The Scammer(50)

“Are you okay?” I ask, standing a few feet away, trying to steady myself from the jarring wake-up call.

“I haven’t had a nightmare in a while,” he mumbles, more to himself than me. He turns off the light and slinks back down to the floor. I lie in bed, wrapping the blanket around me, and watch him sleep.





Seventeen




I wake up with a throbbing headache and Nick nowhere in sight. I must have passed out just before dawn. I take in his room and feel a rush of cold hit my skin, wishing it was all a dream. That I was back in my room, back with the girls, where I felt like I belonged.

On the desk is a black thermos and a handwritten note.

Here’s your tea. Meet me at Malcolm after class.



Class. Our midterm. Shit.

I click open the lid and take a sip. Black tea with a little sugar. Tastes awful.

I slip on my clothes from yesterday, struggling to decide what to do first. Go to the dorm and grab my stuff or go to Housing and report Devonte? Either idea makes my stomach tense. I don’t want the girls to get in trouble. But I also can’t fail this midterm. Most of all, I need my computer.

Dorm it is.

I open the door and cup my mouth to keep from screaming.

“Who are you?”

A guy is sitting against the wall across from the door, fighting to stay awake. His head jerks up and he rushes to his feet.

“Kwame.” He’s rail thin with a deep voice. “Nick sent me.”

“Sent you?”

“Yeah. Supposed to take you back to your dorm.”

Nick sent me an escort. That’s . . . nice of him.

“Are you a Kappa?” He’s not wearing any colors.

“Prospect,” he mumbles to the floor.

That means he’s trying to be a Kappa. One way to earn a spot is by doing favors. I sigh, grab Nick’s hoodie off the hook, flipping it over my hair.

“Well, let’s go.”



* * *




Kwame and I take the bus back to campus and walk up to Rockland Hall. I keep my head down, hoping to avoid eye contact. Hoping not to run into anyone. But the lobby is hectic as students head to morning classes. Loren and Kammy have class, so they should already be gone. The only person that could be left is Devonte.

In the elevator, I steel myself. If he’s home, what do I say? What could he say? Would he apologize? Could I forgive him?

I grip my keys as we walk down the hall. Kwame puts his hand out.

“Let me.”

I look at him, unable to hold back an impressed smile. He’s brave. Or has no idea what we’re about to walk into. We turn the corner, heading to the familiar last door on the left, my stomach and shoulders tightening with every step.

Kwame unlocks the door and steps in first. I take a hesitant step after him and am met with silence.

The living room is empty.

The unusual sight leaves me momentarily stunned. I pick up my chin and head for my bedroom. The door is still locked, the room as I left it. I rush to my desk and find my laptop still stored safely in the desk drawer. I breathe out with relief, quickly grab my duffel bag out of the closet, throwing some clothes, shoes, toiletries, and a flat iron in. The suite may be empty but not for long.

Once I’m packed up, Kwame grabs the bag and heaves it on his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he says, walking out, all business-like.

I take one final look at our suite, thinking of all our nights here, laughing, joking, learning. A warmth suddenly comes over me. The memories flooding back. I was a part of something beautiful. And now . . . I’m on the outside, cold and alone. I promised myself I would never feel this way again.

Was all this a mistake?

As we board the elevator, Kwame looks at me. “Nick said something about you needing to go to Student Housing.”

A knot forms in my throat the size of quarters.

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet.

“Uh yeah, I’ll go later. I gotta get to class. Midterm.”



* * *




I go through the motions of school in a hazy daze, carrying my life in a duffel bag, exhausted and destitute, the events of last night still replaying in my head, mostly with different scenarios. What if Nick hadn’t of come when he did? How far would the consequences have gone? How was I not prepared for that? How could I have been so stupid?

Stupid is the word that keeps playing on repeat.

Nick and I make plans to meet at the FUSA office. He has meetings until late. Not wanting to be in the frat house without him, I sit in the conference room, making a pathetic attempt to catch up on my assignments. I’m sure academic probation is waiting for me around the corner. If someone were paying attention to my transcript, from high school until now, they’d know something was going on.

As I sit shifting through my notes, I can feel eyes on me. Every time I look up, I’m met with curious stares before they flicker away followed by whispers. Maybe they’re friends with Devonte. Maybe they know what happened. I sink lower in my seat, my thoughts going dark.

What am I going to do, Kevin?

“Hey,” Nick says appearing at the conference room door in his frat jacket, and I sit up quick.

“Hey!”

He notices his sweatshirt with a raised eyebrow. “Did you go by Housing?”