Page 14 of True Blue

Excitement and nerves crash against each other as I grab my room keys and walk out of the suite, abandoning the rest of my boxes. Walking down to the elevator, I tap my foot while I wait.

What if we don’t click? What if too much has changed, too much time has passed? What if I say stupid shit like I did with Mira?

The doors open and I step inside, feeling my stomach lurch as it descends to the first floor. My phone vibrates again.

Layla C.

Can’t wait!!

I squeeze the keys in my other hand, feeling the new wound throb in my palm.

The elevator dings as the doors open again and I step off, walking slowly down the hall toward 126. A few people still have their doors open, but I keep my eyes ahead as I pass, checking the numbers of each room to double and triple check I'm heading in the right direction while my heart pounds in my ears.

125 appears ahead and I look to the other side, seeing the black numbers painted on the wall next to the open door of Layla’s room. With one more deep breath, I step into view, seeing Layla for the first time since Mom moved us to Georgia. She sits on her bed, reading something on her phone, but only a second passes before she looks up, muddy brown eyes locking with mine.

Layla screams, jumping up from the bed and rushing me. Her arms wrap around my shoulders and mine automatically encircle her waist, relief momentarily paralyzing my brain as I try to catch up with seeing her again. And then we’re jumping and laughing, and I can feel the tears from earlier spilling down my face.

“Janette,” she says, squeezing me tighter. I can hear the tears in her voice, and it makes me sniffle.

“Hi, Layla.” I close my eyes and we just keep hugging.

6

Axel raps his knuckles on my door, leaning against the opposite side of the door frame. “You ready yet?”

I nod, saying, “Yeah, one sec,” and go back to putting on my socks and shoes.

Gen-eds make up most of my schedule this semester, with one business communication course that counts toward my degree. The first night, Axel and I compared schedules and found out we have three classes together. On Monday we headed to MATH-144: Elements of Statistics together and sat next to each other in the back, not really speaking much while the prof went over the syllabus and handed out a general assessment quiz. Afterward, we hung out on the patio near the coffee shop and it just kind of became a silent agreement that we would go to our mutual classes together.

I slip on my shoes and grab my bag, following Axel as he pushes off my doorframe and heads out of the suite. We walk over to the elevator, and I sling my backpack over my left shoulder. Axel stands beside me, rocking back and forth on his heels, backpack on his back and hands resting on the straps under his arms. The posture makes his chest look definedagainst the black undershirt underneath his open pink and green short sleeve Hawaiian shirt. The pattern should be too loud, but for some reason it works for him.

“Think King Arthur will be on the syllabus?” Axel asks, stepping into the elevator and pushing the lobby button. I follow after, leaning against the back of the metal box to try to add some distance between us so I don’t brush up against him.

“Pretty sure King Arthur is fictional.” I pull out my phone and load up my schedule, double checking the room we need to find for HIST-156.

“For real?” Axel’s face scrunches up, looking like he just bit into a lemon. “That was like 75% of the reason I picked this class. I was hoping we’d get to dress up as knights or something.”

I laugh, stepping off the elevator when the doors open. People cover the sidewalk outside, moving between the buildings to get to their next class. We push open the heavy glass paneled doors, entering the fray and moving around Ring Road toward the seminar building we need.

“Probably going to be more about the Magna Carta and the Black Plague.” I sidestep some people stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, all bunched around one person’s phone looking at the campus map and arguing about where Siegal Hall is.

“Bubonic Plague,” Axel says when we step back together, his shoulder hitting mine and making my feet falter for a moment.

“What?” I turn right, checking the sign on the corner to make sure we’re still heading toward Riggs Hall.

“It was the Bubonic Plague or Black Death, not the Black Plague.” Axel chuckles, strolling down the sidewalk like he knows exactly where he’s going. I raise an eyebrow when he glances over at me, probably feeling me staring. “My sister Layla is really into true crime podcasts. Her room is right across from mine at home and we both left our doors open most of the summer.” He shrugs. “Guess I picked up some shit. Want to hearabout how BTK was caught?” He grins when I shake my head, not even sure what that means.

We walk up to Riggs, heading up the stone steps to the front door. Axel reaches the door first, grabbing the handle and waving me ahead as he holds it open. I walk in, holding the second set of doors open for him. Air conditioning greets us as we make our way to the stairwell in the center of the building. “Charlamagne was a knight. I’m pretty sure he was in the Medieval Age.”

Axel grins as we start climbing the stairs. “Maybe I’ll get to rent a suit of armor after all.”

I shake my head, gripping my bag strap tighter. His grin always makes me want to do something stupid, like reach out and touch him when I shouldn’t.

We make our way to the third floor. Room 331 sits right across from the stairwell, and we pass it, heading down the hall and around the corner, looking for 353. When we walk into the open double doors, we find ourselves at the top of a stadium-style seating arrangement with at least a hundred seats across five tiered levels all leading down to a large desk and whiteboard area at the bottom. Twenty or so students already sit in patches around the room, some people quietly chatting while others stare at their phones or look around nervously.

Axel double taps the back of his hand against my chest, pulling my attention from surveying the room to nod at some seats to the right of him in the back of the room. I nod, unable to speak, and follow him into the row, tossing my bag in the seat next to me after we sit and pulling out a notebook and pen. Throwing my bag onto the floor at my feet, I lean back, going back to surveying the room as more people walk in and grab seats.

A ponytail of light brown, tight curls sitting in the front row snags my attention. Smooth amber shoulders sit tenselyunderneath the hair, a mechanical pencil gripped tightly in the hand attached to the end of her arm. Janette turns her head to the right, her profile on display and showcasing her angular bone structure. She’d been cute with the tight space buns and little wispy curls around the back of her neck when we’d met in Mira’s dorm. Her pretty green eyes had been wide and rimmed with thick black lashes when she’d appeared in the door, looking up at me with her lips slightly parted. It was when they opened further and unleashed the dismissive attitude toward not only me, but Mira as well, that had turned me off.

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