Page 71 of The Play

“Better. I mean, my boyfriend cheated on me, so I’m not throwing any parades right now, but I’m also not tempted to commit violence and blow up his apartment.” Which, considering my behavior following Corinne’s housewarming, is certainly progress.

I honestly think I blacked out that night. I remember everything I did, but the memories feel removed and are filtered through a red haze. Throwing Nico’s clothes out the window, smashing his PlayStation, punching him in the face. The clearest of the memories are the ones involving Hunter and his roommates. That silly boardgame we played had succeeded in calming me down, and therefore I’m forever indebted to Zombies!™

“Have you spoken to him?” TJ asks. “Or do you still have his number blocked?”

“Still blocked.” I had no choice but to do it. Nico was calling and texting so often it was becoming intolerable. “But he did show up at the house last week,” I admit.

TJ frowns deeply. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“There was nothing to tell. He knocked on the door, and Josie and the others threatened to castrate him if he came by again.”

“Good. And don’t forget, my offer still stands—I’ll beat him up for you if you want.”

I give a dry smile. “He’s not worth it. Besides, I don’t want you getting hurt.” TJ isn’t scrawny, but he’s five-eight with a lanky build. Nico would murder him in a fight.

His hand tightens over mine.

“I didn’t mean it in a you’re-a-wimp sense,” I backpedal. “I know you’re not. I just mean he’s not worth the effort. Besides, you’d have to get in line. Pax is already doing extra arm days at the gym to bulk up, so that he can, and I quote, ‘fuck him up and not in the good way.’” We both snicker. “And Darius isn’t speaking to him at all.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yep. Say what you will about D, but you know how he feels about monogamy.” Darius is also very religious, so he doesn’t condone anything that treads the line of immorality. “Oh, and we can’t forget about Hunter. He would love to knock Nico around.”

Speaking of Hunter, my phone buzzes a minute later with a text from him. I click on it to find a picture of an egg in a tiny hammock. A second message simply says:@PabloEggscobar.

Oh my God.

Pablo has his own Instagram account now.

TJ leans in curiously. “What’s that pic of?”

“They have a pet egg.” I put the phone down, shaking my head.

“What? Who?” TJ sounds confused.

“The hockey team. Their mascot is a hard-boiled egg that they all take turns caring for. I think it’s some sort of team-building exercise? Hunter wasn’t very articulate about it.”

“Won’t it go rotten and start stinking?”

“Already has. These days it’s wrapped up in cellophane and kept in the fridge overnight, but the plastic wrap hasn’t suppressed the smell completely. Hunter had the egg on him last week and I kept catching whiffs of sulfur.”

“That is so weird. I’ll never understand jocks.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s an across-the-board jock thing. I think it’s a Briar hockey player thing. They’re all nuts, Hunter included.”

“Then why do you keep texting with him?” TJ asks lightly.

“Because we’re friends.” I shrug. “My friends are allowed to be nuts.”

And Hunter, for all his strange habits, has been an amazing friend to me since my relationship was blown to smithereens. Also, his roommates are my new favorite people. Brenna is a total smartass and I love her. Summer and I don’t have much in common, but she makes me laugh. And Rupi is…Rupi. Her relationship with Hunter’s friend Hollis fascinates me. I truly can’t tell if they’re madly in love or hate each other’s guts. Maybe a mixture of both? Either way, they’re highly entertaining.

I’m learning that keeping busy is the best remedy for a bad break-up. This means concentrating on midterms, math quizzes, chem labs, psych readings, anything that occupies my brain. And when my brain gets tired, I distract myself with friends. Drinks with Pippa, movie nights with my sorority sisters, hangouts at Hunter’s house. So far, it’s helping.

“When does your bus leave today?” TJ asks over the rim of his cup. A teabag string hangs over the edge. He’s not a coffee drinker, so it’s herbal teas for him.

“Seven-thirty.” I groan. “Ugh, I’m not looking forward to Thanksgiving. My parents are going to have simultaneous heart attacks when I tell them about Nico.”

“Wait, you still haven’t told them you guys broke up?”

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