Chapter 18 Jaxon

Per usual, I drank too much and woke up feeling more than just a tad too shitty. I sat up in bed, rubbing my face. My head felt like someone had reached into an eye socket, grabbed ahold of my skull, and beat it with a sledgehammer. It took me a moment to comprehend that I was stark-ass naked, and there was an equally naked girl in the bed next to me. She was a blonde, someone I didn’t recognize, and she was sound asleep.
I took a deep breath and tossed my legs over the side of the bed, standing up shakily. My mouth tasted vile as though something had died under my tongue, and my stomach was swimming with toxic liquor. I stumbled to the bathroom, stepping over random beer bottles and garbage on the floor as I did. I didn’t remember much about last night after Grayce and Alex left. I mean, bits and pieces were swimming around in my skull, but nothing too substantial jumped out at me as I cranked on the hot water to my shower and stepped inside. As I washed up, resisting the overwhelming urge to vomit all over the shower floor, I found myself wondering how Grayce was this morning. She hadn’t drunk much before leaving, and I envied how good she was probably feeling right now. Drinking was always worth it until the morning after, that seemed to be the way it went.
I felt a little bit better after a hot shower, and to my great relief, the naked blond girl in my bed had already vanished by the time I went back to the bedroom to get dressed. That would save me the hassle of having to kick her out myself. As I went to the kitchen for some coffee and a handful of dry Cheerios, I stumbled over a lump on the floor. It was Tyler.
“Fucking A, man,” he grumbled, throwing his makeshift blanket of dirty towels off his legs. “You’re up so early.”
“It’s one in the afternoon,” I said, checking the time on my phone.
“I don’t even care,” Tyler groaned, and he rolled onto his stomach, face in the carpet. I’m sure it smelled glorious, like sex, stale food, and old beer, but he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s Sunday, bitch, no classes.”
“Unlike someone here, I have homework to get done before tomorrow,” I said, and Tyler groaned. He got to his feet, running his hand through his disheveled hair. Stained with something that looked and smelled like toxic Jungle Juice, his shirt was rumpled. He was only wearing one shoe, though I wasn’t sure he noticed.
“Coffee?” I asked, and poured him a cup before he could answer. I filled up my travel mug and reached for my backpack. “I have to go to the library,” I told him. “Research to help me with this law paper.”
“Whatever, bro,” Tyler said. “Can I use your shower?” He took a large drink of black coffee and made a face.
“If you don’t vomit all over my bathroom floor,” I said. I slipped my phone into my pocket and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Later, dude.”
It was a short walk from my apartment to the library, where I had to find some sources for my paper that was due this week. Thankfully for us procrastinators, the campus library was open on Sundays, so stragglers like me could cram in what they needed to get done before the start of the week. I had just walked through the front doors of the towering building when I spotted Grayce sitting by herself at one of the study tables. She was chewing the end of her pen, hovering over a textbook splayed on the table. Her brow was furrowed, gaze intense as she squinted at the homework in front of her.
“Well lookie here,” I said, making myself comfortable in the empty seat across from her. “Don’t you look nice and hangover-free.” I dropped my pack on the ground next to my feet and flashed a grin at her. She looked up from the textbook she’d been reading and scoffed.
“I feel fantastic,” she said. “How do you feel? Because you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Because I feel like someone body-slammed me multiple times last night.” Noticing a half-eaten chocolate chip muffin sitting on a napkin, I reached for it and took a bite. She glared at me.
“Get your own breakfast, cheapskate.”
“You’re not supposed to have food in the library,” I said, and continued to chew.
“Malcolm is working today, and Malcolm lets me have food.” She looked over at the senior man who was sorting through a stack of books, oblivious to our conversation.
“Hey, I’m sorry about last night,” I said, looking back at Grayce. She was staring hard at me, tracing my features with her eyes. Those eyes, those damn eyes were such an odd array of colors; blue, gray, green, in such a brilliant pattern like a snowflake. Eyes so intense I almost had to look away and compose myself.
“Sorry for what?” she asked.
“Tyler is a good friend of mine, but he’s not the most respectful guy in the world. He can be a jerk sometimes.”
“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” Grayce asked, catching me off guard. I stared at her, trying to decide if I should be offended or amused.
“I may be an ass sometimes, but I’m nowhere near Tyler.”
“I guess that depends on your perspective,” she said. “I can imagine the women you sleep with and never call again probably think you are as bad as Tyler.”
“Do you think I’m as bad as Tyler?” Part of me dreaded to hear her answer, and my jaw tightened as I waited for her to brutally lay it out for me in the most Grayce-like way possible.
“I don’t know you or your friend well enough to say,” Grayce said. Her voice was steady and self-assured. She seemed less intimidated now, more composed, and I felt like I’d lost the high ground in whatever weird friendship thing this was turning into.
“It’s a good thing you can’t get away from me then,” I said. “You have all the time in the world to get to know me now.”
“I can’t contain my excitement,” she deadpanned.
“Way to hit below the belt.”
Grayce laughed. She had a nice laugh, a real laugh. It was a sweet, simple relief from all the fake in my world. Fake nails, fake hair, fake personalities. Fake people.
“You know, you did play a good game yesterday,” she admitted. “I don’t much like football, but that was impressive.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” I said, and she put her hands up, shaking her head.
“Whoa there, no one said I enjoyed it. I was just saying . . .”
“You’re a brat.”
“So I’ve been told,” she said. Grayce grabbed the muffin from my hand and took a bite. “I assume you didn’t randomly come into the library just to chat with me, did you? Or better yet, are you stalking me?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” I said.
“The library is my turf. If anyone is being stalked, it’s certainly not the preppy football player.”
“Your turf?” I repeated. “Come on, that’s not a thing.”
“Of course it is.” Grayce crumpled the empty muffin wrapper and tossed it into the garbage bin a few feet away. She was a better shot than Tyler. “College is nothing but a glorified high school reunion. Less than two weeks ago, I would have said and thought differently, but now that I’ve gotten to know you and your posse, it’s absolutely true.”
“How so?”
“Well, there are still cliques, obviously,” Grayce said. “You know, the jocks and their preppy girlfriends in one group. Book nerds and teacher’s pets in the other. Burnouts. Party animals. It’s never-ending.”
“I see. And what group do you belong to?”
“Losers,” Grayce said. “Just like high school.”
“What makes you think you were a loser in high school?” I asked, and Grayce paused, frosty eyes narrowing in my direction.
“You,” she said. “You made me think I was a loser in high school.” She folded her arms and leaned forward over the table, still staring at me. “You don’t remember, do you? All the shitty comments and teasing.”
“No way.” I folded my arms and leaned back in my chair, searching her face for some sign she was kidding.
“You don’t even remember, do you?” she asked. As I sat staring at her, noticing the way she chewed intensely on her bottom lip, I suddenly did remember. I remembered all of it, the taunts and rude comments … the laughter. Not only did I remember it, but I’d been a part of it.
“I remember,” I said. Grayce leaned back, content with that answer. She was still looking at me, and despite the urge I had to look away in shame, I held her gaze steady.
“So, no,” Grayce said. She slammed her textbook shut and dropped it into her backpack. Then she stood up and hoisted it over her shoulder, gathering her cell phone and notebook. “College is no different from high school. Are you?”