oh c’mon, anything but the silent treatment,” he groans like he’s in physical pain. “Did you get the Uncle Frank’s pizza? And the handmade card? In case you’re not a fan of those, I made you a gift basket all on my own. I even included some bruise cream.”
If falling on my ass wasn’t enough embarrassment, then the bruise cream would do the trick. The basket Kian places in front of me is wrapped with a neat pink bow. Through the poorly taped cellophane, I can see snacks, tea, and skincare items.
It’s been days since Kian embarrassed me at Starlight, and he’s been working overtime for my forgiveness. The handmade gift pulls at my heartstrings. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment.”
“Good, but I’d do this forever if I had to,” he says. “You’re my best friend, Summer, and I don’t take hurting my friends lightly.”
I glance at him. “I thought Aiden was your best friend.”
“Yeah and all the guys, but you’re my best and only girl friend.”
“Wow, what an achievement,” I mutter.
“I’d call you my sister, but I don’t want to draw that hard line just yet in case Crawford fucks up.”
The joke might have been funny if I was in a better mood. “Hey, you never told me what it was like.”
“What?”
“Being dropped on your head as a child.”
He scowls.
As stupid as Kian is about ninety percent of the time, hearing him call me his best friend feels like a warm hug. It’s rare that I get this close to anyone, but with him, it feels natural. I won’t tell him now, but he’s one of my best friends, too.
