Page 13 of True Blue

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, remembering the text. I grab my lamp, needing to finish moving the boxes so I can kick Christopher out. “I don’t drink coffee. The caffeine is really bad for you.” I try to think of something to say to make up for my abruptness but can’t and just end up walking back into my room. Taking a moment, I stand by my bed, lamp in hand and breathe. I’m fucking this up. Panic starts to bubble up in my throat and I try the breaths I read about. In through my nose, out through my mouth.

The sound of keys jangling interrupts my breathing. “All set. This your new roommate?” a new voice says. A new male voice. My eyes fly open. The only thing that could make this worse is Christopher getting into a pissing match with Mira’s boyfriend.

I rush to the doorway, saying, “No, that’d be me.” The last word dies on my tongue as I put my hands on my hips and take in the guy standing beside Mira in the living room. His hazel eyes find mine as I openly gape at him. He’s massive, taller than Mira, and probably taller than Christopher. Broader too. His baseball shirt clings to his chest, the black sleeves cutting across his shoulders to show off his build. Christopher always wearscrisp button downs, trying to look more like his father, but they always make him look stiff. This guy looks comfortable in his clothes, right down to the worn-out converse on his feet.

I realize I'm openly checking him out in front of my boyfriend. And Mira. I change my expression to disdain, not wanting her to think I’m interested in her guy and blatantly making it obvious. Pulling my eyes back up to Mira’s, I say, “This your boyfriend?” trying to sound unimpressed.

Mira shakes her head. “No, Bentley’s just a friend.”

Christopher sits up on the couch. A flutter goes through my gut and the panic returns. If Bentley was Mira’s boyfriend, Christopher might not be too bad. But now he’ll be unbearable. Even if he leaves right now, he’ll be texting every few days asking if Bentley’s around, what I think of him, making comments about not liking him. It’s how he was with every unattached guy I’ve ever interacted with in front of him before, no matter how innocuous.

Bentley’s voice pulls me out of the panic swirling inside me. “You wound me,” he says and clutches his chest, looking down at Mira. She frowns up at him.

Christopher suddenly stands. “You gay or something?” He steps closer to Bentley and Mira and the panic climbs higher in my stomach, matching the growing tension in the room. I dig my hands further into my hips, trying to ground myself.

Bentley glares at Christopher as his eyes switch over to him. Christopher tries to stand taller, but Bentley has a few inches on him, even in his relaxed posture. “You have a problem with it if I was?”

Christopher’s shoulders fall as he backs down a bit. “No, just want to make sure you’re not sniffing around my girl.”

I tighten my grip again, pinching myself so I don’t scream. Ignoring the urge, I snort, forcing myself to say, “Babe, come on. This guy is so not my type.” I grab a box and rush into my roomto hide my face as heat rises on my neck and chest from the lie. Having more of my father’s darker complexion probably saves me a bit, but feeling the flush always makes me think people can see it all over my face.

“Don’t worry,” Bentley calls as I hide in my room. “Snob isn’t mine.” The words stab into me, and I hug the box tighter against my abdomen. My mom’s face flashes in my mind, the fake laughter she uses for investors, practiced smiles and perfectly honed expressions of shock or outrage that she can pull out perfectly when needed. I always thought I wasn’t like her. Not the her she is now. Senator Mom and Maine Mom are very separate in my mind, and I held onto the memories of Maine Mom every time she would cancel on me or schedule me for an appearance somewhere so I wouldn’t be in her hair. But maybe being around the Senator the last five years has affected me more than I thought. My first reaction to Mira and Bentley had been being a bitch and I’m not even really sure why.

I hear Christopher grind out, “Stay away from Janette.” His footsteps draw closer, and a door closes in the living room. I put the box on the floor next to the other I dropped earlier, going back over to the one on my bed and picking up the pieces of the broken mug again.

Christopher sits next to the box, looking up at me. “Want me to stay the night, babe?”

I grip the shard of ceramic a little too tight, a piece slicing into my palm. Wincing, I pull my hand back from the box. “No, it’s fine.” I walk over to my desk, getting a Band-Aid out of my purse. “You have work tomorrow and already bought the ticket home.” I walk out to the kitchen, running the faucet and holding my hand under the water. Mira’s door is closed, and I hear faint music coming from the other side.

Christopher comes out of my room and leans against the doorframe. “I could call in sick.”

Shaking my head, I turn off the faucet and grab a paper towel off the roll I left on the counter earlier. “Your dad will be mad at me if you call in sick just to stay here. And then my mom will hear about it and chastise me for distracting you and not supporting you. She’d never forgive me if I distracted the son of her biggest backer and caused a rift between her and your dad.” I roll my eyes, and Christopher pushes off the wall, coming over to me.

“Okay, babe. But I already got dad to promise me the company jet to come see you next week. And you better be distracting me while I'm here.” He kisses the side of my head as I peel the paper off the Band-Aid, ignoring his words.

“You should probably get going,” I say, nodding toward the clock on the microwave. “You still have to give back the car and your flight leaves at four fifteen.”

He glances at the time. “Shit. Yeah, I better get going.” He ducks back into my room, grabbing his keys and wallet off my desk and tucking them into his pockets. I walk to the door, meeting him as he walks out. “I’ll see you on Friday, babe.” He leans down, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing me. “Try not to miss me too much,” he says with a wink before walking out of the suite. I lean back against the doorframe, closing my eyes.

“Cute.” Bentley’s voice forces my eyes open, and I watch him as he walks past me and into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he grabs a water bottle and closes it quickly. “You two seem good for each other,” he adds with a smirk. Something hot rages in my blood and I clench my fists. “Try not to miss him too much,” he mocks before going back into Mira’s room with a chuckle. I step fully into my room, slamming the door closed behind me.

Standing in my new dorm, finally alone, I try to erase the image of Bentley’s condescending face from my mind. My cellbuzzes on the desk and I walk over to the perfectly timed distraction.

Mom

Glad to hear it. See you in a few weeks.

I stare at Mom’s text, reading it a couple of times before clearing the notification. The heat simmers to a low boil, as I look at the framed picture of Dad sitting next to my purse. It was the first thing I unpacked, keeping it in my bag to make sure it got here unscathed.

“Back at your old stomping grounds, Dad.” Tears blur the edge of my vision.

Another text makes my phone shake in my hand, and I look down, seeing Layla’s name pop up.

Layla C.

Are you done unpacking yet? Dad finally left and I kicked Gwen out with him, so you better be free.

I smile and wipe my eyes, replying that I’m coming down.

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