Page 45 of Becoming Selfish

“Anyway—” I begin to change the subject before being interrupted by a knock at my door.

“Hey.” Marc pops his head in my doorway.

“Hey, come in.” I nod towards my room, hoping he didn’t overhear any of mine and Ali’s conversation.

“Marcus,” Ali flatly greets him without looking in his direction.

“Ali,” Marc responds in the same uninterested manner.

They are so weird around each other.

Marc gently swats my shoulder. “Everything okay? You left without saying goodbye last night.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just tired.” I eye Ali, silently begging her not to mention what happened with Eli.

“Okay.” He draws out the word, scrunching his brows together.

I can tell Marc knows I’m lying, but I have a feeling he doesn’t want to press the issue until we are alone.

“Well, I’m going back to the hockey house tonight. You coming?”

I shake my head. “I’m going to sit this one out. I need to catch up on some studying and sleep.”

He understandingly nods. I’m sure he knew I was going to say no before he even asked.

“Ali, you in?” he asks, offhandedly.

“Can’t tonight. I have a date.”

“What?” Marc and I ask at the same time. My question is filled with excitement while his is asked in shock.

“With who?” I grill.

“You know that guy, Dylan, from our class?”

“The kiss-ass who raises his hand every five fucking minutes during a lecture?” Marc questions, his inquiry full of judgment and disgust.

“Yep,” she states proudly.

“He’s cute!” I reassure her.

“He seems lame,” Marc adds.

“Stop.” I playfully smack him in the arm. “That’s exciting. But I thought you don’t do boyfriends?” I turn my attention back to Ali.

“I don’t.” She shrugs. “But I will do free dinners with cute boys.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, laughing at her honesty.

“I like dating, I just don’t want to be in a relationship, that’s all,” Ali explains as she quickly glances in Marc’s direction.

My phone dings, but I don’t see it anywhere around me. Feeling around under my pile of laundry, I hear its sound again, and find it wedged between a stack of clean folded shirts and a pillow on my bed. There are two texts on my screen, both from the same unknown number.

I swipe my finger across the screen to open and read them.

Unknown: Logan?

Unknown: Hi.

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