Silver had barely managed to extract her toiletries from the depths of her duffel bag when Americus materialized beside her bed like a sequined genie, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"We need a bonding night. Mandatory roommate tradition."
Silver looked up from where she was arranging her sparse collection of belongings on the narrow desk—a few textbooks she'd ordered online, her phone charger, and a small bottle of prescription pain medication she tried to keep out of sight. "Mandatory?"
"Obviously." Americus already had her phone out, fingers flying across the screen with the speed of someone who treated texting like an Olympic sport. "Dorm room decorating can wait. The fairy lights will still be fairy lights tomorrow. First things first—pizza. Nothing bonds souls together like grease, cheese, and questionable life choices made at nine PM."
Before Silver could formulate an argument—or even a coherent response—Americus was already spinning toward their door with characteristic dramatic flair. "Riley's coming too. You're going to love her."
"Riley?"
"My other half. The calm to my storm. The method to my madness." Americus paused, one hand on the door handle, grinning with the kind of mischief that probably got her in trouble on a regular basis. "You'll see."
The pizza place turned out to be exactly the kind of establishment that every college town seemed legally required to have—a narrow slice of real estate squeezed between a used bookstore and a laundromat, with neon signs buzzing in the window and an interior that looked like it hadn't been updated since the Carter administration. The smell hit Silver the moment they walked through the door: melted mozzarella, garlic, yeast, and that particular aroma of a place where generations of students had fueled late-night study sessions with carbohydrates and caffeine.
Mismatched vinyl booths lined the walls, their red surfaces cracked with age and patched with duct tape that had been applied with more hope than skill. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of black and white tiles, several of which had been replaced over the years with pieces that didn't quite match. Behind the counter, a massive pizza oven radiated heat that made the whole place feel like a sauna, and the walls were covered with signed photographs of Yale students spanning what looked like decades.
Silver leaned against the scarred wooden counter, watching as Americus ordered with the confidence of someone who had clearly done this many times before. "Two large pies—one pepperoni and mushroom, one with everything that won't kill us. And three Cokes. The real kind, not the diet stuff. We're living dangerously tonight."
They claimed a booth by the window just as a girl with soft chestnut hair and the kind of genuinely warm smile that couldn't be faked appeared in the doorway. She spotted them immediately and made her way over, balancing three sodas with the practiced ease of someone who had worked in food service.
"Silver, meet Riley Giles," Americus announced with characteristic dramatic flair, gesturing between them like she was introducing heads of state. "The yin to my glittery yang. The peanut butter to my jelly. The voice of reason that keeps me from getting arrested on a weekly basis."
Riley slid into the booth across from Silver, rolling her eyes with obvious affection. "Hi. Americus told me you were mysterious and possibly dangerous to know."
Silver blinked, caught off guard by the directness. "Dangerous?"
"She has a tendency toward hyperbole," Riley explained, shooting Americus a look that managed to be both fond and exasperated. "I've learned to automatically divide everything she says by about three to get the actual truth. It's safer for everyone involved."
Despite herself, Silver felt her lips twitch upward. "I'll keep that in mind."
The pizzas arrived in a cloud of steam that made Silver's stomach growl with surprising intensity. She hadn't realized how little she'd eaten during the stress of travel and move-in. Americus immediately claimed a slice loaded with enough toppings to constitute a small ecosystem—pepperoni, olives, pineapple, and what looked like three different kinds of cheese. Silver hesitated for a moment, then reached for a more conservative piece with just cheese, the grease immediately soaking through the thin paper plate.
For a while, conversation flowed around the usual freshman orientation topics—which professors were rumored to be impossible, which dining halls had the best coffee, whether the Gothic architecture was inspiring or just intimidating. Americus carried most of the verbal load, her voice bright enough to compete with the neon signs outside. Riley contributed quieter observations that somehow managed to ground Americus's more dramatic proclamations in something approaching reality.
Silver mostly listened, content to let the chatter wash over her while she processed this strange new experience. It felt almost surreal to sit in a booth with girls her own age who weren't competitors or training partners, who didn't know her ranking or her personal best scores. No one mentioned triple Lutzes or spiral sequences. No one asked about her injury with that particular combination of curiosity and pity she'd grown to hate. They were just normal college freshmen complaining about textbook prices and wondering if their professors would actually notice if they skipped the occasional lecture.
After they'd made significant progress through both pizzas, Americus turned her attention fully to Silver with the kind of laser focus that probably made her an excellent student when she chose to apply it.
"Okay, mystery roommate. Time to spill. What's your actual thing?"
The question hit Silver like a physical blow, even though she'd been expecting it all evening. Her "thing" had always been so obvious it barely needed stating. Silver Preston: figure skater, national competitor, Olympic hopeful. Until three months ago, when all of those labels had been stripped away in the space of a single disastrous landing.
"Nothing much," she muttered, picking at the crust of her pizza slice.
"Absolute lies," Americus declared around a mouthful of what appeared to be her fourth slice. "Everyone has a thing. It's like a fundamental law of human existence. Riley's thing is being secretly brilliant at everything while pretending she doesn't know what she's doing. Mine is obviously being fabulous and spreading joy through the strategic application of glitter. Yours is...?"
Riley, apparently sensing Silver's discomfort, leaned forward slightly. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. Americus comes on strong, but she means well."
Silver felt a wave of gratitude for the easy out, but Americus just grinned wider. "Mystery adds intrigue to any social dynamic. I'll figure you out eventually, Preston. I'm like a detective, but with better fashion sense."
Silver rolled her eyes, though she could feel a genuine smile threatening to break through her carefully maintained defenses.
The evening stretched on as the pizza disappeared slice by slice. The neon signs outside painted everything in alternating washes of red and blue light, and the steady hum of college-town nightlife filtered through the windows—students calling to friends across the street, car doors slamming, the distant sound of music from someone's dorm room party. For the first time since her fall at Nationals, Silver felt the constant tightness in her chest begin to ease just slightly.
Americus leaned back in the booth, using a stack of napkins to clean pizza grease from her rings. "Okay, I'm officially declaring this a success. We're a trio now. Yale's resident chaos agent, secret genius, and..." She pointed directly at Silver with renewed theatrical flair. "Brooding mystery girl with hidden depths."
"I don't brood," Silver protested, though her tone lacked any real conviction.
"You absolutely brood," Americus shot back immediately. "It's like your signature move. Very dramatic. I respect it."
Riley laughed, the sound soft but genuine. "She kind of has a point. You do have a certain mysterious wounded heroine thing going on."
Silver shook her head, but the warmth spreading through her chest was becoming harder to ignore. Maybe she didn't entirely hate this new dynamic after all.
Then Americus's eyes lit up with the kind of dangerous sparkle that probably preceded most of her best and worst ideas. She leaned forward across the table, lowering her voice to what she probably thought was a conspiratorial whisper but which carried clearly to the neighboring booths.
"I know exactly how to take this bonding experience to the next level. Want to meet my brothers?"
Silver frowned, trying to process this sudden shift in conversational direction. "Your brothers go to Yale too?"
Americus's grin widened until it threatened to split her face entirely in half. "Not exactly brothers. More like... chosen family. The kind of boys who've collectively adopted me as their little sister and would probably commit actual crimes if anyone ever hurt my feelings." She paused for maximum dramatic effect, clearly savoring the moment. "Hockey players."