My Always One - Aleatha Romig Page 0,4
building and down the corridor to Rita’s apartment. “Oh, I know you, Marshal Michaels. If I snuck you into my sorority house, it would be like taking a five-year-old you to a candy store and saying, take your pick.”
We step inside.
It’s a nice apartment for college students with a simple floor plan: living room, kitchen, one bathroom, and two bedrooms. The glass doors in the living room are open to the patio, letting the spring breeze flutter the lightweight curtains.
Marshal lays his hanging bag and duffel bag on the couch and says, “It’s a good thing we’re not there if I’m only supposed to choose one.”
I shake my head. “Some things never change.”
“They don’t. I couldn’t let my best friend miss her big end-of-the-year dance.”
“I hope it will be better than prom.”
“I told you not to do it.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, wise one, one day I’ll listen to you.”
“Where’s Rita?” he asks.
“She’s staying with a friend and said we could have her apartment for the weekend.”
“A friend?” His eyebrows dance.
I scrunch my nose. “Do you remember when you were here last time and met a guy named Marvin?”
“You’d think I’d remember that name.”
“He was at that party we went to off campus.”
Marshal’s brow furrows. “Tall guy, talked about himself all the time? His dad owns some big construction company?”
“Agricultural co-ops, but yeah, that’s him. Well, he and Rita have been dating for a few months and...”
He lifted his hand. “Stop. I can fill in the blanks.”
“I bet you can.”
This obviously isn’t Marshal’s first visit to my campus, and I’ve been up to his on multiple occasions. He was right, an hour isn’t too long to visit your best friend. With all of our visits, this is the first rescue mission, and I can’t let it pass without thanking him. “I mean it, Marsh, thank you.”
He reaches for me, laying his palm on my cheek. “I’ll never let you down.”
My face inclines to his touch.
“Am I supposed to get you a corsage or something?”
I shake my head. “No, and remember, I’m allergic to roses.”
“No, you’re not. You just don’t like them since that kid in middle school sent you a bouquet.”
“His name was Lee and who sends roses at thirteen?”
Marshal smiled. “Hey, if I’m not getting my pick of your sorority sisters, tell me that you plan to feed me well.”
That’s my Marshal. He’s smart as can be, but his two favorite subjects are girls and food.
It’s a big weekend on campus, the last before finals, and the mood is joyous everywhere we go. We both have friends who go to both of our schools. After pizza at one of the local hangouts, Marshal gets a text from Jordon, a guy who graduated two years before us from our high school.
Marshal looks up from his phone. “Jordon invited us to Delta Tau Delta. He said they’re having a blow-out party.”
I can’t help but sigh. “They’re always having big parties.”
Marshal sits back against his chair and narrows his gaze. “Why don’t you want to go?”
“Todd will be there.”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Thirty Seconds.”
“Shut up.” Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so honest with Marshal, but as his lopsided grin grows, I can’t help but smile too. “Fine,” I say with a shake of my head.
“This is your weekend, Sami. We’ll do whatever you want.”
“Josh won’t be thrilled about me going to a party at the Delta Tau Delta house.” I shrug. “Unless I can tell him you were there, not disappearing with some freshman.”
“Give me more credit.”
“Okay, a senior.”
Marshal nods. “No, Sami, you’ve got me stuck like glue.” He leans forward. “What did Joshy Boy say about me coming this weekend.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “About the two of us alone at Rita’s?”
“Josh knows how much I want to go to the dance and he knows you.” I motion between us. “He knows about us and that means he’s good with it.”
“Is he your forever?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure.” A smile comes to my lips. “He’s lasted longer than Todd.”
“God, I hope so.”
“No,” I say too loud, my cheeks warming by the second. “Dating, not sex.”
“He doesn’t last longer than thirty seconds?”
“Stop, that’s not what I’m talking about.”
At nearly ten p.m., Marshal pulls his truck into a parking spot on the street and leans my way. “Do you want me to tell Todd you’ve found someone better than Speedy Gonzales?”
“I’d rather not talk to Todd at all.”
Marshal reaches for my hand. “Deal.”
Saturday night, I step from Rita’s bedroom, smoothing my dress. It’s red