by Geneva Lee
“You’re distracted by that boy.” The disgust was absent from her voice this time, instead her eyes sparkled a little as she said it as though she was inviting me to dish on my relationship with Liam.
I swallowed against the lump jammed in my throat. “That won’t be a problem anymore.”
“It’s my fault,” Tara said, tapping her wine glass. “He was nice, but I lost it when I found you in that bathroom. I guess sometimes I still see you as my little girl, but regardless, I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that.”
“I sort of embarrassed myself,” I admitted.
Tara leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Your father and I have screwed in bathrooms, too.”
I covered my ears and shook my head. “Maybe we should draw the line at our sex lives?” I suggested.
“Fair enough.” She swallowed the last bit of her chardonnay. “But love lives are another story.”
“I don’t have a love life,” I said with a shrug. “Never have.”
Tara snorted and stood up from the bar stool. “I saw the way he looked at you.”
“And how was that?” I asked, not sure I wanted to hear the answer.
“Like you hung the moon.”
I rolled my eyes at her, but she simply smiled and headed toward the bathroom to begin her hour-long skincare ritual, leaving me alone with memory of Liam’s eyes on mine.
The communications department was deserted on Monday by the time I dragged myself across campus to face Markson. I'd hidden in my room for the better part of a week, but now I had to deal with things. My footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, and for a second, I was sure this was exactly how a death-row inmate felt. Dead man walking indeed. I needed Markson's class to stay at full-time status with the university. But there was no way I could handle working with Liam after what happened last weekend.
Markson's door was open, so I peeked my head in, half of me hoping he wouldn't be there. No such luck. His office, if you could call it that, was a small desk crammed into a room the size of a supplies closet. Check that, supplies closets were probably bigger than this. He beckoned for me to come in, closing his laptop and settling back in his chair expectantly.
The only personal item in the room was a photograph of a large family, each person smiling, on a too-perfect beach. I looked more closely until I spotted him. Each member of the group shared Markson's deep brown eyes and thick, oil-black hair. He was significantly less tanned than most of them though.
"My family," he said.
"That's not Olympic Falls," I noted. The beaches around here were rugged, full of driftwood and craggy bluffs. The beach in Markson's photo stretched into miles of white sand and clear water.
"They live in Puerto Vallerta," he explained. "My mother's side. My father grew up in Montana."
"That sounds like a story," I said.
"It is." But he didn't offer to tell it. "What can I help you with Miss Nichols?"
I took a deep breath ready to launch into a hundred reasons why I needed him to change my class partner. "I have a request."
"I'm listening." Markson folded his hands behind his head and waited.
It was strange to have someone who was only a few years older than me act with such authority. I'd gotten the impression from Jess that he was more laid back, even funny. But then again, enough bad evaluations could change any professor's approach to their interactions with students.
I needed to spit it out. "I'd like a new class partner.
"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Heat flashed onto my cheeks, but I managed a quick bob of my head. "Something like that."
"I'll level with you." Markson leaned forward and looked me in the eye. "I don't have enough students to pair you off with someone else, and what you're asking me to do could significantly damage other students' grades. Do you think it's fair to the other groups to ask them to change at this point in the course?"
A lump was forming in my throat, growing from a tiny pebble into what felt like an Indiana Jones size boulder. I couldn't force any words out past it, but I shook my head. He was absolutely right about asking my classmates to switch this late in the semester.
"Unfortunately," Markson continued, "this is one of the risks of engaging in romantic relationships with classmates."
I wanted to pretend that it was anger swirling into my blood, but it felt more like shame. I had known it would never work with Liam, and I let him in anyway. Now my GPA was going to pay the price.
"This is why they advise that co-workers don't get involved with one another," he said.
"You pushed me to date him," I accused, before I could stop myself. "You practically assigned us to go on a date."
"A number of students participated in that project. I'm guessing that most of them didn't wind up in bed together."
I gasped at his words, unable to pretend they didn't cut through my carefully constructed apathy. It had been a show for Markson, but now it was painfully obvious that I was hurting. Horror flashed across his face as he realized exactly what he'd said.
So much for cool Professor Markson. I couldn't wait to tell Jess what I thought of her beloved instructor. He had crossed the line, and we both knew it.
"I apologize," he said almost immediately. "That was out of line."
"Then you'll consider my request?" I asked, not above a little emotional blackmail to get what I needed.
"My reasoning still stands. I can't reassign you without affecting other students. I suggest you consider dropping the course." His suggestion sounded weak now, lacking the confidence he'd displayed when I first came in. He was as shaken by our interaction as I was.
"I can't," I managed to say over my dry tongue. I needed to get out of here, because I could feel the first waves of nausea rolling through my stomach. First, dry mouth. Then watery mouth. And finally I would spew all over him, which really wouldn't help my case.
"The rest of the coursework will be done in class. I can assure you that I will not allow things to get out of control, and your final will be an independent project. Can you spend a couple of hours a week being civil to your partner?"
It wasn't that I wanted to be Liam's enemy. I didn't want to see him. How many times would I have to relive that humiliating night? I could already see the pity in Liam's eyes when he helped me with class assignments. My mouth began to water.
"Whatever," I said, hoisting my bag over my shoulder and dashing out of his office. I ignored Markson calling after me in favor of making it to the restroom. I barely threw myself at the toilet before the first heaves brought up my small breakfast. I wretched four or five times until my body trembled with the aftershocks of vomiting. Clutching the toilet as the stall swam in my vision, I tried not to think about going back to class with Liam. Instead I focused on other things like how dirty this bathroom probably was. It was saying something that it was actually an improvement over thinking about going back to Markson's class tomorrow.
But when I finally pulled myself together and managed to get myself out into the cool Pacific Northwest air, the salty scent of the ocean calmed me down enough for me to realize that I didn't have to go back, and I wouldn't.
Chapter 21
My bedroom looked like a hurricane had hit it. Scarves and shoes littered the bed as Jess riffled through my closet. Cassie and Jess were both looking for something to wear out to Garrett's. It was our first girls only night in weeks. Both Trevor and Brett has been warned to stay away.
"I told Trevor that he was cut off tonight, and he better not show his fucking face." Only Cassie could make that not only sound threatening but endearing at the same time.
"Brett is studying anyway," Jess assured both of us.
I knew they were trying to be sweet, but the emphasis on their boyfriends just made me feel Liam's absence more acutely. Jess tossed a wispy blue dress at me.
"You look hot in that," she said.
I held it up, frowning at it's spaghetti straps and shor
t hemline. "It's November," I reminded them. "I haven't worn this since the last time I was in California."
Cassie waved off my concern. "These" She held up a pair of brown suede boots.
"Tights," Jess said, handing me a pair.
I stripped out of my yoga pants and started to pull them on, but Cassie grabbed my arm.
"Sexy underwear?" she suggested. Thongs had been part of the required boy-catching uniform since our freshman year.
"I'm not bringing anyone home," I said, continuing to get dressed. Tonight was about being with my best friends, not trying to catch a guy. Just the thought made my insides clench.
"It's not about that," Cassie reminded me. "It's about how you feel."
"I want to feel comfortable," I muttered as I slipped into the boots.
Cassie held her hands up in surrender. I tugged the dress over my head and stood for them to inspect me. Cassie wrapped an earthy scarf round my neck and tied it expertly and then she completed the ensemble with a short white leather jacket, courtesy of Jess.
"You look so hot," Jess said as I checked myself out in the mirror. Between the doctor's visits and trying to catch up with coursework, I hadn't bothered to put myself together in weeks. Jess coaxed my hair into a messy twist that tumbled down my back. My hands were still acting up, so Cassie lined my eyes.
An hour later we were ready to head to Garrett's, but Jess stopped me at the door and handed me a Simenet, one of the many new drugs I'd been prescribed.
She bit her lip, clearly struggling with what to say to me. "Go easy on the drinks tonight, okay?"
"One," I promised her. I wasn't going to ruin girls' night by flushing my meds out of my system, that was a sure way to have an episode.
The night was in full swing at Garrett's by the time we arrived. On the stage someone belted out a twangy melody to the delight of a group of friends cat-calling nearby. I relaxed, immediately comfortable in my second home, which was kinda sad given it was a bar.
"Look a booth," Cassie said, taking my elbow and steering me toward it. A booth on Friday night at Garrett's was a coup. Most of the time they were occupied by regulars that were too busy shooting nasty looks at the crop of new students who discovered the bar each week.
"We should get a drink first," I suggested. It would take a waitress forever to get to us with this crowd.
"We'll get it," Jess said in an oddly cheerful voice. Were they actually going to be so goddamn happy all night? It was like they were on suicide watch or something. Despite the fact that I was totally fine, they insisted on passing worried glances at each other when they thought I wasn't looking.
Cassie grabbed the seat facing the stage before I could sit down and Jess pulled me into the other side.
"What do you want for your very special, one-time-only drink?" Jess asked. "Choose wisely."
I knew if I ordered something too strong, she'd veto it immediately so I opted for a beer. I didn't even like beer, so I wouldn't get in trouble with wanting more.
"I need to use the bathroom," I said when Jess stood to head to the bar.
"You haven't had anything to drink yet!"
"That's the funny thing about the human body," I said slowly, "sometimes you have to pee without imbibing alcohol."
"I'll come with you," Cassie offered.
"We'll lose the booth," I said. "Why are you acting so weird?"
"We're not acting fucking weird," Cassie said.
"This is girls' night," Jess said, draping her arm around my shoulder. "We want to spend time with you."
"Well, you can't actually pee for me, so..." I pushed past her and turned toward the bathroom. It was suddenly clear why they were freaking out. Liam stood with a group of guys. Correction: Liam was with some guys, but he was talking to a girl. A really pretty girl in a really short skirt.
Numbness crawled up my chest, freezing my gaze to the spot. The pulse of the music faded into the background as I tried to tear my eyes away, but it was like a car wreck. I didn't want to see, but I couldn't stop watching. The blonde said something and Liam's head fell back in laughter. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, gesturing to the empty glasses in front of them.
So what? He was going to buy a girl a drink. I had no claim on him. I didn't want him like that anymore. It was simply a symptom of seeing him for the first time in weeks. It was surprise. But surprise couldn't account for the lump swelling into tears in my throat.
"Let's go," Jess said.
"No, I'm fine." I shook her hand off my arm. "But I still have to go to the bathroom."
"Let me come with you," Cassie begged.
"Oh my god, I can go to the bathroom and come back. I'm not going to get lost." I reached for the stack of coasters on the table and held them up. "I can drop these behind me and find my way back to you."
"We just want you to have a good time," Jess said.
"Then get me a beer already!" I flashed them my widest smile and bounded toward the bathroom before they could stop me.
The tears came as I closed the stall door. Much like puking, this was not a new experience for me at Garrett's. It was the first time I cried alone, however. A phone call from Tara plus a drink was the usual catalyst that set me off, and I shared those moments willingly, because I needed to hear that Tara was being a bitch. I didn't want to hear that Liam was an asshole though, because he wasn't. I couldn't escape the truth: Liam was out there talking to another girl because I pushed him away.
Which was the right thing to do.
A few ruined feet of toilet paper later and my face was dry without too much damage to my eye make-up. Taking a deep breath, I headed back into the swarm. My best bet at surviving the pitying glances of my best friends was a shot of tequila. The no liquor and meds rule didn't apply to extreme circumstances like this. Pushing my way in, I called my order to Frank who slid a shot down with the expertise of a man who had seen enough bar room drama to know when a girl needed a drink.
I tossed it back as the opening beats to a Taylor Swift song echoed through Garrett's. Looking up, I froze. Liam was taking the stage. I'd seen plenty of guys making a fool out of themselves on karaoke night, but this was the pièce de résistance. Across the bar, his eyes met mine as he clutched the mic. I knew then that this was a message to me. I knew this song.
Liam was trying to tell me something, and his message wasn't very nice. Although he had a pretty nice singing voice. My core clenched at the thought of his lips and murmured words shared in the dark. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me. I would have been less embarrassed if he'd Facebooked a pic of my boobs.
He was calling attention to me. To us. The one thing that was unforgivable in my book.
"Is Liam singing a Taylor Swift song?" Jess asked as she plopped onto a bar stool beside me.
"Unfortunately." I leaned back against the bar and watched as Liam wagged a finger at me from the stage.
"Is he singing to you?"
"Yep."
"Ouch," Jess said as she took a sip of her Long Island Iced Tea. She paused a moment to listen to the lyrics and screwed her face up. "That is not the most complimentary song.
"Are any Taylor Swift songs complimentary?" I asked, trying not to show that Liam's performance was hurting my feelings.
"You want to go now?" she offered.
"Absolutely not." The tequila was warm in my belly still, and I shot her a wicked look. A second later I was pulling her to the dance floor.
If Liam thought he could get a rise out of me, I could play that game, too. Gripping Jess's hands we started bobbing to the beat of the song. As luck would have it, two hot girls was more than enough to attract a few guys. I dared to look up but Liam was already off the stage. Someone's hands gripped by hips and my heart hammered fast. I pulled his arms around me and shook my ass against him. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself.
I didn't want to stay away from Liam. Not while he was right here with me.
And would it be so wrong to take him home one
more time?
The crowd shifted and Liam stood on the other side of it, watching me. I'd let myself believe it was him dancing with me—that somehow he still wanted me despite everything. Even across the room, sadness mingled with fury in his eyes before he tilted his head as if to say have it your way. I wrenched myself free from the guy dancing behind me and pushed myself through the crowd.
My lungs had stopped working, turning to lead weights that only allowed for quick, desperate pants. I couldn't catch a breath in the crush of people, so I forced myself through them toward the emergency exit. The night air blasted against me and I gulped it down, trying to steady myself. I'd lost control. I couldn't even lie to myself about it anymore. I leaned against the brick facade of Garrett's and counted my breaths. An old physical therapy trick that always worked, even when I was only dealing with an anxiety attack.
I found my phone in my jacket's pocket and texted Jess that I was out back. She was right, I had to get out of here. Fast. Liam didn't want me. He sang that song to send me a message.
We were over. He knew I was trouble. The exact thing I'd been trying to tell him for months. I wasn't about to go back in there. It took a few minutes but the exit door swung open and this time I was ready to run into Jess's arms. Pretending that my heart wasn't broken was never going to heal it. I'd gone too far with Liam. There was no way I was coming back from this alone.
But Liam's solid form stood in the shadows cast by Garrett's floodlights. I didn't think, I just started running. I heard him follow me, and I pushed my body harder, willing myself to go faster, but the heel of my boot caught on a hole in the pavement and I tumbled onto my knees.
"Christ, Jillian," Liam said, reaching me seconds later. He tried to help me up, but I shoved his hands away.
"This is how it's going to be?" he asked me. The blaze in his eyes melted through me as I stood up, ignoring the air stinging my scraped knees. I lounged against a streetlamp, hoping I looked casual despite my humiliating escape attempt.