Infatuate Read Online Free PDF Page A

whistling as he walked.
    “Southern gentlemen, gotta love ’em.” Dante shrugged, like it was no big deal, as if sensing the ripple pass between Lance and me. He pushed past Lance into their room.
    “I’m gonna unpack,” Lance announced. He kissed me on the cheek, then followed Dante as I rushed ahead. Connor had stopped outside a door with a sign reading TCHOUPITOULAS , which I had seen in my guidebook but hoped to avoid ever having to pronounce. He opened the door.
    “Just out of curiosity . . .” I pointed to the sign.
    He smiled. “The T is silent.”
    “Good to know, thanks.”
    The room looked like it belonged in a dollhouse: eggplant-hued, with a tall, skinny window looking out onto the courtyard, one long silver desk, two chairs, a closet running the length of one wall . . . and one bed. I breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like I would be rooming solo.
    “So, these rooms are all a little bit quirky,” Connor started as he set my suitcase beside the bed. He walked over to a gauzy curtain hanging along the wall. He whipped it open to reveal a ladder and a loft carved into the wall with a mattress inside and a small night table. The ceilings were high and airy enough, but even so, you wouldn’t be able to stand up in this nook. It was a cozy little spot—and a nice bit of privacy—but I knew what it meant. “A bunch of the rooms have this loft situation. I’ll let you and Sabine decide who’s bunkin’ where.”
    “Sabine?”
    “She got here a little while ago and went out. She’s from”—he consulted his clipboard once more—“Boston, looks like.”
    “Sabine from Boston,” I repeated, starting to feel nervous.
    “Right, so seven thirty in the common room,” he said, pointing at me. “There’s a welcome kit for each of you in the dressers.”
    “Got it.” He opened up the closet to reveal two identical silver dressers, the size of filing cabinets, and a suitcase and matching bag. “Thanks.”
    He let himself out and said, “Need anything, lemme know.” I smiled and thanked him.
    I poked around the room. Sabine had claimed one of the dressers and unpacked already, her clothes folded in precise rows. I hopped onto the bed to survey the room and heard a crunch. I gazed at the crisp sheet of paper that had been left:
     
Hi!
I’m Sabine. Nice to meet you! A few of us went to get some beignets. Here’s my number if you want to join up. Otherwise, look forward to meeting you tonight!
Yours, Sabine
     
    Her handwriting was pretty and full of uniformly round, bubble-shaped letters. I thought of calling the number she’d left, but something—nerves?—held me back. Instead, I simply set to work unpacking.

3. You’ll Be One of Us Soon
    At 7:25 p.m. Dante and I emerged simultaneously from our rooms ready to make our way to that color-splashed living room, my stomach a little queasy at the thought of meeting so many new people, and just the newness of it all, of learning to navigate this town, period. I felt like I was standing in a field waiting to be struck by lightning—again—with nowhere to go for cover, and I just wasn’t sure I was ready to dodge and outrun it yet again.
    Dante, as usual, helped shake me out of it as soon as he saw me. “You’re welcome,” he said, preemptively, staring at my outfit.
    “Thank you, Dante,” I said flatly, embarrassed, fanning out the gauzy layers of my knee-length plum chiffon dress to curtsy my appreciation. It was the sort of thing I never would have chosen myself—nipped in at the waist, it had jeweled straps and a sprinkling of clear crystals that made it shimmer all over. But, girly as it was, when I put it on, I actually liked it.
    “You know you didn’t really want to wear that old homecoming dress.” He turned up his nose at the thought. He was forever calling me out for my sartorial choices; when our information packets had arrived in Chicago labeling these New Year’s festivities as “semiformal,” he had forced me out to