Page 7 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Chapter Three

“Deep breath,” I order myself. “Don’t be a coward.”

Quickly following through with both things and swiping my keycard against the pad on the door, a faint click comes as the lock disengages, and I grab the handle to push it open.

Stepping into a dorm that’s pretty much exactly like my brother’s, only slightly smaller, but it has the same cream-colored walls and dark wood floors with the kitchen sitting on my right.

A small island stands in front of the fridge and microwave setup there, both of which have some nice-looking cabinets built in around them.

The living room lies pretty much directly in front of me, with two big leather armchairs and a love seat situated between them.

A flat-screen is already mounted to the wall and my roommate must already be here too because there are traces of her scattered around, like a chunky knit blanket hanging off the back of one of the chairs and a tiny projector on the coffee table.

Dammit.

I move my eyes between the two doors on opposite sides of the living room, debating for another second before letting go of the one behind me.

Not doing anything to stop it from closing loudly.

I take a few more steps into the dorm, coming to a slow stop in the living room when the door on my right suddenly opens and a tall blonde walks out holding a pair of tennis shoes in her hand.

“Oh.” She halts midstep, running her eyes over me, and I take full advantage of doing the same. Quickly noting the black leggings and loose pink workout shirt she’s wearing along with the high ponytail, the features on her face make me think of that ice princess from that new movie—

“Hi.” She gives me a little wave. “I’m Marley, and sorry, but I’m not a hugger.”

I snort softly at that, immediately warming enough to grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not a hugger either.” Bracing myself for the giveaway regardless, I force my lips to stay up while telling her, “I’m Ophelia, but you can call me O.”

Her eyes move over my face again, brows pinching together before sudden recognition flashes there.

“Oh.” She nods quickly. “Cool, cool.” Her gaze drifts away to move around the room, and I can practically see the wheels in her brain spinning.

“Right, so uh, O.” She looks back at me. “I can do that.”

“Cool,” I echo, blowing out a breath while walking over to one of the chairs and dropping my backpack beside it. “So where are you from?”

Trying for conversation since I am going to be living with this girl.

“Georgia.” She trails after me, sitting down on the love seat after a beat and starting to pull on her tennis shoes.

“My mother is annoyingly old school, Southern debutante and all that shit.” Her shoulders lift with a halfhearted shrug.

“She went to Pinecrest, so there was really no other option for me.” She pauses in lacing up her shoes, staring at me.

“Would you like me to pretend I don’t know who you are or where you’re from to make this more natural or… ”

“Ha!” A laugh escapes me at her straightforward demeanor, and I quickly add. “You’re good.” I collapse into the chair and twist just enough to throw my legs over the arm while adding, “Just don’t ask for the nitty-gritty details or sell pictures of me in my sleep, and we’ll be good.”

“Got it.” She smirks. “No pictures in your sleep, I can do that.”

I grin back and try to keep the judgment from my voice while questioning. “So are you like…a gymnast or something?”

Really hoping she’s not a cheerleader considering that the ones in high school weren’t exactly a great experience. Ollie has always been more naturally popular, leaving me in a weird space of people either not knowing what to do with me or just being plain rude sometimes.

“Nope.” An amused sound leaves her. “Too tall for all that, I play soccer.”

“Soccer.” The word leaves me with a breath of relief, and she lifts her brows at me questioningly. “Soccer’s great,” I try again. “Sports aren’t really my thing—more so my brother’s—but I at least know enough about soccer to understand what you’re talking about.”

“Good to know.” She giggles, standing up and nodding to the front door. “I was about to head over to check out the athletic center if you want to come?”

“Sorry, I think I’ll have to pass.” I wave her off quickly. “Just so much unpacking to do.”

“Right,” she drags out disbelievingly, shaking her head. “Well, I can pick up dinner from the mess hall for us on the way back if you want. We could eat together here.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” I agree, loving the idea of avoiding the crowd for a while longer. “Just grab me whatever looks good.”

“Perfect.” She smiles, heading for the door. “Later, Ophelia.”

“Later!” I call out, waiting for the door to close before sighing happily. Not overly energetic. Not nosy. I really couldn’t have asked for more.

I push up out of the chair, snagging my backpack off the floor before heading to my room to make good on my word to unpack at least, noticing for the first time as I come to the door that the knobs in my dorm are different from the ones in Ollie’s.

Crystal instead of bronze. A nice touch.

It has me running my fingers over it once before pushing the door open and immediately falling in love with the rich color of the room that’s completely different from the boys’.

The dark-green walls and wood wainscotting pair perfectly with a cream-colored sleigh bed that sits facing me.

Its tufted headboard rests against the back wall, and silvery bedding covers it already, with boxes from home piled along the foot of it.

A small nightstand rests on its right with a pretty silver lamp on it, and the same shelves and desk setup that Ollie has are built into the wall opposite my bed.

The large window that runs the length of the outside wall has even darker green drapes hanging from it, showing off a view that’s nothing but forest.

It gives the entire room a cozy feel.

As if we’re tucked away in a magical treehouse or something.

I turn away from the window before getting too lost and spy the tablet lying on the bed.

Sutton’s words from before rattle around in my head, making me drop my backpack to the floor.

Immediately heading over to pick up the white tablet and investigate it further, I click the small button on the side to see the Pinecrest logo lighting up the screen and play around with it until I find my class schedule.

Seeing that I have French, art history, and the literature seminar I signed up for on Mondays and Wednesdays, while Tuesdays and Thursdays are reserved for American history and my least favorite subjects of math and science.

Fridays being the oddball day of me only having debate, which has been my choice in elective for a while now.

And I’m definitely needing the outlet right now too.

I set the tablet back down and move on to try the door that’s tucked into the wall facing the window, pulling it open to find a nice but modest-looking bathroom by this place’s standards.

The counters and floor are made out of subway tile with a large oval mirror and sink combo on my left and a fancy standing shower next to the toilet on my right.

Another door sits at the back of the bathroom, and I immediately go to open it, finding a long walk-in closet that’s eating away at the bathroom space.

“That explains it,” I mutter, looking at the matching uniform sets hanging neatly from the rack on my left.

The dark green pleated skirt and white blouse ensemble with its black jacket make me scowl at the fact that I’m not getting to leave uniforms behind in high school since apparently Pinecrest still requires them during class hours.

Antiquated bullshit in my opinion, but I’m not exactly in a position to be choosy when it comes to my choice in higher education at the moment.

So I reach out and finger one of the ties while sighing at the fact that I don’t even know how to do them. “Weird.”

I step away from the clothes and quickly relieve my bladder before heading back to my room, pulling boxes open and unceremoniously dumping my clothes into the drawers in the closet.

Only taking the time to hang up the winter jackets and the few nice dresses my mother insisted I bring just in case the need for them arose.

I force myself to wait until all the essentials are unpacked and my electronics are tucked neatly into the desk before starting on what I really want to devote my energy to.

Quickly opening up the three remaining boxes, I start to pull the books from them, separating them by era and theme and placing Voltaire on the shelves beside Nietzsche and the Bronte sisters next to Austen.

The top shelf is reserved for my first edition of 1984 that Mom gifted me two years ago for Christmas and the old copy of Hamlet that Ollie jokingly gave me for our last birthday—the only Shakespeare in my collection.

Some of the spicier stuff I own gets slotted in with the other contemporaries in the middle.

Marley comes back right as I’m putting the finishing touches on the shelves and pops her head in to see me turning one of my Funko Pops! of Toothless to rest at just the right angle.

“Ah.” Her wide eyes run along the shelves. “I think I just found my study partner.”

“Lucky you.” I grin, stepping back and taking in my hard work. “I don’t study with just anyone, but since you’re my roommate, I’ll make an exception and share notes.”

“Ha!” She smirks at me, nodding over her shoulder. “Come on, Bookish, I come bearing food and hope you like Italian.”

“Love it.”

The rest of my night is spent eating spaghetti with Marley and getting to know her.

I learn that she’s been playing soccer practically as long as she’s been able to walk and that she has two younger sisters, which momentarily fascinates me, having only grown up with a brother.

I quickly surmise that she doesn’t get along with her mom, and when she finds out I’m close with mine, she fires questions at me until delivering a verdict that she sounds badass.

We’re winding down in the living room and finishing off the garlic bread when she finally prods.

“So your brother is here, right? The one they tried to kidnap too?”

I take my time chewing the bread before swallowing it down and finally answering. “Yeah, Ollie’s here with me. You’ll probably be able to tell who he is as soon as you see him.”

“You two look alike?”

“Oh, yeah.” I laugh softly. “He’s taller, but our coloring and features are very similar.”

She leans her head back against the chair. “Interesting.”

“What?” I cock my head to the side at her thoughtful expression. “Have you seen a picture or something? Think he’s cute?”

“No,” she scoffs. “I’ve seen no pictures, or if I have, I don’t remember him and have no time for guys anyway.” Her mouth opens, but she pauses before starting hesitantly. “I was just thinking that must have been hard for both of you…the whole, you know, kidnapping thing.”

“Yeah.” I swallow again, quickly clearing my throat to push through. “Thanks, it was, but I’m honestly just trying to move on now.”

Hopefully shutting down this line of conversation.

“Understood.” She nods. “I’m here if you ever want to talk, though. Just saying.”

“Thanks,” I repeat before going for distraction. “So what’s your schedule like?”

We finish off the night by comparing schedules and learning that we share French, math, and science classes together, while her Friday is completely taken up by athletics.

After that we toss out the empty containers from the food she brought back and say good night before retreating to our rooms, both of us wanting to make sure we have everything in order for class tomorrow morning.

But it’s only after the door shuts behind me and I’m standing perfectly still that it hits me.

The isolation.

Like there are eyes in the walls of the perfectly innocent room staring back at me.

Creeping along my skin with an itch that has my own lost screams reverberating in my ears.

It has my heart pumping faster and my stomach dropping with nervous anticipation as the air in the room starts to take on a gravity.

Pressure suddenly tangible and consolidating to press down on my chest with some dark corner of my mind flickering to life to scream—

“Ollie! Wake up!”

“Stop it.” I clench my fists, blinking rapidly and trying to anchor myself in the present. “Fucking stop it.”

I force myself to move through the quicksand, putting one foot in front of the other until I’ve built enough momentum to make it to the bathroom and strip my clothes off.

I turn the shower to cold and quickly step underneath the icy spray to shock myself fully back into reality, gasping a few times as it hits me.

Waiting another minute or two until my head is completely clear before turning the water to warm and quickly washing up.

Throwing on my comfiest T-shirt and sweatpants when I get out, I tuck myself into bed with Ollie’s keycard resting in plain sight on the nightstand.

I won’t use it, though.

I can’t—not this first night, at least.

I need to make it alone tonight and not interrupt the hopeful bonding that’s happening in his room. Can’t have his roommates or mine knowing right off the bat just how fucked the kidnapping left me. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

I have to make it through tonight.

And if I can make it tonight…I can make it tomorrow night too. Maybe.

It’s my own damn fault, really. For leaning on Ollie so much after it all and snubbing my nose at the therapist, but—it’s just so easy with us. He’s the other part of myself and probably worried as fuck right now too.

Which is also why I need to stay put.

Exactly. Right.

This will be good.

I reach over and hit the switch on the lamp, plunging the room into darkness while looping that thought through my mind.

Lying back and pulling the covers up while settling into the comfy pillows, staring at the dark ceiling, and forcing myself to count out some slow breaths instead of the beat of my heart that just seems to be picking up again.

“Ollie! Ollie!”

Fuck.