Page 3 of Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven
“Random question,” she says as she takes a seat on the edge of my bed.
I still haven’t responded, and as much as I’ve tried to not engage, I can’t help but let a small smile tilt at my lips. She reminds me of Bethany in a way. It hurts, but it’s soothing at the same time. An odd combination of emotions swirl in my stomach as she continues.
“What is your take on edible underwear?”
I push up from the bed, staring at her expression to see if this is a joke.She’s dead serious.
I attempt to keep my face neutral. “Can’t say I’ve indulged in a good thong lately. I may not be the person to ask.”
She tips her head back on a laugh, her hand coming to her chest. “I didn’t mean have you actually eaten any. I meant like wearing some, you know, for sexy time.” She wags her eyebrows.
I haven’t indulged in that in a long time either.Another tragedy.
“Again, I’m probably not the person to ask.” I reach for my phone.
“Fine. I’ll just have to gather input from the internet.” She swings her legs off of my comforter. “You want Chinese?”
I blink, as she smiles, waiting for my response like a puppy waiting to fetch a frisbee. It’s obviously moot to try to isolate myself in this condo. And even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I concede.
What do they say? If you can’t beat em, join em?
“Sounds great.”
Fifteen minutes later we are shoved into a small corner booth at Chang’s, a little Chinese restaurant just down from campus. We’ve already ordered and are sipping on drinks when I get a text from my father.
Arthur: I’ve spoken with the Dean. Know he’s watching.
I exit out of the thread and place my phone on the table as a bowl of noodles are sat in front of me.
“Enjoy.” The waitress nods.
“Parental unit?” She asks.
“How could you tell?”
She shrugs. “It was the eye roll. The tight shoulders. The silent murmur ofassholeyou just did.”
Did I?
I snicker. “What’s your major? Behavioral science?”
“Accounting," she says flippantly.
Not expecting that.
“Obviously not by choice," she adds, stabbing her fork in her plethora of noodles a little too hard. “Are you lucky like me? Are your parent’s forcing you into a career you hate?”
“Not exactly. But I was forced here against my will, so same thing.”
“Forced, why?” She asks.
“My best friend died.”
Presley spews her drink from her mouth, coughing into her palm. “Jesus, Raven.”
“You asked.” I shrug.
“I’m sorry. Your best friend? When did she pass?” She picks up a napkin, dabbing her lips.
