Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(3)
I’m about to grab my phone when I see a bright orange backpack resting on one of the tables in the far corner. I know it’s covered in Supernatural and Doctor Who pins. It was the neon color and choice of décor that made me walk up to the owner and say ‘hi’ after our first Intro to Communication class.
“Hey,” I greet Olive Henderson, another communications major.
The day we exchanged names, I’d been prepared to say, ‘Yes, Skylar is a boy’s name’ until she told me, ‘I’m Olive, like what they put in vodka martinis, which my parents obviously drank too much of before deciding on my name.’
I liked her instantly after that.
“Hey, Sky,” she says, smiling with her signature pink lips. She’s a makeup connoisseur and always wearing something no matter where we are. Usually something contoured to perfection with bright lipstick and eyeshadow. I thought I was decent at my makeup skills until meeting her, but she’s already shown me way more in my time here than my three older sisters have over the course of my life.
“Have you seen Becca and the others?” I do another scan of the bodies, not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved they left already.
Olive brushes some of her light brown hair, chopped in a cute, stylish short bob, behind her ear. When I was thirteen, I’d asked Mom if I could cut my hair in a similar style, but she’d nearly had a heart attack, telling me my hair was my ‘best feature’ and I couldn’t cut it above my shoulders because I didn’t have the face for it. It wasn’t like any of the Allen women were ugly, whatever standard that was measured by, but I definitely fit the tom boy aesthetic more than my siblings, and I think it worried Mom for the sake of the image she wanted me to fit.
All of the children of Brenda and Stephen Allen are beautiful. All-American. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and tan skin. Except, all of my sisters have blonde hair that’s a little lighter than mine, blue eyes slightly darker, and bodies all a tiny bit leaner. I was a late bloomer, not getting the C-cup breasts that ran in the family until seventeen and I didn’t have a growth spurt to the 5’7” I am now until later that year.
Thankfully, the baby fat on my face evened out, and my body—though still a bit curvier than my sisters’ and mom’s Victoria Secret model-like physiques—became way more proportional. I’ve never been embarrassed to buy a size ten when I’m shopping. Not even when my sisters were buying things in sizes that would barely fit one of my thighs. Not fitting that mold always made me stand out. Especially since I started dyeing my hair and wearing clothes that hugged my curvy figure.
“They left like five minutes ago,” Olive tells me, her green eyes sympathetic. Anyone who’s around me and Becca can sense the tension. It’s the elephant in the room that we both seem to ignore. “I’m not sure where they went. They all got a nasty looking green smoothie before leaving.”
Something resembling relief lightens the tightness in my chest as I glance at the door. Everyone I know says their roommate is their first friend at college, which is the only reason I keep holding onto hope that Becca and I can at least try to get along. But with every passing day comes a new challenge, and I keep wondering why I bother.
Fidgeting for a second as I look over my shoulder at the people waiting in front of the register, I pull out the chair across from Olive and drop into it. “Can I ask for a favor?”
My voice is sheepish, but it doesn’t change the way her smile goes right to her sea-green eyes that I’m slightly envious of. Not only does she have a kickass personality, great taste in television shows and makeup, but she’s uniquely herself. Strong-willed. Confident. Out of our small friend group here, we’re the curvier girls with a love of swear words, daring hair choices and sugar. “Of course, girl.”
Nibbling the inside of my cheek, I wring my hands in my lap and loosen a quiet sigh. “I was wondering if you could drive me to the health clinic over in Bridgeport. You’re the only person I know with a car, so I figured I’d see if you were free. But if you’re not, I can look at the bus schedule and figure out when to go.”
“I’ll totally take you! Are you okay?” Her eyes scan over my face. “You do look a little pale. Did you catch that bug going around? My mom keeps texting me every day reminding me to wash my hands and sanitize.”
Shifting in my seat, I lift a shoulder. “I just don’t…feel too hot. And the campus clinic probably can’t give out any prescriptions if I need some, so I thought it’d be better to go right to the clinic instead.”
She nods. “Good thinking. When do you want to go? I’m free all afternoon. My last class starts in twenty minutes and ends at three.”
“You really don’t mind?”
Her head shakes. “You’d know if I minded. Trust me.”
I can’t help but smile even though I’m dreading what’s to come. I’ve been putting it off for a week now, but it’s time. Long overdue, based on my many late-night Google searches once I’m bathed in blackness and there’s nothing but Becca’s even breathing coming from across our room.
“You’re the best.” I let out a heavy breath and sink into my chair. “So, how have classes been?”
We spend the next ten minutes venting about professors, homework, and other students until we have to part ways. It isn’t until I’m walking back to my dorm after making plans with Olive on where and when to meet when I let the possibility of what I’ll be told sink in.