Page 12 of Sweet Keeper

I'll hit him later for even suggesting that.

Scoffing, I reply, “Not in this lifetime.”

Ryder hums.

“You sure?”

“Yup. Bree was close to stabbing me last night because I asked her if I could copy from her exam today.” Ryder’s laugh echoes in the apartment. “And do you want to know the worst thing? She’s worse than me in the subject.”

Ryder breaks into hysterical laughter, almost howling. His face turns red, and he has to lie down on the couch to catch his breath. He sounds like a hyena, which is typically contagious, but I don’t find it funny at the moment.

“Oh my God,” he says once he's recovered. Ryder lets out a sigh that mixes with a whistle and wipes a few tears that escaped his eyes. “Haven't I taught you anything? If you want to pass a class, fuck the teacher or the TA. You don't go around asking people if you can copy from them.”

The worse thing about his advice is that I don't doubt for a second that he has done it before. He's completely capable of being able to talk from experience.

“I learned that the hard way,” I mumble.

He shakes his head.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that your Bree put Carter in his place publicly?” Ryder asks, trying to lift my mood.

I tilt my head.

“First of all, she’s notmy Bree. And I don’t think that’s going to make me feel any better. He probably deserved it.”

“Yeah, he did. The dumbass said that the only reason she won was that she got lucky when it's obvious that she has a good aim. Better than he does. Actually, why don't we kick him out of the team and put her instead?”

“Because she’d kill me instead,” I remind him.

I don't know her a lot—or at all—, but I've seen that she's reckless. I can perfectly picture the way her face must've transformed as she turned into a little devil, making him go through a humiliating hell for even trying to suggest that.

“Carter's a sore loser,” I comment.

“What's her full name?” Ryder asks out of nowhere.

I frown.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I'm building an altar for her right here in the middle of the living room, and I'm going to slaughter virgins in her name,” he says, sarcasm spilling in his words. “Because I want to look her up on social media, Sherlock.”

I find it weird that he wants to do that, but Ryder does random stuff. Especially when it comes to girls. Once he had a fling with a girl that was into role-play in sex, and I saw him dressed as a cowboy and a cop during a whole weekend.

I don't doubt for a second that he's going to try to get into her pants. If he wants to, I wish him luck because that girl is the devil, and she's capable of eating him alive.

Chapter Four

Ispend the whole Friday focused on finishing a project for my photography class. I don’t even abandon my room—only to grab an occasional snack—because I don’t have self-control, and I will talk for hours and never finish this assignment before the due date. Thankfully, I haven’t encountered my housemates, and I’ve had the chance to put my fingers to write the analytic essay of the photographs that professor Meyer sent us.

For this reason, and only for this one, I’m glad that we have different schedules. Typically we see each other on campus, but Fridays are busier for them. Cora has to go to the ballet academy, where she dances most of the day. Ash usually has photo shoots scheduled, and Karma spends the day at her studio trying to make the most of it.

I’m determined to end this so I can have the full weekend for myself. After the rough week that I experienced, I sure need to take some time off to process everything. Starting with the fact that I spent the first days trying to absorb the chemistry book—only to end up failing the test—, the Stanley argument that still has me bitter, and the deception of getting a confirmation that guys are assholes. My taste for men hasn’t evolved at all. Apparently, it has gotten worse over the years.

I think that I’ve been grateful for not hanging out with the girls this week because I’d tell them everything, and that will take a toll on me. The alcohol-involved kind of toll. This weekend I’m going to needat leasta bottle of wine because I plan to drink until I forget everything that happened this week. This is why I need to finish the essay before I gather my friends and drag them along to this wild ride.

A girl’s night is precisely what I need to wash away the frustrations from the past couple of days. Part of me already fears that I may do something stupid that I’ll end up regretting tomorrow, but I can’t care enough to put a stop to the plans for tonight.

There will be no harm as long as I don’t leave the apartment.

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