Page 2 of Ink & Stardust

Does it even matter?

The answer doesn’t change the fact that they still did it.

I don’t slow until I’m outside, passing several of my classmates who are loitering in the lobby since the dance ended just a few minutes ago.

If anyone spoke to me, I didn’t hear it, certain that if I didn’t get outside right that instant, I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

I double over as soon as my feet hit the sidewalk, desperately trying to fill my lungs with air. I end up pukinginstead, turning just in time to spew the contents of my stomach into a bush.

They’ve ruined everything...

All our plans. For college. For our futures. It’s all gone. In the matter of one night, they’ve managed to burn my entire life to the ground.

Everything is just... gone.

Just like that.

And now I have no idea what to do...

FOUR MONTHS LATER

“Please tell me you brought more clothes with you and that these monstrosities are just what you plan on wearing to class.” One of my roommates, Charlotte, flips through my clothes, which are tightly packed inside a small wardrobe.

“If I did, where on earth would I put them?” I gesture around the tiny room. In addition to the small wardrobes each of us has, there’re three loft beds, two across from each other and one directly across from the foot of my own bed, all three with desks and chairs and a very small dresser tucked underneath, and that’s it. Bare bones at its finest. “Besides, what’s wrong with what’s in there?” I climb down from my bed and cross the small space to join her at my wardrobe.

“Nothing, if you’re going to church,” she snorts, giving me a visible eye roll. “I mean, seriously?” She tugs at a pale blue, knee-length floral dress, pulling it out just far enough that I can see what it is. “What are you, twelve?”

I’ve known Charlotte for a total of five days, but it only took me five minutes to come to the realization that she’s my polar opposite in every way, including how we dress. Where I tend to gravitate toward things that are soft in color and cute, Char—as she likes to be called—likes bold colors, tight material, and if the dress she’s currently wearing is any indication, the shorter the better.

She’s beautiful and sexy, with porcelain skin, long auburn hair, bright green eyes, and curves I’d give my left boob for. She’s also much taller than me, standing at least six inches over my five-two stature. It’s hard to stand next to her and not feel like an ugly duckling. Not that I consider myself ugly by any means. If anything, I’d say I’m more plain. Short, petite, light brown hair, hazel eyes. There isn’t a single thing about me that’s not completely and utterly average. I certainly don’t stand out, not like Char does.

She’s one of those girls you just know has been popular her entire life, and not just because of her obvious beauty, but because she’s also the most charismatic person I’ve ever met. I liked her instantly, and I have no doubt that’s how everyone feels when they meet her.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” I retort, reaching up to retrieve a soft pink sundress that I’ve actually worn to a party before—albeit a ten-year-old’s birthday party, but I’ll keep that little piece of information to myself. “What about this one?”

“Absolutely not.” She snags the dress out of my hand and shoves it back into the wardrobe. “This is a frat party, not a baby shower.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go then since clearly I have nothing to wear.” I huff, not sure how I ended up agreeing to go in the first place. Did I mention Char is extremely persuasive? Well, she is. And once she got Maisie, our other roommate, on board, there was really no way I could say no.

It’s not that I’m opposed to going to a party. It’s my first week on campus, and I should get out and meet people, but trying new things isn’t really my forte, and something tells me a frat party isn’t going to be my scene either. Then again, isn’t that why I came to UVA to begin with? To branch out, to try new things.To escape them,a little voice in my head chimes in.

I immediately shake off the thought. My ex-boyfriend and ex-best-friend made it perfectly clear they didn’t care enough about me not to screw each other behind my back, so I will not care enough about them to give them a second thought. Then again, isn’t that exactly what I’m doing right now?

I quickly refocus on Charlotte as she huffs and moves to the other side of the room, then tugs open the door of her own wardrobe.

“I guess you’ll just have to wear something of mine, then,” she singsongs.

“Uh... I don’t think I can wear your clothes.” I give her a once-over. So yeah, I guess we’re similar in size, but she’s much curvier and taller than me, so anything she loans me will probably look like a sack on me. “You have curves, where I... Well, don’t.” I gesture to myself.

“I think it’s more you don’t know how to accent the curves you do have, so it looks like you don’t. Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.” She pulls out a short, little black dress with spaghetti straps.

“No.” I immediately shake my head. “No way I’m wearing that.”

“Why not? It’ll look fantastic on you.”

“It’s not me.”

“Isn’t that the whole point? You said you came here to shed the old you. What better way to do that than to embrace a little change?”

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