Page 112 of All These Beautiful Strangers

I slung my purse determinedly over my shoulder and stood.

“We’ll see about that,” I said, and walked out as fast as my shaky legs could carry me, nearly knocking over the waiter and our entrees in the process.

Thirty-One

Charlie Calloway

2017

It had been three days since Drew had been expelled. I couldn’t stand being in my room anymore—not with Drew’s bare mattress and her empty closet and the naked hook on the door where she used to hang her bath towel. I also avoided the dining hall, where I would have to see Stevie and her judgmental glare, or Dalton and Crosby, who looked nearly as glum as I felt. So, I went to class and then the library until it closed and I ate cereal and whatever sustenance my mini fridge could provide and avoided everything else altogether.

I had just come back from the library that evening and unlocked my door. When I flipped on the switch, I jumped.

Because Drew’s mattress wasn’t empty anymore. There was someone sleeping there.

“What the fuck?” I said, putting my hand on my chest. I could feel my heart pounding in my rib cage.

Greyson threw up a hand to shield his eyes from the light and blinked at me. “Hello to you too,” he said.

I came in and closed the door quickly behind me. “Jeez, you scared me,” I said, dropping my bag on my bed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Greyson said, sitting up. “I was worried after I got your text, and you haven’t really been responding to my calls.”

“No, I mean, what are you doing here in my room?” I asked. “Like, how’d you get in?”

“I was asking around for you on the quad and I met this girl—Hayley? Harmony?”

“Harper?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s it. I told her I was a friend from home and that I wanted to surprise you and so she snuck me into the dormitory hall and showed me which room was yours.”

Hmm. That was oddly nice of her. I couldn’t help but think she had some hidden, evil agenda, though what that could possibly be, I didn’t know. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

“Then I just jimmied the lock,” Greyson said. “What? Like it’s supposed to be hard?”

“Okay, MacGyver,” I said.

“If you don’t want me here, I can leave,” Greyson said.

“I didn’t say that,” I said. Because it was nice that he was there, and I really didn’t want him to go. “Sorry about not returning your calls. I’ve just . . . been in a mood. I haven’t really felt like talking to people.”

“I understand,” Greyson said.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“I’m a guy,” Greyson said. “We’re always hungry.”

I went over to my mini fridge and pulled out bagels, a jar of pizza sauce, and a bag of mozzarella cheese.

“Tonight, we feast,” I said.

Greyson and I sat on the floor of my dorm room, the spoils of our dinner spread out around us—plates smeared with pizza sauce, a half-empty bag of pretzels, four empty soda cans, and an empty carton of cookie dough ice cream.

“How’re Claire and the boys?” I asked, leaning back against my bed. I was so full I felt like I might throw up.

“They’re . . . good,” Greyson said.

“What’s with the pause?” I asked.