Quinn lifted up her phone. “Sorry. Nate was texting me about his anthropology professor. He’s pretty sure she’s a vampire.” Shaking her head, she rolled to her side and pushed to sit up. “He just asked if we want to come over for a little while. I think he’s looking for a reason to take a break from studying.” She glanced at me and then at Gia. “And he says Tuck’s there, too. So if we go over, we can finally meet the elusive roommate.”
My heart began to thud a little harder than normal, and my cheeks heated. I hadn’t been to Nate’s dorm. Quinn had stopped over to visit once, but I knew she been disappointed not to meet his roommate so far. She’d told me that she was curious to see how he and Nate related to each other.
“I’m up for that.” Gia sat up, too. “I’m roasting out here, and I’m thirsty, too. Nate probably has water bottles in his fridge.”
“Definitely.” Quinn glanced at me. “How about you, Zelda? Can you tear yourself away from cholera for a little bit?”
I pretended to think about it, even though I already knew I was going with them. “If you’re both going to abandon me, I guess I’ll tag along.” I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping I didn’t look flushed and sweaty. I didn’t usually obsess over my appearance, but it wasn’t every day a girl got to see the man who’d introduced her to sex. I was entitled to a little bit of fussing.
We folded up the blankets we’d been lounging on and began walking diagonally across the green toward the long, squat brick building where Nate lived. Liddleton was only two stories high, unlike the other dormitories on campus; since it housed all the underclassmen with special physical needs, this dorm, Birch’s newest building, boasted ramps, wide doors and two elevators. Nate lived with Eli on the first floor, just off the large tiled lobby.
I hung back as our steps echoed in the hallway. Call me a diva, but this was one time I wanted to make a grand entrance. I didn’t want anything else to divert Eli’s attention from me. I needed to see his reaction—if he had one.
“Hey.” Quinn called out a greeting as she knocked on the door and then pushed it open. “I hope you’re both dressed, because here we come.”
“We’re decent.” I heard the wry amusement in Nate’s tone. “Tuck, this is Quinn. And that’s Gia.”
The answering voice was deeper than Nate’s, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I stepped in behind the other girls.
Nate was grinning at Quinn and Gia. “This is Eli Tucker, guys. He’s the one who’s got to put up with me this year.”
“You mean he’s the lucky dude who gets to be your first roommate ever.” Quinn dropped down onto Nate’s bed, sitting next to him and nudging his foot. “Just like Zelda gets to be my first.”
As far as openings went, I couldn’t have asked for any better. With a wide smile, I shook back my hair. “Oh, doll, everyone wants me to be his first. There’s practically a waiting list.” I winked at her. “I was taught by the very best.”
Nate glanced at me, his smile turning quizzical. “Uh, Tuck, this is Zelda, um . . .?” He looked a little embarrassed. “Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know if I ever heard your last name.”
“Porter. Zelda Porter.” At that, I let myself actually look at Eli at last, steeling myself for whatever I might see.
He sat on his own bed, his back propped up against a couple of pillows, and my initial impression was that he’d bulked up incredibly since that night three years ago. His shoulders and chest were almost impossibly broad, and his arms were all ropy muscle.
Of course, when I thought about it, his upper body growth only made sense. He had to use those arms to move his body around these days, I assumed. Still, if I hadn’t known about his paralysis, I never would’ve guessed just by seeing him. Reclining as he was now, he didn’t look any different than a typical college football player.
His eyes were bright as he stared at me, and for just a fraction of a second, I was certain I saw a flicker of . . . something there. Was it recognition? I couldn’t be sure, because it vanished too quickly.
He swept a warm gaze over me, but I knew, with a shiver of bitter disappointment, that he wasn’t remembering me. He was simply appreciating my generous curves and the miles of long, tanned legs that were displayed by my black shorts.
“Zelda’s my roommate,” Quinn piped up. “From Lancaster.”
“Uh, hi.” He gave me a small wave. “Nice to, um, meet you.”
“Hey.” I leaned on a nearby desk, painfully aware of Eli and each move he made. I was having trouble maintaining my I don’t care if you remember or not indifference as he stared at me, frowning slightly.
I hadn’t expected him to know me—not really—but it seemed that some small part of me had still hoped. It stung that the night I recalled with such clarity hadn’t meant one damn thing to him. As the conversation continued around me, I remained silent, staring at the floor.
“There’s a party tonight at a fraternity called Lambda something or other,” Gia sang out. “Do you all want to go?”
“Not me.” Nate glanced at Quinn. “Sounds a little too crowded.”
My roommate shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. Leo’s going to call tonight, and besides, I’m not much into parties.”
“Awww, come on, you guys.” Gia cajoled. “I don’t want to go by myself.”
“I’ll go with you.” I spoke up without giving it much thought. “I’m always in the mood for a party. But you’ll have to find your own way home, because I’ll probably find a fuck buddy, and I don’t want to feel rushed.”
I didn’t meet Eli’s gaze, but I did wonder how he’d react to my words. If he had even a glimmer of memory about who I was and how we’d met, would he feel the slightest bit of curiosity—or would he see me as some kind of kindred spirit, someone else just like he used to be?
Before I could go into full brooding mode about it, Gia popped up from her seat on the floor. “Awesome! I’m so glad you ended up as Quinn’s roommate, Zelda. Who else would have fun with me, otherwise?”
I allowed my lips to curve into a slight smile. “Who else, indeed.” Pushing away from the desk, I gestured toward the door with a jerk of my head. “C’mon. Let’s go back to Gibbons now so we have time to find sufficiently slutty outfits to wear tonight.”
“Hey, you two—don’t get into trouble tonight,” Quinn called after us.
“No promises, doll.” I winked at my roommate. “Trouble’s my middle name—and my kind of trouble is way too much fun to avoid.”
Quinn rolled her eyes, and I laughed.
“Don’t wait up for us. I predict I’m going to spend most of the night in a bed that isn’t mine.”
That first meeting set the tone for the rest of our freshman year—at least, when it came to interaction between Eli Tucker and me. I rarely if ever addressed him directly, even though we were frequently in the same room. If I happened to see him out on campus when I wasn’t with Quinn or Gia, I didn’t acknowledge his existence. I tried not to look at him if I could help it.
For Eli’s part, although he clearly didn’t remember our earlier meeting, he never tried to engage me in conversation, and he didn’t call me on my borderline passive-aggressive comments, either. I wasn’t sure if it was because he just didn’t care, or if he didn’t like me. The former seemed more likely, because I noticed that despite his obvious good looks and his drool-inducing body, Eli didn’t have friends outside Nate, Quinn and Gia. He spent most of his free time in the room he shared with Nate, and according to Quinn, no one ever came to visit him there.
“Nate says he thinks Tuck has a huge chip on his shoulder about his wheelchair. I mean, about the fact that he has to use it. I guess he used to be pretty popular—well, high school quarterback, no surprise there—and now that things are different . . .” Quinn trailed off. “Not that he’s not still really hot. But he’s just not very nice, sometimes.”
I couldn’t help my snort at that. Quinn tilted her head, her eyes narrowing
.
“You don’t like Tuck, do you?”
I turned in my chair so that I was facing my desk, with my back toward Quinn. I didn’t want her to see my face. “Why wouldn’t I like him? I honestly don’t have feelings about the guy one way or the other. He’s just like all of the other men in the world.”
“Yeah.” I heard the mattress squeak as Quinn shifted on the bed. “But you don’t treat him the way you do all the other men in the world. Don’t forget, Zelda, I’ve seen you in action. I know what you’re usually like around guys—flirty and teasing. You twirl your hair—”
At that I whipped my head around to glare at my roommate. “I do not!”
“Oh, you so do. When we meet boys you don’t know, that’s one of your go-to moves. Your voice even gets different. I think of it as your fuck me now voice.”
I snickered. “Nice. Accurate, though, I guess. But I’m not copping to the hair twirling.”
She ignored that. “But with Tuck, it’s like he doesn’t exist. Like he’s just empty space. You look right through him.”
“Oh, that’s ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t treat him any differently than I do Nate.”
“Now who’s being silly?” Quinn hugged her knees to her chest. “You are so nice to Nate. You try not to make him feel uncomfortable, even when you don’t care if the rest of us are. I’ve noticed that you even tame down your sex talk when Nate’s in the room.”
She wasn’t wrong. There was something about Nate Wellman that gentled my need to shock. Maybe it was that no matter how appalling he found my behavior, he never judged me or treated me differently. He offered me the same nonchalant tolerance that he did Gia, and because of that, I found that I almost wanted to be more like the girl he seemed to see in me.
“Still.” I turned back to face my laptop screen, trying to focus on the paper I had to write. “Why in the hell would I have anything against Eli Tucker?”
“You did say you met him before,” Quinn pointed out. “The first day, when Nate told us he was his roommate. You said you’d met him a long time ago.”
“Did I?” I leaned forward, pretending to re-read the paragraph I’d just typed. “It was just in passing—meeting him, I mean. I saw him play football once. It’s not like I knew him or anything.”
“Hmmm.” Quinn wasn’t going to give this up. “The way you treat him says different. You remind me of the way girls used to act around boys in second grade.” She paused. “When they liked those boys, that is.”
“Oh, please.” I stared at the computer, even though I wasn’t really seeing the words. “I told you that I don’t even know him. I promise that I’m not nursing some secret crush on him. It’s just . . .” I shrugged. “He’s Nate’s friend. I don’t need to get cozy with him. I have plenty of guys who I’d rather spend my time with.”
“Yeah, I’m well aware of that.” Quinn’s voice was wry. I heard her quiet sigh before she spoke again, her words tentative this time. “Zelda, it’s not . . . I mean, I know it isn’t this. I know you’re not that way. But the fact that Tuck’s in a wheelchair—that’s not why you treat him differently, is it?”
I swiveled to gape at her now, disbelief making my mouth drop open. “Of course not. I never even—no.” I shook my head. “Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”
“No, I don’t.” She had the good grace to look miserable and embarrassed. “I guess I’m just looking for any possible reason you two don’t mesh. Or why you totally ignore each other.”
“Quinn, doll.” I sat down next to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “You’re a sweetie, and I know you mean well. You want to see the best in everyone. That’s awesome. But sometimes, people just don’t . . .” I searched for the right word. “Click. Some of us just don’t click. I’ll be honest, when I first met you and Gia, I didn’t think I’d like Gia. But it turns out we have a lot in common, and now we’re friends. I like Nate, too. So let’s be glad that out of the three people you’ve introduced me to, I get along with two of them . . . and just let the Tuck thing go.”
“I don’t expect you to be best friends with all my friends.” She crossed her arms. “I just think you two have a weird vibe.” She shrugged. “But if you tell me it’s nothing, I’ll have to believe you, I guess.”
“Yep, you do.” I stood up, patting her on the head, even though I knew she hated when I did that. “Now I’ve got to concentrate on writing this paper. However, I don’t think I told you that earlier today, I picked up a package from Grammy.” Bending over, I pulled a brown cardboard box from beneath my bed. “And I might be willing to share.”
Quinn’s eyes lit up. “Don’t tell me Grammy sent chocolate chip cookies.”
“She totally did.” I lifted the lid and offered her the box. “Help yourself.”
“Oh, my God,” Quinn moaned, biting into the first cookie. “You’re the best roommate in the world.” Her eyes closed as she chewed. “I take back everything. You don’t have to be nice to Tuck. You can keep ignoring him, and I won’t make a peep. Just promise me you’ll always share your cookies with me.”
I laughed at the rapturous expression on her face. “You got it, doll.”
Quinn didn’t bring up the subject of Eli Tucker again, which was good, because I wasn’t sure that distracting her with chocolate chip cookies was always going to work. Just to be on the safe side, I began to be more subtly intentional about avoiding him; I made up excuses if Gia and Quinn wanted to go hang out in the boys’ room or meet them both at the dining hall or student life center.
Since it was nearly impossible for them to reach our rooms, given that the older dorms like Gibbons had not yet been made accessible, at least I didn’t have to worry about Eli showing up in my own room. I was grateful for that small blessing.
And I almost made it entirely through the remainder of our freshman year without having to face Eli Tucker again.
Almost.
Chapter Four
Tuck
“And . . . bam.” I closed my laptop with a sense of satisfaction. “One more final down . . . one more to go.”
It was hard to believe that my freshman year of college—something I’d longed for, something I’d been afraid I’d never be able to experience, something I’d once thought I wouldn’t live long enough to see—was nearly over. I’d just finished and turned in my second-to-last final, a take-home essay for American history. Now I only had sociology left. That exam was on Monday, which meant I had tonight and tomorrow to do some serious last-minute studying.
The book I needed was on my desk, next to my bed. Tired from all of the recent exams and preoccupied with a whole shit-ton of other things, I didn’t think twice about leaning over to reach for the book. My fingers grasped it, but as they did, my body suddenly remembered that nothing moved below my thighs. I teetered off-balance, the heavy book crashing to the floor, where I might’ve joined it if I hadn’t been sitting squarely on the bed.
As it was, I saved myself with my arms, gripping the edge of the mattress until I got my equilibrium back. And then I hoisted my useless body more securely against the pillows and stared balefully at the fucking book in the middle of the fucking floor.
The door to the adjoining bathroom opened, steam pouring out. My roommate Nate had just finished his shower, so I waited until I heard the sound of his uneven footsteps before I called out.
“Hey, Wellman. Give me a hand here, will you?”
He emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his short dark hair. “Sure. What’s up?”
I pointed to the book. “I was being stupid and lazy. I went to grab the book without thinking about it, and it was too far out of my reach. I dropped it.” Giving a head jerk to the side of my bed, I added, “Guess I should’ve just gotten the chair, but . . .”
Nate grunted as he bent to pick up the book and toss it onto my bed. One of the things I liked about him was that he never made a big deal about my ability or lack thereof. He didn’t fuss over
me. He just helped if I asked, and then he went on with life. As it should be.
“Thanks, man.” I flipped open the book and cleared my throat. “One more final, then I’m done.”
“I got two more.” Nate paused for a second, and I knew he was finding his balance before he tugged a T-shirt over his head. “Are you excited about going home?”
That was the million-dollar question. “I’ll be glad to be done with classes. Going home . . . not so much.” Frowning, I sat back against the pillows behind me. “Coming here gave me freedom, you know? At home, my parents hover. And they worry. They try too hard. My dad is constantly trying to make my life easier, like if he figures how to build the perfect ramp or widens the door just right, everything will change for me.” I dug my fingers into my thighs, staring down at them, marveling absently for the thousandth time that I felt nothing. It was as though I was gripping someone else’s leg. “It gets harder and harder to keep from telling them that the easier life option disappeared when my spine snapped.”
Nate sat down across from me on his own bed, reaching for his sneakers. “I get that. They only want to help, but they don’t understand how to do it.”
“Is it the same with you?” I flipped pages in the book, not bothering to look down at them. “With your parents, I mean.”
Nate’s forehead drew together. “Not really. But this has always been my life. My parents have been dealing with all my crap since I was born, so they’re used to it. They know what to expect, usually, and they’re pretty cool. But it can be tough when I want to be real, and they don’t. My mom and dad are the most optimistic people I know. They pretend to believe that the doctors are always going to come up with a solution or a new treatment for me, and it’s all going to be fine. I guess I’d rather be brutally honest. When you don’t have a lot of time left, you don’t want to waste it on bullshit, right?” He bent his head, intent on the shoelaces. “You don’t want to waste any of it.”
Next Man Up (Making the Score Football Romance Book 2) Page 5