The rain came down harder as I walked to the train. It thudded against my umbrella and still managed to soak my shoes. The leather jacket clung to my skin with the humidity, right along with my hair glued to my neck.

I pulled the umbrella away once I made it to the steps of the station and took the escalator to the red line.

Seeing as it was midday, the train wasn't packed, which made it easy to find a seat and fling my backpack on my lap.

The 30 minute train ride turned into 45 with all the delays and when I finally made it to my apartment Carson was on the couch snoring away, wearing a thong and a sweatshirt.

I shook the wetness off the umbrella before letting my bag hit the floor with a thump.

After heading to the sink to wash my hands, I turned around to see Carson awake and staring at me.

My noise of surprise ricocheted across the kitchen and on instinct my hand moved to clutch at my heart.

"You freak," I yelled once I got my wits back.

"You look horrible," was her only response. 

I peeled my jacket off, shaking my head and ignoring her. Homegirl needed to look in a mirror, miss I haven't showered in a week.

"What happened to going to class?" I asked as I unhooked my bra and sighed at the relief.

"No class. I'm dead inside," she mumbled as she sank back into the couch, stuffing her face with chips.

I rolled my eyes at her juvenile response and dragged my stuff to my bedroom so I could shower.

After moisturizing and pulling my big t-shirt over my head I went back out to the living room to shove Carson over to watch TV.

30 minutes into my Law and Order SVU episode, Lena finally showed up from work with the same drowned rat effect.

When she saw us sitting on the couch she sighed in disappointment. As if sitting and watching television was a crime.

"It's a Friday night, why are you both here dressed like that?" she asked us as she moved to the sink.

"You know why," Carson said as her eyes remained glued to the TV.

"Actually, I don't," Lena said. "There are tons of guys in the world. You're hot Carson, if you want to take your mind off him then find someone else who can help you do that. Works for me every time."

I turned to her, shrugging in agreement. To which she glared at me.

"It's not like you can talk Spencer."

I made a face but then decided to ignore her because Carson was just hurting. And I knew that. 

However, Lena jumped in before I could explain myself more carefully. 

"Listen if you've got the virgin telling you to give someone else a go then maybe that means something."

I felt my eyes rolling. Again. Lena failing to miss the point.

"That's definitely not what I meant, dummy," I responded. "Let's face it, Carson's a relationship kind of person, so hookups won't help. However, maybe getting back out there will."

"It's only been a week," Carson sighed as she shook her head, not wanting to hear it.

"Yeah, a week where you haven't left the house, ditched half of your classes, ate like shit and haven't showered," Lena said bluntly. And truthfully.

Carson flicked her off.

"So?" she said, being stubborn. "I always eat like shit, bitch," she replied as she shoved another handful of chips in her mouth.

And even though Carson was evading the point that statement was was true. Carson was the skinniest one out of all of us. She ate everything and anything but never gained any weight. 

I didn't get it but I was jealous as hell. Just walking near a McDonalds made me gain 5 pounds.

"We could go to Fringe, Carson," I prodded with an elbow to her ribs.

"Seriously, come on Carson," Lena added. "All of the athletes will be there."

"Which might mean he'll be there," Carson groaned as she shoved her face in a pillow.

He, being Foster Adams, a wide receiver on our nationally recognized football team and also Carson's on again off again boyfriend. 

And let me tell you when they were on, it was great and it was good. And when they weren't it was terrible, a nightmare. 

I think Lena and I were just praying that this was the last time. We couldn't take it anymore.

"Which means it's your chance to take a damn shower, get hot, and show him what he's missing," Lena said.

"Or..." I offered, "A chance for you to feel good about yourself and start living life again."

"That's what I said," said Lena with her hand to her hip.

Carson and I gave her a look.

When Lena and I turned back to Carson she closed her eyes and grimaced. Thinking hard.

"Fine," she hissed eventually, giving into our pleading.

"Hell yeah," Lena cheered. "I'll even let you borrow my black skirt that you love," she said as she dragged Carson off the couch and into the bathroom.

I followed as my white padded toes wandered to my room. I put some music on, trying to get in the spirit of things. I hadn't been out in a while. Partly because of Carson but mostly because going out drained my social battery.

I pulled my hair out of my bun and fluffed out the curls. I smoothed lotion over my face and went digging for my white halter top and blue vintage jeans.

As I put my jewelry on, Lena appeared in my room to hold up a pale blue tube top and jeans.

"Are we into it?" she asked.

I nodded my yes as I literally jumped into my jeans. I wasn't kidding about the 5 pounds thing.

"I'd kill for your ass Spencer," she griped as she took her shirt off. "My mom cursed me with a flat ass."

I snorted.

"You've got a great ass," I told her. "Plus you've got the best tits."

She looked down at her own chest and smiled.

"True."

Carson popped out of the shower and sat so Lena could do her makeup. I rummaged through my stuff and pulled out my kelly green cami because I knew she loved that top and had been begging me to wear it.

I put my hair up and left the fringe down. I stared at my body, focusing on my wide hips and stomach pooch before turning away to find my shoes.

Pretending I was 20 pounds lighter couldn't happen if I actually looked at myself in the mirror.

After Carson went from stunner to even more of a stunner we headed out. And I had to admit I loved when we went out together. Not only did we look like a walking diversity ad, we also looked like a printer slowly running out of ink. My dark skin, to Carson's caramel skin, to Lena's olive tone. The looks we got were funny because people didn't know what to make of us.

We walked the four blocks to Fringe which was a college bar near campus. The rain had stopped so it wasn't a bad walk but more heat had seeped in which didn't help.

We made it inside and as usual it was packed. Somehow we finagled a booth in the corner after a group of boys left.

Not soon after, the basketball team decided to roll in and with how obnoxious they were being about it I had to fight rolling my eyes.

I took drink orders and sat at the bar waiting for the bartender to finish. I was absentmindedly playing on my phone when the drinks were set in front of me.

After gathering the two white claws and the sprite in my hands I spun around, only to be attacked by a pitcher of red punch.

It landed all over me, soaking through my white shirt and running down my legs. I found myself releasing a scream as the cold liquid touched my skin, doing a little shiver before composing myself.

The few people near us grew rowdy at the sight of my embarrassment, meanwhile I just grew angry.

When I looked up at the culprit I realized he a) must have been a basketball player, with the height and all, b) was super cute, and C) was shamelessly checking out my rack due to the white fabric basically becoming translucent with all the punch.

Luckily I was wearing a bra. A black lacy bra, but at least I was wearing one.

I scowled, and crossed my arms to cover my breasts.

"After dumping a pitcher of punch on me the least you could do is not ogle me," I said moving an angry hand to my hip. "Ever heard of a thing called an apology?"

He made a noise of surprise and looked at me like I had a couple screws loose.

"Don't flatter yourself," he replied eventually. "You ran into me, not the other way around."

I felt my fist clench around the white claw.

"Maybe you should have given me some personal space? You were right behind me," I gritted out.

"The bar is packed. Where else was I supposed to be standing?"

I swung my head around looking for patience and made eye contact with another smiling basketball player. Who was also staring at my boobs. I tried taking deep breaths to contain myself.

Didn't work.

"You're an asshole," I spat out.

His eyes narrowed on me.

"And you definitely were staring at my boobs."

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "My gaze might have slipped a little," he said. "But I wasn't staring at your boobs."

I pointed my finger accusingly.

"You're a liar, and now I've gotta walk home like this," I bit off as the anger faded and annoyance filled the space. "The creeps of Chicago will eat me alive, so I hope you're happy."

As I prepared for my grand exit I was hauled back towards him with his finger in my belt loops.

I prepared to slap his hands away as I spoke.

"What do you-" I started to say before the words died out.

He had pulled his forest green shirt over his head and handed it to me. He was now wearing a tight white tee and like the whore I was, his impressive basketball physique was growing on me.

I stared at the shirt in my hands, avoiding eye contact, not quite sure how to react.

"What?" he asked. "Do I have to put it on you too?"

The moment was broken and I snapped out of my momentary idiocy to give him a glare.

"I'm taking your sweatshirt but I still think you're an asshole, asshole."

I set the drinks down to pull the large shirt over my head. The material draped and came down to my mid thigh. I knew I looked ridiculous but I was planning to play it off. Not letting him get the final word.

However, his smirk broke whatever composure I had.

"You sure do look a lot better," he told me.

"Don't you patronize me," I said as I stalked away, drinks in hand.