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SAWYER

A t six-thirty in the morning, I wake for the second time. The first was when my perpetually absent roommate came in around three—nearly giving me a heart attack—and got into the bed she’s never slept in before.

At the moment, light streams in through curtains she apparently pushed open. God only knows why she did that. It’s Saturday, for fuck’s sake. We could’ve slept in.

Turning onto my side, I stare across the room at her. She’s rolled up in her bedspread, facing away from me. Her burrito configuration exposes the mattress, which is bare. She never even bothered to put sheets on the bed.

At least she’s still here. Honestly, I half expected Ash to disappear before I woke up… like a member of the fae, which is what she looks like to me. Honey blond hair. Impossibly symmetrical features with high cheekbones, china blue eyes, rosebud lips. She is freakishly beautiful. And also quirky and friendly, with an essence seemingly made of smoke. On move-in day, one minute, she was putting knick-knacks on her dresser and chatting up a storm, the next, she was gone for two months.

“Hey?” I say, testing out whether the blazing light has woken her, too.

“Hmm?” The response comes from somewhere deep in her blanket cocoon.

“Are you back?” My voice is hoarse from not having had enough time to wake up.

A slim hand grabs the curtain and pulls it across the window. Thank God.

Ash rolls over to face me. “Oh, hey. Sorry I woke you up and scared you when I came in. Couldn’t remember which bed was mine. Did you move the furniture around?”

Around where? The room is too small for any other configuration.

“No.”

Looking at the plastic tower of drawers at the end of my bed, she narrows her eyes. “Is there more stuff in here?”

“Uh… No.”

As she bursts out laughing, she smacks her heel against the mattress for emphasis. “Wow, I guess it’s been too long.”

A small smile of acknowledgment forms. “Nine weeks.”

She sits up, revealing an oversize black graphic t-shirt with a monster truck emerging from a cloud of dust. “You’ve had the room all to yourself till now. Would it suck if I wanted to move back in here?”

“ Back in?” I mumble. “Your bed doesn’t even have sheets.”

After a shared glance, we crack up laughing.

When the laughter fades, I shrug, still smiling. “It’s your room, too. You’re still paying for it.”

With a shrug and a devilish smirk, she leans forward. “Well, Scotty is anyway.” Rolling toward the wall, she digs a giant purse out from where it fell off the bed.

“Scotty?”

“My brother.”

“Wow. Your brother’s paying your room and board at GU? He must’ve been really impressed when you got in.” I feel a pinch of envy over the fact that she has a brother who gives a shit about her future. That’s something I’ll never have.

“Impressed? Nah, Scotty’s a genius, so he takes academic success for granted. He wanted me to come to Granthorpe because it’s only a couple of hours from his house.”

“So he could keep an eye on you?”

“No. Well, maybe,” she says with a smirk. “Big brother vibes for sure. But no, he would’ve paid for me to go wherever I chose. He just didn’t want me to go away because he would’ve missed me. If he could, Scotty would have the entire family lined up in houses on the same block as his. I tease him he should’ve been a cult leader so he could start a commune.” She laughs merrily and rolls her eyes. “As if.”

Her brother wanted her to go to GU because otherwise he would’ve missed her. I can’t even imagine that being a factor in a family’s decision-making. I’m at Granthorpe because Allendales go to Granthorpe. And they come here because they believe it’s the finest university in the country. If I hadn’t gotten in, after my expensive prep school education and their investment in a college admissions consultant, the fallout would’ve been severe.

Ash’s hands delve frantically through the contents of her bag and then she lets out a small shriek of joy and holds aloft a package of partially smashed raspberry Zingers. “I’m so hungry.” She tears open the plastic wrapper and slides the squished processed pastries free. “Here. Split them with me.”

My face scrunches in distaste. “No thanks.”

Undeterred by my reaction, she eats all three of them. “So good.”

Cocking my head, I flip my hand with flourish.“And so nutritious.”

Her eyes twinkle as she smirks at me. “I wish I’d known you were funny.”

“Why?”

“I’d have moved in sooner… Or at least split my time.”

“Where have you been living?”

“I can’t really say.” Her tone is breezy as if it’s totally normal to be cagey about whether one has chosen to couch surf like a homeless person rather than live in a dorm room that’s paid for.

“You can’t say because…” I make a “do go on” hand gesture. “You don’t know?”

She chokes out a laugh. “No, nothing like that.” Her eyes grow wide. “Wow, how wasted do you think I get?”

Sitting up, I look her over. Despite smudged makeup and disheveled hair, she beats most women on their best day. It shouldn’t make me more forgiving of her weirdness, but it does. I’m such a sucker for wayward and beautiful. A lingering longing for my bio mom, no doubt. A therapist would have a field day with me.

“Do you like coffee?” Ash asks.

“More than life itself.” My deadpan delivery causes her to do a double take.

“Hey, can we just go down and get coffee whenever we want? In the dining hall?”

My brows rise. “As opposed to what? Making reservations?” Is she for real? How does she not know how the dining halls work?

“Okay, cool. Wanna go?” She climbs from the bed wearing an extremely short, puffy white lace skirt. It’s halfway to becoming a tutu. Ash scratches her leg before making an attempt to smooth down the skirt’s layers. “So freaking itchy. Can’t believe I forgot to take this off last night.”

“I can’t believe you forgot to take it off when you tried it on. What’s up with that? You had a Swan Lake audition between classes?”

Her chuckles emerge in a staccato rhythm as she turns to her small dresser. “Man, if I could dance like that, I would wear this skirt into the ground. No, I was the worst kid in ballet class. At the Y’s rec center, so we’re not talking stiff competition.” Chuckling again, she shakes her head. “Complete lost cause.” Opening her drawers, she finds a pair of print leggings that could induce seizures. “It’s cool that I have clean clothes here. Legit helpful.”

Even in the slept-in t-shirt and crazy leggings, Ash ends up looking like the cover of a magazine. I grab jeans and a plain v-neck navy sweater. Once dressed, I don’t look like I belong in a fashion magazine. Or like I’ve ever opened one. “Nondescript but never sloppy” is an Allendale signature look, and I’ve got it down.

As we leave the room, my phone buzzes.

I pull it from my pocket.

Applicant Allendale,

I appreciate your efforts the past five weeks and hope you gained valuable insights into the Briar Club and its application process.

With regret, I won’t be able to mentor you further as my schedule has become too full. Best of luck with everything.

Regards,

Clare Duffy

My body stiffens with rage.

She promised she’d prep me for all the upcoming events and interviews, and I performed every tedious task that privileged swizzle stick gave me while never once complaining.

Now, after one random flirtation, she’s dropped me?

Also, is withdrawing her mentorship as far as she means to go? Because if she wanted to, she could blackball me from the Briar Club. She is part of the membership team, after all.

“That fucking bitch.”