Upsy Daisy: A First Love College Romance

by Smartypants Romance

  It seemed like everything was destined to be almost with this girl.

  She was talking to someone and just her profile stole my breath.

  Daisy was always beautiful, but it was almost unbearable how gorgeous she looked with all the icing on her cake.

  And that outfit . . . I took in her curves, the way the material caught the light and accentuated her pert, round bottom. I let my eyes roam up her soft-looking thighs to her flat stomach and that peekaboo cutout between her breasts that was made for driving imaginations into overdrive.

  I was on fire. She was close—so, so close—and she was dressed like that for me.

  “You’re not thinking.” Jules voice was a mosquito in my ear.

  He was right; I was not thinking. I was feeling—just feeling.

  And right now I was feeling like walking over to Daisy, lifting her up around my waist, and carrying her where no other eyes could ever see her body in that jumpsuit ever again.

  I was feeling like I wanted to whisk her away to a place where only we existed and kiss her ‘til she was excited and breathless.

  I was feeling like I needed her to turn so I could see those eyes that made my heart gallop and my stomach swoop and drop.

  As soon as I thought about her eyes, she turned, and—BAM—those magnetic eyes found mine. Her makeup made her eyes look even larger, browner, deeper, and more hypnotic, and my heart was stuttering and somersaulting in my chest.

  I didn’t think I’d ever get used to the way my heart reacted when I stared into her eyes. The way my whole body reacted.

  But then Daisy’s eyes changed, becoming turbulent, undoubtedly hurt, before falling totally flat as if a light inside her had been snuffed. She broke eye contact, and gave me her back as she turned toward a person to her left. It was like someone had socked me in my stomach and a bucket of cold water had been thrown on me all at once.

  Oh God.

  I never wanted her to look at me like that again.

  I never want her to look at anyone like that again. What on earth was wrong? I took an instinctive step in her direction.

  I admit my brain was working a little slowly because Daisy in that outfit had redirected most of my blood flow away from my brain.

  But Jules was there to enlighten me. “What are you going to say to her? She’s been here, Trevor. She didn’t just get here. She saw everything.”

  I turned to him, eyes flaring in panic. The music, the dancing, the laughter around me all contrasted with the cold dread snaking through me. My body flashed hot, then cold, then hot again, and I had the sudden urge to throw up.

  I swallowed a few times.

  “What—what do you mean, she saw everything?”

  “She saw you dancing, she maybe even saw you kiss. You can’t very well go up to her and say, ‘So are you ready for our date? Please, Daisy, ignore the fact that you just saw me kissing my girlfriend. Should we go grab a bite?’ And even if you could somehow manage to trick that girl into going out with you, what would be the point? El is back now. You just need to—”

  Jules said this all so calmly—so rationally, like it was no big fucking deal—that I walked away mid-sentence.

  Oh God.

  She wasn’t supposed to see any of that show.

  Oh God. Oh God. She wasn’t supposed to find out like that.

  Oh God.

  Look at me, Daisy. Look at me so you can see the truth.

  Look at me, Daisy.

  My feet were moving toward her.

  I had to get to Daisy to explain to her.

  It was an act. Everything she’d just seen—the dancing, the kissing—was an act. I needed to tell her that. I would shout it from the rooftops if I needed to. And then a thought worse than all the others struck me:

  She won’t believe you.

  Elodie and I had been pulling this act off for a long, long time. We weren’t good at it—we were great at selling the lie.

  Daisy would see though, wouldn’t she? She would know the way I looked at Elodie was nothing, nothing, like the way I looked at her.

  The thought left a wake of desperation in its path. Panic, clammy and hot, gripped me and left an acrid taste in my mouth. She would see. She would know. She had to see.

  My brain short-circuited as I pressed my way through the crowd, firing all the things I needed to say to her in random order.

  She’s like a sister to me.

  I didn’t lead you on.

  It’s not what it looks like.

  I do like you.

  I never meant for you to see that.

  I do want to date you.

  I had to get to her.

  I continued weaving through the crowd, which all of a sudden had seen fit to coalesce in front of me, in between us. It felt like the universe was trying to keep me from her.

  The universe be damned.

  Nothing mattered except getting to Daisy. Except explaining to Daisy. Except pleading with Daisy. Except begging Daisy.

  I offered a quick prayer. God, I don’t ask for much, but if all those Sundays I banked growing up meant anything at all please give me the words to get Daisy to understand.

  God, please make her understand.

  I glimpsed her through a hole in the crowd. She was partially blocked, but it was clear she was talking to Jermaine Thompson, my frat brother. Correction—my dog of a frat brother. And like a dog, he was looking her up and down, openly assessing her in a way that made me clench my fists. If he touched Daisy I was going to be tempted to violence.

  I was almost there.

  I saw her smile up at him and ignored the jab of jealousy that speared me.

  She was not mine. I did not have the right to be jealous. I was not a jealous person.

  I exhaled deeply, and resigned myself to the truth.

  Except when it came to Daisy.

  Then all your bones are jealousy bones, Trevor.

  I sighed in frustration again. Would this girl be the exception to every one of my rules?

  Without warning, my path to Daisy was suddenly cut off by Daisy’s friend. Her name was something with an O—Ophelia or Octavia or something.

  I remembered thinking she reminded me of a teddy bear when I’d first seen her, but now, she looked more like a mama bear.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said out of the gate. “We’re all here to be seen, not to make one. Go back to your friends and leave her alone. You’ve done enough.”

  If it were Jules I’d have walked past her without responding. Every second spent talking to someone else was a second not spent not explaining to Daisy. But this was Daisy’s friend and I didn’t want to piss Daisy off even more by making her friend angry.

  Presently, she was looking at me like if she could set me on fire, I’d already be a pile of charred ashes.

  “It’s not what it looks like.”

  She cocked her head, examining me with a probing glare.

  “It’s not what it looks like. Hmmmm. And just what do you think this looks like to me? To Daisy? To all of her friends? To half the freshman class?”

  I opened my mouth, but no rejoinder came out.

  She continued to stare me down, which was ironic because I towered over her and I literally had to look down at her.

  Daisy chose that moment to look up from her conversation and looked at her friend quizzically. She took a step in our direction but was stopped when James touched her arm and shook her head. Daisy turned her back and—she didn't even glance at me.

  “It doesn’t matter,” her friend said, calling my attention back to her. “Whatever is going on with you and Elodie Mayhew—”

  My head snapped back as if I’d been slapped.

  Julian was right. People talked. I had been a fool to think that Daisy and I had gone unnoticed simply because most students weren’t back on campus yet. Daisy maybe would’ve been fine seeing anyone else, but I was already too well known.

  I hadn’t been thinking. Daisy made it too easy not to think. She made it
easy to block out the rest of the world.

  “Whatever is happening with y’all, Daisy is out of it.”

  “Then let that come from Daisy’s mouth,” I snapped. I knew that my anger seemed unfounded to her and probably wouldn’t help my case, but I was just so frustrated. She stood there giving me commands like a tiny empress as if she was the authority on Daisy and me.

  Fatigue began to claw at my edges. This was not how this night was supposed to go.

  I exhaled deeply, planning to soften my tone. I was not a man who snapped at women, but it was unnecessary because Ophelia or whatever her name, was not cowed by me at all, in fact she still glared at me.

  “I only want to explain what—”

  Cutting me off, she opened her arms expansively and I took in all the folks around us dancing, laughing, watching. “Even if you have a perfectly reasonable excuse—not reason, an excuse, and it would have to be an excuse from God himself—do you think this is the time and place to have that conversation?”

  She had me and by the look on her face, she knew it.

  “Leave her alone, Trevor. You’ve humiliated her enough. Just . . . leave her alone.”

  Daisy’s friend turned her back to me and in desperation I grabbed her shoulder because I needed to get a message to Daisy. She shook me off, rearing back like she was absolutely sure I’d lost my ever-loving mind.

  Maybe I had.

  “Ask her to meet me later. I need to explain. I owe her an explanation. Just tell her to meet me in the spot where we were supposed to meet up tonight.” Daisy’s expression had broken me; in that moment I would’ve told her the entire truth if it meant forgiveness.

  “I will not.”

  I growled.

  “She doesn’t owe you anything. Anything. You hurt her. You played her. And now you want her to go out of her way to let you explain your side? Why should she? If I tell her to come meet you, what could you possibly tell her that is gonna make her not look like a fool in front of everyone, Trevor?”

  I didn’t answer because I couldn’t.

  She snorted in disgust, shook her head, turned, and in a few short strides, was swallowed by the crowd.

  And then Jules was there at my side joined by a few of our other friends. I don’t know what my face looked like, but Jules looked at me and for once he didn’t say a word. He simply placed his hand on my shoulder gave me two quick pats and sipped his drink.

  Tumult.

  That was the only way to describe how I was feeling. Daisy had come into my world and in the span of seven days she’d flipped the entire thing upside down.

  Her friend was right.

  I’d hurt her. The way she’d looked at me . . . just recalling it made my stomach plummet.

  You were going to end it anyway, Trevor.

  Just let her go.

  I felt sick again. Hot and cold, palms sweaty, heart racing, sick. I hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her. Her friends’ accusation rang in my ear over and over again.

  You hurt her. You hurt her. You hurt her. Each one stabbed me in my chest.

  I thought I’d known hell, I thought I’d known misery, I thought I’d known jealousy.

  But I’d been wrong.

  I was just beginning to know those things.

  Because hell was watching man after man walk up to the object of your affection, hitting on her, admiring her, wooing her.

  Agony was watching as she took interest in one as he handed her a drink. It was hearing the wind carry her voice so full of curiosity as she said, “No, I’ve never drank before.” It was watching him gaze at her as her nose scrunched as she took her first sip.

  Jealousy—hot, sick and green—was standing back as Daisy had a first experience, any experience, with another man. It was watching her make memories with another man.

  And hopelessness was feeling like I’d never get to make memories with her in the future.

  The longer the night went on, the more out of reach she felt.

  I had not given up hope of explaining to her in the future, but her friend was right. Now was not the time. I didn’t try to approach her for the rest of the night.

  Instead, I watched her.

  I watched her laughing with her friends. I watched the way the light caught her mystery hair. I watched as she went from thinking liquor tasted terrible to thinking it tasted great.

  I watched as she drank, drink after drink . . . and I felt guilty because, while I recognized Daisy was an adult and could make her own decisions, I couldn’t help but feel like she was drinking in part because of me.

  I watched as she pointedly ignored me.

  My misery turned to worry as I realized she was past her limit and guys were still hitting on her and plying her with drinks. Mercifully, James intervened just as I was about to confront Dexter Hines, who was persistently trying to get a tipsy Daisy to leave with him.

  She and her friends finally left the party and headed back in the direction of their dorm.

  My friends, having sensed my mood, had left me alone for the rest of the night, which was fine with me. This was a special type of misery where company wouldn’t help. Instead of sticking around I headed off to walk home, glad to have this hellish day finally winding down.

  Elodie caught up to me a block into the walk and looked up at me in that beautiful haunted way of hers. Her arms went around my torso, giving me a squeeze.

  “Thank you, Trevor. Just . . .thank you.”

  I wrapped my arms around her back, hugging her tight because this embrace was real, not for show, and not for anyone but us.

  We walked in silence for a minute before she grabbed my hand and whispered, “You’re doing the right thing you know, letting her go.”

  I swallowed and nodded but I didn’t agree—not really. Because it didn’t feel like I was letting Daisy go at all. It felt like I was letting her slip away. And it felt as if I’d never be the same.

  Daisy

  WHY DID I WAIT SO LONG TO DRINK LIQUOR! IT FELT AHHHH-MAZING!

  And then it didn’t.

  And then it really, really, did not.

  I knew it was morning because light was coming through my dorm room window. Demonic light. Hellfire light, that burned unholy and bright.

  My head was splitting and my mouth tasted like rot. I rolled over and—

  Oomph!

  The floor greeted me, hard and sturdy as ever. The pain felt fitting.

  Lovely. I hadn’t fallen out of the bed since I was four.

  I groaned from my spot on the floor.

  James sat up, took one look at me and deadpanned, “Well, well, well. Look who’s back from the dead, like Lazarus.”

  I groaned, again. “Why on earth does it feel like this?”

  “Because you can’t go from having a learner’s permit to being a goddamn NASCAR driver, Daisy. I told you to stop after three!”

  I shuffled through my memories while lying on the floor because the floor felt cool and my head hurt and I may have broken my arm when I landed on my side. It throbbed so badly it had to be broken.

  I’d gotten dressed. I’d gone to meet Trevor. And . . .

  Trevor . . . It felt like someone had placed their boot on my chest and stepped until they cracked all my ribs. Like there wasn’t space for my heart or lungs to fully expand.

  Pain. Sharp. Humiliation. Sharper. Anger. Sharpest of all.

  Those three emotions had held me in their grip until the alcohol had taken over and muted them all.

  I willed my mind to clear. I couldn’t think about Trevor. Getting drunk had been accidental but not a bad plan, in retrospect.

  I sat up and the room spun.

  Okay, so not a good plan either, but it had kept me from crying my eyes out over someone who clearly wasn’t worth the tears.

  I sighed. “I think I remember all of last night, but I can’t be sure I actually remember all of last night. Did I do anything or say anything to Trevor that would lead to me having to transfer schools immediately?”


  James rolled her eyes, stretched, and yawned. I noted from my place on the floor how utterly unfair it was that she looked like a magazine cover model even when she had just woken up. I was sure I looked like feral rats had performed a mating ritual in my hair as I’d slept.

  James lithely hopped down off her bed and extended her hand to me.

  “Get up,” she said, pulling me up with more strength than I’d thought possible from someone so thin.

  “James,” I said meekly, trying to find my balance on legs that felt tired and shaky.

  “Daisy.”

  “I didn’t make a fool out of myself last night, did I?”

  She looked at me hard for a moment and I felt a little afraid of what she might say.

  After a second she sighed. “Daisy.” She paused before trying again. “It depends on what you mean by making a fool out of yourself. I don’t know what kind of Mayberry-ass-Leave-it-to-Beaver town you grew up in—”

  I opened my mouth to defend Green Valley and snapped it shut because I’d have to defend Greenville, instead.

  “That you haven’t drank before the age of eighteen, but Daisy, you can’t ever get so drunk that you have to ask someone else what happened the night before. Do you understand me? And you can’t accept open drinks from guys either. You never know what they might’ve put in it. So no, you didn’t make a fool of yourself in the way you’re talking, but you were reckless and girls that look like us—girls, period—can’t ever afford to be reckless. At least not in that way.”

  Another kind of shame flooded me swift and strong. James was absolutely right, and not because I didn’t know any better. Even though I’d never drank before I had common sense. I’d been angry and willful, and that combination made my actions idiotic.

  Thank God no one drugged me. Thank God my friends didn’t leave me.

  I looked at her to apologize for my behavior—for making my friends worry—but she held up her hand.

  “No need to feel ashamed. Rookie mistake. I’m just trying to speed your education along and make it less painful. Since whoever raised you apparently never let you or the Beaver go and play with the other kids.”

  I cracked a smile at her joke. She had no idea.

  “Do I need to explain the birds and the bees to you too?” she teased gently. I laughed it off, but it sounded shrill even to me and I waved her away. Laughing was a mistake. My head pounded harder at the sound of my own voice.