by Vanessa Page
“If you’d been flirting with him, you wouldn’t have come into the kitchen looking like you were being abducted, and you certainly wouldn’t have pretended I was your boyfriend to get away from him.”
“True.” I turn and pace away from Jace, then back, trying to dispel more of the stress lingering in my muscles from the confrontation a few moments ago. He stays still, motionless through my pacing, and eventually I start to feel less tense, the fight-or-flight feeling lessening with every step I take Finally, I feel calm enough to sit. I take a seat next to Jace, but I don’t face him. I might be calmer, but I’m still fuming, still absorbing the knowledge that things could have gone so much differently if he hadn’t been there.
He leans back on his hands and stares out at the night, like he as nowhere else he’d rather be. Honestly, I barely know the guy, but I can’t think of anywhere I might feel safer right now. I lean against the railing next to me and close my eyes, breathe in deep.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Ah, you do know how to say it.” He chuckles, and just like that, I’m back to being annoyed with him.
CHAPTER THREE
Jace
I knew Krystal was pure drama from the moment I saw her shouting at the top of her lungs in front of my house, but tonight just confirmed my earlier assumption. Drama is attracted to this girl like a magnet.
Sure, that guy inside was a creep, and she didn’t deserve the way he treated her. And of course I defended her—because it was the right thing to do—but that doesn’t change the fact that twice in one week, I’ve had run-ins with this girl that left me amped up and stressed out. I’m just over a year and a half from graduating. My goal going into this school year was to keep my head down, make good grades, and stay away from women, especially card-carrying members of the crazy club who are on a first-name basis with drama, a.k.a. Krystal.
“Are you here with someone?” I ask, hoping I can escort her to wherever her friends are and then get the hell out of here. I never should have come to this party in the first place. But if you didn’t come, that guy could have done worse to her than he actually did, I remind myself.
She shoots me a mocking look. “You mean, like a boyfriend?”
“I’m pretty sure we already established that you don’t have one of those. I meant like friends or something. Are you alone or part of a group?”
She shuffles her feet and looks away sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m here with friends.”
“Do you want me to take you to them, or walk you back to your dorm or something?” I mentally cross my fingers, hoping she’ll opt for meeting up with her friends.
“Honestly?” She says hesitantly, then takes a deep breath and dives in. “I’d love to go home. I didn’t even want to come here tonight. My friends made me. They were tired of me moping around and refusing to get out of bed.”
“Because of your breakup?” I shouldn’t have asked, but I did and I can’t take it back now.
She side-eyes me with a weird expression I can’t quite interpret. “Uh… sure.”
Suddenly itching to be away from this party, I stand and hold my arm out to her in an old-timey gentlemanly gesture that I don’t expect her to accept. “Alright then, let’s get you home. Do you need to let your friends know you’re leaving?”
“I’ll just text them. She pulls her phone out of her back pocket and slips her arm through mine. She’s so much shorter than me, she has to hang her hand on my arm instead of looping it around, but this isn’t an uncomfortable way to walk. She’s so close, the floral scent of her shampoo floats up from her dark curls to tickle my nose.
Our walk toward the dorms is quiet. Krystal stares down at the phone in her hands, presumably texting her friends. I respectfully avoid looking at her screen, choosing instead to look around at the scenery, at the sky, at the night. We pass a handful of students during our trek, none of whom I know. With the quiet ambiance and her arm tucked into mine, it would be easy to imagine this as the end of some romantic date. Me walking her home after a night out together.
But I don’t date anymore, not after Amanda. And even if I did, I would choose someone so much more low key than Krystal. She’s beautiful, no doubt, with buttery olive skin and dark chestnut curls. Her features are soft, delicate, and her eyes are the palest of grays. I’m definitely attracted to her, but I can’t escape the feeling that being with her would be akin to parasailing on a windy day. Exhilarating, but fraught with instability and risk.
Eventually, she slips her phone back into her pocket, and clears her throat. “Thank you. For walking me home.”
“Sure.”
And we walk on in a comfortable silence. I hadn’t pegged her for the comfortable silence type.
When we reach her building, she pulls her arm from mine and turns to face me, still standing close enough to leave me bathed in the soft scent of her. “Do I seem familiar to you at all?”
Well, that was random. “You mean other than from the other day?”
She nods.
“Nope.”
“You’ve never like… seen me around or… you know…” She looks away as if unable to meet my gaze for whatever she’s about to say. “… any pictures of me?”
“Are you trying to say you’re like famous or something?” I’m suddenly wondering if I need to brush up on my pop culture.
“Not famous,” she answers, then smiles widely. A genuine smile that almost takes my breath away. I take a couple of steps backward, away from her and shove my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans, more than a little disturbed by my own response to just that smile. And by how much I want to make her smile again.
“So…” She starts, then trails off.
“So?”
“I, uh, don’t usually do this, but… could I have your number? Maybe call you sometime? To Hangout or whatever?”
She was asking me out? I was not expecting that. And for the briefest of moments, I consider saying yes. Something about her calls to me, makes me want to be near her. But for so many reasons, I say instead, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
Her face falls into a mask of disappointment, and I feel like a total ass. I shot her down, and I wasn’t exactly nice about it.
“It’s just that I don’t—I’m not really dating. Right now. Currently.” I stumble over my words trying to make her understand that my reason for saying no isn’t about her. Well, not entirely. She doesn’t need to know that I think she’s too high-drama and that a relationship between us would never work. Better to give her a half truth and let her believe it’s all me.
“Oh.” Her expression is skeptical; she’s not buying my answer.
“I’m kind of fresh out of a relationship.” Almost truth. “And it ended…” I swallow hard. I haven’t talked about Amanda with anyone in so long. I clear my throat and try again. “It didn’t end well.”
Hopefully, she’ll accept that and let it go.
She searches my expression, her gaze scanning my face carefully before she responds. “I’ve been there,” she says in a commiserating tone.
I doubt it. I attempt a smile and take another couple of steps away, back in the direction we just came from. “Have a good night, Krystal.”
“You, too, Jace.” She watches me until I turn around, maybe even after. I don’t know because I don’t look back at her. No matter how much I want to.
~
“Hey, man, where’d you go last night?” My friend, Jameson, asks from my bedroom doorway. He has a habit of not knocking, but that’s what happens when you’ve known someone for as long as we’ve known each other. We’ve been friends since the third grade, and in all those years, I don’t think he’s ever knocked on my door, here in the frat house, or at my parents’ house, even once. Not that I care.
“Walked Krystal home.” I look up from the homework spread across my desk.
“The girl from the kitchen?”
I nod. “The very same.”
Jameson strolls slowly
into the room and sits carefully on the edge of my bed, stretches his long legs in front of him. Barely a moment later, he plants his feet flat on the floor and leans forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, crosses his arms. He wants to ask me something. After all these years of friendship, we can read each other easily, and right now, there’s something Jameson wants to say but doesn’t know how I’m going to react to.
“Spit it out, man.”
Jameson sighs and raises an apologetic gaze to meet mine. “I need a favor.”
I raise my eyebrows and wave my hand to indicate he should continue.
“So, you know how Jules has been hounding me to find a girlfriend ever since she started dating Cameron?”
Jules, Jameson’s twin sister, has become almost obsessed with helping her brother “find true love” ever since making it official with Cameron Lake, reformed playboy and captain of the soccer team. She seems convinced that if Cameron can successfully make the switch from promiscuity to monogamy that any man can and should. Starting with her brother. Luckily, I’m not on her radar. Yet.
“Uh huh…”
“Well, she set me up with a girl, and I think I might actually kind of like this one.” Jameson sounds almost hopeful. In a way I’ve never heard from him before. He’s not usually the type of guy to go all soft for a girl he’s just met, but it has been a while since he’s dated. Maybe he’s lonely.
‘That’s good,” I say, but his expression turns concerned. “Right?”
He nods emphatically. “No, yeah, it’s definitely good. But…” He trails off, worrying his fingers nervously in front of him.
“Jameson…” I push.
He exhales heavily, then launches into a flurry of words. “I really like this girl, man, and I think she likes me, too, but she won’t go out with me alone. Something about not knowing me well enough or something. So, she wants to go on a double date. She has a friend who’s free tomorrow night, but I need to bring a friend too.”
It takes a moment for me to catch up, for his words to sink in. “You want me to go on a double date with you?”
“Yeah.” Jameson’s expression is solemn. He knows exactly what he’s asking of me.
“No.”
“Come on, man, please. It’s not like it’s a real date. I’m sure this girl isn’t expecting you to be her knight in shining armor or anything. I wouldn’t ask you if there were anyone else, and I really like this girl. And I swear I will never ask you to do anything like this again. I’ll pay for everything, the whole meal.”
I stare at him, trying to process. Trying to decide. I know Jameson means it when he says he wouldn’t be asking me if he had any other options.
He must take my silence as a rejection because he tries again, “I’ll get my dad’s box seats for the next Hawk’s game.”
That does sound tempting. His dad has some killer season tickets. “Three,” I finally answer.
“Three?” He’s not following.
“Three games. I want your dad’s tickets for the next three games.”
Jameson lights up and jumps to his feet. “Deal! Thanks man, you won’t regret this. I’m going to call Miranda and let her know.”
And then he’s gone. And I’m locked into a date I have zero desire to go on.
CHAPTER FOUR
Krystal
“I have a huge problem.” Miranda bursts into my room without knocking, passes me where I sit at my desk, and hops onto my bed. Throws herself onto my bed, really.
Abby looks up from her laptop and waves, but she doesn’t remove her headphones and immediately goes back to whatever she’s working on. I push my chair away from my desk and sit back, crossing my arms over my chest, waiting. “With?”
“So… you remember that guy my friend wanted me to meet?”
I nod.
“Weeelll.” Miranda draws out the word and clasps her hand in front of her. “He’s like panty-melting gorgeous.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Not seeing the problem, Mir.”
She sighs, as if I’m being intentionally dense. “He wants me to go out with him,” she says slowly, as if explaining to a child.
“And…?” I use her same tone back on her.
“And, I’m in love with Marcus!” Miranda drops onto her back dramatically.
“Ah.” Marcus Leonard. Miranda’s high school—and now college—crush. He’s never paid her so much as an ounce of attention, but she’s followed him hopelessly since the first day of our freshman year of high school, when he accidentally hit her in the face with his football. Not exactly a meet cute, and their romance is completely and totally one sided, but I humor her adorable, if delusional, fantasies. That’s what friends are for. But… maybe the time has come for her to widen the net a little. I mean, she’s never even had a boyfriend because she’s been hopelessly holding out for Marcus.
“Mir… do you like this guy?” I’m going to have to try to lead her to the point gently. She’ll never accept it if it hits her in the face.
“I like Marcus.” She sighs.
“I know that, and you know that. But does this guy know that? Heck, Mir, Marcus doesn’t even know that. It’s not like you would be cheating on him to go on one date with this other guy.”
She doesn’t look convinced, so I try a different tactic. “Plus… it will be good practice for if… er when you get to go on a date with Marcus.”
Miranda perks up, pushing up to her elbows and spearing me with a hopeful expression. “You mean like studying?” Yep, leave it to the straight A, pre-med student to compare dating to studying.
“Sure, just like studying. Just think of this other guy as your love tutor.”
“That sounds dirty.” Abby pipes up from her side of the room.
I smirk. “Only if she wants it to be.”
Miranda ignores my comment and looks thoughtfully at me. “Okay, I’ll go out with him, but only on one condition.”
“What’s that?” I ask with half interest as I lean back over my biology book.
“You come too.”
I sputter and spin to face my best friend. “Come with you? On your date?”
She nods enthusiastically.
“Miranda, that’s not how dates work. Not unless you want him to think he’s getting a buy-one-get-one-free deal.”
She shakes her head in disgust. “Not like that, dummy. I meant like on a double date. I go out with Jameson, and you come along… with another guy.”
I hold up one finger. “There’s one fatal flaw in your plan.” When Miranda quirks an eyebrow, I continue. “I don’t have a guy, remember?”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Jameson has a friend he can hook you up with.”
“So, let me get this straight… you want me to come along on your date, which has now turned into a double date, and a blind date for me?”
“Yep!” She hops off my bed cheerfully and heads for the door. Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. I’m counting on you.” And then she’s gone. Abby eyes me curiously, with laughter in her eyes.
I sigh and go back to my homework, but instead of concentrating on cell division, I’m running through scenarios to get out of this weird blind-double-date thing Abby has dragged me into.
~
Miranda lets herself into my room at 7:48 p.m. Friday night. She’s knockout gorgeous in a formfitting black mini dress and strappy black heals. Her light blonde hair is pinned up on the sides, but flows down her back, and her makeup is understated and natural, highlighting her classically beautiful features. Whoever this Jameson guy is, he’s going to have to pick his chin up off the floor when he sees her.
“Mir, if this guy is anything less than dumbfounded by your hotness, he’s not worthy of you.”
She smiles brightly and does a little twirl, arms out, to show off the whole look. “You like?”
“Like? Girl, if he doesn’t ask you out for a second date, I will!”
Miranda comes to a stop in front of me and eyes my pink f
uzzy pajama pants and gray long-sleeve top suspiciously. “You’re still going, right?”
As if the piles of makeup scattered in an arc around me on my bed and my half-made-up face don’t already answer that question. I don’t usually sit around in my pajamas putting on makeup on a Friday night unless I’m going out.
“What, you don’t like my outfit? I thought I looked hot.”
“Of course you do, babe. You always look hot, but you gotta wear real clothes out with the boys.” She uses her patronizing voice on me and heads for my closet.
“Uh uh. Back up,” I command and she stops with one hand on the closet doorknob. “Last time you got into my closet, you tried to dress me like a hooker. I can pick out my own outfit thank you very much, one that won’t have this mystery guy asking who my pimp is.
“Fine.” She holds up her hands in mock surrender and parks herself in my desk chair a few feet away. “How long do you think you’ll need to finish getting ready? Jameson is picking us up outside the building in“—She checks her phone—“eight minutes.”
“I only need four,” I answer, snapping my eyeshadow pallet closed.
“That’s what she said.” Miranda snorts.
I ignore her and climb off my bed in aim of the closet. I’ve had my clothes picked out since this morning, and I grab the hanger from the far end, then hold up my choice to display it for Miranda.
“Nice!”
I slip out of my pajamas and into the backless white halter dress made up of layers of gauzy semi-sheer material. I bought it a few weeks ago and had planned to wear for Ryan. As it turns out, most of the clothes in my closet were either outfits I’d worked specifically for Ryan or had bought and not yet worn because I planned to wear them for Ryan. Well no more. I’m done dressing for a guy. Tonight, I’m wearing this dress for me. Because I feel damn sexy in it. Because I love the way it makes my thighs look tan and toned, especially in my white peep-toe pumps. Because I like how the layers of thin material make me feel like a faerie princess garbed in something altogether more ethereal.