by Sarra Cannon
I'm surprised at how easy things are between us. How fun he can be. I realize I've been judging him the same way everyone else does, never realizing how much more there is to him than just his name or his wealth. He makes me laugh, and he's incredibly patient. It took me a few tries to figure out the controls on the four-wheeler, but he never once got frustrated with me.
I haven't met a lot of guys I could be myself around like this.
“This was really fun,” I say when we pull up to the cabin. It's getting dark out, and I realize I don't want the day to end.
He wipes a chunk of mud off my cheek. “I've never brought a girl out here before,” he says. “Most of the girls I've dated would die if I asked them to get dirty like this.”
“I loved it,” I say. “It must be so awesome to be able to do whatever you want and not have to worry about whether or not you can afford it. You're so lucky.”
“It's no fun if you don't have someone to share it with,” he says. He has that look in his eye again, and I know he wants to kiss me.
“Look, Preston, about last night—”
“Don't worry about it,” he says. “I want to be with you on whatever terms you're comfortable with. I don't want you to feel rushed. I don't want you to have any regrets about us.”
“You're almost too good to be true, you know that?” I say. Is there no end to his patience?
“I've never met anyone like you, Jenna.” His hand caresses my cheek. “If we only have a few months together, I don't want to do anything to mess that up. If you don't want to have sex, I can live with that. I just want to be with you.”
“You mean that?”
“Every word,” he says. “Of course, if you change your mind, I'm open to the possibility.”
I smile and wrap my arms around him. I lay my head against his chest, not caring that he's covered head-to-toe in mud. “I'll keep that in mind,” I say. I look up at him and he kisses me softly.
Everything about him makes me want him more, but as we walk back to his car, I remind myself that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
Chapter Twenty-One
Preston
The next few weeks are some of the best of my entire life.
Dating Jenna is better than I ever imagined. When she's not working, we ride four-wheelers or play Frisbee on the beach. We play video games and watch movies at my apartment. I can't get enough of her.
But with every week that passes, I know we are that much closer to graduation. By mid-April, I can hardly imagine my life without her.
When we're not together, I'm counting the hours until I can see her again. She's started sleeping over at my place, and even though we have some hot make-out sessions, we never cross that line toward sex.
I'm trying to be patient, but as time passes, it's getting more difficult to hold back.
I'm afraid if I bring it up again, I'll push her away, so I pretend to be content with just kissing. But the truth is I want so much more. And I'm not just talking about sex.
It's frustratingly unfair that every girl I dated before Jenna was ready to start shopping for engagement rings, but the one girl I want more than anyone before her won't even let me call her my girlfriend.
I wave to her across the quad and she smiles.
“How was class?” I ask.
“Fabulously boring,” she says. “I'll be so glad when I'm done with school forever. Just a few more weeks.”
Her words fall heavy on my heart. How can she be so excited when it will mean the end of us? It's impossible to tell if she's falling for me, or if this is all just a passing flirtation for her.
“What are you still doing on campus?” she asks. “I thought your last class on Thursday ends at noon?”
“I was waiting for you,” I say. “Do you have to work tonight?”
“Nope,” she says, looping her arm in mine. “Did you want to do something?”
“Always,” I say with a smile. “What do you say to an evening on the yacht? I know you said you've been avoiding it, but I promise there will be no frat boys this time. Just you and me. We can rent a movie, shoot some pool, whatever.”
“Okay,” she says. “I'm in.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She steals my baseball cap and puts it on her head. “As long as I don't have to call you captain or anything while I'm on board.”
“Aww, man, that's what I was looking forward to the most,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and pushes my arm.
“I'm teasing,” I say. “I promise. Nothing weird. I can have the chef prepare something and have it ready for when we arrive.”
“No chef,” she says. “Let's order pizza. If I'm going to spend an evening on a fancy yacht, I need something to ground me in reality.”
“Deal,” I say.
**
It is the perfect night to be out under the stars. Jenna and I open a bottle of champagne and eat pizza on the main deck.
“I can't believe how huge this place is,” she says. “It's like a floating mansion.”
“I told you it was nice.”
“Nice is an understatement,” she says. “You have heated tile floors in the bathrooms.”
She notices things I've never given a second thought to. It makes me wonder how much I've taken for granted in my life.
“Do you ever sail places? Or does it mainly stay docked here?” she asks.
“My dad sometimes uses it for business trips, wining and dining clients,” I say. “When I was younger, we sailed down to the Florida Keys a lot. We went to the Virgin Islands a few times, but mostly Dad takes it out a few miles from shore to entertain.”
“If we could just sail away and go anywhere in the world right now, where would you want to go?” she asks.
“Alaska,” I say without hesitation. “It's one of the few places in the world I've never been, but always wanted to see.”
“Let's go,” she says, a smile playing on her lips.
“Right now?”
“Sure, why not?”
I shrug. “I could probably make arrangements, but it would take until tomorrow.”
She shakes her head. “You're serious, aren't you? Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“Sometimes it just amazes me how the two of us can come from such different worlds, yet get along so well,” she says. “I'm not even sure I would want a life like yours.”
“Ouch.”
“No, I don't mean to insult you, it's just, you have so many choices. If you can pick up and go anywhere at any time, how do you decide what to do next? It seems complicated.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way,” I say. “Maybe it will be different after I make it through school, but I never think of myself as having a lot of freedom. Mostly, I do what my parents expect of me. I don't know that I could ever just pack up and walk away from it like Penny did.”
“Is there nothing you've ever wanted so badly you were willing to disappoint them?”
You. The word is on my lips, but I don't say it. My mother has made several casual references to my growing relationship with Jenna, but I always tell her it's not serious. But for her, I would do anything.
I don't answer her and instead of talking for a while, we lean back against our blanket and stare up at the stars.
I slowly reach out and take her hand in mine.
“There's something I've been meaning to ask you,” I say. “Next weekend my parents are hosting a charity dinner at the country club. It's nothing big, just dinner and dancing. All the money raised goes to cancer research. I have to go, and it will be boring without you there.”
“I don't think that's such a good idea,” she says. “Charity dinners aren't really my thing.”
“You said yachts weren't really your thing, either, and look how much you're enjoying it.”
She laughs. “Yes, but it's just you and me here tonight. A charity dinner means a room full of rich people, including your parents, who ve
ry much don't like me,” she says. “That does not sound like my idea of a good time.”
I roll onto my side, propping my head up on my hand. “I promise we'll make it a good time.”
“So far, I think we've been doing a good job of keeping our time together separate from all that,” she says. “No pressure, remember?”
“I know, but I don't think it would be such a bad thing to be seen in public together every once in a while,” I say. “As a real couple.”
My stomach knots with nerves as I say it. I know this isn't what we agreed upon, but with only a month left before graduation, I want to see if we're still going to hold ourselves to these limitations.
“We're not a couple, Preston,” she says softly.
I run my hand along her cheek. “We spend all our time together. We kiss. We have fun. We do everything couples do,” I say. Almost everything. “We don't have to define this if you don't want to, but I don't think going out to a dinner together is going to change anything in any significant way.”
“Then why does it matter so much to you?”
I sigh and lean back against the blanket. “It doesn't,” I lie. “It's not a big deal, really.”
“Besides, I wouldn't have anything to wear to something like that,” she says. “Something tells me jeans and tank tops aren't permitted.”
I start to mention I would gladly buy her something to wear, but she distracts me by rolling onto her side and kissing my neck.
The conversation is lost to kisses after that, but like every night before this, the walls around her heart are still firmly in place.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jenna
A knock on the door pulls me from my sleep.
I must have fallen asleep in front of the TV the night before after work. A fast food bag with stale fries is still lying at my feet, a half-consumed coke beside it. The TV is blaring.
Damn, Jenna, get it together.
I swallow, my throat dry and aching, and walk over to the door. My entire body aches. Between working hard at the restaurant and playing hard with Preston, I'm sore in places I can't even name. Who the heck is here on a Saturday morning at ten? None of my friends would come around this early, after they knew I was working late last night, and Preston and I hadn't made any plans to see each other again until tomorrow.
I peer out the tiny peephole and see a delivery guy dressed in a brown suit. UPS. I know I didn't order anything. I never have any money. So what is this?
I pull open the door and he smiles in a very chipper morning-person kind of way. “Good morning. Miss Lewis?”
“That's me,” I say.
He shoves a large rectangular box at me and wishes me a good morning.
“You, too,” I grumble, kicking the door closed.
I walk into my living room and set the box on top of the bar. I plant my butt down on my one barstool and look at the address label, trying to remember what in the world I must have ordered.
The return address is a place called Tootsies in Atlanta. I have never in my life heard of this place, so I double check to make sure UPS delivered to the right address and this wasn't meant for one of my neighbors. But no, it's addressed to Jenna Lewis, with the correct address.
Something knots in my stomach.
I stand and go to the kitchen to make coffee. My eyes keep darting to the package, as if there might possibly be a bomb hiding inside. And maybe there is. I spend the entire morning avoiding the thing like the plague, terrified to open it. Terrified of what it might signify.
I take a shower, wrap one towel around my hair and another around my body. I lean against the edge of the door frame, staring coldly at the large box on my bar. Maybe it's just something I ordered and forgot. Something completely boring and of no significance, like air filters. But no matter how long I wrack my brain, I cannot remember a single thing I ordered, and definitely not from a place in Atlanta called Tootsies.
It has to be from Preston.
My brain registers this thought, dismisses it, and then, finally, accepts that there's no other explanation.
I scowl at the box and go back into the safety of my bedroom to dry my hair and get dressed for the day. I have to work in about an hour. I can simply leave the box unopened until tomorrow.
But as I go to leave, my stomach twists. I have to know what's in there.
I take my wine opener out of my work apron and run the small blade across the tape, slowly opening the big box. There is a black box inside with “Tootsies” written across the top in gold. I suck in a slow breath and pull the top off the second box. Black and white tissue paper conceals the present, but there is a note inside as well. With trembling hands, I open the note and read:
“I know you will be stunning in this dress. Please come with me. Yours - Preston.”
I feel sick. I set the note aside and pull the tissue paper from the box. Nestled in the center of the paper is a silky black dress. I pull it out and it slithers from the box like a poisonous snake. It's gorgeous, of course. Expensive and exquisitely made. I glance at the tag. There's no price listed, but I don't need to see the price to know it's ridiculous.
Memories of my childhood come rushing back. I'll never forget the first time my mother came home wearing an expensive pair of red high heels. She claimed to have found them at a thrift store, but I knew better. Thrift store shoes have scuffs on the bottom, but hers were brand new.
Why would Preston buy this for me?
I stuff the dress back into the box and slam the top back on it. Teeth clenched, I pull my cell phone from my back pocket and dial the restaurant.
“Maria, I'm sorry to do this to you, but I'm going to need a few minutes,” I say. “I can come in now if you really need me there to set up, but if you can give me an extra half hour or so, I'd appreciate the time.”
“Of course, what's up? Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, my jaw tight. “I just have to take care of something.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Preston
I am sitting on the couch playing the latest video game when someone knocks on the door. I pause the game and stand. It's been a boring Saturday morning, so I'm hoping it's one of my friends maybe coming to hang out, but when I open the door, I'm pleasantly surprised to see Jenna standing there. She's wearing her work uniform of plain black pants and a white button-down shirt, but even in these plain clothes, she takes my breath away.
“Couldn't wait until tomorrow?” I tease, leaning against the door.
She pushes past me, a black and gold box in her hands. “What the hell is this?” she asks, throwing the box on the table. She places her hands on her hips and turns to stare at me.
“Come on in,” I say, trying to hide a smile. Damn, she's even hot when she's angry. I close the door and walk over to the table. The box is from the boutique in Atlanta where Penny loves to shop. I called her stylist yesterday morning and asked her to overnight something nice for Jenna. Had she sent something horrible?
“I mean it,” Jenna says. “What were you thinking, sending me an expensive dress like this for an event I never even agreed to go to?”
I stare at the box, confused. “I was thinking you would wear it,” I say. “Is there something wrong with it? I can send it back and let you pick something out yourself, if you'd rather do that.”
“There's nothing wrong with the dress,” she says. “It's beautiful. Exactly what a girl should wear when she goes out with a guy like you, I'm sure. But it's not the style of the dress that's the problem, it's the fact that you felt the need to buy it for me. Do you have any idea how insulting this is?”
My stomach turns. Wow, she's really angry with me. “Insulting? For me to buy you a nice dress?” I shake my head. “How is that insulting?”
She lets out a huge sigh and places a hand on the box. “Where do I even begin? There's the implication that you felt the need to dress me,” she says. “Like I won't fit in unless I wear exactly the right thing.
Like nothing I own is good enough for a guy like you. And second, when a guy like you gives a girl like me something expensive I could never be able afford on my own, it feels like payment for services rendered, if you know what I mean. Or a bribe to get into my pants.”
I put my hands up. “Whoa, hold on a second. You got all that just from a gift?” I ask. “That's not at all what I meant when I sent this to you. Do you really think that's the kind of guy I am?”
Her shoulders fall slightly and she turns her eyes from me. “I don't know,” she says. “Maybe. That's the way it makes me feel, Preston. I already told you I wasn't sure I would feel comfortable at an event like that. Sending me a dress I could never afford in a million years just makes me feel cheap.”
“You said you didn't have anything to wear. I thought this would help make you feel more comfortable,” I say. “If I'd thought, even for a second, that this would upset you, I never would have sent it. It's really not a big deal. If you don't like it, we'll just send it back.”
“It's not about whether I like the dress, Preston. It's about you thinking I needed your help in the first place. I don't like the implications.”
“You are blowing this way out of proportion,” I say. I'm trying my best to wrap my brain around the real problem, but I honestly can't understand what has her so upset. “I was trying to do something nice for a girl I care about.”
“You were trying to make sure I look like everyone else there,” she says.
“No, I swear to you that was never even in my thoughts,” I say. I've never before had a girl complain about me spending money on her. In fact, they usually complained I didn't spend enough. What in the world did I do wrong? I can't shrug the feeling there's a lot more to this than she's letting on. But how do I get the truth out of her when she's so closed off? “If you don't want the dress, it's fine. I'm sorry. I was trying to be thoughtful.”
“What I don't want is for you to think you can buy my affections with fancy gifts,” she says. “Or dress me up like some little couture robot doll so that I fit in with your crowd, when it's clear that I don't belong there.”