We make a detour through the heart of campus where The Beanery is located. I enjoy coffee like most of civilized society but I don’t have addiction issues the way a certain someone does.
As we maneuver our way through the early morning crowd, I can’t shake the disconcerting sensation that I’m being watched. It leaves an unsettled pit prickling at the bottom of my belly. I hope Brinley’s right and it’s all a figment of my overactive imagination.
I have to remind myself that no one actually gives a damn about me or my virginity.
Seriously. No one. I barely care about it.
Most of the students on campus don’t even know I exist. And I’m perfectly fine with that. My popularity status at Southern has never been a concern for me.
Brinley pulls open the coffeehouse door and inhales a deep breath. “Ahhhh. Do you smell that?” She pauses over the threshold and makes a big production of wafting her hand in front of her nose as if sniffing a fine wine. “Pure ambrosia for the senses.”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics.
The girl needs serious help.
When she doesn’t budge, I prod her along so the people piling up behind us can get through the door. “Come on, let’s get in line. I can’t be late for class. Dr. Dickerson is a stickler for timeliness. He loves to call people out and shame them in front of everyone.” The thought of enduring another humiliation makes me break out into a sweat.
She snickers. “Dickerson.”
I shake my head and grab her hand, towing her to the end of the line. “You are such a child.”
“I know, but it’s part of my charm.”
“Is it?” I narrow my eyes and shoot a skeptical look her way. “Who convinced you of that?”
“You tell me all the time.”
“I don’t think so.”
Brinley glances at the blackboard behind the counter where the specials for the day are listed in colorful chalk. She’s the only person I know who delights in choosing something different every time she stops in. My guess is that she enjoys keeping the baristas on their toes. “Hmmm.” With a contemplative look on her face, she slowly taps her lips with her forefinger. “What shall I try today?”
This is more of a rhetorical question, so I don’t bother answering. In the past, I’ve thrown out a few appealing suggestions only to have them shot down for one reason or another.
She turns to me with raised brows. “Any ideas?”
Sorry girl, not falling for that again.
With my lips pressed together, I shake my head. “Nope.”
Unperturbed by my unwillingness to participate, Brinley shrugs and goes back to eyeing the chalkboard. As we fall silent, the back of my neck tingles with awareness. It feels like a million pairs of eyes are trained on me. I lift my hand and rub the spot before turning and scanning the area.
Almost immediately, my gaze collides with a girl sipping her drink at a table wedged in the back. Without looking away from me, she leans across the small, café-style table and whispers to her friend, who then turns and stares at me before whipping back around.
It’s just a coincidence.
Why would they be talking about you?
I yank my gaze from the pair. If I were smart, I’d stare straight ahead and ignore the creepy crawly feeling eating me alive. Instead, I glance around, needing to confirm whether I’ve got legitimate mental health issues. There are three girls and a guy sitting at the next table. None of them are paying me the least bit of attention.
Relief rushes through me.
Okay.
Good.
The Rhode Island sized pit sitting at the bottom of my belly diminishes.
As my gaze slides around the room, it gets caught by a lone guy sitting at a table, enjoying a cup of coffee. Our eyes lock and a shiver of unease scuttles down my spine when he smirks and waggles his brows.
What the hell?
I shoot him a frown, wanting him to look away first. When he remains focused on me, I turn away and rub my hands up and down my bare arms. My unease turns palpable as goose bumps break out across my skin. It’s mid-September and the weather is still warm. Yet, I’m wishing I’d worn a sweater. Something to cover the thin T-shirt I’m wearing.
Out of the dozen or so people milling around the shop, about five or six are openly watching me. I don’t care what Brinley says, there’s no way this is a figment of my imagination. My face heats as I tug on her arm.
She rips her gaze from the board and meets my eyes. “What’s up? Did you decide to order something? If so, I recommend the mocha latte with a shot of vanilla and extra whip. It’s never been a disappointment.”
I swear Brin has tunnel vision when it comes to coffee.
How is she oblivious to what’s going on?
“No,” I whisper harshly, leaning toward her. “Take a look around. Don’t you see all these people staring at me?”
Brinley takes a moment to survey the surrounding vicinity. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds before she purses her lips.
See? I’m not crazy!
“I told you!” I mutter under my breath. “People have been staring all morning!”
Now that I know it’s not a figment of my imagination, I just want to get out of here.
Before I can grab Brin’s arm and drag her from the shop, she plants her hands on her hips and bellows, “All right people, what’s the problem?”
All previous chatter screeches to a halt as customers swivel in their seats and gape at her.
“What the hell is so interesting, huh?” There’s a pause. “Haven’t you ever seen a virgin before? She’s not some kind of freakshow you can gawk at!” Brinley waves a hand in my direction. “The girl has feelings just like everyone else!”
My mouth falls open but all I can manage is a small, pathetic squeak of humiliation.
Brin doesn’t glance my way as her voice continues to escalate. Sure, I wanted everyone to stop watching me but this wasn’t the way I envisioned it happening.
“Seriously, go back to your pathetic little lives! There’s nothing to see here!” She takes a moment to glare at each and every person until they lower their gazes.
Without Brinley’s booming voice to fill the void, the coffeehouse is dead silent. Even the baristas have stopped what they were doing and are gaping in shock.
At the both of us.
But mostly me.
The last virgin at Southern.
Maybe on earth.
Unable to stand another moment of this humiliation, I dig my nails into Brinley’s hand and drag her from the shop. The door hasn’t even closed behind us when I hear a burst of laughter and voices from inside.
“Damn, girl, that hurts!” she yelps, prying my nails from her flesh. “What’s that about?”
Really?
I want to scream. There is so much anger and humiliation rushing through my veins that I’m shaking with it. “I can’t believe you just did that!”
“You wanted them to stop looking at you.” Brinley’s lips sink into a frown as her brows draw together. “So, I made them stop.”
“Brin!” I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, applying enough pressure for stars to dance behind my eyelids. “You called me a freakshow!”
“Actually,” she points out with an irritating amount of calm, “I told them that you weren’t a freakshow.” I lower my hands as she gestures toward the coffeehouse we’re standing outside of. “You heard me in there.”
Yes, I most certainly did. It will be a long time before the mortification of this incident fades. If ever.
I don’t get it. Why are these people talking about me? We’re all virgins until some point. So what if it’s taken me a little longer than most? Who gives a damn? Why is it a big deal?
It’s not even nine o’clock in the morning and I’m tempted to call it a day. But I can’t afford to miss any of my classes. Especially Dickerson’s. Unless you bring a note from the on-campus health center, he’ll dock you points.
&n
bsp; “Okay,” Brinley says cutting into my thoughts. “Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled in there. I didn’t mean to make matters worse.”
But she did. This experience rivals Friday night and that’s saying something.
“Come on, Em, don’t worry about it.” Trying to downplay the situation, she waves her hand. “You know what it’s like around here. Even if people are talking about your virginity, it’ll blow over. By next weekend, someone else’s life will fall apart and these assholes will be on to the next juicy bit of gossip.”
I shake my head and pray she’s right. Because I need this to go away. I can’t live with people whispering and staring at me every time I leave my apartment. I’m a girl who likes to fly under the radar. Instead, I’m living under a microscope.
“I gotta go,” I mumble, dreading the next couple of hours on campus. “I’ll see you later.”
Before I can escape, Brinley pulls me in for a hug before smacking a quick kiss against my cheek. “Everything will be fine.”
“Promise?” Her reassurance is all I have to cling to at the moment.
“Yup. It always is.” She gives me an encouraging smile before nodding toward The Beanery. “I’m going to duck back inside and grab a coffee. My professor won’t care if I’m a few minutes late.”
Only Brin would return to the scene of the crime. She gives zero fucks.
I sigh, wishing I could be a little more like that.
As she strolls into the shop, I take off for Edmonton Hall, the business building on campus where my Managerial and Cost Accounting class is held. On the way over, I pull out a pair of oversized sunglasses from my purse and cover my eyes. I keep my head down and move inconspicuously through the crowd.
Five minutes later, I slide onto my normal seat with a sigh of relief. Brin is right. At some point, this will blow over. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but it’ll happen. With a population of ten thousand students, the gossip mill is always churning at Southern. I just have to be patient and wait it out.
My body tenses as someone parks themselves next to me. Afraid to glance at my new neighbor, I keep my attention focused straight ahead.
“Hey, Emerson,” a male voice rumbles from beside me.
Taking a deep breath, I peek over, instantly recognizing the guy.
Josh.
He’s an accounting major like me who usually turns up in one of my classes each semester. We’re more acquaintances than anything else. Although, I’ll take any friendly face I can get. People are still shooting speculative looks my way, but with someone by my side, I don’t feel quite so alone.
“Hi.” I give him a tentative smile in greeting.
He takes his time unloading his backpack before setting up his laptop on the desk. “Did you get a chance to finish up the assignment over the weekend?” He pauses and glances around as his voice dips. “You know Dr. Dick doesn’t accept late work.”
Everything in me loosens at the mention of the assignment I spent a few hours working on yesterday. I don’t bat an eyelash as Josh refers to our professor as Dr. Dick. Most people do. He’s a tough teacher, for sure.
What I discovered sophomore year when I had him, is that if you show up on time, pay attention, and hand everything in by the due date, there’s no reason you can’t do well in his class.
That being said, I’d much rather discuss Dr. Dickerson and our assignment than the gossip about me that’s spreading through campus like wildfire. It’s a relief that Josh hasn’t brought it up. I latch on to our conversation like it’s a lifeline and nod enthusiastically before angling my body toward his. “I worked on it yesterday.”
He commiserates by groaning. “This chapter on managerial planning is killing me. It’s so boring. I could barely slog through it.”
I release a chuckle and relax against the seat. Thank goodness for Josh and our mundane conversation. This just might be what turns the morning around for me.
“It’s not the most interesting material, but it’s not so bad.”
We pull out our assignments and with our heads bent together, compare answers. They’re similar enough, which means we’re both on the right track.
I’ve almost forgotten about the coffeeshop incident when Josh clears his throat.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get together this weekend.”
“To study?” I ask with a hopeful note threading its way through my voice.
Please let it be for studying.
“Sure.” He shrugs with a nod. “We could study.” There’s a pause. “Or we could, you know…” A wolfish grin slides across his face. “Do more interesting things.”
I gulp, not liking the direction this conversation is headed.
Josh leans closer. “I’ve never been with a virgin before. I’d love to be the one who ushers you into womanhood.”
Ushers me into womanhood?
Ewwww!
A shudder of disgust wracks my body.
Who says something like that?
When I remain silent, too stunned to tell him to go to hell, Josh takes that as a green light to proceed. His smile widens as he trails a finger over my arm. I jerk away and bat at his hand. “What you just said was super creepy,” I snarl, trying to stop my voice from trembling with emotion. “I’m going to count to three and if your ass isn’t out of that seat, I’m going to scream my head off.”
He blinks. “So…that’s a no to getting together?”
“Up!” I snap, glancing around the room. Everyone is already gawking at me, so what does it matter if I cause a scene?
At least if I look crazy, people will think twice about messing with me.
“Now!” I bark when he doesn’t move.
“Sheesh,” Josh grumbles, packing up his belongings and vacating the desk. “Virgins! So temperamental.”
He has no idea how temperamental I can be.
I growl and bear my teeth. Once Josh has moved on, I slump in my seat and try to hold back the tears that prick the back of my eyes as Dr. Dickerson steps up to the podium and begins class.
Chapter Fifteen
Reed
Alex dribbles the puck effortlessly with his stick and rushes toward the net. Once he crosses over the blue line, I dig my blades into the ice and take off after him. A smile curves his lips when he sees me coming.
As soon as I’m in striking distance, I use my stick to knock the puck free. He switches directions as I ram my shoulder into him. Another defenseman swoops in and I steal the puck, hauling ass to the other side of the ice. Alex swears under his breath as he races after me. He’s fast, but not quick enough to catch me. I deke out one of my teammates before winding up and slapping the puck. Colton drops to his knees and blocks the shot.
He grins as I circle the net. “Nice try, asswipe.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for more.”
He chuckles as we knock gloves and I head back to my side of the ice.
I’m not sure what makes me glance at the stands, I’m usually not distracted by the fans who like to watch practice, but a flash of color grabs my attention. Everything in me tightens when my eyes land on Emerson sitting midway up the bleachers. She gives me a slight smile in greeting as our eyes connect. I lift my glove and—
Get knocked off my skates as someone trucks into me. I land flat on my ass. Thank fuck I’m wearing all this padding or I’d be in a world of hurt. I glare at Alex’s grinning mug as it hovers above me.
Asshole.
“That’s what happens when you don’t pay attention to what’s happening on the ice.” He glances at the stands and smirks. “I see our little virgin has come to watch practice.” He makes a few kissy noises.
I growl and scramble to my feet. “You’re fucking toast, McAvoy!”
Already ten feet away, he chuckles and flips around on his skates, creating more distance between us before blowing me a kiss. “Come and get me, lover boy.”
For the next twenty minutes, I make Alex my bitch.
He wants to teach me a les
son?
I don’t think so.
The next time he decides to come for me, he’ll think twice. But then again, this is Alex we’re talking about, so maybe not.
By the time Coach blows his whistle signaling the end of practice, I’m breathing hard and ready to tear Alex’s head from his body so I can shit down his throat. In the three years that Alex and I have been teammates, we’ve never had an issue.
Well…other than him being a dumbass.
I don’t necessarily have a problem with him now, but the guy loves to shoot off his mouth and just like Colton mentioned before, Emerson is my Achilles’ heel.
I haven’t looked in Em’s direction since I was knocked to the ice. It pisses me off that she saw one of my teammates make a fool out of me. When I finally do glance her way, her face is pinched with concern as if she doesn’t know what to make of my behavior.
Guess that makes two of us.
Once the team hits the locker room, I strip out of my gear, shower, and change. Alex stops by on his way out.
“No hard feelings?”
“Nah.” I huff out a breath as tension drains from my shoulder blades and we bump fists.
He jerks his head into a nod and shifts the bag on his shoulder. “So, about Emerson—”
I point toward the locker room door and bark, “Get out of my sight, McAvoy!”
A shit-eating grin slides across his face as he holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Chill out. It was just a question.” With a hoot of laughter, he disappears through the door.
That guy is going to wake up covered in bruises tomorrow morning thanks to yours truly. You’d think he would learn to keep his big trap shut.
No such luck.
Colton smiles and shakes his head. “What a dickhead.”
I’m sure it hasn’t gone unnoticed that Emerson is waiting for me in the rink. The last thing I need is another convo with Colton regarding that particular situation. All his advice did was cause problems with her. And I don’t need that. Once I’m dressed, I grab my backpack and head for the door. “See you back at the house.”
Just Friends Page 9