Rain slashed against my bedroom window. I stared into the darkness behind the windowpane, then averted my gaze to my lap. 

“Don’t be scared. It’s just rain,” she whispered. Dainty fingers with thin golden rings adorning them combed through my wet blonde strands, trying to undo the knots. 

“Ouch.” I winced, covering her hand with mine. 

She caught it and brought it to her lips, placing a soft kiss on each knuckle.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try not to pull. Let me grab a comb.”

“It’s okay.” I smiled. “I want you to read me a bedtime story. The one about the princess and the dragon. We can brush my hair once it’s dry.”

“No can do.” She hopped off the bed and headed toward the en-suite, leaving a trail of citrusy perfume in her wake — orange and vanilla with spicy notes of cinnamon. Once she reached the doorway, she turned around, beaming. “Your hair is beautiful. We have to take good care of it. And you know what?”

I toyed with the hem of my pink PJs. “What?”

“The more I look at you, the more convinced I get I should’ve named you Barbie. That name suits you.”

It’s not raining. Sunlight floods my bedroom, and I jolt upright, wiping the wetness off my cheeks as I blink several times. As soon as I grab the phone from the nightstand, a frustrated groan escapes me. I dash to the bathroom, squeeze some toothpaste on a brush, and pee while I brush my teeth, inwardly cussing at the dream that made me oversleep.

Leah knocks on my bedroom door when I’m done putting on my oversized white button-down. Not my smartest choice of clothes because my face is as pale as the fabric of the shirt, and there’s no time for makeup. Or breakfast.

“Tara. I gotta run. Are you ready?”

I throw the door open and snatch my purse from the chair by the desk. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“I could’ve woken you up,” my roommate says, her head cocked to the side as her gray eyes roam my face.

“I didn’t hear my alarm. Shit. I hate being in a rush.”

“We have fifty minutes before the lecture starts. Fingers crossed we don’t hit the traffic,” Leah says, exiting the apartment. “Let’s see who gets there first.”

I could’ve given Leah a ride, but our schedules are different, and she loves her bike, probably as much as I love my car.

She hops on her Harley while I get in my Maserati. The drive takes twenty minutes, and when I park on campus, Leah is already there with Brian, sitting on his lap as they’re having breakfast on a bench not far from the Humanities building. 

I’m happy my first class is with her and not Sebastian because I can’t deal with him without caffeine in my system. 

Coffee.

He wanted us to grab some coffee. Poor, delusional Bast. He must think a cup of espresso makes up for months of his rude remarks and condescending smirks, but I’d be a liar if I said his offer didn’t throw me off-guard. 

Why would someone want to fraternize with their enemy over a hot drink?  He surely had hidden motives or wasn’t thinking clearly. 

Today, I can’t think, either. During the lecture, Leah takes notes while I stare at the blank page. My mind is tangled in the web of my past, lost in the memories of a sweet perfume and fictional dragons that can be defeated.  

When classes are over hours later, I drag my feet to the cafeteria, keeping my eyes downcast. 

Latte in hand and my beige coat slung over my arm, I turn to exit the cafe when someone’s sharp elbow digs into my ribs. The scorching mix of coffee and milk spills from my cup and soaks the front of my shirt, burning the skin underneath.

“Crap.” I leave the half-empty cup I didn’t put a lid on on the windowsill and riffle through the contents of my purse for some tissues.

The stain is still there even after I’ve used the whole pack. The shirt’s ruined like my mood and my day because I have somewhere to be in the afternoon and no time to go home to change.

My eyes burn. I rub them, grateful for no makeup, and survey the cafeteria. Whoever elbowed me must be here. I might even know who — poison fills Elena’s stare when our eyes meet, although she’s quick to look away.

I want to tell her I’m not her competition. Bast hates me, and I can’t stand him, either. That he chose to sit far from her in our last Ethics class wasn’t my fault. We have yet to meet to study, and I’ve used every evasion tactic I know to avoid seeing him.

I’d gladly tell the snake whatever she wants to hear, but Bast materializes in front of me on a dime, his tall, lean body blocking my view of the cafe.

“Tara.”

I tip my chin up. “Yes?”

Bast’s eyebrows squish together as he studies me. “I…um…Did you take notes in Ethics?”

“I did.”

“Could you give them to me? I need to study, and…”

First coffee, now this. Am I being played? “Why don’t you ask your minion?” I say.

Bast gives me a blank look. 

“Elena.” 

He runs a hand through his hair. “Ah, her. I’d rather not. So?”

I should say no. He can ask whoever. Why ask someone he despises and considers dumb? I open my mouth, but close it when I notice the dark shadows under his eyes.

Bast shifts his weight. Touches the back of his neck. Crosses and uncrosses his arms.

“Okay.” I huff. “Tomorrow.”

He nods. “Sure. Thanks. And Tara?”

“Yeah?”

He steps forward, reducing the distance between us to barely a few inches. He's all I can see and smell. 

It's not oranges and vanilla but something fresh, like ocean breeze and forest after the rain.

Bast takes the fabric of my shirt between his thumb and index finger and then releases it, frowning. “You might want to get changed. The stain—”

A snicker behind him pierces the air. Elena.

Heat engulfs my cheeks, and I sprint out of the cafe, leaving my now cold coffee behind.

I’m not going to cry. Not over some dirty clothes or mean girls.

Except there’s a client who paid me to help her renew her wardrobe. And I need this money for Saturday. What will she think of me when I turn up looking like a hot mess?

As I sit behind the wheel, I brush my hair and apply bright red lipstick. The coat will stay on. 

It’s just a bad day. 

Not a bad life.

Now I sound like my therapist.

♡♡♡

By the time Leah, her friend Annie, and I settle on the floor around the coffee table in our living room, ready for a girls’ night, the disastrous events of today’s morning have lost their significance.

“Ladies." I give the girls their glasses and sit on a cushion next to Annie.

Leah studies the burgundy liquid in her goblet. "Tell me it's not the three hundred one.”

"It's not, but it's also good. If you want that one, I still have a couple of bottles."

The startled look on my friend’s face makes me chuckle. I offered her some of the three-hundred-a-bottle wine months back, forgetting not everyone’s used to that stuff. 

"We're good." Annie raises her glass. "To the nerds."

She didn’t just say that. I pick up a cushion and smack her lap with it. "How could you!"

Annie doubles over, chortling. "I was talking about the three of us. Leah told me both of you spent the last few evenings studying."

"Yeah. Thank God. Don't bring him up. I don't need reminders."

Because as much as I hate it, I can’t get our earlier interaction out of my head. 

"What happened?" Leah asks.

I can’t mention the beach or Bast’s weird offer. For starters, Leah has no idea I love swimming when it’s cold outside. She’s clueless about too many things, and I prefer it this way. But she’s my close friend, and I need to give her something. 

"I overheard Elena talking to Dr. Garcia," I say before taking a swig of my wine. "She said he was making a mistake pairing me up with Sebastian again because 'my lack of intelligence would interfere with his academic success.'"

Leah lets out a gasp. "Paired you up again?" 

"I know, right? I thought it was a one-time thing, but no. It's permanent. We're stuck being partners this year."

"I don't like that Elena girl," Leah says. "I only talked to her once, but she seemed bitchy to me."

"So, the nerd wasn't the one to talk to the professor?" Annie asks.

I shake my head. "Something’s going on with him. He approached me today, asking for my notes. The notes of dumb Barbie of all people."

"You're not dumb," Leah says.

"I am in his books. Anyway, I almost considered not giving the notes to him, but...I don't know; he looked off. Dark circles under his eyes kind of off. I felt pity."

"And then boom, there are sparks," Annie whispers, nudging Leah’s shoulder with hers.

I love the girls. But here’s the truth about friends in committed relationships — they try to pair everyone up, and it’s anything but subtle. "Never.” I rise to my feet, huffing. “He's judgmental and mean. Plus, his taste in girls is awful. And so is everything about him, from his stupid clothes to that hair."

Also, his height. And his smell. And his stupid smirk. And his ability to ruin the little progress we’ve made by pointing out my shirt is stained as if I didn’t know that. As if it wasn't because of his fuck buddy.

I go to my room to take my pink notebook and a bottle of perfume. Sheepish grins are plastered on my friends’ faces when I re-enter the living room.

"He has zero fashion sense and no common sense,” I say, opening my notes and generously spraying the pages with Miss Dior.

"So good," Annie says, sniffing the air.

"I bet Basti will love it. And this, too."

Judging by the gasps around me, Leah and Annie didn’t expect to see me pour glitter onto the pages, but that’s what I do, even though some of it will also stick to my hands and clothes.

"The Nerd can use some glow," I say, admiring the masterpiece I created. "Watching him get it out of his clothes and hair will be fun. Cause this will stick with him."

Leah giggles into her glass. "You're cruel." 

"Tara Van Doren might lose a battle."I wink at her. "But she always wins the war."