Wanting More (Love on Campus #2)

by Jessica Ruddick

  I pulled at the neck of my sweater, which was suddenly suffocating me. The heat was blasting in this place, which I supposed was necessary to keep the scantily clad clientele comfortable.

  Bad luck for those of us who actually dressed like it was twenty degrees outside. Twenty-one degrees, to be exact.

  Casey stopped and stood on her tiptoes, peering over everyone’s heads. “I don’t see her.”

  I looked around for Natalie, trying to be helpful, but I’d only met her once months ago, so I might not even recognize her.

  Casey’s hand was jerked from mine as a smaller girl threw herself at Casey. “You came!”

  It had to be a prerequisite for sorority girls to be able to squeal in that high-pitched way that made your eardrums want to bleed. I’d never met a sorority girl who couldn’t do it. Even Casey was known to squeal in glass shattering tones from time to time.

  Casey hugged her back. “Of course I did!” She grabbed my hand and pulled me closer. “Natalie, this is Bri. I think you’ve met before.”

  I started to hold out my hand then thought better of it. That might be too formal—we weren’t in the office. “Hi, Natalie.”

  “Hi, Bri,” Natalie said. “I think we met at the tailgate.”

  I nodded, pleased. It was silly. It shouldn’t matter. I was just so used to being overlooked—it was nice for someone to remember me.

  “We have a table over there.” Natalie pointed in the direction we’d come. “It’s just a bar table, so no chairs. Standing room only, but at least there’s a place to set your drinks down.”

  We followed her through the wall of bodies to a tiny table covered in half-empty bottles and glasses. She wasn’t kidding about the standing room only. You’d think Kurt Cobain had risen from the grave and was performing in a Nirvana reunion concert rather than just a mediocre local band playing.

  Natalie introduced Casey and me to a slew of people, and I forgot their names as soon as she said them. The ones I heard anyway. Between the band and the people, it was deafening.

  Casey leaned in and said something that sounded like “two fools on the brink?”

  “What?” I yelled back at her.

  “Do you want a drink?” Casey screamed in my ear.

  I shook my head.

  She looked at me with creased brows and a question in her eyes, making sure I didn’t change my mind. I motioned for her to go ahead to the bar.

  To her credit, Natalie tried to strike up a conversation with me, but I couldn’t hear a word she was saying. I smiled and nodded, but after a moment, it became clear she was asking me questions that required more than just a smile and nod. I gestured to my ears and shook my head. She nodded and laughed, then stepped away, leaving me to fend for myself.

  Fend?

  What was I fending exactly? Like Casey was always telling me, I needed to relax. I took a deep breath and tried to get into the music. The band wasn’t half bad. Maybe I’d been hasty in labeling them mediocre.

  Someone jostled me, causing me to bump into the table, and all the drinks sloshed around, some of them spilling. Several people gave me dirty looks.

  Screw this.

  Where was Casey? I stood on my toes, trying to peer over and through people. She was still fighting her way up to the bar.

  I needed to tell her I was leaving, but I’d have to throw some elbows to get through to her. We’d driven separately, so I wouldn’t be abandoning her, and this was her deal, her friends—well, her little sister’s friends, anyway. I pulled out my phone to send her a quick text. Then I reached across the table to tap Natalie on the arm and motioned that I was leaving.

  Done. I could escape without feeling like a bad friend. Or at least not too bad of a friend.

  I wove my way toward the exit, but got caught up in the bottleneck near the bar. I tried to dart through an opening between two people, only to find myself smashed under some guy’s armpit with a girl’s boob in my face.

  I was beginning to think I hadn’t missed anything as an undergrad.

  I jerked my face away from the guy’s pit and locked eyes with a familiar face across the bar, someone who was also leaving.

  Fudge.

  This was exactly why I didn’t go to bars with undergrads in them. Now a client had seen me catching a whiff of some guy’s Speed Stick, and if that weren’t enough, I was nose deep in cleavage.

  With any other client, I could probably just laugh it off, but not with him. Not with Joshua Davidson. Everything was already a joke to him, including me.

  I quickly broke eye contact and disengaged myself from the compromising position. I dared another look toward the exit, hoping he hadn’t recognized me. Just because we’d locked eyes didn’t mean it had registered with him who I was.

  Double fudge.

  Not only was he still looking at me but his lips were curled into that cocky smile of his, his expression amused. He jerked his chin up at me and gave a little wave.

  Look away. Just look away.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him.

  He was with a few others and had his hand on the small of a girl’s back. I could tell that he was totally in his element.

  Which made me dislike him more.

  I was awkward, couldn’t even escape a bar without an armpit in the face, yet he was totally relaxed. I was a sweaty mess, but he looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ magazine. I was in his world now.

  I sorta hated him.

  Then I hated myself for that thought. I was his counselor. My job was to help him.

  Even if he did remind me of everything I lacked.

  “Excuse me,” I said, trying to take a step backward, but finding someone else pressed up against me. I was trapped. Literally.

  “Excuse me,” I said again, louder this time. Boob Girl squeezed by, finally, and I was left with Armpit Guy. I moved into the space left open by Boob Girl, but I was still only about one step closer to the door.

  I looked around in frustration. All I wanted to do was leave.

  A hand clamped on my wrist and I instinctively jerked away. I looked up to see Josh with both hands up in surrender.

  “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out.

  I looked at it reluctantly, then sighed. I took his hand. What choice did I have?

  He expertly led me out of the crowd. It was surreal. It was like he was Moses parting the Red Sea or something. Josh was the Moses of Thirsties.

  Instead of taking me to the exit, though, he led me to the corner of the bar. He must have assumed I was on my way there. I opened my mouth to correct him, but my voice was overpowered by the high piercing whistle he made using two fingers in his mouth.

  The bartender looked up sharply then grinned when he saw who had beckoned him. He sauntered over, leaving impatient and disgruntled bar patrons waiting.

  Josh leaned on the bar, and he and the bartender did some kind of handshake thing.

  “Josh, my man. What’s happening?”

  “You know.” Josh grinned, a lock of hair falling onto his forehead. “Same old.”

  The bartended laughed. “Playin’ hard and hardly working.”

  I thought I saw something flash through Josh’s eyes, and I could’ve sworn his grin faltered a bit. But then I blinked and he was still grinning and leaning on the bar, seeming not to notice the crowds of people pushing behind us, vying for the bartender’s attention. I must have imagined it.

  “This is my…” Josh looked down at me, and I pursed my lips. His grin widened. “Friend.”

  I let out a breath.

  The bartender stuffed a rag in his pocket, put both hands on the bar, and smiled at me. “In that case, what can I get you?”

  My mouth fell open. Gorgeous girls on the other side of the bar, with boobs up to their chins, couldn’t get served, but Josh got the white glove service. Forget him being the Moses of Thirsties. He might as well have been God in this crazy crowd.

  And I was his friend?

  I
blinked, realizing they were still waiting for me to answer. “Uh…I was just, I mean—”

  Josh pulled a twenty out of his pocket and laid it on the bar, ordering me some drink I’d never even heard of. “This round’s on me.”

  He leaned down to whisper in my ear, and his nearness sent heat blasting through my body. Not appropriate! He’s a client! I tried to inch away, but at the crowded bar, there was nowhere to go.

  He chuckled softly. “See you Monday morning, Ms. Welch.”

  Chapter Four

  Bri

  The syllabi for all of Josh’s classes were in a stack on my desk, neat and stapled. He was four minutes late.

  Big shock.

  Okay, so if I’d been feeling nicer when he came in last week, I would have assigned him an afternoon time slot. I could have done that—I had an opening that would fit into his schedule—but his behavior hadn’t exactly inspired any favors.

  So now here I was, waiting and wasting time.

  I hated wasting time.

  Josh finally stumbled in eleven minutes late. He was wearing sweatpants and a university hoodie, and his hair was disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed. Stubble graced his cheeks.

  Yet he still somehow managed to look good. When I rolled out of bed, I looked it—nappy hair, greasy skin, sleep crusted in my eyes. He looked like he belonged in a sexy ad for bedsheets. My irritation rose to a whole new level.

  He dropped into the empty chair in my cubicle, crossing his arms and saying nothing.

  “Good morning,” I said brightly. Annoyingly, fantastically brightly. I couldn’t help myself.

  His vacant stare told me the morning was anything but good. He yawned.

  Welcome to the real world, Mr. Davidson.

  And truly, it wasn’t being spiteful or vindictive to make him get up early. It was good for him. I swallowed back a snicker.

  “How are your classes going so far?” I asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Are you caught up on all your assignments?”

  “It’s only the second week,” he said drily.

  I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I have a quiz for you to take.” I pushed the paper across to him. He picked it up, took one look at it, and put it facedown on the desk.

  “I don’t think so.”

  I folded my hands. “You do realize I’m trying to help you, right?”

  “I’m not taking your stupid learning styles quiz.”

  “It’s not stupid. The information gleaned from that quiz gives me valuable data—”

  He laughed, cutting me off. “Does anyone actually believe that crap?”

  Crap? This coming from the guy who’d barely bothered to get dressed this morning?

  I gritted my teeth. “If I know your learning style, I can better help you study.”

  “I don’t need help,” he muttered.

  “You know, you keep saying that,” I snapped. “But if you were fine on your own, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  He sighed and put his head in his hands. “You’re right. I’m still not taking your stupid quiz, though.”

  Why would he? After all, that would make my life easier.

  I scowled, then I dipped my head, embarrassed. I didn’t know why I let Josh get under my skin. Yes, he was a little more difficult than most of the students I worked with, but that was good. If I was going to have a career in academic affairs, then I needed to be able to handle students like him.

  And looking at him sitting across from me with his head cradled in his hands, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.

  “Josh, I think we started off on the wrong foot. So why don’t we just chat for a few minutes? Try to get to know one another.”

  He leaned back in his chair and sighed, tufts of his hair sticking up in weird angles where his hands had been. “Okay, sure. Yeah. Fine.”

  I smiled, trying to make it appear natural. “So, where are you from?”

  “Isn’t that in my file?”

  My smile tightened. “Yes, but I’m trying to have a conversation with you, and that seemed like a safe place to start.”

  “Sorry, yeah. Fairfax County.”

  “Did you like it there?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay. Crowded.” He shifted in his chair. “Where are you from?”

  “Virginia Beach.”

  “Now, that sounds like a cool place to grow up.”

  “It was okay.”

  “Just okay? I’d be at the beach every day.”

  “I didn’t really go that often.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I just didn’t. Maybe I’m not much of a beach person.”

  “Huh.” His tone was disbelieving. Or maybe confused, like he couldn’t comprehend what I’d said. “So what did you do for fun?”

  I fidgeted with the button on my sleeve. “Normal stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “What all teenagers do! Hang out with friends, go to the movies, study, stuff like that.”

  “Study?” He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “That’s not fun. Do you like studying?”

  It didn’t matter whether or not I liked it. Some of us didn’t have the luxury of not studying. If I left things to chance like Josh obviously did, then I wouldn’t have graduated from high school.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Necessary.”

  “How about now? What do you do for fun now?”

  “I—” I stopped myself. When did this turn into his interrogation of me? We’d only been talking a few minutes, and he’d managed to take control of the conversation.

  I folded my hands on the desk. “Let’s talk about you. What do you like to do?”

  “The usual.”

  I ground my teeth. My dental hygienist was not going to be pleased at the state of my molars at my next appointment. “What’s usual?”

  “What every college student does.”

  A snippy retort was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. I couldn’t exactly fault him for giving vague answers when I’d just done the same.

  But this wasn’t about me. I wasn’t the one on academic probation.

  “Aside from that”—which I assumed meant partying and drinking—“any special interests?”

  “Not really.”

  “Nothing?”

  He shrugged.

  Okay, social hour was so over. I was getting nowhere with him.

  “All right then.” I shuffled the papers around on my desk. Since he refused to take my quiz, and the little “getting to know you” experiment had crashed and burned, I would just skip ahead. “Last week, you mentioned something about changing your major. While the main goal is to get you off academic probation, I’m also here to help you decide how to proceed in your academic career. Now I have this—”

  “Let me guess,” he interrupted. “Another quiz.”

  My hand paused in the file folder I had been reaching into. A flush spread over my cheeks. “The Myers-Briggs test is a valuable tool for determining your strengths and personality type. We can use it to help you pick—”

  “I’ll save us both some time. ENFP.”

  Extroversion. Intuition. Feeling. Perceiving. Based on what I knew about him, I probably could have guessed that.

  He leaned forward. “And let me guess yours. Definitely introverted.”

  I sat back in my chair, crossing my arms. I suddenly felt very exposed.

  “Sensing…yeah, definitely sensing. Thinking. And the last one?” He paused, his eyes roaming my face before his lips slowly stretched into a grin. “Judging.”

  I cleared my throat and picked up the papers to organize them, except they were already perfectly organized. So I settled for tapping them against the desk to make sure the edges were completely aligned.

  “It looks like we’re out of time.” I stood and held out my hand. “See you Thursday.”

  He rose slowly and looked down at my hand, as if he were contemplating kissing it again. I held my breath, but he simply
shook it and left the cubicle.

  When he was completely out of sight, I collapsed in my chair and let out a breath.

  He made me feel transparent. That was the only way I could describe it. It was unnerving how he could…diagnose me like that. He’d guessed my personality type correctly, and it hadn’t escaped my notice that mine was the exact opposite of his. Figures. Every interaction I’d had with Josh had left me feeling awkward, like I was back in seventh grade with a mouthful of braces, hiding behind a thick Harry Potter book in the school cafeteria.

  I smoothed the lapels of my suit jacket and buttoned it. That small act made me feel heaps better, my confidence returning.

  This was silly. Josh was just a slacker college guy. He had no bearing on my life. In a few months, he would be off my caseload and not my problem anymore.

  And the sooner, the better.

  …

  Josh

  I brushed the doughnut crumbs off my shirt. Those damn things were so fucking good. They almost made getting out of bed at an ungodly hour worth it.

  Almost, but not quite.

  A tapping on the window caught my attention. Sarah, Derek’s friend from Thirties, waved at me from the other side.

  I smiled and waved back, thinking she would continue on her way. Instead, she came inside.

  Derek, Sarah, Meredith, and I had partied late into the night on Saturday, ending up at the girls’ apartment. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew Sarah had pressed herself up against me in her kitchen, her hand reaching south of the border—south of my border, if you know what I’m saying.

  Derek seemed to have a thing for her, and I’m not into preying on my friends’ girls. Bros before hoes and all that. It didn’t matter that she and Derek weren’t together. He liked her, so that was enough to make her off-limits. So I’d let her down easy, which was a feat considering how drunk she was.

  We were all pretty wasted by the end of the night, so Derek and I crashed in their living room, even though Sarah would have preferred different sleeping arrangements. We left before the girls emerged from their rooms the next morning. I kinda wondered how much of the night they would remember.