She Wants It All: Book Three of the Sheridan Hall Series

by Jessica Calla

  Back at Sheridan, Dave lifts the carrier with one hand and supports me with the other, even though I tell him I don’t need help. He brings me to his room. I’m nervous about the cats being in the dorm again, but he claims he’ll report Dolch to the Housing Director for “one of the many things they’ve done” if he dares to complain about the cats.

  Dolch isn’t around though, when Dave ushers me into his room and makes me lie on his bed. He places the carrier on the desk facing me so I can see the kittens. Then he finds me a bottle of water.

  He tries to hand it to me, but I shake my head. “I’m fine, you know. I feel good. I need to deflea room three.” I attempt to stand, but he blocks me.

  “Lay down. Drink.” He holds out the water bottle. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  I take the bottle and flop back on his bed, taking comfort in the fresh smell of his sheets and the soft fleecy blanket. My eyes suddenly feel heavy—the medicine is wearing off—and if I don’t get up, I’ll fall asleep. Meg will kill me if our fleas attack. I have to get down there.

  I try to sit up again. “I’m fine, Dave.” He catches me yawn. Dammit.

  “Relax, please. You scared me. We both need to rest for a few minutes. The room can wait.” Then he reaches for his guitar. “Stay, and I’ll play you something,” he sing-says.

  I smile and sigh. “You will? You know, rumor has it you sing to all of your dates.”

  He shakes his head. “You are the first woman I’ve ever offered to sing to.”

  I yawn through my smile and stretch. My eyes are heavy, so I give in and lie back, letting the cute boy who likes me sing me a song.

  Dave scoots to the edge of the bed with his guitar on his thigh. He strums and twists the knobs. “Any other rumors I need to know about?”

  Um, yeah. About that giant penis? “You don’t want to know.”

  After throwing a quick smirk my way, he readjusts his posture until his hip leans against my leg. I like the contact so I don’t move away. Neither does he.

  He strums again and hums along as he plays a soft, quiet melody that threatens to lull me right to sleep. No words, just music. As I watch him play, I’m completely and totally entranced. I want to touch him, to wrap my arms around his waist and hide my face in him. I’d spent the day in the hospital and must be a mess. But I’ve never felt more beautiful and special than I do at the moment, with Dave looking at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world as he hums his tune.

  When he finishes, I smile. “Pretty. What is it?”

  “Something I wrote.” He strums gently, looking down at his fingers. “I dabble in a little composition. I’ve never played that for anyone.”

  My butterflies swirl, and my insides twist as he starts another song.

  Needing to touch him, I sit up behind him, my front lined up with his back. He smells like fresh air with a touch of hospital. His thick hair falls over his forehead, begging me to touch it. But I resist. I don’t want him to stop playing. I rest my chin on his shoulder. He plays a couple more notes and then stops, twisting to look at me. Our lips are inches apart.

  With his eyes on mine, I can’t remember why I wanted to take a break from guys. Why would I let Winston, who broke my heart, keep me from this feeling? This warmth that fills me from head to toe. This flutter of my heart with each second we spend together.

  I ask the words without thinking, but mean every one. “Will you kiss me?”

  His eyes travel to my lips, and I think he might. He leans closer and touches my chin. Then he lifts my face to his. I close my eyes.

  Then I open them when I feel his lips on my forehead.

  The last things I remember as my head hits the pillow and I drift to sleep are the look on his face and his words. “I’m sorry.”

  Dave

  When Maggie falls asleep, I move the kittens to Tuck’s side of the room so they don’t bother her. I hide my guitar, put her phone in my drawer, take her keys from her purse, and write her a note: Be right back.

  Glancing at her snug under my comforter, I play back her words on repeat in my mind. Will you kiss me? Four words that put me in a panic. Up until then, despite the bee sting, I was doing so great. I kissed her nose at the hospital. I don’t know why I bailed when she asked for more.

  As I’m about to tiptoe out, I hear Tucker in the hallway, using his flirty voice to talk with Suzi-with-an-I. I don’t want to interrupt his play or deal with her. Nor do I want them to wake Maggie. So I stand by the door and wait, listening to their muffled voices.

  When Suzi’s door opens and shuts, I pop into the hallway to stop Tucker from busting into our room.

  He looks past me. “Squirrel Girl?”

  I usher him further into the hallway, shushing him and closing the door behind me. “She’s sleeping.”

  His eyes widen as he looks from me to our closed door. “You nailed Squirrel Girl? Jesus Christ and hallelujah! You were scaring me for a minute there.”

  I shush him again. “I didn’t nail anybody, and her name’s Maggie.”

  “No sex yet? It’s been like a day. Tell me you at least made contact this time?”

  I tap my forehead, pretending to think. “Hmm, yeah. Let’s see. She grabbed my hand today. And we kissed each other’s noses.”

  “That’s so cute,” he says sarcastically.

  “And then I rubbed her leg.” Now Tuck looks interested, raising his eyebrows and waiting. I fake smile. “It was great. You know, I had to move the medicine around—”

  He scowls. “Medicine?”

  “Yep. From the EpiPen because she got stung by a bee and is allergic. I just got her back from the Goddamn hospital.” I drop my head and cradle my face in my hands.

  “Oh my God, that’s fucking classic!” Tucker laughs like an imbecile, and I seriously debate clocking him in the jaw. “Holy fucking shit with this girl! Can your luck be any worse? Is she okay?”

  Tuck’s right about my luck. I’m usually blessed in the girl department. Here I am with Maggie, and everything that can go wrong, does. Despite that, she still asks me to kiss her, and I deliver a smooch like my mom gives me? First her nose, then her forehead? What is wrong with me?

  I can’t help smiling with him at the absurdity of the last twenty-four hours. “She’s fine. Now I have to go deflea her dorm room before her roommate gets back.”

  “What?” Tucker laughs again, his jaw dropping. “Did you get married when I wasn’t looking? You don’t even clean our room.”

  I shake my head. Tuck settles down and watches me. When he’s done being an asshole, I check up and down the hallway to make sure we’re still alone. “I don’t know, Tuck. I wait all this time to get a chance with her, and I’m trying to do it right—dinner last night, picnic today. It’s not working. Why is everything so complicated?”

  Tuck grabs my shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be easy with her. Maybe that’s why she’s different to you.” When he spurts out another laugh, I smack his face. He smacks me back and then pulls me into a headlock. I struggle with him, but he’s double my size. There’s not much I can do. “Now give me back my car keys,” he says, ramming his knuckle into my head.

  I stomp his foot, and he backs off. “Help me deflea first.”

  “No fucking way. That’s all on you, loverboy. I’ll be back at eight to pick you up for the city.” He holds out his hand. “Keys?”

  I’d almost forgotten about our gig. “Asshole,” I mutter but dig his car keys out of my pocket. I hold them up, acting like I’m offering them to him. When he reaches to grab them, I snatch them back and throw them as far as I can down the hallway.

  He curses me and runs down the hall while I take off in the opposite direction. If he catches me, he’ll beat me. Good for me, he’s a fat ass, so I can outrun him.

  On the first floor, I stop in the utility closet to grab the community cleaning supplies, then check the laundry room. Empty. After filling the bucket with water, I lug the supplies down to room three, juggling t
he bucket, rags, a spray bottle, and a mop. I mess with Maggie’s keys to get into her room.

  A door opens next to me.

  Winston. Fuck my life.

  “Where’s Maggie?” The jerkoff ex looks me up and down, like I’m a criminal breaking into her room.

  Should I be a dick, or be nice? I opt for dick. “Asleep upstairs.”

  He scoffs and notices my cleaning supplies, but doesn’t ask. I check him out, wondering if I could take him just for being a prick to Maggie. I’m pretty sure I can. He’s thinner and softer than me and doesn’t look like he could fight. How he scored a girl like Maggie and then had the audacity to dump her is an unsolvable mystery.

  I finally get the door open and I’m about to shut it in his face when he says, “Dave?”

  I turn to stare him down with my best what-the-fuck-do-you-want face.

  “I love her. I’m going to try to get her back.” There’s no emotion behind his words. It’s like he’s ordering a pizza. “I thought you should know. To make the fight fair.”

  “Good luck with that.” Sarcasm drips, but I’m proud that I went the semi-nice route. What I wanted to tell him was that any fight between him and me wouldn’t be a fight at all, but I’m glad I refrained. First of all, I’m not sure that’s the case. Also, not throwing off words or a punch at Winston means I must be maturing or something. I shut the door on him, drop the supplies inside, and look around.

  Meg and Maggie’s room looks the same as it did the night before—all female, with pastels, pictures, clothes, and girl stuff. Like my sisters’ rooms. Lucky for me, unlike my sisters’ rooms, it’s pretty much spotless. Glancing around, I have no idea where to start. I start by tossing the throw rugs in the hallway. “Dirty mongrels,” I murmur under my breath.

  Images of Maggie’s ass in her hot girl sweats dance through my mind as I dip the mop in the bucket of water and run it over the faux hardwood. Even though Winston did Maggie wrong, I wonder if she’d ever go back. First loves are tough to give up, so they say. But I barely know Maggie. If she goes back to Winston, that’s her choice to make. It’s not like we’re a couple or anything.

  My head spins as I think about Maggie being my girlfriend. Could that even happen? Is it a possibility? She asked me to kiss her.

  I dip the mop again. Why would she like me? Besides the fact that the girls think I’m cute and I sing in a band? I have no goals, no experience, and no life ambition. Being on academic probation means I have to dig myself out of a hole to graduate from this place. Honestly, all I want to do is sit around with Maggie and play my guitar. Can those be my life goals?

  I need to get my act together.

  I work quickly, shining the floors and wiping down the walls. As I pull the sheets off Maggie’s and then Megan’s bed, the doorknob turns.

  Megan climbs over the rugs in the hallway and joins me inside the flea room. She gives me a hug.

  Ben lingers in the doorway. “Is it safe to come in?”

  “I don’t know. I think so. I still have to wash the sheets and rugs.” I wipe the sweat from my brow as I roll the linens into a ball. Maggie’s pillow smells like strawberries.

  Ben chuckles. “Good date, I take it?”

  I glare at him as Meg smacks his arm and turns to me. “You’re doing great. I know how excited you were for your date, and I know maybe it doesn’t feel like this is the way it was supposed to happen—”

  “Ya think?” I ask sarcastically, throwing the sheets down.

  She pouts at me. “Is Maggie okay?”

  “Yeah. The doctors say she’s fine.”

  “Thank God. You did a great job helping her, Dave.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You sound down. Don’t give up hope.” Her blue eyes study mine as her dumb ass boyfriend chuckles at me in the background. She smacks him again. “I know your band is playing later. What time do you have to go?”

  “I have about an hour before I have to get out of here.”

  “What can we do to help?”

  Ben calms down behind her. They look sincere, so I take them up on it. “I’ll finish up here if you go to my room and stay with Maggie. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” Ben smirks. “No wonder the girls love you. You’re a charmer, like they say.”

  I laugh at the absurdity. I’m anything but. If I weren’t on his turf, I’d tell him to fuck off. Even though he’s an ass, I won’t disrespect Megan. “Maybe you should take a lesson.”

  “Wow,” Ben says.

  Meg stands between us. “Alright, everyone, calm down. Let’s focus on the end goal here. Ben,” she says, turning to him. “Dave’s had a rough day. Can you be nice and help him out? For me?”

  She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him. Ben glares at me over her shoulder. “Anything for you, Sweet Meg.”

  I don’t break my stare until she faces me. “I’ll go stay with Maggie. Give me your key.”

  I dig my key out of my pocket and hand it to Meg. “Her phone is in my desk drawer. I didn’t want it to wake her.” I scoff at Ben. “You know, since I’m such a charmer.”

  He laughs behind her. Meg holds her hands out, one on Ben and one on me. “Settle down, boys.”

  I take a deep breath, talking to Meg. “Tucker is out somewhere so he won’t bother you. Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks for taking care of this and for taking care of Maggie today.” Meg opens the door to leave. “Play nice, you two. Call if you need me.”

  When the door shuts again, Ben and I shoot each other a hard look. Whenever I’m around the basement guys, it’s like I’m pledging a fraternity or something. They’re trying my patience.

  After a long second, he holds up his hands. “Well, Prince Charming? Want to be friends? My girl seems to like you.”

  I shrug. “You’re the one with the problem, not me.”

  He shakes his head. “No problems. Let me help. What do you want me to do?”

  “Help me do the laundry, tough guy.” I throw a balled up comforter at him.

  He catches it. “You got it. We’ll need supplies.”

  Ben tosses the comforter back on the bed and opens a tiny refrigerator in Megan’s closet. He pulls out two cans of beer. Then he opens the dresser, takes out two travel mugs, and pours the beers into them. He tightens the tops and places the mugs in the comforters. “Ready?”

  I follow him, sizing him up as he leads. There’s no way could I take him. He’s big, bulky, and on the football team. He took a bullet in the shooting that killed Frank. He’s pretty much a legend around Sheridan and NJU. I have to respect that, even if he gives me a hard time about my rep.

  In the laundry room, we jam the sheets into the machines. Ben shuts the door, hands me my travel mug, and pats the top of the dryer next to him. We sit on the dryers, drinking. I take my first sip and sigh with the pleasure provided by the cold liquid.

  “Tough day?” he asks, chuckling again.

  “You know, despite the dumpster, the shelter, the hospital, it was pretty much a perfect day.”

  “Maggie’s awesome,” he says.

  “She is.”

  “What’s your plan?” He takes a swig from his travel mug.

  “Why does everyone keep asking me what my plan is? I don’t have a plan.” After a long pause, I decide to test the waters a little. “I ran into Winston downstairs.”

  Ben grimaces. “Did he challenge you to a duel?”

  I exhale a “ha,” imagining Winston and I wielding swords at each other. “Well, maybe. Said he’s going to try to get back together with Maggie. I think he wanted me to offer to step aside.”

  “You’re tough competition for him,” Ben says. “The girls talk about you like you’re heaven-sent.”

  I feel the exact opposite of heaven-sent. “I see it the other way around. Winston and Maggie have a history. Memories and all that shit. All I have with her is three fleabag kittens.”

  “Nah. Winston bl
ew it. I think he knows that. It’s an uphill battle for him. For you, it’s smooth sailing.” Ben motions a wave with his arm and then points at me. “That is, if you can speak around her yet.”

  “You’re funny.” I roll my eyes as Ben laughs. “Oddly enough, all these situations have kind of made it easier to talk to her. I can’t imagine sitting across from her at a table at a restaurant trying to make conversation, but when I was in the dumpster or at the hospital, I was fine.”

  “That’s a start. Do you want my advice?” He waits for me to respond.

  “Please.”

  “Maggie’s tough. She’s no pushover. Winston’s been trying to sweet talk her since the day he broke up with her, but she’s not falling for it.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  Ben continues. “Down in the basement, everyone thinks Juliet is boss because she’s so…” He swirls his hand around as he tries to come up with a word.

  “In your face?” I suggest.

  Ben grins. “Yeah, that works. Pooja has her psychic thing. Meg’s a sweetheart. But it’s Maggie who holds it all together, believe it or not. She’s not afraid to call any of us out on our shit. When Meg and I were getting started, she hunted me down and told me what I needed to hear. She got Meg’s head straightened out more than once. After Frank died, she took charge and organized Juliet’s press conference. She convinced Rod to get his uncle to open Sheridan for Chase to paint the mural, and so we could have New Year’s Eve together.”

  “His uncle?”

  “President Hernandez.”

  “Huh. I had no idea Rodrigo was so connected. He seems like such an asshole,” I say, without thinking. “No offense.”

  He shrugs. “Rod comes off that way, but he’s okay.”

  “Good to know.” I finish the last drop from my travel mug and wish I had more.

  I lift the empty can to Ben and he finishes his too. “But back to Maggie. Even though she’s farm-grown tough, she’s still the girliest girl I’ve ever met. Like, stereotypically girly. All she wants is to be—”