She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1)

by Jessica Calla

  Everyone watches me unfold the note and touch the fancy “P” embedded on the front. The thick paper is heavy in my hands as I read the handwritten note aloud:

  Dear Juliet Anderson,

  I am sorry for this intrusion and for my delay in joining you. I had late summer business to attend to in India. These men are setting up my room so I will not have to when I arrive on Saturday. I have a busy schedule this weekend.

  I told them, what you say goes. My phone number is below if they give you a problem. I look forward to meeting you and hope all is going well.

  See you Saturday,

  Pooja Pravali

  The note results in more questions than answers as my friends bombard the men for details. “Business to attend to in India? Is she, like, a princess or something?”

  “Oh, she has business so she must be a princess because she’s a girl?”

  “An Indian princess at NJU?”

  “Do they even have princesses in India?”

  “Why are we talking about princesses? Maybe she’s a volunteer or something.”

  Suitcase Man smiles. “She is not a princess in the Western sense of the word. But she is royalty amongst us.”

  “Royalty? At NJU? Who gets a group of guys to unpack her shit for her?” Poppy asks. I have to agree that, princess or not, Pooja Pravali seems like a powerful woman. I could use a powerful woman in my life. I can’t wait to meet her.

  As the men finish splaying color throughout the room, I usher them out the door.

  “Can you come do that to my room?” Poppy asks, following them down the hallway. Everyone leaves except Megan.

  “Pooja sounds interesting,” she comments, checking out the statues on Pooja’s dresser.

  “Yeah, what just happened?” I peek into Pooja’s closet and look at a tag.

  “Juliet?”

  “Hmm.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  I know what it’ll be about before she even asks. “Sure.”

  “It’s about Ben.”

  Uh-huh. “What about him?”

  Megan paces the small room. “I know you guys are close…he talks about you all the time.”

  Does he? She’s lucky I hate Ben today. Otherwise, I’d probably reach across the room and strangle her little blonde head. “We’re just friends, Megan.”

  She exhales, and her tense body relaxes as she sits on my bed. “In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked him out?”

  I freeze and stare at her. I may be in a Ben funk, but the thought of him with Megan makes my stomach churn. Still, Megan looks so hopeful, waiting for my approval, so I decide to let her ask. Worst case scenario, he goes on a date with her and realizes what he has with me is so much better.

  “Not at all. Ask away. Good luck.”

  “You’re sure? Because I don’t mind—”

  I tsk and wave, drawing her toward the door. “Really. It’s fine.”

  “Okay, then. Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. It’s a free country, right?” I pull the door open wider so she gets the hint. When she leaves, I shut it behind her.

  Ugh. This year is not starting out as planned.

  Chase

  When Juliet slams the door in my face, I’m not surprised even though I did nothing wrong.

  “Open the door, Juliet.” I pound my fist against the door. “I’m going to keep knocking until you let me in. I can do it all night.”

  Winston is the first one into the hallway. “Chase, come on man. Give it a rest.”

  Frank’s next. “Jesus, Chase. Cut it out. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  I shout through the door. “Hear that, Juliet? You’re driving the neighbors crazy. Let me in.” I keep pounding.

  Megan walks down the hall and glares at me. “Sorry,” I whisper, but continue banging.

  She stands next to me. “Juliet? It’s Megan.” Her voice shakes as she tries to yell over the pounding of my fists. “Please let Chase in. He looks really sorry for whatever he did.”

  No response. Megan looks at me, and I shrug. If Juliet’s going to open the door for anyone, it’s not going to be Meg—the girl she’s competing with for Ben’s attention.

  I get back to banging until Rocco flies out of room four and beelines for me. I flinch, and Megan scurries back to her room.

  “Anderson!” Rocco points his finger at the door, his face inches from it as he yells. “Open the fucking door or I’m going to beat the crap out of Cooper. I’m not kidding.”

  I’m more than a little scared that she still won’t open the door and that Rocco actually will hit me. But I don’t let up even though my fists throb and I’m under threat of getting my ass kicked. Rocco glares at me, and I shrug, whispering, “Sorry, dude.” When Rocco yells again, I hear the click of the lock.

  Rocco backs away, veins popping out of his huge neck. “You two pull this shit again and I’ll rip down this door.” I hold my hands up in surrender. Dude’s wound too tightly.

  I push open the door but contemplate whether it’s safer in the hallway. Juliet sits at her desk, studying, with her earbuds in. I’d heard about the mysterious Pooja and her moving men, so I check out the other side of the room before sitting on Juliet’s bed. She’s bent over a notebook ignoring me. I love the way her hair lays over her back.

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  She acts like she can’t hear me. I tug her earbuds out but she doesn’t turn around. “Look, I’m not going to apologize. Ben asked me to hang with you yesterday because he thought you were upset. He didn’t realize I was planning on hanging with you anyway.”

  “Whatever.” She speaks. I’ll take any response at this point.

  I tap her shoulder and say, “Turn around,” but she still doesn’t move. I’d like to see her face, so I blurt, “I’m sorry.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to apologize.”

  I sigh. “Turn around.”

  Juliet ignores me again, so I try the honesty approach. “When Ben asked me to check on you, I didn’t want to tell him I’d planned on hunting you down already. I thought he’d get jealous and you’d get weird.”

  “I don’t get weird” she says.

  I hold myself back from yelling, turn around dammit! “You absolutely get weird, especially when it comes to Ben. I had a nice time with you yesterday. I like you.”

  Like isn’t the right word, but I’m not sure what is. I want to tell her it’s okay if she likes me back. It’s okay I touched her and she took a step into my world. But I can’t take that step. “I like you, like you,” I end up muttering.

  She shakes her head. “Now you’re getting weird.”

  “I don’t get weird,” I tease.

  With that, she finally turns toward me. As we sit face-to-face, my insides twist when I realize she’s right. I’m weird. I’m a guy, for Christ’s sake. I have a history a mile long with girls and for some reason this one—this gorgeous, snotty, obsessed-with-my-roommate brunette—has my insides tied in knots.

  “Don’t think that just because you’re looking at me with those stupid purple eyes I believe you.” She turns away and her voice lowers, but I think she says, “It’s easier if I don’t.”

  Stupid purple eyes? “Did you say it’s easier if you don’t? Why?”

  She huffs. “Just go away, Chase. I can’t deal with you.”

  “Because…?” I won’t let her off the hook.

  She whirls around and glares. “Because I’m studying and listening to music, and because I hate you but you’re impossibly cute.” Cute? Score two for Team Chase. “And you know how I feel about Ben.”

  I ignore the Ben talk and focus on the positives. “You said I’m cute.”

  “You must know you’re cute.” She runs her hand down her hair, and I have to touch it. I reach out and tug a strand. “Ouch!”

  I don’t apologize. “Cute makes me sound like a puppy dog. I prefer sexy.” I’m teasing, of course. I’ll take cute any day from Juliet.

  �
��You’re cute like a big, dumb puppy dog who is so pathetic he can’t help but be loved.” When she smiles, the pink swirls around her, like it did the day before in my apartment. This time, I try to focus on it before it disappears. It’s sort of like a cloud that’s only half there. It’s visible, but transparent. Smaller particles of color are clinging together for movement. Can she see it? Am I the only one?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Because you’re in a sea of pink. I shift and look to Pooja’s side of the room. Topic change time. “Have you gone through your roommate’s stuff yet?”

  “Jeez, Chase, no!”

  “You must have peeked a little.”

  She smiles and glances at Pooja’s closet. “Maybe I accidentally opened the closet and accidentally saw she and I are the same size. Clothes and shoes.”

  “Informative accidents. She’s tall like you?”

  “I guess so.” She’s back to herself as she talks clothes. “She has a great wardrobe. Fancy stuff too, like saris and silk.”

  “I bet you’d look incredible in a sari. Maybe you can borrow some of it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Am I forgiven for doing nothing wrong?” I hate that she hasn’t talked to me all day. “If you don’t forgive me, I’m going to bang on your door all night and Rocco’s going to beat me up and my blood will be on your hands.”

  “Okay, okay, you big, pathetic puppy. You’re forgiven.” She waves at me. “Now shoo.”

  I smile. “You’re not going to pet me?”

  “No, you freak. But, Chase…” Her brow furrows as she holds my gaze. “Will you promise to be honest with me? After all the shit with Ben, I just need someone to be straight with me.” When I try to interrupt her, she holds up her hand. “If you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s fine. Just tell me. Don’t babysit for Ben because he feels guilty—”

  “I thought we established that I did want to hang out with you because I like you. I want to hang out with you every friggin’ day. You are by far the coolest chick I’ve met here.” She’s by far the coolest chick I’ve met anywhere. Just my luck she’s obsessed with my roommate.

  Her pink pout turns to a grin. “Even cooler than Megan?”

  “Way.”

  “Tina?”

  “Well…” I tease, squinting as if I’m undecided. She glares at me, and I blurt, “Yeah, way cooler than Tina.”

  When she giggles pink again, it reminds me of the sketch in my back pocket. I pull it out and hand it to her.

  She scans the page, and her eyes get big. “What’s this?”

  “You. I made it yesterday.” I’d drawn her last night, with her on her toes and her arms stretched overhead in one of the ballet poses.

  Her brown eyes dance over the picture. I’d tried to capture the joy on her face, not just her perfect body. Drawing her had turned me on, but seeing her study the drawing turns me on even more. To be honest, being in her presence turns me on. I’m the most pathetic guy in the world.

  She flips the picture toward me and points at it. “It’s freaking awesome.”

  “You’re awesome. Did you contact the studio for classes?”

  “I did but I can’t afford it. I’ll have to stay local.” She sighs. “Sucks.”

  I know I won’t let that happen. I’ll make a call to Gram’s accountant, figure out how to tap my trust fund, and have an anonymous scholarship available for Juliet from Miss Stephanie. Done.

  “Something will work out. You’ll be dancing in no time.”

  She smiles. “Damn straight. Even if I’m dancing up and down the hallway.”

  “That would be a sight.” I ruffle her hair because I want to touch her again, and then lift her hand to kiss it. “I’m sorry you were upset with me.”

  “I’m sorry Rocco almost beat you up. You’re persistent.” She glances down my body.

  “Sometimes.” Her gaze lingers around my shoulders then returns to my face. “See something you like, gorgeous?”

  “Egomaniac much?” She chuckles and points to the door. “Out.”

  “Later?” There’s no hiding the twinge of hope in my voice.

  “Later.”

  As I walk down the hallway, I realize I may be turning into a chick. I just apologized for who knows what, told this strange new girl that she’s awesome, and now I’m going to finance her dance education. I’m a big, dumb bag of feelings around my roommate’s hot admirer.

  So much for my NLP and its no-women clause. Turns out, Juliet Anderson is way more fun.

  Chapter Seven

  Juliet

  Miss Stephanie calls me on Thursday to advise me of a scholarship that hasn’t been claimed. I could take as many classes as I’d like at her studio. After thanking her profusely and checking the class schedule, I rush around my room, put on my leotard and tights under a skirt and cardigan, and try to make it to the next advanced class.

  I run down the hall, my ballet bag swinging behind me, and knock on Chase’s door.

  Ben answers. “Hey, Jules! What’s up? You look like you’re going to ballet.”

  Although I’m in a hurry, seeing Ben automatically slows my pulse. “I am. I need to ask Chase how to get there. Is he around?” Ben’s jeans are tight around his thighs and his big arms strain against the seams of his polo shirt. I get warm thinking of how those arms wrap me up when I need them.

  “No, he’s not back yet. Do you want me to take you?”

  Amazingly, I don’t. “Not necessary. Thanks, though.”

  He holds my arm as I try to walk away. “Hey, do you want to hang out later?” His brown eyes search mine. Something’s up with him, but I don’t have the time to talk.

  Hang out? “Um, maybe? I have to get on the train. I’ll text Chase and call you later.” I break his grasp and dart down the hallway.

  Ben calls after me. “Jules?”

  “Yep?” I spin around impatiently and adjust my ballet bag on my shoulder, inching toward the exit.

  “You aren’t mad at me, are you? About earlier in the week?”

  I am. I was. I hate him. I love him. But now, at this moment, I’m just sort of…whatever. “I can’t really talk now—”

  “I know. You have to go. It’s just…I’ve barely seen you since Monday night.”

  Guys are so confusing. “We’ll hang out soon, okay? How about tomorrow? Dinner?” I continue to creep toward the exit.

  “That sounds good. I’ll text you.”

  I run out of Sheridan, through campus, and to the train while texting Chase. He says he’s in the city and offers to meet me at the station.

  On the other side of the river, I see him first but almost don’t recognize him. Dressed in a grey suit and a white dress shirt open at the collar, he looks, well, awesome. He’s Movie Star Chase, leaning against a wall near the giant map focused on his phone. In contrast to the dark, dirty train station, he’s a shining beacon of light. It’s odd he’s so dressed up, but I appreciate the image.

  His face lights up when he sees me. “Hey, gorgeous.” I remember his, “I like you” speech and grin. I beeline for him and he touches my hair, which is rolled on top of my head in a bun. “You look so cute.”

  I smile and scrunch my nose. “My ballet look. In an hour, I hope to be a ball of sweat and tears. You, though…wow. What’s going on? Got a prom to go to?”

  He shakes his head and scoffs. “Ha. No. Art gallery stuff. We’re hosting a new artist, so I thought I’d check out how it works. My first big boy gig. You’ve inspired me to try the grown-up thing.”

  “I’m sorry I pulled you away…I had no idea.”

  He takes my hand. “It’s okay. I wanted to see you. Let’s go.”

  Chase leads me into the city. Even at sunset on a weekday, people swarm downtown. Chase expertly maneuvers through the streets and gets me to the dance studio in minutes. He stops at the door and touches my bun again. “Enjoy your first class. When you’re done, come across the street and I’ll show you around.”
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  I stand on my toes and tousle his hair. “Have fun being a grown-up.” He waves without turning around, and I watch him walk across the street. From the back, in his suit, I can’t help but think he looks the part of the grown-up—all man, no boy.

  One step into the dance studio, and I feel like I’ve come home. Miss Stephanie pays extra attention to me, adjusting my positions, testing my knowledge and skill level. Even though it’s my first class, I’m light as a feather. The weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. The music, the company, the movements settle me, mentally and physically. As I do barre work, I look out the window down to the lights of Chase’s art gallery. I watch people enter and exit, wondering what he’s doing in there.

  After class, I text Chase that I’m too gross to step foot in the gallery. I assure him I’m fine getting back to the dorm, and I’ll catch up with him later. He texts me back instantly.

  Let me know when you’re on the train.

  I smile at my phone. He’s worried about me.

  On weeknights, after a certain hour I’ve yet to figure out, the trains run only on the half hour. As I hop down the stairs to the tracks, I watch my train speed away from the empty station. Dammit. Alone on the platform, I wonder if I should be worried. I wrap my pink cardigan tight around my waist and drop my ballet bag at my feet. I text Chase again.

  Just missed train. Ugh.

  Again, his response is instant.

  On my way.

  I text him back.

  No! Stay at your grown-up stuff. I’m okay.

  I ignore the solitude of the train station and think about ballet. I pace up and down the platform with endless energy, physically sore but mentally high from class. I hum the music and think through the choreography I’d learned.