My Best Friend's Ex_A New Adult College Romance Read online

  I closed the door behind her and let out the biggest sigh of my life, convinced I hadn’t taken a regular breath since she stepped foot in my room. Then I collapsed on the bed and wedged my hands under my head, staring at the water-marked ceiling as I listened to the muffled music thumping through the floor. It was strangely hypnotic after a while, so I closed my eyes and wondered what Zoey saw when she disappeared into herself like that.

  I would’ve passed out in that exact position, too, if a text hadn’t buzzed against my back pocket, rousing me from my shallow slumber as soon as I read it.

  I wouldn’t have chosen you for a brother either.

  F I F T E E N

  - Zoey -

  He still hadn’t answered the text a week later.

  Not that that kept me from staring at it.

  Should I not have sent it? I certainly wouldn’t have if I’d known he was going to become a stranger again overnight. Then again, he’d always been strange. Which begged the question, why send it in the first place?

  To be flirtatious? To make him feel better about saying it first?

  Wait- what if he never got it? Oh my god, that was totally it. I was worrying over nothing. It was so obvious now. He wouldn’t blow me off like that.

  Not that I should care if the most off-limits guy on campus blew me off?! Ugh.

  I pulled my pencil from my mouth and noticed the woody taste remained. Glancing at it, I saw that it was covered in bite marks. Great. I set it in the pages of my Anthro book, which was not nearly as gripping as I hoped it would be, and looked out the window.

  Nina was outside in a crop top and a chunky cardigan talking to some guy who lived in our building. I recognized him from the cafeteria, and as he leaned in to hang on her every word, I suddenly understood why he’d been running into us at the ice cream machine all week.

  Which reminded me, I really shouldn’t be eating ice cream every day. I’d heard enough stories about the freshman fifteen to know the mythical beast wasn’t very hard to catch.

  I stared back at my book and stuck a bare foot up on one of my half-open desk drawers. I should text him. Gauge the waters. See if he even got my weird message.

  Before I could lose my nerve, I shot off a quick text and leaned back in my chair, knowing it would be practically impossible to study until I heard from him. Not that my brain-deadness was entirely his fault. My first two weeks’ worth of college knowledge bombs had me feeling more mentally fried than I wanted to admit.

  What if I wasn’t cut out for this? Maybe I should’ve gone to the community college by my house and helped my mom out with the kids.

  I picked up my phone and eyed the screen again. “Wanna hang?”

  Seemed innocent enough. Then again, that was my big problem. I didn’t want to be innocent anymore. I didn’t want to be the ticklish girl that didn’t know the meaning of any of the phrases in Cards Against Humanity.

  I wanted college guys to look at me the way they looked at Nina and Piper. Like they were trying to picture me naked riding their dick.

  Okay, no. Just the naked bit. After all, I was still a virgin. Surely there were more steps than I even realized between getting pictured naked and dick rodeo.

  Five minutes later, my phone buzzed, interrupting the visual image that had me paralyzed.

  “Can’t. I’ve got a thing.”

  I knew it! He totally didn’t even get that other text. He would’ve answered right away. Not that I had any reason to be happy. He was still obviously blowing me off. What was I expecting, though? For us to become bosom buddies all of a sudden? He was obviously just trying to do the right thing by being extra welcoming last week.

  I should take a hint. And definitely not ask about the thing since he didn’t say it like he was eager to invite more questions. Except it was almost impossible to decipher a person’s tone in a text…

  “Happy Hour Saturday?” he asked.

  I stared at the message, wondering how long I should wait to accept the invite when Piper’s face popped up on my phone. “Hey!” I said, hoping excessive joviality would knock me off my previous train of thought.

  “Why do you sound so cheerful?” she asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be missing me terribly?”

  “I am, I am.” I glanced up at the picture on my desk of us hugging cheek to cheek at her eleventh birthday party. We were both sporting hot-pink sweatbands on our heads and, as it was tennis themed, everyone wore white. My favorite part, though, was that instead of one big cake, her parents served individual cupcakes decorated to look like tennis balls. “I’m gazing at your picture right now.”

  “That’s better.”

  “My roommate’s awful, too.”

  “Oh no. Really?”

  “No. Not really.” I glanced out the window. Another boy had sidled up to admire Nina, and her hair was almost blindingly shiny in the sunlight. “I don’t know why I said that. She’s actually pretty awesome.”

  “Good. I mean, I’m super jealous but happy for you, obviously.”

  “I’m more relieved than happy myself.”

  “I’m not surprised. We brainstormed some pretty hideous worst-case scenarios over the summer.”

  “I know, but in hindsight, a vampire wouldn’t have been so bad,” I said. “It’d be nice to have someone around that had already read all my books.”

  “And done all your homework.”

  “What’s Beth like?” I asked.

  “Another time.”

  “Is she there right now?”

  “Only every second,” she said, sounding as if she were forcing a smile.

  “Oh dear. In a bad way?”

  “Let’s see…”

  I crossed my legs and straightened up in my chair.

  “Remember when your brother had that snake?”

  “Porky the Python? Gosh, I haven’t thought about him in ages.”

  “Yeah, well. I wish I could say the same.”

  “What does that even mean?” I didn’t remember much about Porky except that he was overweight, only moved quickly when food was on offer, and acted like he was digesting twenty-four hours a day.

  “It means another time.”

  “Sorry, Pipe.”

  “It’s fine. I’m overloaded anyway.”

  “Already?” I asked. “It’s only been two weeks.”

  She sighed. “I know, but I thought the culinary program would feel more like an elective that would complement my business classes.”

  “And it doesn’t?”

  “No. I’d say seventy-five percent of the kids aren’t enrolled in outside classes. Plus, everyone I’ve met takes themselves so seriously I keep looking around to see if I’ve accidentally stumbled onto the set of Top Chef.”

  “You love a bit of healthy competition, though.”

  “Healthy competition is one thing. Girls bursting into tears over soufflé and watching a kid accidentally spiralize his finger on day one is quite another.”

  “Shit.” Suddenly it didn’t seem so bad that I’d gnawed my way through two pencils.

  “I swear I didn’t mean to call and bitch to you.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Bitch away! I’m just sorry I can’t do more to help.”

  “I really wish you were here, Zo.”

  “I wish you were here, too. You’d like Nina. She’s nothing like Porky.”

  “Your karma would be better than mine.”

  My nothing is better than yours, I thought. Apart from my relationship with my parents, who were Weasleys compared to the Dementors Piper was raised by.

  Okay, maybe that was unfair. They weren’t quite that bad. They were just a bit more waspy, racist, and judgmental than most of the people whose company I tended to seek out.

  Other than that, they were a barrel of laughs.

  S I X T E E N

  - Logan -

  Carter pulled our burritos out of the bag and weighed the silver-wrapped parcels in his hands.

  “Are you doing what I think yo
u’re doing?”

  He handed me one before leaning back on the quad-side bench. “You got more beef than me last time.”

  I rolled my eyes. “My ass I did.”

  “It’s an affliction, man,” he said, unwrapping his lunch. “Don’t give me a hard time.”

  “Why can’t you keep your eyes on your own figurative plate for once?”

  He shrugged. “My brother used to always steal my shit. I have a complex about not getting what’s mine.”

  “That’s a load of crap.” A petite brunette across the quad caught my eye, but I tore my attention away when I realized it wasn’t Piper. Not that I wished it were. I barely ever missed her company. Still, I did think of her from time to time, as if she were haunting me.

  “You sounded like you wanted an explanation.”

  I scoffed as I peeled the foil back and eyed my first bite. “You should try wanting what you have for a change instead of what’s not yours.”

  “You should talk.”

  I turned my head in his direction, finding him with two cheeks full of burrito. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He chewed and swallowed before answering. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Carter.”

  “I just think you’re one to talk.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out. I just don’t think the comment was deserved.”

  “And I don’t know if I’m cool with my best friend fucking his sister.”

  I jerked back. “Excuse me?”

  “I saw you and Zoey go upstairs at the rush party.”

  “We just talked. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “I saw how her mere presence caused you to throw our winning streak.”

  “That doesn’t mean I screwed her.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” he asked. “No offense, but you aren’t the kind of guy that makes a habit of bringing girls up to his room for heart to hearts.”

  “You’re sick, you know that?”

  He laughed. “Really? You think I’m the sick one?”

  “She’s not my sister.”

  “Tell it to the judge.”

  “Besides, she’s not like that. She’s…”

  “What?” he asked. “Too innocent for you? Any idiot can see that.”

  “Shut up and eat your lunch.”

  He reached for his drink and stared out at the quad. “For your information, I’m not the enemy here.” He slurped through his straw before setting his Coke down between us. “I want things I can’t have all the time. And I mean all. The. Time.” His eyes followed a group of young blondes whose carefully coordinated outfits gave away their sorority girl status instantly.

  Meanwhile, I grew increasingly tongue-tied as I struggled to think of a way to convince him I wasn’t sexually attracted to Zoey. “The point is we didn’t do anything.”

  His expression twisted with skepticism.

  “And she’s not my sister.”

  “If you say so.”

  “She’s my ex’s best friend.”

  “Wait- what?”

  “She’s Piper’s best friend.”

  “Piper Piper?”

  I nodded and glanced down at the sidewalk, watching as a colorful range of shoes passed by.

  “Shit. I didn’t realize.”

  “Yeah, well, you do now.”

  I was glad that shut him up, glad he remembered me opening up about it when we were roommates freshman year. Not that I’d mentioned it since. He must’ve recalled the gist of it, though, namely my regret over how things ended with Piper and the void I felt in my chest after we lost the baby.

  To be frank, no situation had ever made me feel like a smaller man and a bigger failure. Sure, my parents did their worst when I was under their roof, but that was different. I was a kid then. I didn’t blame myself for the crap they put me through.

  But single-handedly destroying the only relationship I ever invested myself in? That was a major blow. And I had only myself to blame.

  To Carter’s credit, though, he never whispered a word about it to anyone. Which meant a lot. After all, the last thing I needed was my frat brothers making baby daddy jokes. It was bad enough that they knew I was a foster kid.

  “So they’re really tight, then?” he asked. “Piper and Zoey?”

  I nodded and wondered whether my previously voracious appetite would return.

  “But if she wasn’t your sister, you totally would, right?”

  I glared at him.

  “Just admit it,” he said. “She’s so blatantly your type it honestly seems cruel that she’s your sister.”

  “How is she my type?”

  “‘Cause you need someone that wants to take care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he said. “What I mean is you always go for girls who want to slum it for a night with the brooding silent type.”

  “I don’t brood.”

  He dropped his head back and groaned. “Sure you don’t. Just like I don’t let Chi O Kerry suck my dick in exchange for chem help.”

  “What?”

  “Okay.” He raised his palms in surrender. “I’d let her suck me off even if we didn’t have class together, but it seems like the right thing to do to get her back.”

  “I wouldn’t let that girl near my dick for a million bucks.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said, shaking his head as if he were conjuring up a recent memory. “She’s the reason I believe in the saying practice makes perfect.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “Don’t judge me,” he said, recoiling. “So I get off on a girl who knows what she’s doing. Big deal. My point is, the way Zoey looks at you is different from the other girls you’ve hooked up with in the past.”

  “Different how?” I asked, shoving a big bite in my mouth just to give myself a break.

  “Different in that I think she actually gives a shit about you.”

  I swallowed my bite and washed it down with some Coke. “I give a shit about her, too.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m just worried about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because giving a shit is how people get hurt.”

  “What do you suggest?” I asked. “Avoid giving a shit about anyone ever?”

  “Works for me.”

  I shook my head and took another bite, though on one hand, I couldn’t help but think he was on to something.

  Not giving a shit would be easier.

  Unfortunately, it might still lead me straight to her.

  Only faster.

  S E V E N T E E N

  - Zoey -

  “What am I supposed to wear to this thing?” Nina asked, cocking her head at her open closet.

  “Something green might look nice,” I joked, thinking even my little sister’s obsession with pink came nowhere close to Nina’s loyalty to green. Not that I could blame her. I’d dress the same way if I had emerald eyes.

  She shot me a look. “Seriously.”

  “Have you really never frolfed?”

  She turned towards me, her short, terry cloth robe hanging loosely around her. “You say that like I’m the minority.”

  I shrugged. “I thought most people had tried it.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever thrown a frisbee in my life.”

  “What?” My neck jutted forward. “You’ve never thrown a frisbee?”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just that games with cheap, indestructible equipment were always a big hit at my house.”

  “Not really an issue when you’re an only child.”

  “Makes sense,” I said, checking my wallet to make sure I had some spare cash. “But I still figured you’d be a pro at beach games.”

  She laughed. “What a yankee thing to say. That’s like me saying you must be awesome at parking on hills because you’re from Pittsburgh.”

  “I am awesom
e at parking on hills.”

  “Okay, bad example.”

  “Come on,” I said. “You must play some beach games?”

  She turned back to her closet and shrugged. “I suppose I’m partial to a game of volleyball.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Her head whipped back around. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. That just doesn’t surprise me.” I could picture Nina in barely-there shorts, diving for the ball. No, scratch that. She was probably one of those girls that played in her bikini while everyone else covered up for fear of offensive jiggling.

  “So I have to bend over a lot?” she asked.

  “Unless you plan on getting all aces.”

  She scrunched her face.

  “Never mind. Yes, you’ll have to bend over to pick up your frisbee between strokes.” Unless you can find some pathetic boy to carry your frisbee around for you, which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.

  “Bend over between strokes?” she asked. “Sounds dirty.”

  “Stroke just means throw.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed as she reached in her closet.

  I watched her pull a little green skort out a moment later and felt a sharp pang in my chest at the thought of Piper in her favorite tennis outfit. “Who’s that guy that’s been stalking you in the cafeteria?”

  “Which guy?”

  I dragged my boots out from under my desk and started lacing them up to give her some semblance of privacy. “The one with the mad flow.”

  “Oh, him.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s a sophomore,” she said. “Went to my high school. Not interested.”

  “You say that about every guy I ask you about.”

  “How’s this?” She held her hands out and did a little spin so I could admire the way her skort looked with the plain black tank she paired it with.

  “Throw on your strappy black sandals and no one will notice you can’t throw a frisbee.”

  Her face fell. “Aren’t you going to teach me how before we get there?”

  I pressed my lips together and inhaled through my nose. “It’s not really the kind of thing you can master after half a dozen throws.”

  “Says you,” she said, making a face like she’d accepted my unspoken challenge.