Page 11 of Come As You Are

Salem wasn’t even drinking anything, so I’m not sure what he starts choking on, but I hope it hurts.

Matt, meanwhile, takes my request in stride, as if he hears things like this on a weekly basis or so. “And what kind of person is that?”

I march into the room and sit myself down on Matt’s bed. “Do you know that people are actually saying that Ibeggedto live with Archibald Buchanan, of all people?”

Matt grins. “I’ve heard that, yeah. That’s not true, is it? Because if it is, I’m gonna have to revise my assessment of your being a cool girl.”

“Of course that’s not true! It doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Okay, phew—had to check. But yeah, people love to talk shit, and a girl in a boys’ dorm is interesting. Plus, you happen to have tangled with the wrong kid today; Buchanan’s a legacy, and he’s got a bunch of annoying legacy friends. But tomorrow one of them will find a sale on boat shoes and they’ll move on to a new topic. So who cares what they think?”

“I do,” I say firmly. “I came here for a new start, and instead I’m goddamn ‘Rumson Girl,’ and I hate it. I want to be in control of how people see me. I definitelydon’twant to care about other people’s stupid opinions, and I don’t want to be ‘the nice girl.’”

“We all heard you tear Barnett a new one at orientation,” Salem points out, I guess referring to skid-mark guy. “Don’t worry—no one thinks you’re a nice girl.”

“Well, I’m usually a nice girl,” I snap. “That was an exception.” I pause. “And so’s this.”

“Sounds to me like you’re already doing a great job.” Salem gives me jazz hands, and I wish I had something on me to throw at his smug face.

“Ease up, Grayson,” says Matt, and I could hug him. “Ithink you’re a nice girl, but I’m still not sure what it is you want from me. Are you coming on to me? Because usually I can tell when a girl wants to bone, but you’re a bit of a conundrum, dormie.”

A conundrum. That’s already far more interesting than anything else I have ever been called. “I do not wanna bone,” I say, nearly gagging on the words. “In fact, I specifically do not wanna bone, or date, or anything involving boys right now; this version of me has made way too many bad choices in that department. Also, if I’m gonna be on people’s radar, let it be for something a lot cooler than having been Archibald Buchanan III’s roommate for three minutes.”

“And you think I can make you cool?”

“I think the kinds of girls who climb your rope ladder probably have a lot more fun and take a lot more risks than I do. Andwhile I really do not have any interest in climbing your rope ladder in a literalormetaphorical sense, Idowant to become the kind of girl who takes chances. Breaks rules. Makes her own reputation. Has actualfun.” I cross my legs in a way I’m sure would be extremely seductive if I were not wearing plaid flannel pajama pants. “Teach me your mischievous ways, Matthew.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Salem opening his mouth, and I immediately shut that down. “Not a word.”

He shrugs and goes back to shoving his clothes in his drawers. It makes my hands itch to fold them, but bad girls don’t fold other people’s shirts. Boxers,maybe.

“Evie.” Matt sits down on the edge of his desk with a sigh. “You do not need to be anyone else. And I do not want to be responsible for corrupting you in any way. You seem very…” He waves his hands as he tries to come up with the correct phrasing, and that’s how I know it’s going to hurt like a dagger to the soul. “Pure of heart.”

“Says who?”

“Says the fact that you showed up at my door in flannel jammies asking for help getting into trouble because you literally don’t know how to do it yourself,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “This campus does not need another me, and besides, I only have one vice. Unless you’re interested in a very specific kind of lesson…” His lewd gestures do suggest expertise, but I shudder anyway. “Yeah.” His smile turns into a full-fledged grin now. “That’s what I thought. Catch ya later, dormie, roomie.”

He puts a warm, brotherly hand on my shoulder on his way out, and I want to die.

“Okay, well,” I mutter, “that was about as humiliating as a day can get.” I turn to walk out, when suddenly I hear my name, and I cringe. I should’ve known Salem would get one last insult in before I go.

I whirl around. “If you tell anyone about this, I will murder you in cold blood.”

“Is that part of being a bad girl?”

“Oh, shut up,” I snap. “Did you just want to tell me that I’m pathetic?”

“No, not that. I mean, yes, also that.” He tries three times to shut his overstuffed drawer, and finally gives up and stands. “But I’ll help you anyway.”

“You.” I lean against the doorframe. “Why on earth would you help me?”

“Because I am dying to see what it looks like when a girl whose head is literally a ball of sunshine goes rogue.”

My hand immediately flies to my puffy bun of curls. “What is it with you Graysons and my hair?”

He drops onto his bed and picks up a lighter from his bedside table, tossing it from hand to hand as he ignores my question. “I will, however, need something in return.”

“Oh?”

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