After stretching and jumping around for a while, I catch my breath and open my laptop to set up my school email. I sort through the university welcome messages and solicitations from campus clubs and find only one that interests me. The subject line reads: “Roommate.” I click it open.
Dear Juliet Anderson, Room 001, Sheridan Hall,
Please be advised that your roommate will not be moving into the dormitory until later this week.
Thank you and have a nice day.
Signed,
Dean of Students
I sigh and shut the laptop. I guess I’ll be on my own for a while.
Right now, I need Ben more than ever. After all, he’d been here for weeks for football practice and probably already knew a ton of people. He can show me around, and I’ll make friends with his friends, and everything will be perfect here in New Jersey.
Not only had I managed to follow him to the university, but I’d talked myself into his dorm, too. Sometimes I wonder why I’m not an actress instead of a dancer. My performance for the University Housing Department was Oscar-worthy. Now, the pieces are all set. We’re together, out of Pennsylvania, out of high school. All that’s left to do is make Ben love me a little bit more.
As if on cue, my phone chimes with Ben’s special ringtone. I read the text:
Stuck at practice. Dinner tonight?
I smile and text him back.
Of course. See you later. <3
When the hall quiets, I check myself in the mirror. I unclip the bun and let my hair fall into the ponytail, looks fine, but my outfit feels dusty and dirty from the heat and my impromptu ballet practice. I quickly freshen up my makeup and throw on a pair of jeans. In an attempt to look casual but cute, I wiggle into my NJU tee shirt and slide on my flip-flops. First impressions are everything, so they say.
I venture out of my room into the empty hallway. Sounds of muffled voices, hammering, drawers opening and closing, ringtones and music greet me from the neighboring rooms. There are four doors between Ben’s room and mine, and I want to investigate everyone. I start next door at room two and meet Winston and Rodrigo. They’re busy organizing their various computers and electronic devices and invite me to the party they’re planning for tonight—a get-to-know-you type thing. They seem nice enough—a bit nerdy, maybe. The only real weirdness is when they tell me I look like some Japanese anime character called Kiki-mo. I don’t know who or what a Kiki-mo is, so I’m not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.
Room three’s girls are going to be a problem. Maggie and Megan are both petite blondes. Within seconds, I forget which one is which and am too embarrassed to ask. One is all made up and has a cute little beauty mark near her mouth, and the other looks like she just got back from the gym. Unlike the guys in room two, the girls in room three invite me in and offer me coffee. I decline and give them the details on Winston and Rodrigo’s party.
Beauty Mark jerks her head toward me, her eyes wide. “Winston?”
“I think that’s what he said. The party’s tonight, after the RA meeting. I’ll see you there?” I pull out my phone and check the time.
Beauty Mark tells me she’ll be at the party and rushes out the door. I look at Non-mark for an explanation, but she only shrugs. She agrees to come to the party, too, and I excuse myself.
Music blares from room four, but nobody responds to my knock. Onto room five.
Room five houses Poppy and Darcy, best friends from Boston, who don’t invite me in. I’m fine with that, since their room is a disaster. Garbage bags, food, clothes, and boxes litter the floor. The beds are covered in junk. The smell of weed invades my senses as they talk to me. Great. Potheads. I tell them about the party and split before the secondhand high hits.
I refrain from knocking on room six’s door again to flirt with Train Boy Chase. I have to be on my best behavior for Ben, I remind myself.
“Ben,” I sigh, leaning against the door to room six. I close my eyes and picture his smile. I can’t wait to get this year started.
Chase
Within seconds of meeting Ben, I can tell he’s a nice guy. He shakes my hand, offers me his extra set of sheets, and says, “Hope you don’t mind I took this side of the room.” I could care less which side of the room I’m on. Still, it’s cool he thought to mention it.
Ben pulls off his sweaty jersey as he tells me about his Phys Ed major, football, and his weeks of practice. He’s built like a house—tall, like me, but heavier and more muscular. His legs look like tree trunks. He’d mentioned via text that he’s a quarterback. I’m more of a baseball guy and don’t know much about football, but to me he looks too bulky to be a quarterback. So this is the object of Juliet’s affection.
He pushes his hair off his face, and I glimpse an impressive scar over his eye.
“Cleat to the face,” he says, rubbing his forehead.
I grimace. “Ouch.”
As he rummages through his stuff and I prep for room two’s party, Ben tells me about his mother (who’d packed him food along with that extra set of sheets), his father (a lawyer), and his four older brothers (his best friends). He asks me about growing up in the city. When he starts with high school stories, I deflect the conversation. I don’t want him to think I’m a freak before he has a chance to know me.
Instead, I use the opportunity to ask about Juliet.
“Oh, dude, this super hot chick stopped by looking for you. Juliet? She’s in room one.”
“Down the hall? In Sheridan?”
“Yeah. I figured she was your girlfriend.”
Ben shakes his head. “No, just friends. But we did go to homecoming together.”
“Let me guess, king and queen?”
“You got it.” He points at me and grins.
I’m not surprised. Ben has popularity written all over him—good-looking, nice, friendly. “D-did you guys ever hook up?” In an attempt to hide my interest, I stutter over the question.
“No. She’s something special though.”
Something special pretty much sums it up. “Cheerleader?” I ask, fishing for information.
“Ballet,” he says.
I knew it. I picture her twisting her hair into one of those bun things on the top of her head. God, I love ballerinas.
“We’re gonna go grab dinner if you want to join us,” Ben offers.
“Nah. I’ll let you two catch up. She seemed anxious to see you.”
Ben grabs his shampoo and points it at me. “Advice about Jules? Be nice. She holds a grudge better than anyone I know. Make sure you get on her good side.” As Ben leaves to shower, I picture Juliet and decide all her sides are good.
Ben may be nice, but he’s not so bright if he’d let someone like Juliet slip through his fingers. He must be into guys. I chuckle, though I don’t really care about Ben’s sexual preferences. Besides, that would make watching Juliet work her magic all the more entertaining.
I stretch Ben’s extra set of sheets over my mattress, wondering what Juliet will wear to the party. Before long, I’m imagining her long legs wrapped around my waist. I’ve had one conversation with the girl and I can’t wait to see her again. Man, am I in trouble.
Juliet
Although I’ve been waiting years for Ben, I don’t feel like sitting around waiting for him today, my first day of college. I grab my new swipe card and step into the warm afternoon, heading through the busy parking lot and across the street to the Student Center.
Inside, I walk past a mother wearing an NJU MOM tee shirt telling her daughter that she loves her and to call if she needs anything. I sigh, but it’s not because I’m jealous. My parents always loved Justine more, which I understood. Justine was the good twin. She got the sweet, friendly, calm genes, and I got the crazy, emotional, stubborn ones. My parents never knew what to do with me. When Justine died, they had an excuse to shut me out.
It’s been four years since I’ve felt an inkling of love from my parents. Dad tries, but Mom? Nothing. They gave me a roof to sleep under and food to
eat, so I guess I’m grateful for that. But through the years, I’ve learned to accept that I’m not going to get anything else out of them. I’ve learned not to need them that way. All I need is Ben. That’s why I’m here, after all. As long as they financially support me through college, I’ll count on my crazy, emotional, stubborn genes, and my Ben, to survive.
As I stand in the coffee line, I look around at all the overly excited students chatting like they’ve known each other forever. Justine would be one of them, friendly and at ease within hours of arriving. I’d tag along and latch on to whomever she befriended. I wouldn’t even care about making friends if I had Justine. She’d be all the friend I’d need.
Megan, or is it Maggie? The one without the beauty mark waves from the front of the line. When I wave back, she gives up her prime spot and joins me at the end. “Do you think it’s always this crowded?” she asks as she looks around.
“Nah. I think it’s just move-in day frenzy,” I answer. “Did you guys run out of K-cups?” I remember she offered me coffee when I visited earlier.
She shakes her head. “Maggie’s unpacking, and she’s on the phone. I thought I’d give her some space.”
Ah-ha! No beauty mark equals Megan. “Isn’t it crazy how we come to college and all of a sudden we’re expected to live with strangers?”
“It’s different,” she says. “I guess that’s the point.”
“My roommate won’t be here until later in the week. I’m kind of bummed about it.”
We step up in line and she turns to me. “If you get lonely, feel free to come hang in our room.”
I return her smile. “Thanks.”
I pick up the tab for the coffee and we go outside into the grassy fields of the main campus. The skyline of the city shines in the background as the sun sets in an orange sky. We people-watch and sip our coffee, neither of us speaking until we reach the northernmost part of campus.
As we turn back in the direction of Sheridan, I ask, “Are you happy to be away from home?” I’m more than thrilled to be away. For the first time in a long time, I can breathe again.
She sighs and looks up at me. “I miss someone.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No.” Her big, blue eyes start to tear, and I don’t know what to do. Usually, I’m the one who needs calming. I decide to be silent and hope she gets over it on her own. She doesn’t though, and when she says, “I miss my dad,” I’m not sure whether to laugh or be jealous. “He’s my best friend.”
“Your dad?” I ask.
She smiles through her tears. “It’s okay. I know it’s dumb. You probably think I’m weird.”
I touch her shoulder. “I don’t think you’re weird. You’re lucky.” I’m tired of thinking about parents, so I change the subject. “Speaking of best friends, mine is in room six.”
Megan smiles and wipes the tears from under her eyes. “Ben told me all about you.”
At the sound of Ben’s name, my heart flutters. “You’ve met him?”
She nods. “Yesterday. I moved in early so we hung out last night. He’s great.”
As much as I hate that Ben hung out with No-Beauty-Mark Megan, I’m glad he spent time telling her about me. “He’s the best.”
When I tell Megan I’ve met everyone except whoever’s in room four, her eyes light up. She describes the room four guys. “They’re sophomore bodybuilders who’ve turned their room into a mini-gym!” She also tells me that Winston and Maggie knew each other as kids and randomly ended up here as neighbors.
“Wow! Maybe this place is magical,” I say.
Megan and I chat until we reach Sheridan. She doesn’t know about my crazy, my past, my struggles. To her, I’m no more than a girl down the hall. I miss Justine like mad, but talking with Megan is easy and simple. We’re just girls hanging out. The combination of this new, clean slate and knowing I’ll have Ben by my side makes me believe that maybe, here in New Jersey, everything will be perfect for the first time in years.
Chapter Three
Chase
I take a deep breath, cradle two cans of beer in the crook of my arm, and knock on Juliet’s door. When she opens it, I know I’ll be rendered speechless even though I’ll need to find a way to talk and keep my cool at the same time.
Juliet flings the door open and looks past me, her eyes wide with hope. Her hair is down and looks incredible, like a thick shawl spread over her bare shoulders. I’m going to find a way to touch that hair.
“Where’s Ben?” she asks, huffing.
I act offended, hoping to get a reaction. “Hello to you, too, gorgeous.” She smiles, refocuses, and waves me in.
I hand her a beer and scan the room. Juliet’s half is messy and disorganized, but the other half is untouched. “Gorgeous, huh?” she asks. She sits on the bed, crosses her long legs underneath her, and pushes a pile of clothes to the side. My heart skips a beat at the sight of the lacy black bra folded on top. “I’ve known you for about five minutes and you’re already calling me gorgeous?” She opens her can, holding my gaze as she takes a sip.
“Only took me half a second in the train station to realize that.” I flip the desk chair and sit on it backwards, flashing my best smile.
She raises her eyebrows. “Where’s Ben?” Apparently, she has a one-track mind.
“Right behind me. He invited me on your dinner date.”
“He did? Please tell me you aren’t coming.”
“Juliet!” I gasp, feigning shock. “Don’t worry. I know you’ve been stalking him all day, so I declined his invitation.” She practically sighs with relief. Ouch. “We talked about you.”
She squints. “What’d he say?” Even though she’s fishing for Ben information, I appreciate her momentary focus.
“We talked about how hot you are.” Her eyes dance. I lean in and smell her shampoo. Flowers. “He told me you’re a ballerina.”
“I am.” I hear the flirt in her tone. “Are you a ballet fan?”
“I love ballerinas.” I’ve loved plenty of ballerinas, actually, but I don’t tell her that. “Are you any good?” As I open my can I count all the ways I’m violating the NLP. First, I’m lusting after my roommate’s pseudo-girlfriend. Now, I’m drinking. Juliet is a beautiful sight, and the beer is so refreshing, I have no choice but to hit the pause button on the NLP.
“I am. Except here I’m like a fish out of water. I have to find a new studio.”
“What are you doing at NJU? Shouldn’t you be on stage somewhere?”
“I can’t go pro with this body.”
Juliet drinks as she watches me look her over. “Your body looks fine to me,” I say, then gulp my beer.
“Good to know, Train Boy.” She looks down at her chest. “But my boobs are too big to go pro.”
I spit out my beer as she laughs. It’s a cute, musical melody that flashes pink, like cotton candy across my mind. “I don’t even know how to respond.”
“Haven’t you looked?”
When she looks down to examine herself, I shut my eyes and conjure an image of Yankee Stadium. But when I open them again, she’s looking at me through those long lashes.
“I must be losing my touch.” She runs her hands over the front of her shirt, smoothing the fabric over her body.
I fidget, but I take the bait. “Don’t worry. You’re not. I’ve looked.” But I look again anyway. Her thin, light blue shirt, and the matching bra straps peeking over her shoulders do a phenomenal job of keeping her perfect breasts snug. Underneath, I see her ribcage and maybe even a trace of ab muscle. Jesus help me. “I put you at a full B cup. Maybe a small C?”
“You’re good.”
I shift, grateful the back of the chair hides my groin. Jeter, O’Neill, Williams, Martinez…
Juliet continues, “Even though I’ve been cursed with the small Cs, I still need dance and music in my life.” Her voice lowers. “Dancing is like breathing to me.”
“I understand.” It’s how I describe painting—natural to me, like
breathing.
She looks back up at me and smiles. “So, what else did Ben say?”
And just like that, we’re back to the default—Ben. “He told me you were homecoming king and queen but you’re just friends.”
“Friends?” She scrunches her face. “Ew.”
“You really are obsessed with this guy, huh? Ever think of playing hard to get?”
“Nope.”
“At least you’re honest.” We toast to honesty, clinking our cans together. I love the way she keeps her eyes on me as she chugs her beer—
Until someone knocks on the door.
The happiness that registers on her face at the sound of that knock reminds me of a kid on Christmas morning.
“Jules?” Ben calls from the hallway.
Juliet’s eyes light up. She hands me the beer and prances to the door, and then flings it open and jumps into Ben’s arms. “I’m so happy to see you.” Her voice changes when she talks to Ben, like she’s letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
“Me, too.” He lifts her and swings her around. She clings to him, the lucky bastard. When he puts her down, he turns to me. “You taking care of my girl?”
His girl. Even though I came to college to get a new start—to stay away from women and focus on repairing myself—my stomach sinks. I’ve only known his girl for a few hours and here I am, insanely jealous of my new roommate and Juliet’s obvious love for him.
She should be my girl, I want to say, but instead I mumble, “I’m trying.” He doesn’t seem jealous at all. Why would he? She’s beaming at him, not me.
Juliet
I fall into a Ben trance at dinner, watching him smile, listening to his stories, forgetting everything around me. I don’t snap out of it until we are at the crowded RA meeting sitting on the carpet of the first floor common room.
The Resident Assistant, some douchebag who calls himself “Dolch,” calls the meeting to order. Words like “safety,” “rules,” and “respect” are so overused I zone out and lean into Ben’s big body. Dolch tells us this year’s university theme is “unity” which to me sounds terribly cliché, but I don’t care. I glue my arm to Ben’s so all the girls know he’s mine. He will be soon enough.
She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) Page 2