Page 27 of Seeds of Friendship
So why does my chest feel hollow?
The house looks like a hurricane hit it. Solo cups everywhere. Someone's bra hanging from the Einstein poster. What appears to be an entire pizza stuck to the wall. How does that even happen?
But underneath the destruction, I can smell something amazing. Eggs. Bacon. Coffee.
I follow my nose to the kitchen where Troy, looking disgustingly functional, is manning the stove. And he's not alone.
There's a girl—not Jessica from last night—sitting at our disaster of a kitchen table, wearing one of his engineering shirts, laughing at something he's saying. She's got paint under her fingernails and a genuine smile, nothing like the party girls from last night. Where did he find her?
“Morning, sunshine,” Troy says, noticing me. “This is Sam. She's an art major. We met when she was sketching Einstein through the window at like 3 AM.”
“You were drawing our poster?” I ask.
Sam grins. “It looked so absurd with the bra hanging off it. Like a statement about the intersection of intellectualism and debauchery.”
Troy's looking at her like she hung the moon. “She's staying for breakfast. That cool?”
“Your house, man.”
But watching them—the easy way she steals bites off his plate, how he automatically refills her coffee without being asked, the inside jokes they've somehow already developed—something twists in my gut.
Ethan stumbles in wearing only boxers and one sock. “Food. Please. Dying.”
Troy passes him a sandwich without comment.
“Morning, lovebirds.” Ethan nods to Sam. “Freddie, saw your girl storm out earlier. She looked pissed.”
“Not my girl,” I say automatically.
“Egg sandwich?” Troy asks me without turning around.
“Yes, and I would marry you right now.”
“Get in line. I've had three proposals this morning alone.” He slides a plate across the counter.
“Where the fuck are my pants?” Ethan asks through a mouthful.
“Lawn,” I supply.
“What?”
“You declared pants were a construct of the patriarchy around 2 AM.”
“That... sounds like me.”
“Good night?” Troy waggles his eyebrows at me.
I take a massive bite, moaning at how good it tastes. “Brianna from my Business class was naked in my bed this morning. Then she shouted at me. So... yeah.”
Troy whistles. “The brunette? Nice. She seems cool. Could be something there.”
“There's nothing there,” I say automatically. “There never is. That's the point.”
“Must get lonely. I love being in love,” Ethan offers through his hangover.
“It's not lonely. It's uncomplicated.” I grab the egg sandwich, but it sits heavy in my stomach. “No one expecting shit I can't deliver. No one depending on me for their happiness. No one getting hurt when I inevitably have to choose my family over them.”
Troy and Sam are back in their bubble, him explaining something about structural engineering while she sketches on a napkin.
