by Shelia Grace
“Get the fuck out of the bedroom, asshole.”
He walked out and flicked the photo of Alex that I had left on the nightstand after she took off.
Fuck.
Chapter 13
Alex
Friday morning I woke up to a bright, gray light filtering through the window, and suddenly I missed Southern California with a vengeance. This was actually the second time this quarter that I had thought about just quitting and going back home.
It wasn’t just about Ryan. It was everything. It was this place. My life.
The first time had been when I had woken up after Brit had brought some guy back to the room. Opening my eyes, I had found someone six inches from my face. Brit and the guy had laughed their asses off when I screamed and jumped out of bed.
Part of my problem was that I sucked at getting angry with people I didn’t know—or didn’t like, which was crazy. But that was also why it was so easy to get angry with Ryan. I liked him. Too much. Brit? Not so much. I didn’t care enough about her to get angry with her; I just wanted to get away from her.
Right now, the thing that stopped me from calling Mom and begging to come home was simple. Would I be any better off if I went back to Irvine? No. Absolutely not. I’d be a college dropout. What was I going to do? Give up my free ride? Go back to working at the video store—which wasn’t even possible. It had been the last one for twenty miles, and it had shut down a month after I left.
Besides, was I going to let my bitch of a roommate and my broken heart fuck with my college education? No. Slipping out of bed, I went over to the desk and pressed play on my iPod. I smiled when I heard a groan from the other side of the room. Then I turned up the volume.
“Morning, Brit.”
Putting on my running clothes, I grabbed the iPod off the dock and walked out into the hall. I told myself that a run would feel good, but my body didn’t agree, and by the time I stepped outside, I was regretting my choice. It wasn’t raining, but it was fucking freezing. I started moving, trying not to think about how wrong things had gone in the past few days.
I jogged slowly toward town—and Ryan’s place—but stopped way before I got to his street. On the way back, I slowed to a walk, sucking in air and trying to get rid of the horrible stitch in my side. When I got back to the room, I collected a change of clothes and my stuff for the showers. The bathroom was empty, which was good, because it meant hot water. I stayed in the shower for longer than usual, letting the spray come down on my face, feeling hot tears mix with the water.
By the time I got back to the room, Brit had fallen back into her hangover-induced coma, so I picked up my phone and turned the volume back on, checking to see if Mom had called back. Nope. But I did have a couple of texts that had come in overnight. I looked down at the first, and my heart raced when I saw the name. Ryan. Shit.
Your boyfriend misses u
I stared at the text. What the hell? Was this his idea of a sick fucking joke? Your boyfriend? I frowned and shook my head. Wait. Unless Ryan had started speaking in the third person, then he hadn’t sent this. But someone who had access to his phone had. The blonde from his house? My stomach lurched. Was that what—or more accurately whom—he had done after I had left Wednesday? I winced. Wow. I squeezed my eyes shut and put in my earbuds, turning up the music.
On my way down to breakfast, I went over to Julie’s room to see if she wanted to have come with. Her roommate opened the door and said, “She’s not here,” before closing it again. Nice.
I walked down to the DC alone, thinking about the different sides of Ryan Bennett that I had seen since that first night in Professor Robertson’s class. Charming. Hot. Sweet. Funny. Thoughtful. Careful. Then, when I had showed up at his place on Wednesday, I had seen another side of him. I shivered remembering what he had said—and how he had said it.
Because I’m a selfish prick. Because I want to kiss you. And touch you. I want to watch you coming in my arms. Why else?
I had never been afraid of him before, but for that small sliver of time he had seemed like another person. It made me wonder: if I hadn’t told him to stop, if I hadn’t essentially told him—again—that I was completely fucking in love with him, would he have stopped? Even worse, would I have wanted him to stop?
Sliding my ID card through the reader, I walked into the DC and looked over at the waffle iron. It was already destroyed as usual, so I opted for cold cereal and a glass of overly sweet orange juice before finding a table in the corner. Apart from Tony and a couple of girls at the end of the hall, I didn’t talk to many people from my floor. Half of the girls on the third floor were on the crew team, and they were almost as bad as the guys on the second floor. Loud, mean, bitchy.
Hearing laughter from the other end of the DC, I looked up and saw three second-floor knuckle-draggers walk in. They were dressed in meathead workout clothes, no doubt on their way over to the Rec Center to grunt and watch themselves in the mirror. I took out a dog-eared copy of a book I had already read three times. It had a fucked up ending that made me cry every time, which meant that I couldn’t help re-reading it. It had become a compulsion of mine. Somewhere in the back of my head I thought that it would eventually end differently if I read it enough times. That, or I just enjoyed suffering.
“Woof.”
I looked up automatically and then forced my features to remain impassive before looking down again. This was turning out to be a seriously fucked up week. Putting down the book, I hurried to finish my cereal and get the hell out of the DC. By the time I got to the third floor landing, I knew Brit was awake, because I could hear her music through the door. I just wanted to get in, get my laptop and backpack, and get out. Opening the door, I walked over to the desk, and that was when I saw my closet door open wider than I had left it.
Brit turned and gave me a sly look. Fuck! The dress. I had forgotten all about it. How the hell was I supposed to get the dress and shoes back to Ryan’s place? Walk with them across town? Take the bus? Shit, I just wanted this to be over. Grabbing my backpack, and computer, I walked over to the door and unlocked it knowing that Brit wouldn’t bother locking up when she left—she never did.
Now that I had pretty much everything of value with me, I could text Ryan and tell him to pick up the dress … while I was out of the room. Lost in thought, I walked slowly, and it took me a little more than twenty minutes to walk over to the library. As soon as I settled at a desk—on the first floor—I typed out the text and studied it.
I’m at the library til afternoon. Door to my room should be unlocked. Please pick up the dress & shoes before I get back. Alex
It was kind of bitchy, but it wasn’t like I was going to write him a love poem. Looking up, I saw a girl walking by with a heart-shaped balloon and a teddy bear. I stared at her for several seconds before looking back down at my phone. February 14. Valentine’s Day.
My stomach tightened like someone had just kicked me in the gut. I had totally forgotten to send Stephie a card this year, and, stupid or not, I had always gotten my little sister a card for Valentine’s Day. This year my lame ass had forgotten all about it. I checked the time. She’d be in school, so I’d have to wait until later to call. Sucking in a breath, I realized that I had never felt more alone in my life than I did in this moment.
I pulled out my French textbook and wished that I had had the sense to take Intro to Psychology instead of Calculus. Because really—had it made any sense at all to take Chemistry and Calculus, two classes I was one hundred percent sure to hate? Nope. Not one bit. I scrunched my legs up between the chair and the desk, and before Mom could call and get me in trouble with the library staff, I turned off my phone volume again.
Putting in my earbuds, I pressed play on my phone. The problem was that most of the songs on my phone were ones that could be categorized under depressing-as-hell. Happy music made me want to scream most of the time, which had made the trip at the beginning of fall term a nightmare. Mom was big into happy music.
An hour passed, and I was still struggling with my Chemistry assignment when a shadow loomed over me. Looking up at the guy in front of me, I frowned. He was wearing a gray suit and black shirt. He was tall, but not as tall as Ryan, and he was older—and good-looking. Like really good-looking. With short, dark brown hair and dark eyes. My heart rate jumped. He smiled, which made the skin around his eyes crinkle like he had just seen something really amusing—and he was staring right at me. When he said something, I tentatively took out an earbud.
“Are you looking for something?” I asked, glancing at the help desk, which was about twenty feet away.
“Are you Alex?”
I blinked and felt a prickle of fear. It was daytime, and I was surrounded by people, but still … how the hell did this guy know my name?
“I didn’t realize it was such a complicated question,” he smirked.
My eyes narrowed.
“Sorry. It’s just my mom told me never to talk to strange men.”
Well, that settled it. This guy was an asshole. A hot, overly confident asshole. I may have been wrong about Ryan the first night I saw him, but not this guy. This guy virtually oozed the asshole vibe. Suddenly I felt another spike of fear. Could he be from that frat that Ryan carried me out of? He looked too old, though.
“It’s nice to meet you, girl with no name.”
I pressed my lips together and gave him a look.
“Are you going to tell me who you are first?” I whispered.
He gestured toward the library exit like he expected me to get up and follow him. I shook my head, and with a sigh, he held out his hand.
“James McDevitt.”
I shook his hand and then pulled away when he held mine for several seconds too long. A second later, he produced a long-stemmed red rose from his other hand like one of those cheesy Date a Billionaire shows. I stared at him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
I laughed and looked around for sign of a camera crew and a washed-up celebrity host.
“Seriously? Is this one of those fucked up shows?”
“Bennett didn’t happen to mention that you were so suspicious.”
Oh … fuck. He was a friend of Ryan’s? And Ryan had mentioned me? Great. I shook my head in disbelief. Somehow, in my imagination, Ryan didn’t have friends like this guy. Then something clicked in my head, and I glared at him.
“You’re the one who sent the text last night … from Ryan’s phone.”
“I am,” he smiled.
“Yeah, well he’s not my boyfriend … and does your buddy know that you were drunk dialing girls in his contacts last night?”
When a cell phone rang, I reached out and checked mine compulsively. The woman at the help desk looked angrily in our direction as the guy standing in front of me smiled and took a phone from his pocket.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I must have mixed up our phones again,” he said into the phone before winking at me. “No … actually I’m over at the library with the lovely young woman you showed me the picture of.”
I froze. What … the … fuck? Suddenly I heard Ryan’s voice, and I was pretty sure he had just said: You fucking prick. When the woman at the help desk got up, I looked down at my book and tried to pretend that I had nothing to do with the jackass talking on the phone in the middle of the fucking library. Then he tapped me on the shoulder. Looking up, I shook my head when he gestured for me to follow him outside.
“Please?” he grinned.
I shoved my book into my bag and jumped up before hurrying toward the exit with Ryan’s friend trailing me. When we reached the front steps of Shorenberger, I stopped.
“Thanks for almost getting me kicked out of the library.”
“You’re quite welcome.”
“James?”
“Yes, my love?”
I looked at his suit again. This guy was such a sleaze ball. A sleaze with a lot of money, but still a sleaze.
“Do you sell cars for a living?” I asked.
He smiled. He was shady, not stupid, and I could tell he had gotten my joke. He shook his head.
“But you are in sales, right?” I pressed.
“Client management.”
I raised a hand to my ear.
“Sorry? Did you say manipulation?”
He smiled again.
“Would you like to get a coffee?”
“I don’t drink coffee. Caffeine makes me do stupid things,” I admitted.
I bit my lip. Why the fuck had I said that? I could tell that anything I said would be used against me. That’s what guys like him did—they looked for weak spots. It occurred to me that James McDevitt would have fit in really well on the second floor of my dorm, if he hadn’t been a decade too old.
“I’ll have to order you a double espresso, then.”
“Of course,” I said dryly.
“Come on. I won’t bite.”
I shrugged and started walking. I’d play along long enough to find out why this guy had shown up at the library looking for me in the first place. When he took my backpack, I rolled my eyes. Walking off campus, we crossed Third Street, and he held open the door to the coffee shop. I looked around at all the people camped out with laptops and tablets. I was not one of those people who could study in a coffee shop. I couldn’t even read a magazine ad in a place like this without getting distracted by literally everything—the hiss of the espresso machines, the people calling the orders, the assholes yelling at the baristas because they got full-fat rather than nonfat soy. Besides, watching people peck at their tablets with super-serious expressions just cracked me up.
I got in line and glanced over at James McDevitt. He was hot, no question there. But in a very different way than Ryan was. Ryan was long and lean. This guy was slightly broader, possibly a bit more muscular. It was hard to tell, though, beneath the suit. After all, I had run my hands along the muscles in Ryan’s chest, so for a real comparison, I would have to do the same thing to this guy. The thought made me laugh without meaning to.
“What?” he asked with a smile.
I shook my head.
“Nothing.”
He gave me an odd look, and I tried to rein in my crazy.
“What’s your poison?”
I swallowed.
“Um, a small latte.”
Which would be my second coffee since I got to college.
“Nonfat?” he smirked.
“Uh, gross. No. Do you know what they do to the milk to get it that way?”
My mom had an obsession with everything low-calorie and nonfat, even after I told her about an article that said nonfat milk was worse than guzzling gasoline. James McDevitt laughed and ordered a triple espresso and a small latte.
“Decaf!” I blurted.
“No fun,” he grinned as he paid.
Considering he was wearing a watch that was probably more expensive than my tuition, I decided not to bother taking out my wallet. When we found a table, he pulled out my chair, and I blushed.
“So how do you know my buddy?” he asked.
“He didn’t tell you?”
He shrugged.
“Well, I was stripping at this club off the freeway to pay for tuition, and Ryan came in one day.”
His eyebrows went up, and I laughed at my ability to shock someone who looked as slick as he did.
“Sorry. No. Actually he was my Calculus TA.”
“In undergrad?”
I blushed.
“I am an undergrad. A freshman.”
His eyebrows went up again. Then he got a look on his face like he had just solved the fucking mystery of the universe.
“So my friend Ryan Bennett has been a very naughty boy, then,” he laughed.
I shook my head.
“We’re not sleeping together!”
“No?” he laughed.
I blushed even redder since I hadn’t intended to say that so loud.
“And the text about picking up your dress and shoes?
I shook my head.
“No way. Now it’s my turn for twenty questions. First, why the hell do you have Ryan’s phone?”
He shrugged again in a way that was really starting to get on my nerves.
“Well, your buddy didn’t seem too happy about it. If I heard him correctly, I think the exact phrase was,” I lowered my voice, “You fucking prick.”
“Bennett does take life too seriously.”
A chill went over me.
“Wait a second. You said Ryan showed you a picture of me. What fucking picture?”
He smiled.
“The one he keeps in his nightstand.”
Holy … shit. I looked around, suddenly desperate to get off this crazy train before it went off the rails completely.
“Okay. Last question: why the hell did you show up in the library?”
He shrugged again, and I resisted the urge to strangle him. Then I decided that my first impression of him had been dead on. He was an Asshole with a capital fucking A.
“I guess I wanted to see what my buddy’s been doing since his fiancée dumped him.”
What his buddy’s been doing? I opened my mouth to tell him what a dick he was. Then the rest of what he had just said sank in. Fiancée. Ryan’s fiancée? Who had dumped him? Oh. Shit. The pretty, blonde, impeccably dressed woman I had seen at Ryan’s house … as he was getting out of the shower. The one he had said wasn’t his girlfriend. I sucked in a breath and stood up, sending the chair screeching behind me. Then I grabbed my backpack from beneath the table and bolted out of the shop.
I tried to keep it together, only crying a little bit on the way back to the dorms. It felt like I had just stepped into one of those freaky, surreal horror shows on cable where everybody is fucking crazy. Dammit.
All I had wanted was to sit in the library for a few hours, get some studying done, and avoid Brit—and Ryan Bennett. The way I had imagined it, the dress and shoes would have magically disappeared while I was gone—along with the clawing sensation in my chest that came from knowing I had confessed my love for my former Calculus TA, who had just turned out to be my recently unengaged former Calculus TA who was still sleeping with his ex.