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Storm Sandoval probably has the kind of stroke game that will have you seeing God.

I clear my throat and shake my head at the same time. “No, I’ve got it. I don’t need you to set me up with anyone.”

Her face morphs, and she claps like a coked-up seal, jumping up and down before seeming to freeze. “Wait. What do you mean, you’ve got it? Or, I guess I should say,who?”

I crane my neck to look at the can lights in the ceiling.

“It’s not even a thing at all,” I reply.

“Oh? Tell me about this ‘not even a thing.’ Who is it?” She shakes my arm, and I look back at her, blinking now that I’m not staring into the light.

“Do you know Storm Sandoval?” I ask, and she makes a weird face that has me fearing that maybe she hooked up with him. Which is fine, because what claim do I have over him? But still.

“Ugh, yes, I know Storm and his little girlfriend, too. Was he trying to step to you, Shae? Don’t get me wrong—you need to getdicked down ASAP, but I don’t think Storm Sandoval is the right one to do it.”

My lips twist as I consider her words. “Why?”

“He’s a man ho, babes. Plus, that fragile-looking girlfriend of his seems like she’ll break into a million pieces at the slightest offense, but also like she’ll take a pen to your eye socket a laThe Faculty.”Yenn crosses her eyes before shaking her head and sitting on my bed, making herself entirely too comfortable.

“Got it,” I reply. Because what else is there to say?

“Great. We’ve just got to find you someone else. Someone more…acceptable.” She taps her chin as if in deep thought.

“Really, Yenn. Don’t worry about it. I have options,” I say. It’s a lie because my hookup list is drier than the chicken patty sandwiches they serve in the caf on weekends, but I know if anything I’ll be able to end my streak with someone.

…someone who isn’t Storm Man-ho Sandoval.

“Yay! Okay, but because I know you, you need a deadline. Sowhenare you gonna get the bottom knocked out of it?”

I can’t help but laugh at that. As intrusive as my best friend can be, I know she genuinely only wants the best for me.

“Let’s go out this weekend and see what happens, okay? Is that acceptable to you, Princess?”

She scrunches her nose as if she’s smelled a fart, and I laugh again just because I know how much she hates her legal first name.

“Yes,” she says. “But no stalling. You need a boo-thang before cuffin’ season.”

I roll my eyes, mentally forcing myself to push out the fact that there are only four months until the end of the year.

“Deal,” I reply, and because we’re goofs, we shake on it. After a moment, she pulls me in for a tight hug, and I squeeze her back with just as much force.

“I love you, Shae-Shae,” she whispers, and I murmur back the same.

We break apart when a loud crash followed by Ezra’s “Shit!” comes from the direction of the kitchen.

Rushing in, we skid to a stop in unison. Our stand mixer is tipped on its side. What looks like pancake batter oozes all over the counter, and splatters against the adjoining wall and Ezra.

“All I wanted were some pancakes,” Ezra practically wails.

We’re all silent for a few heartbeats before Yenn and I erupt into laughter.

Taking a cleansing breath and wiping my watering eyes, I resign myself to cleaning up the mess.

4

STORM

There’s no good reason for Bambi to be on the Asheford campus, so I’m confused as fuck and a little annoyed she called me after my first class of the day to meet her in the cafeteria. She attends Pennington College—a women’s university near Champaign—and when she’s not in school, she rarely leaves her parents’ house next door to my childhood home if she can manage it.