This was all new territory for me. I felt like I was walking on ice, and each new step forward created new cracks, new complications that I had to navigate.
Her black eye was a complication that I’d never even considered. So my plans were shot to hell. I found I didn’t even care, though. I just wanted to see a smile on her face. I’d even take that irritated look she always gave me from across the desk, the one that meant she was half a second away from strangling me. I just didn’t ever again want to see the shattered, broken look I saw this morning.
I returned to the Academic Services building at two thirty. Bri hadn’t texted to tell me she was finishing early, but I wouldn’t put it past her to scurry away without telling me, either, so I waited on the bench in the hall outside the counseling office.
She emerged at 3:04, looking tired and ragged. The skin around her eye seemed more purple and yellow than it had this morning. She must have had a helluva lot of makeup on it or something.
“You ready?” I asked.
“For what?” She attempted a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“The long walk to my car,” I said. “Unlike you grad students, I have to park way out in the bumfuck undergrad lot.”
She nodded and fell into step beside me. “I actually take the bus most days. It’s easier.”
“I don’t have that option,” I said. “The bus doesn’t run out as far as the Beta Chi house, not even for me.” I waited a beat. “Surprising, I know.”
No reaction. Nothing. Not even a half-smile. Yeah, my lame joke wasn’t even funny, but still. Bri didn’t usually miss the opportunity to take me down a peg.
I fisted my hands, and my nostrils flared. I wanted to kill whoever did this to her, whoever knocked the fire out of her.
But I forced myself to calm down, because my anger wasn’t what she needed right now. If Bri was like almost every other woman I’d ever known, then I knew just what to do to cheer her up.
Once we were buckled in the car, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
Chapter Twelve
Bri
“Target?”
Josh pulled into a parking spot, then cut the engine. “Yeah.”
“Why are we at Target?” I asked. Don’t get me wrong—I liked Target just as much as the next girl, but it was the last place I expected Josh to take me.
I should be at home, getting caught up on the work I’d missed earlier in the week. But I didn’t want to be alone, either. My thoughts were running too wild, and I wasn’t ready to deal with them yet. So when Josh insisted he’d meet me after my day’s counseling sessions, I just went with it.
I realized with a pang that I hadn’t actually given Josh his session. Not good. Our relationship was getting way too complicated.
Josh locked his car doors with his remote as we walked toward the entrance. “I actually need your help with something.”
I eyed him suspiciously. Whenever I thought I was beginning to understand him, he always did or said something to throw me off.
I followed him to the toy section. He scanned the aisles, looking for something, until a display of Nerf guns distracted him.
He picked up a machine gun, and wow—these toys were hardcore. A lot more realistic looking than I remembered from my childhood. There were even some in pink. I’d missed out.
“Now this is a Nerf gun.” He put it up to his shoulder and looked through the viewfinder, a lock of hair falling over one eye. “Pew pew pew!”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you really just make a pew sound?”
And did I really just find it hot? Cute, sure. Adorable, definitely. But hot? Maybe more than my face had been damaged.
He lowered the gun with a sheepish grin, and I could imagine him as a little boy. He must have been a handful. He still was.
Josh put the gun back and picked up a mini basketball hoop that could be hung over a door. “This would be perfect for my room, don’t you think?”
“I haven’t seen your room,” I said, then blushed. Oh, geez. I had no business being in his room. That was why I hadn’t seen it. I hoped he didn’t take my comment as a suggestion. The left side of his mouth quirked up, and I blushed deeper.
Then he picked up another Nerf toy. “No way! A crossbow?”
I exhaled. He probably hadn’t even heard my comment, much less thought I’d meant anything by it. Paranoia had taken over my brain.
“And a tactical vest?” He looked way too happy about this.
“I wonder if it comes in your size,” I said drily. He was like a kid in a candy store—er, toy store. Boys and their toys. “This is fun and everything, but is this what you needed my help with?”
He reluctantly put down the toys and steered us to another aisle—the Barbie section.
I picked one up—Veterinarian Barbie. She came complete with a little furry dog and high heels. Pssh. Like any vet in her right mind would wear high heels. Not only were vets on their feet all day, but they also had to wrangle animals, some of them big and unwieldy. Even aside from her ridiculous proportions, this doll set unrealistic expectations for little girls.
My Feminist Theory professor from senior year would be proud of my on-the-fly analysis.
I put the doll back on the shelf. “Why are we here again?”
Josh rubbed the back of his neck. “I have to go to this birthday party. My sister’s turning five.”
I blinked. “You have a five-year-old sister?” With his self-indulgent behavior, I’d assumed he was a spoiled only child.
He nodded and picked up Malibu Skipper, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah. Well, half sister. My father is remarried. I don’t really know her that well, so I was hoping you could help me pick out a present.”
“Does she like Barbies?”
He shrugged, putting the box back on the shelf. “No clue. She was two when I left for college, and I try to spend as little time as possible at home during the summer. But all girls like Barbies, right?”
“I didn’t,” I said. Even as a child, I had realized what a sham the perfect plastic doll with her perfect life was. No Barbie dolls or Dreamhouse for me.
Josh wandered up the aisle, eyeing another display. “My Little Pony?” He looked to me for confirmation.
I raised my hands, palms up. “Does she like My Little Pony?”
“I don’t know. I thought you would know.”
I laughed. “Josh, all little girls are different. They don’t all like the same things.”
He held up a pink pony with flowing purple and yellow hair. “But is this a cool gift?”
“Yes,” I said with a straight face. “Totally cool.”
“Are you messing with me?”
“Yes!” I said. “It’s a pink pony with purple hair. I bet her name is Sparkle Toes or something like that. All kids’ toys are kind of silly, don’t you think?” said me to the guy who had just geeked out over a Nerf crossbow.
He looked at the My Little Pony for another moment, then put it back on the shelf. He moved down a few feet to a display of baby dolls. He stooped down to look at a large package that contained a baby doll and various accessories, including a stroller and a bassinet.
I snorted. “Is that a toy or a practice kit for a future Teen Mom?”
Josh stood and ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.
I sighed, smoothing my fingers over the fabric of a Disney Princess dress-up costume. I was projecting. I would have loved to have had any of these toys as a kid. Most of the foster homes I lived in had plenty of toys—most of them well-worn—but they weren’t mine. They belonged to the home, and then when I moved on, the toys stayed behind. I could count on one hand the number of toys that had actually belonged to me. That is, until Frank and Marie adopted me. But I was older by then, and past the age of playing with a lot of these things.
“Look,” I said. “It doesn’t really matter what you get. She’ll just be happy to get a present.”
&n
bsp; He didn’t look convinced.
“Wrap it in pretty paper and put a big bow on it. She’s going to rip the paper off, then throw it aside to open the next present. Just get a gift receipt and you’re all set.”
“I don’t know…” His expression was troubled, and I felt bad. He’d turned to me for help, and I was being bitchy. It wasn’t his fault—or his little sister’s—that I was in a bad mood.
I closed my eyes for a minute, and when I’d opened them again, I had a new attitude. “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him down the aisles until we reached the arts and crafts section. “This,” I said. “This is what I would have wanted as a little girl.”
There were marker sets, glitter glue, stickers, colored paper, and all sorts of craft kits. I pulled a jewelry making one off the shelf.
“Now this is cool. She can make a bracelet with her name on it and a necklace with her favorite colors.” I inspected the box more closely. “Wait, are her ears pieced?”
Josh shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it.
“I know—you have no clue.” I put the box back on the shelf and perused the others.
“How about this one?” Josh pointed to a box. “Wait, never mind. It says ages eight and up.”
“This one?” I gestured to a kit that included headbands in every color and embellishments to decorate them.
He clutched it in both hands. “That’s perfect. She has long hair.”
I didn’t point out to him that all girls can wear headbands, regardless of hair length.
“Now I just need a card and wrapping paper.”
“Next aisle,” I said.
He went straight for the Hallmark cards, the ones that cost five bucks a pop.
“Don’t bother.” I plucked a pink card from the bargain, two-for-a-dollar section. “Kids don’t read cards anyway.”
“Good point. Can five-year-olds even read?”
I had to think about that. “I don’t think so. She’s in what? Preschool?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“She can probably read her name and maybe a few other short words, but probably not much else.”
He pulled a roll of sparkly pink wrapping paper off the rack. “Okay.” He grinned, clutching all the pink items. “This is pretty awesome. Best big brother ever.” He jerked his thumb at his chest.
“Oh, yeah,” I agreed.
He had a bounce to his step as we walked to the checkout. He put everything on the belt and threw on a couple more items—gum, a candy bar, and a pack of cards. Impulsive, much?
He leaned against the counter while we waited. “Thanks for your help.”
“No problem,” I said.
Once back at the car, he threw the bags in the backseat. “I’m hungry. Do you want to get some dinner?”
I opened my mouth to say it was too early for dinner, but then I saw the clock on the car’s dash—after five.
I should go back to my apartment. But then what would I do? I should work on a paper and review several new counseling cases that had just landed on my desk. But what would I do? Probably stare at the walls and eat stale cereal. I hadn’t gone grocery shopping since I’d been back in my apartment.
So why not? I’d already stretched all the rules where Josh was concerned. Why not keep going?
“Sure,” I said.
His shoulders visibly relaxed. “Great,” he said.
Wait, was he nervous? Was he worried I’d say no?
Stupid. I’d already established I had sucky people reading skills—after all, Brett’s violent side had slipped under my radar—so it was best not to read anything into it. It was just a lucky coincidence that he’d needed help picking out a gift on a day when I could use a friend. Josh was smart enough to see that it killed two birds with one stone. He was a nice guy and nothing more.
Nice and fun and cute and sexy and—
Stop.
“Do you like Mexican?” he asked.
“I love it.”
Once at the restaurant, we were seated immediately. As the server placed a basket of chips and a cup of salsa on our table, I caught her staring at my face, then giving Josh a curious look.
Crap. I’d been so caught up in the toy section at Target that I’d completely forgotten about my eye. I hadn’t reapplied my makeup in hours. How horrible must it look by now?
And the look she gave Josh…did she think he was responsible?
As soon as the server left with our orders, I thought it best to address the elephant in the room. “About this morning—I feel like I should apologize.” That was a stupid thing to say. If I felt like I should apologize, then why didn’t I just apologize instead of announcing I felt like I should? It was like my brain was bruised instead of my face. I hadn’t been functioning at full capacity all week.
I cleared my throat. “I’m sor—”
“Don’t,” Josh said. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“It was very unprofessional, and you’ve been assigned to me so I can help you, and—”
“Seriously, don’t,” Josh said firmly. “It’s not like I listen to anything you say at our appointments, anyway.”
His tone was joking, but it was true. I hadn’t helped him at all. His grades so far this semester were great, and he’d done it all on his own. For some reason, that made me tear up. I turned my face away and blinked rapidly, trying to stop the flow of tears.
I suck at my job. He doesn’t even need me.
“Oh, no. No tears allowed.” His tone was gentle, but his words had the opposite effect of their intention. A sob escaped my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Josh didn’t respond and instead rose from his side of the booth to sit next to me. He put his arm around me, and that was it. I lost it.
I grabbed a napkin off the table and dabbed at my face. “I’m sorry.”
“You keep saying that, but you have nothing to be sorry for.”
That made me cry harder. I’d avoided Casey all week. She was the only one who I’d be forced to answer if she asked about what happened. Everyone else I could just brush off. But it was like a switch had been flipped inside me, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I need to tell someone.
“My ex-boyfriend hit me.”
Josh’s hand stilled on my shoulder, and his body next to me tensed up.
It was then that I realized how close we were. I could rest my head on his shoulder. I could literally cry on his shoulder. And I wanted to.
“Tell me more,” he said simply.
…
Josh
When she told me Brett was her first love, I was jealous.
When she told me she broke it off with him, I was elated.
When she told me he showed up at her apartment unexpectedly and hit her, I felt murderous.
Son of a mother-fucking bitch. Who did that dude think he was?
I kept my expression neutral, though. I deserved a fucking Oscar for that.
“Did you file charges?” I asked.
She frowned. “No. I mean, it would be my word against his.”
I looked down at her bruise. “No disrespect, Bri, but your eye speaks volumes. You could at least get a restraining order.”
She nibbled on a chip, her eyes downcast. “I’ll think about it.”
That means no. I was the master of “thinking about it.”
I held back my sigh.
“Anyway,” she said, “I got the locks changed, so he can’t come back.”
“Well, that’s good,” I said, but inside I was thinking yeah, he can’t get into your apartment. That doesn’t mean he can’t come back.
“I’m really sor—”
I shook her a little, just gently, though. “Bri, seriously. Stop apologizing. I knew you were upset this morning when I made plans with you. I knew what I was getting into.”
She battled with herself. “Thanks. I’ve been so low this week. I’m behind in all of my classwork and, as you know,
I canceled my appointments on Monday. I just need to snap out of it. It’s not like I’m the first woman this has ever happened to, right?”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal,” I said slowly. “Just because it’s happened to other women doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about it.”
I thought back to the Take Back the Night rally I had to participate in last semester as part of my women’s studies class. Cori and I had carried signs and marched across campus, but I hadn’t truly understood. Yeah, I’d read the pamphlet with the statistics in it, but those were just numbers.
Bri was flesh and blood, sitting right here with me. My shirt was still wet from her tears.
I got it now.
Her lip quivered a bit. “I can’t relax in my apartment. It’s still too fresh. And I didn’t want to go study at the library, because, well…” She pointed at her face. “Plus I’ve never liked studying there.”
“You need to get away for a while. For the weekend or something,” I said. “Get some distance.”
“I wish,” she said with a smile. “But I have too much work to catch up on. You wouldn’t believe how much reading I have to do. I’d go visit my parents, but I can’t afford to spend that much time driving. That’s twelve hours I could be studying.”
“Come with me,” I said.
“What?”
“This weekend,” I said slowly, the details still forming in my mind. “Come home with me this weekend. For Mackenzie’s party.”
“Um, no.” She scooted away from me, then stood and sat on the other side of the booth. Not exactly the reaction I was looking for.
“That’s crazy,” she said, and I could see the walls going up again.
“It’s not,” I said quickly, before her walls could get any higher. “Do you get carsick?”
“Huh?”
“Carsick,” I repeated. “Do you get carsick?”
She shook her head.
“Then that’s perfect. You can read in the car on the drive there and back.” This was crazy. The more I thought about it, the crazier it seemed.
Did I really just invite Bri to come stay the weekend at my parents’ house? That’ll certainly convince her to date me. I could hear my father now.
Wanting More (Love on Campus #2) Page 12