College Girl

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College Girl Page 31

by Shelia Grace


  I smiled and nodded for emphasis. But I wasn’t sure. Then again, what else was I supposed to say? Maybe not? I’m doing the dumbest thing ever? Or: I have serious daddy issues? The most honest answer was probably: I’m in love. I had learned early on that someone I loved could disappoint me a million times, but it would take a million and one times for it to finally sink in.

  Julie walked out of the bathroom toward Chris’s room, and I took a deep breath before stepping out on my side of the floor. Ryan was waiting with my stuff, and I tried to smile, but I couldn’t. A few minutes ago, he had seen me more naked, more vulnerable than any other person ever had.

  Looking up at him, I tried to think of how different my life might have been if I had never taken Calculus, if I hadn’t gone to the library that night, if I had walked away from Ryan Bennett—if I had made all the right choices. Where would I be? Who would I be? Because no matter what happened from this moment on, for better or worse, I was a different person than the girl who had started school here in the fall.

  Based on the TV shows I had overdosed on before leaving for school, I was supposed to be some bad-assed bitch who didn’t need anybody. But that had been me for more years than I could count. Whenever I needed someone, I thought it was a weakness I couldn’t afford. Whenever people left, I thought: fuck ’em. Whenever I was hurting, I buried it beneath a layer of sarcasm.

  The thing was that I knew Mom loved me. It just wasn’t in the same way that she loved Stephie. Not that it should have been, but still. There was an effortlessness to her love for Stephie. With me, it was like there was an underlying disappointment she had to hide.

  I knew my father had left for his own reasons that had nothing to do with me, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. And then seeing him again, I had still felt like the same little girl who had waited hours for him to show up.

  And I knew my fears and my insecurities weren’t things I could share with anyone—but I had just told Ryan.

  His face was serious as he nodded toward the stairwell, and I wondered what mine looked like. Yeah, I was red and blotchy and my eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, but did I look as uncertain as I felt? When we got to the first floor, I hesitated before deciding: what do I have to lose? Things couldn’t get much more fucked up than they had been in the past month.

  In the parking lot, Ryan popped the trunk of his car and started putting my bags inside just as a cheesy red Camaro pulled up a few spaces away. James McDevitt got out, and that was when I started thinking this whole night was a vivid nightmare.

  “Bravo, my man. Nice save.”

  Staring back and forth between them, I waited for someone to make sense.

  “Don’t,” Ryan said quietly.

  “You mean you didn’t tell her why you’re here?”

  Ryan’s friend took out his phone and held it out. I stared at a blurry image of me—with Nick Collins, my ill-fated bookstore date.

  “Are you stalking me?”

  James shrugged in that obnoxious way he had.

  “Like I told Bennett—small town.”

  “You’re an asshole,” I pointed out.

  “Why else do you think he showed up when he did?” James asked, pointing at Ryan and laughing. “His deep and unwavering love for you? He just couldn’t stand the thought of his little freshman conquest fucking anyone else. And what thanks do I get for telling him? He changes his fucking locks on me. Thanks, buddy.”

  Ryan slammed the trunk closed and started to move toward James, but I caught his arm. I knew he could break away, but I was hoping he wouldn’t. I looked over at James McDevitt.

  “And you showed up here—why? To foil your friend’s evil plan? That’s very noble of you.”

  Did this asshole think I was a complete idiot? James obviously had some fucked up issues going on, but whatever those issues were, they didn’t have anything to do with me. To him, I was just a convenient way to gouge his friend, which said a lot about their friendship.

  “Alex, let’s go,” Ryan said.

  I nodded and opened the car door. Pausing, I looked at James—his smirk, his suit, his look-at-me car.

  “You should have taken my advice.”

  I sat down and pulled the door shut after me. My head was spinning when Ryan got in and looked over at me.

  “You changed your locks?” I asked, a little dumbfounded.

  He pulled out of the parking space, and I turned back once and saw James still standing there.

  “Spring cleaning.”

  I looked down.

  “I’m sorry about James. You guys have been friends a long time.”

  “And I’ve been giving him a free pass to be a prick for way too long.”

  “Was he at your house all week?”

  “That’s what it looked like.”

  “Doesn’t he have anything better to do?”

  “Depends on what he thinks better is at the moment. His job gives him flexibility, and James is …”

  “Unhinged?”

  “A little bit. Alex, I’m sorry I sent him to pick you up. I just didn’t want … I didn’t want you to have to deal with my bullshit.”

  I bit my lip.

  “You mean your life? I would have come with you to the hospital.”

  “I know.”

  Ryan took the ramp onto the freeway.

  “Wait—where are you going?”

  He looked over at me.

  “SF.”

  I shook my head.

  “Hold on. I thought we were going back to your house to talk.”

  He glanced at me and frowned.

  “The house is pretty destroyed, and I didn’t think you would appreciate wading through pizza boxes.”

  “But I can’t go to San Francisco with you.”

  “Alex, I just want to talk to you. I’m not asking for anything else. If you want me to sleep on the floor, I will. But I wasn’t going to leave you in the dorm.”

  I nodded hesitantly and then sat back.

  “When you said James didn’t take your advice, what were you talking about?” Ryan asked.

  “I told him to stop expecting the worst out of people and to try believing that someone would love him for who he was.”

  “I’m sure he loved that,” Ryan laughed.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  I nodded and braced myself.

  “Did you sleep with his fiancée?”

  Ryan was quiet for several seconds, and I was torn—between feeling awful for giving weight to anything James McDevitt had told me and dread that what he said could have been true.

  “He showed you the ring?” Ryan asked.

  When I nodded, Ryan swore under his breath.

  “I can’t believe I ever thought he had a shred of fucking integrity,” he muttered. “I should have kicked his ass. Goddamn asshole.”

  “I don’t get it …”

  “The ring is a fake.”

  “A fake,” I repeated. “You mean a fake diamond?”

  “A fake everything. James was never engaged. He uses that ring—and the story—to hook women.” Ryan frowned as he looked over at me. “He calls it his ultimate panty dropper.”

  My stomach lurched, and I had a moment of pure nausea.

  “It’s my fault for wanting to believe he had a fucking conscience,” Ryan continued.

  “Uh, Ryan? Let your friend take credit for his own behavior. One day he’ll get a wake-up call, and he’ll think twice about screwing over his friends.”

  “McDevitt learn a valuable life lesson? Impossible.”

  I stared out the window at the passing lights and thought about how easy it was to screw things up irrevocably with one bad decision. Or two. Or three. How many had I made? And had I learned my lesson yet?

  The drive took nearly an hour and a half, but neither of us said a word for the rest of the trip. We passed over a bridge, and suddenly it felt like I was entering a parallel reality. Ryan took the first exit after cros
sing the Bay, and a few minutes later we pulled up in front of a hotel. When a valet opened my door, my heart started racing.

  What was I doing here?

  But it only took a second to realize exactly why I was here. I had been running away from Ryan just as much as he had been running away from me, and the only real reason I kept running was because that was what I always did when I was afraid—of getting hurt, of finding out that everyone does leave.

  Of losing myself.

  Ryan took my hand, and my first instinct was to crush the thrill I felt so that I didn’t end up disappointed later. Then I remembered the advice I had given James McDevitt. If I assumed that Ryan never could have loved me, that made me a hypocrite.

  Tonight I had the chance to see if what we had was built on stable ground.

  Chapter 36

  Ryan

  Alex smiled and bit her lip as we walked toward the hotel entrance. It was indisputable: I had altered her life. If she had never met me, she might have been in her dorm room tonight hooking up with the guy from the grainy picture McDevitt had sent. I hated the thought of it, but it was true.

  It was also undeniable that she had altered my life—and that I loved her more than I had realized was possible. For the longest time, I had convinced myself that it was physical attraction I felt for her—end of story. But that didn’t explain the way I felt right now as I looked down at her. I just wanted to spend the entire night holding her in my arms and grilling her with questions.

  Did I want to make love to her all night long? Fuck, yes. But I had done too much damage to expect her to trust that I wouldn’t hurt her. And I would rather die than hurt her again, but she had no reason to believe that.

  We walked into the lobby, and Alex looked in awe at the surroundings. I checked in, and as we started walking toward the elevators, I took a risk and grabbed Alex’s hand. She didn’t pull away.

  “Have you been here before?” she whispered.

  I nodded.

  “The winery has an account.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Some of the tension seemed to melt out of her, and I realized that she had probably thought this was my go-to destination for bringing women. I nearly laughed, but it wasn’t a joke. I had pushed Alex away enough times that I didn’t deserve this chance. But she had given it to me, and I wasn’t about to fuck it up.

  We reached the eighth floor and walked to the corner suite. Opening the door, I gestured for Alex to walk ahead. The lights were on, and our bags were waiting. I stopped and watched as Alex walked, absolutely silent, through the suite. Finally she turned back and stared at me.

  “This is insane!” she gasped.

  She walked into the bathroom.

  “Oh, fuck. I don’t even want to know how much you paid for this.”

  I had paid about half of what I had paid for her entire spring term, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

  “Does that mean you like it?”

  “Like it? That might be the understatement of the century.”

  I smiled.

  “You want something to eat?”

  She looked around.

  “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Almost two.”

  “This is definitely insane.”

  “Pizza?” I grinned.

  She looked tempted, and I picked up the phone.

  “They have a great pot de crème, too.”

  “Pot de crème?”

  “Like chocolate crème brûlée.”

  I placed the order and watched as Alex walked the periphery of the room, staring out the windows at the lights beyond. The bridge was visible in the moonlight, and it was an impressive view of the bay, even at night. She stopped when she reached the soaking tub in the corner facing the window.

  “Ryan … why did you bring me here?” she asked quietly, still looking out into the darkness. “Really.”

  “Because I’m happier when I’m with you. And because I don’t want to lose you.”

  I walked slowly toward her, watching as tears welled up in her eyes again.

  “I don’t want to lose you either, but—”

  I wiped her cheeks.

  “Then give me another chance.”

  The corner of her lips lifted in a wry smile.

  “Is pizza and pot de crème in a luxury hotel suite bribery?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She laughed, and I pulled her toward the bed. She sat down stiffly at the edge.

  “Alex, I’m not here to seduce you.”

  “And what if I wanted you to?”

  She blushed, and I willed myself not to think about the last time I had been with her.

  “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

  She blinked.

  “Make what easy?”

  “Redemption.”

  She shook her head, and I ached to pull her long, dark hair from the ponytail.

  “Ryan, I’m not mad at you. I just … I don’t know. We’ve both run away from whatever this is so many times that maybe we’re just better off not—”

  I took her hand lightly.

  “Alex, listen to me. I’m not running away this time. I’m not going anywhere. What happens after this weekend is completely up to you. Until then, I want to spend time with you—and you can ask me anything you want.”

  She ran her tongue along her upper lip quickly, and I started going over theorems in my head to keep from grabbing her.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  I nodded, acutely aware that this wasn’t going to lead anywhere good.

  “How many people have you slept with?”

  “I have nothing but respect for the fine gay community of this fair city and beyond, but for the sake of accuracy, I’ve only slept with women.”

  She smirked.

  “Okay. Then, how many females have you slept with?”

  “Eleven.”

  Alex’s eyes widened, and I couldn’t tell if it was because she had estimated high or low.

  “Wow. Does that include me?”

  I nodded, and she started chewing her lip. When she gave me a wry smile, I relaxed and assumed that her questions could only get easier from here. Then she looked down at her hands.

  “How did your brother die?”

  “Car accident. The summer before I started junior high.”

  “Were you close to him?”

  “He was my hero. And after the accident, when I was in the hospital—”

  She winced and reached up to touch the scar on my brow.

  “Oh god. You were with him when he …”

  I nodded, and she scrambled onto her knees on the bed and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Resting my head on her chest, I breathed in the smell of her. We stayed like that until someone knocked at the door. When I pulled back, she smiled unsteadily.

  At the door, I took the room service tray and signed the bill. Alex was still kneeling on the bed, her face red and her cheeks tear-stained. I set everything on the table, and she slid down and came over to join me.

  “I feel like a jerk for even thinking I had problems,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

  I grabbed hold of her and shook her gently.

  “Alex, stop. Please don’t do that. This is not meant to be whose problems are bigger or more real. This is me not holding back … and I want you to do the same.”

  I let her go and turned around, putting two slices of pizza on one of the plates and pouring the sparkling water I had ordered. Then I handed them to Alex before getting my own. There were chairs everywhere, but Alex went back to the bed and leaned up against the headboard. Joining her, I watched as she took a bite. When she closed her eyes and moaned, my jaw clenched and I willed the stiffness in my pants to take a fucking vacation. Redirecting my energy, I tore through five pieces of pizza while she finished her two.

  “All right, my turn.”

  She blinked.

  “Okay.”

  I hated myself for asking, bu
t I had to know.

  “Who was the guy you were out with?”

  She frowned.

  “I really hate your friend James, by the way,” she muttered.

  “Ex-friend. And you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

  Alex shook her head.

  “He was working in the bookstore when I got my books, and he slipped his number in with a bookmark. Julie found it and texted him telling him I wanted to go out.”

  She looked down.

  “She thought it would be good for me, but it was … awkward. Because I was thinking about you the entire time, which was awful and mean. Then I agreed to go out with him again tonight, but when he tried to kiss me, I sort of slammed the door in his face. It was terrible …”

  Or the best news I had ever heard. Still, I tried not to smile.

  “All right. Easy question next: your favorite band.”

  Alex shook her head.

  “Impossible.”

  “What do you mean impossible?”

  She set her plate on the nightstand and jumped up, returning a second later with her iPhone, which she unlocked.

  “Go ahead. Look at the music.”

  I did what she said and laughed.

  “Are you sure you’re only eighteen?”

  She groaned.

  “Why does everyone always ask me that?”

  “Perhaps because half the music you own predates your birth?”

  “My mom says I was born in the wrong decade.”

  “I think she’s right. But that doesn’t explain why you don’t have a favorite band.”

  “I can give you the top ten albums I can listen to all the way through, and that’s the best I can do. I like random songs mostly. My turn. Who was your first and when?”

  “Heather Bryant. I was sixteen; she was a senior. The night didn’t end well.”

  I pointed to the scar on my jaw, and Alex let out a surprised laugh.

  “Wow. What a night.”

  “Middle name?”

  She turned bright pink.

  “No!”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “It’s too embarrassing!”

  “Will it help if I tell you mine?”

  She shook her head.

  “Thomas. Now you.”

  Her mouth screwed up in a cute little frown, and I waved my hand at her to hurry up.

 

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