“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dorian says. The sound of him typing on his phone is way louder than it has any right to be.
What if Cauler messaged me? I dig through the tangle of my blankets, twisting my arms all over the place trying to find my phone. I pretty much dislocate both shoulders just to find it on top of my headboard.
No texts from Cauler. Just Delilah asking me to let her know I’m alive. I send her a few vomit emojis and snap Nova a hangover selfie. Everything’s awful, but I can pretend.
“Hey, sooo…,” Dorian says. I turn my head to look at him, half my face still buried in the pillow. “I probably should’ve warned you about drinking on medicine.”
I blink at him.
“Just ’cause, like,” he says quickly. “I mean, we haven’t really had a big drinking night since you started taking them, and you were bad last night, dude. There’s a reason they say not to mix prescription drugs and alcohol. Especially when it’s new.”
I close my eyes. Press a hand to my forehead. I didn’t even think about it. I read the warnings so many times I probably could have recited them by heart, but I’ve gotten so used to using alcohol in place of the medication, it’s like I forgot I was even on it.
“You okay?” he asks.
I close my eyes and huff a laugh. “When have I ever been okay?”
Dorian laughs through his nose. “Relatable.”
Zero delivers our breakfast right to our room. He says it’s because he wants us to remember him as the best captain we’ve ever had, but I think it’s because he wanted to check up on me.
I feel a thousand times better after eating and showering. At least physically. But I still check my phone every few minutes while Dorian and I play Borderlands together. I get a few messages from the boys. The group chat with my sisters goes pretty steady all day. And Nova and I send snaps back and forth like usual.
But no word from Cauler.
God, I feel so pathetic. I could easily message him myself. Say something like, heyyyy sorry for that total nuclear meltdown yesterday, surprise I am like way depressed! Or I’m usually way better at the whole friends with benefits thing, my bad.
Maybe just …
Mickey: Hey.
Sorry about last night.
Thanks for taking care of me.
I toss my phone out of arm’s reach and settle in for a long, anxious night.
Jaysen: Hey Can you come to my room?
Dodge 211
I’ll prop the door
I was feeling better. Now I kind of feel like I might be sick again.
Dorian’s all settled in bed with his laptop, watching Netflix as he falls asleep. I’m half-tempted to ask him what I should do, but I need to figure this out for myself.
Okay. Suck it up. What’s the worst that can happen if I go over there? Cauler tells me we’re not hooking up anymore? That I scared him away with that mess last night? I’m leaving after next semester anyway. With any luck we’ll be drafted to different conferences and only see each other twice a season. By the time he graduates and comes into the league, maybe he’ll forget anything ever happened between us.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let it out in a rush.
“I’m going for a walk,” I say as I get out of bed and slip into my sneakers.
Dorian pulls out one of his earbuds and gives me a pointed look. “Don’t think of me this time. That would be rude to Cauler.” He raises an eyebrow and my cheeks flush. Apparently the state I came back in last time I announced I was leaving was a dead giveaway of what I’d been doing.
“I don’t know,” I say as I pull on my jacket. “Maybe he’d be into it.”
“Hmm. Wouldn’t that be something?” He puts his earbud back in and goes back to his Netflix. “Well, have fun and be safe.”
I roll my eyes. “K, Mom.”
I take my time walking over to Cauler’s building. It’s not a long walk at all, but I drag it out so long, my muscles ache from bracing against the cold by the time I make it to the door. He propped it open with one of his shoes. I sigh as I bend over to pick it up and stretch out my muscles a bit when I stand up.
Still. Stalling.
Get it together, Mickey.
Another deep breath, and I take the stairs two at a time. This building is set up in suites. As in four rooms sharing a short hallway and a bathroom. As in, at any given moment, one of these three doors can open and I will be face-to-face with one of Cauler’s suitemates as I knock on his door. At midnight.
I duck my head as I wait for him to answer. Bedsprings creak beyond the door, the sound of bare feet on linoleum. I hold my breath as the door knob turns. My hands feel clammy.
Cauler smells like he just got out of the shower. He’s got his glasses on. A long-sleeved T-shirt. He looks good. Really good.
My voice is all kinds of strained when I say, “Hey.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just steps out of the way to let me in. The first thing I notice is the giant poster of Ashley Graham in a bikini with a fair amount of underboob showing. Besides that …
I almost choke on my own saliva.
There’s a poster of Nova on the wall. It’s smaller than Ashley Graham’s, but bigger than the others of singers and rappers and baseball players. She’s in a floor-length red dress with a slit all the way up her thigh, leaning forward in a chair with her lips parted in this weird pout.
“Oh my god,” I say. I whip my phone out to snap it to Nova.
“My roommate’s side,” Cauler says. Stating the obvious.
“You never told me he was a Nova fanboy!”
He shrugs, eyes roaming over his roommate’s wall. “I’m not in here much.”
Cauler’s side of the room is pretty bare. There’s a Bruins tapestry above his bed. Our practice and game schedule for next semester pinned to his corkboard. Something that looks like an autographed set list next to that. No other touches of his personality to be seen.
It makes it a little easier, being in his room. Alone with him.
We’ve been alone plenty of times now. But it was always my room, my home ground. This is different, and not just because I’m afraid of what he’s gonna say.
Cauler sits on the edge of his bed and puts his forearms on his knees. Hands clasped together. Looking at the floor. The pose of a person who’s just been given the most harrowing news of their life.
“So,” he says. “Last night.”
I sigh heavily. Turn away from him, pushing both hands into my hair.
Here we go.
I sink into his roommate’s desk chair. “I’m sorry,” I say. Don’t give myself the chance to wall up. “I’ve been taking this new medicine. Shouldn’t’ve been drinking. Thanks for…” I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Thanks for getting me back to my room.”
He looks up at me, slowly rubbing his hands together now. I can hear the faint click of his tongue piercing against his teeth for a few seconds before he says, “Remember the things you were saying?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
I sigh again, leaning the chair back on two legs and staring at a point above Cauler’s head. I don’t want to talk about it. Talking brings up emotions, and emotions in this situation would be very, very bad. But he obviously wants to talk about it.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask. It’s a total fuckboy response, but it’s all I can manage.
“I want you to tell me what you want,” he says without hesitation. His face is the blankest I have ever seen it. I don’t like it. He’s usually so expressive. I hate that it’s my fault he looks like this. “I know you were flirting with Sierra last night, and that’s whatever. But if that’s how it’s going to be, I need you to tell me now so I can decide what to do with it.”