My dad’s life carried on while mine fell apart. And even though it’s been five years since she died, the ache still feels painfully tender. What being back here at Barnett means is that I no longer have an excuse not to visit them.
Shaking those thoughts away, I realize I’m still sprawled out on the carpeted floor. I blink my eyes a few times as a handsome face peers down at me before crinkling into a large friendly smile. But I don’t bother hoisting myself up just yet. Instead, I say in my most formal tone, “Mr. Sullivan, I presume.”
His grin intensifies, making him appear even more striking than I’d originally thought. Lexie had, quite naturally, gushed about how gorgeous her new guy was. And it’s not like I didn’t believe her, but… it’s quite obvious she wasn’t exaggerating.
Like at all.
Because Dylan Sullivan is seriously hot.
Golden blond hair, deep brown eyes, sculpted jaw, and athletic body.
And according to Lexie, he treats her like a total princess. Which is exactly how it should be. Lexie deserves someone who appreciates just how smart, loyal, and gorgeous she is. She’s a damn good friend and I’m lucky to have her in my life.
“The one and only,” he beams in response, throwing a flirty little wink in for good measure.
Oh, this guy is totally dangerous all right…
Could they be more perfectly suited to one another?
I absolutely love it.
“Umm, isn’t your father Dylan Sullivan the first?”
He shrugs his big broad shoulders at Lexie’s question. Self admittedly, I’m kind of a shoulder and arm girl myself. And Dylan Sullivan certainly has nicely chiseled ones.
“Shhh, you’re ruining the moment, babe.”
That being said, Dylan offers me a big hand, which I grab hold of, before being immediately hauled off the floor and set back onto my sandaled feet. I dust my backside off before my gaze slides back to Lexie. The unexpected glassy sheen of tears shining in her big brown eyes has my own widening in confusion.
“Lex, why are you-”
I don’t even get a chance to wrap my lips around the last word before she’s once again hurtling herself in my direction. Her arms slip quickly around my body before tugging me close.
“I missed you, Ivy-Girl,” she whispers fiercely against my ear, “so damn much! Fifteen months is a long time to stay away. Don’t ever leave me like that again.”
I’m not normally an emotional person, but her heartfelt words have me suddenly choking up. I squeeze her to me, feeling just as happy to be back here with her as she is to have me.
Pulling back to search my eyes, she quietly admits, “I was afraid you might decide to stay over there.”
That just goes to show you how well Lexie knows me. What I don’t mention is that I tried my damnedest to make that happen. To finish out college, find a permanent place to live, a dance gig, all so I could postpone coming home indefinitely. Because being back here, even though this is a new apartment, still reminds me that my mom is dead and my dad has moved on and I no longer have a home to return to.
Not one that feels like home used to feel.
“I’m just so glad you’re finally back.”
“Me, too,” I whisper as hot licks of emotion prick the back of my eyes. I hug her tightly one last time before finally releasing her.
Lexie and I have been best friends since fourth grade when her family moved in down the block from mine. We made it through middle and high school with our friendship intact and decided to apply at some of the same colleges so we could room together. Luckily Barnett was on both of our short lists. It has a highly regarded fashion design program for Lexie and a kick ass dance program for me.
There’s absolutely no one in this world I can count on like Lexie Abbott. I’m actually a little ashamed of myself for failing to remember that. I guess in trying to escape all the painful memories, I forgot about the good stuff too.
Lexie backs up until she’s standing directly in front of Dylan. As soon as she’s close enough, he wraps those huge arms around her before pulling her flush against the front of his body. Looking ridiculously contented, he settles his chin on top of her head like he’s done it a hundred times before.
Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I can’t help but feel thrilled that Lexie has finally found someone who appreciates the amazing woman she’s grown into.
Unwilling to get anymore sappy than I already have, I shake my head. “Do you two come with barf bags? Because I’ve only been here for about ten minutes and you’re already making me sick to my stomach.”
They both flash big white cheesy grins at me. I want to roll my eyes before sticking my finger down my throat like I’m going to puke. “I suppose you’re going to be practically living here with us?” Yep, I can already see how this is going to go. Dylan will be our unofficial apartment mascot.
With big innocent eyes, she says, “Didn’t I mention that Dylan lives in the apartment next to us with two guys from the football team?”
“Nope,” I shake my head, “you definitely did not mention that. I guess that makes things convenient.”
“Totally convenient,” Dylan adds with a sly grin aimed in my direction.
This time I actually do roll my eyes. “So which room is mine?”
In her exuberance, Lexie all but jumps out of Dylan’s arms before leading me down a short hallway. As I trail after her, I’m immediately reminded that she’s only wearing a thong.
I mean, sure, she has a great ass but still…
“Er, maybe you should put your shorts back on before you give me the grand tour.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dylan open his mouth. My narrowed gaze slices to his. “Don’t even say it,” I warn.
Biting her lip, Lexie stifles another laugh before dashing into her bedroom. In twenty seconds flat she rejoins us sporting tiny white shorts. Then she leads the way into a sunny little room before doing her best auto show model imitation as she gestures with wide sweeping movements to all the wonderful amenities my room has to offer.
She points towards the two large windows lining the wall. “Look at all the gorgeous sunlight that pours in!” Then she throws open the bi-fold closet doors. “And a humongous closet for all the clothes you brought back from Paris.” Her arms instantly drop to her sides as she quickly swivels towards me. Her auto show model imitation is totally forgotten in lieu of possible new stylish European clothing. “You did bring me back some clothes, right?”
For just a moment, my eyes travel around the room taking everything in. It’s not huge by any means but after living in Paris, it sure feels like it is. I’m used to about a third of the space. So this feels pretty damn luxurious. I can’t even imagine what I’m going to do with all this space to myself. Then my eyes fall to the double sized mattress shoved up against the far wall and my heart actually swells with unfettered joy.
Oh my god, it’s so big! I’ve been sleeping on a twin bed for the last fifteen months. I literally can’t wait to spread out on that huge mattress. Maybe roll around a bit. Make some snow angles… minus the snow. Already I’m looking forward to hitting the sheets tonight.
I just spent a little more than eight hours on a plane with a two hour layover in Amsterdam. And France is six hours ahead of us. So… I’d like nothing more than to fall into bed right now for a nice long nap.
When I don’t immediately respond, a thread of worry weaves its way through her voice. “Ivy?” Her concerned tone snaps me right out of my thoughts.
“Of course I did,” I finally say. “There’s a short, thigh length pleated skirt, two hand woven scarves, one cashmere sweater, a gorgeous black knit top and these creamy trouser pants that your ass will thank me for.”
If watching Lexie sprawled out on top of me, wearing nothing more than a lacy little thong and a tank top is Dylan’s idea of a wet dream, hearing about all the beautiful clothes I brought back from Paris is hers. We’re talking flushed cheeks and dilated ey
es here.
And yes… it’s entirely possible Lexie could have an embarrassing moment in her shorts. Although I hope not.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see them,” she squeals in delight, practically jumping up and down with unbridled enthusiasm.
Fashion design is Lexie’s life. She was a budding fashionista way back in middle school before I ever cared about what top went with what bottoms. Thank goodness for Lexie or I probably would have been much more of a walking fashion disaster than I was.
So of course I scraped together enough money and perused a few vintage boutiques to find unique pieces I knew she wouldn’t be able to get here in the States. I hope she loves them half as much as I think she will.
“What about some hot French lingerie?”
Since Dylan is standing directly behind Lexie, she doesn’t bother turning around to admonish him. She simply rams her elbow right into his gut. He grunts in response. If she hadn’t done it, I probably would have.
“Just stand there and look pretty,” she mutters under her breath.
My lips twitch at her words because he is definitely pretty.
Lexie gives me a little wink as if she can read my mind. “Don’t let his good looks fool you, he’s smart, too.”
Of course he is.
Because gorgeous and smart are exactly the kind of guys Lexie attracts. While I, on the other hand, had the sad misfortune to fall for a hot athletic jerk who assured me he was going to remain faithful to his study-abroad-girlfriend when in actuality, he started hooking up with other girls as soon as above-mentioned-girlfriend was out of the country.
I’ve had the last fourteen and a half months to get over Finn McKenzie. And I have. I am totally over him. Unfortunately he’s been calling and texting almost relentlessly for the last week, which means he’s been occupying my thoughts way more than I’d like.
Perhaps I should say he’s been trying to call and text. Because I haven’t bothered to pick up his calls or respond to his rather lengthy and apologetic text messages. I mean, can you seriously believe that? The guy has some nerve reaching out to me after what he did. Is he really so delusional as to think we’re just going to pick up where we left off now that I’m back at Barnett?
Apparently he is.
We’d been together for about six months before I left for Europe. And yes, I knew having a long distance relationship would be difficult but I was still willing to give it a shot. I’d really grown to like Finn. I literally hadn’t been gone more than two weeks when Lexie Skyped me about what Finn had been busy doing… which had been, in case you’re wondering, other girls.
And that, my friends, had been the end of that.
Lexie’s advice was to forget about my cheating asshole of an ex by hooking up with a bunch of hot French guys.
I hooked up with two semi-hot French dudes and buried myself in dance which was the reason I’d been accepted to study at the Conservatoire de Paris in the first place. After a few months, my heartache lessened. I stopped thinking about Finn, my dad, his new wife, their kids and I just concentrated on soaking up everything I possibly could.
It took some time to adjust but after about two months, I found myself with an amazing new life in a city renowned for its art and culture. There was no way I was going to allow anything to ruin this once in a lifetime opportunity. After about ten months, I stopped thinking about Lexie and coming back to Barnett University and started wondering if maybe I could live here for the rest of my life.
Or, at the very least, the next few years.
When I mentioned this possibility to my dad, he made it perfectly clear that he would not be footing the bill for a life in Paris and said, in no uncertain terms, he wanted me back at Barnett come August. Undeterred by his directive, or perhaps because of it, I’d searched for enough scholarship and grant money to pay for me to continue studying in Paris. Needless to say, I hadn’t been able to pull it off which is exactly why I was back at Barnett for my junior year.
“So, do you like it?”
My eyes swing back to Lexie who is standing there with all this hopeful expectation lighting up her face. A tiny smile tugs at the corners of my lips because it really is good to see her after all this time apart. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
Looking very much like the best friend I left behind fifteen months ago, a huge grin spills across her beautiful face right before she hurtles herself at me for a third time.
Sneak Peek
at
Stay
Chapter One
Shaking my head, I watch as my roommate, Brooklyn, busts out all her best moves on the makeshift dance floor. She’s the tall blonde dancing with her hands twisting in the air almost as if she’s doing a very sad Stevie Nicks impersonation.
I almost wince.
Yeah… it’s that bad.
If I had to guess, I would say that Brooklyn isn’t feeling the slightest bit of pain at the moment. I’m sure the liquid refreshment currently on tap is to be thanked for that. I’m hoping tomorrow will be a completely different story. She deserves the hangover-to-end-all-hangovers for dragging me to this God awful excuse to drink beer, get rowdy, and troll for a hook up or two.
My plan for the remainder of this evening consists of staying inconspicuously tucked away in the back corner and sipping my tepid diet soda because being a girl and walking around a drunken fraternity party is apparently an unofficial invitation to have your ass groped by some random dude. Or should I say random dudes because this has now happened twice. And a third time will very likely push me right over the edge of my douchebag tolerance limit for the evening.
The objective tonight is to keep an eye on Brooklyn and when the clock strikes twelve, drag her ass out of here… and I’m totally okay if it’s kicking and screaming. Impatiently I glance at my cell phone for probably the twentieth time in the last two hours.
It’s only eleven.
This has officially become painful.
I’m unfortunately snapped out of my dark thoughts on just how I will torture Brooklyn when a stray hand slides its way across my jean covered butt.
Seriously?
Even though I try to control it, my heartbeat hitches for just a moment before I spin around with tightened fists, ready to knock some unsuspecting jerk senseless.
“Excuse me,” I all but snarl through tightly clenched teeth, “get your damn hand off my ass before I break every single bone in your fingers!” And contrary to what you might think, it’s not an idle threat. I’ll do it. As I turn, my eyes slam into probably the widest, burliest chest I’ve ever had the sad misfortune to inspect this up close and personal.
A sigh of disgust leaves my downturned lips before I can rein it back in.
Perfect.
Very slowly I crane my neck up, up, up until I’m finally able to glare into his eyes. The freakishly large oaf now standing in front of me has the audacity to smile lazily, his gaze happily blurred. “Hey sexy, want to dance?”
The guy barely looks able to stand up straight let alone move his gargantuan body out on the dance floor. If he goes down, it’ll be like a massive tree falling. And I don’t even want to think about the huge mark he’ll inevitably leave on his potential dance victim.
My brows draw together in aggravation before I quickly shake my head. “No, I don’t want to dance. What I’d actually like is for you to remove your hand from my ass.”
Because, believe it or not, it’s still there.
He actually has the nerve to widen his grin before squeezing my butt cheek in that massive paw of his. My eyes flare wide with shock and I think steam pours out of my ears.
Oh hell no- that did not just happen.
Wiping the disgust from my face, I give him my best come hither smile. Just because I never use these kinds of tactics doesn’t mean I don’t know how. His already dilated eyes widen like he’s just hit the jackpot. Stepping a bit closer to the big knuckle dragging Neanderthal, I crook my finger kind of all sexy-like until he bends down. W
hen our lips are close enough to touch, I drag my mouth to his ear. Then, before I can utter a single word, I clamp my fingers around his balls (which are, in case you’re wondering, oversized just like the rest of him) in what I seriously hope is a death grip. Just for good measure, I give them a little twist. He hisses out a breath in response.
Now that I have his undivided attention, I growl, “If you don’t get your damn hand off my ass immediately, I will continue squeezing until something pops. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly,” he squeaks, sounding almost faint.
Not a second later, he releases my offended butt cheek.
And I, in return, release his still intact nuts. But not before I tighten my fingers one last time to drive home the gravity of the predicament this moron now finds himself in. For about ten seconds we glare at each other before he carefully backs away from me and my nut clenching fingers. As he does, his face gets all sad and mopey like I’ve done something wrong which is seriously laughable.
Frankly, I’m still pissed as hell.
“You’re not a very nice girl,” he mutters like a cross child before taking a huge gulp of what I assume to be beer from a big red plastic cup.
Rather unattractively I snort in response. “Nope. But hopefully you’ve learned a valuable lesson regarding the pitfalls of grabbing some unsuspecting girl’s ass.” Although, gaging from his unapologetic stance towards me, my guess is that he has not taken this lesson to heart. On second thought- “Just refrain from grabbing any girl’s ass. Contrary to what you apparently think- we don’t like it. At all.”
“Some girls do,” he pipes up still sporting an intense frowny face which is probably supposed to make me feel bad. It doesn’t.
Eyes narrowing, I shake my head. “No, we don’t. It’s degrading and just plain rude.”
He smirks before sneering, “No one’s ever complained before.”
Friend Zoned (Barnett Bulldogs #2) Page 32