Page 14 of The Riley Effect

I’m currently losing another one-on-one game with my closet. I scan where my pants hang for what feels like the hundredth time, hoping something new will appear. This time it’s because Jalen won’t tell me what we are doing tonight. And even though I’m not too keen on going on this date, it doesn’t mean I don’t want to look hot.

“What the fuck am I supposed to wear!” I scream into my closet. I hear Indy and Lola before I see them. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out how I got myself into this situation again.

My roommates make it look effortless as they pick through my closet, mixing and matching pieces like they have some kind of roommate telepathy that I didn’t get clued in on.

Now that we have started our respective seasons, Jalen only comes to the shelter once a week, and the conversations are always easy. If anyone asks, I’d deny it, but I am really starting to enjoy my time with him. He talks about his parents often and his hopes to get drafted to New York so he can be close to them. I know Byron is his best friend from home, and they chose Westvale University to play three more years of hockey together. Even with the one-on-one time I’ve spent with Jalen, a part of me questions if it’s all an act, so I’ll give a good report back to his uncle.

“What are you guys doing tonight?” Lola asks me. She’s now moved on from my closet and is digging through my dresser.

“My answer is no different than the other seventeen times you have asked that question this week. He won’t tell me what he has planned.” I grip my bed sheets.

I’m trying to let loose and have fun like everyone wants me to, but my anxiety has me wanting to be in control. I hate surprises.

“Let’s do something casual but not jeans and a tee casual.” It’s Indy’s turn now to examine my closet. She pulls out four different pairs of pants with different distinct patterns on them. We have dubbed these fun pants “party pants,” and my roommates and I share a collection.

From the pile, Lola picks out black boyfriend-fit pants that have silver stars on them. “These with your baby blue bodysuit would be beautiful.” She assures me with a smile so sincere I have to just believe her.

“Wear your Retro Silver Toe Jordans,” Indy chimes in. I love that they know that I’m going to want to wear a pair of sneakers tonight. I grab the outfit my roommates patiently picked out and head to our shared bathroom down the hall.

An hour later, freshly showered, I come into the living room with my hair straightened and makeup done. The outfit Lola and Indy picked is perfect. I feel confident in it, and half the battle of feeling good is looking good, and my girls made sure I did.

I head to the kitchen and pour us each a tequila shot. Indy smirks in my direction. “What? I need this, and I know y’all aren’t going to make me drink alone.”

“It’s not that,” Lola says earnestly, “You just look so beautiful.”

Lola is the emotional one of our little trio, even if she’ll never admit it. The girl takes every sentimental moment and tucks it away for when the time comes to relive the glory days. So I knowwhen she says I look beautiful, she really wants to say that this is a moment that we are all going to want to remember.

I smile at my friends and lift my glass in the air.

“Take the shot. Jalen will be here any minute.”

The tequila hasn’t finished warming my throat when the doorbell rings. I take a deep breath and turn toward my roommates.

“Let’s get this over with.”

9

Jalen

I’ve been waiting at Ivy’s front door for what feels like forever. After standing on her front porch and knocking a couple of times, I text her that I’m here.

But a couple of minutes later, I’m still standing in the cool New York air, watching a beautiful sunset that mimics the changing leaves. As beautiful as it is, I can’t really enjoy it because I’m nervous that I’m about to be stood up.

I start swaying back and forth, a nervous tendency I picked from my Mom. Ivy hasn’t shown much interest in me or our date. She told Marcus that she only made that counterbet because she was drunk, and she tends to do regrettable thingswhen she’s had too much to drink. So now I have this sinking feeling that she has axed our date but forgot to tell me.

Watching Ivy at the shelter last week just reinforced all the amazing things I’ve heard about her. I’ve watched her care for each dog with such patience and grace. She knew which dogs needed snuggles before being brought to their beds and which ones needed time to decompress alone. She did it all with a smile so contagious that whenever I think about that day, I can’t help but smile to myself.

The guilt of forcing this date on her has been eating away at me. The only reason I know how amazing this girl is, is that I wanted to prove to everyone I could get a date with the woman who never goes on them. Like it would add some kind of stamp to my man card. However, the more I get to know her, the more I want to peel all her layers away, get to know the real Ivy and let Ivy get to know the real me.

We’ve texted a little throughout the week, but I decided I wanted to get to know Ivy the old-school way, not through texts and Instagram stalking. I want to see how her face lights up when I ask her about the shelter or hear how she wheezes when she tries to catch her breath after laughing too hard. Some things are better in person, and talking with Ivy Rhodes is one of them.

I’m so lost in my own thoughts I don’t notice when the door opens. “What the hell,” I say under my breath when she taps me on the arm.

“Oh, I thought you were waiting in the car,” she’s less than amused to see me. “When you texted me here, I just assumed you hadn’t gotten out.”

I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips, thinking about how disappointed my Mom would be if she heard that I didn’t pick up my dates at the door. I might not go on many of them, but I was taught to date like a Southern gentleman.

I wanted tonight to be worth the time away from school and basketball for her, so I picked Indy’s brain on everything to do with Ivy whenever she was at our house this week. Was Marcus happy about it? No, but now Indy realizes how serious I am about getting to know her best friend. That this isn’t some kind of game to me.

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