The Scammer(51)

“Didn’t have a chance. Midterms.” A believable lie.

He nods. “Okay.”

He grabs my duffel bag, hoisting it over his shoulder, and we head out. We jump on the bus toward the Kappa house in silence as I try to make sense of the sadness and confusion, rising above my anger. Here I am again at school, an outsider with no friends.

How did it happen so fast? How did our friendship evaporate like snow? What kind of spell did Devonte cast while I wasn’t around? Maybe that’s it. Maybe I shouldn’t have joined FUSA or taken fewer classes. I should have stayed close. Then, it wouldn’t have been me against them. It would’ve been us against him.

A few Kappas are in the living room, playing music, watching football with beers, some dressed in nothing but their boxers. They give me a curious once-over as I follow Nick upstairs, snickers trailing behind us.

Nick drops my bag in the corner of his room.

“I’ll be back,” he announces.

I sit at his desk, taking out my laptop, itching to open up my photo album, just to ground myself with the familiarity. But I can’t risk Nick seeing. Not that I think he would judge me, I just don’t know him that well.

That’s when I let out a delirious laugh. I’ve moved into a complete stranger’s place, in a frat house, in a city miles away from anyone who really knows me. My plans have gone so far left they almost seem right. But I’m not homeless. I still have a little time to turn this around.

I take out my books and start studying. An hour later, Nick returns with a steaming bowl in his hands.

He shoves it in my face. “Eat.”

I push the bowl away. “What is that?”

“Does it matter? Eat.”

The sharp, ragged knife of hunger twists.

“I can’t eat that,” I croak, holding back a gag.

“You can’t or you won’t? I saw that kitchen. I can tell you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll just take some tea.”

He screws up his face in disgust. “Tea? Look, just take a bite.”

I glare at him. “We’ve been here before, you know. You can’t force me to eat something I don’t want to.”

He stoops to my level. “I’d rather force you than watch you waste away. So what will it take for you to eat something that I’ve made specifically for you?”

Floored, I glance down at the bowl again.

He made this . . . for me?

A knock at the door makes me jump.

“HANG ON!” Nick shouts, placing the bowl on his desk and shoving me toward the bed. “Shhh . . . lay down. Stay quiet.”

“Seriously?”

“Just do it,” he hisses and covers me with blankets.

“One second,” he calls at the door, ripping off his shirt. I snap my eyes closed but I can still see his tan ripped body behind my lids. Nick steps out, having a mumbling conversation behind closed doors while a shiver runs down my arms at the idea of how much Devonte’s influence has penetrated.

Nick walks back in, turns off the light, and slides into bed next to me. His hand grazes mine and he flinches. I stiffen as we lie in silence, listening to the cars drive by.

“You’re not allowed to have girls over here?” I whisper.

He scoffs. “We’re not monks, of course we can have girls in our rooms.”

“Then, what’s the deal?”

“It’s . . . complicated.”

“I’m pretty smart.”

Nick shifts but keeps his distance.

“Having a girl here, once or twice, is cool,” he starts in a measured voice. “But after that, in order to stay here, overnight, you’d need to be my girlfriend. So . . . I told them you are.”

The fact takes a moment to process. “Seriously? You didn’t want to run that by me first?”

“You rather me tell them about the creepy cult in your dorm and get everyone kicked out?” he snaps. “And don’t think for one second I bought that bullshit story that you didn’t have time to go to Housing. You’re just scared.”

I swallow the acid on my tongue. Because he’s right. I am scared. For the plan to work . . . I need more time.

I pull the blanket up to my chin. “So why are we in bed together?”

Nick shifts again, this time nervously. “Sometimes . . . we go in each other’s rooms without knocking. And it would look weird if my girlfriend was sleeping on the floor or vice versa.”

I sigh, holding back a delirious smile. “Thanks. For everything.”

Nick flips on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Okay. I have a confession to make.”

I sigh. What else could go wrong. “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep without the TV on.”

I turn to look at him. “Seriously?”

He squirms a bit.

“That’s why I had a nightmare last night.”

“So why didn’t you turn it on?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. After the night you had, it didn’t seem right.”

Hmmm . . . that was pretty considerate. “Okay. So . . . turn on the TV.”

He jumps up, grabbing the remote, opening Netflix.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks.