Page 27 of Strelitzias in Spring

“Suck it up, you owe me this.”

“Okay, crazy, release Rena and take a step back,” CeCe orders.

“Fine.” Ava sulks, unlatching her arms from my body. “But you,” she says, pointing at me. “You better start talking while I eat this pork roll, egg, and cheese. I don’t want to hear anything but the sound of your voice until I’m satisfied with your explanation.”

I shake my head but laugh. “Can we do this inside the apartment and not in the hallway? I don’t want my neighbors to overhear our entire conversation.” I grab the bag from CeCe’s hand and step to the side, allowing them enough room to enter my apartment. As soon as I shut the door, Celeste whirls around to face me.

“Give me that bag. You are not going to distract us by playing host.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” I grumble, clutching the bag closer to my body and skirting around them toward the kitchen.

“Nope, not happening. Hand it over.”

With a sigh, I hand the bag back to Celeste, watch her walk to the kitchen table, and set it down.

“This is the part where you start talking, Rena,” Ava mock whispers beside me.

I shrug, downplaying the events on Friday. “Not much happened. Now, what did you get me from JJ’s?”

“Oh, no you don’t. If I were to call my cousin right now, would he tell me the same story? Or would there be a different recollection of events?” At the mention of Wolf, my insides go liquid, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupts in my stomach. My mind travels back to his hands on my back, my jaw, and my elbows, cleaning me up while teasing me for my lack of organization. “See that look. That look on your face tells me that something happened. So, spill it, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” I mumble, not liking the nickname in any voice other than Wolf’s. What the hell is wrong with me? “Friday night did not go as planned.” I pause, sighing at the reminder. “I told you; Meg picked me up, and it was a ‘messy mixer,’ which, yes”—I cut a glare at Ava—“I know is gross, but it sounded like fun when she described it. When we got there, I went to the basement and got an elbow to the face, followed by scraped elbows.” I twist my arms to show the bandages. “These were an accident from one of the brothers in the fraternity, Jack. He felt horrible and tried to make it up to me, even offering to pay for my phone, which cracked. I went to the store and had it fixed yesterday, so that wasn’t an issue. But after Jack asked me to dance and left to get a drink or put a drink down, or whatever exactly it was that he was supposed to do, Dylan came.”

“What?” “I’ll fucking kill that gerbil,” Ava and Celeste yell simultaneously.

I shake my head, dismissing their question and comment. “I didn’t realize it was him—he wasn’t supposed to be there, anyway; it was a closed party, but when I spoke to Meg yesterday, she said he came as a guest of one of the brothers. I thought Jack was getting a little too comfortable because when arms grabbed my hips and pulled me back, I felt so uncomfortable and violated. It wasn’t until I saw a unique scar on Dylan’s wrist and heard his voice that I realized who it was.

“I tried to pry him off as he spewed mean words at me, but I wasn’t able to at first. But then I was consumed by so much rage after he called me a slut, that I broke his hold and slapped him across the face. He became irate after that, and Jack tried to step in and diffuse the situation; he even yelled at Dylan. But I was so upset that I ran away and closed myself in the bathroom. I ran by Meg on my way upstairs, and she followed me. I assume Jack told her about what happened, which is why she called you when I didn’t come out when she knocked.”

“You locked yourself in a dirty bathroom? Why didn’t you have one of the sober drivers take you home?”

I shrug, releasing a long breath. “It was closer than the front door, and I didn’t lock myself in. I closed the door but never engaged the lock; it’s not my fault Meg didn’t try the handle.”

“And Wolf?”

I can’t hold back the small smile that pulls on my lips. “Wolf was like a wrecking ball. He terrorized half the party just by showing up there, and he was covered in syrup. I think that if I wasn’t so shaken up, he would have called the cops to shut it down; he kept murmuring about ‘goddamn college kids playing with food.’ But he got me out of there and brought me back here.”

“He just dropped you off? He didn’t make sure you were okay?”

I clear my throat, shifting my weight on my feet as I decide how best to answer. “Ah, not exactly. He came up to the apartment after and cleaned my scrapes with supplies he ordered from the pharmacy. He wasn’t too happy with me, but he made sure I was okay before he left.” I leave out the touches, the tension, and the tangible need I had to climb his body like a tree.

“God, Rena, I wish I could twist that dick’s balls off and feed them to piranhas,” CeCe seethes, crinkling the paper bag in her grip. “The next time I see him, I’m going to put him in a Kimura hold and not release him until he’s unconscious. Then, I’ll shave off his eyebrows and feed him the hair.”

Ava and I look at each other before turning our gazes to Celeste, who looks like a bloodthirsty witch fromMacbeth. “Calm down, C, you sound deranged.”

“Calm down? Aves, Serena was assaulted in front of a basement full of people by her ‘best friend,’ and you’re telling me to calm my tits?” Celeste releases the bag long enough to provide air quotes around the wordsbest friend. As though I need any further confirmation that Dylan is a horrible person.

“Nope, I heard it, too. But you’re taking indignation to a whole other level, so simmer down before you pop a blood vessel in your eye again.” Ava stops talking and turns to me. “In high school, the red-headed monster over there got so mad when some idiot on the football team started a rumor about Seraphina, my sister, that she screamed in the bathroom until her eyes turned red. I’ll never forget the look on the douchebag’s face when she confronted him like a harpy in the middle of the cafeteria. C, didn’t he choke on his Frito when you whispered your threat to him? What was it again?”

“I told him that if he didn’t stop insinuating that Seraphina was anything less than an intelligent young lady, I would chop off his dick with a rusty kitchen knife and shove it down his throat so that he could choke on his stupidity. It would have been poetic justice.”

“There is something so wrong with the two of you,” I whisper, shaking my head.

“Yes, but you love us. Back to the points at hand: Dylan is an asshole, and CeCe shouldn’t be allowed near him until she cools down.”

“No, it’s a point, singular: Dylan deserves explosive diarrhea for the rest of his pitiful life.”

“Okay, and we’re done. Celeste, stop manhandling that bag and pass the food over here.” I walk to the table and move the food out of her reach, finally prying open the brown paper held together by staples. The smell of grease and herbs fill the room, and my stomach grumbles, silencing any protests Celeste planned on making.

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