One Perfect Summer by Rachel Hawthorne

Author:Rachel Hawthorne
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 2

It was unmistakably obvious that Jordan had moved in already. It was equally obvious that she didn’t realize we’d only be here for three months or that she was sharing a room with someone. I gingerly made my way through the quagmire of crap that she’d left in the room: discarded boxes, strewn clothes, inline skates, tennis racket—did she think we were on vacation here?

A single bed was on either side of the room. On the far wall, a desk—one for me, one for my roomie—sat on either side of the window that looked out over the lake. The blinds were raised and I had a spectacular view of the water.

My desk had a phone. Hers had a computer, a television, and an iPod speaker setup. I assumed since the bed on the right was covered in clothes that Jordan had claimed that side of the room. The dresser beside it was cluttered, the accordion door of her closet half open.

Sitting on what I perceived to be my bed, my solitary suitcase and backpack on the floor beside me, I wondered if I should try to find Zoe (London, England) and ask for a room transfer. My roommate was a slob. Not that I was a neat freak or anything—I mean, my mom had to threaten me with withholding my allowance to get me to clean my room—but let’s get real here.

At home, the entire room was my domain. Here, we were supposed to learn about living with someone new, giving and taking equally, sharing, respecting the other person’s space.

Jordan had three-fourths of the space already.

My impression of her had formed: slob, inconsiderate, disaster—

The phone rang.

I knew it couldn’t be for me. I hadn’t given anyone the number yet. Besides, I had a cell phone in the front pocket of my backpack that anyone who knew me would use. I thought about letting the phone on the desk go unanswered, but it goes against my nature. There’s just something about the ringing of the phone that calls to me to pick it up. Even when I know it isn’t going to be for me. So I did what any self-respecting girl would do. I snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Is this Jordan’s room?”

“No, this is her roommate.” I don’t know what possessed me to toss out a smart comment, but the guy laughed.

“Pretty funny! Is she there?”

“Nope.”

“Can I leave a message?”

“Sure.”

“Just tell her, ‘Cole loves ya.’”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

He hung up. I reached down, grabbed my backpack, set it on my bed, and pulled out my decision-maker. Compared to modern technology, my decision-maker was pretty old-fashioned: a spiral notebook where I list the pros and cons for any major decision, so that I always make wise and informed choices. It’s kind of an obsession with me. Sarah is always telling me that I take it to the extreme, but I believe in looking at all the options.

I turned to the last page, jerked out a blank sheet of paper, and wrote, “Cole called.” No way was I going to get into delivering really personal messages about love.

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