I get back to my room and flop on my bed, exhausted. I already talked to my mom and Jennifer earlier about what I thought of each of the houses I’d visited today, how I was starting to feel comfortable in them, and discussed the pros and cons of each in a very methodical way. I turned in my preference card, and now, I just have to wait and see what happens.
Today, we had more free time. I hung out with some of the girls. We got coffee and had a lot of nervous discussions about tomorrow. Everyone shared who they thought their two hopefuls would be. And we talked about what happens next.
I glance at the clock, not able to believe it’s nearly ten.
A bunch of the girls, including Alyssa, went out, but I didn’t go. I feel like I just need some time. To reflect on my decision. To relax.
To take some time for me.
But what I really want to do is talk to Chase. Yesterday was the last day of his preseason training, and I know tonight was the school’s annual red and blue scrimmage between the varsity and JV teams.
I decide to text him before calling in case he went out after.
Me: If you are home from the scrimmage, give me a call.
My phone rings almost immediately.
“Hey,” he says when I answer.
I can honestly say that I’ve missed hearing his voice over the phone on a regular basis.
“How was the game tonight? How’s your elbow?”
“It was fine. I only played the first quarter.”
“Because your elbow is bothering you?”
“No, because I don’t want to get hurt in a stupid scrimmage because some freshman is trying to show off.”
“I wouldn’t want that for you either,” I tell him.
“I heard you talked to my mom today. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t call me.”
“I wanted to wait and call you now. Once the day was over.”
“Like back in the good old days?” he says.
“Yeah, even if we’d hung out all day or if I had just left your house, yours was usually the last voice I heard before I went to sleep every night.”
“That was one of the hardest things to get used to. Not picking up my phone to call you when I got into bed.”
“It was for me, too,” I tell him.
He breathes in deeply, and I can hear him exhale. Like he’s trying not to sigh at me or that I’m testing his patience. Not sure which. Either way, he goes, “So, you made your final choices today, right? Mom said you were having a hard time with deciding between three of them.”
“Actually, I didn’t really tell her or my mom, but I knew which was my number one. What I couldn’t decide was which would be number two.”
“That must mean you have a favorite?”
“I do. And don’t laugh at me.”
“You always say that, but you know I never do,” he sasses back.
“That’s mostly true,” I say, “but there was that one time—”
“Let’s skip memory lane for now and talk about the thing that happened that you don’t want me to laugh about.”
“You know how I’m not super emotional typically, like I’ve never been a crier unless I’m really sad?”
“Of course.”
“I can’t even believe I’m saying this, let alone the fact that it happened. And I’m not sure if it was the stress. Or the fact that this process was almost over. Or that I was exhausted. Or that I barely had a voice left from all the talking I’d done this week. But when I walked into one of the houses, I started crying because I just couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“That’s great though. If it made you that emotional, it has to be the right place for you.”
“And the real shocker of it all—”
“Are you kidding?” He says this like he already knows what I was going to say. “Your favorite was our moms’ sorority, wasn’t it?”
“It was. Seriously, just because it was theirs, I’d sort of put it at the bottom of my list. I didn’t want to be selected just because I was a legacy and they had to take me. But they didn’t cut me early, which supposedly means that’s not the case. And I hope it isn’t. And I really, really hope it’s where I end up.”
“Why did you choose it?” he asks me.
“You know how my dad always says that in high school, he was a big fish in a little pond?”
“And when he went to college, the pond got bigger?” Chase confirms.
“Exactly. I was popular in high school. Considered pretty. Was homecoming queen and all that. But I’ve realized, at college, I’m just a little fish. Half the girls who went through rush were like me in that way.”
“And the other half?” he asks.
“My first few days, I was drawn to certain sororities that I was convinced would be my top picks. The girls in them were all sort of similar and a lot like high-school Devaney. But as the week continued, I noticed that in the sorority I liked the best, all the girls weren’t the same. They were more diverse. Their personalities, their interests, their styles, their looks. I didn’t feel like a clone there. I felt like an individual. Like we were all individuals. And that felt—freeing. Because I don’t want to play the high school game in college. These girls seem to accept me for exactly who I am—or maybe for who I could be someday.”
“Dani, you weren’t the most popular girl in high school your freshman year either. You’re starting over. Heck, you could go all emo if you wanted. Although that’d be hard with hair like yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your hair is like sunshine. It’d be impossible to feel dark around you when you’re so bright.”
I let out a little chuckle. “Is that the line you use when you and Damon go out? I see all his private photos. How do you even get into clubs anyway?”
“Damon got us fake IDs, but I won’t let him use them. Either the club lets us in without them or they don’t. And we don’t drink when we get in even though we probably could.”
“I suppose when you’re driving an exotic car with Diamond on the plates, they don’t question you.”
“That is correct. And I know it sounds reckless, but I make sure it’s not. Damon just likes the attention. College girls are way more fun than high school girls, I’m just saying, is what he says.”
“You sound more like my dad than Damon.”
“Did having the name Diamond help you during rush?”
“I honestly don’t think so,” I tell him.
“I’m proud of you, Dani.”
“For getting chosen?”
“No, for the reasons you chose.”
“Well, I hope it works out the way I want when I open my bid tomorrow.”
“Well, it’s not pizza after a game,” he says, “but I’m really glad I got to talk to you tonight.”
“I’m really glad, too, Chase. Good night.”
I’m about to end the call, but he says, “Don’t you mean, nighty-night?”
I laugh. “If only I were there for the tickle fight.”
“If only,” he says sexily. “Don’t forget to turn out the light.”
