So I set him down with a modest shove. He stumbles into one of his buddies, and I’m about to tell them to get the fuck out of here when Kennedy pushes through the back of the frat group.
“Ashton!” she shouts. Not to be heard over Kellermann’s regular Saturday night noise. But because she sets a glare on him so cold and fierce, I think I might catch frostbite just standing in its periphery.
Though it’s only been a week, it still hits me. Punches me right in the gut how beautiful she is and how much I miss her and how I want to kiss her, right in front of everyone. Because she’s gorgeous with that perfect ponytail and no-nonsense stance, looking equal measures serious and pissed as fucking hell.
And then I laugh out loud, because to top it all off, she’s wearing pajama pants. Dotted with coffee mugs and hearts.
Kennedy hears. Hazel eyes meet mine. Stare at me with that same fierce gaze she gave her ex. I want to hold her. To apologize for every shitty thing I ever said to her. And I want her to tell me those three words again. So this time, I can respond the right way.
Instead, she asks, “Did you punch him yet?”
I shake my head. Tell her what I’d only just realized. “He’s not worth it.”
“Oh,” she blinks, taken back for a moment before hiding it again. “Good.”
She turns to Keeland. Lifts her arm.
And socks him right in the mouth.
42
Kennedy
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Levi asks us.
Morris tilts his head, squinting at the canvas our resident jokester displays to our group. “She’s very…”
“Busty,” Natalie finishes for him. Morris tips his water bottle to her.
“Too busty,” Rylie agrees. She grabs the portrait, examining the sketch of her naked body—Levi’s final assignment for the nude art class she’d modeled for—before holding it up to the real thing for comparison. “Did you miss the lesson on proportions?”
“You know I missed every lesson where you had your shirt off.”
“Levi, you’ve seen my boobs, right?” She worriedly gestures to her small chest.
“Your breasts and I are well-acquainted, yes.”
“Why’d you draw them so big?”
“Hey, I got a passing grade on them big titties.”
On the kitchen counter next to me, Natalie ducks her head into Morris’s shoulder, laughing. Standing on my other side, Grayson whispers to me, “Did you know practicing art helps promote better achievements in math and reading?”
“Explains why Levi’s only getting passing grades in those classes, too,” I whisper back.
Gray grins, toasting his red plastic cup to mine. “Ready for finals?”
“Pretty sure we’re the only ones ready.” Because rather than spend this last weekend preparing for exams, our friends decided to hit up The Six-Pack for blowing off any and all sort of studying.
With Rylie and Levi arguing over the latter’s inability to appropriately scale body parts, I take a moment and observe our little group. To appreciate the times we’d spent together this semester, as well as bittersweetly recognize that over the summer, I won’t see them every day like I had during the school year. Though we’re having fun now, the upcoming week will be busy with clashing exam schedules and stress from cramming late into the night. I’m not sure any of them, other than Gray, have hit the books yet. Meanwhile, I’d been hard at work on term papers and newspaper assignments every night.
Mostly to distract myself.
From the fact one of us isn’t here.
I haven’t seen Spencer since that night at Kellermann’s a couple of weeks ago. Not since I punched Ashton for snooping on my computer right at the same time Brigid sent the photo from her wedding. The one he deleted before I could ever see it. From Meegan, I’d learned that it had been he who had approached her at ABB’s fundraiser and told her something was going on between Spencer and me. Asshole.
It surprised me, how good it felt to punch him. To release all my frustration with his interfering and underhandedness. To make him understand, more than my words ever could, how thoroughly over him I am.
No wonder Spencer prefers fists.
But following that night, there’s been no trace of Spencer on campus. Even when I lifted myself from Tipsy Turvy’s couch to go back to work and class, his seat remained empty in our shared biology course. At first, I’d thought it was out of respect for my feelings. That he was avoiding me and letting me have my space.
When a whole week passed, though, and still no Spencer, I finally asked Grayson if he knew where his roommate was. To which, Gray replied, “Yes.”
Nothing else. Helpful, that one.
It’s not right, I think now. He should be here.
Rylie and Levi make up over their breast-centered argument and head to the living room to dance, leaving Morris with the canvas. The quarterback grimaces at it, setting it against the kitchen cabinet, Rylie-side hidden. As he and Gray discuss Levi’s lack of any artistic talent, I hop off the counter.
Natalie stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get some air.”
“Fine, but you know the drill.”
She holds out one jingling hand. With a roll of my eyes, I drop my keys into her palm. Not that I have any intention of leaving this party. For once, I’m not counting down the minutes until I can go. After a week of books and color-coded notes, I actually looked forward to this when Natalie and Rylie told me we were going out.
Though, honestly, a big part of me had hoped Spencer would make an appearance.
Outside, I take a seat at that whimsical porch swing. Take out my phone. But instead of checking the time or social media, I just stare at the background photo. The one of me cuddling with Spencer. It had been a toss up between this and the one of
