Page 11 of The Casualty of Us
“Yeah, yeah.” He reaches out, opening the door for me. “Whatever you say, baby sister.”
The sight of several guys hanging around in the hallway with their doors open has inspiration striking because I’m not about to pass up the opportunity to be a pest.
I wiggle my fingers at him while crossing over the threshold before shouting back loudly, “À plus tard,Ollie!” Tossing some French his way since I know he doesn’t understand it despite my tutoring attempts. “Have fun with the roommates!”
And it takes him a minute to recover, but he comes back swinging just like I knew he would, “You too,Ophelia!” Hopefully easing his worries too. “I’ll miss you,babysister!”
I grin.
Touché, big brother. Touché.
Chapter Three
OPHELIA - AUGUST 2012
I stareat the door clearly labeled 427 by way of the pretty metal numbers screwed into it. Some kind of upbeat pop music coming from another dorm not too far down the hallway with its door propped open. The idea of lingering outside for another couple of minutes tempting me but ultimately, I don’t want to risk anyone happening upon me just standing out here either. The common room downstairs was already teeming with people my second time through it and that was bad enough.
“Deep breath,” I order myself. “Don’t be a coward.”
Quickly following through with both things and swiping my keycard against the pad on the door, a faint click comes as the lock disengages, and I grab the handle to push it open. Stepping into a dorm that’s pretty much exactly like my brother’s, only slightly smaller, but it has the same cream-colored walls and dark wood floors with the kitchen sitting on my right. A small island stands in front of the fridge and microwave setup there, both of which have some nice-looking cabinets built in around them.
The living room lies pretty much directly in front of me, with two big leather armchairs and a love seat situated between them. A flat-screen is already mounted to the wall and myroommate must already be here too because there are traces of her scattered around, like a chunky knit blanket hanging off the back of one of the chairs and a tiny projector on the coffee table.
Dammit.
I move my eyes between the two doors on opposite sides of the living room, debating for another second before letting go of the one behind me. Not doing anything to stop it from closing loudly. I take a few more steps into the dorm, coming to a slow stop in the living room when the door on my right suddenly opens and a tall blonde walks out holding a pair of tennis shoes in her hand.
“Oh.” She halts midstep, running her eyes over me, and I take full advantage of doing the same. Quickly noting the black leggings and loose pink workout shirt she’s wearing along with the high ponytail, the features on her face make me think of that ice princess from that new movie—
“Hi.” She gives me a little wave. “I’m Marley, and sorry, but I’m not a hugger.”
I snort softly at that, immediately warming enough to grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not a hugger either.” Bracing myself for the giveaway regardless, I force my lips to stay up while telling her, “I’m Ophelia, but you can call me O.”
Her eyes move over my face again, brows pinching together before sudden recognition flashes there. “Oh.” She nods quickly. “Cool, cool.” Her gaze drifts away to move around the room, and I can practically see the wheels in her brain spinning. “Right, so uh, O.” She looks back at me. “I can do that.”
“Cool,” I echo, blowing out a breath while walking over to one of the chairs and dropping my backpack beside it. “So where are you from?”
Trying for conversation since I am going to be living with this girl.
“Georgia.” She trails after me, sitting down on the love seat after a beat and starting to pull on her tennis shoes. “My mother is annoyingly old school, Southern debutante and all that shit.” Her shoulders lift with a halfhearted shrug. “She went to Pinecrest, so there was really no other option for me.” She pauses in lacing up her shoes, staring at me. “Would you like me to pretend I don’t know who you are or where you’re from to make this more natural or…”
“Ha!” A laugh escapes me at her straightforward demeanor, and I quickly add. “You’re good.” I collapse into the chair and twist just enough to throw my legs over the arm while adding, “Just don’t ask for the nitty-gritty details or sell pictures of me in my sleep, and we’ll be good.”
“Got it.” She smirks. “No pictures in your sleep, I can do that.”
I grin back and try to keep the judgment from my voice while questioning. “So are you like…a gymnast or something?”
Really hoping she’s not a cheerleader considering that the ones in high school weren’t exactly a great experience. Ollie has always been more naturally popular, leaving me in a weird space of people either not knowing what to do with me or just being plain rude sometimes.
“Nope.” An amused sound leaves her. “Too tall for all that, I play soccer.”
“Soccer.” The word leaves me with a breath of relief, and she lifts her brows at me questioningly. “Soccer’s great,” I try again. “Sports aren’t really my thing—more so my brother’s—but I at least know enough about soccer to understand what you’re talking about.”
“Good to know.” She giggles, standing up and nodding to the front door. “I was about to head over to check out the athletic center if you want to come?”
“Sorry, I think I’ll have to pass.” I wave her off quickly. “Just so much unpacking to do.”
“Right,” she drags out disbelievingly, shaking her head. “Well, I can pick up dinner from the mess hall for us on the way back if you want. We could eat together here.”
