Out on Good Behavior (Radleigh University Book 3) by Dahlia Adler Page A

populated by the time the doors closed at eleven.
    “Yeah, I guess so,” I murmur, wondering how I managed not to let that register until just now.
    But I already know the answer. It’s because I wasn’t lonely for a minute of last night, not even when I only had one guest.
    Especially not when I only had one guest.
    Fuck.
    P.S. You’re pushing to pay because you want this to be a date , Lizzie’s voice adds out of nowhere, just to rub salt in the gaping wounds of my romantic confusion
    Fuuuuuck.
    Time for a subject change.
    I use the mention of classmates showing up to shift topics, and by the time our waffles are nothing but crumbs, we’ve talked about classes, mid-terms, Samara’s favorite books, my favorite paintings, and the fact that Cait still hasn’t learned that a bedroom floor is not a replacement for a hamper. Everything feels back to normal, which is of course when Samara pulls the wound right back open.
    “I didn’t want to ask at your show, but…is everything okay? With your parents, I mean. When you said people were bailing, I didn’t realize that included them.”
    I drag the tines of my fork through a bit of spilled sugar on the coated wooden tabletop. “Oh. Yeah. Everything’s fine. Work thing came up for my dad, and my mom gets anxious about traveling on her own, so.”
    “Like…anxious anxious?”
    Oh, right; Sam’s a Psych student. Actual anxiety isn’t exactly alien to her. “Yup.”
    “Ah, I didn’t realize. I’m really sorry they missed it. I’m sure they’re so proud of you, though. I hope you sent them pictures.”
    That’s it. Jesus. She learns my mother has debilitating anxiety and she actually understands what that means and that’s all she has to say about it. How does this girl manage to make me feel so unsettled and so comfortable at the same time? “I texted a few.”
    My voice is a little weak as I respond through the weird flood of emotions I never expected to experience in a booth at Double-Dub, and she doesn’t miss it. “I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry or anything. It’s none of my business.”
    “No, it’s—you’re not prying,” I assure her. “I’m just not used to people getting the anxiety thing. And I would’ve explained last night, but I know you’re already having a hard time with your parents, and I thought it was better if parents were just kinda…off the table.”
    She smiles briefly. “If only it were that easy to forget them.”
    I signal the waitress who’d just cleared our plates and order us both teas—it’s not hard to pick up that that’s a comfort thing for Sam. “Speaking of which, whatever happened with the whole dorm room thing?”
    She exhales sharply. “You don’t even want to know.”
    “That bad?”
    “Oh, no, it wasn’t. Because I lied,” she says flatly. “I told them Cait and Mase broke up. Rather than say, ‘y’all are being racist jerks,’ I lied. I am so, so sick of being a cowardly liar.”
    A prickle steals over my skin, and I can’t help but wonder what else she’s lying about.
    But I’ve got a pretty good idea.
    I reach across the table and squeeze her hand, just as a tear snakes down her cheek. “Now I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
    “No, no, please—that’s definitely not your fault.” She uses her free hand to rub the tear into her skin. “Sorry, I’ve been an extra-big mess lately. God, this is embarrassing.”
    “You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of me, ever,” I say softly but firmly.
    She looks down at our hands and withdraws hers, and something inside my stomach sinks like a stone. The waitress of course chooses that moment to bring our teas, but I can’t imagine choking anything else down right now. I went too far, and this got weird, and I have no idea what the fuck I am doing with this girl. “Sorry, I—”
    “Can we go hang out at your apartment or something?” she interrupts. “I’m sorry, I know we just got these,