“Loved,” I finish. “Meg told me about her romance novel addiction.”
Ben shakes his head. “It’s more than that. We all love her. Winston loves her. It’s gonna sound cheesy, but I think she wants something more. Like to be the center of someone’s world.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever been the center of anyone’s world. Nobody’s been the center of mine.
Ben’s watching me. “Are you the guy who can give her that? Winston didn’t want to put in the effort, and she took that hard. If you’re not into it, then don’t fuck with her.”
As much as I want to be that guy, I’m not sure if I am.
“Just something to think about,” Ben says with a sideways glance. “You have a reputation as a player—”
“I’m not—”
“I know. But keep in mind, Maggie’s not a casual type of girl. She wants a boyfriend. With a capital B,” he says.
“I get the picture.” I’ve figured out that Maggie’s an all-in type of girl. That’s why I like her so much. She’s not a one-night stand or a casual hook up. Now that we’ve hung out, I’m all-in too. Maybe I can’t figure out a way to kiss her lips yet, but I sure as hell want to keep trying. “Thanks, Ben.”
“No problem.” He puts his empty mug next to mine on a dryer. “So…you’re from upstate, right? Mustangs fan?”
Ben and I talk football until the washers stop spinning. After we transfer everything to the dryers, I leave to get in the shower before Tucker comes to get me for our show. After I apologize for leaving him to finish the dirty work, I ask, “Can you and Meg take care of Maggie tonight? Tell her I hope she’s feeling better?”
“Of course,” he says. “Go do your thing.”
I smile and point to him as I leave. “You’re a good guy, Ben.”
“I try,” he says, as I leave him in the laundry room.
Chapter 9
Maggie
On Sunday afternoon, I sit at my favorite table in the library and open my laptop. An alert pops up. Dinner duty tonight.
Every Sunday, the basement crew gets together for dinner. Frank started the tradition the first week of school, and since he died, we’ve kept it up as a way to honor him and reconnect with each other. We rotate chef duty and everyone shows, no matter what, even the girls from room five whom we never see. I think the only time Poppy and Darcy come to the dorm is on Sunday nights. They have some hippie commune they hang out in on the other side of the river. I’m pretty sure they’re drug dealers, so I don’t mind their distance, emotionally or physically.
I try to decide what to cook on such short notice, but my thoughts keep going back to Dave and our weekend. The note he left for me last night said he’d bring the kittens to the shelter today, except Beyoncé the Boy who’s going to Juliet and Chase. By passing out on him, I left a lot of words unsaid. I couldn’t even pull myself together to make it to his show. The aftereffects of the medicine were hard to fight, and fatigue won. I’d have texted him to ask him how it went, but he doesn’t have a phone.
“Ugh,” I say to nobody.
He should have brought the kittens by so I could say goodbye. I’m going to miss them. I’d keep one for company, but I’d feel bad making them live a secret existence in my little dorm room. I’m sure they’ll be adopted within days since they’re cute and young. If not, I’ll be able to keep an eye on them when I volunteer.
Why didn’t Dave ask me to come along to the shelter? Why hasn’t he mentioned wanting to see me again?
Why wouldn’t he kiss me?
I didn’t think we were in the friend zone, exactly. But then he kissed my forehead instead of my lips last night, so maybe we are? Maybe I’m not the woman he imagined I’d be.
“It’s alright,” I whisper to myself. “I didn’t want to get involved with anyone anyway.”
It was just a date. So why did it feel like more?
I look around the empty library for a distraction, anything to take my mind off Dave and the last two nights. With Meg spending more time with Ben, and without Winston around, I often find myself alone. I don’t mind so much. It gives me time to think about what I want to do with my life, self-reflect, and meditate. All that stuff Mom keeps telling me to do. Still, after a weekend full of activity—good and bad—today’s aloneness feels extra lonely. I sigh and slam the laptop shut, declaring, “Breakfast for dinner!” to my imaginary audience.
I give up on the library, stop at the tree across the walkway to feed Mr. Cutie Pie the squirrel, and head to the Student Center. There’s a little market where I can buy pancake mix.
Unlike the library, the Student Center is hopping. I weave my way through the crowd to the market and run smack into Winston. Of course.
“Hi,” he says, his eyes peering at me through his glasses.
Winston Frey’s pretty much the anti-Dave. Except for their six-ish-foot statures, they’re night and day. Winston’s motivated, nerdy in a nice way, techie, and hipster. Dave? From what I can tell, he’s carefree, so not a nerd, resistant to technology, and anything but a hipster. Maybe I’m making up an attraction to Dave to compensate for Winston’s treatment of me. Or maybe I’m ready for a change.
Confused, I grab the last box of pancake mix off the shelf. “Hey.”
“Satisfying a craving?” He points to the box.
“I’m on dinner duty. What are you up to?”
He holds up a Sunny Delight. I can’t imagine anyone drinking as much Sunny-D as Winston. I used to buy him cases of it to surprise him. “I know,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It’s your favorite source of vitamins and minerals.”
He grins. “Can I walk you back?”
Instead of answering, I move past him in search for syrup. Winston finds it before I do. He hands me the bottle without a word.
As we wait to check out, I ignore him, until he says, “So Dave, huh?”
I knew this was coming. “What about him?”
“You’re seeing Dave?”
“Not your business,” I mutter, without turning around. I have no idea what’s happening with Dave anyway.
“It’s just that I saw him yesterday. He said you were upstairs in his room.”
We reach the front of the line, and I put the pancake mix, the syrup, and Win’s Sunny Delight on the counter.
“Thanks,” he says when I buy it for him.
“You’re welcome. I got stung yesterday.”
His grin disappears as he grabs the bag with one hand and my hand with the other. “No way! Are you okay? Did you have your pen?” He’s seen me through enough bee stings at summer camp to know how serious it can be.
I sigh. “Well, I was away from my bag. Dave and I were…” I don’t feel the need to tell Win the details of my date, so I just say, “Yeah. Dave got it for me. We went to the emergency room, and he let me rest in his room after.”
“Oh, Mags. I’m sorry that happened.”
“Thanks.” I half-smile.
We walk back toward Sheridan in silence. We used to play this game where we’d guess the major of everyone passing us by. I wonder if he’s thinking about that. If it were a few months ago, I would yell “accounting” about the girl walking by, but he doesn’t seem interested in playing the game. Our games are a thing of the past.
As we approach the back door of the dorm, he asks, “Do you want to, I don’t know, catch a movie later or something?”
I laugh. Maybe I’m a little sad about missing him. Maybe I’m nostalgic for the time we spent together. But no way am I desperate enough to go back to Win half-assing a relationship with me. “Um, no. Not at all.”
“It won’t be like a date or anything. Just friends, you know? Everyone’s paired up downstairs, and Rod is overbearing sometimes. I miss you.”
I miss him too. But I know Winston wants to get back together. It’s obvious to me and everyone around us. I gave him every chance, and he couldn’t give me his heart—not fully. Not how I’d wanted it. It’s clear that I’m not supposed to be with him that way
, and I’m not ready to do the friend thing.
His shoulders sag when I don’t respond. He lifts the bag of groceries. “Can I at least help you with dinner? We’re supposed to be a team.”
Most of the couples share their cooking rotation. Win and I used to cook together too. I could use the help, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to. Even someone who messed up my heart and my head. Against my better judgment, I shrug and say, “Fine.”
Winston smiles. “If two of us are cooking, pancakes aren’t going to go over well without bacon and something else… maybe eggs? Want to run to the store so we have more options?”
He’s right. I can’t skimp on dinner if Win is offering car and supermarket access. “Sure. Let’s rock this breakfast for dinner.”
As Winston digs out his car keys, I sneak a peek at his familiar face. It’s comforting to know exactly what he’s going to do and say. Like how when we get to the store, he’ll pick up a sale flyer and use it to line the bottom of the basket. He’ll also head to the Sunny D aisle first, drink one, and pay for the empty bottle at the checkout. He’s a creature of habit, which must be why he thought we could work. I was a habit to him. Every summer, then here at NJU, without much thought.
Not like Dave. Dave claims he’s been into me since September but now acts like he can’t figure out what to do with me. One minute he seems madly in love and the next he’s pushing me away, disappearing without a trace. He wants me, but when I ask him to kiss me, he can’t. I have no clue what that guy is about.
Not knowing only makes me want him more.
Dave
I wake up Sunday afternoon with a sore throat and a pulled hamstring, in dire need of a handful of Motrin and a caffeine source. The room’s empty. Tuck must have stayed with the guys in the city.
I don’t know what was going on at the show last night, but I was all over the place—running back and forth across the stage, singing tough songs with everything in me. It felt good at the time and kept my mind off the woman who asked me to kiss her and fell asleep in my bed back in Jersey.
After the show, I ditched the band on clean up, telling them I needed to get back to campus. I ran to the train and made it back in record time, but Maggie was gone. The kittens had food and water in their carrier and were sleeping soundly, but no sign of Maggie. I knew she’d read my note because she left it out and her phone was missing. She didn’t leave me a note in return. I tried not to overanalyze and crashed into my bed.
For the first time ever, I wish I had a phone so I could call her and hear her voice. I pull out the white box with the latest iPhone model from my bottom drawer and put it on my desk. Maybe I’ll deal with it later. I don’t have her number anyway. For now, with Maggie out of reach, my priorities are tea, honey, and Motrin.
I bang through every drawer in the room and find a lone tea bag hiding in the back of Tuck’s desk. Thanking God, I snatch it and lumber to the lounge a few doors down in my boxers and nothing else. I grab my mug from the cabinet, fill it with tap water, and stick it in the microwave to boil the shit out of it.
My throat throbs, and my head pounds during the longest three minutes since the beginning of time as I wait for the water. I tap out one of the tunes we’d played last night on the counter, hoping to get out of the shared space and back to the privacy of my room as soon as possible. But, with a minute left on the timer, I smell the perfume and cringe.
“Hey stranger.” Suzi-with-an-I saunters in. “Did you just wake up?” She’s dressed in her “hotwear” as Tuck calls it—tight jeans, tight shirt, and lots of skin showing. Her long, dark hair is shiny and straight down her back. Her eyes are made up. She looks like a stripper on her day off.
“We had a show last night.” My voice squeaks, and I point to my throat. “Can’t talk. You going out?”
“I got a job at The Study bartending for the lunch crew.” She opens the fridge and bends to grab a bottle of water, giving me a front row view of her ass. When she pops up again, she twists off the lid and looks at me as she takes a sip. “Wanna come hang out?”
I rub my bed head and open the microwave before the timer beeps. “Don’t you have to be twenty-one to bartend?” I dip my tea bag and jerk it around, hoping to make it brew quickly and avoid her question.
“You know that place. They don’t follow rules.” She’s right. The Study’s notorious for breaking laws. She puts her bottle down and leans against the counter, mirroring me. “They’re only letting me do day shifts though. I get off at six if you want to hook up tonight.”
As she runs a finger down the length of my arm, all I can see is Maggie. All I can feel is the way she grabbed my arm yesterday at the park. The way she pulled the chocolate chips off her cookie. How she smiled at the sight of the Statue. She’s the one I want, I know that.
But it’s going to take such an effort on my part to get a girl like Maggie. Girls like Suzi are easy for me. The groupies, the casual girls. I could spend the rest of my life getting laid and doing my own thing. But now that I know Maggie is an option, that’s the last thing I want. Like Tucker said, maybe I’m supposed to put the work in for Maggie.
When Suzi’s finger reaches my waistband, I grab her hand. “Thanks for the offer, but no.” Not taking the easy route is putting in the work.
She frowns.
I don’t want to have this conversation with her, but I also don’t want to be tempted with easy when I need to focus on the prize. Suzi’s been decent to me though. We’ve maintained a delicate balance since September. She flirts; I ignore. She doesn’t press. Now that spring’s here and Amber is gone a lot, she’s been a little pushier. “I appreciate that you want to hook up… it’s just that I’m trying to…” My voice trails off, and I rub the back of my neck, hoping to disappear.
Suzi tilts her head and squints. “Who is she?”
“Huh?”
“The girl. Guys like you don’t change for fun. You only try to change for women.” She paces in front of me, pointing a long fingernail my way. “Let me guess.”
I squeeze my tea bag, throw it out, and angle for the door.
Suzi follows. “She’s sweet, right? Maybe a virgin? Blonde. She’s got to be blonde.”
She’s on point, except for the virgin thing. I roll my eyes and point to my throat, acting like I can’t talk. Then I wave and whisper, “See you around, Suz.”
Ignoring her laughter, I dart to my room and shut the door behind me. Deciding to hide out and wait for Tuck, I look out the window for Sadie. I swallow three Motrin with my semi-warm tea and do a double take when I see Maggie.
I can’t help grinning at the sight of her. She looks like a dream. Sexy as hell in a short dress with her hair twisted on top of her head. She’s laughing at something, tucking a loose strand over her ear, smiling to the person with her. She’s exactly what I want—not Suzi, not any other girl, just her.
Following her gaze, my heart thuds when I see who she’s with. Winston. And he’s laughing too. I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again, hoping I’m mistaken. Nope. Still her. Still with him. Still smiling. Fuck. I hate that she’s smiling with him.
Cocking back my arm, I stop myself from punching the window, remembering Ben’s words. Maggie doesn’t want casual. She wants something real with someone real. She wants it all. Someone who can give her everything.
As they walk to a car in the lot behind Sheridan, my arms burn from the tension in my fists. My jaw aches from clenching it. I can’t watch this happen.
I bang on the window.
Nothing. Neither of them notices as Winston digs through his pockets.
She can’t get in that car. Please don’t get in that car. I bang again to no avail.
“Screw it,” I say to my empty room.
Shirtless and in my boxers, I run into the hallway and head for the staircase.
Will you kiss me? Her words from the night before haunt me. Why didn’t I grab her face and kiss her like all those times I’d dreamt about? Why couldn’t I wi
n her over like I win over the crowd when I perform? Why can’t I be that Dave with her?
My head throbs as I bound down the stairs and bust through the exit door out of Sheridan and into the bright sun. Please don’t get into the car, Maggie, I think over and over.
They each have their doors open, but when she spots me, she freezes. She lifts her eyebrows and looks me up and down.
I walk toward her, ignoring the smirk Winston’s throwing me from the driver’s side of the car.
As I approach, she points to my chest. “You forgot your clothes, rock star.”
“I….”
I shut my eyes. I what? I should kiss her. I should touch her. But Ben’s words haunt me. Maybe Maggie wants to be with Winston. Maybe she can’t see “Second Floor Dave” as anything but the guy upstairs who has a reputation for getting whatever and whomever he wants.
But in truth, I’ve never wanted for anything. Except Maggie.
I’ve wanted her since day one, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I deserve to have her. Still, even if I’m not perfect now, for her I want to try to be. If Maggie’s giving me a chance to be in her life, I’ll take that chance and work my ass off until I own it. I’d be invincible. Like I am on stage, but in real life with her.
When I open my eyes again, I stare right into hers, our faces inches apart. She waits, a confused smirk on her gorgeous face.
I can’t move, but I know I can’t go into stuttering mode. Not now. So I ask, “Are you feeling better?” The words come out raspy and low—I can barely feel my throat. A wisp of her hair blows across her face. With a shaky finger, I touch it, pushing it behind her ear, then trace her cheek.
Nodding, she looks at me through long lashes, her cheeks pink, her sexy mole on the tip of her smile. She takes my hand away from her face and holds it. “Yes. Thank you.”
I look down at our intertwined fingers, not wanting to let her go.
“Uh, yeah. We’re about to leave,” Winston says from the other side of the car. Then I remember the jerkoff’s there too and I’m in the middle of a parking lot in my boxers.
She Wants It All: Book Three of the Sheridan Hall Series Page 9