by Sonya Jesus
Dylan leans into me, resting his body against mine, nearly toppling me over. “I’m exhausted. Will you take me to bed?”
Blaze snorts behind me again, and I ignore it. “Very funny, Dylan.” I make it clear for Blaze’s eavesdropping ears.
Dylan grins from ear to ear and stands up straight. “Honestly, I’m considering skipping my afternoon class for a nap.”
“Why don’t you? I would.”
“Reid has Presley and Deacon on patrol. If any of us skip class, without a valid medical reason, we get another week of punishment practice.”
“That’s horrible! I actually feel bad for you guys.”
“You should! This is the first week in a long time that no girl has graced the suite. None of us are up for girls.”
Maybe I should give Robins that kind of punishment practice. No. STOP it! No thinking of Robins!
“That’s hard to believe,” I say with no oomph. “Not that I know the ratio of the male to female population in your natural habitat.” I make Dylan smile, and I love it when he does; it eases his stern face. They all have that resting asshole expression, like they are angry at something, even Reid and Presley. Dylan, Deacon, Christian, and Sebastian are the more lighthearted ones, constantly talking to someone and occasionally showing their gentler side. Actually, Christian is just as intimidating as Aiden, but because of class, I’ve gotten used to his gloomy ways.
“Why don’t you ever come up there?” I give him an are you serious look that makes him start to chuckle. “You can come up whenever you want.”
“Are you inviting me to the soccer suite?” I’m not exactly sure if I should be honored or weirded out by the invite. Girls who go up there don’t usually come back out without being thoroughly sexed. It’s like a reverse whore house. They are probably worse than Robins. I’m surprised they aren’t better friends with the number of women that they probably shared.
“You look kind of horrified by my invitation.” I quickly plaster on a smile. “That’s better! It’s just to hang out.”
I flash him a skeptical glance.
“No, come on. You have a boyfriend. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.” That’s the problem: everything sounds like a good idea in the spur of the moment. “We can have a couple beers and play video games.”
I laugh at the idea, but something tells me he's serious. “One of these days I might take you up on that offer, but I hate beer.”
“Seriously?” Both of us are taken aback by the interloper in our conversation. I twist to face Blaze, raising my eyebrows, demanding he explains why he’s involving himself.
“Hawthorne.” Dylan’s eyes lock with Blaze’s. “You have something you want to say?”
Blaze avoids eye contact with me. “Amelia, girls who get that offer usually end up regretting it when they leave.” I get shivers down my back. He’s warning me about something. It wasn’t like Blaze to do this, much less confront one of the Soccer Gods.
“What girls?” Dylan challenges him. “Like I told Lia, no one does anything they don’t want to do in the suite.”
“Whatever,” he says to Dylan then turns to me. “Trust me!” His eyes are begging me to listen to him. I nod so only he could see. Blaze hasn’t steered me wrong yet, and I have known him for a bit. “But you do whatever you want.” He’s backing down only because I agreed with him.
“That little shit,” Dylan whispers in my ear, surprising me with his anger. Dylan isn’t usually angry, a little firm faced sometimes, but this was pure hostility. Aiden’s territory. I don’t ask to explain because I have the creepy feeling that I shouldn’t go up to the wolf’s den.
I shrug it off, trying to keep my decision to myself. “You didn’t really think I was going to go up there, did you?” I say, trying to avoid the subject. “Aiden isn’t exactly my biggest fan, Dylan. I doubt he’ll want to see me drinking his beer and playing video games with his friends.”
This amuses him. The austere side of him disappears, and back is the more cheerful Dylan. “I think I’d get a kick out of it. Seeing his face when he sees you there.”
“I’ll pass on seeing that face.” I notice it’s my turn and order myself a grilled chicken Caesar salad. I step to the side for Dylan to order and Blaze catches my attention while Dylan is focused on the grill chef. He mouths, “Be careful,” just before Dylan walks towards me.
I focus back on Dylan, who is grinning goofily. “You have no idea.”
“About what?” I glance at Blaze, but he’s ordering his food. I need to know what he knows. Not that I was planning on going over there, but why should I stay away from the soccer suite?
“Nothing,” he says. “Since we are Facebook friends now, take a picture with me?” Confused by the subject change, I don’t realize the camera is in my face until he says, “Smile.” I do as he says and he snaps the selfie.
“Are you going to post that?” I’m worried. Connor. Robins. Aiden. My suitemates. What will they say if they see it?
“Already did.” He shows me the picture with the caption. “Lunch with my new Facebook friend.” Then underneath there was a hashtag #princesslia&me. The picture was actually kind of nice. Both of us looked happy.
“Princess? Why do you call me that?” It’s cute. I just don’t understand.
“You got me.” He shrugs off my question. “I wasn’t the one who started it. I wanted to call you sugar lips or honey-buns.”
“Those are a little disturbing.”
“I have a sweet tooth, remember?” he says as if it offers an explanation. The man at the grill calls out my grilled chicken salad and Dylan’s cheesesteak sandwich at the same time. We get our orders and walk to the cashier. After paying, we find a table near the stairs, out of sight to whoever came in.
Damn, I completely forgot my tea. I place the food down, and shrug my bag off my shoulder to pull out a fruit water,
We eat in comfortable silence until Dylan opens the conversation again. “Can I ask you something?”
I put my fork down and take a sip of fruit water in order to wash my mouth before answering. “Sure.”
He fidgets with the sandwich in his hands and looks me straight in the eyes. “Is the Freshman thing serious?”
I tilt my head to the side. Why would he ask that?
“I mean, he did the big gesture, and there was the flower thing that one time. I’m curious.”
“Why are you curious?”
“Because you’re a curious girl. Maybe I’m trying to figure out what it takes to get into your heart. You know, in case the Freshman fucks up.”
He’s flirting, but not quite. It’s more like he’s probing me for information. I still think they get a good laugh out of me, but I’m going to give Dylan the benefit of the doubt here and play along.
“It takes a lot to get into my heart, Dylan.” Sometimes I think I don’t have space in it anymore. “But I’m not really into big gestures.”
“You aren’t? Then what was last night all about?”
“Last night was someone who knows nothing about me, trying to get into my pants.” This whole honesty thing was liberating. “It backfired. I’d much rather have the small gestures.” I smile and test him. “Like Sharpie notes on my favorite things.”
He blushes!
Holy shit I got one of the Gods to blush!
“You liked that?” he asks coyly.
“I loved that, actually.” I’m not lying there. It’s usually the little things that win me over. Like picking up coffee for me, texting to say good morning, picking me instead of a guy’s night. One big gesture will never outweigh the importance of a bunch of little ones.
“I don’t understand. Aren’t girls all about the big things?”
“Are you asking for relationship advice?” I smile, because I have a feeling his flirting is innocent, and I could use a little distraction from the Connor/Robins dilemma. “Some girls like that stuff,” I admit. “But it depends on what they are looking for. Like, maybe you want a b
ig gesture when you’re getting engaged, or a big gesture after a fight, but when you are just starting off, the big gestures don’t mean as much as the little ones. The little ones mean the person is thinking about you constantly. Innately almost. Like they woke up and thought of you, or they thought of you during breakfast and brought you some coffee. The big ones take less time.”
“Less time? I don’t know about that, but I get what you mean. Like the big gesture is for everyone, the small ones are just for you.”
“I guess so, yeah.” I laugh. “But both are nice.”
The conversation fades as we finish up our lunch and we talk about relationships. He tells me about his high school girlfriend who broke up with him during their freshman year of college after being together for five years. He thought she was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with, then she cheated on him and broke his heart, sending him into a rebound spiral.
I had no idea that Dylan Sharpe had only been with one girl before joining Westbrook’s Mount Olympus. That’s obviously not the case anymore, but he doesn’t seem happy about it. I get the impression that if she came back into the picture, he would drop any of the girls and go back to her.
He doesn’t stop at just his ex, he tells me about his suitemates past loves and how they initially bonded over the fact they all came with past damage. Of course, he doesn’t go much into detail, other than there is a lot no one knows about them. He also tells out of all of them, Aiden understood him the best.
I wonder what that means. Is that why Aiden was always so severe? Heartache turned him? Does he not trust women? Perhaps there is more to him than I think. Maybe there are reasons for his unsympathetic nature, or maybe he’s just good at being bad. It didn’t really matter, seeing as I had no intention of getting in his way again.
After lunch with Dylan, I had to run to my afternoon class. As soon as I get to the Science Building, I open the door and find Robins and Meg at the top of the stairs. He’s leaning against the staircase, she’s between his legs, her lips colliding with his. At first, his hands remain holding onto the rail, but as the kiss deepens, his hands wrap around her waist. He pulls her into him, so that they were as close as possible. When her hands tug at his hair, I turn away and walk back out.
I didn’t understand what they were doing here; neither of them are science majors. I can’t think straight. My mind keeps winding up, reminding me of things like, Most of those thirty-six times were with Meg.
He didn’t seem so confused to me right now.
I bite my lip hard so the pain can bring me out of shock. I told myself this morning: that kind of relationship with Robins was hopeless. This just solidifies it. I keep battling through my feelings, but for what? Christopher belonged to Meg, and it was only a matter of time before Robins did, too.
Chapter 9: Photography Session
Lia
I skip class after seeing Robins and Meg´s liplock and end up sitting at Lovers’ Well for a couple of hours alone, feeling like a complete and total shit. I’ve seen it hundreds of times before, but this time it split me open, reminding me why the love between us should be completely platonic and wishing I could restart this school year over with a steel heart… or heartless. Either one would be great. Either one would have saved me from the Connor/Robins aftermath. How the hell did I manage to get my heart broken, twice, and my ego shattered in a 24-hour time span?
Probably because I’m an epic failure at relationships. I think entirely too much. I should give up on thinking, and live in the moment and see where that takes me. First things first, I need to face Connor.
I stop by my place first and get my cheer gear for tonight’s mandatory practice. My body is sore all over the place, including my heart. I need some caffeinated courage before facing Connor and Meg. I put my phone on top of my desk and grab a water bottle from the fridge, noticing I am running low. One pack of water has lasted me two weeks, where it would have normally lasted me a couple months. Dr. Chase told me if I keep drinking coffee and Diet Coke, one day my kidneys were going to crystalize forever.
Until then, I’m going to enjoy myself. I pop a full mug of water into the microwave for a couple minutes. While it’s heating up I search the room for signs of my roommate. Where has she been? I miss her. The microwave pings at the same time that my phone rings. I grab it off my desk: Connor. I get the nervous jitters in my stomach, ignore the call and fix myself a coffee.
Two double scoops made the ideal cup of frothy cappuccino. I was moaning into my big yellow mug. This is delicious. My phone vibrates again, the sound of the plastic cover against the wood intensifies the noise. I sag into my computer chair and send Connor’s call to voicemail again. Bad news is something I could wait for.
I still haven’t decided if I want to tell Connor about spending the night at Robins’ place or just forget it happened all together. Not that it will matter if Connor is going to break up with me.
Ugh. What possessed me to think Robins would ever want me over Meg Montaine? She’s gorgeous on the exterior, and obviously good to him, or else they wouldn’t still be together. I guess their inner bitches connected on a soulful level, but I couldn’t see how my Robins would ever like someone like her.
That’s because he isn’t my Robins, not really. As much as I want to believe he would choose me, everything is pointing to her. Robins and I are hopeless… and… I’m thinking about him again.
Fucking great! Less thinking, Lia.
I glance over at my phone and the two missed calls from the guy who actually wanted to talk to me. I finish the rest of my coffee, almost gulping it down and go to Connor.
I knock on the door to his room hesitantly, unsure of what’s going to happen. I hold my breath, only releasing it the moment he answers the door with a huge smile on his face. “Lia!” he says, surprised. “You came?” He steps aside for me to enter.
“Of course, I came.” I plant a kiss on his lips to gauge his reaction. He grabs me close, deepening the kiss. I guess we weren’t in as bad of a place as I had thought. His hands wrap around my waist, drawing me into him. As he steps us back into the room, he slams the door shut with his foot.
I come up for air, dropping my bag on the floor. “Sorry I didn’t answer. I had class and I figure it’s easier to just stop by and talk.” I skip everything else, giving him the generic and honest answer.
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t come.” He steps back, taking hold of my hand and guiding us towards the desk. I sit on the desk and he sits in front of me, taking my legs and placing them on his lap. The position is a little uncomfortable, or maybe I am just uncomfortable, and the awkward silence isn’t helping.
He breaks the quiet, “I’m sorry. I’m such an asshole.”
I chuckle at his admission. “Sometimes, but at least you admit it.”
He takes off my sneakers, one by one, and throws them to the floor.
“Are you trying to make it so I can’t run away?” I joke, but the serious expression I get in return worries me. Okay, it was now or never, no thinking- just- Connor or no Connor. “Are we okay?”
“That’s a good question, Lia. Are we okay? I mean, yesterday kind of made me think you were ready to break up.” He lets my legs dangle over the desk, grabbing my hand and bringing it up to his heart. “I actually thought we did.”
I close my eyes, feel the rapid, worried beat of his heart against the palm of my hand, trying to shut the noise of the world out so I can focus on this. He leans in, grabs hold of my chin with his other hand, and tilts it gently so that we are looking at each other. “I made a mistake.” His voice cracks, heavy with the weight of unshed tears. His eyes strain against that weight. “I don’t deserve someone as good as you.”
Ugh. Damn it. That gnawing feeling of guilt, trying to erode my resolve forces me to speak. “Connor, don’t say that.” It takes a moment for the courage to find me. “I talked to Robins yesterday.”
His hand goes to my lip, two fingers linger there as he sha
kes his head for me to stop speaking. “You don’t have to apologize for talking to Robins.”
Flirting, cuddling, sleeping over, wishing he’d kiss me, thinking about being his, wanting to be: those were all the things I had to apologize for; talking was the least of all my sins. “But Connor-“
“Stop. I told you to go to him.” He inhales deeply. “I don’t want to talk about Robins right now. I need to tell you how sorry I am… for everything.”
I take his fingers and interlaces our hands together. “I forgive you. It was a lot to take in. I should have been honest with you from the beginning. I was kind of scared.”
“You were right to be. I should have acted differently.” He squeezes my hand tightly. His free hand goes to my waist, his thumb caressing my skin. “Lia.” I lift my eyes to meet his. “I wanted to break up last night. When I left, I was ready to walk away.”
My heart recoils from the harsh words, but his touch gives me promise. His hands fly up to my face, cupping my cheeks and holding me still with fervor. “I was wrong.” He lifts up and presses his lips to mine gently. He stops, only to tell me, “I was so wrong, and I am so sorry. You caught me off guard with everything, and it was my initial reaction. I just want you to understand that. I’m sorry for breaking up with you yesterday.” He kisses me again.
I’m not exactly sure I understand what is happening. I withdraw from his touch, swirl my head, maneuvering it out of his grasp. I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t know what to say. Did I miss something? I run through what he said, how we left things last night. Was there an actual break up? I didn’t think so, but he did ask for time to think.
“Did we officially break up last night?” My hand drifts to my mouth, to cover the shock. How did I not know? My Angel answers for me, Inexperience. It’s not like I’ve been through many breakups. Why did I think they usually ended in a big bang explosion? My hand moves from my lips to my forehead, rubbing just above my eyebrows. He distances himself from me. “I thought—” I’m at a loss for words. I find them. “I thought we were in a fight or something. Yea, maybe I thought it would lead to a breakup, but I didn’t think we broke up.” I get up off his desk and take a deep breath, ready to walk out of here with my head held high. “If we broke up yesterday, then I don’t know what I am doing here.”