Wild

by Sophie Jordan

  “Yes, have a seat, Georgia.”

  I still clutched my paper in my hands.

  He came around his desk and sank into the chair opposite mine. He tapped at the paper. “This is good work, Georgia.”

  A flush spread through me. “Thank you.”

  He crossed his legs, gripping his ankle where it rested on his knee, showing off his plaid socks. “You have a strong control of language. It’s a gift. Half the time when I read an undergrad paper, I feel like I’m wading through a jumble of words to get to the point, but you have a better handle of the material than most graduate students.”

  My chest swelled. I wished my mother were here to hear this.

  He continued, “What are you doing this summer?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “And home is . . .”

  “Muskogee, Alabama.”

  “Hmm. Not a bustling metropolis.”

  “No, sir. I’m looking into an internship at a bank—”

  “Filing and making coffee.” He shook his head. “It’s a waste of your talents. You’ll learn nothing. One of the grad students I’d hired to assist me on my research this summer had to back out. I have an opening.” His gaze fastened on me, his dark eyes steady through the lenses of his glasses. “It’s a rare opportunity, Georgia. The other two students assisting me are grad students and I still need a third—”

  “Yes,” I blurted. He hadn’t even mentioned pay or the research topic, but I didn’t care. This sounded a lot better than going home and working at the bank. And the best thing of all? I could stay here. Mom wouldn’t love the idea, but she would have to acknowledge it as a great opportunity. It was an academic endeavor that actually paid.

  “Excellent. Speak with Doris, the department secretary, and she will gather your information. We’ll be in touch regarding our first meeting.” Dr. Chase stood.

  I rose, too, grabbing the strap of my messenger bag. I shook his hand, maybe a little too vigorously in my eagerness. “Thank you.”

  He smiled, already looking distracted as he dropped my hand. “See you soon.”

  As soon as I left his office, I rummaged for my phone and scanned my contacts until I found the person I needed to call. He picked up after the second ring.

  “Reece? Hey, it’s Georgia. Did you really mean it when you said I could use your old apartment this summer?”

  MOM WASN’T THRILLED.

  I’d known that she wouldn’t be, but she actually required more convincing than I expected.

  “Maybe I should call this Dr. Chase,” she suggested, “And find out more about the particulars of—”

  “Mom, no. What for?” With a deep breath, I softened my voice, “I’m twenty years old and in college. I don’t think he’s accustomed to getting phone calls from parents. This is legit, I promise. I’ll be working with grad students. I’m really lucky to get this chance.”

  She sighed, and I knew she was relenting.

  “I’m sure I can expect a fabulous recommendation from him for future jobs. And this experience will look great on my resume,” I added, knowing how Mom thought. “Your friend at the bank will be very impressed.”

  “Fine.”

  A huge smile curved my lips and I danced in place.

  “What about housing?” she continued. “Do you even have a place—”

  “A friend of mine is moving out of his apartment and is letting me stay there over the summer.”

  “Is it a nice place? In a good part of town?”

  “Mom. It’s five minutes from campus. It’s great.” Not a lie. Mulvaney’s is right around the corner from campus. I just omitted the part about it being located on top of a bar.

  “All right. Georgia. I can see you want this. We were just looking forward to having you home for the summer. We miss you.” At that, guilt stabbed at me. My mother, my family . . . they just loved me. Mom especially. She cared about me. I shouldn’t resent her for it. My mom wasn’t like Pepper’s—a drug addict who’d abandoned her only child. Or Emerson’s mother who was, depending on the day, either cruel or indifferent to her daughter. My mom cared too much. That was her crime.

  “Find out the timeline. Maybe you can schedule a trip home before school starts in the fall.”

  I nodded, happiness bubbling up inside me. “I will. I’ll let you know.”

  I stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, in such a great mood that I even tolerated her sharing all the latest Harris news with me. Apparently Mom had breakfast with his mother at the club last weekend. I didn’t even interrupt when she voiced—again—the inevitability of our getting back together.

  Ending the call, I propped my hands on my hips and surveyed my dorm. Suddenly packing wasn’t such a dismal prospect.

  THE LAST WEEK AND a half of classes flew by. My final paper was turned in. My last exam taken. All my boxes were packed—and not just mine, but my roommates’, too. We were all moving out. Moving out and moving on.

  I sat on Pepper’s bed next to Em, watching as Reece lifted the final box and marched out into the hall with it.

  Pepper sank down on the mattress beside us. The mattress was stripped of sheets and made a faint crackling sound with the addition of her weight. The room was completely bare. Naked brick walls stared down at us.

  “This is it,” Pepper declared with a forced smile.

  My eyes ached a little, burning with the threat of tears, as I stared at her. I reached out to caress the loosely braided auburn hair that hung over her shoulder.

  “It’s not like this is good-bye,” Emerson declared after a long moment of silence.

  “Yeah, I know. We’ll get together every week,” I said, my voice a little strangled even to my ears. “We’ll always have Teen Wolf night.”

  “That’s right,” Pepper agreed, pointing at both of us in mock threat. “We watch it together. Reruns, fine, but new episodes are off-limits.”

  But it won’t be the same.

  The three of us would never share our lives together in the same way again. Pepper would be living full-time with Reece. Even in the fall when Emerson and I moved back into the dorm together with Suzanne (she had agreed to move in with us), it would never be like before. Em would hardly ever be there. She’d be with Shaw. And it would only be a matter of time before Suzanne had a boyfriend, too.

  We were moving on. Growing up. It was right. Good. And I was happy for all of us. So why did this suck so much?

  Pepper hugged each of us, her arms squeezing tight. “You sure you don’t need help moving your stuff to Mulvaney’s?”

  “No, I got it. Reece already helped me get everything in the car.” There was nothing left for me next door. Just an empty room like this one. “I can take it from here. I’ll head over this afternoon.”

  She nodded and we all hugged again like it was the last time we would ever see one another. “At least shoot me a text when you’re on your way over and I’ll meet you at Mulvaney’s to officially introduce you to the staff.”

  “You don’t have to do that. You’ll be busy settling into your new—”

  “No, I want to. Reece has to go into work later at the new location anyway, so I’m happy to do it.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  Pepper left then and Em and I turned to face each other. She bumped her knuckles with mine with exaggerated slowness. “So proud of you, friend.”

  I blinked. “Me? Why?”

  “I know your parents were pressuring you to go home for the summer, and I know you didn’t want to. Good for you standing up for yourself.”

  “Working with Dr. Chase is a great opportunity.”

  She shrugged. “Spin it however you like. You’re here and free for the summer.” She grinned then. “Now don’t get into too much trouble at Mulvaney’s.” Her pretty grin then turned into a giggle. As if the idea of my gettin
g into trouble was so outrageous she had to laugh.

  I laughed as if that was ridiculous. “Oh, you know me. Troublemaker extraordinaire.”

  I had a flash of myself at the kink club with Annie. I had been on the verge of getting into trouble that night. And that had been the goal. To shake off my self-imposed constraints and not be so boring for once. To be wild. If Em knew that, she might not laugh at the suggestion. She might actually be worried I would do something reckless and get into trouble living above Mulvaney’s.

  She considered me for a moment, her lovely blue eyes sharp with speculation. “On second thought, a little bit of trouble might be good for you.” She held up her thumb and index finger, pinching a small amount of air. “Just a little bit. Nothing to land you in jail or anything.”

  I seriously laughed at that. I’d never so much as gotten a speeding ticket. “Oh, really? Is jail when you’ve gone too far then? Is that when things have officially gotten out of hand?”

  “Yeah. Jail is a no-no. But you’ve been the good girl long enough. Maybe you need a wild summer.”

  It burned on my tongue to tell her about the kink club right then, but I held back. First of all, she didn’t approve of Annie, and once I weathered her disapproval for hanging out with the girl who abandoned her at a biker bar, she would demand all the details. Considering most of those details involved Logan Mulvaney and a kiss that left me all hot and bothered, I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. The very idea made me wince. “I’ll be working . . . doing research, remember?”

  “Not every moment of the day. You’ll have plenty of time for play.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured her.

  “Who wants to be fine all the time?” She snorted, standing and grabbing her bag. “Be crazy. Have a fling. Get that asshat Harris out of your system for good. Nothing like a good romp between the sheets to make you forget the prick and move on. And who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the one.”

  I sighed, not quite knowing what to do with this new Emerson. She had turned into the eternal optimist who believed in love and happily ever after.

  But some of what she was saying had a kernel of truth. I’d just had a taste of what she was describing with Logan, and Harris’s memory was already dimmer. When I did think of Harris these days, it was with more clarity. The relationship hadn’t been working for a long time, but habit had kept me chained to him. And the fact that my parents loved the idea of us together.

  Could a romp between the sheets with Logan exorcise my ex totally? Tempting. Too bad it couldn’t happen. Any other guy, maybe. But not Logan. It would be difficult to have a fling with Reece’s younger brother and keep it uncomplicated.

  She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. “You staying here for the summer is going to be good for you.”

  “Yeah?” I asked as she moved to the door.

  “Yeah. Look. You’ve played the perfect girlfriend, the perfect daughter forever. Maybe you need to spend the summer and just find the perfect you.” She smiled at me to soften her words—as though she knew they stung. And they did.

  I’d always viewed myself as strong, smart, and independent, but she’d just called me out. I was a fake—not nearly as independent as I had pretended to be. I could think of no reply.

  “I’ll text you,” she said, her smile soft and encouraging.

  I nodded, her words tumbling through me with a truth that I didn’t want to acknowledge. And yet she’d thrown them out there, forcing me to see them. “Bye.”

  The door clicked shut after her. Alone in our empty suite, I fell back on the bare mattress and stared at the ceiling, confronting the idea of me being someone else this summer. A girl who didn’t have to worry about what her parents thought. A girl without a hovering boyfriend.

  I could be anyone I wanted.

  Chapter 7

  I’D BEEN TO REECE’S apartment above Mulvaney’s once before. Pepper had cooked dinner and we’d played cards afterward to the quiet rumble of the bar below us.

  The apartment felt like a barren shell compared to that night. They had left the bed, futon, kitchen table, and major appliances. Pepper mentioned they would be buying new stuff for their new place. Even with the basic furniture, all the little flourishes that had made it feel like a home were gone. The photographs and wall art. Reece’s bike in the corner. The books crammed into the bookcase. It felt like an echo of what it had been before.

  The bar was a low murmur under my feet as I padded barefoot around the space, unpacking and hanging clothes, stopping occasionally to eat some of the fried pickles that the cook had forced on me as I passed through the kitchen to take the stairs up to the apartment. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to pack on the pounds living above Mulvaney’s kitchen—home of the famous Tijuana Fries, Death Burger, and Fried Pickle Chips with Chipotle Ranch Sauce.

  Pepper had made sure I met all the staff earlier when I arrived this afternoon. Those who were on the clock anyway. Mike was the manager. Karla manned the food counter most nights, and the cook, a former cook in the navy, was—unsurprisingly—just Cook.

  I’d seen Mike and Karla plenty of times when I hung out at Mulvaney’s—mostly back in the days when Pepper was prowling Mulvaney’s after first meeting Reece. Since Harris and I broke up, I hadn’t been here as often, figuring that any guys I met here wouldn’t be the kind I was interested in. Good, studious types that I could bring home to my parents didn’t hang out at bars. The next guy I brought home would have to be pretty spectacular, at least in my parents’ eyes, to replace Harris. Especially since Mom was still hung up on the idea of Harris and me.

  It was after one in the morning when I finally finished arranging the apartment to my liking. I just couldn’t sleep until everything was put away and organized. Emerson called me anal. Granted she was a mess and wouldn’t know what to do with a hanger, but I had been raised to be tidy and organized. It was simply habit now. My mother was exacting. Clothes had to be color coordinated in the closet. Books in alphabetical order in my bookcase. Disorder and chaos was not tolerated. Again, I think it reminded her too much of my mess of a birth father.

  Feeling grimy after putting everything away, I pulled my long hair up into a knot and took a shower, enjoying the fact that this shower was twice as big as the showers in the dorm. I let the warm spray of water beat down on my body and loosen my muscles. Once I was out of the shower, I slipped on panties and a soft tank top.

  Still feeling a little restless, I curled up on the futon, pulling my fuzzy throw blanket over me, and watched some television.

  After the second rerun of The Big Bang Theory, I turned off the TV and tossed out the remaining pickle chips. As I passed the couch, I noticed that I hadn’t put away everything. My guitar, still in its case, sat propped between the futon and the side table. I hesitated, staring at it with a funny tightness in my chest.

  When I’d pulled it out of my dorm closet, I had almost forgotten its existence. I hadn’t left it at home because I was worried Mom would get rid of it. She had tried to cart it off to Goodwill a few times over the years, but I had stood my ground and insisted on keeping it. For some reason, she had always capitulated. Mostly, I think, because she never saw me pull it out and play it anymore. That would have concerned her and forced her hand. So I ignored it for many years. Forgotten like an old pair of shoes.

  Sinking on the couch, I pulled it out of the case and brought the comforting weight of it across my lap, my fingers caressing the colorful blue-and-green-patterned strap before moving to the strings. I plucked one. The out-of-tune twang filled my ears, and my fingers instinctively went to the knobs, strumming strings and rotating the knobs until the sound was just right.

  When I had it perfect, I played a few chords of “Landslide.” I smiled, losing myself in that part of me that I had buried for dead long ago. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t stop myself. For a moment, I let myself go. Surrendered to t
hat part of me . . . the part of myself that reminded my mother so much of my father. The part that terrified her.

  At the sudden thought of her . . . and him, I slapped a palm over the strings, effectively killing the music my fingers had created so effortlessly from them.

  My heart ached, but I forced the guitar from my lap. Forced it from my hands like another moment in my clasp might somehow poison me. I set it down beside the futon, against its case, not even taking the time to put it inside. Later. I would touch it later. Right now I just needed distance.

  I turned off all the lights except for the small light above the stove. At the bed, I pulled back the covers. I had one knee on the mattress and was arranging my multitude of pillows to my liking when I heard footsteps, growing in volume.

  I froze, eyeing the opening that led to the stairs, wondering who was coming up here this time of night. Surely not Pepper or Reece. The bar had quieted in the last hour and I assumed it was closing up for the night if not already fully closed. The bottom door that led to the stairs had a lock, which I had utilized, but clearly that hadn’t stopped this person.

  I managed to push up off the bed, but couldn’t move otherwise. I stood frozen—prey caught in the crosshairs as Logan ascended the steps to the top floor of the loft.

  I recognized him even in the dim light. The long, lean lines of him. The broad shoulders. The weak light limned his hair like sunlight and cast one side of his face in a golden glow. My heart squeezed tightly as I drank up the sight of him, eyes trailing over the square-cut jaw, the shadowed slant of his lips.

  I reached for my bedside lamp, fumbling to turn it on.

  He beat me to it, flipping the switch on the wall where he stood a split second before I turned on the lamp. Light from both sources flooded the room.

  It was inescapable. The blast of light. Him. The full impact of his face. The deeply set eyes with criminally long lashes. The strong angles that my fingers itched to trace. And the dark blue eyes drilling into me.

  “Fuuck,” he breathed, dragging a hand over his close-cropped hair as his gaze swept over me.