Truth be told, neither was I.
That’s not to say we let despair rule our existence. There was laughter; there were good days and bad. But things were invariably different. My dad had lost the love of his life, and that kind of loss takes its toll. It’s the reason I distanced myself from the idea of love—it’s the only guaranteed way not to get hurt.
Even though I loved creating art, my passion for it had diminished as of late. And I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Several of my professors had commented on the lack of desire in my latest assignments. I’d always prided myself on thinking outside the box. I wasn’t afraid to take risks with my paintings. The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward, but that mentality had no doubt faded. I was uninspired. And for an artist, there was no worse plight.
It seemed as if only a minute had passed when the lecture ended and everyone stood to leave. Knowing Wren would be a bit more agreeable to being woken up if I brought food, I headed over to a nearby bakery and grabbed a bag of bagels and some juice before making my way over to her new apartment.
Her new place was only a five-minute drive from campus. It was a miniscule studio apartment, but it felt like the Four Seasons compared to my dorm room. Much to my elation, Wren answered the door on the second knock.
“What?” she asked in an irritated tone.
“I’m sorry I woke you up, but I brought bagels.”
Her eyes lit up at the mention of food. Snagging the bag out of my hand, she ushered me inside. “Good. I’m starving and I haven’t had a chance to make a grocery run yet.”
Plopping on the mattress in the center of the room, she stared up at me. “I set out a spare key for you on the counter. Feel free to come sleep here any night you want. I usually come home late in the morning.”
“Thank you so much. I slept in the common room again last night.”
“Yikes.”
I watched as Wren grabbed two cinnamon bagels and slathered each with an unhealthy amount of cream cheese. Holding one out for me, I accepted it with a smile. “Thanks.”
“I hope you know I’m going to eat this and then go back to sleep.”
I laughed. “I figured as much. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so I’m going to lie down with you.”
I watched as she washed down a large bite with a swig of orange juice. “Oh, your text said you had things to tell me. What is it?”
“Umm,” I mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “well, I was forced to evacuate the dorm room because Brooklyn and Joe were playing doctor.”
She pretended to gag at my reply. “Fuck, I’d leave too.”
“So, naturally, I headed to the common room.”
“Naturally.”
I took another bite of my bagel and sucked down half the bottle of orange juice. For some reason, I was almost nervous to tell her that I had hung out with Ryan last night. Which was ridiculous, but here I was, fumbling over what words to force out of my mouth. “And because I had nothing else to do, I decided to study some statistics, but I got absolutely nowhere. I mean, honestly, what is the damn point of that class? Like what kind of life skills are we learning from that course?”
“Who knows? Personally, I think it’s all a money racket. Like, what book costs two hundred dollars? It’s a damn scam.”
“True that, babe,” I replied. “So, Ryan gave me his notes from class and left his number on them. He said to let him know if I needed help studying, and since I was failing by myself, I decided to text him.”
In an instant, Wren was all smiles. “You like him.”
“I do not! I like his brain.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
“Didn’t think someone so tired could muster up that much sass.”
“It’s a talent,” she countered smugly.
“Getting back to the story, he hung out with me in the common room and we studied all the notes from yesterday’s lecture. Surprisingly enough, Ryan is a great teacher and I actually understand some of the things Professor Leigh has been talking about.”
“That’s awesome.”
“I know! I have to pass that class to keep my scholarship.”
“And school sure ain’t cheap.”
“Nope.”
“So . . . y’all studied?”
When you’ve been friends with someone long enough, you learn to read their tone of voice or interpret their implications. My bestie was low-key asking if anything physical happened between Ryan and me. And truth be told, I loved her for it. She would always be there to give me a high five after I make out with a hot guy at a party or bail me out of a horrific blind date. The girl was an absolute gem.
“We studied for a few hours, and then we watched a movie together.”
“Did you ask him to stay?” she questioned.
“Maybe.”
“You so did. You find him intriguing because he made you blush.”
I groaned at her insinuation. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have said anything at all.”
“You texted me because you were excited about hanging out with him and wanted to tell me about it!”
I stared at her shrewdly. “What is it going to take for you to forget this?”
“So, so much.”
“Whatever.”
“In the years we’ve been friends, I’ve only seen you interested in a handful of guys, and even then, it was because you thought they were hot or had a nice body. You’ve never showed the slightest amount of interest in someone, even Blake, and y’all dated for a year.”
“I tried to like him.”
“I know, babe,” she replied with a sigh. “You just can’t let yourself get that involved.”
“What are you talking about? You and I are totally involved,” I countered in an attempt to lighten the conversation.
“Yeah, but we don’t sleep together.”
I feigned shock as I motioned toward the bed we were both occupying. “The evidence disputes your claim.”
“You know what I mean!”
“Do I?”
My question earned me another sassy eye roll. “If you ever find a man who can handle all that attitude housed in your body, you need to hold on to him with a death grip.”
“Geez, now you sound like your mother.”
“Don’t even get me started on that woman.”
“What? Your mom is the best!”
“She’s all about using college as a means to find a husband and all that Southern nonsense.”
“I suppose the majority of people do meet their spouses in college,” I stated.
“And when have we ever followed the majority?”
“In high school when we plucked our brows within a centimeter of their existence.”
Wren cringed at my reply. “Never again.”
“You got that right.” I glanced around at the blank walls of her apartment. “Are you planning to decorate this place?”
“I’d like to, but I really don’t have the time right now. Work is eating into all of my free time.”
“Yeah, you work all the damn time now.”
“I gotta eat.”
“True. I can decorate it for you if you want.”
“That would be amazing! Have at it.”
“Yay! I’ll get started this weekend!”
“Well,” she replied with a yawn, “I’d love to stay up and chat, but I’m beat. I’m going back to bed.”
“Same here.” Pulling off my shoes, I slid underneath the covers next to her. “Night, babe.”
“Night.”
I AWOKE IN WREN’S bed a few hours later. The thick curtains were pulled over the windows, bathing the entire space in darkness. It was almost five, and I still needed to get ready to see Ryan. Because Wren was fast asleep, I skipped the goodbyes and snatched up the key she’d left for me on the counter.
Overall, her apartment was small. The kitchen was barely large enough for one person, but it was so much better than her living with Liam. Even before she had
caught him cheating, she hadn’t been happy for a long time. That knowledge weighed heavily on me. All I wanted was to see her happy again and that meant being there for her in any way I could. Wren had always been there for me, especially after I lost Mom. Her strength and love instilled some life back into my heart—life that cancer had all but taken away. Now, it was my turn to take care of Wren. And there was something I could do to cheer her up. I could decorate her apartment and make it look beautiful for her. Wren deserved all the happiness in the world, and it was my job to remind her of that.
It didn’t take long to get back to campus. As I trudged up the steps to my dorm, I couldn’t help but question the plan Ryan and I had devised. It was ingenious, there was no doubt about it, but would pretending to sleep with him only make me want to do the deed more?
I didn’t have much time to ponder my predicament, because my phone was buzzing in my pocket. Seeing the call was from my dad, I answered quickly.
“Hey, Daddy.”
“Hey, angel. How was your week?”
“It was good. What about yours?”
“No complaints here. You know the office stays busy, but I’m so used to it I don’t notice.”
“That’s good.”
“How’s Wren doing?”
“About as well as can be expected, all things considered. You know how she is though.”
“Yeah. If there is anything I can do, you’ll give me a call?”
“You know I will.”
“Your favorite holiday is coming up. I sent you a few things in the mail, so be sure to look out for them.”
“I will, thanks.”
“So, any news about the big art show? I know you said the other week they would announce the featured artists sometime soon,” he said.
“It should be the week after Thanksgiving, I think. Tickets should go on sale sometime next month.”
“Let me know when so that I can come see your work.”
“I don’t even know if any of my paintings or projects will be featured yet.”
“I do,” he answered with complete confidence.
That was my dad. He always had faith in me and my abilities as an artist. According to him, there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that I could make a living off my artwork.
I only hoped that one day I could be as confident as he was.
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“You can do anything you set your mind to, remember that.”
“I will.”
“Will Wren be at the show too?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “She is planning on being there, so I’ll be sure to get both of you tickets.”
“I’m really looking forward to it.”
There was a lightness to his voice I hadn’t heard in a while. Dad always put on a good show. He had a great job and friends, but most people didn’t realize how much sadness still lingered inside him. Losing the love of his life had left a deep wound on his soul, and while it had healed, the scar would always remain.
And I knew exactly how he felt, because my scar was in the same place, right across my heart.
“And I’ll also be home for Thanksgiving. Wren and I are going to drive back together.”
“Okay, I’ll let Shelly know we’ll be there again for the holiday.”
“One of these years, I’m going to talk Wren’s mom into cooking chicken pot pie instead of the traditional roasted turkey.” Wren’s parents always invited dad and I over to spend the holidays with them. Their invitation came the first year after mom passed, but now it was like a tradition for all of us. We were a patchwork family of sorts.
My dad chuckled at my declaration. “Shelly’s cooking is only second to your mother’s. No one can make a peach cobbler like she could.”
“Agreed.”
“Well, angel, I won’t keep you any longer. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I slid my phone back into my purse and made my way down the hall. One of the girls who lived in the room next to mine smiled at me as I passed. I may not have known her personally, but sharing a bathroom with an utter stranger, well three strangers to be exact, bonded us in a way most people wouldn’t understand. You’re never more vulnerable than when you’re in the shower—it’s the sole reason horror movies love to trap their victims there.
And needless to say, we’ve all walked in on one another while in the buff several times this semester.
Hurrying to my room, I discarded my stuff on my bed and grabbed my robe, a towel, and my razor. I still had a meeting . . . an appointment . . . a whatever the hell it was . . . to get ready for, and I didn’t intend to smell like a barn full of cows.
I was in and out of the shower within minutes, and I made sure to shave every part of my body that needed it. Not that I was expecting anything to happen between Ryan and me, but pretending we were going to have sex meant we would have to be in some sort of state of undress in order to convince our audience. And I had no intentions of being anything less than prepared. Glee filled my stomach as I thought of the look on Brooklyn’s face when she caught Ryan and me together.
Once I was back in my room, I dried my hair and touched up my makeup. My next challenge was deciding what kind of undies to wear. My undergarments would set the tone for this whole charade, and truthfully, I wanted to look good. No, not good. That adjective wouldn’t suffice. Hot is the descriptor I was after. Because, after all, I needed to match Ryan.
Red.
That was the color I needed to wear. It was the color of lips, of lust, and Wren always said I looked amazing in it. Rushing to my dresser, I rifled through my panty drawer in search of the lace set I’d bought at Victoria’s Secret last year. The tips of my fingers caressed the delicate lace with affection. It had been an impulse purchase. I had bought this set with the intention of wearing it for someone, but as luck would have it, I hadn’t met any guy worth my time. Even if tonight was just an act, I could still show off my lingerie. It had been benched for way too long, and now was the perfect time for it to see some action.
I changed into those panties and bra like a superhero sliding on their cape. A rush of confidence ignited in my bones. I wasn’t the type to bathe in self-doubt, but that didn’t mean I had no insecurities. That was simply a part of being a woman, of being human.
My phone lit up just as I finished covering up the MVP in the scheme Ryan and I were about to put on. Brooklyn’s text covered my screen, letting me know that she was on her way back to the dorm. Typically, that was code for vacate the premises or witness the magic of Joe and me humping. Since I had no intentions of doing either, I didn’t even bother to reply.
Ryan would be here any minute, and now that I was ready, nervous energy simmered in the pit of my stomach. It bubbled like the contents of a witch’s cauldron.
Every inch of my skin became warmer by the second. This wasn’t going to work. There was no way I could fake arousal if I was drenched in sweat.
Fake? Yeah, keep dreaming, bitch, the snarky part of my brain cackled. With those periwinkle eyes watching me, there wouldn’t be a damn thing to fake. There was only one solution I could think of to help ease the tension coiling in my gut.
And that was vodka.
I tossed back my fourth shot as I heard a knock at the door. Discarding the bottle of vodka and glass in the drawer beneath my bed, I sprinted to the door.
Ryan stood in the hall, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a tight V-neck. He looked freaking edible. “Hey.”
“Hi!” Grabbing his hand, I jerked him inside. “I thought you were going to call me when you were outside.”
“I was, but another girl let me in. I told her I was here to see you, so she opened the door for me.”
“Oh, okay. And you had no trouble finding my room?”
The sound of Ryan’s laughter filled my ears. “Nope, no trouble. The rooms are
numbered, after all.”
“Smart ass,” I mumbled. My comment was met with more laughter. “Well, Brooklyn just texted me and said she’d be back in a few minutes, so we don’t have much time.”
“Alright. Do you want me to sit down?”
“Can you do something for me first?” I asked innocently.
“Sure.”
“Can you lift up your shirt for a second?”
“Why? Is something wrong with this shirt?” He lifted the bottom half of his T-shirt, showcasing the most cut set of abs I’d ever laid eyes on. “Should I have chosen a different one?”
One, two, three, four, five . . . six. Yep, all six of those babies were there, just as I suspected. “No, that shirt is perfect,” I replied with a giggle. Vodka coursed through my bloodstream, fueling my laughter.
“Are you feeling okay?”
“I feel great.”
“Something seems off.”
“Nothing is off . . . yet.”
Ryan motioned me forward with a simple curl of his finger. “Come here.”
“Why?”
Bending toward me, he moved until his mouth was almost on top of mine. Sucking in a deep breath of air, he stared at me in shock. “Are you drunk?”
“No!”
“Terayn.”
“I had a few shots. I am buzzed, not drunk. There’s a difference.”
“And why did you think you needed to get buzzed?”
“I was nervous! Plus, I get really loud when I’ve been drinking, so I thought it would add some dramatic flair to our performance.”
“You’re nervous?”
“What? I’m only human.”
“I’m nervous too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he answered with a laugh. “Would you mind if I had a drink too?”
“Not at all!” I retrieved the vodka and shoved the bottle in his hands. “Drink up.”
“Thanks.” Ryan turned the bottle upward and chugged. After a few seconds, he stopped and handed back the vodka. “Now, at least we’ll be on an even playing field.”
Not Without You Page 4