Make It Count

by Megan Erickson

  She steeled herself against the rush of heat flooding her face, because it was really wrong to be a creeper about her boyfriend’s best friend.

  Didn’t mean she couldn’t look at his nice eyes. And big hands. And good profile with one of those Roman or Greek noses or whatever they were called. And thick dark hair she wanted to run her hands through, grip and pull. Just to see if it turned him on.

  Oh sugar-snacks, now she was having dirty thoughts about her boyfriend’s nerdy roommate.

  Clearly, her brain was deformed.

  She huffed in annoyance and backed away from him to resume her task, spreading four slices of bread on the counter and digging in the tub of peanut butter.

  A hand crept into view and grabbed a banana off the counter while she slathered peanut butter on two slices of bread and reached for the jelly.

  A throat cleared behind her. “If you put peanut butter on both sides of the bread, then the jelly doesn’t make it soggy.”

  He apparently didn’t even think she was capable of making a flipping peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

  She stuck a peanut-butter-covered finger in her mouth turned to face him. When his eyes tracked her finger and lingered on her lips, she felt as if she won this small battle of the sexes. Kat 2, Alec 0.

  She smirked. “I’m so glad you’re around to show me the error of my sandwich-making ways. What would I do without you, Alec?”

  He took a bite of banana, chewed and swallowed. “I guess you’d have a soggy sandwich.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned back to her task.

  He finished his banana and threw the peel in the trash.

  “Do you want me to make you one, too?” she asked.

  He paused with his hand on the door. “Sure. Thanks.”

  When he walked out of the kitchen, she pulled two more slices of bread and spread peanut butter on all the slices before squeezing on the jelly.

  She carried the finished sandwiches and cookies out to the guys, then sat down beside Max. The hockey game was still on and even though she didn’t give two flips about it, she pretended to care since Max did. That was pretty much Good Girlfriend 101.

  She took a bite of her sandwich and squinted at the TV. “So, what quarter is this? What teams are playing?”

  “Babe, this is hockey. There are no quarters. There are periods and—What the fuck, ref! That was tripping!—anyway, I think you ask me that question every game. Either remember or stop asking.” His focus returned to the game. “That should have been a damn penalty,” he muttered.

  Well then. Apparently she had to retake Good Girlfriend 101.

  She thought about telling him she didn’t remember because she really only half listened to his answer. She cared about hockey about as much as she cared about what an absolute risk was in statistics. But it wasn’t worth it, and she was hungry. Kat focused on her sandwich because the double-peanut-butter trick was pretty dang good . . .

  Alec cleared this throat and she looked up. “Kat, there are three twenty-minute periods in hockey. This is the first period. The Ducks are playing the Redhawks. Ducks are green jerseys; Redhawks are black. Ducks are winning.” His tone was light and almost cautious. Like he thought she was going to take off his head. It was one of the few times he had spoken to her and his attention—those intelligent eyes fixed on her—caused a rush of heat to flare in her face.

  “Thanks, Alec,” she mumbled, eyes down on her sandwich to hide the color in her cheeks.

  But she raised her head when her spine prickled, and they locked gazes for a moment. Kat was very aware of the air growing hot and heavy around her. Alec’s lips twitched slightly, and her eyes were drawn to their fullness.

  Max murmured at the TV, drawing her attention before a bow chicka-bow-wow soundtrack could play in her head.

  She was so screwed.

  Alec rose stiffly. He grabbed his book bag off the couch and said, “I have some studying to do. I’ll be in my room.”

  “Later.” Max waved him off, his attention unwavering from the game. Alec walked up the stairs, and Kat willed herself not to watch him. But her willpower was only so strong. At the top of the stairs, he turned around and immediately met her eyes.

  Shoot! She quickly whirled her head around and stared blindly at the TV.

  “Game’s getting good, huh, babe?” Max grabbed the rest of her abandoned sandwich.

  “Yep,” she muttered. “Great game.”

  Chapter Two

  ALEC’S FEET THUDDED on the rubber strip of the treadmill in an unsatisfying rhythm. He’d rather run outside, but the ground was coated in ice and he didn’t want to break his ankle. So he had to settle for staring at the concrete block wall of the campus gym. He’d been running for as long as he could remember, and if he went a couple of days without it, he was like a junkie—needing his fix.

  He’d already run several miles, so he slowed the machine and jogged easily for a few minutes to cool down. The invisible cloud of stress and worry and responsibility that always dogged his heels was gone. As long as he kept running, he could stay ahead of it, never getting caught in the downpour.

  Once he had his breath back, he stepped off the machine and wandered over to where Max was using the leg press.

  “Nice gams.” Alec propped his elbow on the top of the machine and wiped his brow.

  “This is not Mad Men. If you refer to my legs as gams ever again, I’ll take a crowbar to your kneecap.”

  Alec tsked. “I’m calling the cable company to complain about that Sopranos marathon.”

  Max lowered the bar and grinned at Alec. He kissed the scrunched fingers of one hand and then spread them wide. “Bada Bing! Gotta get in touch with my roots.”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “Dude, your ancestors are French Canadian.”

  Max harumphed and completed another leg press. “That’s what I get for asking for your help on my ninth-grade genealogy project.”

  “You had the best project in the class, and the teacher bought you a Big Mac. Don’t even whine.”

  Max didn’t answer, but the press of his lips showed he was holding back a smile.

  “I gotta go. Try not to get whacked while I’m gone.” Alec walked away as Max yelled. “They won’t, Vinnie. I’m a made man!”

  Alec laughed while he headed toward the showers. It was good to see Max acting normal—or as normal as Max could be. He’d seemed tense and stressed since the fall, and Alec didn’t know why. All he knew was that Max seemed to be taking it out on Kat, which set Alec’s teeth on edge. The slump of her shoulders when Max had snapped at her about the game . . .

  Alec shook his head, trying to forget the feel of those wide blue eyes on him. He stripped and showered, careful not to touch the walls because God knows what was crawling around on the cracked pink tile. He’d rather go home, but he had to grab lunch before his tutoring session. This was his first student of the semester, and he didn’t want to be late because he really needed the money.

  It was always about money.

  But it was a good job. His boss told him what subject and where to be and he showed up at the appointed time and got paid by the university. It wasn’t a bad gig and a lot of the time, he could get his own studying in. Fortunately, most of his tuition was covered. His rent had been cheaper before moving in with Max, but when his mom found out his landlord hadn’t fixed the heat for a month, she’d hounded him until he moved out. His last roommate was most likely a drug dealer, so it was for the best anyway.

  After his shower, he dressed quickly and dried off and arranged his hair into his usual pompadour. He’d first styled it that way when he dressed up as Danny Zuko from Grease for Halloween in ninth grade—his mom’s idea—and he’d received so much attention for it that he’d kept up the hairstyle. It also had earned him the nickname “Zuk.”

  He headed toward the Thrasher Union Building named after a previous university president. The TUB, as everyone called it, rose three stories, with a large bowed glass window front. Al
ec had always thought it was a good thing Maryland wasn’t in Tornado Alley, because those windows would have been blown out in a heartbeat. The TUB held the university bookstore, a cafeteria/dining area and coffee shop on the first floor. The second floor was full of conference rooms and study lounges, while the third floor held offices for campus groups such as the newspaper and television station.

  He didn’t have a meal plan anymore, since he lived off campus, so it was easier and cheaper to grab the à la carte food choices at the TUB. Once he had paid for his pre-made cheeseburger, chips and chocolate milk, he managed to find an empty table, despite it being Monday afternoon.

  After he finished eating, he sat and spun his chocolate milk bottle on the table, trying to concentrate on that rather than his best friend’s girlfriend.

  When he’d first met Kat, he’d chalked her up as another one of Max’s vapid flings. But now all he could feel was the warmth of her fingers on his arm, hear her low, sultry voice when she’d whispered rosebud. That saucy wink and sarcastic wit. That smooth, shiny caramel-colored skin she’d inherited from her Brazilian parents, he’d learned from Max.

  And Kat had this way about her, a semi-flighty quality, as if she constantly wobbled on the edge of a wave and could fall off at any moment. He felt the urge to reach out and steady her, just to keep her stable.

  Shit.

  A hand with black-painted fingernails reached down and plucked the bottle from his hands.

  “Hey—” he began and leaned his head back. Danica Owens stood above him, eyebrows raised, his milk bottle between a thumb and middle finger. “Oh, hey, Dan.”

  She tossed the bottle in the nearby recycling bin and sat down across from him, resting her heeled black boots on another chair. “Hey there, Stone.”

  He’d met Danica freshman year. She was one of the few females in his criminal justice major and got a lot of shit from ignorant guys. He’d been paired with her on a project freshman year, and her smarts had blown him away. They’d been friends and study partners since.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, her purple eyes narrowed. He swore she changed eye color as often as she changed clothes. Her appearance morphed every day. Today, her hair was black and straight, down to about mid-neck, with thick bangs. She kind of looked like a modern-day Cleopatra.

  A Cleopatra who slept with Mary Antony instead of Marc Antony.

  He shrugged. “Just tired.”

  Danica kept her eyes narrowed. She knew him too well to let him get off with a lame excuse. “Come on, what’s up? I mean, other than your normal grumpiness.”

  “I’m not grumpy,” he mumbled.

  Danica cocked her head, as if to say, Really?

  He tapped his fingers on the table. “Okay, so as long as I don’t actually act on it, it’s okay to . . . kinda sorta . . . covet thy roommate’s girlfriend, right?”

  Danica’s eyes widened into purple saucers. “Oh shit.”

  He groaned and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands up through his hair and down over his face. When he faced Danica again, a small smirk tugged at her lips. “This is about Kat, right?”

  Alec nodded miserably.

  “She’s really cute,” Danica nodded in approval. “Blue eyes, nice ass.”

  “What, did you check her out?”

  “Hey, I can look.” Danica shrugged, then leaned forward. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing wrong with covetous thoughts. You can’t help that.”

  “Max can be a real ass to her, too. He’s never been the most . . . uh . . . chivalrous, but for some reason, it bothers me when he’s a jerk to her.”

  Danica made a sour face. “I know he’s your best friend, but I don’t really like Max. You two are nothing alike.”

  Alex sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to defend Max from people who didn’t know him. Or the real him, hidden underneath the brash party guy. “We met in elementary school when both of us had cracked Transformers lunch boxes. And when every other kid waltzes into school in brand-new clothes and you are the two wearing high-water pants, hearing ‘where’s the flood?’ jokes, it’s easy to bond. We’ve always had each other’s backs.”

  He didn’t go into all the ways Max drew him out of his shell, never letting him retreat into the shy, nerdy kid he would have been without their friendship. It would reveal too much and no matter how close he was to Danica, she didn’t know his life story. And he didn’t want to tell it while the clatter of trays and chatter of students surrounded them in the TUB.

  Danica didn’t say anything for a minute. “Oh.”

  Alec tapped his fingers on the table, wishing he had his milk bottle back, when a familiar laugh rang across the room. The part of his brain telling him not to look didn’t reach his body in time, and he turned his head.

  Carrie Matthews walked toward him with a group of her friends. Her head was bent, dark brown curls bouncing around her face. When she looked up, their eyes locked. Her steps faltered a little, and she gave him a halfhearted wave. He didn’t have the energy to fake anything more than a half smile.

  The sight of Carrie was a reminder that Kat wasn’t his type.

  His type had been Carrie Matthews. She’d been his type since sophomore year of high school. She’d been his type as they’d applied to Bowler University together. She’d been his type right up until she confessed last summer she’d cheated on him.

  So . . . his type was a cheating high-school sweetheart.

  Awesome.

  He turned back to Danica, whose jaw was tight, glaring at Carrie.

  “Calm down, warrior princess,” Alec said.

  She whipped her head to face him, eyes still beaming like purple lasers. “Can I go call her a cheater and throw my soda on her?”

  Alec laughed. “No. It’s not worth it to get worked up. I don’t anymore.” When Alec saw Carrie now, he only felt a small twinge of sadness at the loss of what he had hoped to be their future. She’d been his first girlfriend, and she was the only girl he’d slept with. Like an idiot, he believed he’d marry her. Just like his parents, who’d fallen in love at eighteen and never fell out of it. But it hadn’t worked out that way. That was that. Time to move on.

  The normally harsh lines of Danica’s face softened. “I’m sorry.”

  He did not want to have a conversation about his pitiful love life. “Dan, seriously—”

  She dropped her feet from the chair and stomped them on the ground. “Okay, okay. Just trying to be . . . comforting or something.”

  He snorted. “How about we talk about your love life?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Ew. No. You always get this gleam in your eye. I’m not giving you fodder for your spank bank.”

  He threw back his head and burst out laughing.

  Danica grinned at him. “There’s that rare, deep Alec laughter I know and love.”

  “Hey, I laugh.”

  She shrugged. “Not enough.”

  “You bring it out in me, I guess.”

  Danica shruggd. “We’d be so good together. Why can’t you be a girl?”

  “Why can’t you like dick?”

  She made a retching sound as she rose from the table. He slung an arm around her shoulders as they headed out of the TUB.

  “We get our Mock Trial case soon,” Danica reminded him.

  Mock Trial was a self-explanatory class that prepared students for a live courtroom. Since Alec wanted to be a lawyer, he’d been looking forward to this class since he was a freshman.

  Although no one had told him they would have to sing a cappella on the first day of class. Professor Grim said they had to get over their fear of public speaking. Alec had sung “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” because it was the only song he could think of that he wouldn’t blank and forget the words. It sounded so awful, the professor cut him off and told him to take a seat, mentioning that he’d now “made everyone uncomfortable.” Oh well, he’d completed the assignment.

  Danica had sung “I Kissed a Girl” i
n perfect pitch, and Alec loved her for it.

  “Yeah, I wonder what our trial will be about.”

  “Hopefully it’s something cool.”

  “What do you consider cool?”

  “I dunno. I’ll know it when I hear it.”

  As they neared the door, Carrie stepped in front of them, eyeing Alec’s arm around Danica’s shoulders. “Hey.” Her hands tapped an irregular beat on her thigh. “You . . . um . . . have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure,” Danica said innocently. “What do you want to talk about?”

  Carrie’s eyes darted to her face, and Alec bit back a laugh. He bumped Danica with his hip and unwound his arm. “I’ll catch you later.”

  “But—”

  “Bye, Danica.”

  She shot him a purple-lasered glare and stomped out of the front doors of the TUB.

  Alec stepped off to the side and leaned against the wall, waiting for Carrie to speak. She followed him and stood a foot away, her eyes roaming everywhere but on his face.

  He checked his watch, just to be an asshole. “Did you want something?”

  “How are you?” she blurted quickly, finally looking at him.

  “Uh . . . good,” he said slowly.

  She jerked her head up and down. “Great, great.”

  Silence fell again.

  “Look, Carrie—”

  “I miss you.”

  Alec had spent almost five years as Carrie’s boyfriend, but now he couldn’t remember who that Alec Stone was. Eight months of heartbreak seemed like ten years.

  “I don’t . . . okay. I’m not sure what you want me to say here. I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but you broke up with me.”

  Carrie’s eyes widened, those big brown eyes he used to love, but now didn’t stir one ounce of interest. She stepped forward, her arms out, as if to touch him, and he stepped back. She stopped abruptly and dropped her hands, her lip quivering.

  “I didn’t break up with you. You broke up with me.” Her voice cracked, but the words overrode his sympathy.

  “No.” He ground his teeth. “In my mind, the day you cheated on me was the day you broke up with me. And that’s on you, Carrie. I’ll take responsibility for our relationship stalling out, but that’s it.”