Page 84 of Fighting Spirit

“She’s ditching me,” Charlie adds with a chuckle, nudging her playfully in the side.

“It’s a girl’s thing!” Steph giggles.

“A girl’s thing?”

She looks down at me like she’s just remembering my presence. “Oh, yeah.” Her voice is all forced levity. “Just from class, it’s no big thing.”

“Econ?” I ask.

“Uh, yeah.”

I’m in her Econ class.

I try to play it off, but I must not be as good an actor as I thought because Steph starts shuffling from foot to foot, awkwardly mumbling, “Georgie couldn’t make it so we figured you wouldn’t want to…”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” I wave her away, trying not to sound hysterical. “I better get going too, but this was fun! We should do it again!” I’m stuffing books into my bag, uncaring that the corners are getting all bashed up in my attempts to get out of that room as fast as possible.

I probably knock into half the people in the library during my exit, but I barely notice. I’m just trying to get into the fresh air before the sting of tears threatens to bubble over.

I hate this about myself, how I react to even the slightest hint of rejection. Somebody could walk past an open seat next to me on the bus, and I’d spend the rest of the ride building an exhaustive list of everything about me they found so repugnant.

When I shut the apartment door behind me, I see Georgie sprawled out on the couch, head tucked into some bodice-ripper historical romance. “Hi, sweetie, " she calls without looking up. “There’s risotto on the counter if you want some.”

I look over to see the dish, my stomach suddenly growling. Next to the sink is a half-empty bowl with a chopped-up bell pepper that she’s mixed into her own portion.

God, I love her.

“You wanna watch more of that show?” she asks, setting her book down. We started some grisly true crime documentary last night, but given how much of it we spent with me talking about Rowan, and her squealing every eight seconds, we might have to restart.

I get myself a bowl and head over to the couch. Georgie grabs one of the thousand throw blankets she has around the apartment and spreads it across both of our laps.

“Does Steph hate me?” I ask halfway through the episode. The question’s been gnawing at me since the library, and I can’t let it go.

“What?” She pauses the show, giving me her full attention.

“Does Steph hate me?”

“What happened?”

“You’re not answering my question.” Her evasiveness is making me itch.

“Of course she doesn’t hate you. Why are you saying that?”

“I don’t know.” I cover my face with my forearms. “I just had a weird run-in with her today.”

“I can’t help you until you tell me what happened.” She pulls my hands away, revealing my cringe.

I fill her in on the encounter with Steph, how she’d written me off as ‘Georgie’s Roommate’ and everything that came after.

Georgie looks pensive, taking a minute to chew on her answer. I feel like I’m not going to like it.

Before she can speak, the buzzer goes off, both of us jolting at the noise. Georgie moves, pushing my feet off her lap as she goes to answer. As she listens to whoever’s at the other end of the intercom, her face morphs into a Cheshire Cat smile. “It’s your boyfriend,” she whisper-yells, dancing from foot to foot in excitement.

I straighten, almost tipping my bowl onto the carpet. “What is he doing here?” I hiss back.

She shrugs at me, all wide eyes as she hits the button to buzz him in. “Ask him yourself, he’s your man.”

Holy shit. Okay, yeah, Rowan’s downstairs. Although he’s probably halfway up by now. I glance down at my outfit and try to smooth my hair down a little.

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