Me: So kissing me was exciting, huh? I thought I felt a little wetness on my abs after I set you down…

Giana: CLAY!

Another laugh barreled out of me, and I tucked my phone back in my pocket, ducking into the meeting room. It buzzed again as soon as I sat down, and I was still wearing my cocky smirk when I pulled it back out, expecting a string of cursing texts from Giana.

But it wasn’t Giana’s name on my screen.

It was Maliyah’s.

And the waiting text only said one thing.

Hi.

Chapter Seven

Giana

It was blissfully quiet in my bedroom two nights after Chart Day, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and crackling of my wood-wick candle the only sound. I was propped up against the headboard, fuzzy sock-covered feet folded underneath me as my latest addiction sat spread like a map in my lap.

One hand held my book open, the other kept a consistent stream of crunchy Cheetos flowing from the bowl beside me into my mouth. My eyes raced across the pages, heart picking up its pace as Nino wrapped his hand around Francesca’s throat and pinned her against the door to the room he was keeping her hostage in.

Having my own apartment had been absolutely crucial for me after the hellish experience of having a roommate my freshman year. I learned very quickly that growing up in a large family that mostly ignored me had made me value my personal space.

I could not say the same for my roommate.

Two semesters of her bounding in my room after midnight drunk as a skunk and either crying to me about a boy or squealing to me about a boy, and I’d had enough. Not to mention the amount of dishes that girl dirtied, or how she couldn’t be bothered to clear her hair out of a sink or shower no matter how many times I’d asked.

The final straw had been when she’d taken a stack of my books without asking — and not even to read them, but to use them as a door stopper while she brought in groceries.

Fury snaked down my spine even at the memory.

I’d saved and saved and begged Mom and Dad to help fill the gaps so I could get this place, a tiny studio apartment just a few blocks from the NBU campus. It was small, old, and smelled a little like mothballs — but I loved it. And since I much preferred to be alone than to be in any sort of forced friendship, I was happy here.