Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 30

"Did you really only need seventeen minutes, Julianna?" Piper's voice rings out before I've even crossed a few steps into the hallway. "I thought you'd need all twenty." Laughter follows her words. I take a deep breath, stand tall, and continue down the hall, entering the kitchen.

"Are we all ready?" I inquire, sweeping my hair off my shoulder. Piper's smug smile fades, Kyle stumbles into the pony wall by the front door while wrestling with his shoes, and Mark accidentally sprays beer across Chloe, who recoils with a disgusted exclamation.

"Ew!" Chloe shrieks, jumping up to grab a paper towel from the kitchen. The sudden silence makes me feel like all seven pairs of eyes in the room are locked on me.

"Well, it seems to be effective, huh?" Mark coughs, giving me a thumbs-up when I ask. "Fantastic. Let's give it a whirl at the frat house." Everyone gets up, retrieves their coats and shoes, and starts heading out. Kent, however, doesn't rise immediately. We share a few seconds of mutual staring before I speak up, prompting him to stand.

Kent and I decide to walk to the frat house together. I'm not particularly fond of this plan. In fact, its success largely depends on whether I'll be feeling hot or cold, so the odds don't appear to be in my favor from the start.

"What's your take on all this?" He asks in a hushed tone as we stroll, and I look up at him.

"Do you think this is right?" I inquire, offering a smile as I pose the question.

"I don't like it when Piper wins," he admits with a smirk. "Especially when the bet is about your appearance."

"What do you mean?" I prod for more information, and we move slightly away from the rest of the group. He clears his throat.

"What I mean is, she wants you for the wrong reasons," he explains in a soft voice. "And she's making you feel bad about how you look, even though there isn't a guy in the world who wouldn't let you into a frat." His words come out in an awkward, hushed manner that quickens my heart rate.

Is that a good thing to say? "You look beautiful tonight, Julianna," and "Any creepy finance-bro frat guy would let you into a sweaty party" are two very different statements. But if Kent's praise was all that mattered, then maybe it was just fine.

"I suppose that's true," I reply slowly, earning a nod from him. "Look, you and I aren't exactly fond of each other, but we need to act like we are if we want this to work."

"Agreed," he sighs, seeming to understand. "So, what's the plan? We're not here for a date."

"I'm not either," I say with a grin. "I'd rather extinguish a campfire with my face." He genuinely laughs at that, and I can't help but chuckle along. "Why don't you just talk about yourself?" I suggest. "Piper mentioned, 'I don't feel like I know anything about you.'"

"Alright," he agrees, pausing to think. "Brown was my second choice when I was applying to colleges."

"Really?" I'm intrigued, and he nods.

"Yeah," he continues, "Dartmouth wasn't my first pick. I had an answer ready as soon as you asked. Initially, I was planning on getting a sports scholarship to go to Michigan State."

"Wow, that's impressive."

"For what sport?" I inquire.

"Football," he shakes his head. "I played running back during my senior year of high school, and thanks to my dad's connections, I was constantly being scouted. They were willing to cover all expenses, and I managed to convince my dad that it was a reasonable compromise." He talks, and I nod, engrossed in our conversation. It doesn't bother me that we're slowly falling behind the rest of the group; what we're discussing is fascinating.

"Why didn't you go?" I wonder when he finishes.

"I broke my back," Kent says softly, and I turn to look at him. "After a bad tackle in one of my last games, I lost feeling in my toes. I didn't think I'd be able to walk again." Sympathy for Kent wells up in me for the first time in my life. "I was going to be in rehab for over a year, and my doctors told me that continuing to play would make it worse. So I made a change."

"Oh my god," I mumble, feeling a pang of compassion. "How are you doing now?"

"Yeah, I just can't play contact sports like that anymore. Too risky for my back," he sighs.

"Your decision to take a year off makes more sense now," I remark, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I'm here because of that. It was a long way from my home, but that's all that mattered to me," he says with a hint of nostalgia.

"First of all, where are you from?" I realize I have no idea.

"The Big Apple," he answers with a nod. I had assumed Kent had a privileged life in New York, attending white people's parties in the Hamptons and such. "Now, tell me about yourself."

I have to think hard when he prods me, feeling like he already knows most of what he needs to know about me.

"Is it something silly or important?" I ask, curious.

"I'm sure you have plenty of funny stories, but tell me one that's as significant as my broken back," he suggests.

"Okay," I nod and take a deep breath. "At the beginning of the summer, I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome." I shake my head, acknowledging the weight of my revelation.

"What's that?" Kent inquires with genuine concern, and I let out a quiet sigh, realizing how much he's learning about women's bodies in this conversation.

"It means that instead of releasing an egg during my ovulation, cysts grow on the outside of my ovaries," I explain. "It happens because my hormones don't function properly, so I started taking a new medication. I used to weigh significantly more because of it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'd say at least three sizes bigger in jeans," I admit. "I'm not like Piper or Abby, and I hope I don't resemble either of them. But it's made me feel much better about myself." I shrug, noticing that we're getting closer to our destination. "I know it's not the same as being in a wheelchair for life, but it's significant to me. I don't tell anyone because most of the people I know now didn't know me when I was heavier. So, I don't want those who don't need to know to find out."

"Julianna, I'm sorry for what she said about your weight," Kent says quietly, and I shake my head.

"It's okay," I try to reassure him, giving his arm a gentle push. He smiles.

"Did you see Mark spit out his beer?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood. "If anything, this is a good sign that Piper is bluffing."

"You're right," he chuckles. "If I had to bet all my money on one girl to get me into a frat for free, I'd bet on you." His words make my cheeks flush. It's probably the nicest thing he's ever said to me, and it changes the way I feel about him, not because he gave me a ride to work or rolled down the car windows. It's because he's the first person who's made me feel good about myself.

"Alright, folks, the more plans, the better!" Piper yells from the front of the group. "Good luck, everyone!" She shouts and points ahead as we reach a bustling area on Greek Row.

The house was teeming with people, and a lengthy queue awaited us at the entrance. If we wanted this plan to succeed, we had to come up with something clever.

Surprisingly, it appeared that Kent and I might finally be able to collaborate. His revelation about his past had changed my perspective on him, making it easier for me to understand his personality.

"Ready?" Kent asks, and I nod, clearing my throat.

I can handle this.