Calmed by those memories, I read the rest of her list, of the reasons that made her decide to take a chance on a guy she didn’t like. I gloss over the ones about her ex. Smile at the more absurd ones (“The fuck, Kennedy, I don’t care what your pussy looks like.”). On and on, I read—
Right to the very end.
And the world drops from under me.
36
Spencer
I can’t see a future with him.
The words whisper in my head at the worst moments. When I try to shove them away with training at the gym. When Morris catches me bringing home a six pack from the store. When Hart and Stone take offense to me roaring at them to get the fuck out of the bathroom. When my phone rings late into the night. I threw it into my closet before the initials KFW tempted my drunk ass to slur what she meant by them.
I can’t see a future with him.
I know what they mean.
Kennedy Fucking Walsh had sex with me because she doesn’t see me as a viable option for a real relationship.
Which is fucking fine by me. I don’t do relationships. They’re messy. Fucked up. They take up too much time and wrap you in too many fucking feelings and wondering just what the fuck is wrong with you that the most perfect girl in the world doesn’t feel the fucking same thing you fucking feel when you look at her.
“Can you stop scowling? You’re really killing the vibe,” Hart says.
“You just came for the free fucking food,” I snap.
“And you didn’t?” he asks, waving down a cater waiter holding a tray. He grabs four petri-dishes of appetizers, just as Stone approaches with three glass beakers, fogging with a mystery red liquid.
“How cool is this? The punch is from an actual bubbling volcano prop, and they’re using dry ice for the smoke,” she says, setting a beaker in front of each of us. “This sorority went all out.”
I grunt as she and Hart fawn over the decor details. Alpha Beta Beta did, in fact, go all out for their spring fundraiser. With Prescott Hall construction finished—and unfortunate dick mural removed—this grand opening celebration has been talk of campus for weeks. Now, standing in the building’s expansive atrium, I can’t bring myself to give a damn. Even if I was interested in science, I can’t think of anything but those words in Kennedy’s notebook.
I only came because the rest of my friends would be here. Except Morris, whose dad roped him not only into dinner, but an entire day of tense father-son quality bonding. Natalie had disappeared in search of desserts the moment she and Stone arrived, and as far as I know, Kennedy isn’t here yet. Running late, a move so uncharacteristic of her, that it sets me even more on edge than I am.
I can’t see a future with him.
“Did you see the photo booth—there’s Einstein wigs and apples for Newton—even a turtleneck and mustard blazer to dress up like Carl Sagan—”
“Grayson,” Hart holds up a snack. “Unless any of those guys are the genius that made these sausage rolls, I don’t care.”
Rowe isn’t deflated by that comment. Unlike us, our engineering major roommate does have every reason to be here. From the moment we stepped under the balloon archway leading into the atrium—(“It’s shaped like a deoxyribonucleic acid double helix!”)—Gray has gasped at every little thing, like a nerdy-as-fuck princess entering her first royal ball. He’s spent the past hour roaming the space, giddy as a kid in a fucking candy store.
Or, really, a science fair. Since that’s what the atrium’s supposed to be. Aside from tables like the one we stand at, there are booths scattered among the floor representing several different STEM fields where alumni and students can make donations for Prescott Hall’s classroom supplies.
Stone holds up her phone. “Gray, Natalie says there’s a giant display of cupcakes in the shape of the periodic table. She’s bringing us some. What element do you want?”
He freezes, put on the spot as his glasses slip down his nose. “Hydrogen—No, Krypton. Wait, no. Nitrogen. It makes up azidoazide azide. Incredibly explosive…” His voice wanders off, distracted by something on the ceiling.
“Sounds like Levi’s dad,” Stone murmurs as she texts Natalie.
“Ursa Major!” Gray points to dangling star lights in the formation of constellations.
Hart fiddles with a knob on the microscope centerpiece. It breaks off, and Stone discreetly takes it from him. He whispers to her as she hides it under a napkin, “Which member of the Justice League is that?”
Rylie gets a new message. “Oh, Natalie says there are—Wait—No—”
“What?” Hart and I ask.
With a wary look at Gray, she hisses at us, “Robots.”
Rowe’s sharp intake lets us know he heard her. Before we can stop him, he weaves around a crowd of other students, all equally geeky in glasses and slouching shoulders and shit—does that guy have a pocket protector?
“I’ll handle him,” Hart calls as he follows the direction Gray disappeared, though he’s distracted by another waiter passing in front of him with a serving platter of shrimp.
Which leaves me and Stone. She waits a beat before saying, “You know, Kennedy and I are latte lovers. That’s a tight bond, Spence.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“If anyone ever made her unhappy, I think I’d have to adopt fifty cats,” she sips from a beaker. Keeps her eyes on mine. “And then put those cats in the bedroom of the person who upset her.”
My eyes narrow in confusion. Is Stone… threatening me?
Wait. The fuck. Does she—
“Rylie,” someone steps up to our table. At the same time, Stone and I face the newcomer.
Fury slams into me.
“Ashton,” Stone says. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
My sentiments exactly. Because wasn’t he supposed to be in Europe or some shit?
“It’s been a while,” he says, holding out his hand. “I thought we could be civil.”
“Oh, sure,” she nods,
