by Daphne Slade
I know better than to express these thoughts out loud. Matt is a sensitive soul who has a habit of holding a grudge when his feelings have been hurt.
“I get it. You’re probably upset,” he says with a sigh.
A tad more than upset, but I wisely keep that to myself as well. I can already sense the gossip that will be spreading from how much has been overheard already. Hockey players are practically royalty at Devington, and their dating life is a continuously running theme in the rumor mill.
I stare down at my half-empty cup wondering how all of this went so wrong.
Last year this time, Matt was thrilled to see me after the few summer months apart. Then, throughout the year, we had so many good times. We’d study together and he’d break the monotony with a stupid joke. He’d occasionally cook me dinner, massage my neck, indulge my preference for retro music on his kick-ass sound system, and help me practice for class with flashcards.
There were so many little moments like that.
We also screwed like rabbits trying to repopulate the earth.
And it certainly wasn’t boring.
I roll my eyes up to Matt, wondering which bunny—or worse, how many?—he’s been sticking his dick in all summer.
“So, have you…been with anyone?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m not sure I even want to know the answer.
“It doesn’t matter,” Matt says, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “That’s the point of a break.”
Suddenly, I definitely want to know.
“Of course it matters!”
Matt sighs and drops his head to the table, then he sheepishly peeks one eye up. “Okay, no, I haven’t, um, been with anyone else, Grace.”
A wave of relief washes over me, cleansing away any lingering doubt. Maybe he’s just embarrassed to admit that he couldn’t cross that line, even on a break, which I, for one admire.
Technically, it wouldn’t have been cheating. Still, sex with another girl is something I don’t think I could have come back from. Anything else, I can accept, maybe even understand.
We can make this work.
“But that’s exactly it. It’s like Noah said—”
“Noah?” I interrupt, widening my eyes in alarm. “What did Noah tell you?”
I don’t expect too much from the guy, but to betray my trust in such a short amount of time is low even for him. That’s what I get for trying to be adventurous.
Matt’s brow furrows in confusion, and he briefly closes his eyes and shakes it off. “It doesn’t matter what he said exactly.”
“What did he say exactly?”
“Nothing—I mean…” Matt sits up as though some remembrance has just occurred to him. “He was the one to say that we’d probably be divorced in ten years.”
“Did he now?” I say in a clipped voice.
If I wanted to kill Noah back in Matt’s bedroom a few nights ago, right now I’d happily follow him down to hell and do it on repeat. At least it seems like he didn’t rat on me. Not that this is any better.
“Yeah, but he had a point. You don’t want that, do you? Hell, I don’t want that.” Matt gives me an encouraging smile. “This is good for you too, Grace. You can explore, be with other guys, find out what you really want.”
“I don’t want other guys, Matt. I was happy when I thought I had you. We were good together.”
I feel so blindsided.
“Who knows, maybe we’ll end up back together, stronger than ever because we both know what’s out there and it’s just not as good as what we had.”
He makes it sound so logical, like this is some science experiment to find the perfect mate.
Maybe that’s what it is.
An experiment.
I may not be the top student in my pre-med classes but I can still be perfectly logical and scientific about this.
Fine then.
If that’s what Matt wants, that’s what he’ll get.
Because Grace Arlington does not give up that easily.
My mother and father met their freshman year of college and they’ve had almost thirty years of a successful marriage. Why couldn’t the same be said of Matt and me?
“Okay.”
He blinks in surprise. “Okay?”
“Okay, let’s continue the break.”
His mouth works a bit before he starts to form actual words. “Are you…um…is that what you really want?”
Of course not!
“Yes.”
A crooked, uncertain smile forms on his lips. “Well, okay.” He gives me a hesitant look. “I really think this could be a good thing, Grace.”
I force a smile to my own lips. “So do I, Matt.”
Chapter Four
Grace
It’s a good half-hour walk back to my apartment, but thankfully I’ve worn black flats. I thought the exercise would clear my head and make me feel better, despite the lingering heat of late summer, but by the time I make it to my apartment building just off campus, the latte begins to feel like curdled milk in my stomach.
What the hell did I just agree to?
Be with other guys?
Explore my options?
A part of me wonders if Matt and I really can come back from this.
But three years is too long to just completely give up on us. Especially when everything was going so well. We were like a perfectly tuned locomotive running on a track headed to our happily ever after…only to derail just before the switch of graduating.
It could still work out.
After all, I’m Grace Arlington, daughter of Dr. (Ph.D.) and Dr. (M.D.) Arlington. I was raised to excel in every area of life. My parents certainly didn’t allow me to quit piano lessons or tennis or chess club when I got bored or found it too difficult. We do not give up.
And this will be no exception.
My parents’ emphasis may have been on the academic—an area where my inability to make it into Harvard might as well have put an ironic crimson letter on my chest—but they have little tolerance for failure in other areas as well.
I can only imagine what my older sister and younger sister, now both proud wearers of the Harvard crimson, will have to say when I show up to Thanksgiving this year without Matt by my side as usual.
Something about that strengthens my resolve.
I’ve got to at least try to make this work.
When I arrive at my apartment, I close my eyes and take a deep breath before opening the door to face my roommate, Erin. I don’t want to ruin the start of her year with my messy relationship problems.
The two of us met when we decided to pair up together for one of the labs freshman year. She was always quick with a joke or sinfully amusing quip about what we were working on, which made me laugh despite myself. Later on, I was always happy to help with her required liberal arts classes, and she’s a math genius who helped me with my statistics course. We’ve been roommates and best friends ever since.
I force a smile to my face and open the door.
Erin is on the sofa talking on the phone. Her dark brown legs are hugged to her chest as she smiles with pleasure into the phone. That tells me all I need to know about who’s on the other end, her boyfriend, Clark.
She narrows her eyes to study me, then curls one side of her mouth down as though she absolutely sees through my facade.
“Oh hey, Clark, I’ve got to hang up. Serious business at hand,” she says, sitting up on the couch.
I furrow my brow and shake my head while mouthing the words, “no, don’t.”
She just purses her lips and finalizes her goodbye to her boyfriend.
“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” she says into the phone, rolling her eyes even though her face is back to beaming with pleasure.
I temper the spark of envy that flashes in me. When was the last time Matt told me he loved me?
Maybe we were getting stagnant, after all.
“Alright, come to mama,” Erin says, reaching her arms out toward me after setting her ph
one down.
I give up the act and trudge toward the sofa to fall down next to her. She swings her long braids out of the way and brings me in for a hug.
“You didn’t have to hang up, Erin.”
“Nonsense, Clark knows my girl comes first, especially when she has a broken heart. I take it the cord is officially cut?” she asks as she gives me a good squeeze.
“Basically. He wants to continue the break indefinitely.”
“So in other words, screw around until his dick gets tired of some strange and comes back to pussy he knows is golden.”
“Erin!” I protest, but eventually start laughing so hard I can’t stop. I pull away and try to drag myself back into self-pity again, if only because I think I deserve a bit more time to wallow in it than half an hour. It’s no use; I can’t stop laughing. “You’re so gross.”
“And you know you love it.”
That’s one of the things I find amusing about the two of us. I grew up in Boston, the snobby part of Boston. My parents might as well have their noses surgically turned up in the air for how pretentious they are.
Erin grew up in Atlanta and is about as easy-going, and uncensored, as they come. She’s not only helped me shed some of that New England elitism drilled into me since birth, but introduced me to language that would give my parents a shit fit (case in point).
“It seems the whole fifty shades of pink schtick would have gone completely to waste, after all,” I say with a sigh, pulling away. “I’m almost glad he didn’t come home to find me that night.”
Never mind the humiliation of who did find me like that.
“Girl, consider yourself lucky. Matt was going to play the field no matter what. He would have gotten one last playdate out of you that night, then taken his little behind back out to the playground to roll round in the sand with all the other girls. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than pre-breakup sex.”
“How about getting caught by his best friend?”
A sly grin appears on her face. “Even better. Hell, you’re a free agent now, Grace. Get you some. There are worse candidates than Noah Donahue. If I wasn’t taken myself, I’d happily be one of his willing victims.”
“Um, have you forgotten what I told you about freshman year?”
“That was when he was young and stupid. All boys are at eighteen.”
The things Noah said about me were more than hurtful. Then came the teasing. I can still hear the soft braying sounds coming from the back of the classroom as Noah imitated a donkey, the same kind he originally compared me to the first day of class. Even now, I feel my shoulders go tense, as though shielding me from the taunting laughter and giggles filling the back of the class as I sat in the front row.
I had thought college was going to be different from grade school through high school, where kids were absolutely merciless. Noah single-handedly shattered that hopeful illusion.
“It’s only been three years, Erin. He hasn’t grown all that much.” I roll my eyes as I think about some of the stupid things he said the night he found me in Matt’s apartment. “Besides, I have him to thank for all of this.”
“How so?”
“Apparently he was the one to convince Matt this was all for the better since we’d end up divorced in ten years.”
“You’re kidding.” She draws back and gives me an incredulous look.
“Nope, came straight from Matt’s mouth.”
“Well, tonight that means lots of wine and Supernatural.”
“You always know the way to my heart, Erin.”
She laughs and softly kicks one foot out at me. “Oh hey, before I forget, a package was delivered for you via campus mail.” She jumps up and crosses the room to where a long, flat box leans against the wall. I didn’t even notice it before.
“Me?” I squint my eyes in confusion. I can’t imagine who’d be sending me anything. My parents are most definitely not the care package type. And after that meeting in The Sin Bin, I don’t have to wonder if it came from Matt.
Erin grabs a pair of scissors on her way back and hands both to me. Campus mail has all the addresses for the students, in case someone wants to send something to a student without knowing exactly where they live. You can just drop it off with a name and it will get delivered. I frown at the box, then shake it, waiting for something dreadful to happen.
“Bad things come in threes right?” I say with hesitation.
What with Noah seeing me nearly naked and Matt essentially breaking up with me, I’ve already had my two.
“What’s that got to do with anything? You better open that box before I do.”
The box is too light for a bomb, glitter or otherwise. Besides, I don’t have any enemies that I can think of. I go at the taped edges with the scissors while Erin leans in with curiosity next to me.
Then, I gasp when I see what’s inside.
“Well, I’ll give it to you, when you come prepared, you come prepared,” Erin says with awe in her voice.
“I didn’t order this,” I say with indignation, turning to give her an incredulous look. I check the flaps of the outer box again, just to make sure the address is correct. “This has to be some kind of prank.”
“Oh, there’s a card inside,” Erin says, reaching in to pluck it out before my eyes can even land on it.
“Erin!” I protest, not wanting her to open it before I can fathom who this gift might be from. I like surprises, but only when I know they’re coming.
She ignores me as she peels the flap away from the envelope to open it. Inside is a simple white card, which my roommate reads aloud.
“‘This is more your color.’ Signed…Prince Charming?” Her eyes roll to me. “Prince Charming?”
Noah!
As if I hadn’t thought of a thousand ways to kill him already.
“You been holdin’ out on me, girl! And all this time you’ve been goin’ on and on, worried about Matt steppin’ out?” Erin’s southern accent shows its face the more excited she is about something, and right now she’s like a kid in Candyland.
“I haven’t been cheating!”
“It’s not cheating if you’re on a break. That’s just Friends 101. So spill, who is Prince Charming?”
“Someone I’m planning on strangling.”
“Oh, that sounds kinky, especially considering…”
My eyes follow hers back down to the pink box with a black bow and Agent Provocateur scripted across the top. Definitely not my preferred source of intimate apparel. Even the pink number from several nights ago wasn’t that daring. The name alone makes me think of things far more scandalous than being handcuffed to a bed.
With the worst possible candidate getting an eyeful…
Then, leaning over to “rescue” me…
All while getting an even closer look at the most intimate parts of me through that flimsy lace and satin…
“Earth to Grace,” Erin says, snapping her fingers near my face.
I blink and give her an irritated look.
“Girl,” Erin croons, “just how much of a show did you put on for that boy?”
“What boy?” I ask in alarm.
She gives me a sardonic look. “You know what boy. Noah Donahue.”
“How do you know it’s from—?”
“Please,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m surprised it took me this long to figure it out. I may not have a clue about all that literary crap you’re into, but I’m pretty damn good at math and even an idiot can put two and two together.”
“Perhaps you can count one finger?” I say, smirking and holding up my middle one for her. She really has rubbed off on me.
Erin laughs and waves it away. “So, are you going to open it?”
“Of course not. I’m going to return to sender, and tell him exactly where he can shove it.”
“You’re not even going to take a peek?” she protests.
“I don’t want to know ‘what my color is’, which I’m sure is a euphemism for someth
ing completely inappropriate.”
“Oh my god, Grace, you’re killing me!” She throws her head back and gurgles out a cry to the ceiling. She brings it back up and gives me a deadpan stare. “Don’t tell me you aren’t even the teensiest bit curious about what fantasies he has about you.”
“Whose side are you on here?” I exclaim.
“The side that makes your sex drive purr.”
“For heaven’s sake,” I sputter through a laugh. I slap her thigh. “You’re insatiable.”
“You can’t fault a girl for living vicariously.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint by twat-blocking—” Good grief, the terms this girl has introduced me to. “—but the fantasy ends now.”
I stand up, futilely trying to flatten the flaps of the outer box back in place and failing miserably. I compromise by stuffing it under my arm. Hell if I’m walking across campus with that trademark pink and black on display. I might as well tattoo the word “vixen” across my forehead.
Then again, who knows? Maybe that might be the thing that shakes Matt out of this insistence on a break. I consider it for about one second before giving up on the idea.
Eventually, he’ll come around.
Right now, I have other business to put to rest.
Chapter Five
Noah
“Coming!” I growl as the doorbell to my apartment rings for the third damn time.
Practice was only a half-day today since classes start tomorrow. As usual, I stayed late for that extra bit of practice with a few other teammates who are also NHL hopefuls.
I’ve studied all the athletic greats in almost every sport and one thing they had in common was going above and beyond what was required. My personal motto is, I don’t quit when the whistle blows, I quit when my body is completely worn out.
I opted for a shower at home instead of in the locker room. I should put on some clothes, but I’m still wet so I don’t bother. Considering how insistent my anonymous visitor is, I doubt they’d have the patience for me to dry off and throw something on.
As such, they get nothing but the towel.
I throw open the door without bothering to look through the peephole first.