Rites of Spring by Diana Peterfreund Read Free Book Online

Instead, I started making a list of what I’d do to Dragon’s Head. They wanted a war, they’d get one.
    As Poe was fond of saying, I had a way of making trouble for people.
    Brandon popped his head out of his room. “Do you want to hop in the shower first and wash some of the stickiness off?”
    I hesitated. “Maybe I should just run home…”
    “Don’t be silly. You’re still shivering. You’re not hiking all the way back to Prescott like that. It’s not a big deal.”
    “Getting in your shower isn’t a big deal?” And all the way back ? It was a block and a half.
    “Well, it’s not like I’ll be there.” He checked his smile. “Is this too weird for you?”
    “No.” It wasn’t weird enough . I put my bag down and held out my hands. “Fine. Toss me some towels.”
    But I did little more than rinse. Brandon’s shampoo and soap smelled too familiar to risk; I remembered too many other showers, too many other afternoons spent smelling like him. I dried off and headed back to the suite, praying his suitemates wouldn’t see me in towels.
    The common room was empty, even of Brandon, but I saw that he’d cleaned out my bag and hung it to dry over the radiator. A pile of used paper towels sat next to a neat stack of my ruined textbooks. Beyond, his bedroom door was open, but I couldn’t see anyone inside. Perhaps he’d gone to a bathroom on another floor to wash his hands.
    I closed the door behind me and sat on his bed. I knew this comforter well. He’d laid out a worn Eli T-shirt and a pair of drawstring sweatpants for me to wear. I picked up the shirt and held the softness against my skin. Forgoing the soap had been a useless effort. His clothes smelled like him, too.
    And I’d have to wash them before I returned them, even though I’d only be wearing them for the trip back to my place. Not to get too blunt about it, but my underwear was in the same condition as the rest of my clothing: covered in soda. I had no choice but to go commando.
    I dressed, then stuffed my sticky outfit into an empty shopping bag. Shouldn’t he be back by now? As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Brandon was always so polite.
    “Come in,” I called.
    Of course, it wasn’t Brandon. Felicity stopped dead on the threshold and gaped at me. In her boyfriend’s clothes. On her boyfriend’s bed. With my hair leaving wet rivulets all over her boyfriend’s shirt.
    This isn’t what it looks like is so cliché, but it’s the only phrase that popped into my head at the moment. Luckily, I was spared speaking it aloud, as Felicity regained her composure and asked, in a surprisingly reasonable voice, “Why, hello, Amy. Brandon around?”
    I rose. “I think he must be using a downstairs bathroom. I’m sure he’ll be right back.”
    And then, because the room didn’t seem large enough for both of us, I squeezed out into the common room. Felicity stood by the door, watching as I assessed the damage to my schoolbooks. “What happened?”
    “Some guy spilled a bunch of drinks on me at lunch.”
    “A bunch of drinks?” She raised her eyebrow. “How…odd.”
    Chick had no idea.
    Brandon returned to rescue me. “Lis,” he said, his eyes wide.
    Lis? What kind of nickname was that? Better than “Fell,” I suppose. And man, that was a guilty tone he was using. Curious. Brandon wasn’t the type to expect anyone else to see impropriety where he saw none.
    “Hi, sweetie.” Felicity crossed the room, placed her hands on his chest, and kissed him like she hadn’t seen him in months. “Amy was just telling me what happened to her. It’s so awful. Do you know who it was?”
    Brandon shook his head. “He’s not in Calvin. Amy, did you know him?”
    “No,” I said. But I knew where he could be found on Thursday and Sunday nights.
    “Sucks,” Felicity went on, moving closer to me. “You should try to track him down if you can. He should be forced to pay you for those books.” She toed at one of my stickier texts.