When I’m done, I grab a towel to wipe my mouth, and as I toss it into the hamper, I decide it’s best to shower and get ready for my day before I think anymore about Jake. It’s obvious we had a great time last night—despite his unwillingness at first—and as much as I’d like to do it again, in the meantime, I’d rather wash the smell of our last encounter off.
About thirty minutes later, I’m dressed and ready to go in a simple, yet appealing, blue blouse with some white jeans and cute flats. My hair’s in a neat bun and still damp so it can finish drying without the tips wetting my shoulders.
It’s after I slip on my backpack, and grab my keys, that I get a text. Megan wants to meet for breakfast. That’s cool with me. I know she wants to hear all about last night.
Then I get another text. It’s the typical college students’ text from their parents—the whole ‘just checking up on you’ kind. This time, it’s my mom checking up on me. I type a quick reply, knowing if I ignore my mom, she’d hound me later. My dad’s not as bad, but my mom is.
I also send a quick text to Jake and let him know we should talk. Although I’m not sure how to discreetly suggest we continue hooking up—and it’s probably best to wait a few days, so I don’t look overly thirsty—I do want to bring the conversation to the table. “Like he’d say no,” I tell myself for the second time.
In no time, Jake replies, almost as if he’s been waiting for me to reach out to him, and the thought of it makes me grin.
I must’ve been better than I thought. He definitely wants me. It’s only natural, after all. I am attractive . . .
We decide to meet up later at the campus quad. But for now, I’m off to see Megan.
Chapter 9
“I can’t believe you got him,” says Megan over breakfast at one of the campus diners.
“Yep,” I smile. “I told you. I get what I want.”
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Yeah sure. We’re meeting at the quad later.”
Megan looks at me suspiciously. “So you’re just gonna use him, huh?”
“How is it using him? If you were to ask him if he enjoyed himself, do you know what he would tell you?”
“What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’? He would tell you he had a damn good time. Besides a cute guy like that has no business being stuck in some office. He should be getting laid a lot more than he does.”
“How do you know how much he gets laid?”
“Oh, I just have a feeling.”
* * *
So now I’m off to the quad to meet Jake and to arrange a “friends with benefits” relationship. That way I can focus on school. Call me slutty, but hey, a girl’s got needs.
The entire way there, I’m feeling more confident than usual, not that I’m ever truly too worried about how I look. Today, though, I’ve got an extra pep in my stride.
I get to the quad and sit on a bench. I’m a little early, but not too much. I text Jake that I’m here, and I tell him to text me back so that I can direct him to exactly where I am.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it. It’s not from Jake; it’s from Megan, and she wants to know where I am. Why does she want to know where I am? She knows where I was headed after breakfast.
I text her back: at the quad with Jake.
Megan texts me again, and this time, she’s added an emoticon, the unsure yellow one with the sideways lip. Her text reads: you sure Jake’s there?
Well, he isn’t technically here yet, but he will be. Arching my brow, I nod, although I know Megan isn’t there to see it. Why wouldn’t he be in the area? Jake is not about to stand me up, not after last night. The response I send her is lengthy, explaining that he agreed to meet with me here, and he’s on his way soon.
I think Megan’s been staring at her phone awaiting my reply because she immediately sends one back. She tells me that Jake isn’t on his way to the quad and that he’s headed to another area on campus.
What the fuck? I call her, and she answers on the first ring.
“Chelsea . . .”
I cut her off. “Which part of the campus?” I get straight to the point. He better not be ditching me.
“Toward the English department . . .”
“Megan, he works in the English department, remember? He’ll be here soon.”
“Okay, I just thought you should know, that’s all.”
“It’s cool. Thanks.” I hear one of her friends asking her to hurry so they’re not late, and she shushes them. “Okay, I’ve got to go, but meet you at the apartment later?”
I nod. “Yeah.” We hang up, and I text Jake again. Thirty minutes pass, and he still hasn’t replied or shown up. I’m pissed.
I want to head over to the English department and ask him why he’s suddenly avoiding me, but it’s not the wisest thing to do. Professor Thomas is probably there, and I don’t want to make a scene, not before I turn in the paper and, hopefully, get a better grade. All I want is my grade to be fixed . . . and to know why Jake is ignoring me.
It’s not that I care about the situation in a whole ‘I think I like him’ kind of way, but more so an ‘I know I have everything to offer compared to anyone you’ve ever been with’ type of thing. Why would any man evade me? The longer I sit here, the longer I try to think of a reason. And you know what? I can’t think of any—not one. I’m smart, confident, ambitious, and above all, I’m gorgeous—eat your heart out gorgeous . . . Okay, I can see why that can be intimidating, but that can’t be used as an excuse-not after Jake’s already slept with me.
But maybe he’s nervous. Maybe he’s just so scared that I don’t want to have sex with him again that he’s too afraid to confront me about it. Or maybe last night was so good; he wants a relationship . . . I wrinkle my nose. “Not happening . . .”
I sit here for at least ten more minutes before I decide to leave and head back to my apartment. Inside my apartment, I know that Megan’s not here, and I’m frustrated because I need someone to vent to. Besides, she’s the only one who fully knows what’s going on with Jake and me. I don’t want her advice, though; I just want her to listen. She’s good at that.
To keep my mind off Jake, I decide to tweak the finishing touches on my paper, something I had planned to do today. Three hours later, Megan walks in and shuts the door behind her.
“Did he show up?” she asks, placing her keys on the coffee table.
I shrug, and I look down at my paper. “No.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I look up at her. “And he still hasn’t responded.”
“Well . . .” She sounds as baffled as she looks. “Did you over text him or something?”
I grit my teeth, feeling more than a little offended. “Megan, I’m not needy. I only sent him two when I was in the quad.”
“ . . . Did you try calling?”
Not looking up, I say, “Did you miss the part earlier where I said I’m not needy?” Megan sits next to me. She’s quiet, too quiet, and it makes me nervous. My eyes slowly drift to hers to see that she’s giving me this serious stare like something’s on the tip of her tongue but she won’t voice it just yet.
I roll my eyes. “Just say it.”
She feigns innocence by touching her chest and raising her brows. “What do you mean, Chelsea?”
“You’re trying to say something, but you don’t know how I’ll take it. Just hit me with it, Meg.”
Megan nods and takes a deep breath. “You did do . . . all right last night . . . didn’t you . . .?”
I sit up straight. “Oh my God; I know how to have sex!” My voice is high and surprised.
She’s giggling now and touching my shoulder. “You know what satisfies you, but do you know what your man wants?”
I take the couch pillow and smack her with it. “Yes!”
She’s laughing uncontrollably now and uses her arms as shields against my attacks. “O-okay!” she yells between giggles. I give her a moment to let her amusement die
down as I hug the pillow. She sits up and wipes tears from her eyes. “I was just checking, you know?” she says. “You can never be too sure these days. Talking about it with your partner always helps the situation.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You sound like a love guru.” It’s probably because of that marriage and family course she’s taking on campus. I can tell it’s starting to rub off on her. The poor girl doesn’t even realize it.
“You should call him in a few days,” she suggests.
I cross my arms as I lean back on the couch. “Or he should call me.” I don’t chase men. It doesn’t suit me.
Megan nods her head in agreement. “I wonder what his excuse is.”
“It could be work,” I say, just to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Or another girl,” Megan says, to which I cut my eyes at her. When she notices, she gives me an apologetic gaze. “It’s only a guess. Why do you care so much anyways? It’s not like you really like him . . . do you?”
My eyes widen. “Don’t joke like that.”
“I’m not joking. These things happen all the time.”
I give her a pointed look. “Not with me. Besides, even if I do care, it’s not for reasons that you think.”
Megan props her arm on the back of the couch, resting her cheek on her hand. “Explain.”
“No one likes being stood up,” I say, and grudgingly at that.
“You’re right . . . but most people know when they’re not wanted. You might start looking desperate if he keeps this up.”
I narrow my eyes at her as she gives me a pitying glance. “Jake is going to see me again. You got me?”
Megan’s perfectly shaped brow arches. “You’re sure about this?”
“As positive as I am about law school.” I grab my phone when it buzzes.
“Is that him?” Megan asks.
“No, just Sally. She wants to go to a party.”
“Then you should go. You need it. And hey, you might meet someone else who can give you what you want.”
I look at her. “You’re making me sound like a sex addict.”
She laughs again. “You’re in college. Hooking up is kind of the norm in your college years.”
“Oh really?” I grin. “You’re an expert on that?”
“Just because I haven’t screwed as many guys as you have doesn’t mean I have a problem with it.”
“Yeah, I know.” I stand. “Help me get dressed.” I head to my bedroom. “And you’re going with me.”
Megan hurries behind. “Damn right I am!”
Chapter 10
The next morning, I’m thankful no one else is lingering in my bed. The hangover I’m having is worse than I imagined, though. My eyes feel puffy, and my head is spinning. As I stand and head to the kitchen, I feel like the floor is the perfect place to spend the rest of my life, and I begin preparing toast in hopes of alleviating some of this sorcery.
Megan’s already up and leaning over the counter, eating her own toast. She’s in a white tank and some pink boy shorts, similar to what I’m wearing. My toast pops up. I grab it and practically shove it into my mouth.
“Get any action last night?” she asks.
I take a bite of my bread. “Don’t know.” It sounds more like, “Unt owe,” because my mouth is full.
“Me, either,” she replies. “We drank way too much.”
“We had fun, though . . . from what I remember.”
“I remember you said something about Jake not answering your calls.”
Pausing mid-bite, I turn to her. “I called Jake?”
She nods slowly. “I think, or maybe he called you. I’m not entirely sure what you were on about.”
Sighing, I stuff the remaining bread in my mouth and head out of the kitchen to go and retrieve my cell phone. I find it in my room, and on the floor, and I scroll through my calls list. Jake hadn’t called me at all, but I called him six times. Well . . . you just passed the desperate mark six calls ago. Thankfully, I don’t bother calling Jake again after that.
* * *
A day later, I returned to Thomas’ office, turned in my revised English paper, and dashed out of the department. Yeah, Jake was in his office, but I didn’t look at him. I had wanted to. Don’t get me wrong. But I didn’t. I just got the hell out of there. Jake didn’t try to stop me or say anything to me, and I’m thankful for that. He’s done with me, and that’s good because I’m done with him too. In fact, if I never see him again that’s fine by me.
Chapter 11
School life has gone on as usual. Professor Thomas gave me a B on my paper. So that was good. I don’t have to worry about that anymore.
I continue to do what college girls do: study, call the family, go out partying, go shopping, and I don’t give Jake much thought . . . that is until last night, a month after Jake and I fucked. I went to this party and hooked up with some guy and found myself comparing his skills to Jake’s. Bottom line? He’s got nothing on Jake in the sex department, nothing at all.
“Maybe I need better options,” I tell myself as I take a bite of my salad in the food court two days later. I’m people watching while I eat, and hoping that Megan and Sally will get here soon. They said they were running late. Most people here are chatting away at other tables or standing in line hoping to grab a bite to eat, from one of the diners, before their next class starts.
A familiar flash of blond catches my attention, and I turn to see Jake sitting at a table across the way. I haven’t seen him since I turned in my revised paper to Professor Thomas. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a book with him.
My eyes narrow, but before I stand up, I shake my head. Why do I care? I don’t know. I guess I still do. Why does he have to be so cute and so good in bed?
Shoving some lettuce into my mouth, I slide my cell phone closer to me so I can send him a quick message, just to be sure that he’s ignoring me—as if all the other times weren’t enough. I can tell he’s seen what I’ve sent because he immediately checks his phone.
All too quickly, Jake puts the phone down and takes a sip of his soda. Fuck him!
I get up and march over to him. Everyone in my line of fire is hurrying out of the way and by the time Jake’s aware of my presence, it’s too late. I’m already standing here in front of his table. Part of me wishes Sally and Megan would get here and pull me away before I do something stupid, while another part is wondering why I’m working so hard to gain the attention of a man who clearly just isn’t that interested in me. (The irony that Megan had me watch that film with her last night . . .)
As I cross my arms, Jake takes a deep breath and sits back in his chair. We don’t say anything as I just stand there while he presses his lips together—as if he’s contemplating if he should make a run for it. Okay, I’ll admit, I’m looking a little desperate right now, but no one stands me up—for anything—ever. He better have a damn good reason for avoiding me.
Finally, he gestures to one of the three available chairs near him. “Would you like to sit down?”
Out of pride, I say, “I’ll stand, thanks.”
He nods and scratches the back of his neck. “Look—”
“Was the sex not great?” I blurt out, tilting my head. “I mean, you seemed pretty into when it happened!” When I realize I’m yelling, I tone my voice down and take the nearest seat next to him, leaning close so that prying ears can’t overhear our conversation. I notice he smells exceptionally well, and this is the first time I’m taking in his outfit—nice jeans and a fitted, red collared shirt. It compliments my red shirt nicely, and we look like a couple. I shake the thought away in favor of asking, “Well, don’t you want me?”
He looks flustered and little frustrated. “Chelsea,” he starts, and he sounds a little unsure of himself. “I do want you—did want you, but . . . “
He meets my gaze, and I’m searching his eyes. “But . . .?”
“ . . . Do you want a relationship with me?”
I shake my head. �
��Of course not. I thought we could just hook up now and then—no strings attached.” It seems perfectly fine in my head . . . but then again, maybe Jake is put off by the idea. I mean, he was hesitant to sleep with me in the first place, even though he knows I find him attractive.
He studies me with a neutral expression. “I don’t want that.”
Wow . . . He said it so bluntly, too . . . Jake doesn’t want me . . .? Is this some weird alternate universe? I look away and stare at some random people in the food line. Then I look back at Jake. “Well, that’s all I can give.” I’m not about to let a guy ruin things for me.
“That’s why I’ve found someone else.”
My eyes pop open. “What do you mean ‘you’ve found someone else’?” I don’t know who she is, and yet I’m clearly jealous. She could look like the crypt keeper, and I’d still be jealous at this point . . . although I’m not sure why . . . Jake didn’t matter to me that much. Or did he? This sucks so badly. No guy has ever passed me over for romance. They’re more than happy to get some great sex from a good-looking girl with no strings. That is, until now. I fold my arms and sit back in my chair. “What? Does she look like a Victoria Secret model or something?”
He’s smiling now, and I can’t tell if he’s laughing at how pathetic I appear or if the question is true. “She’s attractive to me,” he answers. Well played . . .
“And you’re in a relationship with her . . .?” I say this as casually as possible so that I don’t sound any more curious than I already do.
“Yeah,” he replies, his grin never leaving. “I think we’re a good match actually, even if we’re in the beginning stages.”
I roll my eyes. All romance stages are better in the beginning . . . What does she have that I don’t have? That’s it! I have to see this girl to know why my expert riding skills are being declined in favor of . . . What if she’s better than me? I rub my temples at the thought.
Pretty Young Thing: a new adult romance box set Page 7