Saying Goodbye
Part One
A Passports and Promises Novel
by
Abigail Drake
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.
If you purchase this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case, the author has not received any payment for this “stripped” book.
Saying Goodbye, Part One
Copyright © 2016 Wende Dikec
ISBN (ebook): 978-0-9978243-1-5
(print): 978-0-9978243-0-8
Pennrose Press
P.O. Box 135
Beaver, PA 15009
Edited By Lara Parker
Proofread By Anne Marie Stahl and Annie Amsden
Cover Art By Najla Qamber
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DEDICATION
To the Department of East Asian Languages and Literatures at the University of Pittsburgh in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Because of you, I learned to speak Japanese, saw the world, and gained a deep love and respect for Japanese culture.
CAS, Class of 1989
Japanese and Economics with a
Certificate in Asian Studies.
Hail to Pitt!
CHAPTER ONE
Music pounded in my ears as bodies swayed and pressed against me, the smell of beer, sweat, and cologne permeating the air. I caught a faint whiff of vomit, too. Not a surprise. During freshman rush, all the frats filled with newbies who’d never been away from home, never had a taste of beer. Many of them couldn’t handle it, not that upperclassmen fared much better.
A seasoned sophomore, I sipped my tepid beer with a bored air of sophistication as I watched the crowd, my heels sticking to the mess on the floor and my mini-skirt pressing against my thighs. I’d grown a little tired of all of it. The parties. The drinking. The drama. But I continued to come anyway, mostly because there was nothing else even remotely interesting to do on a Saturday night.
I’d once Googled “Fun things to do on campus that don’t involve drinking.” The results included crafts and sporting events. Please. I’d rather drink than use a glue gun. I’d rather drink and use a glue gun. That actually would be kind of fun.
A mild buzz started coming on, and I grinned as a boy dancing next to me tried to impress me with his moves. I danced with him for a few minutes, not wanting to hurt his feelings, but drifted away when he tried to get too close. He reached for me, but I evaded him easily, skirting around the room until I stood with my back against a wall. I hadn’t come here for a hook up, and if I did it wouldn’t be a nameless freshman with a condom tucked hopefully into his wallet next to his shiny new student ID. I had better fish to fry, and I didn’t do one-night stands. Or meaningless make-out sessions. The first one was a rule. The second, more of a guideline, since the word “meaningless” could be open to interpretation.
My sorority sister Bethany approached from one of the outer rooms, a worried frown on her face. “Samantha. I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t find Gabriela.”
Bethany was our SS tonight. Sober Sister. Not an easy job on a night like this.
I rolled my eyes. “Let’s start upstairs.”
Gabriela had been my roommate freshman year when we’d pledged Kappa Alpha Theta together. I’d ended up in a single at the Theta house this year, and she’d moved into an on-campus apartment with Bethany, but we stayed close. The three of us. Los tres amigas, as Gabriela liked to say.
I’d spent last year keeping Gabriela out of trouble, and it looked like I’d be doing the same this year. Losing her virginity while trashed at a frat party would be a huge mistake, and I should know. I happened to be an expert at making huge mistakes. Lots of them. And they all had names.
Mistake Number One was Will. I met him at my very first frat party freshman year. A senior, he’d swept me off my feet and then slowly broke my heart. The last few months we dated had been a painful, ugly dance of me trying to hold on and Will trying to let go.
He was going off to grad school and didn’t want to carry the baggage of a needy girlfriend with him. And I was needy. And annoying. And I cried a lot. It seemed like I spent months with puffy eyes, a red nose, and a tissue in my hands. I was an emotional, ugly, weepy mess. Not my best look.
Eventually, he clipped the vine, refusing to take my calls or text me back. Painful, but the best thing he could have done for me. I hated who I’d become with him and vowed I’d never let myself act like that again. Ever.
Famous last words, right?
I met Mistake Number Two, Rob, while still mourning the loss of Will. I’d gotten an apartment at school for the summer so I could take a few classes, work, and otherwise distract myself. My parents understood, but worried about me because I was so sad. After the break up with Will, I drifted around their house like a ghost whenever I went home.
Rob snapped me out of it. He made everything fun and planned out dates, taking me to interesting places and treating me like a queen. We had picnics in the park, kissed in the shade of a giant oak, and swam at the pool, our legs tangling under the water and our skin smelling of coconut sunscreen.
I liked the way his face lit up every time he saw me. The feeling of being with someone who actually wanted to be with me was intoxicating at first, but it got old quickly. Rob had lots of good qualities, but he was as dumb as a brick. Compared to him, I was Einstein in a push-up bra. Not a nice visual, but accurate.
Rob was cute, though, and muscular, and he smelled good, so I got drunk one night and ended up in his bed. Yes, I set the bar rather high with that one. I slept with him because he smelled nice and I wanted a warm, naked body next to mine. Not my proudest moment. And I can’t even blame the tequila. I knew exactly what I was doing, or at least I thought I did.
I broke up with him the next day.
My friends called him Rebound Rob. I cried for a week after I slept with him, out of guilt and remorse and also confusion since I wasn’t sure whether we actually did the deed or not. I remembered before and after, but during was a little fuzzy. And I woke up fully dressed, which was kind of strange.
I took a vow and decided I’d never to do anything (or anyone) so stupid again, but vows are meant to be broken and only a few short weeks later I ended up with Max. Mistake Number Three.
Max needed me, the most seductive thing in the whole world. His life spiraled slightly out of control, and I wanted to help him. Save him. Sweet, funny, vulnerable Max, who smoked way too much pot and always seemed to be in trouble.
Max didn’t belong to Will’s frat, Delta Tau Delta, or to Rob’s frat, Zeta Beta Tau. I avoided both of those places like the plague. He was a Sig, as in Sigma Alpha Alpha, the rich boys who lived in the biggest house on Fraternity Row. His friends loved me and their girlfriends loved me, but Max and I figured out pretty quickly we really didn’t love each other. The sex was satisfactory, but uninspiring. We were better as friends, but we hooked up on occasion if the need arose. I saw nothing wrong with that. At least I wasn’t increasing my numbers, or making any new mistakes
.
Bethany and I strolled through the second floor of the frat, knocking on doors. Eventually, we found Max in his room, sitting with a group of upper classmen and lighting his bong. He waved us in, and I shut the door quickly behind us. Freshman weren’t invited to the pot smoking sessions, and lately everything for Max had become a pot smoking session.
His friends called out a greeting. Pink Floyd played in the background, Max’s music of choice for getting high. I enjoyed the music, but not the fumes.
“Do you want a hit, Sam? For once in your life do you want to do something a little crazy?”
He always teased me, but preferred to keep me away from this part of his life. For all his faults, Max was oddly protective. That may have been one of the reasons I kept going back to him. Over and over and over again.
“No, thanks.”
He winked at me. “I think you secretly like crazy. That’s why you dated me.”
“That’s why I broke up with you. I dated you because you’re good in bed.” That earned a happy grin from Max and some guffaws from his friends, not that they’d remember what I said in the morning.
Max took another hit on his bong. “The craziest people are usually the ones who seem sane.”
Several of Max’s friends nodded in agreement at his vast wisdom. They were all extremely high. I was getting high just being around them.
“Have you guys seen Gabriela?”
Most of them looked confused, but one girl, her eyes half shut, sat up and focused on me. “Is she the little Theta with dark hair? I think I saw her with Zach. Downstairs.”
I looked at Bethany and winced. This could be bad.
We found Zach and Gabriela in the laundry room. She sat on top of a washer completely naked, except for her socks. Zach still had his pants on, but he was in the process of taking off his shirt. We’d gotten there just in time.
Gabriela giggled when she saw us. “We were about to do some wash. Naked.”
Bethany brushed past Zach like a tiny, blond avenging angel. “No naked laundry tonight. It’s time for you to go home.”
Gabriela frowned. “Bummer. But look—I kept my socks on.”
Bethany tried very hard not to laugh. “You were supposed to keep your undies on, but at least that’s a start.”
Zach didn’t find it amusing. “Hey. We were just having some fun. You two can leave now.”
He tried to get to Gabriela, but I stepped between them. This made him turn a bright, ugly color from his neck up to his red hair. He got horny when he drank, and he also got pretty mean. He tried to push me out of the way, but I held my ground.
“You don’t want to do this, Zach. I’ll report you to residence life. I mean it.”
Zach and I met freshman year, when he’d hit on me rather aggressively and I laughed in his face. He’d hated me ever since. He seemed charming, but he had a nasty side, violence that bubbled just beneath the surface, and I didn’t trust him. I tried to warn Gabriela about him, but she refused to listen, perhaps secretly flattered someone as wealthy and as popular as Zach took an interest in her. I was less than impressed by Zach and his money.
I saw our reflections in the glass door to the laundry room. I stood just as tall as he did, although I teetered on my heels to reach his full six feet. My brown hair hung in soft waves past my shoulders, and my legs looked awfully good, although my mini-skirt was definitely an inch or so too short. I tried to push it down unobtrusively, never breaking eye contact with Zach. He was like a snake. If I didn’t stare him right in the eye, he might lash out.
He swayed, trying to focus on my face. “It’s consensual.”
“Gabriela’s too drunk for it to be consensual.”
I looked over at Bethany and she nodded as she tried to get a rather uncooperative Gabriela back into her clothing. “Back off, Zach. Sam’s right.”
He squeezed my arm so hard I gasped and tried to jerk away, but he wouldn’t let go. I thought he might actually try to hurt me. Although we were in a somewhat public place, and my friends stood right next to me, he frightened me.
I lifted my hand, ready to smack him, even though I knew it would just escalate things. I couldn’t help it. He scared me, and it really pissed me off. When I got pissed off, I tended to react rather than think.
He looked at my raised hand, his face turning an even angrier shade of red. “It’s none of your business.”
I tried to yank my arm out of his grasp again. “I won’t let it happen. I won’t let you touch her.”
I know. I have issues. And the innate ability to make a situation go from bad to impossibly worse in a matter of minutes. Fortunately, I was sort of saved from myself when another brother stumbled into the room with a drunken girl on his arm.
“Yo. Zach. We’re getting raided. You’d better get out of here.”
Zach let go of me, but still seethed. “This isn’t over yet, Sam. Remember that. I always get what I want.”
“Not this time.”
I flicked my hair over my shoulder with more swagger than I actually possessed. Zach took off, cursing me under his breath, and I turned to Bethany, rubbing my sore arm. The music had stopped, replaced by the echo of footsteps as people raced down the stairs. I grabbed Gabriela’s jacket.
“This isn’t good. We have to get her out of here.”
She could barely stand and we were all underage. Bethany hoisted her up, half dragging her to the door.
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
As we started toward the exit, Bethany gave me a panicked look. “I left my purse behind the bar. My ID is in it, and my keys.”
“You take care of Gabriela. I’ll grab it and meet you. Just head straight for the Theta house.”
I went back into the frat, pushing against the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream. I made it to the bar, and reached over it, straining to grab Bethany’s purse on the shelf next to the keg. Max stood by the door.
“Sam? What are you still doing here? The police are on their way.” He pushed me toward one of his brothers, a tall, lanky guy I’d never met before. “Dylan, get her home and make sure she’s safe. I have to go back to my room and take care of…stuff.”
I knew exactly what he meant by “stuff.” Max had enough pot in his room to raise his trouble range from moderate right up to high. No pun intended.
Dylan nodded, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “Sure. Come on, Sam.”
We left through the back door and snuck out an alley just as the police arrived. The sirens wailed in our ears and we stayed to the shadows, moving quickly. I tripped over something and Dylan took my hand, leading me through the dark streets. When we reached a point far enough from the frat, we both heaved a sigh of relief. Between the incident with Zach, and the raid on the frat, my heart rate had accelerated. It took a few minutes for it to get back to normal, and for my breathing to slow down. When it finally did, I looked at Dylan curiously.
“I thought I knew all the Sigs. Are you a transfer or something?”
The shadows from the streetlights made it hard to see him clearly, but I made out a square jaw, dark eyes, and silky hair that hung past his ears and touched the collar of his shirt. Although we’d reached an area closer to the main part of campus, Dylan still hadn’t let go of my hand. It felt kind of nice.
“I wasn’t here last year. I went…away.” He paused, a funny catch in his voice.
“Were you in Spain?” A few of the Sigs had gone for spring semester, but I hadn’t talked with any of them yet.
A whisper of a smile played on his lips. “No. I wasn’t in Spain.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy. I’m going to Japan next semester for a study abroad, and I was just curious. I’m leaving in January.”
This caused him to stop walking and look down at me, his eyes searching my face. I was tall for a girl, but Dylan towered over me. His body fit his height, though. He wasn’t too thin or too bulky. Like the porridge in “Goldilocks,” he was just right. And yummy.
“Japan? Why Japan?”
I tucked my hair behind my ear self-consciously. “It’s my major. I’m studying Japanese.”
I never knew how people would react when I told them what I planned to do with my life. I didn’t “look” like a language major. I looked like someone who would eventually be a secretary or a stay-at-home mom or a kindergarten teacher.
Oddly enough, out of all the guys I’d dated, only Rob realized I had a brain beneath all the fluff. Of course, Rob had the IQ of a doorknob, so it wasn’t really a good example, but other people looked at me and saw boobs and a pretty face. Nothing else. Even my high school guidance counselor had tried to convince me to study something more practical. Of course, I didn’t listen.
Dylan handled it perfectly. “You’re an interesting girl, Sam.”
I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. “Not really, but I’d like to become interesting. Someday. I want to be a translator, like at the UN, and see the world. I’m applying to the Translation Studies Program at the Institute of Applied Linguistics here on campus, but I don’t know if I’ll get a spot. It’s super competitive, and…I just don’t know.”
“If you really want it, you’re going to do it.”
“How do you know that?”
“There are basically two kinds of people. Those who just sort of fall into things, and those who set a course of action and make things happen.” He gave me a long, steady look. “You make things happen. I can tell. I’m observant about things like that.”
I wondered at first if he’d meant it as a joke, but he seemed sincere, something completely new for me. I couldn’t tell if he was strange or adorable. Maybe he was a combo of the two.
He held onto my hand until we reached the front of my sorority house, a giant, red brick Georgian mansion with white painted accents. Theta was the oldest sorority on campus, and the most popular. We stood outside on the stone walkway, the wind rustling our hair. Dylan stared at me, his gaze hypnotic as his dark eyes searched my face.
Saying Goodbye, Part One (Passports and Promises Book 1) Page 1