Page 1 of Love Legacy

1

Sage

“So, Sage, did you call her?” Cora asks me as she searches through the hanging rack in my closet.

“Call who?” I respond, checking the rush schedule on my phone. In two days, Kappa Theta Alpha will begin welcoming potential new members for Rush Week, and Cora is helping me pick out something to wear for each day of our schedule.

“You know the British girl? That you met in Costa Rica? The one with the amazing tits?”

I chuckle, thinking back to our Costa Rica trip. Every year since we were freshmen, I’ve traveled to a resort in Costa Rica with Gabby and Cora, my two roommates, Maeve, my sororitysister, as well as my foster sister, Theia, and her boyfriend, Aaron, for a few days during the summer.

And every year, I inevitably hook up with some woman staying at the resort. This year, however, there were not one but two equally attractive women in rotation. The Brit Cora is talking about and a sweet little redhead from Dallas, Texas.

“I remember her, Cora. And no, I have not called her. I actually liked the redhead better.” To be honest, though, I was never going to call either of them. I never do.

“Oh, the Southerner? She was super sweet. A little too sweet, if you ask me. What was her name… Stacy? Kacey? Lacey?”

“Her name was Misty. And before you ask, no, I haven’t called her either,” I answer, rifling through the growing stack of clothing on the bed next to me. Cora may not be into the idea of Greek Life, but she has one hell of an eye for fashion. Especially when it comes to blending the sorority standard look with my own personal style.

Cora finally steps out of my closet, grabbing the pile of clothes off my bed and heading into the hallway. While she isn’t a member of Kappa Theta Alpha, our third roommate, Gabby, is. During Rush Week, we usually put up a temporary clothing rack in the hallway of our apartment. This way, it’s easier for us to coordinate what we’re wearing ahead of time. As Cora starts hanging up my picks, she stops to turn and look at me.

“Sage, you know you’re my best friend in the world, so I say this with love. But you’re a hoe.”

“I second that!” Gabby shouts from the front door, returning with food from our favorite off-campus spot, Happy Sprout.

“Gee, thanks, guys. I’m really feeling the love from both of you.” I head to the kitchen to grab my lunch. I ordered my usual black bean and mushroom burger with lettuce, onions, and chipotle mayo.

Happy Sprout is a small, family-owned cafe that focuses on plant-based foods. While I’m not a vegetarian, Cora is, so this became our go-to spot for food early on. “I’m serious, Sage. Your revolving door of women could put some of the frat guys’ to shame.”

“Ouch,” I mumble around a mouthful of my burger. As much as their comparison hurt, they were right. I had developed a bit of a reputation as a player on campus. I’ve hooked up with most of the queer women and even experimented with a couple of the straight ones.

I’d like to think I’m not hurting anyone. I’m pretty upfront about my expectations in that I have none; I don’t expect things to go beyond that one hookup. I tend to lose interest quickly if there’s not a deep connection, and I’ve been in splash pads deeper than the feelings I have for these women.

“Why are you allergic to dating?” Gabby asks with a raised brow.

“I’m not. I just haven’t found the right woman I want to date,” I answer half-heartedly, fidgeting with the ring I wore on my right hand. I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable with being the focus of the conversation.

“Bullshit,” she counters, “if that were the case, you would’ve found her by now.” And Gabby is completely right. If I were genuinely open to a relationship, I probably would’ve found one by now. But relationships are messy, and that’s a struggle I don’t know if I’m ready to take on. As I try to come up with an acceptable response, Cora jumps to my rescue.

“What I think Gabby is trying to say…” she starts, giving the other woman a pointed look, “is we just want to see you happy, Sage. You deserve more than a string of one-night stands.” Cora gives my arm a squeeze, settling my fidgeting.

While the three of us have been best friends for a couple years now, my friendship with Cora goes so much deeper. We actuallymet in high school, online, in a support group for children of adoption. Our friendship was almost instantaneous, and when we found out that we were going to the same college, that bond grew stronger. If anyone could understand my hesitations about entering a relationship, it would be Cora.

I went into the foster care system at twelve when my mom started caring more about the bottle than me. My dad passed away before I was born, so at that point, I had no one. My foster parents came into my life when I was fourteen, and just before my sixteenth birthday, they tried to adopt me. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out due to a series of clerical errors, but they treated me as one of their own all the same.

Cora was adopted from Japan as an infant by her parents. They tried for years to have biological children, and when that was unsuccessful, they decided to adopt instead of surrogacy. She has two younger siblings who were also adopted. Cora was part of the adoption support group long before I was, and even though our situations were different, we shared a similar struggle—reconciling that our biological parents left us for one reason or another and the death of a parent.

My dad passed before I got the chance to know him, but Cora’s mom, her adoptive mom, died from breast cancer when she was a teenager. Losing your mom when you need her the most? That shit hurts, and the pain never goes away. Cora still has a hard time talking about her. Her mom went to Pinebrook U in the nineties, so attending as a student brought up many emotions that she packed away. Our freshman year was rough for her, but Gabby and I were here.

Those girls are my sisters for life and I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Theia

Can you come over? I could use some help getting the apartment set up. *prayer hands emoji*

Sage

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