Right

by Jana Aston

  “He’s my brother’s best friend,” I reply. “He was always just around. It’s not like I was Googling him in grade school.”

  “Of course not,” he agrees. But I suspect by the tone of his voice that he does think I was Googling Finn long before I was old enough to walk home from the bus stop unattended.

  “Then you enrolled at the university that Finn just happened to be teaching at.” He winks at me when he says this and it riles me up. “Thousands of higher education choices in this country, and you choose Penn.”

  “It’s an Ivy League university, Sawyer,” I snap. “There are only eight of those.”

  “Agreed. Well done.”

  He pauses and I feel smug in my defense.

  “Where else did you apply?”

  Fuck.

  “Um, who can remember?” I stall and wind a strand of hair around my fingers. “College applications were so long ago, right?”

  He nods, quiet for a moment. “I applied to Brown, Cornell and Harvard. I was accepted to all three. I ended up at Harvard because they had the best rowing program.”

  Damn. Of course he’s a rower. I have a bit of a thing for rowers. Sophomore year I dated two of them. Not at the same time or anything. But still, it was a good year.

  “And as you pointed out, I’ve got a few years on you.”

  “A decade.”

  “It’s twelve years, if accuracy is important to you, Everly.”

  It’s not. I’m just stalling and he knows it.

  “So?” he prods.

  I give up. I don’t know how, but this guy has had my number since the moment we met. “Just Penn,” I admit. Penn is the only place I applied. I drop the hair I’ve been twirling. “You wouldn’t believe what I went through to get in though. I worked my ass off.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  This statement surprises me. I look at his face. He’s sincere. “Why?” The question slips out of my mouth before I realize I’m speaking. Why should I care what he thinks? Yet I’m interested despite myself. And the rowing. Why did he have to mention the rowing? Now I’m checking him out. I can’t make out too much under his blazer. It’s a nice coat. A charcoal wool he’s wearing over a white button-down and dark jeans. But the blazer is well made. Fitted. Likely custom based on the quality and the small amount of information I’ve gathered on this man. But I can see enough to know he’s still in great shape under that jacket. Not that I care.

  “I’m impressed at your tenacity. You set a goal and you achieved it.”

  “My goal is Finn,” I remind him.

  “Everly, we’ve already established that you haven’t been holding out exclusively for Professor Camden,” he says, his lip twitching. “Which tells me that while you envision him as the perfect man, you’ve kept your options open. It tells me that while you might have a vivid fantasy of the perfect happily ever after, you’re open”—he checks my response—“reluctantly, to being swept off your feet by someone other than Finn.”

  Well. I don’t know how to respond to that, so what comes out of my mouth is, “Maybe I’m just a nymphomaniac.”

  This car ride just went from bad to worse.

  “If you were a nymphomaniac you’d have given me a blowjob fifty miles ago.”

  “True,” I agree. Damn it! I just said that out loud. I bite my lip and side-eye him. He’s wearing a very satisfied smile.

  Ten

  Last Month

  “Let’s go!” I announce as I barge into Sophie’s dorm room. Sophie is my other best friend. We met two years ago when I started working at Grind Me, a coffee bar just off campus, and we forged an instant friendship.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  She knows exactly where we’re going. You make a girl a waxing appointment and they suddenly get amnesia. “You know where we’re going, Sophie. Your pubes are not going to wax themselves.”

  “Please never say the word ‘pubes’ again,” she says, but I ignore her. A good waxer is a godsend. She’ll thank me later.

  We exit her dorm and catch a bus at the nearest university bus stop. It’s a beautiful afternoon in Philadelphia. The air has that crisp fresh smell that only comes with fall. We find seats on the bus and I grin at Sophie. “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes! I told you I’m really not sure about this.”

  “Not about the waxing, nerd. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

  “Oh.” She bites her lip and thinks. “Not really.”

  Sophie is finally going to have sex tomorrow, hence our trip to the waxing salon. This girl has picked some real winners, but her current boyfriend Mike is a nice guy. I don’t think I’m wrong about him. He’s a bit of a spoiled rich kid, but he’s cute and he’s really into Sophie.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Sophie asks me as my phone beeps.

  “Going home.” I frown at my screen. “My brother is getting married.”

  “Oh! That sounds fun. Are you taking the train?”

  “I better not be taking the train.” I hit send on a new message.

  “Is someone driving down to pick you up?”

  “No.” I cross my legs and rest the phone on my thigh. “Professor Camden is driving me home.”

  “Really?” The doubt is written all over Sophie’s face. “Professor Camden is driving you to Connecticut?”

  I open my mouth to respond as my phone rings. I glance at the screen and smirk before breaking into a huge smile. “Yes, he is.” I bring the phone to my ear and answer, “Yes, Professor Camden?” in my sweet and innocent voice. It doesn’t get used a lot.

  He lectures me about scheming and threatens to tell my brother why he should not drive me home for the wedding before finally agreeing, as I knew he would. I’m feeling pretty good when I tell him I’ll be ready by eight, but then he ruins everything by asking me which dorm I live in. He should have such simple details about me memorized already. I sigh as I remind him that I live in Stroh and end the call to find Sophie looking at me with a face full of questions.

  “Finn Camden is my brother’s best friend. He’s also the best man in his wedding this weekend.” I shove the cell into my pocket. “He doesn’t want to drive me home, so I texted my brother and told him I was going to take the train into New York City and then out to Connecticut. At night. By myself.” I shrug. “Obviously the train is perfectly safe, but why should I take the train when Finn is going to the same place?” I can’t believe Finn was going to let me take the train. It’s disheartening, really. “I knew I could count on Eric to tell Finn to give me a ride home and that Finn couldn’t bring himself to tell my brother that he doesn’t want to be stuck in a car alone with me due to my”—I pause and roll my eyes—“inappropriate advances.”

  “Wow.” Sophie looks a little shocked.

  “Right? He’s being ridiculous. I don’t have that much time left.”

  “Time?”

  “Yeah. We graduate in seven months. I don’t have any reason to stay in Philly after that. This is the optimal time window in which to make him fall in love with me.” I pause, thinking. “Honestly, I could not have timed my brother’s wedding any better. It’s happening at the perfect time for me to advance my seduction of Finn.”

  “Um.”

  “He’s finally single,” I continue on. “I need him to accept us before he finds someone else and I graduate.”

  “Accept you?”

  “That last girlfriend, just no.” I shake my head. “He has no idea how much he’s going to appreciate me in comparison. I guess I should thank her for that. But I won’t.”

  Sophie crosses her legs and leans back on the bench seat. “Well, if anyone has the ability to force someone to fall in love with them, it’d be you, Everly Jensen.”

  Three Weeks Ago

  I survey the table. Perfect. Everything is set for dinner. Finn’s teaching a freshman-level Economics class right now, but he should be home just a few minutes after the lasagna is done. He loves lasagna. When he was a teenager he us
ed to love staying over for dinner when my mom made lasagna, so I nabbed her recipe when I was home last month for my brother’s wedding.

  So the table is set and Mom’s lasagna is in the oven. Laundry’s done and put away. And Steve, our new pet, is happily swimming in his bowl. Steve’s a big fat goldfish. I wanted to get a cat, but I’m not sure Finn’s apartment allows pets. Plus, a cat is really something we should decide on together as a couple. But a goldfish is a nice start. I’ve placed him in the center of the table, kinda like a centerpiece. It’s a little weird, maybe, but I thought he’d make a nice conversation piece over dinner. Finn can help me decide where his bowl should go permanently when he gets home.

  Now it’s time to make sure my housewife look is perfect too. I grab my bag and head into Finn’s bathroom. I cleaned that earlier, while the sheets were in the wash. Honestly, I’m so good to him. I pull out the retro apron I ordered on Etsy and tie it around my waist, over my sweater and jeans. The pink and white polka-dot sash is long enough to wrap around my waist and then tie in the front. The vintage floral print below the sash hangs in an A-line style and ends a few inches above my knees.

  My hair naturally lends itself to the look I’m going for today. It’s thick and almost black and I’ve styled it with extra volume and huge side swept bangs, like a picture I found of Brigitte Bardot. Next, makeup. I freshen up my face powder and reapply my lipstick. It’s light pink, to match my nails. I know it seems like I’d go for red, but I’m going for a retro sweetheart look today. Plus, I found the perfect pink nail polish to coordinate. I spent forever at the beauty store going through all the pinks. You know how they name the colors? The wrong name can ruin everything. I’m sure of it. So while I liked the shade of Suzi Shops & Island Hops, the name was all wrong. But then I found a pink called Mod About You. Perfect, right? It really sets the tone for the evening.

  Next I concentrate on my eyes. I watched a video on YouTube to get it just right, and I copy the look now, exaggerating the black eyeliner over my upper lid, into the perfect 1950’s sex kitten.

  I stash all my junk back into my bag and check on the lasagna. It’s a lot of work making lasagna. I can’t say it’s my thing really, but for Finn, it’s worth it. I’ve spent two weeks’ worth of spending money on groceries and the perfect outfit for this evening.

  I sigh in contentment. Everything’s perfect. I’m graduating in the spring and real life is about to start, exactly like I always planned it.

  The lock in the door turns and I blow out a breath as the door swings open, then plaster a sexy smile on my face.

  Finn walks in and he can’t miss me. His step falters for a minute, and I think he must be blown away by all the effort I’ve put into this and my smile widens.

  Then he closes the door behind him and sags against it.

  “Everly, how in the hell did you get in my apartment?”

  Twelve

  Present

  “Do you enjoy cooking, Everly?”

  “I live in a dorm room. I enjoy making microwave popcorn.” This guy and his getting-to-know-me agenda has no end in sight. “And just so you know, asking a woman you’re trying to seduce if she likes to cook is stupid.”

  “I love a good homemade lasagna myself,” he says. “I can’t remember the last time anyone made me lasagna though. It’s a lot of work.”

  Oh. My. God. I feel my face flush with humiliation and I drop my head into my hand. “He told you about that?” I ask from behind my hand.

  “Of course,” he replies. “Called me the second he kicked you out.”

  I groan.

  “That was a bold move on your part.”

  “It was crazy.”

  “Spirited.”

  I sigh and look out the passenger window. Breaking into Finn’s apartment and making dinner did not go as I planned. Oh, I planned on him kicking me out, and he did. But he didn’t even keep Steve. I mean, who can’t keep a goldfish?

  This entire fall has been a disaster, really. Starting with the car ride home from my brother’s wedding. I tried to sex-talk Finn in the car and he turned on the radio. But I’m an aggressive girl and Finn’s shy so I didn’t let it phase me. Nope. Instead I placed my hand on his thigh, and as I started to slide it up his leg, Finn finally spoke.

  He said no.

  No, Everly. I deflate just thinking of it. No, Everly, just no.

  I snatched my hand back, mortified. I’d never been turned down before. In my experience guys have enjoyed being pursued. Appreciated it, even. Maybe it would be nice to let the guy make the first move, but there’s a lot of competition for the good ones. If you don’t get aggressive and make things happen, some other girl snaps him up while you’re sitting around waiting for an invitation. It’s exhausting. And sure, it would be nice to be wooed, but it’s not realistic. Especially in college. These boys are lazy.

  So Finn shocked me speechless when he rejected me in the car. But then he glanced at me and smiled. “You’re like a sister to me, Everly.”

  “I’m not your sister,” I quickly interjected, and he just shook his head, saying it was against university policy. “You’re not my teacher,” I argued, desperate for a lifeline. But he just said it was a bad idea and ended the conversation.

  Any other girl would have given up then. But not me. I’m not a quitter. I was prepared to wait until the spring semester to make my next move, but then I stopped by his office to find his trampy teaching assistant perched on his desk and I had to restrategize. There’s no way I’m letting her sink her troll claws into him. Not on my watch.

  So I used one of the keys I’d had made during my brother’s wedding weekend to break into his apartment a few weeks ago. I’d made three copies of his house key when he’d asked me to move his car during the rehearsal dinner. I mean, who wouldn’t? There was a hardware store right across the street. It seemed like fate, don’t you think? And I swear Finn winked at me when he asked me to move his car. I swear it. So I moved the car and made three copies of his house key. Because I assumed he’d know I’d made multiple copies. What kind of an idiot steals someone’s keys and only makes one copy?

  But… he only asked for his key back. I remember standing in his hallway in shock. I’d had it all planned out. He’d smile at me and ask for the keys back. I’d give him two copies but I’d still have the third for the next time I wanted to break in. But it never even occurred to him that I’d made more than one copy. It was like he didn’t know me at all.

  I stood there, alone in the hallway, befuddled and questioning everything, when the door swung back open. My hopes lifted.

  Then he shoved the goldfish bowl into my hands and said, “Take this with you.”

  I was halfway through saying, “His name is Steve,” when the door shut in my face.

  Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk home carrying a goldfish bowl? I mean, I got him there in one of those plastic bags filled with water that they sell them to you in. But I didn’t have the bag anymore. Just Steve sloshing around in his bowl, judging me.

  “I think you showed remarkable restraint,” Sawyer says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  I shift in my seat and take a good look at him. “You do?”

  “Absolutely. You could have shown up with a kitten. Or a dog.”

  “I thought about it,” I admit, examining my manicure. My nails are painted Sole Mate purple. I selected the color in anticipation of bumping into Finn this weekend. “But I wasn’t sure his apartment allowed pets.”

  “See, you’re always thinking, Everly. I like that about you.”

  I shrug. “Can we be done talking now?”

  “Oh, did you want your phone back?”

  “Yes.” I turn my head. “Can I have it?” Maybe he’s finally going to shut up.

  “Nope.”

  I groan and flop back in my seat while he laughs.

  “I can’t believe Finn didn’t ask for the rest of the keys back.”

  “What?” That’s got my attention. How could
he possibly know about the keys?

  “When Finn called me I asked him if he’d gotten the keys back. He said, yeah, he got his key back, but I insisted you’d made more than one. I said, ‘Finn, trust me on this. That girl’”—he winks at me, like he totally gets it—“‘Everly would have made more than one copy.’” He glances at my face a beat. “My money’s on three.”

  Thirteen

  Four hours ago

  “The game starts in ten minutes!” Dad says before taking a bite of his infamous leftover turkey sandwich. It’s a concoction of turkey, stuffing and cranberry sauce on toasted bread and he looks forward to it all year long.

  “Are we watching the Eagles or the Giants today?” I ask as the front door swings open and my brother Eric walks in with his new wife Erin. They’ve been married just under a month and they’re perfect together, just like my parents.

  He met her two years ago on a flight to Chicago. Yup, the whole ‘sat on a plane next to each other and fell in love’ scenario. He was traveling on business. She was traveling to attend a bridal shower for a friend. Three months later he was her date to that friend’s wedding. Six months after that they were engaged themselves.

  Our parents adore her. Everyone adores her, myself included. Eric and Erin just fit together. Like two peas in a pod. Peanut butter and jelly. Two halves of a whole. You get the idea. We’ve all seen that couple. Solid. Supportive. Their relationship reminds me of my parents’. Totally in sync. I want that too. And Finn Camden is a perfect fit. Steady. Reliable. He’s a forever kind of guy.

  Eric greets me with, “Hey, trouble,” before noticing Dad’s sandwich and making a dive for the other half.

  “We got the wedding photos back.” Erin’s clutching a giant album to her chest. “Your mom wanted to go over them with us.”

  “With you, honey,” Eric interrupts. “That’s a wife job. No one needs me for this.”

  “A wife job?” I ask, brow raised. But Eric and Erin just exchange smiles while I utter, “Never mind, I don’t even want to know.”