Home > Mayhem (Mayhem #1)(9)

Mayhem (Mayhem #1)(9)
Author: Jamie Shaw

Macy nods from where she’s standing awkwardly in the center of the room, pinching the hem of her T-shirt. “Okay. It was nice to meet you, Rowan.”

“Thanks for letting me stay here, Macy. You’re the best.”

Her smile is the facial equivalent of jumping for joy, and it makes me smile back. She finds her way back to her glowing desktop computer, and Dee and I lie on the bed trying not to immediately pass out.

“You need to get out of your stripper heels,” I tell her.

Dee groans and throws her leg up over the bed, plopping her foot down right on my stomach. I oomph and then start laughing. I unbuckle her shoe and then she throws the other leg on top of me and I unbuckle that one too. She doesn’t even bother changing clothes before we both crawl under the covers. She reaches over to turn off her bedside lamp, and then we’re out like lights.

Chapter Four

THE PAIN IN my head this morning reminds me of last night first thing. I groan and shift in the bed, and then Dee groans and shifts too. And then we’re both just lying there trying to out-groan each other until we giggle like goofballs and I smack a pillow over her face.

“You . . . bitch . . .” she groans without any conviction.

“What time is it?” I groan back. The room is filled with light, making me squeeze my eyes shut even tighter.

She fumbles around for her phone, knocking it off of her nightstand and then scooping it off the floor. “Noon. Why the hell are we up already?”

“Because we need aspirin and coffee and bacon.”

After a long pause, she finally says, “Okay. Get up and get dressed.”

“You first.”

And then we both fall back asleep.

I wake up half an hour later, and even though I really don’t want to, I actually crawl out of bed this time. “Where’s the shower?” I ask, pushing my finger into Dee’s forehead.

She swats my hand away. “Down the hall and to the right. Take my tote with you. It’s by the door.”

After a quick shower, I come back to Dee’s room positively starving. She snatches the tote from my hand and then takes her own shower as I try to find my brush and hair dryer and makeup in the pile of crap we tossed on the floor last night. I root through suitcases and over-stuffed trash bags and other misfit luggage. By the time she gets back, I’ve only just found everything I was looking for. We end up competing for mirror space in front of her vanity as we get ready, and the bickering actually makes me feel a little better.

Dee had pleaded with me to room with her when we decided to go to school in Virginia, but was graciously understanding when I explained that I really wanted to live off campus with Brady.

Hah! Yeah, right.

She had guilt-tripped me for a month, ignored me for a week, and then tried to turn my own parents against me. She never liked Brady, and I never understood why. But maybe her intuition is just better than mine. I guess it’s got to be, because I’ve been absolutely clueless.

“Hey.” She bumps her shoulder against mine when she catches my reflection frowning, dangerously close to tearing up. “Don’t. Not one more tear for him, Ro.”

I take a deep, shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Has he sent you any messages since last night?”

“Yeah.” When I checked my phone while Dee was in the shower, I saw that I had one missed call and one missed text from him. He didn’t leave a voicemail. I hand Dee my phone so she can read the text.

Sry I missed your txts, baby. It was a late night. Tried calling u this morning but I guess you’re sleeping in. Be home in afew hours to kiss u awake. Love u more.

Dee makes gagging noises, but I can’t even crack a smile. He sounds just like the Brady I knew, the Brady I fell in love with.

Did I ever really know him at all?

Dee snatches the hairbrush from my hand to prevent me from running it through my wavy blonde locks for the hundredth time. “Okay, let’s get you the hell out of here.”

We’re halfway to her car when I ask, “Don’t you have a cafeteria on campus?”

“Yes . . .”

“Then why are we walking to your car?”

Her shifty eyes aren’t fooling me at all. “I thought maybe we could stop by your apartment . . .” she confesses. “Throw some of Brady’s clothes on the lawn. Break some of his shit. I wasn’t thinking clearly last night when we just got your stuff and left.”

I shake my head. “No, Dee.”

“Why not? Ro, he deserves so much worse than that. And maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“It won’t. When he comes home and has no idea why I left, that will make me feel better.”

Dee gives me a skeptical look, but as if on cue, my phone starts vibrating. I lift it up, showing her that Brady is calling. “See? Better already.”

“Don’t you dare answer that.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” I decline the call and stuff the phone back into the side pouch of my purse. It’s silent long enough for us to get to Dee’s car, and then it starts vibrating again. I pull it out and turn it off completely.

“Did he leave you a voicemail?” Dee asks.

“Not yet. But he will.”

She nods as we both hop inside of her plum-purple Civic. “I still say we should’ve broken some of his shit.”

I shrug. “Then he’d be under the impression I care.”

“But you do care . . .”

   
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