“Last week, huh?” I tilted forward as I studied his eyes, and clapped my bread and cup together. “You’re really hot. Go, me.”
He huffed out a laugh, his expression morphing into something other than the heated look he’d been giving me. He looked confused and kind of shocked. I didn’t blame him—I’d already been mauled by the guy from the coffee shop about an hour ago, and now there was this guy in front of me. I was beginning to wonder how many more guys I’d run into tonight who I’d been hooking up with over the past couple of months. Even through the haze of my drunken mind, I was disgusted with myself.
I wasn’t this girl, never had been. I’d lost my virginity to Dean and had planned on being with him forever. Multiple partners weren’t my thing. Drunken hookups weren’t my thing. Actually . . . getting drunk at all wasn’t my thing.
And now I was frowning.
“Uh, am I missing something?” he asked, and I frowned harder as I wished I remembered him. He really was cute.
I could have gotten his name, I could have walked with him back to my room next door . . . but I didn’t want to fuel this side of me he thought he knew.
I held up my beer and half loaf and smiled. “Cheers.” Turning, I walked away from unknown guy number two and stumbled my way to the hall on the first floor to find the bathroom.
It shouldn’t be that hard. This house was built exactly like ours, and I’d spent enough time in this house that I knew it as well as I knew my own. But the walls were spinning sideways and tilting forward, and my bread was starting to smell like bananas, so . . . yeah, difficulty level in finding the bathroom was at an all-time high.
After one miss, I hit a door that was locked and smacked the hand holding the loaf against the door. “Hurry,” I whined, as I kept smacking my hand against the door.
It was official. I turned into a three-year-old when I was drunk. Note to self before I drank again: I’m an annoying drunk.
“Bathroom!” I whined again, and went to take a sip of my beer, but my cup was suddenly empty. “Lame. So much lame in that cup.”
The door swung open, revealing a flushed couple, and I grinned widely at them. “Hope you used protection,” I sang as I stepped into the bathroom and they hurried out. I’m sure tomorrow I would be grossed out that I used a restroom after people just got done doing unmentionables in it.
After leaving the bathroom with more bread in my mouth, I looked to the left and my eyes narrowed on a closed door. On my right, the music was loud, and the people at the party were even louder. But something about that door called to me.
Rolling up the top of the foil again, I went to the door, twisted the handle, and put all my weight into it, expecting it to be locked.
It wasn’t.
I stumbled in, a giggle bubbling up from my chest as I gripped the doorknob and my bread like a lifeline, trying to keep myself vertical.
“Whoa—shit,” I laughed, and straightened.
There was a sigh behind me. “Guess it’s time to go home?”
I whirled around and fell back into the wall from my too-fast movement, the familiar guy lying on the bed darted up like he could save me from over there.
“Definitely time to go home.”
“You scared the shit out of me!” I hissed.
“Really, Indy?” he said on a soft laugh, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he stood up.
My frown was back. “You know me, too?”
He sent me a patient smile. “Not really.”
“But you know my name,” I prompted.
“Yeah, well—yeah. Come on, let’s get you home.”
I pointed at him and gasped. “Casey!”
His face fell. “No.”
“Cain?”
“No.” He reached me then and put one arm behind my back. “Hold on to your bread, Indy.” And that was the only warning I had before I was in his arms and he was walking me out of the room and down the hall.
“But that was your room. You live here, right?”
“Yep.”
“Keith?”
His lips twitched as he stepped out of the house. “No.”
“You’re the quiet one. I don’t ever see you because . . . because I don’t see you. You’re never at the parties, and you don’t talk to anyone.”
“I’m talking to you now.”
I tore some bread off and used it to point at him before shoving it in my mouth. “That you are,” I said around the bread. “Chris?” I guessed when we were in my house.
“No.”
“I’m on the second floor.”
“I know.”
My brow furrowed as I studied him. He wasn’t looking at me, just looking straight ahead. His black hair looked like it had been styled by running his hand through it, and his eyes looked dark from the lack of light in the house—but somehow, I don’t know how, I knew they would look like honey in the light.
By the time we got to my room, I was chewing on more bread, still studying him, and he was trying to keep his breathing steady even though his arms were shaking from having carried me so far.
“Here we are.”
“Hello, room, I’ve missed you!” I called out, and he actually laughed. My head whipped back around to look at him, my voice filled with awe. “I’ve never heard you laugh.”
“There’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”
“I guess. Can you tell me your name?”
His face fell into a serious mask as he laid me down on my bed, kneeling at the side of it. “You know my name. You just don’t want to remember it right now.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I remember it if I knew it?”
“Great question, isn’t it?”
I grabbed for more bread, and he took it out of my hands. I pouted but didn’t comment on that. “You’re confusing.”
“I know,” he said on a sigh. “Get changed. I’ll go—”
Oh no. Guy number three. “Apparently drinking brings out my inner slut, and I’m sorry if we’ve had sex before, but I don’t want to and I promised Misha I wouldn’t.”
“We haven’t, and I’m not trying to have sex with you, Indy,” he whispered, his eyes burning into mine.
Then why was he here? Why did he know where my room was? He wasn’t shy like Misha. He was just quiet . . . like he’d rather not be a part of whatever everyone else was doing, and our conversations never interested him. I couldn’t remember ever speaking to him before tonight.
I inhaled a soft gasp. “You gave me the bread.” It hadn’t been a question, and I didn’t know how I knew. I didn’t even remember receiving the bread. I just remembered having it all of a sudden. But even without his confirmation, I knew without a doubt that this guy gave me the bread.
He looked away for a few seconds before sending me a brief, strained smile. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
“That’s not important right now. Just get changed and get some sleep. I’ll leave water and aspirin on your nightstand, okay?”
Before I could respond, he straightened and quickly walked out of my bedroom. I heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor before the sound descended the stairs.
After kicking off my shoes, I tugged off my jeans and threw them over the side of the bed before tearing off my long-sleeved shirt and bra—leaving me in only a camisole and a pair of lacy underwear. I had my makeup on and I felt grimy and gross, but now that I was in bed I couldn’t even think of getting up to turn my light off, let alone to take a shower. I jerked at my comforter until it was covering me, and rolled over on my stomach, wrapping my arms around the pillow I rested my head on.
A minute later I heard footsteps on the stairs again. Before I knew it, the handsome boy from next door was walking into my room. He didn’t say anything as he set down a glass of water and bottle of aspirin, and it was when he straightened and turned to leave that I just knew.
“Kier?” I called before he could switch off my bedroom light.
His body
stilled, and he looked over his shoulder at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, Indy?”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“I swear I’ll remember you tomorrow.”
The smile fell, and a sad look touched his face. “Good night.”
“Night,” I whispered when he shut off the light and walked quietly out of my room and away from me.
I fell asleep trying to commit everything about Kier to memory, and chanting over and over again that in the morning I would go to him and prove I remembered him.
• • •
Kier
“Hey, excuse me?”
I paused midstep and shut my eyes. That voice. That fucking voice that belonged to a girl who refused to remember me, refused to remember parts of her life for reasons I’d probably never understand. The girl who refused to leave my damn mind.
I ground my jaw and turned, already knowing I’d find her looking apologetic for stopping me—and there she was. Hands covering her mouth, eyebrows drawn together as she bounced on the balls of her feet once.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sure you’re busy, and I don’t really know you—I mean, we’re neighbors, but we don’t talk. And anyway, I need your help, or someone’s help,” she rambled. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Her cheeks filled with heat, and my lips twitched up.
“You’re not bothering me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive, what do you need?”
“Um, my car”—she hooked her thumb over her shoulder, and then turned to look at it—“is dead. I need someone to jump it so I can get to class. I only have one today, but I have an exam that I can’t afford to miss.”
I grimaced. “I don’t have cables.” Lie. “But I’ll give you a ride. I’m heading to campus and will only be there for an hour or so. I’ll drive you back.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“You’re not, come on.” Not waiting for her, I turned and walked over to my SUV, and was actually surprised when I’d started it and she was sliding into the passenger seat. I hadn’t expected her to come that easily.
“Kyle, right?” she asked, her face excited as she waited for my answer.
My lips tilted up again. “No.”
“Oh God. I’m sorry.”
My eyes bounced over her face for a few seconds, taking in the redness there from the cold air outside, and her embarrassment. It was adorable on her. She ran a hand through her waist-length red hair, and her green eyes darted back to mine as she pulled the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her fingers.
“Kier,” I offered.
Recognition flashed in her bright eyes. “Right! I know I’ve heard that. You’d think I’d remember an awesome name like that.”
You’d think you’d remember a lot, I thought. I wanted to tell her she’d promised me four days ago that she would remember me, but there was no point. She promised me that almost every Saturday night. So I didn’t respond, just pulled out onto the street and concentrated on driving.
“Um, my name’s Indy,” she said when I was looking for a parking spot. Her voice was so unsure, and I knew she thought she was bothering me again. One glance at her red cheeks confirmed it.
For a redhead, she didn’t have a lot of what you’d expect to find. She had tan skin and no freckles. But goddamn, could this girl blush when she wasn’t drinking.
“I know.”
“You do?” Her eyebrows drew together.
After I pulled into a space, I turned to look at her and winked. “It’s hard to forget an awesome name like that.”
She blushed harder, and I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
Her green eyes went wide. “Oh my God. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh.”
Of course you haven’t, I thought sarcastically. Taking my keys out of the ignition, I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, there’s a first for everything, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, I guess there is.” She gave me a strange look and huffed a soft laugh. “I just had the weirdest sense of déjà vu. Have you ever had that?”
“Every week,” I muttered. “What do you say we go get this bullshit test out of the way?”
“Tell me about—wait. We?”
“Yeah. We. We have the same class, Indy.”
Her face fell. “Where have I been?”
I got out of the SUV and shook my head. “I ask myself that all the time.”
She rushed around the back to join me, her face pinched together in confusion. “Wait, how did I not know this?”
I shrugged and started walking with her at my side. It felt weird. Instinctively I wanted to pull her up into my arms and carry her, but this was different. She wasn’t wasted, she wasn’t about to forget this conversation, and she wasn’t trying to feed me bread. This was normal—just her. For the first time in the year since the girls moved into the house next to us, she was trying to have a conversation with me—sober.
“It’s a big class. It’s not hard to miss someone.”
“But we’re neighbors,” she argued, and then muttered to herself, “Well, I guess this goes back to the whole us-never-talking thing.”
“I’m talking to you now.”
She looked up at me with a smile on her face, her green eyes narrowed like she was trying to figure me out. “That you are.”
We walked in silence the rest of the way to the lecture hall, but every minute or so I’d catch her looking at me out of the corner of my eye—that same curious expression on her beautiful face.
Grabbing the door, I opened it and held it for her as she walked in, but she paused in the doorway. She stared straight ahead for a few seconds before turning to look at me, her mouth open like she was going to say something. But instead she closed her mouth without speaking and her eyebrows bunched together again.
With a slight shake of her head, she exhaled audibly and shrugged. “Good luck, Kier.”
“You, too.”
I watched her turn and walk into the room, walking toward the middle where she usually sat with a group of girls. I went to my normal spot in the back left corner and sank into my seat as I pulled out my phone, waiting for when the professor would come in.
My thumb paused on the screen of my phone when a bag was dropped a couple of chairs down, followed by a long leg stretching over the back of the row of chairs. Long red hair shielded her face as she hopped over and plopped down into the seat next to mine. Brushing her hair away from her face, she glanced at me, a small smile playing at her lips before she stared straight ahead.
She didn’t say anything, and neither did I. Because not only had the professor just walked in and already begun passing out Scantrons, but there was nothing to say in that moment. I fought back my own smile.
Indy was coming to me sober.
chapter two
Indy
I stepped back as one of my housemates, Chloe, ran through the house to leave for work, and called out a good-bye before I heard the door shut. Walking through the kitchen, I pulled my thick hair up into a messy bun on top of my head and grabbed a soda before joining Misha and my third housemate, Courtney, in the living room.
Neither was talking. The TV was on a music channel, but it was turned down low as they both did homework. I knew I needed to finish this paper, but I couldn’t concentrate on it . . . All I could think about was Kier and how weird it had been to talk to him today. How I’d felt like I’d known him—how every time he spoke, I had the craziest sense of déjà vu . . . like we’d already had that same conversation before. But that was ridiculous; he never talked to anyone, including me. He was absurdly quiet. Not just in comparison to the other guys next door, but compared to anyone.
With a huff, I tried to push thoughts of him out of my mind and pulled my laptop onto my crossed legs, determined to finish this stupid paper. Twenty minutes later, I had written the word the and was staring blankly at the screen . . . o
nly seeing a pair of honey-gold eyes, a too-perfect smile, and black, messy hair.
“Misha,” I whispered. Why I was whispering, I had no clue.
“Hmm?” She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in my direction but didn’t look up from her laptop.
“Misha,” I repeated, this time harder.
She looked up at me this time. “Yeah?”
“What do you know about Kier?”
Both eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything.
“Kier—neighbor, Kier—lives with Darryn. Really quiet, doesn’t ever talk.”
“I know who he is. He’s actually really nice. I’m just surprised you know him.”
I sat back against the couch and made a face. “Why?”
“Because—well, because like you said. He doesn’t talk.”
“But you just said he’s really nice. Which means you’ve talked to him.”
She shrugged and looked back at her laptop. “Only a couple times, and it was just a few words. I think I only heard him talk because I was sitting there with Darryn.” Her dark eyes flickered over to me. “Why are you asking about him?”
“He drove me to class today. Apparently we have a class together and I had no idea. And he didn’t talk a lot, but he talked. It was weird. Nice, but weird.” When I looked up, Misha was just staring at me. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re looking at me weird. It’s not nothing. Is there something about him I should know? Is he a creeper or something?”
Misha laughed softly. “I doubt he would be living with the guys if he were. From what Darryn says, he just doesn’t talk a lot.”
“Do you know why? Because he doesn’t seem shy.” And why was I so interested in knowing about Kier all of a sudden?
She shook her head and looked back down at her laptop. “Not shy. Just isn’t one for talking, that’s what I know.” Her fingers began moving over the keys again, and my shoulders sagged in defeat.
I wanted to know why he was so cryptic, and why I felt like I knew him and could trust him when I hadn’t said more than five words to him before this afternoon. I wanted to know why he gave me little, knowing smiles like I was missing some private joke that I was supposed to be in on.
When We Met Page 11