Foolproof

by Jennifer Blackwood

  “Dude. She fucking asked me if I wanted her to bait my hook.”

  “I think you’ve met your match.”

  “She’s something.”

  Within a few weeks of knowing me, she’d been able to point out something I’d be good at, something I’d enjoy. She didn’t treat me like I was a worthless dipshit. If I were ready to right my capsized relationship issues, she’d be the person at the top of my list. Maybe there could be an “us” someday if I got that internship at Humboldt. Our ticking time clock would disappear, and we could work on something more.

  I finished filling out the application to Humboldt and clicked send. If I could catch a break and get an internship, maybe this would get Dad off my back. The Option C I’d been waiting for. Then again, if I didn’t get it—or worse, if it turned out like every other career avenue I’d gone down—a dead end, then I’d get my hopes up for nothing. But it was a risk I was willing to take.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jules

  “How are you doing today?” Dr. Ahrendt looked at me over her black-framed glasses.

  I smiled and bounced my toes on the ground, barely able to contain the giddiness that had taken over my entire body. “For once, I can honestly say I’m great.”

  She smiled and scribbled something on her notepad. “You look happy. What’s brought this on?”

  “I met someone.” I fiddled with my nail, waiting for her response.

  “That’s great.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “It’s kind of complicated.”

  She took off her glasses and set them on the table, her brown eyes studying me. “How so?”

  “We decided to keep it purely physical, but I don’t know. I think it’s turning into something more.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Was it? I told Ryan a no-strings relationship was what I’d wanted. “I think so. It just makes me nervous.” Like if this went further, I’d have to eventually introduce him to my snotty parents who’d make him feel like gum on their Italian leather shoes. He did not need my family baggage unloaded on him.

  “Why?”

  “What if things get serious and my parents don’t like him?”

  “Do you really want your parents dictating your life?”

  Too late. “No.” I picked at my nail polish, a fleck of pink shooting to the floor. “But I don’t want to disappoint them, either.”

  “And you think this guy will disappoint them?”

  “No. I don’t know. Maybe?” I couldn’t come up with the right words to explain my parents. “They’re weird. Ever since the thing with Eric, they expect me to be perfect, and I can only imagine that would include having the perfect boyfriend.” One who drove expensive sports cars, had a trust fund, and a degree from an Ivy League school.

  Dr. Ahrendt frowned. “That’s no way to live. Have you talked to them about this?”

  I scoffed. “They’d just be disappointed in me, even if it doesn’t make sense. I always find a way to disappoint them.”

  “Maybe you should. If anything, it’d make you feel better.”

  Right. Making them angry was the opposite of what I’d want to do.

  “Jules?” Her use of my name pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s not up to your parents, or anyone for that matter, to decide your worth. Only you can determine that.”

  Baloney. If that were the case, how come it hurt so bad to disappoint the ones I loved so much? I wanted to believe Dr. Ahrendt, but the words just didn’t ring true. They couldn’t. Not when all I craved was for someone to tell me good job or even I’m proud of you. But instead I got a huge you’re not good enough and why can’t you have an ounce of Eric’s creativity?

  Dr. Ahrendt tapped her pen on her desk as she examined me. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you are the key to your own happiness.”

  I raised my brow and chewed on my lip, tamping down what I really wanted to say: easy for you to say. She was young, successful, and already had a hubby. Happiness probably followed her around in a Mickey cloud above her head.

  “Just try to keep that in mind.”

  Yeah, sure. I’d keep that in mind as I trudged my way toward a degree I didn’t want, further away from a career I’d love. God, how did I go from giddy to woe is me in ten minutes? Ryan was my saving grace in all this, and I needed to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible. I managed to steer our conversation to the fishing trip I’d taken with Ryan—omitting the sex—for the remainder of the appointment.

  As soon as our session ended, I booked it out of her office. Payton’s text buzzed through when I descended the steps of the building.

  P: Party tonight at the frat. U coming?

  J: Hells yeah.

  I hadn’t been to a party since I went to rehab. Drinking wasn’t an issue for me, it never was. Even so, I figured it was probably safer to stay away from that atmosphere as I worked on my issues. With Andrew gone, it wasn’t likely that anyone would know about what had happened the last time I was there—the day I decided to get help.

  I’d woken up on Andrew and Blake’s daybed , my panties lost in the abyss of red Solo cups and food wrappers, hickeys all over my neck and chest. Sleeping with Andrew was an all-time low. Making that ten-minute walk of shame was enough of a reality slap to push me to tell my parents. Even if Andrew did brag to his friends that we’d slept together, I didn’t think that would be a big deal with them. A lot of girls did the walk of shame from the A-Sig house.

  I repeated this as I showered, rinsing off the sunshine, sunscreen, and scent of Ryan that was still etched on my body from yesterday. It wasn’t a big deal anymore. We both knew where we stood—for now, purely physical. I could deal with that if it meant seeing the corner of his mouth tick up in a smile, his baby blues melt my insides like a convection oven, and our easy back and forth potshots, the sexy banter I knew he loved—and, if I admitted to myself—I loved as well.

  After toweling off, I went to my room and raided my closet for something to wear tonight. Twenty tank tops and skirts later, I settled on a pink halter and cute skirt. Payton came into the room dressed in shorts and a ratty T-shirt.

  Before I could say anything, she raised her hand. “Yes, I’m wearing this.”

  I sighed. The girl had so much potential. Stick her in a midriff-baring top and some formfitting denim with diamond studded pockets and she’d be breaking necks. If she wanted to be fashionably challenged, I guess that was her deal.

  “How are things going with you and Ry?”

  I fingered my ear piercings and shifted my gaze to the mound of clothes on the floor. “Good. A little confusing, but I really like him.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Payton played with a curl, twirling it around her finger, and stared absentmindedly at my dresser. “He really is a nice guy, he’s just…like an annoying younger brother.”

  “A hot brother.” I laughed.

  She scoffed, her face puckering. “Gross.”

  After a few seconds of silence, I cleared my throat. “Question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?”

  Her whole face lit up when she said, “Since I was six. Why?”

  “Just wondering if this is something I really want to be doing.” I’d known I wanted to work in sports when my dad brought me to a Seahawks game for my tenth birthday. The quarterback took a nasty tackle and was down for the count. When I saw the athletic trainers check him out, make sure he was okay, I’d known I wanted to do that. Be close to the action and help people. It was the best of both worlds.

  We walked into the living room, Payton kicking on her sandals while I strapped on my heels.

  “Is Ryan rubbing off on you? He’s the King of I Don’t Know.”

  I shook my head. Payton didn’t know jack about his situation. He at least was trying to find something he was passion
ate about. I was the one taking the coward’s way out.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop ragging on him. He’s a good guy—hold on.” My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the screen. “I need to take it.”

  Mom. Daily check-in time. I tucked Dr. Ahrendt’s words in the back of my mind, ready to pull them out if Mom started her guilt-trip routine.

  Walking to my room, I answered the call. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello, Juliette. How are you today?” Her tone was brisk, no-nonsense.

  “Fine. And you?”

  “Good. Have you looked into any of your classes for next semester? I was looking on their site and it appears as if you’ll have a very full load.”

  I gritted my teeth. How could I possibly be the key to my own happiness as Dr. Ahrendt suggested when my happy meter directly correlated with how often I talked to my parents? “No, Mom. I’m a sucktastic daughter who aims to disappoint.” Whoa. Where did that come from? Wherever it did, it felt good, like I had gained a little bit of power back.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, Mom. Just been a rough day.”

  Her breath huffed into the phone. “Eric would never dream of addressing me in that manner.”

  “Yeah, well Eric’s in jail.”

  “I’m well aware. And I’d like to keep it to only one child in prison.”

  “I’ll make sure to swallow my crack if I get pulled over by the police,” I deadpanned.

  “How did I raise such a rude daughter?”

  I knocked my phone against my forehead a few times and took a calming breath. What was wrong with me? Being mean to my mom ranked up there with kicking puppies. “Mom—I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are. I see we have nothing to talk about tonight. Stay out of trouble, Juliette.”

  “Yep. Love you. Bye.” I hung up the phone and closed my eyes. I wished I could say her remarks didn’t slither under my skin, but I’d be full of it. How could she think I really sucked as a daughter? I mean, did I? I did everything she always told me to do, and the one time I push back, she pulled that. I repeated Dr. Ahrendt’s mantra. I am the key to my own happiness. Ha. Looked like my personal mantra lock was busted.

  I parked my Subaru in the parking lot at a quarter to ten. I needed to get this Mom-phone-call-funk out of my system, and being in a place too loud to even think clearly was the perfect escape. The bass thumped through the house, and my senses went on high alert. My body instinctively swayed to the beat as we made our way to the side door. It was propped open with a brick, no bouncer in sight. During the school year, the doors were manned by the fraternity guys, usually freshmen, making sure random people didn’t creep into the house. During the summer not as many people were on campus, and most people didn’t wander down Greek row if they weren’t college students.

  The dance floor was packed, sweaty girls grinding on guys. Spilled beer sloshed onto my sandals as I walked the perimeter of the dance floor with Payton, looking for Ryan. Most likely he’d be with Blake. The beat of the song bounced through my ribcage. Normally, I’d dance all night, only stopping to sip beer and flirt with the guys, but tonight I’d rather hang out in one of the guys’ rooms, someplace where I could actually have a conversation without having to shout over the music but still be inundated in the party atmosphere.

  Payton grabbed my hand and led me over to the far wall where Ryan and Blake were talking and drinking out of red Solo cups.

  Ryan’s gaze met mine and his lips pulled into a smile. “Long time no see.” That grin ignited a fire in my veins.

  I still couldn’t believe he had a unicorn tattoo on his ass. I shouldn’t find that sexy, but having something so stupid inked permanently on his skin made me fall a little more. Not that I was falling. Just fun, no feelings.

  What a load of horseshit. The more I got to know him, the faster that sentiment dissolved.

  I bumped his arm, his warm skin brushing against mine. He reached for my hand and laced our fingers together, sending my heart into overdrive. I swallowed and ignored the pulse that hammered in my ears. “How’s that bruise doing?”

  He squeezed my hand and whispered, “Ready to be flashed to innocent bystanders.”

  “Want to play some beer pong in the room?” Blake said, curling his arm around Payton.

  Ryan looked at me, raising his brow.

  I shrugged. “Sure, sounds good to me. I’ll play with water, though. Losing team pays for munchies at the Super E.” I could really go for some Oreos right about now. Payton thought she was being sneaky by stealing from my stash at home, but I knew whenever she did because she never closed the container all the way. Whatever. I snuck some of her chocolate-covered coffee beans, so I figured we were even.

  We walked to Blake’s room, a plywood table painted gold and blue set up in the middle of the room, taking up the majority of the space. He grabbed a set of plastic cups from his closet, along with beer and a bottle of water from the mini fridge.

  He said, “Boys versus girls or couples?”

  I snuck a glance at Ryan. He didn’t seem to flinch at the word. I’d mark that down in the progress column.

  Ryan said, “Couples sounds good. You ready to kick some ass?”

  “Hells to the yeah.” I cracked my knuckles. I sucked a big one at beer pong, but he’d find that out soon enough.

  He put his arm around me. “That’s my girl.”

  If I could make a soundtrack of those words and listen to them on repeat, my heart would go into cardiac arrest from palpitations.

  Ryan lined ten cups in formation, and Blake followed suit on his side of the table. I filled the cups with beer and water, then tossed the cans in Blake’s overflowing trash. After winning the throw-off, Ryan tossed me the ball.

  I lined up my shot and said, “Better be good at this, DeShane. I’m definitely not going to be the one carrying this team.” To make my point, my ball bounced off the cup and landed in Blake’s laundry hamper.

  “My heart will go on if we lose.”

  I smiled as Ryan lined up his shot. Joking around never got old with him. The best part was, it never felt forced, something that I always struggled with when I’d dated other guys. Either they didn’t get my humor or they couldn’t keep up. Ryan and I were completely in sync.

  Blake and Payton gave each other an odd look, probably wondering why Ryan had brought Celine Dion into a conversation about beer pong. But that was our thing, not something the golden couple would understand. I bumped him with my hip and bit my lip.

  “Nah, I think we have a good chance. You’re pretty fly for a white guy.”

  “Does that make you my American Woman?” Ryan took a shot and missed, the ball bouncing off the table.

  I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. “Head in the game, DeShane.”

  “I can promise you sex and candy if we lose.”

  “What if we win?”

  Before he could answer, a couple of Blake’s fraternity brothers walked into his room—more like stumbling—and leaned against the wall. A wave of beer wafted in with them.

  “Smells like teen spirit in here,” Ryan murmured in my ear.

  I bit back a laugh and sipped my cup of water.

  “Hey, guys,” Blake called from across the table.

  “What up, B.” one of the guys slurred. He looked at me, his gaze wandering down my body. I shifted uncomfortably under his perusal. Ryan put his arm around me and pulled me close to his body. Classic territorial fuck off, she’s mine gesture. I could defend myself, but it was nice that Ryan felt the need to be protective.

  He said, “Can we help you guys?”

  Creeper guy shook his head, still looking at me. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  I’d been to this frat countless times. He’d probably seen me at a party before. “Maybe.”

  “No, I know you.” His breath smelled like old beer and pizza. Gross.

  “Oh-kay.”

  He snapped his fingers. “I know!
You’re Julie.”

  “Jules.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” His gaze dropped to my chest. “The chick who slept with A-dawg.”

  Blake called from across the table, “I don’t think so.”

  “Yeah, he told me all about it. You’re the fucking addict who got him kicked out of the frat.”

  Ryan cocked his head, staring at the guy like he’d just spoken Mandarin. “You must be high, asshole. My girl isn’t an addict.”

  Oh, Ryan. If you only knew. My cheeks heated and I pushed back the tears in my eyes. How could I get out of this one? I couldn’t, not when I was sandwiched between the wall and drunk frat dudes.

  “What the fuck do you know, bro?” Drunkie slurred.

  Blake set his Ping-Pong ball on the table and said, “That’s enough. She is not an addict and didn’t sleep with Andrew.”

  But I did.

  For pills.

  “I could hear them through the wall. She was all—” He thrust his hips out and the features on his face pinched together. “‘Oh, Andrew, right there—’”

  Something inside me snapped. This guy was trying to belittle me, just like my parents. Years of pent-up frustration bubbled to the surface. Nobody could get past that I’d done Adderall. I was past this, why couldn’t everyone else be as well?

  “Listen, asshole.” I jabbed him in the chest with my finger until an ache radiated in my bones. “Yes, I slept with Andrew. Yes, I was hooked on Adderall.” I turned to Ryan, who stared at me, clearly confused by this whole situation. “I went to rehab, but I’m clean.” I turned to address the whole room. “Not that it matters to anyone but me.” Then I turned back to Drunkie, going full steam ahead in my rant. “And if you talk about me like I’m a piece of ass one more time, your pretty little face will be regretting it. Capisce?” I gave his cheek a firm swat for emphasis.

  Drunkie stared at me, stunned into silence. In fact, the whole room was silent except for music blaring from the dance floor in the other room.

  “I asked if you understood,” I shouted. My vision wavered, and I could barely keep my breathing steady as I stared him down.

  “Y-yes.”

  “Good. Now shoo. You’re not wanted here.”