Sixty one

Asher

The rustle of paper was the only sound in my dorm room as Maeve and I both lay on our beds, me reading a textbook as I tried frantically to catch up after missing an entire week of classes, her flipping through the pages of a glossy fashion magazine.

“Oh, I love that,” she murmured, causing me to glance up from my notes just in time to see her magic herself into a shirt that read ‘Peg the Patriarchy.’

“Discreet,” I said with a laugh.

“Who’s trying to be discreet?”

“You’re hilarious.”

She lifted her shoulders and offered me an air kiss. “I know. It’s one of...