by Lex Martin
Since we coordinate everyone else’s schedules, we get the choice spots, so I take a few midday slots each week. I use my time to finish some new designs for Professor Zinzer, who stops by on his way out each day.
Zin is cute. He’s older, maybe in his late sixties, and wears a different-colored bow tie every day of the week.
“Ms. Hart, now don’t be offended by this, but are you sure you’re a business student?”
His question surprises me. I brace myself for what I’m sure will be some kind of insult because I know my grades haven’t always been great. My business professors are so nitpicky and annoying. They’ll love my presentations but dock me a full letter grade on projects because of my clothes or the streaks in my hair. They want me to wear conservative clothes and tie my hair up in a bun. #HellNo At least I look pretty normal when I’m hanging in the art department.
“I’m sorry, sir, what?”
“Your work for me is spectacular. I’m wondering if you’re not a pro masquerading as a student.”
Exhaling in relief, I smile. “You’re too kind, but I can assure you that I’m very much a student.”
Zin drags a nearby chair to my desk and sits. He glances around the bustling lab and then lowers his voice. “I don’t say this often because the kids around here are usually full of their own virtue, but I wanted to let you know that you have a lot of natural artistic talent. Your drawings are spectacular and your graphic design top-notch.” He scratches his chin. “You know, if you ever want to audit some courses in my little nook of the universe, I could make that happen.”
I knew he was happy with my brochures, but I’m a little floored by his compliment. I rewrote his marketing materials, drew some original artwork, scanned them in, tweaked the colors in Photoshop, and had everything printed out for his approval before he asked. But I figured that’s what the job called for.
“Thank you, Professor. I’d really like that.” Actually, I’d love it.
After only two weeks of business classes, none of which have been particularly inspiring, I’d be crazy to pass up his offer even if it means my schedule will be jam-packed. Then I wouldn’t have to lie to my mom.
He reaches for a laptop and pulls up a screen of class listings.
“Some of these are full, but take a look and see what catches your eye. See me tomorrow with your top three choices, and we’ll go from there and figure out what we can work into your schedule.”
My day gets better when I bump into Jenna on the way home. We grab some mochas, and she surprises me when she loops her arm through mine as we walk down the street like we’re the oldest of friends.
“Okay, girl. I know we haven’t had a chance to hang out, and I want the scoop. Dish.”
“That’s a little broad, Jenna.” I laugh. “What do you want to know?”
“Any hot men in your life? I love Ryan, but sometimes I need to live vicariously through my friends. Plus, I’m taking this romance writing class this semester, and I’m out of ideas.”
“I don’t think I have anything juicy enough for your class.”
“Weren’t you dating that guy last semester?”
“Pshaw. That’s over. Way, way over.”
She frowns. “Bummer.”
“Not so much. He’s an ass.” We walk in silence, and I bump her with my hip. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I did kinda hook up with someone last weekend.”
Her eyes widen like she’s won the lottery. “Shut up! When?”
“At the club. When I was blowing you off, I was busy with this beautiful guy in the green room.”
She squeals like a teenager, and a few people on the corner turn to watch us.
“He made my toes curl. He was so gorgeous. Tall, totally ripped, messy brownish-blond hair. The best kisser.”
“Yum!” She shivers dramatically, and I laugh again. “Are you going to see him again?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s not like that.” Although I wish it were.
She frowns again but then sighs. “At least you have some good spank bank material, though.”
I don’t bother fighting the smile that peeks out on my face. “Definitely.”
“Speaking of tickling the taco, my sister threw a sex toy party, and she said it was a blast.” A snort of laughter bursts out of me. Tickling the taco? Jenna smiles conspiratorially. “I’m thinking of throwing one later this semester. This company demos all their stuff while we get trashed. Sound like fun?”
Still chuckling, I nod. “Count me in.”
“Good. Now maybe you can help me talk Clem into it. She’s too hermetically sealed. I want to help her loosen up.”
I tense. I’ve said hi to Clem all week, and she barely mumbles any kind of greeting in return. I even asked if she wanted to watch Glee, and she rolled her eyes at me. Again.
“What?” Jenna asks.
Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but I can’t seem to help my diarrhea of the mouth. “I know you and Clem are really tight, but… I don’t think she likes me.”
She pulls me to a stop. “I know Clementine seems like a total bitch on a good day, but give her time to get to know you. There’s no one more loyal. She’s just been through a lot of shit, so she doesn’t trust people, and she’s kind of in her own world, but once you get to know her, you’ll love her. I promise.”
I nod hesitantly. “Okay.”
Jenna laughs. “She’s going to kill me for saying this, but you should ask to read her book. She’s this amazing writer, and no one knows ’cause she writes under a pen name. She’s super private. But if she lets you read it, you’ll get a whole new insight into her. The book is really about what happened to her in high school with her ex and her asshole parents. Clem’s life is a soap opera, but you’d never know it.”
Now I’m intrigued.
Jenna turns me to her, a serious expression on her face. “I’m only telling you this because I trust you. Being friends with Clem is hardcore. You can’t screw her over.”
My spine straightens. I’m not sure if I should be afraid or offended.
Her eyes soften. “Sorry, I don’t mean to freak you out. I love her like a sister, and if you knew the shit she’s gone through, you’d be protective of her too. And I want the two of you to be close, which is why I’m putting this out there.”
I get it. Jenna is Clem’s Travis. He’d walk through fire for me. “It’s cool. I understand.”
* * *
On Sunday, I finally get a chance to hang out with Clem. She’s gorgeous with long blondish-brown hair and big blue eyes. I know she works out like a maniac because every time I see her, she’s headed out for a run. She looks amazing even in sweats, which is what we’re all wearing.
I drank a little too much with Travis last night, so I’m fighting a hangover, and I’m sure I look like hell. My hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and I didn’t bother with any makeup. Whatever. We’re just doing laundry at Ryan’s and making lunch.
I’m stuffed in the back seat of a Honda Civic, squished next to Clem, bags of dirty laundry at our feet, when her book comes up.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says, complaining about her book cover. “I don’t really want to deal with hiring a designer.”
“You don’t need a designer. I can do a cover for you.” I reach into my purse, hoping I can find some gum so I don’t kill her with my hangover breath.
Her face lights up like I just told her Henry Cavill wants her to have his baby. “That would be huge! I will totally pay you.”
I shake my head. “No way. You’re my roommate. It’s, like, against the code or something.”
She pauses to look at Jenna and then turns back to me. “Okay, if you’re not going to take my money, let me buy you some art supplies because I know that shit is expensive.”
With that new art class I’m auditing, I could use some supplies. I offer her a stick of gum. “Deal, but I want to read your book. Jenna says you’re a great writer.”
She kicks Jenna’s seat and then pauses. Silence fills the car. I’m about to say it’s not a big deal and to forget it when she says, “All right, but you’re sworn to secrecy. I write under a pen name, and I don’t want that getting out. And when I say secrecy, we’re talking blood oath or I get your first child.”
I laugh, but I know she’s being serious.
Once we start talking about designs and concepts, she lets her guard down, and the conversation flows easily. When Clem isn’t scowling, she’s downright captivating with a natural kind of charisma. It makes me wonder what happened to her that has her so closed off, which makes me more eager to read her book.
When we reach Ryan’s house, we lug the laundry up the stairs. I trail behind, too tired to keep up. Inside, I hear Ryan call my roommate Clemster. I’m surprised she doesn’t punch him, but Ryan seems to be able to say things no one else can.
I drop the laundry in the hall and duck into the kitchen to put a few groceries in the refrigerator. Jenna pops in behind me.
“I should warn you,” she whispers. “Have you met Clem’s twin?”
I turn to look at her. “No.”
“He’s here, and he’s totally beautiful but kind of a man-whore. Don’t let him charm you. Clem kinda hates when he tries to hookup with her friends.” Her Southern accent is soft with a musical quality to it, but I know she means business.
“Good to know. Thanks for the warning.”
This is what I need. Girl bonding. I haven’t thought about what happened last weekend all morning. Thank God. Maybe I’m over it. Over him. Who needs hot hookups in a club when you have good girlfriends?
Jenna winks and hands me a beer. I wander into the living room, which is full of guys. The Notre Dame theme music is blaring from the flatscreen that’s mounted on the wall, and I turn to try to figure out the score.
“Cool. Who are the Irish playing?” I ask no one in particular. Ryan comes up and hugs me.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“Hi, Ryan.” I grin. Jenna’s boyfriend is awesome. I met him for twenty minutes last week, and he immediately treated me like one of their inner circle.
“They’re playing Stanford. I didn’t know you were a football fan.”
“Yeah, I love football and basketball, but really, I like anything that includes mascots, beer and brats.”
“I knew I liked you. Hey, I don’t think you’ve met my band.” He turns me to face everyone and starts to introduce me to his friends.
But I don’t hear anything he says because sitting there, at the end of the couch, is a familiar face. A very familiar face.
My breathing stops, and sweat breaks out on my forehead.
Finally, Ryan’s words break through my fog. “And this asshole here is Jax, Clem’s twin. You’ll want to stay away from him,” Ryan jokes. “He’s a slut.”
Yeah. I caught that already.
Shit.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
- Dani -
What’s worse than learning you almost slept with your new roommate’s brother? Um, that would be him not remembering you.
I wait for the recognition, the look in his eyes that says, yes, I went down on you and lapped you up like a Slurpee, but it never comes. In fact, he barely glances in my direction. Finally, he yells, “Down in front, girls.”
Oh my God.
Was he that drunk last Saturday night? I swear he seemed fine. I was more buzzed than he was. So not only did he stop us from doing it—which is totally offensive now that I know he sleeps with a lot of girls—but then he ditched me. And now doesn’t remember me.
#Asshole
I would scream right now if I weren’t in a room full of people. Instead, I chug my beer, ignore the game, and try to busy myself in the kitchen with Jenna and Clem as they make lunch. But I can’t look at my roommate. If Clem finds out I screwed around with Jax, she’ll hate me. Isn’t that why I hated Ashley? Because she violated the roommate code. I’ve always honored those unspoken rules. Until now.
Damn it. Jenna just told me to stay away from Clem’s brother.
I fight back tears and excuse myself to run to the bathroom where I pull out my phone. There’s a message from Travis.
“Guess who I saw at the art lab? You’re going to die! And he asked about you…”
I ignore his question and start a mad flurry of texts. Two minutes later, my phone lights up.
“Oh! My! God! What are you going to do? Did you know he was Clem’s brother?”
I write back. “Of course I didn’t fucking know!”
Eventually I realize I can’t hide next to the toilet forever, and I open the door and peek down the hall. Everyone seems to be crowding in the living room. I step out slowly, wondering if I should bolt for the front door and never look back.
Someone’s arguing. I hear Clem’s voice. After a minute, I duck into the kitchen right as Clem races down the hallway to the back stairs. Jenna joins me, shaking her head.
She leans into me and lowers her voice. ”One of the guys said shit to Clem about her ex-boyfriend Daren who plays football at BC and was just on TV, talking about his fiancée. If you read her book, you’ll learn the whole story.” She motions toward the now empty hallway. “Clem’s dying that a room full of people heard the whole thing.”
That sucks.
“Do you need to go talk to her?” I ask.
“No, she’ll want to hide in a cave for a little while.” Good to know I’m not the only one who runs for cover. “I’ll give her half an hour, but once lunch is ready, I’m going to haul her ass back up here. My guess is she’s doing laundry right now. Or killing someone’s pet.”
Jenna laughs. I think she’s joking. I hope.
* * *
- Jax -
How do I know this girl?
My sister’s roommate stares at me like we’ve met, like we’re friends. Hell, like we’re more than friends. But all I draw is a blank.
Her expression is a cross between excitement, fear and horror. Yes, that’s what I do to women.
In sweats and a black t-shirt that hugs her small frame, she looks like she’s sixteen, especially since she’s not wearing makeup. But she’s beautiful. Delicate.
I start to worry that I slept with her in some drunken state, but nothing about Dani makes me think that’s possible. First of all, her tits aren’t hanging out like Christmas ornaments. Strike one. Secondly, she lives with Clem. Strike two. Thirdly, she looks too innocent to be interested in me. Strike three.
Nothing in that equation puts her even remotely in the fuckable category.
So then why do I have an immediate boner? And why does she keep looking at me like that?
Fuck. I rub my temple, the pounding nearly unbearable.
Concussions suck. The doctor said the headaches should go away within a week, but a week has gone by, and I’m still miserable.
I had to fucking scale Hannah’s balcony to get into her apartment. Or at least that’s what I’m told since I don’t remember any of it.
I leapt over the railing, something I’ve done all the other times she got locked out. Except this time I slipped, slammed my head on her grill and blacked out. Good thing the building manager arrived to unlock the door.
Chloe saw the whole thing through the sliding glass door, me wiping out. It scared the shit out of her. I woke up to her screams.
As it turns out, the soup Hannah left on the stove had burned to a crisp, so even though my coach thinks I got a concussion because I was out partying on my birthday, I know the truth.
And I’d do it again. Chloe reminds me of Clementine. It’s the way she looks at me like I can fix anything. It’s been years since my sister looked at me like that, and it sucks that we’ve grown apart. It’s my fault. I can’t do anything about it now, but when I look at little Chloe, it makes me want to protect her.
Of course, no good deed goes unpunished. I’m on probation because I had to miss several practices. Coach says one more screwup and I’m off the team.
Happy fucking birthday to me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
- Dani -
I spend the rest of the day avoiding Jax like he has the Ebola virus. After lunch, someone knocks on the front door, and an Amazonian-looking supermodel saunters in. She doesn’t bother telling anyone hi. Instead, she heads straight to Jax and drops into his lap, making a point to tongue him up in front of a room full of people.
The guys love the show, and they hoot and holler like she’s doling out free lap dances. Clem, who seems to have recovered from her earlier embarrassment, rolls her eyes and makes a gagging sound. I’m starting to like her more and more.
And, yeah, I’m painfully and ridiculously jealous.
On the way home, I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the seat. The purr of the car is strangely soothing. I can’t wait to get home so I can die an appropriate death alone. All I can think of is how he kissed that girl back and how his lips must have felt.
“Can you believe my brother?” Clem asks, breaking into my misery.
I stiffen immediately. I don’t think I’m in a position to say anything so I keep my mouth shut.
She continues without any encouragement. “Why can’t he grow up and stop being such a slut? That girl was skeevy.”
“I think I’ve seen her in a Calvin Klein ad,” Jenna says.
Ugh. That’s where I recognize her from.
If I ever thought there was a chance in hell he’d be interested in me, today shot down that delusion. Of course he loves bombshells. What guy doesn’t? I’m Midwest and corn-fed. She’s runway and underfed. She probably survives on two carrots and a twig a day.
Tears brim my eyes, and I blink them away quickly. I don’t know why I want to cry. I set out for a one-night hookup and that’s what I got. The problem is I know this guy, and I’ll probably have to see him around.
At least he goes to Boston College. That’s far enough away. It’s better than seeing him around campus. That’s another freakish twist of luck. On the night of his birthday, he was hanging out in BU territory. Under normal circumstances, our paths would probably never cross.