Day 1

shadylane Good morning, Winterville U. Yes, you read that right. What, did you really think I’d move on just because we’re not in Silver Creek anymore? These last few months were only a hiatus. Sorry for enjoying the biggest parties of the summer and being too hungover to update you on anything—or finish unpacking. My roommate is about to kick me out and she doesn’t even know me yet. Give it a couple of months until she does—and then kicks me out for real.

In case you live under a rock or maybe moved out late, the students of Winterville threw a massive welcome party last weekend. The dorms threw smaller ones for their freshmen in dimly lit basements and pretentious little studios, while the frats spelled out opulence for the crowd. A couple of letters were missing, but still. It’s the thought that counts, right? They’re certainly not here for their spelling skills.

My attendance sheet, of course, has been spotless. If you so much as left your house last Saturday, chances are, we crossed paths. You might’ve only seen me briefly across the street, but I saw you. Did you notice that, when our eyes met, time stopped for a moment? You looked like you were about to tell me something… and just like that, the moment was gone; your friends’ jokes took your attention away. What were you going to say? I’m still wondering, still thinking about you. I do it far more often than you may think.

To the hermits who don’t leave their homes, here’s the lowdown on what happened with our beloved Silver Creek heroes: starting, of course, with Josh Woods. First off, he showed up without a date. Ladies, you know what that means! If you’re just craving heartbreak with a side of really good sex, this is your chance to get it. Personally, I’m on a diet. Also, I’m vegan. Bet you didn’t know that about me. He didn’t waste any time getting to dance with girls, though. For someone who showed up unaccompanied, he sure seemed to have a lot of company. By the looks of it, he’s not picking and choosing, so yeah, go for it! I bet he’ll barely look at you before kissing you on the lips.

Do you know if Jill Clarke attended? I mean this seriously; I didn’t see her all night. Did Ashley Ramirez party without her best friend? I guess there really is a first for everything. Clarke is to Ramirez what Jackson is to Woods, two sides of the same coin, inseparable. Why wasn’t she there? Has anyone seen her at all? It’s been two weeks, guys; I’m getting a little worried. Nobody leaves the spotlight. Don’t let her get away.

Slate was there, by the way. If you’re in Winterville right now, you’re not surprised to hear this. You’re probably going yeah, of course Slate was there; the guy is infamous. To which I’ll say, I know, right? He’s been to more parties than classes. Has anyone ever seen him study? Does he even go here? For all I know, he could just be living in a dorm without taking anything at all. Dream life, anyone?

I wonder who invited him. Despite what happened—which we will get into in a minute—he must be on good terms with someone, or just close enough to get an invitation. I really don’t think he crashed a frat party, I mean, he doesn’t look insane to me. He would’ve gotten kicked out. Do you think it was Lee’s new bestie? Oh, you haven’t heard? It looks like Daniels has been replaced. All those years standing by Lee have only gotten her pushed aside by none other than… some guy. Yeah, Lee’s new best friend is a guy. Even weirder is the fact Jackson doesn’t seem to have any problem with that. Why? The investigation begins…

Since we’re talking about those two already, let’s segue into our next topic: are Staby together this week? For the first time ever, the answer is—it’s complicated! I think the official answer is yes, though. While they didn’t spend too long together, they did hold hands on the dance floor once. I don’t know whose idea it was to enroll into college while in a relationship, but for a couple that’s always getting back together, maybe they should’ve waited a while longer. Isn’t college the perfect place for experimentation? I feel like, if this were the new guy’s fault, then Jackson would’ve already dealt with it, mainly wielding two tight fists, but that’s not what happened. We’ll get to my doubts in a moment.

Alright, let’s just get to what you’ve all been waiting for.

Highlights of the weekend: if you were there, I bet you’re wondering if I’m really about to leave out the best part. The answer is no, of course; I just love suspense! To the loners who don’t ever attend anything in their sorry little lives: about three hours in, there was a fight. No one was hurt, but there was a lot of vigorous pushing, mainly Woods pushing Slate. As usual, Jackson was there for the assist, while Kyller—in an unprecedented move!—decided to assist the underdog. Who knew she and Slate would’ve gotten along so well? The reason for this fight is a mystery; only the ones involved can tell you how it started. Personally, I just don’t think Woods likes the cut of Slate’s jib very much. Sometimes, it’s just that simple. Also, if Lee’s new friend really is the one who invited Slate, then his absence in this fight probably means they’re not very close.

Confession time! I’ve been withholding information from you. The only reason I have so many wild theories is because Jackson, Lee and her new friend are much closer than originally thought. They’ve been partying together. A lot, actually, and Slate’s been there every time. That makes the fight even weirder, because if Jackson and Slate are friends, then why didn’t Jackson side with him? Obviously, he wouldn’t have gone against his best friend, but did he have to join in? Couldn’t he have talked Woods out of it? It’s all very confusing. Lee seemed to have a problem with that too, because she approached him afterwards for a very serious talk. She clearly didn’t appreciate his involvement. I don’t know what they talked about exactly, but she left pretty soon afterwards, so it must’ve been a tough one. They might’ve arrived in a relationship and left single. Who knows.

Well, that’s all the time I have for today. There’s a lot more I want to share with you, but that’ll have to wait for next time; I gotta get back to it and unpack the rest of my personal garbage so my roommate won’t kill me. To the boys and the lesbians who are already picturing a smoking hot 25-year-old, well, you’re not too far off the mark. I do love looking at her in the mirror.

With love,

European Beech

Stacy

That was not the kind of post she’d expected to see on her feed first thing in the morning. While she’d never actually unfollowed the Shady Lane page, she didn’t think it’d be active ever again. It was one of those things that had fallen into irrelevance as soon as the graduation party had ended, buried and forgotten along with the rest of high school. No one cared about Silver Creek anymore. Not even Beech did.

Shady Lane wasn’t for everyone. It hadn’t been made for everyone; it was run by a student from Silver Creek High School who had started it as a sort of journal, a safe place where she could cuss out the teachers she didn’t like and gossip about the popular people in her grade. Notably, Josh—the former captain of the football team—and his friends, the other jocks, Toby included. She clearly hadn’t meant for it to grow to the proportion it had, but she hadn’t shied away from success either, even starting to act like the morning news at one point. What are my saplings eager for today? That was what she called her fans. It was disgusting.

Since most people in high school already talked about Josh and his friends anyway, Stacy hadn’t been too surprised to learn about this page. As time passed, it’d simply become annoying to have her life nitpicked and scrutinized by literally everyone, every day, all the time just because she was in a relationship with Josh’s best friend. If they had a fight, it’d be on Shady Lane the next day. If they got back together, it’d end up there too. If they talked to anyone outside of their circle, it’d be there. Everything was always on there. While it was handy to have someone keep such close tabs on her boyfriend, she wished they would’ve stopped there. Obviously, the one conversation she’d had with him last weekend, which hadn’t even lasted five whole minutes, was not only mentioned, but highlighted. Were they still together? She’d talked to him without a smile on her face. Well, their relationship must be on the rocks! Ugh, shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

The most annoying part was that none of her friends received the same scrutiny. There were comments on them, sure, but that was the extent of it. Where was Jill? No one knew. Oh, Ashley must’ve been so sad. Did you see Kyller defend Slate? How weird! She practically rolled her eyes. The only remark that had cut a little deeper was the accusation that Abby had been replaced as her best friend, which was complete fabrication. Abby knew it too. Comparatively, a much bigger portion of her life was on blast than her friends’, so they didn’t really care what Beech had to say; the comedy show seemed to star her and her only. What wacky shenanigans has Lee gotten herself into this time? Some days, it made her feel like the caricature of a caricature, barely real.

Saying she hated that Beech was an understatement.

“Oh my god.” Abby’s voice was somewhere between emotionless and full of contempt. Overall, she didn’t sound much different than usual. “Beech is still posting? That is so last semester.”

The layout of their room allowed the two of them to simply roll over and see each other in their beds, just across the length of a short nightstand. Abby lay on her back with her phone up, over her face. Since her body was still mostly under the sheets, her head and arms were pretty much all Stacy could see.

“This is so weird,” Stacy commented. “I guess she’s going to Winterville too.”

“Who isn’t?”

“I mean, a lot of people.”

“Literally everyone is going here.”

“Well, I mean… whatever. It’s just weird that she’s here too and that she, like—saw us last week! It’s creepy! She saw me dance with Toby!”

“Everybody saw that.” Abby passed her a lazy glance, on the verge of rolling her eyes. “Beech’s been stalking us for years. Are you really so surprised?”

No, she almost said. She’s been stalking me for years.

“You don’t get it. I thought she was gonna move on and, like… talk about other people now. I don’t know. Make some friends!”

One big, annoyed sigh left Abby as she got out of bed. She moved like a marionette on loose strings, lazy and careless, blanket spilling over the side of the bed, feet dragging across the floor. Her short, red hair stuck out in multiple directions, a messy bob half-tucked behind an ear.

Stacy propped herself up on a hand. “Abby, she was here last weekend,” she continued. “We saw her at the party. We might’ve even talked to her!”

“Yeah, and? Everyone from high school goes here now, genius.”

“Who do you remember attending that was from Silver Creek?”

Abby shrugged. One of her top’s spaghetti straps slipped off her shoulder, loose-fitting. Her shirt was all wrinkled, hiked just above the waistband of her gym shorts. She’d long stopped wearing matching pajama tops and bottoms, going for a messier, more casual look instead. To her, those matching sets were childish, but Stacy, in her pink and flowery silk set, had to disagree.

“I don’t know,” Abby mumbled, sliding the closet door open. “Us.”

“Okay, who else?”

An even more exaggerated shrug raised Abby’s hands, turning her around to give her friend a massively unnecessary reaction. Some of her hair even flowed into her face, eyebrows raising.

“I wasn’t paying attention, drama queen!”

Stacy rolled her eyes. Done with Abby’s attitude, she lay back down and turned on her side, so at least she’d face the wall.

“Slate must know,” she murmured, tapping on her phone.

“He doesn’t know anyone from Silver Creek, stupid.”

“Yes, he does; he knows everyone who went to the party, so he must’ve met everyone from Silver Creek by now. I just need…” She motioned vaguely. “A starting point; a list of names or addresses—something. Beech’s here and we can find her.”

A thumb tapped on Noah’s contact, pulling up the chat client.

“What’s new, Stace? This has been going on for ages. I’m not surprised she’s picking it back up after summer break, because she’s always done that. This girl has no life.”

Stacy hopped out of bed, suddenly brimming with determination—no, rage. “Well, she’s really getting on my nerves now!”

Abby’s lips wobbled, slowly breaking her stoicism to put a smile on her face. She shook her head. “Oh my god, you’re such a cutie. I just can’t get over your frilly pajamas; you’re like a little clown.”

“I’m very serious right now!” Stacy reiterated. “I’m gonna find this girl and I’m gonna ruin her life.”

Abby had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Then you’ll have some strawberry milk and a little nap.”

“Shut up!”

A pillow quickly flew across the room, aimed straight at Abby’s head. Her sharp reflexes turned her sideways, so it hit her shoulder instead. The grin on her face remained, laughter bubbling in her throat.

“You should be invested too!” Stacy continued. “She said we’re no longer best friends, like… that’s insane! That is so mean, Abbs!”

“Oh, she can think whatever she wants; we know that’s bullshit. Plus, Noah’s a dude; he’ll never be your best friend, not like me. That will literally never happen.”

Breath left Stacy in a huff, chest growing warm. It was very comforting to know she could always count on Abby, no matter what. Their personalities couldn’t be more different, yet they’d been glued to one another since the moment they’d first met. She honestly believed any two people could be soulmates, not just romantic partners, and while some spent their entire lives looking for their other half, she’d luckily found hers relatively early, in the seventh grade. When her mother wasn’t around, Abby was her rock. Her ability to see beyond the veil and focus on what truly mattered was, by far, her best quality. Stacy was constantly impressed by it. It helped keep her grounded, when she was so susceptible to flying off the handle already. A single post could do it. Abby was the voice of reason in a world of noise, the light at the end of the tunnel. Without her, Stacy would crumble like a house of cards.

The first thing she had to do, of course, was tell her parents about this. They’d been fighting this battle for almost four years now, just as invested in Beech’s identity as she was. Beech’s return was huge.

“Are you serious?” her mother, outraged, almost shouted. “Darryl, check your phone. I just don’t understand why law enforcement won’t take this case; it’s clearly cyberbullying!”

“This girl really doesn’t have anything better to do, does she?” her father added, perplexed. His voice sounded a little more distant, further in the background.

“I don’t need the police,” Stacy told them. A hand kept her phone up in the air while the other swung her backpack over a shoulder, dressed and ready to go. “I can find her. If she went to the frat, then I probably spoke to her, or at least, Toby did. Someone did. She’s close—I can unmask her.”

“Be careful, sweetheart; I don’t want you to get hurt. If you find her out, don’t engage; just let me know and we’ll take it from there. I’ll try and speak with the other parents again; they might know something we don’t.”

“I don’t think they do,” Abby interjected. Speakerphone made it easy for her to participate in the conversation, practically part of the family by now, Stacy’s unofficial sister. Anything that concerned Stacy, by extension, also concerned her parents and Abby. The same was true for Abby and her issues, although she was much better at dealing with those on her own than Stacy ever would be. “They did nothing when the whole Ethan thing happened and that was, like… way more important than going to a party and stalking us for the millionth time,” Abby explained. “They don’t care, Julia.”

“They do care, honey; they just don’t have any leads, but I have to keep them posted. We must stay united.”

“I don’t think it’ll help.”

“It’s better than doing nothing,” Stacy rebutted. “I know you don’t care, but I do.”

“She cares in her own way,” her mother commented.

“This is just so stupid.” Abby shook her head. Sitting at the vanity, she could focus on her makeup, eyes glued on her own reflection. “Of course nothing is gonna happen to Stacy; I’m right here. This is just a stupid troll with too much time on her hands.”

“Then we must give her something to worry about,” Julia added.

Toby

Dark eyes glanced him up and down, low with intoxication, burning with interest. The way he stood shaded part of his face, at a three-quarter angle, mostly turned toward the bar. Blond hair shone blue under the neon lights, longer on top, brushed to the side. He almost looked like somebody else.

Less than two feet away from him, the tide creeped over Toby’s feet and dragged him in; the air around him felt as heavy as the bottom of the ocean, crushing his ribcage in, indescribable. Something about him, his energy, the look in his eyes—it was as alluring as the shine of a lighthouse in pitch darkness, bait swimming just under the surface. It reeled Toby in, closer.

They moved in unison. As soon as he took a step over, Slate came round to meet him. Their faces almost touched, the ghost of Slate’s nose brushing him across the cheek. His lungs breathed in saltwater.

“Wanna meet me in the back?”

That whisper still haunted him. He’d gone to bed with it, cuddled it, violently kicked it out the next morning, then hesitantly welcomed it back. If only he knew he’d end up swallowing it whole. In broad daylight, he stared at himself hard in the face, unflinching. His pulse skipped—wanna meet me in the back?

He hadn’t meant for any of that to happen, the closeness, the grip around his ankles. He didn’t think Slate would’ve invaded his personal space like that, pulling him into the sand. They knew each other. Jesus Christ, he knew about Stacy. They’d partied with Stacy. Plus, Toby was straight. That was obvious.

His feet moved absently, taking him along the route he’d memorized over the last couple of weeks, a robot on autopilot—wanna meet me in the back? The glint in Slate’s eye was all his retinas could project onto the inside of his eyelids, darker than the night, different than any other time Slate had ever looked at him. It’d burned, too direct; so straightforward he’d almost misinterpreted it. He couldn’t believe it.

After all those nights hanging out together, going to party after party, dancing with Stacy, he’d thought… well, it didn’t really matter what he’d thought. Whether Slate had wanted him from the get-go, or had only just last weekend considered it, didn’t change the invitation—or the fact he’d found it a reasonable thing to ask. Had he done it because, really, he had nothing to lose, or because he’d thought something about Toby? That he’d actually have a chance. They didn’t know each other like that; it’d only been two weeks, and anyway, Toby hadn’t given him any reason to doubt his heterosexuality. He must’ve just been shooting his shot.

Why, then, couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Reliving that moment, over and over; the flame that had enveloped black eyes, their sudden closeness; the heat that had emanated from Slate’s body, drunk and warm; the hand on the inside of his elbow—my god, he’d almost fallen for it. Holy shit, he’d almost fallen for it. If Slate hadn’t gone for his ear, they would’ve met face-first with each other.

The thought alone froze his body two times over. He shut his eyes and squeezed, breathing in deep. No, erase that; think of something else, anything. If Josh hadn’t shown up just a second later, what then? Would Toby have been the one in the bathroom instead? His heart raced.

He really wished Slate hadn’t fucking seen him in the doorway.

“Wait.” A strong tug on his hand pulled him out of it, literally, figuratively. His eyes darted to his girlfriend’s face, peppered with sunlight. They stood under the shade of a tree two blocks from campus. “I’m meeting up with Slate before class.”

His lips moved, mouth suddenly dry. “Wh—what, why?”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” Her eyebrows furrowed delicately, lips pursing with discontent. The lip gloss she always wore shone with the movement. “You should be the one meeting up with him, you know. What you did was so mean. I still don’t understand what happened.”

“Nothing happened.” His heart jumped straight into his mouth. “I don’t… mean it like that, I mean, why—what are you talking to him about?”

“I need to ask him something.” She moved in close to whisper the next part. “I think he knows who Beech is.”

Oh.

Really? Suddenly, a breath left his lungs.

“You should come with me,” she suggested. “Kill two birds with one stone; apologize and get this over with. You know you’ll have to talk to him at some point, anyway.”

“No.” That left him so quickly that he had to do a double-take, wide-eyed. “No, I mean, I—well, I have practice and I don’t—you know, Josh; he would—I can’t be late. He would—he’d kill me is the thing. He’d kill me.”

She almost rolled her eyes. “I thought college would drive you guys apart, you know. Give you a little room to breathe, a chance to live your own life for once, doing what you want, not what he asks of you. He’s so clingy.”

“That’s not it; it’s just practice. He wants us to be the best.”

“He’s not your captain anymore. You don’t need to do everything he tells you to.”

“That’s not why I’m going to practice.”

“I’m obviously not talking about practice.”

She snatched her hand from his, turning a bit to the side. Her long, black hair slipped over a shoulder as she glanced about, no doubt mindful of their surroundings. At this point, it was impossible not to be; European Beech had forced them both to always be aware of themselves, especially in public. If they so much as raised their voices at each other, it was over.

“He’s overbearing, is what I’m saying,” she continued. “Everything is always about him. It’s like you can’t have your own life.”

Since she loved making everything about her, he could see how Josh’s strong personality might be a problem. In that aspect, they were both very similar.

“Josh is my best friend,” he defended. “He wants what’s best for me. He pushes me because he knows I can be better.”

“He pushes you because he’s a bully. He had no reason to treat Slate like that.”

Her voice bubbled with anger, but she very expertly kept it in. Even though they argued a lot, they hadn’t screamed at each other since sophomore year. This was what their fights looked like now, passive-aggressive whispers while he stared her in the face and she watched the people that walked in their vicinity. Can you please look at me?—that question had been asked so many times already that if he asked it again, he’d instantly put their relationship in a two-day break.

“Stace, can we talk about this later? I don’t wanna be late.”

“I don’t like the way he pushes you around.”

The weight of that sentence turned her around to glance at him, scowling.

“You deserve friends who love you,” she continued. There was a sudden softness in her voice now, eyes dropping with feeling. “Go hang out with Ethan for a change.”

He betrayed us!—the counterargument almost left him, shooting up his throat like a bullet through a barrel, but he didn’t let it out. Words shattered on his teeth and dissolved on his tongue, not worth it. She didn’t see Ethan’s actions that way at all; she thought he was justified. She thought he was smart! When she’d first found out, she’d told Toby he should’ve done the same! It was crazy, a different kind of betrayal. It seemed that, the more time passed, the clearer it was to him that Josh was his only real friend, the only one he could really trust. Still, for some reason, he just couldn’t see himself without her.

Keeping his silence, he let her kiss his cheek and turn to leave.

Noah

The words unable to message this contact shone white over a dark background. He wasn’t sure why he’d come back to this profile considering he’d been blocked, but a thumb swiped through the pictures anyway—a tall, large torso as strong as it was heavy, big arms, big pecs and a taut stomach, so firm that the softness of his skin had surprised him. He still remembered how it’d felt under his hand, palm dragging down. None of the pictures had a face, only body parts; sweatpants, black underwear, a hand over the crotch. He didn’t need a picture to remember the face, but it’d still be nice to have one.

Somehow, last weekend had both terrified him and turned him on like never before. The weirdest part of it was that, generally, he wasn’t into that kind of thing. He’d tried some of the stuff his partners liked, sure, but at the end of the day, he was a vanilla guy, plain and simple. He had chocolate milk instead of coffee and ordered burritos without hot sauce; he wasn’t into this, yet, somehow, he’d been very much into Saturday night. Looking back, he should’ve expected something like that anyway; both Fridays before had also been a little out of his comfort zone, just not too much. They had teetered the line and he’d kind of liked that. He supposed that was the reason why he liked dating apps so much, the possibility of danger. Besides the convenience, of course.

He was fully aware that no part of this was a game. They hadn’t roleplayed or done a scene; it was all real life. The anger had been real. The fear and panic had been very, very real. On second thought, maybe that was what had done it for him. He’d never met anyone with so much going on inside them, a battle of epic proportions that could hurt him by accident. Saturday had been an example of that, or almost. The grip on his arm hadn’t done anything for him; it’d been the look on Jack’s face, the fear underneath the rage. Now that—the fact he could’ve ruined this guy’s entire life with a single word—had turned him on like a switch.

If he thought about it for too long, he’d have a problem. Then again, he probably already had one, because maybe he wasn’t as vanilla as he’d thought.

“Noah.” Beth’s quiet voice pulled his eyes away from the screen and up at the doorway. She stood with a hand on the frame, blond hair falling in thick curls with the way she tilted her head, puffy and long. Two neat braids framed her face, baby hairs perfectly styled. “Stacy’s here.”

Damn, already? He wasn’t even dressed. “Thanks.”

A swift movement took him from the bed to the wardrobe, where he could attempt to throw something decent together. Out of eyesight, Beth walked away—the heels of her little doll shoes echoed across the hall, not too loud. Without giving it much thought, he picked out some black jeans, a white shirt and a hoodie. Wait, was this even his? He brought it close for inspection, lungs drawing in a deep breath. It didn’t smell like any of Slate’s colognes, but it didn’t smell like him either. What was this doing here? He turned it up and down, trying to hold it straight for a look. As soon as he could make out the design on the back, he noticed that yes, this was his; the nice hoodie he almost never wore, expensive, with the cool pattern inside the hood and the holographic lizard across the back. Why did it smell like a glass of champagne? The moment that thought crossed his mind, he remembered Friday night. Right.

Well.

Trying not to make a big deal out of it, he slipped the hoodie on and crossed the room. His hands fixed the hood around his neck, partially up his head, with most of his hair sticking out. Since he barely ever brushed it, hiding it like this made the mess look somewhat intentional.

The room he shared with Slate opened to the same bathroom they shared with two other guys just across the way. The layout here was really strange; the bathroom was only accessible through one of the two bedrooms, which made him believe it used to be part of a suite. Beth had her own. The only way from their rooms to the living room was through the study, since the floorplan wrapped around a garden. Not an inside garden, an outside one that happened to be located directly in the middle of the house. No roof over it. Very weird.

Near the bathroom door, he noticed the shower no longer ran and took it to mean Slate was done. He rapped on it. “Are you decent? I need to talk to you.”

A moment later, the door swung open. Slate was absolutely not done yet; his hair was still wet and he only had his boxers on, but Noah guessed that was decent enough. He was about two inches taller and very lean, with broad shoulders and a bit of muscle, strong arms, flat stomach. He was hot, but his personality kept Noah at bay. Something about him just wasn’t right and Noah didn’t want to find out what that was. Still, he couldn’t help glancing the guy down before looking him in the face. It was a bad habit.

“What is it?” Slate asked, rubbing a towel over his head. The way his words slurred together gave his lack of sobriety away, but then, when wasn’t he drunk?

“A surprise, actually. It’s waiting for you in the living room.”

Dark eyes passed him a quick, worried glance.

“It’s not Logan,” Noah quickly corrected. “I wouldn’t call that a surprise. It’s someone else.”

“Who?”

“Come out and see for yourself.”

With that, he turned and crossed the room again, this time for the door. The dampness from Slate’s shower was already expanding; if he stuck around for another minute, he’d start sweating, and part of him wanted to preserve this hoodie the way it was. No reason, though.

As soon as he stepped foot into the living room, Stacy came over for a hug. The force she used pushed him back a step, enveloped in the sickly-sweet scent of her perfume, just as overpowering as her presence. His arms closed around her midriff, hugging her back. Their minimal height difference put her face right in his neck, dark hair brushing him on the chin, always so soft. She was a field of roses at the height of spring.

“Hey, babe!”

“Hey, girlie.”

They briefly squeezed each other. When she let go, her hands immediately latched onto the edges of his hood, thumbs brushing over the lining.

“Oh my god, where’s this from? I’ve never seen you dress so nice. You always look like you just jumped out of a dumpster behind a Taco Bell or something.”

“Wow, really? That bad?” Her laughter put a grin on his face. It was, hands down, the nicest sound in the world. “Look at the back.”

A quick turn allowed her to see the lizard.

“This is so cool. Where did you get it? It kind of looks like merch from a concert, like those house music ones, you know. Did you see Deadmau5 without me?”

“So do I live in a dumpster or behind a white picket fence? Make up your mind.”

“Oh, I get it! You stole this from a homeless guy who stole it from a rich boy first.”

Snickering, he playfully shoved her on the shoulder. “I got it online, idiot. It wasn’t cheap, but it wasn’t that expensive either.”

She slapped his arm in retaliation, grinning wide. “Are you sure this lizard isn’t referencing something? What if someone stops you on campus and says they’re a big fan of Kippy the Lizardman? What are you gonna do?”

“Kippy the Lizardman?”

“I don’t know! What if it’s like, a really obscure band album?”

“Then I guess I’m Kippy the fucking Lizardman now.”

Her laughter was bubbly, a little giggle straight from the chest that gradually grew into a hiccup. She always covered her mouth with a hand, as if her smile wasn’t the whole reason Noah tried so hard to entertain. A light blush dusted her cheeks, similar to the eyeshadow she usually wore, finished with a black wing. Her nails, long and manicured, were light pink today, matching the rest of her outfit. Even her rings matched the silver of her necklaces, thin and delicate.

Once again recomposed, she glanced over his shoulder, deep into the hallway. The delight on her face told him Slate had probably just shown up. Confirmation came soon thereafter, when she called out his name and went over to meet him. Noah turned to see them hug hello.

“You’re the only one who can help me with this,” she started. “Do you remember the girls that came to the party last weekend? I’m looking for someone.”

“The girls?” An exasperated huff escaped through Slate’s nose, eyes drifting up at the ceiling. “Shit, I don’t know. Besides you and the others?”

“Yes, besides me and the others! If I was looking for one of my friends, I’d just text her!”

“What’s her name?” Noah asked.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. You spent, like, the whole time with us, so you probably didn’t meet her, but Slate was all over the place. I’m sure he met her. She’s from Silver Creek.”

Slate’s eyebrows drew into a squint. “You really expect me to remember not only a girl, but her name too? Are you high? All I remember is the bathroom stall.”

A groan left Stacy’s throat.

“Didn’t you guys have a guest list?” Noah cut in. “Her name’s probably on there.”

Stacy slowly turned to look at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my god, you’re a genius. I bet Josh has it.”

That name gave him a small heart-attack, eyes bulging for just a moment—he wasn’t expecting to hear it. No one here was friends with the guy. Stacy immediately pulled her phone out and began fiddling with it, making it clear that wasn’t going to be a topic for discussion. Good; a deeper breath allowed Noah to calm down. Her sudden disengagement from the conversation left him and Slate staring blankly at each other, unsure how to proceed. They ended up giving each other strange looks with raised shoulders. Was the conversation over? Just before Noah could ask, Stacy glanced up from her phone.

“Oh, by the way, I’m so sorry about Toby; I have no idea what happened. You know him; he isn’t usually like that.”

“It’s whatever,” Slate mumbled.

“No, I’m serious. I talked to him. He’s gonna apologize.”

Slate shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter. His boyfriend was in a mood, that’s all.”

That set Noah’s jaw. While he knew Slate was just joking, that was still unpleasant to hear. He kind of wished Slate would’ve used any other word and that the description wouldn’t fit those two so well. The fight had been upsetting for more than just one reason, and more than just one person, even if he’d never bring it up. He already knew talking about it would be fruitless. It didn’t matter.

“Josh is always in a mood; don’t waste your time on him.” Stacy waved dismissively. “I expected better from Toby, though. He knows you. You’re friends. I don’t know why he snapped.”

Slate glanced off, clearly disinterested in the topic. Even though Stacy wasn’t done with it yet, she decided to let him have it, allowing the conversation to lull to a halt. Noah supposed this was really just between Slate and Toby, so prolonging his discomfort wouldn’t get them anywhere. Stacy must’ve noticed this too.

“Well, thanks for listening, but I gotta get going,” she spoke while taking Noah’s hand. Her free one waved Slate goodbye. “See you later, handsome!”

The walk from his dorm to the campus wasn’t very long, since he lived only a couple of blocks away, like most people. Stacy’s sorority was much further away, actually; if he were to connect those three dots on a map, they would make an obtuse triangle with the widest angle over the campus. It was easy to go from either one of their dorms to class, while visiting each other took a bit more effort. If she’d come all the way over here, then this search for a nameless girl must be really important.

She swung their hands as they walked, acting like he was her boyfriend. She always did that; it was weird, but he didn’t really comment on it, since she was always very physical with everyone. He’d just never known anyone like this before. When they’d first met, one of the very first things she’d ever said to him was how handsome he was before inviting him out to lunch. At the time, he’d had no idea about Toby; he’d totally thought he’d just scored without doing absolutely anything, but then he met her girlfriends and quickly sewed their conversations together—she had a boyfriend and thought he was gay. While that wasn’t entirely wrong, she was only half right. The way she acted around him kept him from clarifying that though, in case it made things weird. He really wasn’t trying to piss off her very big and very strong partner. Plus, he could call her hot all he wanted with no consequences. It wasn’t so bad.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked.

“The biggest coward on planet Earth. She hides behind this online persona and puts my life on blast like she owns it. I just found out she’s going to Winterville, so I know I can find her. She’s here somewhere. Josh’s getting the guest list for me.”

He tried not to let that name choke him speechless. “So she goes on anon and bullies you?” he asked, cool despite the hammering in his chest.

“No, she has an account where she talks about us. She mentioned you too. Soon enough, she’ll be talking about you full-time.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my friend. Everyone who gets too close gets a feature. Don’t worry, though; she has no dirt on you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you haven’t done anything scandalous.”

Well, that just sent shivers down his spine. He swallowed his heart down his own throat. “You said she was at the party?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. If this stalker got a hold of what he’d done, his life was quite literally over.

“Yeah. She posted about it.”

Oh god. His breathing ceased for a moment, blood running cold. “Can I read it?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll send it to you, but it’s just trash. It always is.”

Toby

There was nothing really wrong with Christian; he was smart, funny and a great tight end. Good roommate too, always cleaning up after himself, proactive and engaged in the busy life of the dorm. It was just that, when he was around, blue eyes watched him a little too closely. His mere presence was enough to suction-cup all of Josh’s attention, leaving the rest of the world to burn. Toby included. Josh laughed at all of Christian’s jokes and seconded all of his suggestions without a single thought. With Toby, however, laughter had grown scarce and suggestions were getting scrutinized. Why didn’t they go to that other place instead, that Christian had recommended? And why couldn’t they watch that other movie, the one Christian liked? And couldn’t they just hang out in Christian’s room? It was bigger, anyway.

Everything was about Christian now. Toby had grown up with Josh, his neighbor since they were seven, yet Christian was all he cared about. Sure, Christian was new and Josh was probably just excited to get to know him better, but it’d been two weeks already. Could they please spend a single day without Christian fucking White around? Ever since Ethan’s betrayal, things between them had only gotten better, brothers in arms, real friends who didn’t let each other down. It’d strengthened their bond like nothing else. Then, Christian had come along, and suddenly, they were a trio again.

Summer break had ended far too quickly.

The field was already full by the time he arrived; some of his teammates stretched, some ran laps, others kicked balls as far as they could and so on. Naturally, he found Josh and Christian training together. What surprised him was that, when Josh’s eyes fell on him, they didn’t leave. His attention was seized. Toby hadn’t been able to do that in a very long time. It lightened the load over his shoulders, lips almost curling into a smile. Approaching, however, he soon realized there was no reason to rejoice; the scowl on Josh’s face said everything he needed to know.

“What’s this thing about you and Slate being friends, huh? Partying together? I thought last weekend was the first time you’d talked. Did you fucking lie to me?”

Toby froze three feet away from the other two. His first reaction was absolute shock that Josh could’ve figured that out despite how careful he’d been, but then European Beech came to mind—she must’ve posted about it. Somehow, she knew, and now everyone else did too. Flames quickly erupted within his chest. Stacy’s rage wasn’t unfounded; he felt it too. “No! Jesus, you—you don’t believe that, do you?”

It was a weak attempt to get Josh back. It didn’t work, of course; Josh just glared at him, eyebrows furrowing even further. That was an answer in itself.

“We’re not friends; we just sometimes end up going to the same places,” he explained. “He’s friends with Noah, man. Sure, we run into each other, but we don’t hang out. I didn’t lie to you; last Saturday was the first time we’d actually talked. I obviously don’t know him.”

“So you had talked.”

“Not really.”

The glare sharpened.

“Wh-what do you want me to say?!” The pitch of his voice rose as his heart rate quickened. “He’s—he’s Noah’s friend and Noah’s friends with Stacy, so when we go out, she—well, she invites them both and, I mean, what do you want me to do? We don’t talk, but you know, he’s there. He just… does his own thing. I don’t know. Last Saturday was different; he’d never done anything like that before. It was weird.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, TJ. What are you, a doormat?”

“No—!”

“Does your girlfriend know she’s making friends with a bunch of creeps? Does she even know what he tried to do to you? He was about to commit a fucking crime; I’d say that’s pretty goddamn serious! She’s been going around trusting total strangers like she knows who they are when it’s pretty fucking clear that she doesn’t!”

“She doesn’t know and I don’t want her to. She’s obviously not doing any of this on purpose. Noah’s just the first person she met and, you know, people like him all kind of band together. She’s not close to Slate at all; he only comes with us ‘cause he’s a party guy. We’re not mingling, and listen, he didn’t do anything, so it’s fine. Just forget about it.”

Josh stared at him. “How is it fine? How was any of that fine?! Do you not care or did you want him to grab your face and kiss it, huh? Maybe I should’ve let him take you to one of the bathroom stalls. Were you hoping to get a good, hard look at his cock?”

Toby rolled his eyes. Christian, in the meantime, scoffed out a laugh.

“I’ll talk to her, okay?!” Toby’s tone was loud and sharp, heat coming up his neck. “Honestly though, you’ve got nothing to worry about; Slate’s not gonna hang out with us anymore and Noah’s like… barely gay, so whatever. It’s fine.”

“Barely gay? Are you sure you’re not describing yourself? I mean, who knows, maybe if I shove my dick down your throat, you’ll like it. Do you suck on the balls too?”

The fire in his chest burned it all to a crisp, leaving only a pit behind. Goddamn this whole shit to hell. “Fuck you,” he spat. The heat that emanated from his face completely nulled any impact that might’ve had, giving Josh further ammunition to take him down. The sharp smirk on Josh’s face said it all. 

Noah

Stacy really wasn’t lying when she’d said Shady Lane was trash; this post almost didn’t bring anything new to the table. He’d been there last weekend, hopping from one party to the other. Accompanied by Stacy and her friends the whole time, he’d seen everything mentioned here. It was interesting to learn just how much history they had with each other, though. European Beech talked like she knew them well. One thing she did teach him, though, was that Stacy and Toby’s relationship wasn’t rock solid all the time. They’d been together these last couple of weeks, so he’d had no idea. Part of him wondered if Stacy’s close friendships had anything to do with that.

The fact European Beech didn’t mention what he and Jack had done led him to believe he was fine, that she didn’t know. For now, at least. He was really lucky to have Stacy bring this up when she did, or he’d never know to start being more careful. He had been anyway, but only for Jack’s sake. Other than that, he didn’t think he’d have any reason to keep it a secret. Now, it was far too late; he was already involved. God, what would Stacy’s reaction be if she knew? Or Toby’s, for that matter. Even worse, Jack’s. He actually didn’t even want to think of that. His life was on the line.

Wait, why was he still calling him that? Jack wasn’t his name; he’d lied about that too. He’d lied about everything, or almost everything. The only truth Noah could recall was the football team, considering the post seconded that. It was such an easy lie to catch too; why hadn’t he thought of fact-checking it? Jackson was how he’d introduced himself—call me Jack. Was that because he didn’t want Noah to be moaning his best friend’s name? He understood lying to remain anonymous, but stealing someone else’s identity—his best friend’s identity—was just wrong. It implicated Toby, but maybe that was the point. Not only did it sound real, it was real, and if anyone happened to look it up, they’d find a face to put to the name. Unbelievable.

By all means, he should punch him, but when he saw him that afternoon, every thought in his mind simply left it. They both stopped in their tracks, staring at each other, wide-eyed and mute. It felt as if lightning had just crashed onto them both, held still by a single glance, debris in the eye of a storm. It shook and fried every one of his bones, rooting him to the ground, lungs failing to move. He didn’t know Jack went here.

In a moment, the hallway emptied out. The strawberry blond of Jack’s hair was much easier to see under bright, white lights—Noah didn’t even know he was blond, or that his eyes were blue. They’d only met in dimly lit places before, under the cover of darkness and a hint of neon. Did he have freckles? Noah wasn’t close enough to tell. Jack stood with both hands in his pockets and a pair of sunglasses on his head, poking out of his hair. He’d styled it differently today, up in spikes rather than messily brushed over his forehead. Was this how he usually did it? He’d been so messed up at the party that Noah wasn’t even sure how he’d looked before attending. Maybe he was always this neat, but even if that was the case, it didn’t seem to last very long.

Jack recovered from the shock first, turned around and quickly walked into the classroom—the back of his jersey read Woods in big, thick, blue letters. Lying right out in the open, huh. Instinctively, Noah’s eyes glanced at the sign on the door—104, Prof. Johnson. So, math class. His feet slowly began moving again, walking down the hallway, taking him toward the stairs. Jack had math class at one in the afternoon. If Noah hadn’t forgotten his notebook upstairs, he would’ve never known. He had math early in the morning; it was only a handful of hours that separated them. Shit, they could’ve studied together. Would Jack still have matched with him then? Probably not.

His hand barely touched the railing, fingers ghosting over glossy black metal—he should warn him, right? Tell him European Beech was back and that, sooner or later, she’d catch wind of their involvement. Like Stacy had said, it was only a matter of time. Wasn’t he scared? He should grab him by the arm just how Jack had done last weekend and corner him for a change. His heart raced—okay, if he did that, then Jack would simply deck him in the face and end it all right there. They’d never see each other again. His feet stopped moving, standing quietly in the middle of the staircase. No, they’d continue to see each other all the time, but they wouldn’t see each other. It’d be worse. He’d have to take this to the grave without even getting to reap its benefits; he’d only be doing himself a disservice. So, gentle, then? Catch Jack by himself and very gently warn him. It’d freak him out all the same, but in public, it’d keep him from lashing out. Yeah, that seemed fine. Now he only had to figure out how to do this word-for-word.

Stacy

For as much animosity as there was between her and Josh, when it truly came down to it, neither one of them would ever say it to the other’s face. It was all fair game while they had their backs turned, but the moment they were forced to interact in some way, all crudeness vanished. It’d started with him, really; as soon as she’d started dating Toby, he’d dropped the attitude and become a perfect gentleman. She knew what it meant, what he was doing; erasing the past for something new. It’d set a precedence for every interaction that had followed. It was clear that he was thinking of Toby, that this was his way of showing he wanted their relationship to work out, so she did the same in return, not mistreating him one bit. Still, it’d been a strange shift. Her eyes used to linger just a little too long on his face, choking on a million questions and what could’ve been, but ultimately, she’d kept her silence; it didn’t matter. They were never themselves again and that was fine. So, when she texted Josh about the list, he said he’d get right on it.

“Have you guys seen Jill?” Ashley’s voice seized the group’s attention. The monotone she always used, laid-back and relaxed, made it difficult to tell how she felt about things sometimes. It made it seem like she didn’t care when she actually, really did. Stacy had to look for emotion in her face, her downcast eyes and pouty lips, how timidly she held herself. At six one, Ashley was a mountain of a woman, easily towering over almost everyone, yet she managed to look extremely small right now, sitting with her shoulders drawn together.

“The other lesbian?” Noah joked.

That word snapped Ashley’s attention over to him, eyes wide, glued on his face. Nothing left her mouth though, despite the fact she clearly had something to say.

“She’s not a lesbian!” Stacy shoved him on the arm. “Only some girls with short hair are lesbians, dummy.”

“She has a sidecut, Stace.” Another shove. “Okay, okay, you’re right; some are bisexual!”

“Oh my god, shut up!” She laughed. 

“That explains why I kept getting hit on last weekend,” Abby cut in. “I never got the memo; I thought short hair just meant you were a badass bitch.”

“It does,” Tiffany quipped in.

“Oh, definitely. It’s just that most of these badass bitches are also lesbians, but you don’t have to be a lesbian to be a top,” Noah explained. “You’re living proof.”

“What?”

Noah motioned toward her. “C’mon, Abbs, look at you. You’re a classic man-eater, a dick-biter, you know. Men are scared of getting too close, but lesbians? Oh, you’re a lesbian magnet. No, you’re a bottom magnet. My mistake.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about right now.”

“He’s right,” Tiffany added. “You’re a woman in charge and some people love that. Lesbians mostly, but some guys like it too. It’s not very often that a girl gets to look as unashamedly fierce as you do and also call the shots. Tell me Ethan doesn’t love it when you order him around.”

“I mean, yeah…” Abby glanced off in thought. “I guess I never thought about that. Man, I have to watch more porn; I had no idea that was a thing.”

“Oh, it is a thing.”

“Trust me, it is.”

Both Noah and Tiffany spoke over each other. It was very curious to see just how often they agreed on things, always on the same wavelength. Not only did they listen to the same kind of music, but they also seemed to know about the same niche stuff. Every time one of them made mention of some extremely specific part of the internet, the other knew about it too. Their feeds on social media must be fairly similar. It was Tiffany who had first accepted him into the group, actually. A new member hadn’t joined in so long that Stacy had honestly thought she’d have to keep Noah separate from the others, in a different social circle altogether. She’d been very glad to see all of them accept him.

“Why do you think I’m a lesbian?” Ashley’s voice was quiet, the same softness she always used. “I don’t have short hair.”

“Oh, ’cause you’re on the volleyball team.”

“It’s pretty simple,” Tiffany began. “Muscular and competitive women are usually lesbians. I bet that, if you ask around, half the team is sapphic.”

“Really?”

“Not only sapphic, but tops too,” Noah clarified.

“Anyway, Ash,” Kyller interrupted, “did Jill not come to class today?”

Ashley simply shook her head.

“To be fair, she’s been really cryptic today,” Tiffany commented. “I heard her in her room, but when I called, she didn’t answer. I told her that if she didn’t come out, I’d go by myself, and so I did. I just didn’t think she’d skip class altogether. I thought she would just like, get here late.”

Not everyone lived in the sorority. Stacy wasn’t sure what had happened between the last day of high school and now, but for some reason, Tiffany and Jill had ended up in a dorm by themselves. She hadn’t really asked about it, because Jill had been in such a bad mood lately, but from what Abby had told her, Tiffany had missed the application date, while Jill was a big mystery. She hadn’t been herself all summer.

In response to Tiffany’s remark, Ashley’s eyebrows furrowed. The brim of her snapback cast a sideways shadow over her forehead, bangs trapped in place. She stared at her phone screen, thumbs idling by the edges. “I think she’s mad at me. She hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault she didn’t make it onto the team,” Tiffany defended. “College volleyball is hard; not everyone will get picked. She just needs to get over it.”

“Is that really why she’s so upset?” Abby, as usual, was between disgusted and condescending. “If she wanted to get picked so badly, then she should’ve stopped sucking and trained harder, like everyone else did. Why do you think both Josh and Toby got onto the football team? Those two are gym rats.”

“Well, I mean, of course she’s upset,” Stacy jumped in. “Ash made it and she didn’t. It sucks. Yeah, she should’ve trained harder, but maybe she did all she could and still didn’t make it. Either way, it just sucks.”

“Yeah, it does, but she shouldn’t be taking it out on Ash when Ash’s only fault is being a better player than her. It’s stupid.”

“No, I agree. I’m just saying I understand why she’s feeling this way. Obviously, the way she’s treating Ash isn’t right.” Stacy turned to Ashley, who sat on her right. “I think you two should try and talk it out.”

There was no response from Ashley. Her thumb pushed and pulled on the screen, moving the chat log up and down. It was strange to see them not talk for this long, considering they were probably the closest friends in the group. Summer break had pushed Jill away from everyone. Stacy had wanted to ask her about it, but they’d never been very close to begin with; something about Jill just kept her at bay, intimidating. It wasn’t just her height. If even Ashley wasn’t able to get her to open up, however, then it'd be fruitless to send anyone else to her door. Stacy would have to come up with a different plan altogether.

Toby

He kind of hated Slate. Yeah, he hated him for having said that. What was he, insane? What did he think he’d get out of it, even? That Toby would’ve been the one against the wall? Fuck that. Fuck him. What was his problem? Jesus Christ, what was his problem? He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. Slate was fucking sick.

The approach had been so crude, so raw; anyone could’ve heard them. If he’d gone straight for Toby’s face, everyone would’ve seen it. Josh would’ve seen it. Then again, if he’d asked the question in a desolate part of the party—an empty bathroom stall with the door hanging open—would the answer have changed? Would anything have changed, or would Toby have been against the wall anyway? He couldn’t shake this weird feeling in his chest. It didn’t come from the question; he just hated that he wasn’t sure he would’ve turned Slate down. Now, two days later and sober, yes, he’d absolutely turn him down, but last weekend, something just hadn’t been right. Part of him blamed the look on Slate’s face—the glint in his eye, burning—but he knew it was because he hadn’t expected it. He’d trusted Slate to get close and that trust had been broken. He could never let his guard down around Slate again.

His fist knocked on the door, heavy. It was strange to be here on a Monday afternoon. The outside of Slate’s dorm now reminded him of Friday nights, sneaking out with beers in hand to a party or three, Stacy by his side. Her absence weighed. A deep breath filled his lungs, heart pounding.

The door cracked open to show a girl behind it, someone he’d never seen before, who hadn’t been there last weekend. She peered out cautiously, one eye within view—his harshness knocking must’ve scared her. He immediately straightened up, eyebrows losing the scowl from a moment ago.

“Hey, I’m Toby, Stacy’s boyfriend.” He reached a hand for her to shake. As she did, the door opened further to let her arm through. “Sorry for the ruckus. I’m here to see Slate, if he’s in.”

“Sure, I’ll get him for you. Would you like to come in?”

His first instinct was to say no and wait out here, but then the content of their conversation reached him. Yes, it’d be better to talk about this within an enclosed space where the neighbors couldn’t overhear. She took a step back to let him in, and as they passed each other, he thanked her. The door clicked softly.

From the looks of it, he could guess this was the living room. The TV gave it away. While the furniture wasn’t anything to write home about, what caught his attention was this massive garden just behind the console table. A row of windows lined the back wall, showcasing it. Even though sunlight couldn’t filter in this late into the day, it was still bright in the room, curtains pulled open. The girl’s shoes echoed quietly as she disappeared behind a door.

This was weird. He knew why he was here and he had to do this, but it was still strange to have come all this way on his own. It wasn’t like he’d come in secret either; Josh knew about it. At first, he’d been concerned, offering to come along, but Toby’s insistence on doing this by himself had done a complete 180 on the undertone of the conversation. Slowly, a muted smirk had tugged onto the corners of Josh’s lips, eyes sharp with the devil in his irises—try not to choke on his cock, it’s bad manners. His throat closed, jaw setting. Goddamn him.

The silence in the dorm fell over his ears like a blanket, thick—where was everybody? Realistically, this was better for him, but he couldn’t help wondering. It was so different from his dorm, where a TV and loud chatter always filled the first floor with noise. He knew Noah was out with Stacy, but what about everyone else? This place was far too big for only three people to live in.

Footsteps from the same direction. He turned expectantly, heart picking up the pace again. When the same girl from before showed up, a breath left his lungs. She stopped by the door, hands over the front of her dress. “He’ll be here in a moment,” she told him. “He’s just woken up.”

“Sorry about that.” As soon as those words left his mouth, he wondered why he’d said them. He wasn’t sorry for inconveniencing Slate in any way. Not to mention the man was asleep in the middle of the afternoon; there was no way Toby would’ve known that. “What’s your name? I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, my apologies! I’m Elsbeth, but please call me Beth. I’m Slate’s roommate.”

“Nice to meet you, Beth.” He glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“I’m afraid I’m the only one awake at this hour. This dorm is far more active in the evening.”

“How many people live here? I only know a couple.”

“Yes, right. Other than Slate, Noah and I, you’re only missing two more. One of them is sick and the other…” Her head cocked aside, eyes up with thought. “Well, he’s probably taking a nap. I suppose I’m the only one who truly prefers the solitude of my own studies, so the quiet doesn’t bother me.”

“That’s fine. I think… balance is what matters. Can’t have too much of anything.”

“You’re right. I do have the habit of forgetting to have fun.”

Suddenly, Slate showed up behind her. Their conversation must’ve masked his footsteps. His presence shocked Toby into a straighter posture, eyebrows high up on his forehead. A hand touched Beth on the shoulder, so she’d move from the door and let him through.

“It was nice meeting you, Toby,” she spoke around a smile, hand waving as she stepped back into the doorway.

“Yeah, you too,” he mumbled, eyes stuck on Slate, the mess on his head. If Beth hadn’t told him Slate had just jumped out of bed, he would’ve known anyway. A hand came up to comb through it; the stare must’ve made Slate self-conscious. Either that, or he’d simply forgotten to brush it. The blond of his hair was a different shade than Josh’s, lighter, much closer to white. It was longer too, shaggy where Josh’s hair was always neatly styled.

“I already told Stacy you don’t have to apologize. It’s fine. I really couldn’t care less.”

Oh right, Stacy wanted him to do that. He’d already forgotten about it.

“I’m not here for that,” he defended. “It wasn’t even my fault. I mean, I am sorry, you know. I’m sorry it happened, but Josh—you know it was Josh. It was all him. I didn’t—I was, I mean, I was there, but you know. You saw it. I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s extremely generous, considering you were on his side the entire time.”

“Of course I was; I’m not fucking crazy. That—whatever; it doesn’t matter. I didn’t, like, help, though. You know that. You know what happened.”

As he talked, the look on Slate’s eye sharpened in a very distrustful way, all-knowing, far too sly. It reminded him of last Saturday, even though it had nothing to do with it. The energy here was completely different. He just couldn’t seem to go ten minutes without thinking about it.

“You’re right; I do know what happened,” Slate claimed. “Do you?”

Suddenly, Toby fell silent. While he was probably one of the only people who knew what had truly transpired, he found himself curious to hear what Slate had to say. Something about it just didn’t feel right.

“What happened was, I really pissed you off when I hit on you. I bruised your little ego, embarrassed you in front of your friends, so when your boyfriend came over, you told on me. Next thing I knew, he was shoving me and making accusations.”

“That’s not it at all!” Toby practically shouted. “You—you saw him! I didn’t say a single goddamn word, or he would’ve—”

“Killed you?”

They held the stare.

“No,” Toby very carefully answered. “He would’ve killed you. He was only acting that way because of the stunt you pulled. We could’ve talked in private, but you just had to be bold! Right there, in front of him! What were you thinking?!”

“Well, clearly, I thought you were alone.”

“Where Josh is involved, I’m never alone. Then Kyller showed up and you just had to keep pushing. Why didn’t you just leave it alone? You were trying to piss him off. Well, it worked. We both saw how that turned out, so congratulations. That’s what happened.”

Slate smiled. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself. I mean, what you’re really saying is you didn’t mind that I hit on you, only that I did it in front of him. Shit, you might’ve even liked it—did you?”

Dark eyes widened under a hard scowl. “Are you… fucking insane? I don’t… want you anywhere near me. I actually—I came here to say that.”

“You came all this way just to say that.”

“Yeah, it’s—god, it’s important. You know it is. What you did was—it was fucked up. You know Stacy, dude; why would you—how could you ask me something like that? I mean, fuck, what if I’d said yes?” His heart beat loudly in his ears, sweat budding on his forehead. Slate, in the meantime, simply raised his eyebrows. “What then?” Toby pushed, because the question had been stuck in the depths of his mind for far too long.

“I would’ve taken you somewhere else.”

Breath was virtually nonexistent in his body. He breathed, yet air somehow never reached his lungs. “You mean like… that stall?”

Slate shrugged. “Unless you were looking for something else.”

“What about Stacy?”

“She was the last thing on my mind. Didn’t see her all night.”

“You don’t—you don’t care? You don’t care that I would’ve cheated on her?!”

Blond eyebrows continued to rise. “That’s what you’re worried about? Hypothetical unfaithfulness? Jesus, Tobe… I had no idea you were so Christian.”

“I’m not fucking Christian. I just… can’t believe you don’t give a shit about her. You couldn’t care less. She means nothing to you!”

“That’s not true. Just because we’re not close doesn’t mean I don’t like her. She’s nice.”

“Stop talking to her. Stop fucking seeing her. I don’t… want you near her anymore.”

“C’mon, Tobe—”

“No! Stop seeing her or I’ll fucking tell Josh.”

Dark eyes dulled. “Can’t get the job done yourself?”

“It’s not a one-man job.”

Slate tilted his head, considering it. His posture was very stiff, eyes off somewhere over Toby’s shoulder. His jaw tensed. “I’m sorry for saying that.” His eyes found Toby again, voice much softer than before, meaningful. “I should’ve realized Josh was close and I should’ve thought about Stacy. I was so lost in the moment that I didn’t consider her feelings at all. When I saw you at the bar, it was like… I completely forgot we knew each other. Seriously. All I wanted was to get my hands on you.”

An invisible noose fell around Toby’s throat and choked it. He swallowed hard, dry.

“I’m sorry; I’m a really shitty friend,” Slate continued. “I won’t say anything like that again. I mean, you’re right; it was fucked up.”

“You…?” Words vanished from his mouth. Slate wanted to touch him? Slate wanted to touch him, to put his hands on him. His mind, stuck on those words, couldn’t think of anything else. The implications prickled his face. “Can we make a deal?” He spoke without consulting his brain first, currently out of order. Slate’s pensive silence allowed him to continue. “If you stop talking to her, I’ll—I’ll come to you.”

Blond eyebrows furrowed very slightly. “Is Josh giving you trouble?”

“Don’t worry about him, just… stop seeing her. It’ll make my life easier.”

“If you’re in trouble for hanging out with me, then ideally, I should stop speaking to both of you.”

“Can you do that? I mean, we won’t… really stop talking, just—”

“Not in public. Yeah, I get it. I’ve done this before.”

They held the stare. It really did feel like there was no air left in the room; Toby slowly suffocated. “So?” he asked. “Do we have a deal?”

The ghost of a smile tugged on Slate’s lips. “Yeah.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Are you breaking up with her?”

“What?”

“If you’re so upset about hypothetically cheating on her, I can’t imagine you’d actually do it.”

His lips pursed. He couldn’t possibly imagine his life without her, but they had gone on breaks before. This could be one of them. He only needed an evening, after all. Reluctantly, his head bobbed into a nod.

“I’ll work it out. It’ll be fine. Just… don’t worry about it.”

Stacy

So far, the most difficult part about moving out was dinnertime. That was usually when both of her parents were home and were finally able to spend some quality time together. They’d ask her how her day had gone, and in turn, she’d get to hear about theirs, bad times and good times, annoying coworkers and sweet surprises. It was easily the best part of her day, what she looked forward to the most. Of course, minor adjustments had to be made in the dorm, since they couldn’t meet up anymore.

“I’ve spoken to the parents and set up a meeting for tomorrow, first thing in the morning,” Julia announced, once again on speakerphone. Since the dorm’s dining room was bursting with activity at this hour, far too loud for a call, Stacy and Abby had taken the first empty room in sight, some sort of office. They held their plates in one hand, forks in the other. “We’re gathering at the community center before work. I’m going to make an appeal and ask that they get on top of their kids, because if they’re not writing those posts, then they could end up in one. I don’t think they realize that. Is there anything in specific you’d like me to say?”

“All I know is we’re looking for a girl with little to no friends; a wallflower that goes to parties just to watch people do stuff.”

“So, everyone in the math club,” Abby joked. “Every geek and every nerd, wizard, witch, computer whiz and all those kids who watch anime after class. Basically, anyone with the social skills of a walnut.”

“I could get you some names,” Julia offered.

“The Spencers’ kid,” Darryl quipped in. “Baker, Campbell and Garcia. Millers too. Oh, what’s that clarinet player from last year’s Christmas musical? Wright?”

“Walker,” both Stacy and Julia corrected him.

“That’s right, the Walker’s kid on Maple Street. Such a strange young girl.”

“Whoever she is, I’m sure she’s harmless,” Abby commented. “If Stace were in any real danger, this girl would’ve already confronted her in person, rather than hide behind a screen like a coward. Do we really need a town meeting for this?”

“Even if she is harmless, she still needs to take accountability for her actions. We can’t let bullies get away, or they’ll think a username is all they need to avoid retribution. We must make an example out of her.”

Abby fell silent. Her hand played with the fork, turning it pensively. “Okay. Yeah, you make a good point. Sorry.”

“I have a list of suspects already,” Stacy commented. “All the girls that went to the frat last weekend. Josh got me the guest list. I’ll start interviewing them tomorrow.”

“Would you mind sending me those names?” her mother asked. “I’d like to know who to keep an eye on.”

“Sure. Campbell and Walker are on it.”

“Not surprised,” her father commented. “I doubt their parents will even be there tomorrow, given their terrible track record at the PTA meetings. I’ll reach out via email afterwards.”

“This will take effort, so stay strong,” Julia added. “We can find her. We will find her.”

“Thank you, mom. We can do this.”

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