Slammed #4 (The Slammed Romance Series - Book #4)

by Adams, Claire

  After the movie, Derick managed to finagle his way into holding my hand while we walked out to his car, talking about the funnier aspects of the story. It was nothing incredibly original, but I was at least more comfortable talking about that than I would have been talking about myself, or hearing about Derick. I already knew that there would be no second date; I just couldn’t make myself interested in him, in spite of the obvious evidence that he came from a well-to-do family and seemed perfectly nice. But I wasn’t about to demonstrate to him that I had already given up hope of finding any kind of spark between the two of us. It wouldn’t be fair or nice to him, and on top of it, I wasn’t sure that he would honor his agreement with Jess if I didn’t manage to make it all the way through the date. I was absolutely starving by the time we got into his car, and I was more than happy with the fact that we were going to dinner next.

  I kept up my end of the conversation as we drove from the theater to the restaurant, telling Derick about the time that I had seen Hot Hot Heat play live and how I’d managed to talk myself into a quick meeting with the band. Derick peppered me with questions about it—how I’d convinced the roadies and the security people, what I had talked to the different band members about.

  “Well,” I said, smiling slightly, “I had a press pass from the high school newspaper, and I basically just sort of…pressed my point with the security guy, saying that even though it was a high school paper, I was a very professional type of person, and that I really wanted to write an article for the school rag about the concert and the band.” I shrugged.

  “And they actually bought that?” I laughed.

  “Well it was partly true anyway; I did want to do an article. But I think it was mostly that I just stood there not being rude or fan girl-like, persistently arguing the point. The guy just eventually gave up and led me back to where the band was hanging out in their green room.”

  It was one of the more daring stunts I had ever done in my life—the sort of thing that, looking back on it, was more the inspiration of the moment than something I could have planned. If I had tried to plan an attack to get backstage, it would have failed miserably from me overthinking it. But because I had just had the idea and acted on it, I’d pulled it off.

  The restaurant that Derick pulled up to was obviously expensive; there were Mercedes, BMWs, and a few higher-end sports cars parked among Priuses in the parking lot, and the red, brick building had an understated sort of comfortable luxury appeal. Quietly elegant piano music filtered through the outdoor speakers, and when Derick opened the door, the smell of delicious things wafted out to greet us. When the hostess asked if we wanted to sit inside or on the terrace, Derick looked at me for my preference.

  “Let’s sit outside,” I suggested; I hadn’t missed the braziers stationed around the patio—it would be comfortable enough even with the autumn chill.

  We sat down and I looked at the menu; for a long moment I was both pleased and appalled. There wasn’t a single entrée under $25, and most of them were closer to $40. Derick was definitely pulling out the stops to impress me, and I was guaranteed a good meal—something that I would probably be able to remember long after my memory of my date had muddled itself into near-nothingness. I talked to Derick about the different items, trying to feel out just how much he was willing to spend—but he insisted that I should order whatever appealed to me the most, without worrying about price.

  “If I had to worry about what your dinner would cost, I wouldn’t have brought you here,” he said, smiling at me happily. “I just really want you to have a good time, so please, anything that seems to be the most interesting or tasty—feel free to order it.”

  It was a hard decision even if I tried to take the concern of money off of my mind. There were so many things that sounded so delicious, and I was so hungry, that I couldn’t even remotely make up my mind. I was a little surprised when the waiter came and took our drink order, not batting an eyelash as Derick ordered wine for both of us and not carding either of us. I supposed that if you went to such an expensive place, they didn’t really think that anyone under a certain age would be among their clientele.

  I finally settled on my selections from the menu, giving into Derick’s insistence that I have one of each course: appetizer, salad, entrée, and dessert. It would make for a long dinner, but at least, I thought, there would be a good meal in my stomach and apparently wine to help lubricate the awkwardness between us. I tried to take an interest in Derick’s detailed explanations about the differences between several of the presidents and their policies, but I really couldn’t make myself do more than just nod and occasionally make comments about a particular president’s interaction with the press of their era and what it had done to contribute to current affairs.

  When the appetizers arrived, I was absolutely relieved. Derick might be a perfectly nice guy, but he was tedious—and I couldn’t feel any kind of spark of interest in him. Our conversation lagged as we both tucked into our separate first courses; Derick had ordered oysters Rockefeller, while I’d taken seared scallops with a kind of crouton. It was delicious, and I savored every bite, taking only the few opportunities to talk to Derick that I had to—when he asked how I liked my food, if I’d ever had scallops before.

  I sipped my wine and looked around idly; we were clearly the youngest people at the restaurant, and I wondered again at the fact that the waiter hadn’t been the slightest bit suspicious of the fact that two college freshmen were in the restaurant ordering wine. But I decided abruptly that it was just as well that no one had questioned it; it was easier to tolerate my boredom with Derick with the help of the wine and the excellent food. The salad came quickly and I used the excuse of more delight than I really felt at the dressed mixture of bitter salad greens, sweet citrus and crunchy nuts to keep my mouth full so I could avoid answering more questions about how much I liked the food.

  Derick seemed to have settled in by the time the entrée arrived; at his goading, I had ordered filet mignon with pommes Anna, grilled asparagus, and hollandaise sauce. Derick had ordered swordfish with some kind of roasted tomato side and couscous, and seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit. I was definitely looking forward to dessert—not only because of the fact that I was excited for the crème brulée, but also because once we had finished dessert the night would be nearly over.

  Be nice, Evie, I told myself firmly. It isn’t his fault that you find him boring. One of these days, if the universe is fair, he’ll find some girl who thinks his smarts and interest in economics and politics are absolutely charming.

  The waiter came and removed the entrée plates, and I tried to rack my brain for something to talk about next. I wondered to myself if Derick was finding the date as hopeless as I was—if he was certain there would be no second date, or if that decision had only been made by me. I was spared the need to come up with something to talk about, however.

  Before the dessert could come out, Derick and I were interrupted by someone who rushed up to the table, looking barely dressed enough to even be allowed into the restaurant at all. As the figure approached, I thought there was something familiar about it—and then all at once I realized it was Zack. I nearly dropped my wine glass in surprise at the sight of the man I least expected to show up to interrupt my date.

  Oh god, I thought with dread. I thought his name too many times. It was actually as if I had summoned him with nothing more than my thoughts. I took a deep breath as Zack came up to the table, stopping short and looking from me to Derick.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked him, setting down my wine glass as carefully as I could. My hands were shaking slightly at the sight of him.

  “Evie, you’re making a big mistake,” Zack said, crossing his arms and looking Derick over.

  “I don’t happen to think so—and besides, what business is it of yours?” Derick looked desperately uncomfortable and I couldn’t blame him; for the first time in the entire night I could actually sympathize with him.

 
“I went to your room to try and talk to you about this whole stupid mess we’re in, but your roommate told me you were on a date.” Zack scowled at me, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes full of brittle anger.

  “We broke up Zack,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and level. “I didn’t see you chasing after me when it happened, and you haven’t exactly seemed interested in trying to fix anything. So it’s none of your business who I go on a date with.”

  “Yeah, well, Jess obviously thought it was my business because she told me you’d be here with this guy.” Zack gestured dismissively towards Derick. “No offense, dude, but you are not the kind of guy that Evie should be dating.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re a fine one to talk about who I should be dating! Why do you even care? I’m sure there’s some sorority sister just looking to hop into your bed and help you keep it warm.”

  Zack let out a sound like a growl, his hands clenching briefly into fists as he looked from Derick to me.

  “This is a big mistake you’re making, Evie. I could really make you happy but you’re never going to look past your own stupid insecurities to even listen to me.”

  I shook my head. “The only person making a mistake here is you. What the hell did you think it would accomplish to barge in on me in the middle of a date? You know what, don’t answer.” Derick was frozen in his seat, humiliated, obviously unwilling or unable to stick up for himself. “You’re wasting your time and a stunt like this is not even remotely the way to get me back.”

  Zack stared at me for a long moment and exhaled sharply, stepping back from the table.

  “You’re making a big mistake, Evie,” he said, turning to go. “But it’s obvious you don’t even want to believe me.”

  I let out a sigh of relief as he stalked away from the patio, out into the darkness of the parking lot beyond. I covered my eyes with my hand.

  “I’m really sorry, Derick,” I said, smiling wryly. “I had no idea that he was going to do that—he and I aren’t even in a relationship anymore.”

  Derick shakily reached out and lifted his wine glass, taking a sip. “You handled him well. I was starting to think we’d have to call the waiter over to boot him.”

  I smiled weakly. All I wanted was to finish my dessert and get home, get out of the uncomfortable shoes, and take a long shower before throwing myself into bed. Fortunately, everything seemed to settle down once more as the waiter brought our desserts; I didn’t even put up a token resistance when Derick took the check the moment it landed on the table—I knew that I couldn’t even afford to pay for my half of the meal, or possibly even the tip.

  I let Derick walk me to my room, and even let him put his arm around my waist, feeling shaken and frustrated and depressed by Zack’s appearance at the date, even if I hadn’t particularly enjoyed Derick’s company. I still had no intention of going on another date with Derick, but I did let him kiss me good night at my door; I kept it as chaste as possible and made the excuse that I was exhausted when I could tell that he wanted to be invited in.

  Jess was waiting for me on the couch. The moment I had the door closed behind me, I kicked off my shoes and handed them to her. “Well, that was a disaster of epic proportions,” I said, sinking down on the closer chair and pulling my hair down and out of the style she had woven it into.

  “Was Derick like a total jerk or something?”

  I shook my head. “No, he was polite as could be. But Zack decided to barge in just before dessert and humiliate me in front of an entire restaurant full of people.”

  Jess cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “He came in here and demanded to know where you were, and I told him I’d set you up on a date with one of my classmates in exchange for homework help. He got the restaurant out of me and I told him like five times not to go—that it would be stupid and you’d hate it—but I guess he decided that I had no idea what I was talking about.”

  I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment.

  “Yeah, he came right up to the table and told me I was making a huge mistake, blah blah blah…it was awful. And Derick had about as much spine as an overcooked spaghetti noodle.” Jess grimaced again. “I will not be going out on a second date with him. If you need more Econ help, go to the library and get a regular tutor.”

  “I will keep that in mind,” Jess said. “The food was good at least, right?”

  “It was great. Now let’s see if I can make it to bed without hurling it all up.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It surprised me to realize that a month had passed since I had broken things off with Zack and since the disastrous date with Jess’ classmate. She did get the help that she had bartered a date with me for, and she was confident in finishing up the semester with a good grade that would let her go on to other more interesting classes. I had managed to put Zack more or less out of my mind, and to prevent Jess from sending me on any more dates, or even trying to make me go out with her to party; in fact, getting closer and closer to finals, she was cutting back on partying on her own.

  It had been a good break, and I was finally starting to really and truly relax into life once more. After a week or two, I stopped trying to hide out in my room and started to actually get involved in campus life a little more. It helped that in the time since the final game of the football season, the campus newspaper had put me onto covering the basketball team. The first game I went to, when I interviewed a few of the players afterward, one of them ventured the opinion that he had been proud of the way I’d stood up for myself with Zack, that I was an impressive woman.

  I kept up with all of my classes and even started to take on a few other responsibilities on the newspaper, not just doing my own assignments but also taking some of the proofreading load off of the editors, reading through articles that came in and checking them for spelling and grammar before handing them off to the editors.

  “I keep finding new reasons to thank Professor Grant for signing you on,” Lisa told me once, shaking her head at how much my additions had helped the whole team. I hadn’t been there long enough to start pitching my own article ideas; I was still on assignments handed out by the editorial staff—things that they had no one in particular to cover—but I was gaining trust and I had gotten hints that in the spring semester I would start being able to put forth my own ideas in the weekly meeting.

  I hadn’t even tried to date anyone at all in the time since the disaster with Derick. I told myself that I was swearing off of boys for good and that I’d just wait until I graduated and find some actual men to involve myself with once I could get started on my career. I knew it wouldn’t last, but for the time being, it was good enough for me. I had time to hang out with Jess, and I started to become better friends with some of the staff of the newspaper; I was satisfied with that and didn’t even want to try for more.

  I went into Lisa’s office after classes, ready to be told that I was going to be covering something other than the basketball team; her email to me had hinted that I was changing up duties. “Hey, here I am,” I said, opening the door to the office after knocking. “What’s the sitch, Chief?”

  Lisa laughed. “Take a seat. Let me just finish this email and I’ll give you the lowdown.” I sat down and took my notebook out of my bag, watching as Lisa tapped out the last few sentences in an email in a rapid staccato. “So, Evie. As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re coming up on the championship game for the football team.”

  My heart started to beat faster in my chest.

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that,” I said, more because I knew she was expecting me to say something.

  In the back of my mind I had been counting down the days—I knew that everyone on campus was buzzing with excitement over it. Some of the students had booked their plane tickets and the boosters were trying to get as many people to the game as possible. I knew that there were some people planning a road trip out to California where the stadium was at. I had told myself over and over again that I
didn’t care, that whatever happened to the football team was barely my business, but I had been hoping against hope that I would be too busy on other assignments when the game came up.

  “Well, Coach Bullden specifically requested that we send you to cover the game,” Lisa said, smiling broadly at me.

  “That’s—Wow. I wouldn’t have expected that.” I felt my cheeks burning. It shouldn’t have surprised me, with the praise the coach had lavished on me for my previous coverage of the team.

  “I was pretty surprised too. You must have really impressed him.” I nodded. Lisa watched me intently for a moment, tapping idly on the top of her desk. “Look, everyone on campus knows there’s been… issues with you and Zack. If you can’t handle this, let me know and I’ll tell Bullden that you’re covering something else and we can’t spare you.”

  It was tempting. If I could just back out of the situation completely—if I could avoid having to go to California and face the possibility of having to confront Zack again, it would be a major relief. But I thought about the fact that Bullden had requested me specifically. And the fact that I knew I had done well in my previous articles about the team and its games. Besides, it wasn’t likely that I’d have to interview Zack—he might not even be at the game at all. I had determinedly not kept up with the drama surrounding his suspension; I had banned all mention of him from Jess.

  “Is Zack going to be playing, then?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible.