All of Me

thirty five • hit the fan

• • •

The first week back at college after the Thanksgiving break is pretty good. Great, even. I get a head start on two essays due in at the end of the semester and in a rare moment of not being an ass, my boss gives me a raise. An extra seventy-five cents an hour doesn't sound like much but it's ten bucks a week that I didn't have before. By Thursday, the week couldn't be going any better.

It's Friday that everything turns to shit.

By the time it hits twelve o'clock and Gray and I have a break between classes, my stomach is rumbling so loud that half of Starbucks can hear it. Until an hour ago, I was supposed to be seeing Liam for lunch but he couldn't make it. I haven't seen him for more than a few snatched minutes since Tuesday, but it's actually quite nice to spend more time with Gray.

Weird, I know. We live together, after all, and we spend three hours a day in the car together, but it's different. It's so nice to just sit down with him, armed with a couple of hot drinks – it turns out Ohio has pretty bitter winters, and the last week of November has proven to be vile so far – and talk without having to keep my eyes on the road.

He sits cross-legged on the sofa, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his clasped hands. We were lucky to get this space. In this weather, everyone wants to be in the heat of the coffee shop, but Gray seems to have a magical power that means there's always a seat available right as we make it.

"I don't know what to get Nav for Christmas," he says, chewing his thumbnail. "Her family doesn't technically celebrate Christmas but ... it's Christmas. I've gotta get her something."

I hadn't even thought about that. I've never had to think of anyone but Mom and Kris for Christmas but now my family has practically doubled. We only have another two weeks of this semester before the break, which is ridiculous when we just had a whole week off for Thanksgiving, but then we're right back on the second of January.

"She loves books," I say. I've never been good at giving gifts. I hate assuming what someone will like. When I was a kid, I'd give Mom and Dad coupons, silly things like offering to do the dishes or make them breakfast.

"But she works in a bookstore. She knows all the books."

"I promise you, you know more. You could do her personal recommendations, or a stack that makes you think of her or something." I form a square with my hands and say, "You could write out notecards for why you chose each one."

His eyes light up and he sits a little straighter, bringing his mocha to his lips. "That's a good idea, actually. Reckon she'd like it?"

"She'd love it," I say. I know she'll love whatever he does: she's told me as much several times. He can do no wrong. She's smitten.

"Awesome. What about you? Any plans for hot frat guy?"

"I don't know." I sigh. I can't exactly do him a book of coupons. Can I? I don't think I can. They'd probably have to be dirty, and I don't want to do that. "I'll think of something."

"Nearly four weeks until Christmas anyway," he says. "You've got time. And worst-case scenario, just give him a good time." He winks and lurches away in anticipation of me poking him – even though I don't – and he manages to slosh his drink over himself in the process.

He's a mess, but I love him.

"Speaking of lover boy," he says, "where is he?"

"Frat stuff," I say. I'm assuming, anyway. Whenever Liam's busy, it's something frat-related. I'm not sure when he gets any work done, all his time spent with me or his brothers, but I've seen his grades. He can get an eighty on an essay with minimal effort. Though I wouldn't be surprised if they have some kind of communal workforce, everyone helping each other out. Maybe they pay the smart ones.