Becoming Us: Where It All Began.

by Amy Daws

***

  When I settle in for bed, I know deep down that Jake won’t be calling for our nightly chat. I can’t help but miss it. I had grown used to it. I don’t miss the angst of trying to progress a friendship into a relationship though. That was hell on earth. And Jake’s lack of contact all day just further reinforces the notion that he doesn’t care about me and I need to get over him. Maybe I should feel grateful that he’s allowing our friendship to end, otherwise I would probably just continue pining for him and suffering in silence. I need to be done with him and have a clean break so I can properly move on. Never mind the enormous humiliation of other people knowing I have these major unrequited feelings for Jake. Who needs pride anyway?

  I wake up early the next morning, tossing and turning in my bed for a good hour, nervous Jake might show up to get coffee. When it’s well past eight, I find the courage to get up. I patter out into the kitchen where Angela is spreading peanut butter on her toast.

  “Morning,” she says, head nodding at me.

  “Hey,” I reply, feeling uneasy and a bit mopey. “I think I’m going to skip class today.” I pout my lip out dramatically.

  “This is the day you have class with him?”

  “Yeah.” I sit up on the counter and take a bite of her toast.

  “Stop being a pussy and go to class. I thought you had a quiz!” She looks at me sternly, waiting for me to dispute it. “You’re better than that, Finley,” she admonishes.

  “Jeez, thanks for being so understanding,” I mumble around a bite of toast.

  “I’m not going to placate you on this one. He’s an idiot, that’s established. Your education shouldn’t suffer for it.”

  “I hardly think my education is going to suffer for missing one little quiz.”

  She rolls her eyes. In defiance, I decide to go get my cup of coffee, Jake be damned.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I walk out of my apartment, frustrated at Angela and in desperate need of air. Even though I don’t care if he and Olivia start dating, it irks me that he’s icing me out when I did nothing wrong. I mean, if he genuinely didn’t have any feelings for me, why the silence? I kick a rock, angry that I keep tormenting myself over what Jake is thinking and why we’re no longer speaking.

  A sick feeling rolls over me as I think about the fact that the whole basketball team probably knows. And now that we’re not ending up together, like they all assumed we would—I look like a total chump. Why did I have to have a class with him? This is hell. I’m in college hell. And I’m a senior for Christ’s sake—I should be beyond this sophomoric drama.

  I look up when I hear a door slam from across the parking lot and see a guy rushing down the steps of an upper-level apartment that sits kiddy-corner from my building. My eyebrows knit together as he pads across the concrete, straight toward me.

  He looks slightly familiar. I’ve seen him in the computer lab before but I’ve never spoken to him. I look him up and down and feel annoyed at his cuteness. Honestly, that’s how I feel right now. I’m annoyed. I don’t need another cute guy clouding my psyche.

  “Hey,” he says, looking up at me and holding a half-empty black trash bag.

  “Um, hi,” I reply, figuring he’s going to ask me where the dumpster is.

  “You’re Finley, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I reply with a surprised expression.

  I try my damndest to ignore the sudden stirring in my abdomen. This guy has somehow managed to pull off comfortably sexy. I didn’t even know those two words could go together, but I’ll be damned. I mentally restrain myself from rolling my eyes at the cruelty of the universe.

  He looks down, nervously. He’s wearing a loose pair of black athletic shorts and a white t-shirt that shows a nicely sculpted body underneath. I can see the outlines of his pecks through his shirt and I instantly want to see more. Jesus, Finley, get a grip on yourself. I’m impressed I’m even noticing him, with all the drama swirling in my head.

  My eyes continue traveling downward and I see that he’s barefoot. My perusal is momentarily distracted as I think about the nasty things that go down in this parking lot. Wearing no shoes is simply not safe.

  “You work in the computer lab, right? In the business building?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

  “Yeah, in the business building,” I answer, and silently curse myself because he just said business building. I eye his dark brown hair that has a natural curl to it. It’s cut short on the sides with the top left slightly longer—long enough to comb my fingers through and yank on. Whoa, where did that thought come from?

  I attempt to continue walking, but my feet are completely ignoring me as I take in his expression. The corners of his mouth are turned down like he’s trying to contain a laugh. It’s sexy as hell. Despite myself, I smirk back at him. I can’t help it. That look on his face is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It makes him look truly adorable. I’m suddenly feeling the urge to figure out more about this guy.

  “You live here?” he asks, changing hands with his garbage bag.

  “Yep, that building.” I turn around and gesture back behind me, half-heartedly.

  “I just moved here this semester. My friend Mark’s roommate bailed on him, so he needed someone to fill the space.”

  “That explains why I haven’t seen you here,” I reply, fidgeting with the hem of my sweatshirt. I wish this guy would just get on with whatever he’s after. His eyes follow my hands down to the invisible spec I’m picking at on my shirt, and then shoot back up to my face.

  “I’ve seen you in the lab. I’m a business major—construction management. I’m graduating this spring. You?”

  “Yeah, I’m a senior too. Marketing major. I actually don’t have any classes in the business building this semester. I just work there.”

  “I figured out your name ‘cause that one chick—the foreign one—is always yelling at you and stuff.” He turns away and bites his tongue, appearing displeased with what he just said.

  I laugh at his candid comment. It feels good to laugh. His expression brightens. “Her name is Parni. Yeah, we pretty much have a hate-hate relationship. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m the bane of her existence.”

  He does it again. That concealed laughter face. It’s really freaking sexy. I get a good look at his eyes and have to take a big gulp of air to calm myself. They are a gorgeous shade of navy blue with different hue intensities sprinkled throughout. They remind me of a really great pair of dark denim wash jeans. His eyes turn serious for a second as he catches me staring intently. I look away biting my lip, feeling foolish for ogling him.

  “Where are you headed?” he asks, and I see a twinge of nervousness fleet over his face.

  What is this guy after? I wish he’d just come out with it. “Do you need help with your computer or something, ‘cause I know nothing about them—I just have to sit there.”

  His chest rumbles with laughter. “Why would you think that?” he asks, looking confused.

  I shrug my shoulders, unsure how to answer that without sounding like a sullen idiot.

  “Um, I’m going to Chaz’s to grab a coffee or something. Honestly, my roommate was just driving me nuts,” I offer with a shoulder shrug.

  “I know how that feels. Mind if I go with you?” he asks.

  I glance down at his feet, and as I look back up, my eyes collide into his sheepish smile. Another adorable look I wouldn’t mind seeing over and over. Honestly, those eyes, his dark curly hair, and his creamy complexion are making one delicious package. How have I never noticed this guy?

  “Yeah, I, uh, should probably go grab some shoes.” He gestures for me to follow him and I can’t help myself. I follow.

  “You should probably never come out here barefoot again. Wildwood lives up to its name. Who knows what’s out here in this nasty parking lot,” I say, as we begin climbing the steps up toward his apartment.

  He laughs softly and glances at me over his shoulder. His lips are pursed off to on
e side like he’s thinking about something really hard.

  “What?” I ask curiously.

  “Telling you this probably totally ruins my cool factor,” he says, cutting into my internal monologue of me warring with myself over getting away from this guy before I’m disappointed again. “But I’ve never been one to care about that stuff—or been cool, for that matter.”

  “What?” I ask, giggling. Gosh, this guy is such a breath of fresh air after the week I’ve had. Maybe he’s not a total dick.

  As we reach the top step, he stops and twirls on his heel, preventing me from ascending any higher. “I saw you out the window and didn’t want to miss a chance to talk to you, so I grabbed the trash and rushed out here, like a barefooted moron, to catch you before you were gone again.”

  I laugh, doubtfully. “Why wouldn’t you just talk to me in the computer lab?”

  “You can hear a pin drop in that place! I hear every snotty thing that Pariah girl says to you, I don’t need an audience when I’m trying to put the moves on a beautiful girl.”

  Beautiful girl screams over and over in my head, in that wonderfully warm tone of voice he has. I look down because I can’t handle the intensely honest words he’s just dropped on me. Not to mention, he has this adorable freckle below his left eye that somehow magnifies his sexiness. I fumble with the strings on my hoodie. That’s a good activity for me right now.

  “What?” he asks, laughing nervously.

  “I just can’t believe you’re so up front about this.” I look up into his curious gaze and hear skeptical disbelief laced in my tone.

  “About you being beautiful?”

  “Just, that…I don’t. Jeez, don’t make me say it!” I laugh, feeling agitated. I twist to the right and grab the railing for balance, to avoid eye contact.

  “Um, I’m pretty sure I’m the idiot who just may have given myself hepatitis running out into a vile parking lot barefoot, so if you could even the score in any way, I would maybe feel like I got part of my man card back.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just being honest about…being interested in me, I guess. Unless I got this all wrong. If you just wanted to hang out, be friends or something, that’s cool too!” I say, looking down and shoving my hands into my front pouch trying to fake indifference. I can’t believe what’s coming out of my mouth right now. How weak and pathetic am I, sitting here, blabbing about being friends? Once upon a time, I was just fine with being friends with a guy. This Jake stuff has thrown me all out of whack. But there is something about this guy that feels like I need more.

  “Finley.” He says my name so beautifully I can’t help but look up. Even his voice is desirable. He moves in closer to me and pulls on one of the strings of my hoodie, pinching it between his thumb and index finger. His close proximity has my shield crumbling in nanoseconds. “I am interested in you,” he finishes, staring deeply into my eyes with his gorgeous dark blue ones. “So let’s just get that straight in your beautiful head right now.”

  My heart plummets. My lungs finally gasp for breath again, and I compose myself. “Okay then,” I reply, the corners of my mouth turning down smugly.

  He shakes his head and chuckles. “I risked hepatitis, or tetanus at the very least, so I wouldn’t miss my chance to talk to you. That’s definitely not something I would do just to make a new friend. I have enough friends.”

  He pulls away and turns to jog across the landing. He disappears inside his apartment door and reemerges a moment later, wearing a pair of sandals.

  “What happened to your trash bag?” I ask, my eyebrows pulling downward.

  “It was empty! I told you I just needed an excuse,” he says, laughing. “Now I’m just giving you the real Brody.”

  Brody. I just realized I never cared to ask his name in our whole conversation. As far as I’m concerned, I could just call him Sexy Blue Eyes.

  “Real Brody…” I nod. “Works for me.”

  He gently nudges my shoulder with his and we continue walking to Chaz’s. Can this guy be real? He’s so up front and honest about his feelings. It’s definitely a huge change of pace from what I’ve been dealing with.

  “So, what’s the deal with this Chaz? Everyone talks about him. Have you ever met him?”

  “Nope. Never. I know most of the counter clerks, but I’ve actually never seen Chaz.”

  “Interesting. Maybe we can invent a cool backstory for him. Something to get the rumors at Wildwood going.” He lifts his eyebrows flirtatiously.

  “Wildwood doesn’t need any help starting rumors. This place is a glorified high school.”

  I groan internally at the thought of Brody hearing about the drama of Wednesday night with Jake and Olivia.

  He chuckles softly.

  “So, what’s your story, Finley? Where are you from? What are your future plans?” he asks gently, squeezing my arm and dropping his hand down as we walk.

  “I’m from Marshall, Missouri. Small town. I have a pretty cool family. Mom’s a little high-strung at times, but cool. Dad’s great. I’m really close to my sister, Cadence…and my two nieces.”

  “Plans after graduation?”

  “Um, I kind of already have a job lined up in Kansas City. I had a really sweet internship opportunity last semester and hit it off really well with the creative director for an ad agency. I’ve been doing some freelance work for her this summer—and she’s happy with it, I guess. She says I’m hired as soon as I graduate.”

  “Damn! Nailed it!” Brody says, with his eyebrows raised in admiration.

  “I don’t know…Val and I just seemed to click. She said she’s been hiring interns for years and never met one like me. I just networked, is all.”

  “That’s awesome. I have an internship lined up for next semester in KC too. I’m praying like crazy it turns into a job, because the timing would rock.”

  “Where are you from?” I ask, as we reach Chaz’s front door.

  Brody holds the door open for me, and says, “Topeka, actually.”

  I nod and smile, glancing inside. I’m suddenly frozen in place—stuck in a metaphorical mud, right in front of Alex at the counter. Jake is at the fountain pop machine. Crap, crap, crap! I do not need this! It’s way later than our usual time. What the hell is he doing here?

  Brody walks past me and looks back at my frozen state, his brow furrowed. “What’s up?” he asks, taking in my alarmed expression.

  “Nothing!” I reply, a bit too brightly. “Just trying to decide what I want to drink.”

  “I gotta grab milk,” Brody says.

  I try desperately to focus on his face, but I see Jake’s eyes land on me. A look of discomfort instantly shadows his face.

  “Milk’s a weird choice,” I reply, shoving Brody toward the aisle farthest away from Jake, which is conveniently where the milk is.

  “Yeah, Mark told me to grab some ‘cause we’re out. Dude has to have his milk,” he replies, glancing down at my hand still placed on his arm. I nod nervously, and release my grasp on his firmly-sculpted tricep. I look over my shoulder and about shit my pants when I see Jake standing right behind me.

  “Jake!” I screech.

  “Hey, Finley,” he says in his familiar southern drawl. His voice sounds all wrong. Pained…pinched…different.

  Brody turns around and they both exchange quick head nods. Jake is just a bit taller than Brody, but not by much. I’m certain Brody’s a good four inches taller than me.

  “Didn’t know if I’d see you today,” Jake says, looking into my eyes with an edge of uneasiness.

  “I’ve been where I always am,” I reply, coolly pursing my lips together and trying desperately to come off emotionless. I glance nervously at Brody and he seems intrigued by the current exchange.

  “I was wondering if things were…” he pauses briefly, squints his eyes at Brody, and then looks down at me broodingly.

  Confused at his expression, I reply, “Things are good. Thanks Jake. Anyways, I’m gonna grab a bottle of pop.” No more dam
n coffee! All it makes me think of is Jake now anyways.

  I shoulder through the two guys, feeling claustrophobic, and suddenly overwhelmed with anger. I reach the pop cooler and open the door allowing the cold air to blast my senses for a moment. Damn, I’m so pissed at Jake, but I know there’s nothing I can say. Jake never made me any promises. But he also didn’t have to just stop talking to me after the Olivia fiasco two nights ago. Now he’s here trying to say something. Frustrating.

  I grab a 20-ounce pop out of the cooler and hear the bell toll. I look up to see Jake’s backside as he exits Chaz’s. I sigh with relief, and jump when I glance to my right and see Brody standing next to me with a gallon of milk in hand. How do these hot men keep sneaking up on me?

  “You good?” he asks, his eyes trained seriously on me.

  I sigh again, “Yes, I’m good. I’m fine. Sorry.” I grip the lid on my pop bottle and smile. He doesn’t appear to believe it, but he lets it go for now.

  We pay for our beverages and exit Chaz’s. The walk back to our apartment is awkwardly quiet.

  Brody exhales a frustrated sigh, stops and turns to me, “Look, I don’t know what changed from now to the way here, but I don’t care. I’d like to take you on a date, Finley. Would you like that?” He looks up at me with a scowl.

  “Yes! I’d love that. Stop frowning!” I say without thinking. His face instantly relaxes and my stomach does a flip as he fights away a smile.

  “Bossy much?” he half-smiles cockily.

  “Not bossy, just don’t like you asking me out with a frown, I guess,” I reply, incredulously.

  “Fair enough. So, yes then? A date?” he asks again, a little softer this time.

  I nod and smile. “Yes. A date.”

  “Tomorrow night?” he reaches up and brushes a loose strand of my brown hair off my shoulder. His fingers barely graze my neck and I shiver in response, impressed with the reaction my body is having to his touch.

  “I can do that,” I rasp out, and clear my throat quickly. I conceal a smirk and he mirrors my expression.

  He walks me back to my apartment. The silence isn’t awkward this time. It’s charged with something much more exciting and exhilarating. Can this really be this easy? In one single meeting with Brody, things feel so different. With Jake, I was constantly making moves to his counter moves. I was the driver, doing everything I could to push the relationship in the direction I wanted it to go. With Brody, I feel more like a passenger—and I like it.