“I’ll walk you to work.”
“No need,” she replies. “I’m fine.”
“I came back to—”
She cuts me off. “I’m fine, Christopher.”
“What’s up your ass?” I frown.
“Nothing,” she snaps as she walks faster.
I nearly have to run to catch up with her. “You really are living up to your name today.”
Her eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. “Go home . . . or back under the rock you just crawled out of.”
I frown. What?
She’s pissed at me.
We walk in silence for a while, her rushing and me half running to keep up with her. “Did something happen?” I ask her. “Have you had a blowup with one of the girls or something?”
“Oh my god . . .” She rolls her eyes. “Please go away. I am not in the mood for your player crap today.”
I stop on the spot. Huh?
Player crap . . .
The fuck is she talking about now?
A bus pulls up, and she climbs aboard. The doors shut in my face, and I watch it pull away.
Well, that was weird.
She really is fucking grumpy today. I turn and walk back to the hostel and into the room. Everyone is still half-asleep.
“Hey.” I flop down onto my bed.
“What the hell happened to you last night?” Bernadette asks.
“Too many things.” I sigh. I look over at her. “Is Hayden okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“She’s in the worst mood of all time.”
“No, she isn’t.” She shrugs. “Why do you say that?”
“She just seemed pissed at me, that’s all.”
“Oh.” She thinks for a moment. “Probably because of the girl you were with last night.”
“I wasn’t with a girl last night.”
“Yes, you were. We saw you.”
Horror dawns.
“I was with a girl . . . in front of Hayden?”
“Uh-huh. You walked down the street with her on your shoulders.”
“Oh . . .” I think for a moment. “But Hayden doesn’t like me like that.”
Bernadette raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
“I mean . . .” I frown as I contemplate the answer. “Pretty sure.”
“Men are so stupid.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re all over her all the time, man,” Basil says with his eyes still shut.
“Because we’re friends,” I splutter in my defense. “She’s not into me like that.”
Bernadette rolls her eyes and drags the pillow over her head. “This is why there’s no hanky-panky with roommates, you fucking idiot.”
“I’m not getting any hanky-panky,” I snap.
“Spooning is hanky-panky.”
I begin to hear my heartbeat in my ears, and I stand in outrage. I don’t have to lie here and take this. “In what universe is spooning hanky-panky?”