Brief Encounters_The Encounters Series

by Scarlett Hopper

  “Jeez, thanks, Viv,” I say jokingly as she pulls Claudia and me through the crowd.

  “Oh, you know what I mean! It was just so bold! And oh, did the crowd go wild for that!”

  As we walk to where the guys are, I can’t help but mentally pat myself on the back. What I did tonight, I just did it, without thinking, without analyzing. It was in the moment, and it felt good to be goofy for once.

  “There she is! The kissing queen!” Will shouts as he spots us.

  I roll my eyes as the guys start cheering for me, and I stop mid-step when I spot Jess. The stupid grin on his face looks as if it could span an entire ocean.

  “Well, you sure showed me,” he says as he pulls me in for a big bear hug.

  “All’s fair in love and war.” I laugh into his ear. He places me back on the ground and then does an up-and-down glance at my outfit.

  “I’ve got to say, Els, most of the girls who rock miniskirts in here don’t pull them off nearly as nicely as you do. If you wanted my attention, you should know you already have it.”

  I give him a sly grin and do a little twirl. “What can I say? I aim to please.” Right after I say it, I realize how it might be too soon to joke about stuff like that, but from the look on Jess’s face, he seems to disagree. “But, in all seriousness, you were great tonight. I dare say I enjoyed myself.”

  “Wait, did Eleanor Ivy just admit to enjoying hockey? Holy crap, someone call a reporter. We need to document this,” Jess yells, and a few pairs of eyes give us questioning looks.

  “All right, don’t get ahead of yourself, mister.” I grin. “It’s going to take a lot more than one game to make me a fan.”

  Because of the guys’ victory, they decide to throw an impromptu party at their place. Due to the large number of people, I lose everyone right away and end up in a conversation with Jess’s roommate Nick—the only non-hockey player—and some dude named Randy.

  I can’t help but notice how Nick’s thin white T-shirt perfectly outlines his muscles and tattoos. One tattoo looks to be a Roman numeral on his inner arm. Another is a bird of some sort on his upper bicep, and there’s something written in cursive across his chest, but I can’t see it fully because of his top. Finally, I spot my absolute favorite tattoo out of them all: “Wino Forever.” I can’t help but laugh at his obvious homage to Johnny Depp’s tattoo of his ex-fiancée, Winona Ryder. Now that was a romance.

  Continuing on: his face has a little bit of stubble, but in a sexy “hey, I don’t need to shave” kind of way. He is, in fact, a sexy bartender but I don’t think he gets how sexy.

  “So, Eleanor Ivy,” Randy, who I forgot all about, says, testing my name on his tongue. “Interesting name. I can’t say I’ve heard Ivy as a last name before. Usually it’s more of a first name. But I like it on you. Eleanor Ivy suits you; it’s mysterious.”

  I get that a lot, people commenting on my name. I probably should have picked something more common like Johnson or Smith, but I needed to have a small part of my old life with me.

  Ivy was my middle name growing up, and I chose Eleanor for my mother. She loved the Beatles more than life and wanted to name me Eleanor, but my father had insisted I be called Amanda, after a great aunt I never even met.

  I never felt like Amanda suited my personality and neither did my mother, so she always called me Eleanor, which drove my father crazy. Once old enough, I permanently changed my full name. I like to tell myself that’s why my father never found me, but I know better than that. My father, Vinny Morello, could find Amelia Earhart if he wanted to.

  As Randy rants about what people name their children these days and Nick stays his usual silent self, I can’t help but think back to how my dad always reacted when my mother would call me Eleanor.

  “Eleanor Morello!” he shouts. “Who calls their child Eleanor Morello? Now Amanda, on the other hand, Amanda Morello is a strong name.” His thick Jersey accent echoes throughout our kitchen as Mom and I stifle giggles.

  “All right already!” Mom jokingly says while holding up her hands. “If it means that much to you, I’ll call her Amanda.” Mom winks at me when Dad’s back is turned, and we both know she’s just saying that to please my father. I’m an Eleanor and we all know it. Hell, even my friends have started calling me Ellie because they think it suits me better, but that’s something Dad doesn’t need to know.

  I shove a piece of bread into my mouth and can’t help but notice the warm feeling forming in my chest as I watch my parents. Never in my life have I seen two people so in love with one another as they are. Before I can get too sentimental, my phone buzzes. It’s Winona letting me know she’s waiting out front.

  “Winona is here, so I better be off.” I kiss my parents each on the cheek and walk out of my warm home, which, little do I know, will be feeling so empty so soon.

  “Don’t you agree, Eleanor?” Randy’s voice infiltrates my old memories, but not soon enough to erase the pain that has formed in my chest. I try not to think of my parents too much because thinking of them, even just the good memories, always reminds me of the fact that I’ll never have that again.

  Realizing that Randy is still expecting me to answer, I give him a nod and flash him a small smile. I go back to staring at the beer in my hands. God, it must look as if I’m fascinated by it at this point, but it’s better than everyone seeing the sadness that has crept into my eyes. Eleanor Ivy isn’t weak, and the last thing I need is people thinking I am.

  As nice as Randy is, I need to get away from this conversation. I excuse myself and go in search of Jess or Vivian.

  As I scan Jess’s living room for a familiar face, I come up short. Viv and Will disappeared to Will’s bedroom as soon as the party started, and I’m pretty sure Wren and Claudia didn’t even show up. I would go and talk to Wolf, but he has his tongue down some girl’s throat in the corner, not something I want to interrupt—or, as he would suggest, join in on.

  Feeling as if I need a minute to myself after my conversation with Randy, I contemplate going outside, but I use my better judgment because of the temperature.

  Instead, I decide to head up to Jess’s bedroom and take a few moments to collect myself. It isn’t that I’m going to cry or anything—lord knows I haven’t cried in years—but I just need some space.

  As I head up the staircase, I get a pretty good view of the party going on around me. It’s absolutely insane. Some people are blackout drunk, others are basically having sex against the walls, and I’m pretty sure a few of these guests are on serious hallucinogens. This is most definitely college.

  I walk down the upstairs hall quickly, hoping to have a minute alone in Jess’s room. I push open Jess’s bedroom door and automatically wish I had stayed downstairs. Tiffany, aka Tiff, is on top of a shirtless Jess, only in her bra and spray-on denim jeans. Both of them whip their heads toward the door as if to say, What the fuck? Nope, I spoke too soon. Tiff actually says it.

  “What the fuck!” Tiff yells as she looks at me. My face floods with heat, and I try to look anywhere but at them.

  “Shit! Sorry,” I say as I spin around to get the hell out of that room. In my attempt to bolt out of there, I smash into the doorframe and wince at the jolt of pain shooting up my shoulder.

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I walk down the long upstairs hallway, hoping the upstairs bathroom is vacant.

  Seriously, Eleanor! Did you really just walk in on Jess Parker getting lucky?

  As I mentally kick myself, I can’t help but notice the strange pain in my chest. I don’t have time to assess my emotional state, because Jess comes barreling out of his bedroom still without a shirt.

  He looks uneasy as he spots me about to enter the bathroom. Heat assaults me like a thousand tiny pinpricks because of what’s just happened.

  “Eleanor!” he shouts as he barrels toward me. “Sorry you had to see that shit. You know I—”

  “Jess!” I quickly cut him off. “You have absolutely nothing to feel bad about. It’s my faul
t. I don’t know why I thought your room would be vacant; I should have figured it out when I couldn’t find you, but I didn’t. It was my fault. You have every right to have fun with whomever you want.” My voice cracks as I say the last part, and I quickly look away from his burning gaze.

  Shit. What am I doing? I didn’t care about the girls Jess Parker hooked up with before, so why should I care now?

  Why does this bother me?

  I know for sure that he doesn’t feel that way about me. He basically jumped at the idea of us forgetting last night ever happened. He doesn’t feel the same way about me? Jesus, how do I feel about him?

  “Ellie.” Jess’s voice is wobbly and laced with concern as he reaches for my hand. I instantly pull away. Bad move. Jess looks as if I’ve slapped him, and I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get myself out of this situation.

  You have to do what you do best, Eleanor Ivy. Fake it.

  Plastering a smile onto my face, I look at Jess and ignore the hurt in his eyes.

  “Jess, seriously, I’m okay. I’m fine with hearing about the girls you get with, but seeing it is another thing. It just surprised me, just as I’m sure if you walked in on me and Dylan, you would be equally freaked.”

  At the mention of Dylan’s name, Jess tenses. I can tell he’s imagining the situation in reverse, and he doesn’t look too pleased. I really am saying all the wrong things tonight.

  “Now, don’t worry about me for a second. I’m going to go grab another beer, and who knows, maybe I’ll find a hottie for myself.”

  Now I’m just rambling, and I used the word “hottie,” the same word I laughed at Viv for using two months prior. “Hell, maybe I’ll see if Wolf is available,” I say with a false laugh, continuing to mindlessly babble.

  I know I shouldn’t have said the Wolf joke the moment it comes out of my mouth. Jess is just looking at me with a blank expression, and I have no clue what he’s thinking. Before I met Jess Parker, I could lie my way through a courtroom, but now, no such luck.

  “Okay, well, I’m going to go back downstairs. You probably don’t want to keep Tiff waiting.” I give a reassuring smile as I say this, hoping he won’t read too much into what happened.

  “Uh, yeah, I better go.” He doesn’t seem sure of what he’s saying, but I give him another reassuring smile so he knows I really am not mad.

  “Hey,” I say as I reach out for his arm. He still doesn’t have a shirt on, so my hand lands on his bare muscles. If Jess Parker is one thing, it’s fit as hell. A shiver goes down my spine and my body suddenly feels as if it’s on fire, but I ignore that.

  “We still on for tomorrow?” I ask hopefully.

  A sense of comfort seems to creep back into his expression, and for the first time tonight, he gives me a genuine smile and pulls me in for a hug. I swear there’s nothing better in this world than a hug from Jess Parker. His warm skin isn’t the best combination with my own; it feels as if gasoline and a match have had a party together.

  “We’re still on,” he whispers in my ear, then lets go of me before walking back toward his room.

  I’m left standing in the hallway, asking myself the same question that’s been on a loop in my head since I met Jess Parker.

  What the fuck are you doing, Eleanor Ivy?

  I decide to walk home and hopefully clear all the shit clouding my head. I have no idea what’s wrong with me. Why do I keep putting myself into these situations with Jess? I can’t even think straight anymore when I’m around him. And tonight, seeing him with her, it hurt. I know Jess and I are not and will never be together, but he’s so much better than that.

  Jesus Christ, what the fuck am I doing?

  I shouldn’t give two fucks about whom Jess hooks up with. I didn’t care before yesterday, so why do I care now?

  For the second time in two days, I’m walking home alone because I’ve put myself into an awkward situation. God, I need someone to talk to, but I don’t even know what I would say. Do I have feelings for Jess? Or is it just a bunch of built-up sexual frustration? I know he would go for the latter, so why am I even considering this?

  “Shit!” I gasp as my phone buzzes in my pocket, catching me off guard and scaring the hell out of me.

  It’s Viv, but I just don’t have the energy to talk to anyone. I shamefully press silent and put it back into my pocket. I continue to walk back to my apartment, but I can’t shake all the questions and thoughts racing through my head about the past few days. Just as I’m about to scream out of frustration in the middle of the street, a black SUV pulls up next to me.

  Oh shit, this is so how horror films start.

  As the SUV begins to roll down its window, I pick up my pace and refuse to look back. If I’m about to be abducted by some stranger, then I’m not going down without a fight.

  “Eleanor!” a voice calls out from the SUV.

  Huh? Who do I know that drives a black SUV?

  Reluctantly I turn around, figuring—well, at least hoping—that it isn’t some whack job who just happens to know my name.

  Staring at the SUV, I see a figure in the driver’s seat and squint, trying to make out who it could possibly be.

  Nope, it for sure isn’t a whack job.

  It’s Dylan Scott. How come every time I just need to be alone, the boy is always here?

  I slowly walk over to his car and look through the open window to greet him. Now, I’ve been in Dylan’s car before, and this sure as hell isn’t it.

  “Dylan!” I say with false enthusiasm. “Didn’t recognize your car. Don’t you usually drive a BMW?”

  “Got into a fender bender last week, so I’m using my older brother’s Lincoln for the time being. Need a ride, Ives?” he asks me with a small smile. I can’t tell if he means a ride back to his place or mine, but at this point I don’t even care. I’ll do anything to rid myself of the thoughts that currently plague my cluttered mind.

  I smile back at him and get into the warm SUV. It must be new because the tan interior has a new-car smell, and all the gadgets up front look pretty advanced.

  “So, why in the world are you walking around in the dark on a Saturday night? I figured you would be out with Vivian or someone.” I take it by someone he means Jess, but I don’t even have the energy to think about it at this point.

  I shrug. “I’m coming back from a party. Felt like walking, for a bit anyway.” I can’t even be bothered to ask him why he’s alone, and I think he senses my desire for silence.

  “Gotcha,” he mumbles as he takes a right to get to my place. Cambridge is so silent tonight it’s almost eerie. You’d think that everyone would be out on a Saturday in a college town, but the streets seem bare. Everyone is probably at the postgame party.

  “So, where exactly am I taking you, Eleanor?” Dylan asks casually, but I have a feeling I know exactly where he wants to take me.

  I have to pull myself out of this funk before tomorrow, so maybe this is just what I need. I’ve probably been overcomplicating what’s been going on with Jess, and in reality, I’m sure it’s just sexual frustration. You can fix that with anyone. Well, you can at least try. So why not Dylan? I push away all my hesitations and decide I might as well go for it.

  “Your place,” I say with a small smirk.

  I don’t even need a response from him. His huge grin is enough for me to know I have my answer.

  “Oh god, Ives,” Dylan huffs as he rolls off of me. “That was fucking incredible as always.” He pulls me close to him so that my back is nestled into his chest. He falls asleep almost instantly, but I have no such luck. It all just feels so off, so wrong. It has never felt like this with Dylan before. I mean, it’s never felt right, but it hasn’t felt wrong. I’ve always enjoyed myself when we hang out, but tonight I couldn’t even do that.

  I spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in Dylan’s bed, barely able to get a wink of sleep. It isn’t until he gets up at six a.m. to go for a run that I actually fall into a deep sleep.

 
; Trouble

  “Shit!” I jump awake, not sure what time it is, hoping it isn’t past twelve because Jess is picking me up at one to go to his mom’s house. I frantically search the room for my clothes. Thankfully, I find my top on the floor next to the bed and my skirt not far from it.

  “I thought I would make us some breakfast.” Dylan’s voice catches me off guard, and I jump off the bed. He’s standing in his doorway wearing nothing but sweatpants; his six-pack is on full display. Most women would love to stay for breakfast, but not this one.

  “Uh, sorry, no time for breakfast. I have to be home to meet someone,” I say, not even sure what time it is but not wanting to stay here a second longer.

  The smile falls off Dylan’s face, and he seems kind of annoyed.

  “Sorry, Dylan. Can I take a rain check?” I say with a small smile, not actually meaning it.

  The smile gradually climbs back onto his face, and he grabs his keys from the nightstand.

  “At least let me take you home,” he says while pulling a shirt over his head.

  Feeling as if I can’t refuse the guy again, I reluctantly accept.

  The car ride home from Dylan’s is pretty silent, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Personally, I hate awkward silences, so I turn on the radio and sit back.

  “Maps” by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs is on, and I can’t help but think of Jess. A small smile forms on my lips.

  “Oh god, I hate this song. So much whining,” Dylan says as he changes the station.

  I don’t really know what to say to this. I know it’s just a song and people have their opinions, but shit, this song means something to me and he hates it. It suddenly puts my whole Jess situation into perspective.

  Dylan pulls up to the curb of my apartment, and I jump out before he has the opportunity to kiss me goodbye.

  “Thanks so much for the lift. I’ll call you.” I give a quick wave and dash into the building. I hurry up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, so I can get ready quickly. It’s only twelve, so I still have time before Jess shows up.