Scratch

by Rhonda Helms

  She gave me a curt nod. I could tell my apology hadn’t done much to appease her bruised feelings.

  “Maybe we can hang out?” I blurted out, wanting to make her feel a little better. “You know, sometime. Soon, I mean.” Megan came to the club where I deejayed a couple of times, but that wasn’t us hanging out together.

  She gave me a tentative smile. “Really?”

  The tightness in my chest eased up a bit. I nodded. Hell, at this point I’d have climbed Mt. Fuji with her if she wanted. Seeing the disappointment in her eyes and knowing I’d caused it had made me feel awful.

  She fluffed her curls and her grin spread. “I have the perfect idea. There’s a party on Thursday . . .”

  I groaned; I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t the first time Megan had asked me to go to a campus party with her. “Well, I thought we could rent a chick flick and overdose on ice cream or something.” One-on-one at home, where I could avoid being reminded of how socially awkward I was. Or worse, possibly have one of my stupid panic attacks.

  “But the guys there will be so hot,” she crooned, stepping closer. Her rich brown eyes sparkled from the light of my laptop monitor, which also glinted off her natural, unprocessed hair. “You have to come. Have to. I’ll do your makeup and dig some clothes out of my closet for you to wear, and we’ll turn you into a total tiger. Just one time, that’s all I ask.”

  Ugh. If I turned her down, I would be the biggest asshole ever. I’d woken her up tonight, had shut her out for months, and then I would look like I was too good to even hang out with her in public. Maybe going to this party would get her to ease up a bit on me. She’d feel like I was letting her in, and I could keep my big secrets to myself.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” I said, making a mental note to update my planner for Thursday. I could get my studying done before the party. And if the gods were on my side, I’d only have to stay a couple of hours.

  She squealed. “Yay! Okay, I need to go back to bed. I have a commutative algebra quiz in the morning. Not that I won’t ace it or anything, but I can’t go in there looking like shit.”

  I snorted. As if Megan could look anything less than beautiful. She was tall and statuesque, her skin unblemished. She could work a crowd like no one’s business. And she was majoring in math. The girl had brains and legs for miles.

  “You won’t regret this,” she added, apparently seeing the uneasiness in my eyes. “I’ll be there the whole time. It’ll be fun—you’ll see.”

  Despite my discomfort, I gave her a quick hug and she closed my door behind her. I dropped back into my computer chair and whirled around, shutting everything down. The mood to compose had left me completely. In its place was a sense of disorientation.

  To keep my hands and mind busy, I sorted the errant papers on my desk into their folders. The desk was old, but it was Granddad’s, so I took care to keep it tidy and in good shape. Then I slipped back into bed, staring at the shadows on the ceiling until my eyes grew too heavy to stay open.

  My life was supposed to be steady, comforting. Predictable. But it felt like this was going to shake things up a bit, and I wasn’t sure whether I was ready for that or not.

  “I wish you’d let me put you in a skirt,” Megan mumbled as she eyed me over. We stood on the sidewalk of a frat house right on the fringes of Smythe-Davis’s campus. Students flowed in and out of the doors, laughing. The strong pulse of a bass took over the air, slipped beneath my skin.

  “Hey, I compromised,” I protested. The skirt she’d wanted me to wear looked like a leather belt, and she’d suggested I pair it with a tiny thong. No way in hell was I going to show my vagina to the world. So I was in my requisite faded jeans, but I’d caved and worn a tight white T-shirt of hers with the words I <3 Bacon written in pink glitter letters across the chest.

  Megan had done my makeup and hair—and happily, I didn’t look like Hooker Barbie. My eyes were slightly smoky but not obnoxiously so. She’d pulled my hair into a messy bun and curled the loose ends, the ’do effortlessly chic. I’d have to have her make me over more often.

  “Well, at least the rest of you is hot,” she said with a smirk, then looped her arm through mine. We started walking toward the house, weaving between students. “Okay, let’s go get you drunk.”

  “Whoa,” I said, digging in my heels. “I’m not a big partier, okay?”

  She eyed my set jaw and backed off. “Okay, okay. But just one beer to help loosen you up. One or two, that’s it. All they’ll have is that light shit in the keg anyway—college guys are cheap as hell, in case you hadn’t noticed yet. Oh, my God, Bobby is sooo hot,” she whispered under her breath as she eyed a super-tanned football guy wearing a big smile and his jersey. He stood with a group of football players on the front lawn, all of them raising their beers in the air to do a loud toast, complete with some kind of a football chant. Then the testosterone-laden cluster moved inside.

  She and I headed in as well and stood beside a large crowd of girls talking and drinking. The music changed to a popular song, and Megan started dancing in place. Her gaze kept drifting over to check out Bobby.

  After a few minutes of watching her watch him, I sighed and waved her off. “Go. Talk to him.”

  “But I don’t wanna ditch you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She raised an eyebrow and gave me a knowing look. “The moment I leave your side, you’ll bail on the party.”

  A flush swept over my cheeks. She totally called it. “Fine. I’ll stay. For a little bit, anyway.”

  “Promise?”

  I nodded.

  Her face lit up, and she squeezed my hands. “Thank you. I owe you. Now go get a beer—it’ll help you relax.” She sauntered over to Bobby, and I saw them start to talk.

  The music was thick and potent, throbbing just under my skin. A little loud and off-balance, and the DJ could use better speakers, but I wasn’t here to work. I was going to attempt to enjoy myself.

  One beer. I could sip on it for a while and then duck out of here. Hell, it might help me relax a bit. Because right now, my stomach was twisted into knots and my hands were shaking like crazy. I took deep breaths as I scanned the packed room. I recognized a couple of guys from previous classes; they were hitting on a group of girls. Despite knowing ahead of time that the place was going to be full, I hadn’t fully prepared myself for it.

  As I looked around, I realized I was woefully underdressed. Nearly every female was dressed like Megan—tiny neon dresses or skirts, tube tops, halters, breasts practically spilling out.

  “Hey, want a beer?” some guy said from behind me.

  I spun around, and his eyes raked over my body, a grin widening on his face. He wasn’t bad-looking, with spiky blond hair and blue eyes, but he was one of those guys who knew he was fairly attractive and used his charms to work his way into women’s panties.

  Or so I was assuming. Maybe I was being unfair.

  “Um, I’m gonna go grab one,” I told him with what I hoped looked like a regretful smile, “but thanks.” A smart girl never took a drink from a stranger, no matter how nice he might appear.

  “There’s a wet T-shirt contest in the backyard in a little bit,” he said, his attention zeroing in on my small breasts. “I think you should give it a chance. We’re offering a hundred dollars to the winner.” His grin widened, and I could practically see his molars sparkling in the overhead light.

  Okay, so I wasn’t wrong about him. He was a total creep. “Thanks, but I’ll earn my way through college the sanitary way.” Before he could say anything else, I spun on my heel and headed to the backyard, where I figured the keg would be tapped.

  I would have one beer. If I hung out for an hour or so, Megan couldn’t complain about my effort. Then I could go home, curl up with a book and relax. Win-win.

  On the outdoor patio, a short brunette’s wedge heel tilted, and she twisted and fell into my side, some of her beer splashing on my hair. “So sorry!” she said with a high-pitched giggle as
I caught her and helped her right herself. “Oh, heyyy, I know you!” She squinted her eyes at me.

  Yeah, I knew her too. One of the chicks who routinely tried to get Daniel to copulate with her through the power of her seductive eye-batting. “We’re in philosophy together,” I filled in. A few drops of beer dripped down my cheeks; I swiped it away. All of Megan’s hard work, ruined and now reeking of hops.

  “Oh, that’s right!” She smoothed a hand across her tiny tank top, her boobs ballooning over. “Are you gonna be in the wet T-shirt contest? It sounds like so much fun! I’m Amanda, by the way.”

  “Casey,” I answered politely, edging along the side of the house.

  Amanda stayed on my heel as I walked toward the keg and filled a cup. She stuck hers under the spout, so I filled hers too. Not that she needed it. Then again, I was currently sticky from the remains of her last beer.

  “Ugh, that class is so boring!” she said, pouting her hot pink lips. “I don’t understand anything our prof’s talking about. I might drop.”

  The evening sun began to set, and as it dipped below the horizon, the edge of heat that had pervaded all day eased up just a touch. A gentle breeze slipped across my face, and I sighed in pleasure.

  “So, what other classes are you taking? What year are you?” Amanda took several gulps of her beer.

  I took a big drink, too, as I wove my way to the back of the yard, away from the thick crowd dancing and chatting in the middle. Maybe if I focused on drinking this beer, I wouldn’t have to talk to her so much. Instantly I felt bad at the thought. It was obvious she was trying to be friendly, but she and I had even less than zero in common.

  “I’m a senior business major, so it’s pretty much all business classes now except for a couple of electives,” I told her, gaze scanning the people milling around in the yard. Laughter was everywhere, people kissing and smiling as they talked. For some stupid reason, my heart squeezed a bit. Maybe because I wished I could shed my own personal darkness and be more like them.

  “I’m a junior,” Amanda replied as she eyed a tall African American guy walking by. “Holy hell, he’s ripped. Check out those muscles.” Then her attention turned to the door, and she sucked in a breath. “Omigod, look who’s here. That sexy guy Daniel from our class.”

  My heart slammed in my chest, and I took another big gulp of beer to help ease my sudden nervousness. A liquid languor settled in my limbs. I looked down into my cup—nearly gone. In my distracted apprehension, I’d practically chugged the whole thing in minutes.

  Shit.

  Daniel, hovering just outside the back door, looked strong and tall and more compelling than usual tonight. His black hair was slightly mussed, and he had on jeans and a black T-shirt bearing the logo of a 90s grunge band.

  “I’m going to go talk to him,” Amanda said, oblivious to my sudden buzz. She fluffed her boobs and said, “Do I look okay?”

  “You look like you’re about to devour someone,” I replied drolly.

  She giggled. “Oh yes! I totally am. Ta-ta for now!” With that, Amanda strolled across the grass, stumbling a couple of times as her wedges caught divots in the ground and threw her off-balance.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. Well, until she made her way to Daniel and slipped one hand up his chest. He gave her a warm smile in return and they started talking. Then my laughter died, and a sourness settled in my chest. I didn’t want to see her flirting with him. Or vice versa.

  I walked resolutely over to the keg and grabbed another beer. My senses felt a bit softer, yet more alert in a weird way as I sipped, determined to not chug this cupful. I could almost hear the pulse in my veins, skipping along in an offbeat melody.

  And not just because of the alcohol. Because of him.

  Had I known he was coming, I would have stayed home. Then I laughed at myself, sliding along the edge of the fence and trying so hard to not look at him. Yeah, right, like I could fight it right now. I’d been drawn to him from the start.

  Daniel’s focus left Amanda’s face. He flitted from person to person, his eyes finally locking on mine. My throat squeezed for a moment and tingles spread across my skin as panic managed to resurface for a tiny second.

  God, why was I doing this? Drinking, letting myself be drawn to him. . . . This was stupid. I had to fight these emotions and not let them take me over.

  Daniel turned his attention back to Amanda, said something briefly, then headed toward me, slipping his way through the crowd. I couldn’t tear my eyes away as I watched his progress. The alcohol buzz settled in stronger, my body now feeling light and airy. My limbs seemed stretched longer than usual. I felt strange, sultry, aware of everything around me. Contrary to how I thought it would be, the sensation was surprisingly pleasant.

  As I waited for him, fingers of one hand digging into the wooden fence, the other clenching the red cup, I lost the urge to run away to safety. My stress dissolved into small pieces, then faded back into the depths of my mind.

  In its place was a throbbing awareness that wanted him to come closer.

  Chapter 4

  Daniel’s grin grew wider as he stopped just a couple of feet from me, peering down at my face. “What’s a girl like you doing at a college party like this?” he asked in a light voice.

  “Has that line ever worked on anyone?” I asked, tilting my head.

  “Not even once,” he admitted without any hint of shame. He walked over and grabbed a red cup, filling a beer for himself, then came back to my side. “So, seriously, I’ve been to a few of these and have never seen you.”

  I gave a casual shrug, fighting the swell of butterflies in my stomach. He’s just a guy, I told myself. Don’t be so nervous. “Just haven’t made it to any, that’s all.” Understatement of the century. I sipped my beer. “Shouldn’t you be home, coming up with some new theory of philosophy?”

  “Bibo ergo sum,” he declared.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Latin, huh? What does that mean?”

  “ ‘I drink, therefore I am,’ ” he said in a teasing lilt, tapping the edge of his cup against mine. “Cheers.”

  I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he drank, then tore my gaze away, focusing on his shoes. Those Chucks again. They were well worn, comfortable. The sign of someone who enjoyed being outside doing things.

  “Did you get dragged here?” he asked.

  I darted my gaze back at his wry grin. “Roommate,” I admitted, a light flush crawling up my cheeks. My beer was warming me from the inside out, and I felt like I was glowing. “She’s around here somewhere, being social and fun.”

  Squeals came from the back of the yard. Daniel and I turned our gazes to look at the chaos. Guys with buckets were dousing a row of girls in water, revealing outlines of breasts clinging to damp shirts. I saw Megan standing beside that football guy on the edge of the crowd, clinging to his shirt and pressing her full lips to his. He wrapped his arms around her and tugged her into his embrace.

  The heat in my cheeks blossomed, and I turned back to look at Daniel’s profile, his cheekbones highlighted in the warm glow of the early evening sun. He shook his head and gave a throaty chuckle about the wet T-shirt contest, and shivers of delight danced across my skin from the sound.

  He took a swig of beer and sighed, turning those brilliant green eyes to me. “These parties always dissolve into some form of debauchery.”

  I gave a heavy sigh. “Wow. Now I really regret missing them all these years.”

  “Hey, was that a joke?” he asked, eyes wide, pressing his free hand to his chest. “Dare I think you might be warming up to me?”

  I rolled my eyes and held up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You haven’t said nearly enough Latin to warm me up yet.”

  Whoa. Who was I, this girl who was openly flirting with a guy? So unlike me. But something about him made me want to meet his wit with my own. And the beer probably helped that too. Talk about a social lubricant.

  “Casey,” a shocked voice said from beside m
e. Megan stood beside the football guy, staring in open interest at me and Daniel. She gave me what she probably thought was a sly wink but was so obvious I cringed. “What’s going on?”

  “Talking,” I mumbled, clearing my throat. “Um, this is Daniel Griffin. He’s in philosophy with me. Daniel, this is my roommate, Megan Porter. And—” Crud, I’d already forgotten the other guy’s name.

  “Bobby Ellison,” Megan filled in, her grin so wide that all of her teeth sparkled. “He’s on the football team.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Like we couldn’t tell by the jersey. But Megan was obviously infatuated with the guy and his rippling muscles, so who was I to judge? “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  Bobby gave me a curt nod, turning his attention back to Megan. He slid a hand along her side, tugging her closer to his hip.

  “So, what are you guys talking about?” Megan asked, letting out a giggle when Bobby started nuzzling her neck. She swatted his chest. “Ooh, that feels good. But I’m trying to talk here!”

  Oh God, this was awkward. I shot Daniel a glance.

  “We were talking about Latin,” he replied evenly. “And a little philosophy. We’re studying Nietzsche in our philosophy class, and he has some fascinating theories on God and morality. Have you read any of his arguments? I’d love to hear your opinion on the subject.”

  “Huh,” Megan said. I could almost see the exact moment her eyes started to glaze over. “Yeah, not really. I’m a math major, so I stick to numbers. Well, we’re going to refill our cups and then mingle around a bit. Enjoy your conversation.”

  Bobby detached from Megan’s neck long enough for them to scoot their way back into the crowd.

  I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from me. “Wow,” I said. “That was surprisingly effective. She ran right off.”

  Daniel shrugged. “She just doesn’t have our refined tastes, is all. So,” he continued, leaning his arm against the wood post, trapping me between his firm body and the fence, “are you enjoying the party?”