Page 6 of Tell Me Pucking Lies

We drive in silence for a few minutes. The town shrinks behind us—the gas station with the broken sign, the Dollar General, the church with the crooked steeple. Everything I’ve wanted to leave for so long.

“So.” Thea taps the steering wheel. “Dorm decor. What are we thinking? Fairy lights? Tapestries? One of those neon signs that saysGood Vibes Only?”

“I’m thinkingnot broke.”

She snorts. “But you’ve got scholarship money, right? Live a little.”

“That money’s for books and food, Thea.”

“Books are overrated. Food is negotiable.”

I roll my eyes. She grins, takes a long drag, and flicks the ash out the window.

“Okay, real talk,” she says. “Boys. Are we talking about boys?”

“No.”

“We’re talking about boys.”

“Thea—”

“What about your hot brother?”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m just saying, if I see him on campus—”

“He won’t notice you’re breathing.”

“Rude.” She laughs, but it’s light, teasing. “But you love him, right? Like, despite everything.”

I sigh, staring out the window. The trees blur past. “Yeah. I’m sick in the head to keep putting up with his shit after everything.”

“You’re literally only going there because he goes there.”

“I’m just happy he’s in college.” I glance at her. “I hate to admit that I didn’t think he’d last this long.”

She nods, takes another hit, and exhales slowly. “Knock on wood, bitch.”

I laugh, knocking twice on the dashboard.

“I’ll fix him,” she says, smiling.

We pass a billboard for the university—big block letters, a photo of the football team looking way more polished than they probably are in real life. Under it, someone’s spray-painted graffiti in sloppy red:Nothing’s clean, dirty cunts.

Jesus.

“Charming,” I mutter.

Thea cackles. “Welcome to higher education.”

The campus is bigger than high school but smaller than the photos online. Rougher, too. The sidewalks are cracked, weeds pushing through the concrete. The streetlights buzz even in daylight, and there are football posters peeling off every lamppost. Some hockey ones, too—guys in helmets, sticks raised, faces blurred by motion.

Behind the dorms, the rink looms like a warehouse. I hear the sharp crack something echoing across the parking lot, and my stomach twists.

Great.

“Where’s your brother?” Thea parks crooked, half on the curb. “Wasn’t he supposed to meet you?”