Catching Liam (Good Girls Don't) (4 page)

chapter six

It only took one more well-meaning phone call from Tara to send me spiraling into despair. She must have known that calling on Friday would effectively ruin my weekend, but I was determined not to let her get me down. It took a considerable amount of coaxing, but I managed to convince Cassie and Jess to go out. As I sat across from them and their boyfriends, I wondered if it was really worth it.

Trevor, who had an obsessive need for our approval, was buying all our drinks, so it wasn’t all that bad. At least he actually tried to talk to us, unlike Brett who sat like a sad statue next to Jess.

Garrett’s had decided to make the bar into a more club-like atmosphere on the weekends, so the place was packed. They’d also introduced two burly bouncers, which were totally unnecessary in Olympic Falls, population 9,200.

A waitress popped by our table. “Can I get you another round?”

“Yes, you can.” Trevor flashed her a Cheshire cat smile, and Cassie snuggled into him, giving him a peck on the cheek. Trevor liked to show off his money as much as possible, and Cassie didn’t seem to mind. Of course, I couldn’t help but notice how his gaze followed the waitress’s ass as she headed toward the bar.

The music pulsed into something electronic, which was very un-Garrett’s, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind. Jess leaned over to Brett, but he shook his head, so she grabbed my hand. We pushed our way onto the dance floor and started shaking with the beat. Dancing with Jess was always a laugh, because she totally let loose. For a minute, as I watched her fling her blonde hair wildly, I remembered the carefree girl I’d been assigned to live with my first year at Olympic State. Now that she was serious about her MCATs and getting into the right med school, she’d chilled considerably. It was nice to see her having some fun.

Cassie joined us, and we all pressed close together, waving our hands over our heads. It didn’t take long for Trevor to sneak in, which attracted a few more guys to our party. Apparently Trevor’s presence was like a homing beacon for horny dudes. One of them grinded against me as I scanned the crowd, but I didn’t recognize anyone. I barely noticed how the guy’s hands were creeping up my stomach until Jess pulled me closer to her and out of his grasp. I mouthed a
thank you
. The danger of the new Garrett’s was that I was too comfortable here, which meant I wound up not realizing that I was falling victim to loose change. We’d coined the term our freshman year for the sleazy types who acted like they were in the opening scenes of some bad porno flick.

Jess put her arms around my waist and danced close to me, preventing any guys from getting too close to us, although more than a few stopped to admire the spectacle. They all looked like jerks, and I couldn’t help but think that it was sad that two girls dancing together was such an asshole magnet.

The music changed to something slower and we turned into one another and pretended to waltz. This was what I missed, being silly with my best friends. Cassie was tangled up with Trevor, her eyes glued to his as his hands groped down her back. Jess made a gagging face, but then her eyes swept over to Brett. I pushed her toward him.

“No,” she called over the loud music.

“It’s cool. I need to go to the bathroom.”

Jess looked torn, but she headed back to Brett. I watched as she looped her arms around his neck, and a wave of jealousy rolled through me. I couldn’t help but feel like the fifth wheel with the guys around.

In the bathroom, a freshman was puking in the toilet, and I stopped to pull her hair back.

“Thanks,” she moaned before she retched again.

It was the unwritten rule of Garrett’s that you held hair for girls in the bathroom. Cassie, Jess and I had all done our time over the toilet here, and there was nothing worse than being sick alone on the dirty bar floor.

But suddenly the whole atmosphere felt less than glamourous. Once I was sure she was okay, if a bit gutted, I headed back to our table. A mess of blonde hair caught my attention, and I slowed down, but when the guy turned around, I didn’t recognize him and my heart sank. Was I actually looking for Liam? Had I gotten that pathetic? I wiggled through the crowd. Brett and Jess had progressed to a full-blown make-out session, and Cassie was nowhere to be seen. Jess broke away as soon as I plopped down on the stool.

“Cass headed home with Trevor,” she told me.

I spotted Brett’s hand rubbing her thigh.

“I think I’m going to head home too,” I said, giving her the out to go home with Brett and have boring, quiet sex. At least, someone would get laid tonight.

“It’s early though.” There was hesitation in her voice, and I knew she was only sticking around for me.

“I’m tired,” I lied. I was wide awake, but a night watching Netflix was sounding better and better. It was that or staying here to watch Jess and Brett’s foreplay. I grabbed my wallet and pecked Jess on the cheek.

“You want us to walk you home?”

“I’m fine. It’s only ten,” I reminded her.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Get some rest.” It was an order. Sometimes she sounded like she’d already taken her Hippocratic Oath.

“Yes, Dr. Stone.” I gave her a salute.

The air outside Garrett’s was chilly. It was only the beginning of September, but it didn’t take long for the Washington nights to turn cool. I fumbled with my iPhone as I headed home, lingering over the newest entry in my contact list, before I hit the sleep button and shoved it in my pocket.

Did I really want to wind up like Jess and Cassie running home early on Friday nights with their boyfriends? Sure, they had access to on-demand sex, but I had on-demand movies waiting for me. A night at home would be fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d just been alone. Wouldn’t it be a drag to have to share that with a boyfriend?

I ignored the little voice in my head that whispered “no.”

chapter seven

Markson skated into class five minutes late, narrowly avoiding the ten minute rule every student at Olympic Falls lived by. We were only five more minutes away from walking out of the classroom. His vest was wrinkled and he ran his hands through his tangled black hair, trying to smooth it into place. He had the distinct look of someone who had just woken up.

“Sorry,” he called, waving a stack of papers. “Copier jammed.”

“Alarm didn’t work?” I asked.

“I wish,” he said as he handed sheets of paper to each row. “More like no rest for the wicked.”

There was a devilish gleam in his eyes as he said it. Apparently, Markson had a life outside of his office, and that life kept him out late. Maybe we had more in common than I previously thought. I watched as he continued through the classroom. In his disheveled attire, he looked like a frat guy who had just rolled out of bed.

“Should I be jealous?” Liam whispered.

“I don’t do jealous friends,” I said in an effort to remind him of where he stood with me. It was also a real warning. I couldn’t stand when my friends got pushy and jealous, and that went even more for guys. The last boy I’d bothered to date was possessive, which irritated me to no end. Although it did end—and quickly at that.

Liam leaned against his chair and whistled as he read his assignment paper. “This should be fun.”

That didn’t sound good. Scanning the paper, my stomach turned over. It was a project to be completed with our partner outside of class.

But that wasn’t the fun part.

“Now,” Markson said, pushing himself onto the front desk, “before you all freak out. I realize that this sounds a lot like a date. It is not a date!”

I reread the paper. It sounded like a date to me.

“I’m not complaining,” Liam said, his mouth splitting into a grin.

“Thank you for the validation, Mr. McAvoy.”

Liam gave him a very masculine-code-of-conduct nod.
Boys.

“The purpose of this assignment is to teach you to consider the various needs of your partner...”

“I like this assignment,” Liam whispered to me.

“You would.”

Meanwhile, Markson continued his explanation, although he shot us a warning glance to stop talking. “We all act within certain societal constructs, so the roles we engage in are based on our experiences. If you will, a person who grew up with a lot of money, for instance, might act differently on a date than someone who grew up poor.”

“I thought you said this
wasn’t
a date,” someone said from the back row.

“It was an example.” Markson held up his hands as if to say don’t shoot the messenger.

“I’m in favor of calling it a date,” Liam said.

From across the classroom someone hummed a few bars of “Matchmaker, Matchmaker.”

“As much as I’d love to see you all get married, have babies, and name them for your venerable professor, I’m fairly certain most of you aren’t interested in dating each other, save for Mr. McAvoy.”

There were a few catcalls and Liam gave a half-bow from his seat.

“All this project asks you to do is spend an afternoon or evening with your partner, trying to engage in the behavior you anticipate
they
would normally assume if you spent recreational time together. Ideally, you will base this on the information you’ve garnered from getting to know them in class, but you can also fall back on more stereotypical models. Girls, hold open the doors and pay the tabs. Boys, ask her to pick you up.”

“That’s not really how it works. Guys don’t hold open doors, and I don’t expect people to pick me up,” I complained. Markson was way too young to have such a ‘50s attitude toward dating.

“Chivalry is dead,” a girl said in agreement.

“‘Cause feminism killed it,” her partner said.

“Because we never needed it in the first place,” I shot back.

“We still have chivalry in Scotland,” Liam said to me. “Let me show you sometime.”

“Once again, examples! You can choose whatever takes you out of your comfort zone and forces you to consider how to meet the expectations of your partner while communicating your own. It’s called walking a mile in someone else’s shoes.”

I glanced around the classroom. Two guys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, looking at each other. What I wouldn’t give to see what they would come up with. For a brief second, I imagined the two of them getting pedicures at Tough as Nails down the street. Not that I was going to do it myself. Markson couldn’t force me to go out with Liam. If it wasn’t completely crazy, I might have asked if Liam had put him up to it.

“And for those of you who are thinking, he can’t make me do this,” Markson said as if he were reading my thoughts. “You are right. However, please note this is your mid-term assignment. I’m giving you ample time to complete this, and it’s worth 40% of your final grade.”

I groaned, checking my sheet to see that I had to complete the assignment by mid-term, which was only two weeks away. I cursed the unusually short semesters that ran all of three and a half months at Olympic State.

“You each need to write up a five to seven page paper on the experience, which will be turned in separately from your partner.”

This time everyone in the class groaned along with me. Why did every professor at the college think they taught the only class we were taking? There was nothing like getting hit with an unexpected paper two weeks before mid-term exams, especially when it required such uncomfortable research.

“Please write your paper independently from your partner. I want your insight into the experiment, not what your partner wants you to say.” I wasn’t dreaming that he looked right at me as he added the last part of the assignment.

So all I had to do was go on a not-a-date with Liam, who thought it was a date, and then pretend to be him, and write a paper about the experience.

“And to show you that I am not heartless, you are free to go for the day once you’ve worked out the details of your project with your partner,” Markson said to a smattering of applause. He beamed at us, but I wanted to wipe the smug grin from his face. I should have dropped this class when I had the chance for a tuition refund. Jess hadn’t mentioned any of these torturous assignments when she took this class. Had she been going out on not-a-dates last semester without me realizing it? Of course, with the number of study groups she attended each week, it wasn’t unthinkable.

“So—” Liam turned to me “—what works for your schedule?”

“Whatever. Maybe next week. We have two weeks to get it in,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders. I was simultaneously eager to get it over with while wanting to put it off forever. Liam had that effect on me.

“If it’s okay, I have a lot of big tests coming up the week this is due. I’d rather get it over with.”

Get it over with? How his tune had changed in a matter of minutes.

“Fine,” I agreed. It would be like a Band-Aid, much easier to rip off immediately rather than take too much time thinking about it. Waiting nearly two more weeks would only result in a slow, painful reminder of my impending doom.

“Tonight?”

I hesitated. “I have plans with my friend Jess.”

“Sorry, I’m being rash.” He reached over and grabbed my notebook, scribbling a number across a sheet. “I’m guessing you deleted my number.”

I hadn’t but I wasn’t about to admit it to him. Besides, there was something so delightfully old-school about the move that I reconsidered. “I’ll be done by eight. How about I call you?”

Liam raised an eyebrow.

“I’m adopting a traditional male role for this one,” I told him.

“Will I feel like I’m on an episode of
Mad Men
?” he asked me.

“Yes, I plan to speak down to you, and I expect you to bring me cocktails at the door,” I said in a flat voice. “I’m taking the initiative here. That’s what guys are supposed to do, right?”

“I’m not complaining,” Liam said. “But, and I hate to break it to you, in my experience, you usually take the initiative.”

I flushed scarlet as his words, unable to ignore the thought of his skin on my skin. Even the memory sizzled.

“Then maybe I should be the one who waits around for you? That’s definitely not like me.” It was a challenge.

Liam shook his head. “How about we use the things we learned from that first assignment? Forget the
Mad Men
remake.”

I tried to remember all the items Liam had listed about me, or the things I had learned about him. “Okay.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I’m not, but since you’re always so sure, I guess I’m trying that on for size.”

“I like the way you think.” Liam dropped his pen into his bag and stood. “See you tonight, Jillian.”

I tried to tell myself that the brief thrill that shivered through me was all part of the experience. I was clearly channeling Liam’s enthusiasm for this project, because racing hearts and date nights so weren’t my scene.