Page 2 of Fall From Grace
I’m remarkably calm and collected as I make a post on MSU’s general page, asking if there’s anyone still looking for a roomie off-campus. Like hell am I going to move into a dorm room with Meghan again.
God. The two people you think you can trust, betraying you behind your back for over two years. A knife in my back doesn’t cut it. It’s like they went straight to my soul and tore it into pieces.
At the time, I don’t really have much hope. I don’t think I’ll get many real answers. By now, with less than two weeks left until the fall semester starts, everybody probably has their housing situation set in stone, but I just can’t imagine living with my ex-best friend for a whole year. Not again. Not after this.
As night falls, I wait until my parents are in bed before I let myself cry.
Chapter Two – Wren
It’s strange to me, how people are supposed to go on with their lives as if they haven’t just experienced the worst thing ever. It makes you wonder what kind of pain everybody you pass on the sidewalk is hiding. I can’t be the only one with a messed-up life.
No boyfriend, and now no friends.
Dating long-term in high school meant I pulled back from most friendships—only because I didn’t have time for them, since I spent most of my time with Mike. Meghan lived just down the street, so it was easy to keep hanging out with her. I never thought…
No, I can’t keep thinking about them. It’s driving me insane.
Today marks a week from the start of fall semester, and I’m meeting with someone on campus, a girl who says she has a house two minutes off-campus and can use a roomie. She’s my age, nineteen, another sophomore at MSU. Sloane Karnagy.
I meet her at the student union, a large building pretty much smack-dab in the middle of campus. She’s already sitting at one of the tables in the dining section of the wide-open first floor, sipping on a coffee and staring out of the nearby windows. Even though fall semester hasn’t started yet, there are still people flitting about; you’d be surprised at how many.
When I spot her, I make a beeline for her and take the seat opposite her, saying a quiet, “Hi.”
Sloane turns her head toward me, her green eyes bright and vivid as she studies me. She’s pretty; beautiful, even. Long, blond hair, with bone structure I’d kill for. Her style is not like mine; while I wear an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans, she wears a tight white blouse and leggings. If I have to guess, I’d say she’s more like the popular girls in high school, whereas I was the quiet girl in class who never really said much.
“Hey,” she says, sounding much cooler than me already. “Wren?” When I nod, she goes on, “I’m Sloane.”
All I do is nod again. God, I hate how awkward I feel. I’m not used to being outgoing, meeting and talking with new people. Obviously, I lived a sheltered life in my little bubble, oblivious to the two most important people screwing behind my back.
She chuckles. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Oh, um… I do, it’s just—” Just that I only talk around people who are close to me? That I’m an introvert? That I don’t do this stuff, ever? Take your pick. “It’s complicated.”
I can’t read her expression as she studies me. “I get that.”
No, there’s no possible way she does.
“So, complicated Wren, you’re looking for housing?” she asks before she takes a small sip from her coffee.
“Yes. I mean, I have a dorm room set up for next year, but… I can’t live with my old roomie anymore. I know it’s last-minute, but I’m really hoping to find somewhere else to live.” I bite my bottom lip as I fiddle with my hands on my lap.
She cocks her head at me. “Sounds like a long story. Care to share with the class?”
I haven’t told my parents exactly why we broke up. If I tell this girl, this stranger, the truth… it’d be the first time I’ve spoken it out loud. Swallowing hard, I decide to rip the bandage off quickly and just say it: “I caught my best friend and my boyfriend together. Myex-best friend. I was going to room with her again, but I just can’t.”
“Shit,” Sloane mutters with a frown. “That’s no friend. How long were you and the asshole together?”
Out of habit, I want to defend Mike. How pathetic is that? “About four years.”
“Fuck, that really sucks. They’re both rotten.”
Rotten. What a weird word to say, and yet I can’t argue with her; it suits them perfectly.
I muster up the courage to say, “I know it’s last-minute, but if you have a freaking broom closet, I’ll take it. Anything to get me out of that dorm room.”
“No broom closets, but I do have a spare bedroom you can take.”
I glance around, making it a point to notice she’s here, alone. “Your other roomies won’t mind?”
