The basement isn't nearly as crowded as the living room, but it's full enough that when I step off the stairs, he’s blocked from my view. Rose seems to know where she's going though, and I follow her.
Before I even recognize that she's found him, TJ's got her in his arms and dips over her in a deep kiss. When they break apart, he continues to whisper things to her that has her giggling.
I turn away, and it's only Layla still standing with me, so we walk together into the crowd.
“Hey.” Kyle greets us, materializing from between a group of people with a drink in his hand.
I nod at him tight lipped, but Layla returns his greeting.
He steps to my side with a bright smile and gestures his cup towards TJ. “Don't worry. My job's done. Looks like he gets her whether you're around or not now.”
“Job well done.”
He laughs at my dry tone. “Yeah. Well, I'm sure there will be a new girl soon for me to scare away, she's reaching her limit.”
“Kyle,” Layla yells with a laugh. “Stop being a jerk.” She slaps his arm and earns a glare in return.
“Don't even start with me, Layla. I'm not saying anything but the truth.” He turns to me and puts out his hand. “Peace offering. Let me get you a drink.”
“I'll pour my own drink, thanks.” I'm still wary of him.
“Fine. I'll show you where they are.” He slides his hand to my back but I step to the side and gesture for him to lead the way.
There's a well-stocked fridge and keg in the corner of the room. Kyle pulls two plastic cups from the top of the fridge and hands one to Layla and me. “Liquors behind the bar, Layla. What do you want?” He questions me.
But my words stick in my throat when Andrew steps beside him. His dark hair is in a sexy mess, his green eyes bright against his golden tan, but there's nothing warm in his words to Kyle. “I thought you were leaving?”
“In a little bit,” Kyle mumbles. “We won today, Drew.”
“Yeah, we did.” He glances at Layla and me, then back to Kyle. “But I still need to talk to you.”
“All right, fine.” Kyle walks off into the crowd.
Andrew turns towards me, his gaze softening as it lands on my face. His voice is even softer. “I want to talk to you, too. I'll find you later.”
I want to say no. I want to shake my head. But he doesn’t give me a chance. He turns and follows Kyle before I can respond.
“What was that about?” Layla steps in front of me, her heart shaped face pinched with suspicion.
I shake my head. “I don't know.”
“You don't know?” Her voice is high and whiney. “You don't know why he wants to talk to you? Didn't he take you home the other night? Why would he need to talk to you now?”
My stomach dips, swishing the alcohol I'd already consumed. “I'm going to find Rose. I'm going home.” I walk away from her, not wanting to explain anything.
Rose is still with TJ. She's on the couch with him, a drink in her hand. She sits up towards me when I approach.
“I'm going to leave now. Everything okay?” I question in her ear for only her to hear.
She smiles wide and nods, pulling me back to speak in my ear. “Yeah, we're leaving soon, too. I'll see you in the morning.”
I don't look for the other girls, but walk straight for the stairs and out the door, weaving between hot bodies on my way out.
“Hey sweetheart, you all alone?” one guy yells from the porch as I walk away from the house, but I ignore his drunken catcalls and keep going.
When a hand lands on my shoulder, I jump with a yell, spinning towards whoever’s behind me.
“Sorry. It's me, Scott. Didn't mean to scare you.” He half laughs with his hands raised. “Sorry, really. I thought it was you leaving.”
It takes a moment for me to catch my breath from the fright constricting my lungs, but he continues talking with observant eyes on me.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my dorm.” I give him a smile to reassure him that I'm okay.
“Alone? Who's going with you?”
“I'm getting a cab.” I brush off his concern. I know the dangers of walking alone, but I know bad things can happen anytime, too. I've learned to numb the constant fear.
“Oh.” He swipes his hand through his styled hair. It has to be styled as tall as the swoop is, but it looks so soft in the moonlight. “Well, I wanted to let you know, I got the permission of the Frat to use the field on Charles street, and they agreed to come next Saturday to help with the party.”
My heart leaps to my throat, and I wrap my arms around him instantly, overcome with gratitude.
“Thank you.” I speak over his shoulder as he dips down to hug me back, his arms around my waist. “Thank you.”
My conversation with the mother earlier today is stuck in my head; she had been so upset not to be able to provide a birthday party for her soon to be four-year-old son who had spent most of his life in and out of hospitals. Now he was in remission from leukemia, but the bills from his treatment left them with little money. This was his first birthday where he wasn't in a hospital though, so they were grateful. But I had thought to make next Saturday's clinic a celebration for him, and now Scott’s made it something even better.
His arms loosen their grip, reminding me that I'm still clinging to him.
I slide away, holding in the tears that fill my eyes. “That's amazing for you to have done that, really. Thank you.”
“It's no problem.” He directs a shy half smile my way. “And after talking to Professor Yates, he agreed to let me assist in his case study on community impacts on doctors care. This helps with that. It'll be great on my resume to med school.”
He deserves my full attention, and I try to give it, but Andrew approaching steals some of it away. It steals some of the warmth I felt moments ago, too, replacing it with a sickening anticipation.
“That's great. Whatever the reason,” I keep talking, ignoring Andrew as he steps to the side of Scott, all his attention on me. “I'll call his mom tomorrow and let her know.”
Scott doesn't ignore him though. He keeps glancing to him, his confidence slipping away. “I'm glad I could help. I wanted to tell you sooner, but lost your number.”
Andrew turns to him then. His cool gaze holds an unmistakable challenge.
Scott doesn't continue the stare down, but I rise to the challenge, fueled by anger and alcohol.
“I'll call you right now, so you'll have my number again. I still have yours.” I pull out my phone and pound on the screen, taking longer than I like to find his number. But eventually, the faint sound of music is heard from his pocket.
“That's me,” I speak cheerfully and slide my phone back into my shorts pockets. “I'll call you tomorrow to go over details. See ya later.”
I turn to leave, but fingers slide against mine and barely grab a hold, but it stills my whole body.
“Wait.” Andrew's voice is low, dripping over me like honey. “I need to talk to you.”
7: Eye Of A Hurricane
A chill prickles across my skin as I turn towards him. Looking into his eyes is a mistake, but inescapable. He appears sincere; nothing like the rude boy who labeled me scared and dismissed me for not taking him to my room.
But it is him.
I slip my fingers out of his light hold as I step back. “Not tonight, I'm going home now.”
“Should I get a cab for you?” Scott speaks up, still standing off to the side of us, his light eyes carefully trained on me.
“You should go back inside. I'll make sure she gets home,” there's a dominance running through Andrew's casual tone and the way he holds himself, obviously bigger than Scott.
Scott doesn't move or respond to him, but looks back to me with a question in his gaze.
My heart's skipping beats, but I respond to Scott, “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
There's a moment, a brief, terrible moment, that I think he might not leave, but then
he nods and walks away, back to the frat that's still lit up and pulsing from the music playing inside. It may be the middle of the night, but the area is just as alive as when we arrived, maybe even more so.
I avoid looking at Andrew as I head for the sidewalk.
“Just give me a minute.” He cuts off my path with a few long strides.
“For what?” I step back to look up at him, and my urge to flea makes me louder than necessary. “No, I already know. And I don't want to hear it anymore. Please, just get out of my way and let me leave.”
“I've been thinking about you all week.”
Air's forced from my lungs when his soft admission hits me.
“I shouldn't have said what I said that night.”
“Is that an apology?” My heart's racing, warning me that I need to leave, but there's a stillness in him that's luring me in, even if it's a false calm—the eye of a hurricane.
He lifts one shoulder in a slow shrug. “If that's what you need.”
“Fayden, good game man,” someone yells.
We turn to the voice. Two couples walk down the porch of the Frat, one guy practically caring the girl in his arms. Their drunken giggles are louder than the bass vibrating the air around us.
Andrew nods to them but speaks to me, “Walk with me for a minute.” He seizes my hand, surprising me.
“What?” I question as he tugs me forward, forcing me to follow close behind him on the sidewalk that lines the row of Frat houses. “What are you doing?”
“Hear me out, and then I'll get you cab, I promise.”
I can't break his firm grip, but it's hard to keep up with his pace and I'm practically speed walking. I speak up before he can lead me across the street to campus. “Slow down. I haven't agreed.”
He stops walking and turns to face me, pulling me closer at the same time. We're on the edge of frat row, a little further away from the groups of partiers, but still visible to anyone who cares to look.
He keeps his grip on my hand, but his other hand slips behind my neck, like it's the most natural thing to do. “I'm sorry. Okay? Now, walk with me.”
A chill ripples through my muscles, from his touch, from his words. He must feel it because his hand drops, sliding over my shoulder, chasing and intensifying the current prickling my skin.
His eyes follow his fingers till they reach my hands and then his gaze slides back up to mine. “Will you walk with me, Brook?”
I nod my head, stomach twisting with uncertainty at my decision, but I agree to go. His grip retightens on my hand, and he pulls me to his side as we cross the main road.
This side of the street has no one on it but us. It's lit up, but appears shadowed in contrast with the bright lights from the fraternities.
He walks us a little further, till we're in the cover of old brick buildings and large oak trees, a more historic part of campus. And my heart settles in my stomach as I realize I willingly let him lead me away, to take me somewhere secluded. I know what he wants from me. He had been very clear about that last time, I shouldn't have been so foolish as to follow.
“This is far enough,” I speak up and let my panic free, trying to pull away.
He doesn't release my hand, but he stops walking and turns towards me, hovering too close, his heat seeping into my clothes. “Why did you leave?”
I look up to him, my instincts in chaos, wanting to run, to touch him, to hit him, to kiss him. But all I do is strain to breathe, uncomprehending his question as I meet his hooded eyes looking down on me.
“I told you to wait for me. That I wanted to talk to you, but you left.”
I stare at my hand disappeared in his larger grip and carefully pull out of it as I state the truth, “I didn't want to talk to you.”
“But you do now?” His fingers are gentle against my chin as he lifts my head till I'm looking at him.
I can't think when I'm trapped in those eyes. But I force my head to shake, to deny my presence here. Why am I here? I can’t even blame the alcohol in my blood.
His fingers disappear, and he steps back with a sneer, sliding his hand over his dark waves till he's gripping the back of his neck. The sleeve of his light t-shirt rides up, and his muscles stretch and flex under the dark ink decorating his skin.
“You prefer to talk to that Bruno Mars wannabe?”
“What?” I snap my eyes back to his.
“That preppy fucker you were talking to.” He swipes his hand over his head to mime Scott's hairstyle—it was a little like Bruno Mars tonight.
I laugh because it's ridiculous, all of this.
His lips curl up and he hangs his head slightly, the frustration giving way to something I can only hope is embarrassment. But he slips back into that deep calm that drew me in earlier when he asks, “Why don't you want to talk to me?”
I should have a hundred reasons, but I can't seem to retrieve them in my swirl of thoughts. I close my eyes to steady myself and begin speaking, the one thing that should matter to him, too. “You saw who I was came to the party with. Tatum's nice—”
“She's not your friend,” he spits it out like the idea is foul.
“She could be.” I take another step away, bracing for more harsh words. “If I give it a chance.”
“But I'd ruin that chance?” Those eyes reach into me as he questions, “And what about me?”
The vulnerability in his words, in his questioning stare gives me pause, but I’m not sure it's real. “What about you?”
“I could be your friend, if you gave it a chance.”
Now I knew he was faking it. I cross my arms and eye him skeptically. “You want to be my friend?”
He shrugs carelessly. “I could give it a try.”
“You don't want to be friends. You just want to sleep with me.”
“I thought you didn't assume things?” He lifts his brow with a smug grin.
He's trying to trap me, use my words against me, and I pause to think this through. The parties in the distance brighten the night sky above the trees but otherwise are unseen. “You can't be friends with someone you're too afraid to be seen with.”
His expression drops and he steps towards me. “Who says I'm afraid to be seen with you?”
I gesture to the space around us. “Besides a few words, you ignore me in a group. You always wait till we're alone or you pull me away.”
“I've been trying to fuck you, better to get you alone for that. But this will be different.”
My blood burns with his words, it should be anger, but it’s not. Not when he stands so close, filling my senses with his warmth and stormy scent, his energy surrounding me.
“I'm not afraid for anyone to see me with you. We can go back to the party right now if that will get you to agree.” He challenges me with a sexy grin.
“Agree to what?”
“To give us a chance to be friends.”
I run my fingers through my hair, blowing out air as I try to process what's happening. “You just admitted you want to …” I mumble over the words. “This won't work. You'll be done with me in a week.”
“You want to bet?” He's way too excited by this entire conversation.
“No.” I let out an exasperated laugh. “That's not how—”
“Give me a week. Try this friends thing for a week, lets see what happens.”
I can only stare at him, so sure in himself, in this… bet? “I don't even know what this means.”
His grin spreads, one dimple appearing as he dips his head to me. “Baby, I don't know either. But I'm up for trying something new. What about you?”
“Not friends with benefits.” Did I mean that as a question?
He takes a moment to answer, the air between us alive and full of energy as I anticipate his response. The mix in his gaze is indecipherable but intense and bright. “For the week, I'll try.”
“So… what's the bet?” I ask, hesitant still.
His teeth sinks into his full bottom lip, his gaze electric. “We'll take it one
day at a time, and leave the terms open till the end of the week.” He sweeps my hand up in his. “Let's start by getting you that cab home. I'll share it with you, that's what friends do, right?”
He sucks me into this thing, not even waiting for me to agree, not that I want to refuse. He's too intriguing, alluring, and willing to give me something different—or so he claims. I'll give him the week to find out.
* * *
Returning home is as comforting as it is stressful. The moment I cross into Kingstree, the urge to hide pulls on me; it's a familiar feeling. I could turn and leave. I could never come back, but I can't do that to my mom— not like my sister.
I take the long way to my house, avoiding the center of town, avoiding seeing anyone, sliding right back under my rock. I'm better at college. I'm doing better there. But here, here it'll never change. I know that. My mother still needs to realize it, but she's holding out for something else. She's holding out for her other daughter, London. And sometimes, I fear that will never change either.
I'm not surprised to see our mailbox cocked to the side and dented. Someone must have hit it again. At least this time it’s still left standing, still usable.
I park in our driveway and then right the mailbox so it at least sits on the post straight, even if it’s not secure, before I go inside.
“Mom,” I yell into the silent house as I enter the split foyer, unsure if she's in the den or in her bedroom upstairs.
“I'm up here,” she calls down from her bedroom.
The home isn't large, and I reach her quick enough to see she's just climbing out of bed.
“Still sleeping?”
“Didn't expect you so early.” She smiles at me though, one of those gentle smiles that always makes me want to hug her. “Does this mean I get to spend all day with you?”
I lean against her doorframe while she makes her side of the sheets. The mint green comforter is still untouched and smooth on the other half of the big bed. With her back to me, I take the opportunity to break the news so I don't have to see any hurt on her face. “No, I just came for an early visit. I have a lot of homework I need to get done for the week.”
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