“Well, well, well...” Glowing with delight at the development, she handed the device back to her friend, an I knew it expression alighting her face.
Rolling her eyes, Reagan took another sip from her margarita and slipped her phone back into her pocket. “See. It’s just Ian. He wants to get together tonight and catch up. That’s all.”
“Yes, I’m sure catching up is exactly what he had in mind.” She smirked, but the comment elicited absolutely no response from her friend. Petra snatched the margarita from Reagan’s hand to get her attention. “Tell me again why we’re going through all this when you have a perfectly hot guy dying to get with you?”
Reagan looked up just long enough to glare daggers at Petra before snatching her glass back. “We’re just friends. He’s not my type.”
“Right.” Petra agreed, nonchalantly nodding her head. “And I’m the Queen of Hearts.” Dancing her way into the kitchen, she retrieved the entire sugary, messy pitcher and brought it back into the living room with her, where she plopped it roughly to the floor. “Whatever,” she sighed heavily, “ignore him if you want. Believe in your mystery man Brett if you’d like. But just know, there’s probably an opportunity there that should be taken advantage of.” Without thinking, she placed it on top of one of the already completed checklists, which drew a sharp gasp from Reagan before she moved it to a safer location.
“Duly noted.” She scowled.
Seeming as though she hadn’t noticed what happened, Petra plucked another clean list from the pile and began scribbling a name at the top of the form.
“Who’s that one for?” Reagan stared at her quizzically. “I thought we went over everyone already.”
“Brett.” Petra shrugged. “Seems a shame to leave him out, seeing as how he inspired this whole drunken mess.” She indicated the papers scattered on the floor of Reagan’s bedroom.
“But we don’t know anything about him.”
“Sure we do.” Petra decided. “We know he’s hot, according to you. We know he’s faithful – or at least he wants to be.” Petra marked boxes as she spoke, then reconsidered. “Hmm, maybe you’re right. You could always try to find out more.”
“How?”
Petra grinned mischievously. It was that same twinkle that had caused Reagan so much concern at the restaurant. “You could follow him.”
“What?” Reagan tilted her head in one of her ‘be serious’ looks.
“Yeah, no this is actually good.” Her skin was practically glowing with the sudden onset of excitement. “Find out which classes he’s taking, where he lives and then just –“
“Have you completely lost your mind! You’re talking about stalking the man.”
“I prefer the term private investigation.” She corrected, her voice suddenly taking on a serious, business-like note.
“No.”
“Reagan.” Petra insisted.
“No.”
“Then what’s the point of all this then?” But when Reagan merely issued the look, Petra relented and moved on. “Fine.” She placed Brett’s checklist to the side and picked up another, on which she scribbled Ian’s name.
“What’s that?” Panic had clearly set in. “What are you doing?”
“Just a little insight for you since you won’t listen to reason. Remember, you asked for this.”
Reagan burst out laughing as she watched her moving over the boxes. “He’s just a friend. I don’t even think about him like that.”
“You’re such a liar!” Petra exclaimed, every ounce of her prim accent streaming through the words. “I saw how you were smiling when you got his text. And I’ve seen the way you look at him. He’s obviously into you. And he’s hot – by my standards, which are pretty high. So what’s the big freakin’ deal?”
Reagan opened her mouth to object, but came up short on words. In all honesty, the big deal was that she didn’t want to get her heart broken and lose her best friend all at the same time. And that was sure to happen if she even thought about pushing the boundaries with Ian. She just knew it; he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy, and she had no interested in trying to change that about him. She’d never been that kind of girl. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Petra, for multiple reasons, but most of all because she knew her friend was sure to have some solution to what she considered to be a substantial predicament. And she’d rather just leave things the way they were, it was safer that way.
“Let’s just leave it alone, okay?”
But Petra wasn’t listening any longer. “What time is it?” Her sudden urgency simultaneously broke Reagan from her thoughts and saved her from a regretful conversation.
“I don’t know. Late probably. Why?”
As Petra stood up, searching the room frantically for her misplaced keys, Reagan picked up the checklist she’d inadvertently left on the table. Glancing over it, she quickly noticed that the only quality not already marked off was “good kisser”, which neither of the girls had been daring enough to figure out yet – not even Petra. A hint of a smile traveled over her lips, as she considered the possibility, but she quickly reminded herself that some things were better left to the imagination. Hadn’t she learned that lesson before?
“I’ve got to go. I told Mark I’d meet up with him for dinner.”
“What happened to Derek?” Reagan teased as Petra guzzled a bottle of water before snatching her purse from the counter.
“Who?”
“From the restaurant.”
“Oh.” Petra rolled her eyes. “Too weird.”
“Wait, you can’t leave.” Reagan stood up on her own wavering legs before finding her balance. “You’re drunk.”
“No, you’re drunk.” Petra smiled. “I’m fine. Want to come with me?”
“No, I’m not going to third wheel your date. I’ll just stay in and make something here.”
Tucking all of her new checklists into a notebook, she dropped the notebook inside a bag and left it on the edge of the counter. Petra stopped her and put a hand to her forehead in a motherly gesture. “You? Cook? Are you feeling sick?”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Because you’re talking crazy, and I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”
Reagan let out a tired laugh. “I’m fine. It’s the tequila.” Reagan lifted her glass to cheers her own comment and took another long sip.
Petra shook her head and handed her friend a fresh water bottle. “Here, you might need this later.” Then reluctantly moved to open the front door.
But neither of the girls could’ve been more surprised to find that on the other side, standing on the landing, was Ian, who looked as though he’d just lifted his hand to knock. He was dressed casually, with a grey V-neck shirt that hung loosely around his solid chest and shoulders, dark jeans stretched tight across his backside just enough to emphasize the perfectly round, perfectly tight muscle that was beneath. His trademark, oh-so-charming smile had lit up his entire face, and the twinkle from his dimple worked it’s way up into eyes that flirted without him having to say a single word. And to make him even more enticing, as if that could possibly be managed, there was a pizza box balanced precariously in in left hand. “Special delivery.”
“I’ll say.” Petra gave him a thorough going over with her eyes that in no way tried to hide her appreciation of the gorgeous specimen standing in front of her. “Damn Ian, what’d you do over spring break? Something’s definitely different.”
Ian chuckled in response, the kind of modest laughter that was a half-hearted attempt to deflect the attention, and glanced down at the floor. Had it not been for the quick flush of red Reagan noted in his cheeks, it could’ve been argued his modesty was only an act, but she knew him better than that. He was about as real as they came. Then she caught from the corner of her eye the knowing look that Petra was sending her, and blushed a little herself. “Looks like I don’t have to worry about you after all.” Her friend announced with a wink.
Turning back to Ian, Petra p
at him solidly in the center of his shredded abs, her hand lingering just a little longer than necessary over the appealing ripples. “Take care of her for me.” Her plea was dramatic, but she quickly slipped behind Ian’s back and gave her friend an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Reagan couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.
“What do you mean?” At first, he was looking quizzically between the two girls. But one thorough, analyzing look at Reagan - who was giving him a pleasant, drunken smile and raising her glass to toast the newcomer - and he was beginning to understand exactly what Petra had implied. He hadn’t seen Reagan that hammered since her last break-up.
“You’ll see.” She called as she strode down the hallway. “Have fun!”
“Guess it’s just us then.” His shrug was casual enough, but had Reagan not been quite so absorbed in her own little drunken world, she might have noticed the quick flash of excitement that filled his face at the idea. “Dinner date?” He indicated the box with the question.
Unfortunately for her, she was completely absorbed in her own little drunken world, so the only thing she noticed was the pizza box practically hovering in the hall in front of her.
“You’re a god!” She exclaimed as she rushed to him, rose high on her toes and flung her arms around his neck in an uncharacteristically uninhibited moment. Tequila does that to a girl, she decided.
Her cheek brushed subtly against his, and as their bare skin touched, an electric current ran through her body, breaking through her intoxicated fog. For just a second, she was awake, and very much aware that she was settling against the warm nape of his neck in her embrace. Breathing deeply, she pulled in a scent that was distinctively not pizza – something spicy and sweet with just the right measure of woodsy thrown in. Whatever it was and wherever he’d found it, she praised the aftershave gods for creating it. It had every cell of her body – every single one – standing on alert, waiting in high anticipation.
“So I’ve been told.” The soft rumbling of the chuckle that followed was like a vibration running through his chest, and it was just enough to noticeably quicken her breath.
In a moment of clarity, Reagan vowed never to drink again and shook herself from the enchantment that was Ian, from the spell she was beginning to fall into. In an effort to free herself of the embrace she’d forced on him, she took a step back, but stumbled over the entanglement of her own feet. In a juggling act worthy of the stage, Ian managed to balance the pizza box while wrapping his arm tightly around her waist, and catching her weight before she fell to the ground. With a little squeeze, he drew her effortlessly back into his chest. His eyes lingered on hers, the intensity building with every second that passed, until she was forced to look up at him. And when she finally did, he held her gaze steady for far longer than either had intended.
But the moment had passed as quickly and unexpectedly as it had begun. As though they’d both suddenly become aware of themselves, they released each other simultaneously and took a determined step back, though it did little to resolve the initial awkwardness that they tried to cover behind forced smiles.
“Come in?” Reagan suggested, recognizing they’d been standing in the hallway for far too long. If they stayed that way much longer, their freshmen neighbors would begin to make comments.
“Where do you want this?” He was gesturing the pizza box as he stepped over the threshold.
“Anywhere!” She twirled her hand above her head, encompassing the entire living area as she disappeared behind the wall to retrieve some napkins. It was then she noticed with horror that the margarita mess was still lingering in the kitchen, as was the empty tequila bottle. Reagan wasn’t exactly an OCD neat freak, but she appreciated a tidy space when she was entertaining guests, and the kitchen was far from tidy as Ian came striding through. But there was no time to fix the situation.
“Whoa...I thought I smelled tequila.” His comment was more to himself than to Reagan as he set the box down and picked up the sticky pitcher to examine it. “Having a party?”
“Something like that.” She winked.
Where was all this flirtation coming from? She asked herself, her panic suddenly rising. It was as though she was having an out of body experience, and was watching someone else – an alter ego she didn’t even know she had - take over. She couldn’t do anything to jeopardize their friendship, and if this continued at the rate it was, despite her best intentions for it not to, Ian might start to get the wrong idea. As the thoughts and worries swirled around her head like the margaritas in the blender, her heart started to pound against her chest.
And then she glanced over at the empty tequila bottle.
And then she remembered the checklists she and Petra had made.
And then she could hear Petra’s voice echoing in her head... Just a little insight. And suddenly, she felt almost completely relieved.
Right! She was having an out of body experience. Petra had penetrated her thoughts with her devious subliminal messaging and that’s why she was acting so weird around Ian right now. Reagan blamed it all on Petra and her ridiculous attempt at matchmaking. And the tequila. She still blamed the tequila.
Gulping down a bottle of water, she regrouped her thoughts.
“You okay?” Ian was looking at her with concern etched into his brow.
“Better now.” She nodded, though it’d been a close call for a minute there. “I might be a tad bit drunky already.”
“You think?” And when he chuckled again, Reagan remembered this time how it had felt when the laughter moved through her body. She pressed her eyes closed, pushed it from her mind, then hit him playfully as she moved around in the kitchen. What she didn’t know as she occupied herself with her quick tasks, was that Ian had begun watching her, his fascination growing at this new side she was letting slip through. Despite himself, his eyes fell below her waist, lingering at her sensuously full hips as a hint of a smile wrapped its way around his lips. When he caught himself, he immediately turned around and tried to change the subject. “When were you going to tell me about Justin?”
Reagan spun quickly, nearly knocking over everything she’d placed on the counter in the process.
“You’ve heard already too?” She groaned in frustration as Ian looked back and nodded sympathetically. “Have you seen the pictures?” Without waiting for an answer, she whipped her phone out and stuck it in his face.
“Your battery’s dead.” He stated calmly.
“Great. Perfect.” She sulked. “Anyway, it’s a picture of them at his lake house. The very same lake house he was supposed to take me to!” Reagan slammed her phone down on the counter with considerable force, then, having realized what she’d done, checked to make sure she hadn’t cracked it in the process. She had. Of course. “And on top of all that, apparently I just cracked my phone, and my transmission in my car is broken. Just blew out for no apparent reason.”
“Ouch.” He was scrunching up his face at the thought.
“Yeah, that’s what my credit card said too.”
“You’re too good for him. I’ve been telling you that the whole time.”
“Yeah, but you always say that about the guys I date.”
Ian chuckled, it was a statement he couldn’t deny. “Well, it’s true. You always are.”
“I know.” Reagan’s voice was filled with reluctance. “I just feel so stupid I guess.”
He could see her lip threatening to tremble. “Come here.” He demanded just a split second before pulling her into a tight hug. His cologne was once again enveloping her still fuzzy head; and that’s when she realized she could’ve stayed like that in his embrace all night. It was the first time she’d felt content in a week.
“You’re not stupid.” He muttered low into her ear. “You’re intelligent and beautiful, and you’ll find a guy who treats you the way you deserve.”
“I think I know that too. Maybe.”
Laughing, Ian gently kissed the top of her head before pulling away. “Let’s eat, drunk one. Th
is is gonna get cold, and the game starts in five.”
Reagan nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Occupied solely with bringing her drink into the living room, Ian followed closely behind her - pizza box in hand - balancing the plates, napkins, water bottles and everything else they needed on the top of the box. Plopping onto the springy cushions of Petra’s expensive sofa, they settled in comfortably close to each other. Ian opened the box and handed the first slice to Reagan. It was warm, perfectly chewy and absolute heaven. The evening was already getting better.
“Hey Ian?” She said through bites of pizza, her full focus on the television in front of her.
“Yes?” His eyebrow raised high with the question, yet another charming move, Reagan thought herself to be immune to.
“Thanks for this.”
Then he smiled warmly, and kissed her in a friendly gesture on her cheek. “Any time beautiful.” Settling in for the night, his expression filled with contentment, he lifted the remote and flipped the channel.
CHAPTER SIX
Monday
Gearing up for the first day back to classes after a long spring break was never an easy task. But never had it been more difficult for Reagan than it was this time around. Her alarm went off promptly at eight, an ungodly hour for most college students, though she preferred to get her classes out of the way early and get on with her life. Yet this morning found her willing to change her philosophy. The strange sound coming from her phone – a cross between a foghorn and a strangled mechanical rooster – was barely recognizable through the dense throbbing that had taken over her head. She groaned at the smallest hint of light that slipped between the slits of her eyes, and instinctively gauged the distance from her bed to the toilet. Just in case.
Damn those margaritas.
As she fumbled with the sensitive touch screen, she willed her dry eyes to focus and clear, though all she really wanted to do was burry her head under her pillow and go back to sleep until the hangover had subsided. And though it was a tempting solution to a perceivable problem, she knew the real situation she was avoiding had nothing to do with the suffering she’d brought on through massive amounts of tequila, but more with the suffering her heart was feeling as all the memories and thoughts about her break up with Justin, her strange encounter with Brett and her pleasant evening with Ian came rushing back to her, punching her right in her already queasy gut.
The Boyfriend List Page 4