Redemption (Cambria University #2)

by Sadie T. Williams

  “I guess. No, actually, not really.” He changes his mind mid-sentence like he is battling with his thoughts. “I just need to tell you something and it's not easy for me.”

  “Bro, you’ve been like my best friend forever. Whatever it is, I can help, or try to at least. We can figure it out. Did you knock someone up?” Please say no, please say no. Bates would be a terrible father.

  He takes a deep breath. “I love you, Maze,” he states flatly, his voice void of any emotion like he’s trying to control himself.

  Holy fucking shit. I curse internally. I don’t swear, but this is… this is insane. I was not prepared for this bomb he just dropped.

  “Uh, I…” I’m at a loss. Completely speechless. This is not where I expected this conversation to go. Bates was my first and only sexual partner and while I was left pining after him, he was off screwing anything with a vagina. When my life fell apart and I needed someone to make me feel wanted, worthy and safe, he was my trusted best friend, and he made me feel that way. Until he didn’t. Bates doesn’t do relationships, but he chooses right now to change his mind? Perfect timing. Why is he doing this now?

  “I don’t expect you to say it back. I just needed to say it once before you left. I’ve loved you since we first met. You’re perfect. Smart, beautiful, funny, so caring and genuine. Everything about you is what I want. I may die when you leave,” he tells me, still avoiding eye contact.

  “Bates.” I pause. “I had no idea. You were always sleeping with other girls and…” I don’t know what to say. I just don’t feel it like I used to, and I’m sure this wasn’t easy for him to admit. I don’t want to ruin us, because if we weren’t friends, I would be crushed.

  “I did that to take my mind off of you,” he says without a hint of denial, but what sounds like a lot of remorse. “I know what I did after we slept together was shitty. I know I was a complete asshole to fuck someone else after we made love. You were in a vulnerable place and I didn’t know what to do with my feelings after that night. I’d wanted you for so long and it took your life falling apart for you to even acknowledge me in that way. After, I saw your face no matter who I was with. Your eyes, your mouth, your body. Fuck, Maisy, I want you. I want you so bad.”

  Bates just referred to our session as making love and sleeping together. I’d only ever heard him talk about fucking girls before. What is happening? My head can’t process his words right now.

  “I freaked out,” he continues with a shrug. “There were emotions attached to what we did. Emotions that as a fifteen-year-old, I couldn’t process. I’ve never had feelings like that before, and I’ve never had them since. I didn’t realize what they were, and once I did, I had already fucked it up. Seeing you every single day and you acting like nothing happened. I was fucking wrecked.”

  “I did that because it meant nothing to you! You screwed Angelica two days after you took my virginity, Bates. That hurt more than you’ll know. What was I supposed to do? Ignoring what happened was the only way to protect my already-broken heart,” I shout louder than I intend as the anger spews at his admission. He can’t be blaming me. I’m not the one who’s been sleeping with anything that moves for the last three years.

  He runs his hands through his hair again. “I don’t know, Maze. I fucked up. I know that. And now you’re leaving and I’m going to miss the hell out of you. A part of me is going to die. I just fucking love you. I just needed to say it before you left, cuz now I don’t know what’s going to happen when you’re so far away.”

  He’s so dramatic. It’s been years and he hasn’t said a word. He picks tonight, the night before I’m leaving? The night before I move and get to reinvent myself all the way across the country? I may scream.

  “I do love you,” I admit and his eyes finally shoot up to mine. The depth of the ocean swirling in those eyes. “Just not in the way you want me to. I can’t go back there, Bates.”

  He cups my face in his hands, his long fingers stretching the length of my jawline. He leans in. “I just need one more kiss,” he whispers and crashes his lips into mine. I don’t pull away. He kisses me hard and deep. Desperate. His lips are salty and rough from the water and the sun. We haven’t kissed since that night three years ago when he took my virginity. His tongue invades my mouth and there’s a need with his kiss this time. I kiss him back because deep down I think I’ve always wanted a redo too. Besides, I’m leaving tomorrow, and this won’t matter when I’m 3,000 miles away.

  Chapter 5: Maisy

  My taxi drives through the wrought-iron gates and big stone arch to enter Cambria University on a warm Saturday afternoon. Cambria is beautiful, so different from anything on the West Coast. Large trees, winding sidewalks with benches scattered along the way, and ivy-covered stone buildings. The sky is sunny but cloud-covered compared to the bright and vibrant California skies. I feel comfortable here almost immediately. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I want to love it here.

  It’s hectic and crowded on move-in day. Students lugging suitcases and boxes to and from various buildings are everywhere. Parents are following them, some crying, others hugging and kissing on their babies going away to school, some for the first time. It’s times like this I feel the most alone. No one is here to help carry my things or worry about the size of my room or care if my roommate could be a psychopath or not. It’s just me and my stuff. My whole life packed up in two large suitcases, my sewing machine in its case, and two boxes. I don’t have a lot of worldly possessions, but I made sure I brought my sewing machine. That took me two years to save enough money to buy.

  Bates paid for an airline ticket for me so I didn’t have to ride in a bus across the country. He didn’t want me to leave – in fact, after our encounter, he begged me to stay and attend UCLA, but I couldn’t. Not for him. I need this for myself. He knew that last night was our goodbye.

  I shouldn’t have slept with him again, I know that, but we needed each other last night in a way I can’t quite explain. Bates didn’t fuck me like he does his usual “dates.” Last night, he wasn’t in a hurry. He laid me down on the beach and took his time exploring every inch of my body. His movements were slow and deliberate. He wanted me to feel him, all of him, and he took all of me because this really was our last time. There was sadness to his movements. After he finished, he stayed inside of me for a few minutes and laid on my chest. He was hesitant to pull out and officially put an end to whatever we had been all these years.

  He hasn’t left my mind since I left him on the beach early this morning. He didn’t stop over at Mabel’s with everyone else this morning before I left for the airport. I knew he wouldn’t. That isn’t Bates’ style. My girls and Brody drove me to LAX. We had a good cry before I had to check in. Those people are my only real family.

  The cab driver hauls my stuff out of the trunk and places it all on the curb. I grab my two suitcases and begin to lug them to my new dorm leaving my boxes and sewing machine on the curb. I’ll have to come back for those. I start my walk to Stafford House, where I will live for the next nine months, and my stomach is fluttering with excitement.

  A bunch of guys in CU baseball hats are sitting at a table in front of a building that is marked as Montgomery House. That must be the freshman girls’ dorm. The sign at their table is offering free mammograms, and they’re whistling and hollering at the young, innocent girls as they carry their stuff into their new living quarters while their parents glare. Maybe they’re geniuses because some girls are actually filling out the sign-up sheet.

  I walk by and one guy shouts at me, “Hey, sweet tits! Let me check you for lumps!”

  “Only if you turn your head and cough first,” I reply and keep walking. I’m usually the nice one, but I don’t mind throwing shade back when it’s thrown at me first.

  His boys start hooting at him.

  “Ahh! She got you, bro!”

  “She nailed you, Gomez!”

  “Hey, baby, you can hang with us anytime. Come to the Pi Kappa kick-off pa
rty!” one of them shouts as I continue to walk away.

  “I hate to see you leave, but I love to watch you walk away!” another chimes in.

  Yeah, a party with these guys sounds super fun. I wave and continue walking, turning my head to check that my boxes and sewing machine are still on the curb. Maybe I should have taken my sewing machine first. I can replace my clothes if they get stolen, but I can’t replace my sewing machine. It’s a lavender, computerized Singer Quantum Stylist, and worth about $900. As I pause, thinking about my choice of cargo, one of the baseball players runs over.

  “Hey, you need a hand?” he asks, lifts his cap and tucks his hair back underneath it.

  “If you’re going to imply that I need your hand for something inappropriate, you can leave now,” I reply tersely.

  “Whoa, no, I was seriously asking.” He laughs holding both hands up in defense while muttering the word “inappropriate” under his breath. “My boys can be dicks. But I’m really offering to help,” he says and crosses his heart with his index finger and points to the sky. “Those are yours, yeah?” He motions to the curb with his head.

  “Yes, and I’m sorry. It’s been a long day already.” I feel embarrassed that I was so rude.

  “Logan, get over here!” he shouts to a tall, handsome guy who stands up and walks toward us. “I’m Finn. That’s Logan. We can move your boxes. No pun intended.” He smiles. He has kind eyes and I could use a friend on this side of the country.

  “I would really appreciate that.” I smile back. They jog over and grab my stuff.

  “Where to?” Finn asks when he gets back to where I’m standing on the sidewalk.

  “Stafford House,” I reply. “I think it’s over there.” I nod toward a cluster of old buildings.

  “So what’s your name, sassy pants?” Logan asks in a sweet southern drawl as we walk.

  “Maisy.”

  “You’re new and you’re not living in a freshman dorm,” he says while his eyes scan over my body. He’s right on both accounts, but I’m not sure how to read the statement. My sun-kissed bronze skin, handmade clothes and lack of makeup really make me stand out for sure.

  “Was that a question?” I laugh, trying to deflect. My past is the past and I’m starting anew.

  “Sort of,” he shrugs.

  “You’re right. I’m from California and I transferred here from UCLA.” It's not a total lie. I just don’t want to explain it all right now and sure has heck don’t want them to know what I’m running from.

  “A California beauty with a sewing machine?” Finn raises an eyebrow quizzically. That was actually a question.

  “Yeah, I like making my own clothes. It’s a hobby.” And a necessity, but again, he doesn’t need to know that. “I probably won’t fit in well around here, huh?” I shrug, feeling a bit dejected thinking about my wardrobe as a beautiful girl strolls past me in a skimpy sundress and platform wedges. Though it’s not Ivy League, Cambria University is a very expensive private school.

  “You will definitely stand out,” Logan says, completely ignoring the posh princess who strolled past as he flashes me a brilliant white smile, checking me out like Finn did previously.

  “So I was serious about that party,” Finn offers again. “You should come hang with us. We tailgate before football games and then hit the Pi Kappa frat party. We can introduce you to some people since you’re new here. We’re all seniors.”

  “We’ll see.” I smile. That could be a good thing, although partying is not my thing. Maybe it could be like what I had back home with my friends. I could go and not drink, meet some new people. I need some friends, or I’ll end up like Mabel.

  We walk up to Stafford House, which is a three-story stone building where most junior students live. It’s old and covered in ivy like the rest of campus, but the English aesthetics are lovely. So much like the books I love, and so different from modern West Coast architecture. I thank God that I’m on the first floor, because I don’t want to haul all my stuff upstairs. I’ll be sharing a suite with someone called Amelia Pettibone. There are two bedrooms with a shared bathroom, small living room and kitchen. When I arrive, the door is propped open and a girl, who I assume is Amelia, is putting groceries away in the kitchen.

  “Hey,” I say as I knock, even though the door is open.

  “Hey!” she spins and shouts. She eyes Finn and Logan behind me and freezes in place while her jaw drops to the floor. They’re attractive, but that reaction seems over the top.

  “Thank you, boys,” I say as I turn around to face them. “I appreciate the help. And I’m really sorry for being rude.”

  “We deserved it,” Logan laughs as they set down my sewing machine and two boxes.

  “We’ll be seeing you around,” Finn winks and turns to leave. “Don’t forget about the tailgate and the party.”

  “I won’t. Thanks again,” I smile as the boys walk out.

  I turn my attention back to my new roommate. “I’m guessing you’re Amelia. I’m Maisy,” I say as I roll my luggage further into the living room.

  “Yup, I’m Amelia, but you can call Millie,” she says as she comes in for a hug. She’s a big girl, much taller than I am, with a bit of a southern accent. Her hair is somewhere between blond and brown in a long French braid, and pale blue eyes. She’s thick in the middle and was kind of squishy when she hugged me. She reminds me of Jo, and a pang of sadness hits me. I didn’t realize how much I would miss Chet and Jo.

  “I was wondering how you pronounced it when I read it on the housing info. I was going with ‘May-cee,’ but you pronounce it like ‘May-zee,’” she corrects herself.

  “Exactly, like Daisy Head Mayzie, the Dr. Seuss character. Just spelled different.” I smile.

  “Why was Johnny Logan carrying your stuff?” she asks bluntly.

  “Well it was too much for me to handle and they were outside offering free mammograms. I declined the mammogram, but they offered to carry the stuff I couldn’t.” I laugh nervously. I’m not sure why she cares unless she’s crushing on him. Logan didn’t seem to know her, so I know they aren’t a thing.

  “So what are you? You look very exotic.” She has no filter, and it makes me giggle a little. In California there are people of every shade and no one bats an eye. I think I’m going to be getting this question a lot around here.

  “My mom was Colombian and my dad is white,” I reply.

  “Oh, well honey, you’re gorgeous. Good luck around here. Cambria is known for hot athletes who prey on fresh meat.”

  “Oh yeah, like Logan and Finn. Their friends seem—” I pause. “Fun. They told me to come to some frat party. Hard pass on that one.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me! You got invited by the baseball team to the Pi Kappa party? Unreal.”

  “I guess so. That’s what they said, I think. Is that a big deal?” I ask. That literally means nothing to me.

  “Pi Kappa is the biggest frat here. They run this school because they’re the frat for athletes. The hottest, most eligible guys are at the house every weekend. Football, baseball, you name it. Besides, I’ve heard that only sorority chicks are ever invited. We have to go. I’ll volunteer to be your chaperone extraordinaire.”

  “Uh, no thanks,” I reply. “I’m not a big partier and I have a lot to do. Maybe another weekend?” While I want to make friends, and I don’t want to disappoint Millie, I think I need some time to process this move.

  “Oh, okay. Another time then,” she says and looks completely surprised and a bit saddened that I wouldn’t jump at the chance to hang out with those crude boys again. Dang, I’m going to have to get her to a party at some point. I don’t like disappointing people.

  I walk further into our room and analyze my new digs. Tuition here is around $80,000 a year, and these dorms don’t reflect that. It’s clean, but outdated. It’s still nicer than Mabel’s house though, and I get my own room with a real bed. There are tan walls throughout with beige carpet that has little brown diamonds scattered
in diagonal lines. Two brown leather couches in the living room face a decent-sized flat screen mounted on the wall, while the kitchen, where Millie is still unpacking her groceries, is open to the living room and has a small island with four stools tucked neatly underneath it. The floor is linoleum made to look like marble tile in an off-white shade with swirls of brown in it. A sliding glass door leads out to a little patio with a gas grill and a small, white wire table and four chairs. That’s appealing, because I love sitting outside and reading. I usually read by the ocean, so this will be an adjustment, but I’m going to take it in stride.

  “So where are you from, Maisy? Are you a junior too?” she asks as she continues unpacking groceries.

  “I’m from California. I’m a junior, I guess. How about you?”

  “I’m from Medford, Virginia. Small-town gal over here.” She grins. “You guess? You don’t know what grade you’re in?” She giggles and her belly bounces a little. She’s blunt, but a comforting presence actually. She pops an entire Oreo into her mouth as she waits for me to explain.

  “Well, I’m eighteen and technically a freshman, but I studied at UCLA so I have enough credits that transferred to make me a junior on paper. If that makes sense.”

  “My new roomie is a genius! That’s amazing.” She seems genuinely excited about it. “So, California. Ever met a celebrity? I read all those gossip magazines. They’re my weakness. I love the ‘stars are just like us’ section. They like to eat lunch at cute cafes around L.A., and a lot of sushi it seems.”

  This question makes me giggle. Sure, celebrities are just normal people and do normal people things where we live. Plus, working for Chet allowed me the opportunity to meet several – granted they were all battling major legal issues at the time.

  “Yeah, I’ve met a few.” I smile. “I saw Miley Cyrus surfing one day. I lived pretty close to L.A.”

  “That is so cool!” she squeals. “Your room is the one on the left. Hope you don’t mind. They’re exactly the same, so I just picked one. I got some food and you’re welcome to it. I figured we can share whatever we buy and replace it when we eat it. Seems easier than labeling all of our goodies.” Millie rattles all that off without taking a breath.