Too Late, Right On Time
"Lillian!" Desiree called out my name from the living room of our shared apartment.
As Juniors, we weren't required to live on campus, but it was easier and cheaper than renting a place near Ashford University, a bustling campus in Bellmere, Connecticut. Desiree and I had been roommates for three years and friends since childhood. Now, it was less about playing mermaids in the pool and more about shuffling between classes and exams, with movie marathons and mental exhaustion filling up our weekends.
"C'mon, Lillian! You're going to be late. Your Bio class starts in..." She looked down at her phone. "Thirty minutes."
My head snapped up from my molecular genetics textbook. I scrambled to throw my books into my backpack and checked my appearance in the mirror. Almond-shaped green eyes stared back at me. My brown hair was long, almost to my waist, and in desperate need of a cut, styling, and a deep conditioning mask I couldn't afford.
I threw my hair up into a clip, like usual, and slipped on my favorite cardigan. It was an atrocious yellow-and-brown granny-square 70s pattern that, as Desiree said, was "whimsically loud vintage knitwear."
That was marketing major code for an ugly-ass sweater, but it did the job of keeping me warm, and I had a soft spot for unique... eclectic things. I always told Desiree it gave them personality.
This explained why our apartment was a blend of whimsy and polished modern design. Our vintage tufted purple velvet couch sat next to a glossy end table that held an expensive crystal lamp and a vintage 1980s phone shaped like a cute tabby cat. I had insisted on buying it from a thrift shop downtown, using the excuse, "It looks lonely."
I opened my door to come face-to-face with Desiree. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders in perfect curls, and her blue eyes sat hooded beneath long lashes. Her gaze flicked over my appearance and then back to my face. The corner of her eye twitched just once, a nervous habit she'd had since childhood whenever her brain was trying to plan a polite response. She adjusted the bottom button of my cardigan.
"Did your head get lost in one of those books again?" Her nimble fingers worked to undo the button. Her polished acrylic nails clicked as she refastened them correctly. "I'm worried about you... You've been doing that a lot." Her concerned eyes met mine again.
"I'm... fine," I mumbled as I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "I'll talk to you about it later." I grabbed her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. She acted like a mother hen. It was what made her Desiree. "But I have to go."
I pushed past her and grabbed a banana from the glass fruit bowl on our small wooden dining table on my way out.
"Don't forget!" she called just as my hand touched the handle of our front door. "The Sigma Alpha Nu party is tonight. The spring mixer. You promised we would go."
My hand froze on the door handle. My brain glitched like a cell stuck in mitosis.
"That's... tonight?" My voice came out soft and uneven with a hint of trepidation. "I thought you said it was next week."
Desiree walked over and opened the front door for me. "No... I said it was next week last weekend." She enunciated the last two words as if to prove her point. "Honestly Lil this is what I mean when I say I'm concerned. You need to get your head out of those books and live a little. Part of learning is giving yourself space to make mistakes... like making out with a hot frat boy. Once. Maybe twice." She added the last part with a teasing smile and a playful wiggle of her eyebrows followed by a soft laugh.
"Des!" I groaned in protest. "I'm not making out with some random frat boy. They're too... communal." My imagination instantly conjured the image of a frat house as one giant petri dish. Nothing killed the mood quicker. I grimaced and shook my head trying to chase the thought away. "I'll go with you but no kissing," I said firmly raising a finger.
"Fine, fine." She raised her hands in surrender before immediately breaking into a wide smile. "We're going to dress you up so nicely. I have so many plans. Look I made a mood board..." Her voice trailed off as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through Pinterest. I could see the excitement and delight dancing in her eyes as she planned a mini makeover for the party. "Ooh, what about this outfit?"
"Des, I have to go." Her voice faded as I stepped into the hallway and began speed-walking toward my Bioethics class.
"Bye! Love you!" I called as I pushed through the security-coded doors onto campus and straight into...
"Spencer!"
