Page 52 of The Chase

Summer appears on the cobblestone path, bundled up in a knee-length coat and a thick red scarf looped around her neck and hair. Her easy gait stutters for a step when she notices me. The moment our eyes lock, I remember her tiny towel sliding off her delectable body. That split-second glimpse of her wet, naked tits. A fleeting, dick-hardening tease.

I don’t call out a hello or raise my hand in a wave. I’m waiting for her to initiate the greeting. Only, she doesn’t. A few seconds tick by. Then she frowns at me and keeps walking. I don’t know if I feel offended or ashamed. Maybe I should’ve greeted her first.

“Do you know her?” Nora has realized my attention’s been diverted. Her suspicious gaze rests on Summer as she awaits my response.

“Yeah. She’s a friend’s sister,” I say vaguely, deciding not to mention that we’re roommates. I feel like that’ll just open a conversation I’m not in the mood to have.

Nora relaxes. “Oh, cool. Anyway, I have to run, but I’m thinking maybe it’s time we grab that elusive drink we’ve been talking about for a year?”

I laugh. “Maybe we should.” We’d talked about it last year in Color Theory, but my schedule makes it hard for me to date. We played phone tag for a while, and by the time I finally had a free evening, Nora was dating someone else.

Clearly she’s single again. “Do you still have my number?” she asks.

“Still got it.”

She looks pleased by that. “How about tomorrow night at Malone’s? Text me during the day to confirm?”

“Sounds great.”

“Perfect. See you then.” She squeezes my arm briefly, then hurries toward the same building Summer just disappeared into.

I guess I have a date tomorrow night.

13

SUMMER

ASIGET COMFY IN MY SEAT IN THEHISTORY OFFASHIONlecture hall, I try to remind myself that I’m all about girl power. We live in a society where too many women tear each other down instead of raising each other up. That’s absurd to me. We need to empower one another, teach future generations of girls that it’s important to stand together. Once upon a time, we had a common goal and a common enemy. We were burning bras and fighting for the right to vote.

Now we’re body shaming each other on social media and blaming the mistress if our man cheats.

I don’t consider myself a radical feminist. I don’t believe men are evil demons from hell and should be purged from society—I think men have lots of good things to offer the world. Their dicks are fabulous, for one.

It would just be really nice if we could show some female solidarity like we used to.

But I know what’s stopping us: jealousy. We’re too frigging envious of each other, and envy is such a crippling feeling. It causes us to say things and behave in ways that we’re secretly ashamed of, or at least I am. I regret nearly allthe things I’ve said and done out of jealousy. I’ve also been on the receiving end of it from other girls. Some of them resented me for my looks. Others assumed I was going to be a bitch to them because of said looks, so they attacked first.

In spite of that, I’ve always tried to keep a smile on my face and be nice to everyone, even the haters. Ironically, a lot of the haters in high school ended up good friends of mine once they stopped linking me to their own insecurities.

So yes, I’m pro girl power. Ladies doing it for themselves. I am woman, hear me roar.

Yet I hate this girl Nora with the heat of a thousand suns.

She was talking to Fitz before class. Now she’s sitting with two other chicks, talkingaboutFitz. I know her name is Nora because one of her friends called her that, and since I’m only two rows behind them, every word she utters floats toward me, clear as a bell.

“…justsocool. And wicked smart. And he’ssotalented. You should see his paintings.”

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s hot as fuck,” her friend teases her.

“Those tats,” the other friend sighs.

I guess they’ve all seen Fitz’s tats somehow? I now loathe the friends too.

“Sohot,” Nora says, pretending to fan herself.

And I’msoready to accidentally throw something at her, because she’ssoannoying with her overuse and overemphasis of the wordso.

“We’re having drinks tomorrow night.”

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