Page 59 of Playing By Their Rules

I slide my hangers back and forth, searching. Where’s the skirt? Grumbling under my breath, I rummage around in my clothes hamper. It isn’t there, either. If Mina freaking borrowed my clothes again without asking, I am going to lose it.

I can actually feel the scowl twisting my mouth as I walk across the hall to her door. I twist the handle and push…

…but the door doesn’t open.

She locked it? That’s weird. And aggravating. If the skirt isn’t in my closet or dirty laundry, I’m certain she took it.

I wait up for her to return home, but after a couple of hours, she still isn’t here. My annoyance has mellowed out, so I go to bed. I can ask her about it tomorrow.

* * *

Maisie

The next morning, I emerge from my room to see Mina stuffing fruits and spinach into the blender. “Want a smoothie?” she asks.

“Sure.”

“So, I have a proposal.” She winks. “I checked our schedules and neither of us has work for the next couple of nights. What do you say we play hooky and head to Clear Springs, check out the old cabin together?”

“But…classes,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “We’re grad students. We got this locked down.”

“Well, I can’t, anyway. I have a date with Chance and Ethan tonight.”

She pushes the button on the blender and our kitchen is filled with the roar for a full minute. As soon as it’s over, she pours two glasses and hands me one.

“A date, huh? With both? Don’t you think that will look weird?”

“Nope, not weird.” I don’t have the energy for this. “Anyway, I’m busy tonight. Rain check on visiting the cabin? And what do you want to do there, anyway?”

“I don’t know…just look around. Lots of memories there, and I like to visit it sometimes. It’s the first place I felt safe, you know?”

“Yeah.” I take a sip of the smoothie and enjoy the burst of sugar fruit taste over my tongue. “Oh, question for you…since when did you start locking your bedroom door?”

She gives me a suspicious look. “I always have.”

I don’t remember it ever being locked, but I also don’t recall ever wanting to get in there when she wasn’t home. As soon as we signed the lease on this place, I told Mina that if we were going to live together, I expected her to respect my bedroom privacy and I would respect hers.

“Did you need something?” she asks.

“I’m looking for my plaid skirt.”

In a snappy voice, she says, “Well, I don’t have it.”

“Okay.”

She doesn’t need to sound so defensive. I take another sip of my smoothie, feeling awkward and hating that I feel awkward. Mina and I have always gotten along, other than mild, petty disagreements about her using my shit.

While I don’t love confrontation, I hate beating around the bush. “Mina, would you just tell me what’s going on?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Well, try me.”

“Those two professors shouldn’t be with you,” Mina says, bright spots of color at the tops of her cheeks. “It’s wrong, unethical. They—they’re your teachers, Maisie. It’s an abuse of power.”

I try to shove down the flare of anger that rises up when she says it’s unethical and wrong. My guys have done everything in their power to do what’s morally right. “They aren’t my teachers anymore. Relax, Mina.”

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