The quilt wasn’t quite long enough. Pulling it up left my feet exposed, and within a few seconds, a sandpaper tongue licked the ticklish undersides of my feet.
Pandora’s message was loud and clear: I’m going to keep tormenting you until you feed me.
Dry-sobbing in frustration, I rolled onto my back and lifted my head to glare at the cat at the foot of the bed. “You can be a real pain, you know that?”
Pandora let out an indifferent meow and leapt to the floor. She padded towards the bathroom and turned back at the door to make sure I was following. Her tail flicked with impatience.
“Yeah, yeah, I got the message.” I sighed and forced myself into a sitting position, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
My head exploded. I clenched my eyes shut and clutched the sides of my head. When the worst of the pain passed, I pushed myself into an upright position and shuffled towards the bathroom. “No, Mom, I don’t care if you feel like you’ve been run over by a Mack truck, as long as I get my stinking breakfast,” I grumbled, stomping my feet. Not that I could blame Pandora for wanting to be fed. After all, what did cats know about weekends, or the aches and pains associated with hangovers?
I pulled out the bag of dry food from the cabinet under the sink and poured it into Pandora’s ceramic bowl. I filled the adjacent bowl with water. A tiny lapping sound filled the bathroom as I put the food away and opened the medicine cabinet. I grabbed my bottle of Ibuprofen and shook two of the pills into my palm, and then got two B-Complex Vitamins.
With droopy eyes, I left the room and shuffled my way into the kitchen. I passed Amery on the way, who lay in a tangled lump on the sofa. We had decided it would be more practical for her to stay the night than to have Chelsea drive her across town.
I filled a glass with tap water and swallowed the pills, praying they kicked in soon. Both my head and the knuckles on my right hand throbbed with every beat of my pulse.
I looked down at my slightly swollen knuckles and sighed, wishing the alcohol had wiped out my memories of the whole craptastic night. Unfortunately, my memories were crystal clear, and I was more than a little disgusted with myself.
Yeah, Graydon was the opportunist ass I’d pegged him as upon our first meeting, but I felt guilty about the way things went down. I’d been the one who went upstairs with him, the one who flirted with him and let him kiss me, all because I was a petty, sore loser and wanted to get back at Ian. Sure, Graydon had said some pretty shitty things, but he hadn’t been wrong about me being a tease. And now, because I couldn’t handle a little name calling, he had a busted nose and I had a red, puffy hand.
And then there was that whole thing with Ian afterwards…
I buried my face in my palms and shook my head, not wanting to examine it…not wanting to think about that almost-kiss…or that flash of desire I swear I saw in his eyes…and definitely not wanting to examine why him hooking up with Desiree afterwards got me so worked up.
Stop! Just stop. It was nothing.
I slapped my hands on the counter, then cried out when fresh agony washed over my hand.
I cringed when I heard Amery shift on the couch, having momentarily forgotten she was there. She went still again a second later.
Topping off my glass, I padded into the living room to retrieve my copy of Cosmo from the coffee table. It was one of the only magazines I read religiously as part of my research. Sure, the sex-tips were generally ridiculous and sometimes even impossible, but there was always a good amount of usable information. Plus, I used the more ridiculous content to fuel ideas for the “edutainment” aspect of the show.
I had just started reading a hilarious letter from a girl who had her vibrator whipped by airport security when Chelsea walked through the door.
“Morning,” she said, all brightness and smiles.
My finger flew to my lips and I pointed in the direction of the couch.
“She’s still asleep?” She shook her head and placed several grocery bags on the counter.
Closing the magazine, I crossed my legs in front of me and leaned down to pick up Pandora, who purred in contentment at my feet. I stroked the cat’s fur with a smile, then looked up at Chelsea. “How long have you been up?”
“Since seven.” Chelsea grinned and leaned closer. “Amery’s snoring woke me.”
We giggled. Though she was quiet now, Amery was known for sawing major logs in her sleep.
“Shh,” I said, holding my hand to my mouth, but that only intensified our laughter.
Amery’s indignant, sleep-chocked voice came from the couch. “I do not snore.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Amery, if you say so.”
Amery groaned and sat up, rubbing her hands over her face. “What time is it?”
Chelsea glanced at the microwave display. “A quarter to ten.”
Amery groaned again, and raked her hands through her disheveled hair. It was so unfair that she still managed to look gorgeous after a night of heavy drinking and sleep. “I feel like ass.”
“That’s bound to happen when you drink half your body mass in cheap beer.” Pandora’s teeth had sank into my thumb. “Ow!” I drew my hand back. “What was that for?” The cat jumped to the floor and wandered away with her tail straight in the air. What a grump! Bringing my finger thumb to my mouth, I got up to fetch Amery some water. “Want some Advil?”
Amery squinted at me through one eye. “Yeah. Please.”
I ducked into my bedroom and came back with the bottle. “Two or three?”
“How about a hundred?”
I shook three of the pills into Amery’s waiting hand and recapped the bottle.
“I brought you girls some breakfast,” Chelsea said. She picked up a paper bag with the Barner’s Bagels logo on it. “Bacon, egg, and cheese bagels?”
“Sounds wonderful,” I said, my stomach already rumbling at the cheesy-greasy smell. “Thank you.”
“Thanks, that’s really sweet, but just the thought of food makes me kinda queasy. Plus, I think those taquitos we ate on the way home gave me heartburn.” Amery rubbed her chest and let out a belch. “Eww.”
Chelsea frowned. “You should still eat. The grease will coat your stomach and help replace your depleted salt stores.”
“She has a point,” I told her, unwrapping a bagel and biting into it. Mmm, sweet ambrosia…
Amery waved her away.
“It’ll be in the refrigerator, if you want it.” Chelsea put the sandwich in the fridge and began unpacking her bags.
I took a seat on the free end of the couch. “Did you already eat?”
“Yeah. I had to get some flyers and posters printed at the print shop, so I dropped those off and ate while I was waiting.” She pulled out a flyer with her own smiling face, with the slogan: Cool as Ice and Twice as Nice – Vote Chelsea Prince for Winter Queen! “Parker thought it up. Isn’t it great?” she asked.
“It’s cute,” I said with a forced smile. Parker’s aspirations including running for office someday, and I couldn’t help thinking that he’d better hire someone else to write his campaign slogans.
Chelsea nodded and returned to her bags. “He and I are going to paper cars with them this afternoon. I don’t suppose you have any interest in helping?”
“Um…” I would do almost anything for Chelsea, but I tried to avoid Parker at all costs. Watching him order her around, and seeing her take it with a smile on her face, drove me insane. And I couldn’t even say anything about it. Chelsea would consider it an intrusion, rather than the actions of a caring friend, and it was in my best interest to keep things peaceful with her. I’d bitten my tongue so many times in their company in the past that I was sure it still had indentations. Avoidance just seemed better for all parties involved.
“We can’t,” Amery said, catching my eye. “We have a staff meeting at noon.”
“We do?” I whispered.
Amery nodded. “First Saturday of the month.”
“Oh, thank God.” I h
ated staff meetings, but it was better than spending my Saturday papering cars with Parker.
“I heard that,” Chelsea said.
***
I was lacing up my green Chuck Taylors when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door.
“Hey, Ivy, have you got a minute?” Chelsea asked, pushing open the door wide enough to peer in at me.
“Actually, I have ten.” I patted the space next to me. “What’s up?”
Chelsea entered the room, stepped over a pile of clothes and books, and made her way to the bed. I noted the disapproval in her eyes, but she wisely didn’t comment on the cluttered state of my room. When we moved in together a year and a half ago, right before the start of our sophomore year, it had been with the agreement that as long as I did my share of keeping our shared living quarters clean and organized, I was free to do whatever I wanted in my room.
She sat down beside me and her hands twisted in her lap. “I have a question…or more like a favor…or actually, a little bit of both.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I was wondering what you had planned for Friday evening?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of.” I adjusted my pant-legs over the shoes. “Why?”
Chelsea took in a deep breath. “Well, Parker and I have this friend who just transferred here this semester…” She rushed on when I began shaking my head. “He’s really nice, and smart, and he’s very good-looking. You know I would never ask, but you’re always saying you can’t meet any nice guys, and I think you would get along really well.”
“I appreciate the offer, Chels, but I have to pass. In fact, I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you, yet, but I met someone a few days ago. I’m kind of hoping he’d like to get together.”
“Oh,” Chelsea said with a tiny smile. “Good for you. Who is he?”
“Jayden Breckenridge.”
Chelsea’s brows rose. “The Police Chief’s son?”
I gaped at her, wondering how she could possibly know of his existence? She wasn’t even a local; not technically, at least. She’d been born in Ironwood and lived in town until she was four, when her parents decided to move to Fountain Hills. Her first time back in Ironwood was on the day she moved into her apartment freshman year. “You know him?”
“I did at one time. Our mothers were friends and used to do playgroups. They still talk from time-to-time. So, what’s he doing back in Ironwood?”
“He came to get to know his father better.”
Chelsea smiled. “Very cool. Wow, last I heard, he was playing football for USC. I wonder what happened.”
“I couldn’t tell you.” I didn’t even know he’d attended USC, or played football, for that matter.
“Well, good luck with that.” She walked to the door, and then turned back. “But, hey, if it doesn’t work out, would you do me a favor and keep our friend in mind? I think you two would really hit it off.”
I gave her a polite smile. “Sure thing.” As soon as Chelsea was gone, I rolled my eyes and glanced over at Pandora. She was curled up on my pillow, giving herself a bath. “A date with one of Parker’s friends? Maybe on the day you grow opposable thumbs.”
***
“Long time, no see.” I hip-checked Amery as we fell in step together outside the Manchester School of Communication. Manchester was a five-story redbrick building which housed the photography department, the student newspaper, the campus radio station, and roughly twenty classrooms.
“Yeah, it’s been ages.”
We ascended the tall staircase that lead to the double-door entrance. “How’d that shower treat you?”
“I feel semi-human again, so there’s a plus.”
We entered the building and waited for the elevator. Neither of us were in any state to climb five flights of stairs. “So, did you get in touch with Casey?”
“Oh, yeah,” Amery said with a little snort of laughter. “He called when I was getting out of the shower.”
“And?” I gave her an eager look. “What happened with the girl?”
“Nothing. She had a boyfriend.”
The elevator doors parted and we stepped inside. Punching the button that would take us to the fifth floor, I frowned at her. “But why were they talking for so long?”
“She and her boyfriend had a fight before the party, so Casey spent the entire night playing crying shoulder-slash-counselor.”
“Ah, that explains it.” Most guys would have high-tailed it out of there after discovering there was a boyfriend in the picture, but not Casey. He would have felt it was his duty to do everything in his power to give her advice and try and make her feel better. He was just that kind of person.
“He’s too nice for his own good,” Amery said.
“Would you prefer to have him any other way?”
Amery shook her head with an affectionate smile. “Not a bit.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “You know, it’s tragic how blind we can be to the really good guys because they don’t fit this ideal image of what we think we want, and when we do figure it out, it’s pretty much too late.”
The statement took me off guard. “What are you saying?”
Amery rolled her eyes. “I see the way you’re looking at me, and no, I’m not saying I want Casey. I’m just saying that, sometimes – occasionally – I regret dismissing him when we were younger.”
I was shocked. “You do?” Amery and Casey? That would be adorable!
Amery nodded. “And then I come to my senses and think that if I had gone out with him, I probably would have gotten annoyed by his sweetness, dumped him, and then we wouldn’t even be friends.”
I nudged her with my elbow. “Well, what about now?”
“Casey is one of my best friends; I wouldn’t even chance it at this point. Everyone knows that nothing ruins a friendship faster than trying to make it into something more.”
“I don’t know.” My mind turned back to the night before. While a little distance had me thinking that whole kiss thing was just a case of mixed signals – very mixed – I wondered what would have happened if Ian had really kissed me. Could one kiss have set into motion events that would end our friendship of fifteen years? Sadly, the answer was probably yes. We’d never be able to go back to the way things were before.
“Earth to Ivy.” My eyes snapped into focus as Amery’s hand waved before my face. She stood outside the elevator holding the door open for me. “You coming?”
We traveled the hallway and into the classroom where the station meetings were always held. The room was filled with our fellow staff-members, and it looked like we were one of the last to arrive. Spotting the top of Ian’s head bent over a table in the back of the room, we went to join him.
He looked up as we approached and I almost tripped.
He didn’t!
Ringing his eyes were heavy, smoky lines of eyeliner. Several coats of mascara thickened his lashes, giving them a very full look that would make almost any girl I knew jealous. Underneath all that black, his green eyes popped like gems.
My stomach flipped and I felt a shocking ripple of intense attraction hurtle though my body. It almost knocked the wind from my lungs.
He looks like a rock star…and a gorgeous one at that.
Ian smirked, a wicked light flaring in his eyes. “What do you think?” he asked. “I decided to go with the black, since the blue clashed with the outfit.” He plucked the collar of his gray Chambray shirt and shrugged. “Had to forego the lipstick though – oddly enough, my wardrobe is lacking in pink.”
I laughed, disturbed by how shaky and breathless it came out. Only Ian had enough self-confidence to do something like this in public, without worrying that it would put his hetero-status in question. And it worked for him. It really worked for him.
I toyed with the neckline of my shirt, fanning it out. “You know, I’m feelin’ that look on you.”
“Mmm, hmm,” Amery murmured behind me.
I glanced back with a flicker of irritation. I could only
imagine what Ian’s new look was going to do for Amery’s fantasy file.
Biting my lip, I took my seat beside Ian and looked at him again; really looked, taking in the bags beneath his eyes and his slightly rumpled hair. “Didn’t you sleep?”
Ian shrugged his shoulders. “A little.”
“What, did your bimbo keep you up all night?” I asked in a snide voice, still chafed that he had abandoned us for big hair and cleavage.
“A gentleman doesn’t disclose that information.”
“Oh, you’re a gentleman now? What, did you hold the cab door open for her before you pushed her in?”
He looked offended. “What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“A pig. Don’t you remember? We covered this the other night.”
He rolled his eyes. “Please.”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anything,” I said, opening my bag and pulling out a notebook. “Amery will be able to tell me all about it in a few days.” Not that I had any interest, whatsoever, in hearing about Ian’s conquest, but I couldn’t resist taunting him.
His gaze switched to Amery. “What’s that, now?”
Amery looked down and pulled at an invisible thread on her blue cashmere sweater. “I’m staying out of this one.”
Ian looked back to me for an explanation. I opened my mouth to fill him in, but stopped when Dr. Quinn strode into the room.
“Okay, ladies and gentleman, we’re going to get started in a second here,” he announced in his usual, no-nonsense tone. He thrust a handful of papers into Alyssa Kennedy’s face, a wiry girl who wore double pigtails that brushed her hips. She did a techno show after Truths on Thursday nights. “Pass these out, please,” he said.
As Alyssa passed out the agendas for that day’s meeting, Ian leaned closer to me. “What did you mean by that?”
“Desiree brags in the locker room at the Rec Center about everyone she sleeps with,” I said out of the corner of my mouth.
“Well, there’s nothing to brag about.” Ian opened his composition book. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
I picked up the agenda that had been placed on my table and glanced over. “You didn’t?”
“I decided I wasn’t interested.”
The Truths about Dating and Mating Page 11