My fingers moved numbly through my books as I searched for the letter. It was now or never.
I perched on the edge of my bottom bunk and opened the familiar stationary once again.
The words hadn’t changed. My mom’s handwriting was the same as always. It started out exactly how it had this morning.
Even though I’d willed it to change.
He cheated on me.
A stupid tear leaked out of the corner of my eye as I read the rest of the letter. She caught him cheating on her with our neighbor, Janet Finster. She was ten years younger than my mom and had fake boobs.
She was a divorcee who worked at the beauty salon in town. She smoked Misty’s and drank chardonnay by the gallon.
I hated her.
Well, now I hated her.
Once she’d offer to buy me birth control when my parents weren’t home. She said I could tell her what I didn’t tell my mom. What I didn’t tell her or my mom was that until Jake decided that I was not a little kid anymore, I didn’t need any.
Janet’s house was on the other side of our house than Jake’s. Jake lived with his old man because his mom had split when he was a baby. When I was a little girl, I used to wish that Jake’s dad, Carl, would marry Janet Finster so that Jake would always stay on my street.
Now I wanted Janet Finster to get hit by a bus.
She didn’t deserve Jake’s dad. And she sure as hell didn’t deserve mine.
My mom said the divorce was going to be final soon. They filed the papers, so now she had to wait on the lawyers and paperwork and blah, blah, blah.
I stared at her slanted, precise handwriting in horror. In the pit of my stomach, I’d known that there was no working this out. Before I even knew why they were splitting, I’d seen how determined my mom was. She wanted nothing to do with dad anymore.
She’d probably be happiest if both Janet and dad got hit by a bus.
Couldn’t say that I blamed her. This whole thing had gotten so warped. God, this sucked.
The sound of a key being pushed into the lock and the door sliding open sprung me into action. I crumpled up the letter and shoved it under my mattress. I had just enough time to swipe at the lone tear on my cheek before my roommate appeared.
She took one look at me and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, Cass. You’re here.”
I kept a bored expression. “Hi, Jill.”
The door slammed behind her and she set her purse primly on the countertop on her side of the room. Everything in our dorm was divided down the middle except the bathroom and our bunk beds. But in every other way, we avoided each other like the plague.
Her dresser sat on her side of the room, clean, organized and covered in perfumes. My dresser had clothes and underwear sticking out of every drawer and the top was covered with tapes and magazines. Her vanity area had three matching caboodle sets filled with makeup, hair benders, Noxema and press-on nails in every color. Mine had black lipstick, black nail polish and a wash cloth.
She looked around her vanity for a minute before glancing at me over her shoulder. I could feel the bad vibes already and I just wanted to bolt, but I had a major life event to get ready for and I couldn’t let her get to me today.
“Have you seen my pink banana clip?” It was her tone that made me want to hurl myself across the room and pull out her perfectly curled blonde hair.
“I haven’t,” I said instead.
She turned to face me. “Are you sure?”
I threw myself backwards on my bed and pulled at the choker around my neck. “Get real, Jill. I wouldn’t even know what to do with a banana clip.”
I felt her huff of annoyance, but she didn’t press the issue. Jill had only ever known me as goth. My explanation was perfectly acceptable to her.
Little did she know that I had an entire stack of them back home. One in every color. And a crimper that crimped hearts into my hair.
Ugh. Just remembering my former habits made me want to ralph everywhere.
I also had a caboodle. But I was less embarrassed about that.
Those things were handy.
“So you’re sticking around then? Did you realize what a waste that stupid band concert was?”
I rolled my eyes and stared at the underside of her mattress. “Battle of the Bands is not a band concert, spaz. It’s the sickest band showdown ever. Any local band who’s anybody is in it. There’s a thousand dollar cash prize for the winner.”
“So are you going or what?”
I pushed up on my elbows so I could stare at the back of her head. “Step off, Jill. I’m going, okay? Gina’s coming over to get ready and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
She glanced at her watch and went back to primping her already perfect face. “You should probably hurry if you want to catch the next bus.”
I hated how her words made me feel less than her. Just because her richie rich daddy paid for her brand new Beamer, she thought she was the tits.
And that was why I couldn’t be blamed for the words that came out of my mouth next. “We’re not taking the bus. We have a ride.”
She made a disbelieving sound and I watched her wrinkle her nose again in the mirror. “With who? Your freak friend Gina can’t drive.”
“No, but Troy Cameron can.”
She turned all the way around to stare at me, mouth ajar, eyes buggin’. I jumped off my bed and moved over to my closet to hide my smile.
I’d had my outfit picked out for weeks. I even bought a new bra for the special occasion. Black, lacy and something my mother would kill me for if she ever found it.
Whipping off my shirt just to make Jill uncomfortable, I changed undergarments with my back turned to her, then grabbed the black mesh shirt to wear over it.
The bra itself was more of a crop top and the mesh holes were really small, so you had to basically stare at me to figure out my shirt was see through, but I felt sexy. And tonight of all nights, I needed to feel sexy. I swapped one black mini skirt for another only this time I paired it with my fishnet stockings. I’d managed to snag a few holes in them, but they looked good like that.
“You’re not serious?” Jill finally hissed.
I glanced at her over my shoulder and shrugged. “Why would I lie about that?”
Gina knocked on the door and shouted, “Open up, Miss Popularity! We have innocent boys to corrupt!”
I smiled and turned toward the door, but Jill beat me to it. Before Gina could even step into the room, Jill slammed her with questions. “Are you really riding with Troy Cameron tonight? Or is the psychopath lying to me again?”
Gina pushed past her by ducking under her arm. “She only lied to you one time. And that was for your own good.”
“How is telling me my blue eyeshadow causes cancer for my own good?”
Gina plopped down on my bed with a dramatic sigh. “Have you ever looked in the mirror with that stuff on? Believe me, it was for your own good.”
Jill was too worked up to take the bait. “Are you going with Troy Cameron tonight or not?”
Gina’s mouth spread into a wide grin. “Jealous?”
“Obviously not. Mark is coming over tonight and I’m not planning on him leaving.” She turned to me while I worked on lacing up my boot. “So don’t bother coming back after the show. You can crash with your friend.” Her lips pursed and then she added, “Or Troy Cameron since that’s like a thing now.”
“It’s so not a thing,” I assured her. “Just because I’m getting a ride from a guy doesn’t mean I’m going to give him a ride. “
Jill made a squeaky noise. “You’re so gross.”
“And you’re so…” I chewed on my bottom lip, deciding which insult to hurl. There were just too many to choose from.
A horn honked down below and even four stories up we were drawn to the sound. Gina and I rushed to the window just in time to see the upper half of Troy’s body lean out the driver’s side window so he could wave at us.
“Please tell me that’s not his car,” I laughe
d.
He honked again and waved fanatically.
“Pretty sure that’s his car.”
It was impossible to miss the rust orange station wagon taking up the entire drive down below. The car didn’t look like it could make it across campus, let alone all the way to Graffiti’s. But it was too late to take the bus now.
I stepped back from the window and checked out my hair one more time. I scrunched my thick hair in my hands and quickly applied some more eyeliner and mascara. Turning back around to Gina, I couldn’t help but ask, “How do I look?”
She smiled at me. “Sexy. That shirt is totally hot.”
I caught my bottom lip in my teeth again. This would work. This had to work! Jake Turner would finally notice me and we’d end the night by riding off into the sunset. Or go back to his apartment. Or with just a really hot makeout.
I wasn’t exactly picky at this point.
I just needed Jake. And it had to be tonight.
“And me?” Gina asked. I checked out her red plaid, pleated miniskirt with black, lace up, knee high boots and white tank top—the kind my brother wore under his shirts. My friend was a so slammin’. There wasn’t even competition.
“You’re hot, Gina. The boys will be drooling.”
“Then, let’s go, my friend. Our chariot awaits.”
We grabbed our purses and hurried through the door. Just before it closed I grabbed it and poked my head back through. Jill was still staring at is in horror.
“If you or Mark touches any of my stuff, I’ll make voodoo dolls of you both and give you crabs.”
She made that same squeaky noise again, but I didn’t wait around for her comeback. Having this image did come with certain benefits.
Like people assuming you dabbled in voodoo for instance.
At least my possessions would be safe.
For tonight.
“Ready?” Gina asked me as we hurried down the stairwell.
I smiled at her. “I’ve been waiting for tonight my entire life!”
“You’re going to slay him, Cass. He’s seriously going to fall over dead when he sees you.”
A laugh bubbled out of me. “Let’s just hope he at least kisses me first.”
“You sit shotgun,” I pleaded with Gina when we reached the lobby.
“Why?”
“Because I have to sit by him in English, so my Troy quota is full.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You know him better. You sit by him.”
“He smells good,” I told her. “He doesn’t have much of a personal bubble, but he smells good.”
“Let’s just both sit in the back,” she suggested. “He can be our taxi driver.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good idea.”
Only when we got to the orange monstrosity, the passenger door swung open and a massive human jumped out. Gina and I both gasped and took a step back.
Troy was now sitting on the ledge of his window, peering over the top of the car with that cocky grin on his face. “Ladies, this is Mikey. Mikey, this is Cass and…?”
“Gina,” she announced with a curtsy.
Both guys smiled, but the new one jerked his chin and said, “Sup, Gina?”
She didn’t say anything. I had been expecting smart assey and sarcastic, but she just smiled at him and waved.
He was definitely another jock. From his tall build and muscled arms, I could tell he was one of Troy’s tribe.
Great, two football meatheads to keep us company. This night just kept getting better and better.
“You a big Fresh Suicide fan, Mikey?” I didn’t want to like this guy, but he definitely had more points with me than Troy—just because he wasn’t Troy.
“They’re so sick,” he agreed. “I catch all their shows when I’m here.”
My icy heart melted a little. I couldn’t hate someone that loved Fresh Suicide as much as I did. “Did you see them the last time they played Graffiti’s? It was nuts.”
He sounded genuinely disappointed when he explained, “We had a game out of town. But I heard it was insane.”
“Cass knows Jake Turner,” Gina added, a smug smile lighting up her face. “They’re like actually friends.”
Mikey’s eyes got big and he exclaimed, “Nu-uh!” but I didn’t miss Troy’s grunt of disapproval. Apparently Troy was not a Fresh Suicide fan. “Are you for real?”
“It’s legit,” I told Mikey, choosing to ignore Troy completely. “We were neighbors growing up. He said he’d get us backstage after his set.”
“Dude!” Mikey laughed. “You were right, Cameron. This girl is radical!”
I glanced at Troy, who looked super uncomfortable. Had he really called me radical? Something smooth and warm burned through me. I tried to ignore the sudden jolt of nerves through my system, but it was impossible. Even if I couldn’t stand Troy, it was still nice to be complimented.
I wasn’t completely emotionless.
“Let’s go,” Troy called out, banging the top of his rusted ride.
Mikey stepped back and held the passenger door wide for me. “After you, Cass. The cool kids get to sit up front.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m—”
Mikey had already moved on, forgetting about me entirely. “Let me get that for you,” he told Gina, swooping in to open the back door.
His eyes stayed on her the entire time she crawled into the backseat. First on her face, then on her ass as she tried to keep her skirt down and not flash anyone.
“What’s the hold up, Carmichael?”
I leaned down so I could meet Troy’s blue-eyed gaze. “Nothing.”
“Then get your ass inside, we have places to be!”
I complied, sliding into the passenger seat. I tugged on my skirt lest I flash anyone unnecessarily too and finally settled as comfortably as possible in the giant orange monster.
I avoided looking at Troy completely until he said in a low voice, “Seatbelt.”
I turned my head and took him in for the first time. His light brown hair was pushed back, away from his face and he was sporting a fresh shave. He looked so different than how he showed up to class in dark jeans, a white V-neck t-shirt and a brown leather jacket.
My mouth went dry and I licked my lips, trying to find moisture and sanity. My brain also decided to go blank and I blinked at him cluelessly. “Huh?”
He tugged on his own safety belt. “Your seatbelt. Can you buckle it please?”
“Uh, sure.” I reached back and pulled the seatbelt around my waist, clicking it into place. When I turned back to him, his gaze was floating over my body taking in my short skirt and the small holes of my shirt. I cleared my throat and his eyes snapped to mine. “Good?”
He cleared his throat, his voice dipping lower than usual when he said, “Yeah, we’re good.”
His long fingers turned the keys in the ignition and I had to smile at the rabbit’s foot dangling from the chain. He didn’t strike me as the superstitious type. But really, what did I know about Troy Cameron? He might be terrified of black cats for all I knew.
He drove deftly through the student parking lot and beyond campus. He seemed to know the area well and I almost asked him if he was from here, but I held my tongue. I wasn’t here to be friends with Troy. We just had a project.
And Gina and I needed a ride.
No big deal.
“Oh, shit,” I groaned. “I forgot my English notebook.”
Gina and Mikey had fallen into easy conversation in the back seat and since Mikey had rolled his window down a crack, we couldn’t hear them very well.
But when Troy glanced over at me, registering the small size of my purse, his eyebrows shot up and he exclaimed, “Did you forget the sandwiches too?”
Mikey heard that. He slid forward and threw his gigantic arms over the long bench seat. “You forgot the sandwiches? I was promised sandwiches!”
I glanced back at Gina, who was trying not to laugh. “Where were we going to get sandwiches?” I demande
d of them. “It’s not like I have ham and cheese just sitting around in my dorm room.”
Troy cocked his head back. “Why not?”
“Because I have a dining room punch card. I eat my meals in the cafeteria.”
He still looked confused. “But what about when it’s not meal time. What do you do for snacks?”
“How many snacks do you eat a day?”
Mikey and Troy shared a look, grinning at each other. “Enough that we keep ham and cheese in our dorm rooms,” Mikey laughed. But then he sat back and rubbed his belly, pulling his shirt up to reveal a tanned stomach and lots of muscles—too many muscles.
I caught Gina staring.
“I’m not going to make it through the night,” Mikey declared. “I need food.”
Troy glanced at his watch. “We have time to stop. There’s a diner on the way.”
“We don’t have time to stop,” I argued. “We’re already cutting it close.”
“We have time.” Troy’s hand shot out and grabbed my knee, squeezing it in his giant palm. “Chill, Carmichael. The opening bands will suck anyway. You’ll get to see your boyfriend play. Promise.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
Troy looked over and caught my gaze for a brief moment before turning back to the road. There was something in those blue eyes I couldn’t read, something surprisingly deep and heated. I held my breath until he looked away.
“Then what’s the big deal? If you two aren’t going out, why do you care so much?”
Troy was nothing if not nosey. “Just because we’re not going out, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
“Gross,” Troy grumbled. “With him? He’s a walking STD. The dude has slept with half of campus. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up defensively. “That’s good to know. I’ll be sure to let him know you’re not interested in a relationship with him.”
Troy let out a bark of laughter. “He’ll be relieved, I promise you. And not because of me. Any sane person at Wharing would be happy to have a relationship with me.” His cocky grin said he actually believed that. “But your boy Turner isn’t interested in a relationship, Carmichael. Not with me. Not with you. Not with anybody.”
1988: Need You Tonight (Love in the 80s: A New Adult Mix) Page 3