Upsy Daisy: A First Love College Romance

by Smartypants Romance

  I blinked the world back into focus and saw James at my side smiling like she stole a car.

  I shot her a look warning her to behave and couldn’t help but correct her. “Mentor, not tutor. I don’t need him to teach me anything.”

  “You sure about that?” Odie eyed me skeptically.

  “Oh no, Odessa Mae! Et tu, Odie?” I gasped theatrically.

  I heard her faint laughter over the sounds of LaBelle singing about some truly scandalous acts.

  “Don’t look now, but I think your mentor is coming this way. Vou-vou-whoo-you say avec moi?” James sang huskily, raising her eyebrows playfully and butchering the French lyrics for . . . well never mind what she was singing.

  James laughter died suddenly as I heard a voice say, “You are beautiful.”

  We both turned and saw Julian, black horned-rimmed glasses gleaming in the dim light. He was wearing a shirt similar to Trevor’s, except where Trevor’s was black with gold letters, Jules’ was gold with black lettering, the reversal of coloring seeming somewhat indicative of their personalities.

  It was a real shame Julian was a waste of a perfectly good pretty face. There really was no other way to describe him. Trevor was handsome, but Julian was pretty. And somehow being out of their dress shirts made them both more attractive. They looked younger, more accessible.

  I saw the flare in James eyes before she schooled her expression like a pro and I mentally gave her a hip bump.

  That’s it, stick girl. Don’t let him see any emotions.

  “You are beautiful, James,” Jules repeated, more sure of himself now. “Full stop. No qualifiers. You may be the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. You look amazing tonight, and you looked amazing earlier. And I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know that I said something so ugly and hurtful to you earlier.” I reached for her hand the way she’d done the first time we’d seen this beautiful, poisonous boy at in front of Spence.

  Jules was all dewy eyes, the kind that looked a bit like the person might cry. Combined with the way he wholly owned what he had said to James melted my anger.

  James squeezed my hand so lightly it was barely noticeable.

  Trevor’s voice cut through the tension of the moment startling me. “Daisy, would you like to get some punch with me?”

  “I would love to.” My response was automatic.

  I went to take a step but James’s hand squeezed mine a little tighter.

  Dammit! I couldn’t leave James.

  So cool it seemed the ambient temperature had dropped, I heard James say, “I do not forgive people, Julian P. Marshall, and you are no exception.”

  Then James let go of my hand, offered her most brilliant smile to Trevor and said, “Now what’s that you said about us all getting punch?”

  Trevor

  Breathtaking. That’s the only word for how Daisy looked. The teeny-tiny short-shorts that she was wearing were short-circuiting my brain and my willpower.

  Jules and I had reached an agreement whereby we both agreed to do the right thing.

  He would apologize to James, and I . . . I would stay away from Daisy. Except when mentoring her.

  His apology had seemed real to me, though the wet eyes were a bit much. If it hadn’t been for our conversation I wouldn’t have even suspected him of being disingenuous. I leaned toward believing he was actually sorry because he’d looked like he had been slapped when James brushed him off. Either way, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care if I’d gotten through to him. I didn’t care he meant it—I cared that he’d said it.

  We were supposed to have been long gone from this shindig but Daisy and James and their other friend whose name I couldn’t remember had taken forever to turn up.

  It was worth the wait. They looked like three stone-cold brick-houses.

  That’s beside the point, I reminded myself. The point was there was no way I was letting the sun set with this ugliness between James and Julian still hanging in the air.

  It was the right thing to do.

  But that’s not why you twisted his arm to do it. You did that because Daisy was upset and something inside you balked at her ever being upset or hurt or afraid or anything other than completely blissed out.

  I eyed her legs in those boots. I could think of one hundred ways I could bliss her out tonight.

  No, you’re going to say goodbye to her. You’re going to let her know that you’re busy and you’re going to keep your word, because that is what you do, Trevor.

  I’d given Julian my word and it was my bond. It was absolute; I never broke it. Julian knew that more than anyone. He’d seen the consequences of broken promises, same as me.

  We reached the station and I doled out three cups of punch, regretting that this was a school sponsored affair. I could’ve used a real drink, and it would’ve been nice if the punch had a hit of scotch, or better yet, bourbon.

  I handed the ladies their cups of virgin punch.

  Julian was making small talk with a group of eager freshman girls but every few moments his eyes flickered in our direction. I knew what he was trying to convey—it was time to go. He’d done his part. Now it was my turn.

  “Daisy, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  She looked up at me wide-eyed, wild haired, and smiling shyly.

  Why does it feel like you’re breaking up with her? You’ve just met her. She’s not yours.

  I sobered at that thought.

  She’s not mine.

  She never would be mine, not as long as I was at Fisk.

  Something in me cracked at the thought. There was something about Daisy. She just drew me in; she drew everyone in. I thought about the way I’d seen her with her friends, how protective and furious she’d been on James’s behalf. How her friends seemed to gravitate around her. There was just something about her gentle spirit that made people feel welcome. The idea of being so near her all year without truly being allowed to bask in her warmth felt bleak. It felt like intentionally depriving myself of the sun.

  We meandered away from the crowd slowly, my steps leaden with dread. We made our way to the other side of the grass, exited the lawn, and walked a few paces on the sidewalk. The sound of the music and the crowd faded. My fingers trailed along the warm brick wall that separated us from the party a few feet away. I stopped under the shadow of a massive, mossy oak tree.

  In a move that surprised me, Daisy stepped behind me and launched herself on the wall with impressive agility. She sat perched there, my fairy, my diminutive goddess, swinging her legs and searching my face with those eyes.

  It’s too soon. I can’t say goodbye. I need more time.

  The streetlamps set her gorgeous hair ablaze, revealing all its secrets to me.

  The space around us—between us—was quiet except for a few lonely notes from the Chi-Lites singing about being in trouble if their girl left them.

  I can relate.

  My heart was already hammering so that when she touched my shoulder and looked at me smiling shyly, I was undone. We were nearly face-to-face with her sitting high on that wall like a queen come to conquer. I knew what I should do.

  I absolutely did.

  But I didn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  “Go out with me,” I blurted.

  The grin on her face was immediate.

  I grabbed the tip of one of the fluffy coils that rioted around her shoulders and wrapped it around my fingers.

  It was only fair. She’d already wrapped me around her fingers.

  “On a date?” she questioned sweetly.

  I nodded, my voice having abandoned me.

  Her smile bloomed. “Yes, of course.”

  Her acquiescence coursed through me like an elixir. Daisy said yes, to me.

  I felt drunk and sobered all at once.

  Those magnets she called eyes seized me for a moment and I sucked in air, trying to do the right thing, trying to make it right even though it was a lost cause.

  I couldn’t have broken eye cont
act in that second if my life depended on it.

  Logically I knew it was way too soon for me to be so taken with her, but I wasn’t running on logic right now.

  Logic can get stuffed.

  She squeezed my shoulder and slid her hand to my neck still staring into my eyes. And that small, innocent touch was enough to make me suddenly, painfully hard.

  My body temperature rose all at once in a way I’d never experienced.

  I was on fire.

  I couldn’t think.

  I couldn’t see anything that wasn’t her.

  For the second time that day, I heard Daisy’s breath hitch in anticipation.

  Pulling away wasn’t an option.

  I leaned in and captured her lips, just a soft, sweet press of her lips against mine.

  Then she opened for me and her tongue darted out quickly, teasing mine.

  It was enough to send me into overdrive.

  I was frantic to feel the friction of her tongue against mine.

  I wanted to kiss her neck, to place soft kisses over both her eyelids. I wanted to kiss her forehead in a way that would let her know she was all that was on my mind.

  I was desperate to feel her pressed against me. I was desperate for her.

  “Trevor, you ready to go?”

  I jumped back. And I dropped my head low at the sound of my best friend’s voice.

  “Yeah, gimme a minute,” I said, not turning to see his face.

  I knew it would be twisted in disappointment.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled. A portion of my sanity returned and with it a slither of dread.

  What had I done?

  I’d broken my word. I never broke my word.

  Your word was all a man had.

  But maybe there was more than one right thing. Maybe there was a way. I needed time to think, time to make this right. And I couldn’t do that and be around Daisy. Spending the whole week around her—and not touching—her felt impossible now that I know she wanted me too.

  And so I told her the smallest of lies, and I hated it.

  “Listen, I have to go. I may be a little hard to get up with this week with my work-study and all. I will . . . I will meet you at Harris on Friday at six to take you out, okay?”

  Daisy smiled and nodded. She still looked a little dazed and a lot hot. I knew I should leave but before I did, I swiped my thumb across her nose and kissed her forehead, eliciting a soft gasp from her. I pulled her into a hug, inhaled her scent, and allowed myself to be drunk for just a moment on Daisy.

  Daisy

  Burning.

  Trevor’s kiss—just the slightest press of lips had burned.

  Was it possible for lips to feel singed?

  I didn’t know the answer but I was still on fire as I turned to leave. Trevor watched me from his place in the shadows as I rejoined the party. I knew I should feel ashamed for sneaking off from my first college social with a boy. But I couldn’t find my way past the heat and the giddiness coursing through my veins.

  As I made my way over across the grass and approached my friends, James eyed me suspiciously.

  I held my out my palms in a conciliatory manner and offered her a sheepish smile. She couldn’t have seen us kiss. No one had. Well, no one but Julian. But somehow she seemed to know.

  “Have a good talk with your mentor?” James asked.

  Odie stood, resting her head on James’s shoulders and batted her eyelashes at me. “You look a little overheated, Daize. All that . . . talking?”

  “Shut up.” I grinned. “He asked me out,” I said softly. Dreamily.

  “Of course he did, beautiful,” James said laughing. “Anyone with eyes could see you two have chemistry.”

  Chemistry. I’d never thought about it like that, but that’s exactly what it was. We were elements and whatever this was, it was causing a reaction.

  “This is cause for a celebration!” Odie declared as I rolled my eyes.

  “We’re going on a date, not getting hitched,” I reminded her.

  “Not yet,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

  She stepped forward, grabbed my hand, and pulled me onto the grass near the speakers.

  We bumped and we boogied and we got on down. We laughed—oh, how we laughed—as Odie broke into the Bus Stop halfway through Stevie Wonder’s “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing.”

  Up until that point, most of our peers seemed to be content standing in little clusters around the perimeter of the lawn but once we began to dance they started to migrate over, gyrating, snapping, and groovin’ to the beat.

  Odie’s soft smile found mine and she said, “See, everybody wants to dance. All it takes is a few brave souls.”

  Later that night Odie and James lay draped across the bed they’d claimed as their own, too tired to go back to their own rooms.

  “I’m huuuungry,” James whined.

  I shot her a look. “You’re the reason we missed dinner, James. By the time we got to the mixer all the free food was gone.”

  I smiled at the thought. Trevor had been right. Free food did not last around college students. I wondered what other tidbits I’d learn from him this semester.

  “I knoooow but I’m still hungry.”

  I took pity on her. “Stop your moaning. I’ll feed you.” I climbed from my spot on the opposite bed and moved to get my supplies.

  “How?” she asked hopefully, lifting just her head from the bed.

  “I think I danced my soles off. Not my shoes, my actual feet,” Odie whined.

  “I have something for that too,” I said throwing her a tin of Dr. Brother’s Get on the Good Foot cream.

  I slid a box from underneath my bed containing all the contraband I’d smuggled from home for just such an occasion, ignoring that other box.

  I unpacked its contents as my friends stared on—a hot plate, a skillet, and a few cooking utensils.

  “Daisy Paxton, you’re a miracle worker.”

  I bristled a little at my fake last name. For a moment I wanted to tell them everything.

  These are your real friends, Daisy. You don’t have to keep this a secret from them.

  It’s too soon. What if it changes things? You can’t tell them now.

  For the first time in my life I was Daisy, just Daisy. And things were as wonderful as I’d dreamed they could be. If I had to fib a little about my last name and my hometown, then that was a small price to pay for having friends who loved me for me. Besides, my friends would understand.

  I’ll make them understand. And then we will all have a laugh about that crazy time I changed my last name.

  I would tell them before the end of the semester.

  “Earth to Daize!” Odie’s sweet soprano cut through. “Whatcha thinking about, Daisy? Or should I ask who?” she teased.

  I realized I’d been holding my breath and absently staring at my mini-fridge. My hands fluttered to life grabbing the cheese, ham, and bread and, with a smile that didn’t feel quite as natural as the one before it, I announced, “Hot ham and cheese for dinner and then . . .” I dug into the small freezer compartment and pulled out a saran wrapped packet. “Homemade cookies!”

  “What the hell, Daisy? You got a hat stand and an umbrella that can make you fly in there too?” James asked incredulously. “Where did you get cookie dough?”

  “Oh. I bake.”

  “You bake?”

  I pulled foil from the box and snatched off a piece with a satisfying zzrrrrpp!

  “Yes, I bake. I love to bake. In fact, I love it so much I'm majoring in home economics.”

  “Business too, right? You could open a bakery!” James declared, answering her own question.

  I wrinkled my nose and she laughed.

  “I'm not sure I’d like that at all. People popping in for a second and just grabbing their goods and going? Using me to get what they want and then leaving straight after.” I sniffed. “I am not sure I’m that kind of girl.”

  James and Odie exchange looks of
wide-eyed surprise at my scandalous joke.

  I smiled widely, proudly.

  They burst into laughter.

  This. This was what I wanted. I wanted to make food and bring people together. I wanted to laugh with them and tend to them.

  I plopped the sandwich I’d assembled and wrapped in foil onto the hot plate. I grabbed the iron from my closet, wrapped the face in foil, and turned in on.

  And I don’t want to work at that damned Mill.

  I pressed the iron down on top of the sandwich cooking on the hot plate.

  I knew my family expected me to follow in Dolly’s footsteps and join her at Payton Mills, especially since our brother was gone.

  It was in the Mill charter that the Mill could not be sold and majority ownership could not be transferred. It had to stay within our family.

  My sister could’ve left Green Valley.

  She could’ve left everything to my father and the trustees but Dolly was big on legacy and, for better or worse, the Mill was ours.

  I sighed and then chastised myself.

  Stop being ungrateful, Daisy. The Mill has provided a great life for you. It’s given you opportunities that most people never, ever get. Most people were figuring out what they wanted to do, whereas I had my life preplanned for me. See! No work. So blessed.

  I sighed. I was being ungrateful still.

  It wasn’t that I hated the Mill. I just didn’t love it.

  It was loud and busy and serious.

  People got hurt if you were not paying attention. It was no place for goofing around, because being playful could be deadly.

  And I didn’t want to spend all my days being serious.

  So no, I did not hate the Mill. I just wanted something different for myself.

  “What are you doing to that previously delicious sandwich?” James asked bewildered.

  “Oh, we don’t have a grill so I’m making a panini press with the iron,” I said a little absently.

  “A pay-wha-dee?”

  “Panini. They’re these delicious sandwiches my sister and I had when we went on vacation one year in . . .”

  Rome.

  I couldn’t tell them we holidayed in Rome; that would lead to too many questions.