Page 1 of Lovesick
Chapter One
Maggie
I watched one of my best friends descend the stairs of the Kappa Omega Epsilon sorority house we both lived in, admiring the luscious, full black locks, perfectly balanced makeup and the vibrant green dress she had on. Zoe looked incredible, and it was all due to our friend Abigail’s and my hard work getting her ready for the Mardi Gras masquerade.
It could have been my Mardi Gras masquerade too, but I already had plans. In fact, I had already had plans since I had left my hometown, Lafayette, to attend Tulane University School of Nursing. Every year, I went home for Mardi Gras and watched the much more family-friendly parade than the ones in New Orleans with my mother and grandmother.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend time with my family. I loved my family so much, and I dearly missed my two brothers who had both opted to join the military rather than attend college right out of high school, and my father, who worked offshore on an oil rig. I would see them all for Christmas, and I couldn’t wait to have everyone back together - even if it was only for a few days.
Just… Mardi Gras was a time to party. A time for hard-working college students to let loose and have some of the fun they turned down every week in order to study or do homework. I regretted - only a little - that I had to pass up partying with my friends for the tamer kind of fun I would have with my family.
Abigail and I wished Zoe a good time - and luck picking up men, of course; we didn’t choose that shade of lipstick for nothing - and then she was out the door. I glanced through the window just in time to see her step into a limo and ride off.
That could have been me.I allowed myself that last little complaint before accepting that I would have to settle for the still-enjoyable time with my family rather than some wild and exciting Mardi Gras evening.
Still, if I couldn’t be Zoe, at least I wasn’t Abigail. Abigail had to work this evening, and since she was a pianist at a bar in the French Quarter, she had to work late - not much chance of fun for her tonight. At least I would be out socializing. Socializing with my grandmother’s elderly friends, yes, but I mean…maybe they had cute grandsons or something.
I would find out soon. I shut the door and headed for the stairs, taking care not to slip on the wood floors in my socks. Abigail was still sitting on the couch, and she started to say something to me, but I overrode my friend as I jogged up the stairs. “Gotta get ready. I’m late!”
I shook my head at the mess of makeup and products scattered over the dresser and bed in the room Zoe, Abigail and I shared. I would have to gather those up and put them away before I left. And before a cap came loose and something meant to make women beautiful tried to do the same to my bed or rug.
For now, I ignored the mess and went straight for my school backpack. Heedlessly, I upended it over my bed. Papers, pens, pencils, a water bottle and a lot of medical textbooks tumbled out. Some of those books fell open, and I had to take valuable time to carefully smooth down the pages and stack them up.
I packed some clothes in my backpack - I wouldn’t need much, I was coming back to the Kappa Omega Epsilon sorority house tomorrow evening. One cute outfit, one comfy outfit, a couple extra things just in case…That should be enough.A bag of personal essentials joined the clothes. I stuffed a couple of pairs of socks, bras, and underwear into one of the side pockets.Yep, I’m ready to leave.
Almost. I couldn’t run out of the house to a Mardi Gras parade in shorts and a big floppy T-shirt.What to wear, what to wear…I slipped into a cute purple top in celebration of Mardi Gras and complimented it with a pair of tight dark blue jeans. Grabbing a hairbrush, a comb and a bottle of leave-in moisturizing conditioner, I headed to the bathroom down the hall to give my attire a look-see and deal with the slightly frizzy ends of my unruly hair.
I had a system for dealing with my hair when I was in a hurry but also wanted it to look presentable, so it didn’t take me long to feel happy about my dark curly locks. This outfit, though…
I knew the jeans were tight. They were skinny jeans - made to be that way - and I could feel that too, of course. They looked great from the front. But from the side…let’s just say the jeans looked and felt a little tighter than they should be in certain places. While working to finish my last rotations, reading up on various medical topics I needed to pass my nursing boards and trying to maintain some sort of social life, I hadn’t had much time to spare for physical activity or on meal planning.
It was the reading,I decided as I cupped a butt cheek with each hand and focused on the feeling of tight denim stretching to make room for them. Turn a page, eat a chip. It was almost a habit for me, just like chewing your nails or tapping your fingers. Eating while reading helped me stay awake and focus on what I was doing, but I had to admit my snacking hadn’t been as good for my butt as it was for my studies.
Coming into nursing school, I hadn’t realized - and no one else in my class did either - that nursing actually required quite a lot of reading and memorization. To start rotations and work with actual patients, we had to have a ton of preliminary knowledge. That meant several semesters of course work in subjects like anatomy, physiology, algebra, and pharmacology - just to name a few.
By the time we actually began our rotations and saw patients, we were practicing what we had learned but the studying was never-ending. To become a registered nurse we had to pass the nursing exam to get our license and mine was scheduled next month. So, I was always reading and rereading.
I had piles upon piles of books on different topics; some I toted around with me on campus, and some that I left here at the house and read during my spare time. I even kept one in the bathroom for a while when I was especially busy, so that I could catch a few paragraphs while I did my makeup or brushed out my hair.
I wonder what Momma will say.I knew my mother was so, so proud of me, but she also worried about me. She knew how busy I was and never failed to send some home-cooked meals with me after a visit. Tonight, when we met for the parade, she would give me a big, bone-crushing hug, hold me at arm’s length and then give me the evaluating once-over of a concerned mother.
Then she would probably give me a lecture about eating healthy and send me home with lots of veggies.Well…I could snack on asparagus and green beans just as well as chips, I guess.
Should I change? I could wear palazzo pants.Those were cute - and loose. But then, there was still this evening when I would change into comfortable clothes and tomorrow when I spent time with my family. I couldn’t choose my entire wardrobe around disguising the pounds I had put on.
It really isn’t that much.I consoled myself. Noticeable, but clearly college stress, not poor life choices or laziness. Certainly not enough for me to worry this deeply about what to wear.
Besides, I really didn’t have time to change. I needed to hurry up and get this butt I kept staring down at different angles in the mirror out the door.
I went back to my room, but I didn’t grab my backpack just yet. Sitting down at my desk - on the edge of the chair, as if sitting down fully would make it take longer to get up - I mapped my destination on my laptop. This was my hometown, and I had thoroughly explored it back in my high school days. But plans had changed a little. I was already too late to go home first, leave my car at my mom’s house and go with her and Grandma to the parade. So, I needed to find a place near the parade route where I could park.
After a few seconds of panning around, I located a hotel that would work perfectly. Most hotels wouldn’t care if parade-goers used their lot. Many of their guests would be attending the parade anyway, and they wouldn’t notice a few extra cars. I put the address into my phone, so it would be there in a few minutes when I opened my navigation app. Then I shut down my laptop and glanced around my room to check for anything I had forgotten to pack.
I snatched up my backpack and made it halfway out of the room before I slipped slightly on the wooden floors of the hallway. The reason that I could slip at all was that I was still wearing socks. No shoes. Just socks.
Ten seconds passed while I jammed my feet into a pair of sneakers that would be comfortable for walking. Not pausing to hoist the backpack back over my shoulders, I just grabbed it and rushed out of the room.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Abigail was watching - not very surprising, since my backpack had thumped against every single railing on the way down. “See you…?”
