Page 325 of 6+ Us Makes Eight (Baby Makes Three)

I smelled marijuana and cheap wine coming off her clothes and out of her mouth. As she stared into my eyes in a threatening manner, I decided to move out the next morning, no matter what it took.

“Let’s go guys. We’ll party on campus. My roommate’s being annoyin

g.”

She broke eye contact with me and stumbled toward the door. The others followed. When they were all finally outside, I twisted the latch.

I hoped she wouldn’t come back, at least not that night. As I surveyed the damage they’d done to the apartment, I took a deep breath.

I’d take care of it in the morning.

While tempting, it was still early, and I wouldn’t be able to study with the living room still trashed. I walked over to my recliner and saw someone had spilled wine on it.

“Shit!” I screamed.

A guy who had been laying behind it, out of view, sat up and glanced around with a look of confusion on his face.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked.

“Oh, hey. I’m Timbo. Where’s Jocelyn at?”

“Get out of my apartment! Now!”

He grabbed the arm of the recliner and got to his feet. I stood a few feet away, hands angrily crossed over my chest. I watched as he left.

After locking the door behind him, I made a sweep of the house, looking for any other stragglers. Even though I hadn’t found anyone, I still got even angrier.

She was nuts. I was leaving tomorrow no matter what.

I left the mess for her to clean up and retreated to my room. Studying was the last thing I wanted to be doing, but I had to keep my grades up.

To pay for my own room, I might have to work extra hours, which would mean less time for studying in the future. Better to be ahead, I reasoned.

Did Austin worry about the same things as me? Or had life always handed him everything he wanted on a silver platter? The way he acted sometimes, I wondered.

I pushed him out of my thoughts and hit the books hard. Later that evening, as I laid in bed, I imagined what it would be like to have Austin as a husband.

Would being the wife of a sports star make my own dreams less relevant? Couldn’t he play professional football while I studied to get my advanced Doctor of Nursing Practice degree?

Reality, thankfully, slipped away and dreams entertained and enlightened me the rest of the night. In them, Austin played a huge role, the hero and the villain at the same time.

* * *

I woke the next morning to the sound of someone banging on the door. If that was Jocelyn, I was going to kill her, I thought as I threw back my covers.

They banged again, more insistently.

“I’m coming!” I yelled, never a morning person.

When I flung the door open, ready to yell at my so-called roommate, I froze at the sight of a campus cop.

“Are you Brooke Harrison?” he asked, pen poised above a pad of paper.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Where were you two nights ago?”

“I’m no law major, but if I’m not under arrest, I don’t think you have a right to ask me that question.”

---