Page 65 of The Very First Night

Although I set up social media accounts for my photography business, I haven’t posted yet. Most of my portfolio is either stuff I’ve done for school or random headshots like the ones I took for Tanner last semester, so I don’t have much to share.

Tanner.

God, what he said the other night still has me reeling and I can’t figure out how I feel about it.

Yes, he’s hot. I’d have to be blind not to see that—even Marcus will admit Tanner is hot and he’s a heterosexual man. Some things are as much a fact as “the sky is blue.” But sleeping with Tanner? That sounds like a one-way ticket to ruining our friendship, and I can’t let that happen. He’s far too important to me to risk everything for the sake of getting laid.

So it’s decided: no having sex with Tanner.

Why am I weirdly disappointed by that decision? Oh, right—because it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last four days.

My thoughts wander to Tanner’s other suggestion from that night, the part that should cause me anxiety but by comparison feels strangely safe.

Tanner had a point when it comes to my brother. It isn’t Patrick’s fault that our shared parent left me to raise him, even if that knowledge lingers in the back of my mind every time I read his letter, which I’ve done roughly thirty-three times since it arrived a week and a half ago.

Professor Montoya’s bellowing voice rips me out of my thoughts. “In preparation for Friday’s class, please create an Instagram account and a Facebook page for your business. It doesn’t have to be real, but it can be if you are on the entrepreneurial path. Just be sure to have both set up before Friday morning’s class, as it is necessary for your next assignment.”

I step out of Franklin Hall just as rain starts to drizzle down from the sky, thankfully barely a peppering of water atop my head as I make my way back to central campus.

Jenna meets me in the student center for a quick bite before we head back to the house. We’ve been debating whether we want to go to the Dusty Armadillo tonight, since it’s the first Wednesday night of the semester and, thus, resident college night. We still haven’t decided, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I’m even up for going out.

“Did you talk to your mom about that wedding she wanted you to shoot?” Jenna asks as we near the front of the line to order the same basic bagels with cream cheese that we’ve been getting since freshman year. If it isn’t broke, why fix it, ya know?

I don’t look away from my phone as I respond to my mom’s text message. “Peeking at my phone, are we?”

Jenna laughs. “Usually, yes. But that was just a lucky guess. So, are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, I think so. She just needs to confirm my rate with the bride.” We approach the counter and I order an everything bagel with cream cheese while Jenna orders a plain bagel with strawberry cream cheese.

We find a table against the far wall of windows, thankful that the rain held off until we were inside. The light drizzle has transformed into a complete torrential downpour.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Jenna asks before shoving almost half her bagel in her mouth.

“Are you afraid the bagel is going to run away if you don’t eat it in three bites?”

“Fuck off, I’m hungry,” she mumbles. “Answer my question—did you want to go to the Dusty tonight?”

I shrug, taking a normal-person-sized bite of my own bagel.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how it thrills me.” She does her best Miranda Priestly impression.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not really feeling up to it.” I intentionally avoid eye contact as I take another bite of my bagel.

“Kat.” She snaps her fingers in front of me, an annoyed yet concerned expression on her face.

“What?” I say.

“You didn’t go out with us at all this weekend. It’s our senior year. I’m not going to push you to do something that you’re not comfortable with, but I also don’t want you to regret letting our last year of college pass you by because Elijah is an asshole.”

She has a point, but I still find myself searching for another reason to tell her no. When I can’t think of anything, I do the next best thing: I deflect.

“Tanner told me he wants to have sex with me.”

Jenna’s eyes go wide, wider than I think I’ve ever seen them. Her voice squeaks, pitching upward as she all but yells, “Katarina Emma Lyn, way to bury the goddamned lead! He said that? Like, he told you, ‘Kat, I want to have sex with you’?”

“Well…no.”

“So, what did he say?”

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