She wrinkles her nose. “Dating? Who said anything about dating? I’m just talking about casual sex. Trent is a nice guy. I know he’d treat you well, and as a bonus, you’d get over Smit the fun way.”
“I don’t want to get over him.”
“But he’s over you.”
Her words slice through me like a hot knife through butter. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”
“Has he called you?”
“No.”
“Has he tweeted you?”
“He doesn’t tweet.”
“Facebook?”
I shake my head. “Maybe he lost his phone?”
She rolls her eyes. “Babe, we live in a wired world. There are a million ways he could contact you. If you haven’t heard from him, you’re not going to. I’m sorry.”
I cover my face in case I have another meltdown. “I’m not going to sleep with some random guy just to please you.”
“But he’s not random,” she giggles. “He’s Trent from work.”
I look at her through my fingers. “For me to have sex with someone, I’ve got to love them. And if you think that’s old fashioned or silly, well, too bad, ‘cause that’s just the way I feel.”
“Aw, babe.” She leans forward, pulling my hands from my face. “What am I going to do with you? All I want is for you to be happy, promise.”
“And you thought sex with a stranger would be the cure?”
She shrugs. “Guess I thought wrong, sorry. But …”
“No buts.”
“But,” she pauses, giving me a huge smile. “If you change your mind … I won’t judge you. No one needs to know about this, especially your parents.”
“It’s not about my parents; it’s about my heart. I still love Hugo, and until that feeling goes away, I can’t move on.”
She looks at me like I’m some sort of extinct animal. “Aw sweetie, you’re so adorable. How can I make things better?”
“Just be here for me.”
“Done.” She smiles, wrapping her arms around me. “Whenever you want to talk, or cry or even get drunk and sleep with randoms—”
I exhale, letting a giggle slip out. “Like Trent?”
“Exactly,” she laughs, squeezing me tightly “I’ll be here for you, one hundred percent.”
FOUR
Two weeks later…
“How’s it going, honey? I didn’t expect you to call so soon. What a lovely surprise.”
I twist in Mel’s red leather seat, curling my legs up and under my butt. “Okay,” I mumble. There is an awkward silence, and I know she knows I’m lying through my teeth.
“Laura Hemsworth.” Her voice is full of musical laughter, and I can just picture her round, smiling face. “Do I need to sing you the daisy song? You know it will cheer you up.”
I snort through my nose. “No, Mom—gawd, please don’t. It’s bad enough that my car is yellow and painted in daisies. I don’t need to hear the song.”
“Are you sure?” she coos. “You know it always cheered you up.”
“Not today,” I whine. “Please. The thought of it is making my head ache.”
“Oh, I see,” she titters. “Looks like the big city is already changing our little poppet.”
I sigh, my eyes drifting across my bedroom. “I miss you both very much. It’s just so different here. So big, so busy, so un-hippie.”
“Laura Hemsworth! We’re not hippies, and you know you can always come home. We just thought it would be good for you to get away from it all.”
I fiddle with the hem of my blue summer dress. When she says all, she’s meaning Hugo. Hugo stupid Smit. He took my heart and broke it without a care in the world. I thought he was gonna be my forever love. But I guess I was kidding myself. He was my first love, not my forever love. Everyone thought we were going to have the happily ever after. We were high school sweethearts, after all. Perfect in every way, until she came along with her stupid flute.
“Are you getting along with everyone at college? Any cute boys?”
“Mom,” I groan, stamping my foot ever so slightly into the carpet. “I’m twenty-two, not twelve. Don’t start with me, please?”
She chuckles softly, and I close my eyes, almost smelling the wafts from the amazing apple crumble she used to bake when I was sad.
I rub my fingers over my temples, their sudden ache mirroring my heart. “I just miss you both, that’s all. A lot. Sorry for the attitude.”
“It’s okay, honey, I know,” she whispers. “Now, please don’t make me tear up. Your father’s going to be so sad he missed your call. Anytime you want to come home, you just jump in Daisy, and she’ll keep you safe.”
I can’t help but groan as I stare out my bedroom window and see another person point and gawk at the hunk of yellow metal. “I don’t know if the daisies are going to stay.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No one has a car like this here, Mom. Everyone’s car is black and exotic.”
“Exotic?” she chuckles. “Well, Laura, you’re not everyone, are you, now? And that’s something to be very proud of.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I guess. Say hey to Dad from me. I’ve got to go.”
“Love you.”
My chin starts to shake, and I just about lose it. Damn it. I never thought I’d be this homesick. I hang up the phone and stare out the window. How is it possible to feel this alone in a city of over eight million people?
FIVE
I’ve been here for two months now, but it feels like much longer. As for Hugo? I still haven’t heard from him. I don’t get how we could have gone from everything to nothing in a millisecond, but somehow, we have. And honestly, it’s killing me inside. I’ve tried calling him, but he hasn’t picked up. And I don’t want to leave a message in case I sob on the phone like a two-year-old. I don’t even know why I’m calling him. Habit, I guess. The thought of instant familiarity is somehow soothing to me, even if it’s no longer real.
Everyone at college is nice enough. Really different from my normal “crowd,” but fun, all the same. There’s this one guy—Bodhi. I can’t think of a way to describe him other than fun. Every time I’m around him, he makes my belly hurt ‘cause I laugh so much. He’s almost child like in the way he behaves around campus. Fun-loving, a little obnoxious, and his head is covered in the reddest hair I’ve ever seen. Fire engine red—it practically glows it’s so bright. And although I’d never tell him, I do like him a lot. Not in a romantic way, but in a “you’re like the brother I never had” way. Each day, he somehow manages to keep my monkey mind entertained, and I’m grateful for it, even if it only gives me a few minutes’ peace.
Although I’m struggling to concentrate in my classes, I’m still getting good grades, which is something, I guess. I haven’t told my parents, but I’ve actually decided I’m only going to take music classes for the rest of the year. I can’t think straight to do anything else. And if I force myself, I know I’ll fail.
I’ve taken to sitting right at the back of the lecture theatre. Not because I’m trying to be a rebel or anything like that, but because I don’t want to be singled out by the professor. I guess I kinda figure he won’t notice me as much if I’m way back here. I’ve never liked being the center of attention. I think if you do, you’re born that way. I can’t imagine ever being like Mel, and she’s been like that for as long as I can remember.
The professor has already been rambling on for over fifteen minutes, and I’m seriously wondering why I even bothered coming. I’ve been stuck here all day, carrying my stupid cello around on my back and short of chucking it into the stream that runs through the middle of campus. All I want to do is go home and throw this giant block of wood into the corner of the room. I lean forward, resting my head on my hands; my eyelids are so tired. It’s just been such a long, boring day…
Bang.
My eyes fly open, and my spine straightens like a ruler. Holy crap, it can’t be. I look at the guy standing in
the doorway and rub my eyes to try and wake up. I must be still asleep, but I know I’m not. Instantly, I know who he is. I could never forget that face—even though it feels like forever since I saw him. But there he is—right in front of me, and he’s even better-looking than I remember. He’s wearing a scruffy navy t-shirt pulled down over his muscular body, and today, he’s wearing shoes, but he’s still got the whole ripped-jeans thing going on.
I gulp as I drink him in. Damn, I need to pull myself together, but oh wow, he’s so tasty. And I can’t be the only one who thinks that, ‘cause muffled giggles are filling the stuffy air. So much so, that the professor is naff enough to shush the room. Like that’s gonna make a difference—puh-lease!
“Mr. Ashton. How lovely of you to bother joining us.”
Climber’s dark, dirty laughter cuts through the air like it did the first time I saw him. And without a word of apology to encyclopedia, he walks towards the back of the room. My heartbeat is thumping so fast it feels like it’s about to explode! Surely he’s not gonna sit next to me? There are hundreds of empty seats dotted all over the place, and he could sit in any one of them. But as he gets closer and closer, I realize my fears are coming true.
“Hey.”
I swallow hard, pushing my long, dark hair out of my face. “There’s, like, a heap of empty seats all over the theatre,” I mumble, “and yet you choose to walk all this way and sit down next to me. Why?”
He shrugs. Great. Now I’m bright red. Red as Dorothy’s shoes but not in a magical way. Crap no, in a horrifyingly horrid way. I want to die. Everyone is turning around and staring at him. And me. Urgh, please tell me this is some sort of horrid nightmare. I can’t stand being in the limelight, or any light, for that matter.
Professor clears his throat. “Are you sorted, Mr. Ashton? Shall we continue?”
He sniggers at old crust-a-lot. “Knock yourself out.”
I let out a squeal of a giggle. Climber doesn’t care … about anything. Wonder what it’s like to be like that? Professor looks over his metal-rimmed glasses and gives him a good old glare. “I don’t think I’ll be knocking myself out.”
Climber smirks at me, watching as my face burns up with total embarrassment. He leans into my ear, his cool minty breath touching my skin, and I swear I just about lose it.
“It’s pretty hot in here, huh? Do you want a drink, baby?”
I slide down into my seat, not daring to look at him. If I do, I’ll either pass out, giggle, or pee myself. So not sexy. And even though I could do with a drink, I’m just gonna ignore him. Right now, it’s the only defense I’ve got.
The lecture drags on for what feels like hours. I can’t help but watch the clock. Something about Climber makes me want to climb on top of him. Straddle him in the back of class and not give a damn who watches. But I’m not that kinda girl, and I’d probably get my foot stuck or something.
As soon as the professor stops his blabbing for the day, I slip out of my seat and chuck all my stuff into my bag without wasting a moment. You’d think there was a fire in the building I’m so desperate to get away from Climber.
“I’m not that bad, am I?” He chuckles, his eyes running over my body.
I chew down onto my lip, trying to avoid his gaze. “No, um,” I stammer, “I’ve just got to be somewhere, that’s all.”
“If you say so,” he smiles, stretching his arms up and resting them behind his head. “So it’s got nothing to do with me?”
I squeal. Like a freaking piglet. OMG, why can’t I just be cool? It’s got everything to do with him. He is perfection in human form. And he knows I know it. But now he’s not saying anything, and neither am I. My throat is dry, and it’s like my feet are stuck to the ground, ‘cause for some reason, I can’t walk away. My body feels like it’s sinking in concrete, and that’s before I’ve even picked up my cello.
He chuckles as I squirm in front of him. “I forgive you.”
“Huh?” I distort my face, groaning as I heave the giant instrument across my back. “I’ve got to go.”
He shrugs, “By the way, the name’s Tom.”
Tom. Gawd. It’s perfect. Tom Ashton. Mr. and Mrs. Tommy Ashton. “Okay,” I chew down on my lip, wishing it were his. “See ya.”
“Aren’t you gonna tell me yours?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Fair enough,” he sniggers. “But I’m not as bad ass as the professor would have you believe.”
“It’s not ‘cause of that. I’m just here to focus on my studies.”
He chuckles. “Nice. Okay, then. Sorry if you thought giving me your name was going to wreck your chances of furthering your career and ultimately fuck up your entire future.”
I’m blushing again. I can feel my cheeks burning up like he’s got a match in his hand. Shit. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“So what did you mean?” He raises his brow. “It’s just a name. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I stammer, looking over my shoulder. Great, now we’re the only ones left, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me.
“So what is it then?” He smirks, his piercing grey eyes locking with mine.
I exhale, firmly pursing my lips together.
“You don’t remember your own name? Surely you’re too young for dementia to have set in.” He chuckles, his beautiful eyes sparkling under the florescent lights. He’s so persistent. I don’t know if I like that. It’s unsettling. I pick up my bag and head towards the door.
“Well?”
I must have lost my mind, but I can’t ignore him. He’s too … gorgeous. I turn, and he tosses me a grin that just about makes me want to burn all my books.
“Geez.” I exhale, throwing my arms in the air. “It’s Laura. Happy?”
He leans back into his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Ra. Nice.”
“No.” I put my hands on my hips. “Lau-ra.”
He smirks. “Nah, you’re definitely a Ra. So I’m gonna go with that.”
I frown. “You’re impossible, Tom. That’s what you are. No wonder Dr. Pritchard doesn’t like you.”
“He’s old.” The edge of Climber’s lip lifts ever so slightly. “Old people don’t like anyone; they’ve been around too long. Seen too much of life—they’re fed up with everything. I don’t take it personally; they can’t help that they’re expired and wrinkly.”
Another high-pitched squeal shoots out of my mouth. I don’t know if it’s a giggle or a noise of surrender. I’m not sure why I even did it; he makes me do strange things. God, he’s annoying. Annoyingly hot. And … oh so darn irritating.
I turn back around and start to walk out the doorway. The sooner I get away from him, the sooner I can splash my face with water and try to cool the hell down. The way he makes me heat up is super-concerning. I mean, I may have to see someone about it. This can’t be normal. I never felt like this around Hugo. Never, ever.
“Oh, and Ra?” he calls after me.
I stop in my tracks, but don’t bother turning. I can’t bear to look at him again. If I risk taking another look into his storm-cloud eyes, I may cry at their beauty. And that would just be dumb.
“Ra?”
I exhale. Please, darn it. Just let me walk away. “What?” I groan, crossing my arms in pointless protest.
“Call me Ash.”
Tom Ashton. Ash. Now it all makes perfect sense. His eyes are just like ash. Silvery, beautiful, smoldering ash. I bite down on my lip, the feeling of his gaze on my body sends chills across my skin. I’ve never wanted to cover myself in ash before, but now that’s all I want to do. Roll around in Ash, taste Ash, feel the texture of Ash against me. God this is bad. So bad. Without a word, I scurry outside into the fresh afternoon breeze.
“Miss Hemsworth? Can I speak with you for a moment?”
I blink, looking across the grassy campus for whoever called my name so formally. “Dr. Pritchard?” I squint, trying to cover my eyes from the glaring sun
as I walk towards the disgruntled-looking man. “Hi. Look, um I’m sorry about laughing before in class. I was just nervous; it had nothing to do with you. I’m sorry I was so rude. It won’t happen again.”
“Do you know Mr. Ashton?”
Know him? Nope, I don’t know him. Do I want to know every inch of him? Yes. But do I? No. I mean, come on, I was bright red the moment he sat down next to me. And everyone saw it. I mean, really, did it really look like I know him?
“Well?”
I clear my throat. I don’t get the sudden interrogation. Up until now, Dr. Pritchard has hardly said a word to me. “No, I don’t know him. Well, I’ve seen him before, but I don’t know him.”
Urban Climber Page 3