Chapter 4 - Muffins and thongs

Chapter 4

 

Troy

 

​

Dear Diary,

I’m here—at the university. Finally registered for all my classes. Blah, blah, blah.

About last night, though. Things went a little haywire.

He took my panties. And I don't know why. Why would a man take panties instead of having sex?

Anyway,

I’ll think about that later.

Right now, I have to lure him in with muffins.

​

XOXO

---

In the campus bathroom, Troy stands in front of the mirror.

She briefly saw him on campus this morning.

He looked different. He wore a casual grey T-shirt and blue jeans, with a black backpack as if the elegant man from last night didn't exist.

Thinking about what happened last night, she corrects a few strands of out-of-place hair. She wipes at her eyes, making sure her mascara is perfectly intact.

She taps nervously with her finger on the counter.

Then she takes a deep breath and practices. The way she's been practicing for years.

Her fake innocent frown.

Her fake Mona Lisa smile.

She even tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers, looking down with a practiced, shy smirk.

She looks back up. It’s all a facade, but it’s perfect. He'll never know.

Today, she looks different than last night, even though she still hides her striking green eyes behind dark contact lenses.

Out of the five good outfits her poor ass owns, she chose a pink hoodie and tight denim shorts. It is cute, simple, and revealing enough to ensure she is seen.

She checks her watch. Two minutes until lunch—time to move.

She straightens her clothes one last time and walks out, heading toward the dining hall.

The air feels freezing against her bare legs. The denim shorts are far too short for the weather, but they are necessary. She would rather freeze to death than swap them for something less distracting.

Students flood out of their classes, already forming a food line.

It isn't long before Dorian steps into the hall, flanked by a couple of guys. An easy, slanted smile plays on his face. Tossing out a joke that makes his friends laugh, he shakes his head, thoroughly pleased with himself.

The group heads straight for the long queue.

Digging her nails into her palms, she moves.

Showtime.

She lowers her head, pretends to scroll on her phone, and slips into line right in front of him. It works perfectly. She gets in line, and three seconds later, he does too.

His presence burns against her back while her heartbeat drums violently in her ears.

For a moment, she imagines turning around and stabbing him in the throat with her pen. But the pain would be brief, and she would end up expelled and in jail. So, definitely not.

She keeps her chin up, moving forward as he practically breathes down her neck.

"Did you remember yet?" He says quietly behind her, speaking down.

"What?" She turns around.

"Your real name."

Instantly, her fake smile slips. And she forgets everything she practiced in that one second.

She frowns. "Did you decide to give me back my underwear?"

"Finders keepers, I'm afraid."

Troy stares at him for a second.

"Well, I guess then I'm a liar and you a thief." She rolls her eyes. "Nice to meet you."

And turns back around.

Shit.

The muffins aren't going to work if she keeps losing composure like this.

She straightens her posture and breathes out a steady breath. Then she moves forward with the line. 

When she finally reaches the kiosk counter, she concentrates on the task at hand and waits until he is close enough to hear her every word.

“Hey, can I get a soda and a muffin? Gosh, I'm so hungry,” she asks, flashing a bright smile at the server. Then, she opens her almost empty wallet. “Actually… just the soda. Seems I’m short on cash.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her fingers tremble slightly. In her peripheral vision, she can see his sharp eyes pinned directly onto her.

“Are you sure?” the server asks, looking worried.

“Yeah… yeah… I’ll be fine,” she says softly, looking down with that innocent Mona Lisa smile.

Troy takes the soda and walks away at an agonizingly slow pace. Behind her, she hears Dorian’s low voice: “A soda, a sandwich, and two muffins.”

She moves as slowly as she possibly can.

“Hey,” Dorian calls out from behind her. His tone is almost emotionless.

Troy turns around, painting a perfectly confused look on her face. 

“Your muffins,” Dorian says. With a completely expressionless face, he extends the food toward her.

“I didn't order them.”

“I did.”

Troy looks down at the muffins, frowning, then looks back up into his grey eyes. “Are you trying to make up for robbing me?”

He leans in and whispers next to her ear. “Would you have preferred if I fucked you?” he says, dropping them into her hands.

Troy has to fight the sudden urge to slap him right then and there.

His gaze holds hers for two seconds longer before he turns and walks away.

She counts the seconds as he walks away. One, two, three, four, five. Right on cue, Dorian turns his head and looks back.

One eyebrow arched. His eyes narrow as he looks at her.

She meets his gaze without flinching, but inside, she feels a heavy uncertainty.

The muffin act was supposed to be easy. Her research said empathy creates a pathway toward attachment. Did he feel the empathy he was supposed to? It sure as hell didn't look that way just now.

That question. So blunt. And crass. Unlike the deep questions he asked yesterday about life and death.

Why does he look at her like that? Nothing about him makes sense.

And it's beyond frustrating. The fact that she cannot tell whether her skillfully selected plans are actually working?

He looks ahead and walks to the table where his friends are waiting for him.

Troy has no choice but to follow. This isn’t over yet. She heads to the seating area and finds a spot at the table next to his, making sure she can see him without being too obvious.

Dorian leans back casually now, crossing his foot over his knee as he pops open his soda. A smile is back on his face. And he seems almost too at ease.

But before she can focus on him, a group of students suddenly slides onto the benches around her. She hadn’t planned for that.

“Hey, are you new here?” A girl with deep tanned skin and lush black hair slides in next to her, nudging her shoulder.

Troy blinks, quickly flashing a friendly smile. “Yeah… and you?”

“Like a baby. I’m Trish.” She holds a hand out eagerly.

For a moment, Troy freezes. Her mind races, but then she takes the hand. “Uhm… Poppy. My mom calls me Poppy. I don't really like my real name.”

Trish laughs, nodding in agreement. “Ugh, tell me about it! Sometimes I wonder what our parents were thinking. Well, Poppy, it's awesome to meet you.”

“Thanks, you too.”

“I hear everyone is going to the campus bonfire tonight. At the old farmhouse villa next to the Deadwood forest. You comin’?” Trish asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Uhm, I don't think so.”

“Oh ok. That's a pity. Why?”

“I live pretty far, and I don't really have the cash for a taxi.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I'm so lucky to have my own car.” She opens a soda herself and digs into the donut. Then starts scrolling on her phone.

Troy looks at her and frowns, then glances quickly at Dorian, and slowly back at Trish.

Wait.

“I wish I stayed closer, though. Where do you stay? At the dorms?” Troy asks with a sweet smile.

“Oh, yeah. Why?”

“Just asking.” She keeps quiet for a few seconds. Then. “Actually, would it be weird if I crashed at yours tonight? Then I could catch a ride with you? Or do you think … we literally just met… That’s too weird, right?”

“Oh my god, yes. No, that's a good idea. It’s not like you're a weirdo stalker or something, right?” Trish laughs. “Then you can just go to class tomorrow from my dorm room.”

Troy laughs with her. Such a sweet girl. Naive… but sweet. “Wait, really? Oh, but come to think of it, I don't have anything else on me, except for the clothes I’m wearing.”

“No, you can just wear some of my clothes. You look like you're the same size as me.”

“I don't know…” Troy says, playing the hesitant girl with a careful glance. “I don't want to impose.”

“Oh girl, you’re not. We’re both new here, so we might as well stick together!” Trish says with so much enthusiasm that Troy can’t help but laugh.

For a moment, she really wants to just be a normal twenty-one-year-old going out for the night.

“So are we doing this?” Trish begs shamelessly.

“Yeah, that actually sounds like fun. I’ll go to the bonfire party with you,” Troy says, raising her voice just enough so he can hear her from across the aisle.

Honestly, she’s only been to a couple of high school parties, and those were just to practice flirting. Every move she’s made has been training for this part of her life.

“I hope you have really cute clothes,” Troy adds in a quieter tone.

“Oh, you have no idea! You’re gonna be so glad you met me.”

“I think I already am,” Troy smiles brightly.

She risks a glance over at Dorian’s table. Big mistake. Troy’s smile slowly fades.

Because he isn't looking at her like a man who's interested. He's looking at her like a man who's just realized something—and doesn't like the answer.