by Katie Wismer
“Should I order an Uber?” Miller suggested.
“No,” Kayleigh whined and stuck her lower lip out. She slung her arm over Jo’s shoulders, leaning more weight onto Jo than she’d expected, and they both stumbled to the side. “Not until Jo gives that guy her number.”
“I’m not giving anyone my number,” said Jo as she clung to Kayleigh’s arm, trying to keep them both upright.
“Well that’s a shame.”
She jumped at the deep voice behind her and whipped around.
The lead singer ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, his white T-shirt now clinging to his chest with sweat. “I don’t believe I had the chance to introduce myself before. I’m Greyson, but you can call me Grey.”
“Her name’s Johanna!” Kayleigh nearly cried out. “But she goes by Jo.”
Jo shot her a disbelieving look. Traitor.
“Johanna.” Grey smiled as he said it, like he liked the way her name tasted in his mouth. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“We were just leaving,” said Jo.
He was beautiful—she wasn’t oblivious. But he also looked like trouble, something Johanna was desperately trying to avoid. College was her fresh start. She wasn’t going to ruin that the very first week just because some guy in a band looked good in leather pants and had long eyelashes.
“Well,” said Kayleigh. “There’s a wait for an Uber anyway…”
Grey stepped forward, close enough that the earthy smell of him flooded her senses. He lifted a lock of her hair and twisted the curl around his fingers. She forced herself to keep a neutral expression, but her breath caught in her throat. “So what’ll it be, Johanna?” he murmured. “One beer?”
Jo pursed her lips and cast her gaze toward the long line of people waiting for a car on the sidewalk. “I’m going to go wait at that table over there.” She pointed to one of the bar tables near the door. “And if you can get one before the Uber gets here, then fine.”
Grey grinned, accepting the challenge, and wove back through the crowd toward the bar, shrugging off girls who threw their hands at him as he went. Kayleigh opened her mouth, but Jo held up a finger to stop her.
“Don’t. Say. Anything.”
“I’ll be by the bar,” Miller announced, and when Kayleigh hesitated by Jo’s side, he reached over, hooked his arm through Kayleigh’s elbow, and hauled her along with him. Jo sighed, ventured over toward the windows, and slid into one of the stools. The crowd started to thin as people filtered out the door, a few pausing just outside to smoke.
“Peace offering.”
Grey slid a beer across the table to Jo. The chatter of the bar and clamoring of equipment as the rest of the band packed up faded to the background as he came into focus. He braced his forearms on the narrow table and leaned forward, leaving barely a foot of space between their faces. He had blue eyes, Johanna realized. A detail she hadn’t noticed before.
She sipped the beer and raised her eyebrows.
“You don’t like it,” said Grey.
Jo took another sip and tilted her head to the side, considering. She wasn’t a fan of beer in general, but this one had a sort of citrusy aftertaste. She couldn’t decide how she felt about it. “It’s not bad.”
His lips turned up. “You seem very hard to please.”
“Maybe you’re just not used to being around people who have standards.”
He leaned back in his chair, his laugh crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I like you, Johanna.”
She set the beer back down. “You don’t know me.”
He raised his palms, smile still entirely intact. “Not from lack of trying.”
Jo spotted Miller out of the corner of her eye. He was hesitating by the bar, sipping his new beer, eyes flicking from Kayleigh talking beside him to Jo’s table every few seconds.
She turned back to Grey, and his gaze bored into hers. It felt like a challenge. But there was so much intensity in his eyes, so much heat, that Johanna’s cheeks warmed despite herself, and she was the first to lower her gaze. She spun the beer between her palms, focusing on the cold glass against her skin.
“Let me take you out sometime,” he said. “Somewhere without your friend staring at us from the bar. Somewhere you’ll actually let me get to know you.”
Against her better judgement, she looked up. His wide, blue eyes searched hers. A flash of heat shot through her chest. She should’ve said no. God, she knew she needed to say no. But somehow, she found herself straightening in her chair and forcing a coy smile onto her face. “Fine. But you only get one hour.”
This time when he leaned in close, he wasn’t smiling. Something like wicked amusement danced in his eyes as he whispered, “Baby, one hour is all I need.”
2
Senior Year - March
The last light in the hall flickered out, jolting Jo out of her trance. She leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes; Photoshop burned in the backs of her eyelids. There was something not quite right. She blew the air out of her cheeks and leaned forward again to sift through the layers one last time. She’d been tinkering with the same photo for nearly an hour now, but it still wasn’t perfect. And it was the opening image for her portfolio, so it needed to be.
She squinted a single eye shut and tilted her head to the side. Maybe she’d been wasting her time. Maybe she should’ve just left the photo in black and white like she’d originally planned—
“You know, if I were a murderer, you would totally be dead by now.”
Jo jumped and spun her chair around. Miller stood a few paces behind her in sweaty workout clothes, a brown paper bag in hand. He glanced around the empty computer lab—the only light coming from Jo’s screen and the emergency fixture above the door—then looked back to her.
“How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.
He stared at her blankly. “Several minutes.”
“Miller!”
He held up his hands. “I said your name like three times.”
“Oh.” She rubbed her eyes again. “Sorry. I’ve just been freaking out trying to get my portfolio perfect before the final showcase.”
He braced his arms on the desk around her and leaned down to inspect the screen. The shot she’d been working on was a close-up profile of a girl from her advanced photography workshop. Jo had slicked back her hair to show off her bone structure and added a lacy shadow over half of her face.
Miller made a low hmm noise in the back of his throat and straightened. “Looks pretty perfect to me, like always.”
Jo’s eyes shot to the bag he’d set on the desk. “What’s in there?”
“Well, I thought I might find you in here, and I also figured you forgot to eat dinner again, so I swung by the dining hall after class.”
“Dinner?” She pulled out her phone, a small jolt going through her chest at the sight of 10:02 p.m.—though she supposed she should’ve assumed as much from Miller’s appearance. His boxing class didn’t let out until 9:30. A slew of texts littered her screen, all from Jordan, all derivatives of we still on for tonight? “Shit,” she muttered.
Miller quirked an eyebrow and glanced sideways at her phone. “Please tell me that isn’t Teacher’s Pet.”
Jo smiled innocently and powered down the computer.
Miller scoffed. “I thought you ended things with him weeks ago.”
Jo shrugged and slung her backpack over her shoulder. “It’s a small school, and these are desperate times.” She leaned forward to peek in the bag, but he snatched it out of reach.
“Absolutely not. I am not rewarding poor decisions with pasta.”
She batted her eyelashes. “You’d rather I starve?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Fuck.” He tossed the bag at her. “Just let it be known that I voiced my disapproval.”
She nodded seriously, already fishing the plastic fork out of the bag. “Duly noted.”
“And please,” he added as they slipped into the dark hallway. “
For the love of God, never share any details with me.”
The majority of the attraction with Jordan laid in the convenience. He had an apartment in the same building as Jo and Miller, though his was several floors higher up. And as far as college boy apartments went, it wasn’t…horrible. Jo had certainly been in worse. If nothing else, he had the view going for him. Three tall windows covered the back wall and looked out toward the mountains. The rest of the apartment was minimally furnished—a leather couch from Goodwill in the corner, a flat screen TV on the wall, a mattress on the floor. At least he put sheets on the bed before Jo showed up.
He had a bottle of wine waiting on the kitchen island, and Jo eagerly accepted a glass, her eyes drifting to whatever medical drama was playing on the TV. Whether he was watching it for himself or he put it on because he thought she’d like it—she didn’t ask.
He rolled up the sleeves of his gray hoodie and leaned against the counter, twisting the wine glass between his hands. His round glasses were noticeably absent tonight, his curly blonde hair pushed back from his face. Light stubble lined his jaw, more than usual. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but quickly closed it.
Jo raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He shook his head, smiling a little. “I was going to ask how your paper for Wells’ class was going, but thought better of it.”
Her eyebrow lifted another inch, and she skimmed her fingertips across the counter as she paced toward him, stopping only once their bodies were inches apart. Jordan stood up a little taller.
“Thought better of it because you assume it’s going poorly?”
Truthfully, she hadn’t even started it yet—hadn’t worked on anything but her portfolio in nearly a week. It would probably take an all-nighter at this point, but she’d get it done.
His eyes flicked down to her mouth. “Thought better of it because I assumed you didn’t want to talk about class tonight. Unless you came here for tutoring, because then I think we really got our wires crossed.”
“We’ve talked about you talking less, right?” She grabbed the back of his head, her fingers knotting in his hair. “I thought we talked about this.” A single corner of her mouth curled as she said it, and she leaned forward until their lips were close enough to brush, but not quite. She was only half kidding. She’d spent the entire elevator ride up here brainstorming ways to occupy him so he wouldn’t have the chance to ask how’s that? every five seconds.
He nodded quickly. “Yep. Shutting up now.”
At least this time when they kissed, there was less tongue than usual—a gradual buildup instead of an outright attack. There was only so much Jo could do, but at least he was slightly trainable. His hands slid down the backs of her legs, cupped her thighs, and hoisted her into his arms. She locked her legs around his waist as he carried her toward his room, his lips never breaking from hers. The mattress slid along the wood floor as they collapsed on top of it. Every time he opened his mouth and looked like he was going to talk, she reached up and pulled him in for another kiss. His stubble scraped along her skin as his lips trailed down her neck.
And then, unfortunately, the tongue reappeared full force. He licked from her collarbone to just below her ear and leaned over to do the same on the other side. Jo squeezed her eyes shut, but the damage was done. Whatever mood she’d managed to muster for herself was gone.
“Jordan.” She pushed herself up on her elbows, and he pulled back, his eyes half closed. She trailed her hands down his arms braced on either side of her, fingers tracing over the cords of muscle and veins standing out in his forearms. She forced herself to pause and consider her words.
“It was the tongue thing, wasn’t it?” he asked.
She grimaced.
“Can we try one more time?” He leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “I won’t disappoint, I promise.”
Jo very much doubted that, but forced a smile onto her face and nodded.
Jordan always fell asleep shortly after, his snores filling the apartment around them. Jo stared at the traces of moonlight on the ceiling for a moment, before tilting her head to look at him. He was passed out on his back, his lips slightly parted, one arm thrown over his head. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. His other arm lay between them, slightly extended toward her side of the bed like he was reaching for her.
It should’ve been sweet. It should’ve been everything she wanted, and maybe four years ago, it would’ve been. But looking at Jordan’s peaceful profile, no matter how hard she tried, it made her feel absolutely nothing at all. And maybe that was the point.
She gently lifted the sheets and slid from the bed, squinting for her clothes in the dim light.
“Hey.” The bed shifted beneath her, and Jordan’s fingers brushed against her arm. “You leaving?”
Finding her sweatshirt on the floor beside the mattress, she grabbed it and yanked it back over her head. “Yeah, sorry if I woke you.”
The sheets rustled and his breath tickled the back of her neck as he came up to rest his chin on her shoulder. “You could stay, if you wanted.” His arms curled around her stomach and pulled her back against his chest. “I was thinking maybe we could do that more. Maybe hang out…other times.”
Jo sighed and closed her eyes. She’d really been hoping it wasn’t going to come to this. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jordan. I should get home.” She untangled herself from him and stood, searching the ground for her leggings.
He watched her from the edge of the mattress and ran a hand through his hair. “I like you, Jo. More than just four-a.m.-phone-calls like you.”
She jumped as she shimmied into her leggings and blew the hair out of her eyes. “Look, Jordan, it’s not that I don’t like you. We’ve had fun. I’m just not looking for anything more than that. I’m not doing relationships right now. Not with you—not with anyone.”
He locked his hands together in front of him, looked at the floor, and nodded slowly. It was probably one of the most pitiful things Jo had ever seen.
The smart thing to do would be to keep walking without another word. It was the coddled feelings that got them here in the first place. But still, seeing him like that, it reminded her of a version of herself she didn’t like to think about anymore.
She knelt down in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders, shaking him until he finally looked at her. He pressed his lips together in a sad excuse for a smile. “Got it.”
“I’ll see you around, Jordan.” Then she leaned forward, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and left.
3
Freshman Year - August
Kayleigh rose onto her tiptoes as she strung the hot pink sheet across the room, tucking it between the lofted beds. A sea of blankets and pillows were already situated on the floor between them, the fort already fully stocked with three boxes of Lime-a-ritas and a family-sized bag of potato chips.
“Don’t knock the whole thing down!” Addie scolded as Liv climbed on Kayleigh’s desk to secure the other sheet across the back, this one a far less assaulting shade of lavender. Liv rolled her eyes as she hopped back down, her bunny slippers making a soft thud against the floor. Her curly black hair was pulled back in two braids and whipped around her shoulders as she collapsed onto the floor and eagerly grabbed a drink from the middle.
Jo tucked herself into the corner beside her bed and cracked open a can, watching as Kayleigh finished constructing their masterpiece. She’d brought down the string lights that usually hung above her bed and wound them around on the floor. They glowed against the bright sheets and cast a pink tint to everyone’s faces.
“Perfect!” Kayleigh ducked inside and plopped down across from Jo, her oversized T-shirt billowing out around her like a tent.
The entire room hummed with giddy energy as Liv thrust her Lime-a-rita into the middle of their circle. “I want to go first!” she announced. “Never have I ever…” She tilted her head to the side as she considered her next wor
ds, her grin slowly twisting into something mischievous. “Had sex with another woman.”
“Oh, real nice.” Addie rolled her eyes and threw back a sip of her drink.
Jo watched with wide eyes as Kayleigh also tipped her can back. When she caught Jo looking, Kayleigh shrugged. “Senior beach week.”
“My turn!” Addie swiveled her head to raise her eyebrows at Liv. “Never have I ever done cocaine.”
“I’m not ashamed of that,” Liv said matter-of-factly and took a long swig from her drink.
“Are the two of you just going to keep targeting each other all night?” Kayleigh demanded.
“By all means,” said Addie. “Give us a good one.”
Kayleigh shifted and crossed her legs, balancing her drink on her knee. “Never have I ever…” She narrowed her eyes a bit. “Gotten so drunk I’ve thrown up.”
Jo, Addie, and Liv all raised their cups and laughed.
“Cheers, ladies!” Liv sang, clanking her can against the others before eagerly gulping down another mouthful. When she was done, she crushed the can in her fist and tossed it vaguely in the direction of the trash can by the door. Her gaze shot from Addie’s face to the drink in her hand. “Looks like you’re already behind.”
“Maybe I’m just pacing myself,” said Addie.
Kayleigh nudged Jo with her knee. “Your turn.”
All three girls turned to her expectantly. Jo drummed her nails on her can, her mind suddenly blank. She didn’t have anything even remotely in the same league as the rest of them.
“Come on!” said Liv. “What’s the first thing that pops into your head?”
An image from senior year flashed into Jo’s mind—the one moment she’d been pointedly trying not to think about ever since it happened. But without it, her history was a slew of near misses and false starts—nothing worth oohing and ahhing over. Nothing that was really that interesting at all.