Claire (Hart University Book 2) (9 page)

He stopped in his tracks and I did, too, never more grateful for anything in my life as the simple cessation of movement. I couldn’t hide the fact that I was gasping for breath, and I knew I was tomato-red and not in an attractive way.

Sweat was pouring down my face. We’d stopped near one of the iron benches, and Will grabbed my hand and led me over to it.

“Shit,” he said, looking worried. He had a water bottle attached to his belt, and now he pulled it loose and handed it to me. “Here.”

I took a sip but I felt nauseous on top of everything else, and I was afraid if I drank too much I’d puke.

“You’re overheated,” he said, making me sound like a car engine. He knelt down in front of me, his handsome face so sweet and concerned I wanted to cry.

Now Becky pulled out her own water bottle. “You should pour this over your head,” she said, sounding as concerned as Will did. “That will cool you down.”

Maybe it would, but it would also render my humiliation complete. “No, that’s—”

“Good idea,” Will said, taking the bottle from Becky. He raised it over my head, turned it upside down, and let it gush.

I’d never experienced such a total dichotomy. The water felt wonderful on my body—glorious, even. But the utter humiliation of this moment seemed to wither my heart until it could have blown away like a dried leaf.

Dramatic much?

Yep. But as I sat there with water dripping into my eyes and soaking my clothes, I’d never felt such overwhelming despair.

I used the back of my hand to wipe my face.

“Okay, thanks. I’m good now. Why don’t you guys finish your run and I’ll—” I gestured back toward the way we’d come. “I’ll go back.”

Will was still kneeling in front of me. “No way. We’ll go back with you.”

At that moment, I would have done anything to keep that from happening. Trudge back to my car soaking wet with Will and Becky hovering solicitously? Oh, hell no.

I shook my head. “I’m fine. Really. You guys go on and I’ll—”

“I’m going back with you. This whole thing is my fault. I knew you weren’t a runner and I still let you come.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower. “Will, please. Please. I want to go by myself, okay?”

“We haven’t come that far. Just let me—”

Instinct made me turn toward Becky. “Please. I’ll be fine. I want you and Will to finish your run. Please?”

I’m not sure how much Becky understood about how miserable I was or why, but she gave me the help I needed.

“Do you have your cell phone with you?”

I nodded.

“All right. Let’s go, Will. Claire will call us if she needs anything. Right, Claire?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” I made a shooing motion with my hands. “Go, run, be free.”

Becky put a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Come on.”

“All right.” Will rose reluctantly, his face unhappy as he looked down at me. I smiled as cheerfully as I could and made the shooing motion again.

“I’ll see you later,” I said, even though, at that moment, I was planning to crawl into a hole and pull it in after me—and never face Will again.

Finally they left. I watched them until they were out of sight—man, they were in good shape—and then I slumped down on the bench and stared at the lake.

The mist was gone now, but it was still peaceful. It was so silent, in fact, that I could hear my heartbeat still thundering in my ears and the harsh rasp of my breathing.

I sat there for a good five minutes. I would have stayed longer, but I was afraid I might run into Will and Becky back at the science building if I didn’t head back soon.

So I dragged my sorry ass off the bench and plodded back the way we’d come.

Chapter Ten

I worried about Claire until we finished the first lap. When I saw that her car was gone from the science building parking lot, I knew she’d made it back okay.

Becky was the perfect jogging partner. She kept pace with me, she was fun to talk to, and she obviously loved running as much as I did.

I just hoped she couldn’t tell that my mind was on Claire when it should have been on her.

Once the run was over I did my best to refocus. “So, tonight. I’ll pick you up at seven?” I asked while we were doing our post-run stretches.

“Sounds great.”

If dinner went well, I’d be kissing Becky good night in about fifteen hours. If the kiss went well, maybe she’d invite me into her apartment.

Lissa was the first and only girl I’d been with. How was I supposed to know if I was a good kisser, or if Lissa and I had just been used to each other? What if I was a bad kisser?

What if I was bad in bed? What if—

Becky had said goodbye and started to leave. Now she stopped, came back, and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek.

“See you tonight,” she said, flashing a brilliant smile before turning away again.

I sank down onto the bench and stared after her.

Once she was around the corner of the science building and out of sight, I let go of the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Becky was nice, and I liked her. She wasn’t beautiful like Claire, but then no one was. Lissa wasn’t beautiful, either, but I’d loved the way she looked and I was definitely attracted to her.

I was attracted to Becky, too. Wasn’t I?

The touch of her lips hadn’t thrilled me the way the touch of Claire’s fingers did, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t attracted to her. Claire seemed pretty well committed to her singlehood pledge, and I’d decided I’d better make peace with that fact if I didn’t want to start mooning around writing poetry about unrequited love.

Then, when I’d made the date with Becky, Claire was the first one I told.

Was that because we were getting to be really close friends? Or because a part of me hoped she’d be jealous?

This morning’s run had shot that theory all to hell. No girl who liked a guy would go for a run she wasn’t in shape for and let herself get all blotchy and sweaty.

Of course Claire probably had no idea that when her face was red and glowing all I could think about was making her come, and wondering if she’d look like that afterward.

I sighed. Time to forget about the girl I couldn’t have and think about the girl who might actually want me.

* * *

I took Andre’s advice and dressed up that night, wearing khakis and a button-down shirt.

“In the current climate of casual sex and hookup culture,” he’d said, imitating our psych professor’s pedantic delivery, “a girl will appreciate a little retro courtship. Do it up right, man.”

I’d also taken his advice about the date itself, making a reservation at a restaurant downtown.

Becky lived in an off-campus student apartment building. I got there at six-thirty, realizing after I found a parking place that I couldn’t show up at her door half an hour early.

Okay, no big deal. I’d just wait in the car.

I watched the traffic going by for about ten minutes. Then I pulled out my phone and texted Claire.

I’m supposed to pick Becky up at 7. I got here early and I’m sitting in my car. I’m nervous as hell and I feel like an idiot. Help.

I sat and stared at my phone, waiting for her response.

It came after a minute.

What are you nervous about? That girl’s crazy about you.

She was?

I started typing again.

Why do you think that?

I only had to wait ten seconds this time.

Are you kidding? She hip bumped you this morning.

That was true. I remembered it. And she’d kissed me on the cheek. But—

That doesn’t mean she’s crazy about me.

Oh, please. Any kind of touching at this stage is a sign. But hip to hip? Dude, that’s below the belt touching. Very close to the danger zone. SHE WANTS YOU.

When Claire texted in all caps, I could visualize her talking—her arms and hands getting into the action. When Claire was excited or emphatic she talked with her whole body. She was like that on stage, too.

I grinned as I typed my response.

Maybe you should come with me on this date to translate the body language. I obviously don’t have a clue.

That’s what makes you adorable. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.

Claire thought I was adorable?

What if I’m not?

OH MY GOD. Just get out of your car and go. You can be a few minutes early.

I checked the time; eight minutes till seven. If I walked slow I’d be at her door right on the dot.

Okay. But keep your phone close just in case.

Just in case what? You need me to rescue you? Forget it, buddy. I’m already in my pajamas and I’m not leaving the dorm tonight. I have a hundred pages of biology to read.

I pictured Claire curled up in bed with a textbook.

I won’t ask you to leave the dorm. But what if I need advice?

During your date? What are you going to do, text me under the table? Here’s some advice: DO NOT DO THAT. I’m signing off now. Good luck and have fun, you goofball.

I smiled as I slid my phone into my pocket. Then I got out of the car, took a deep breath, and went to knock on Becky’s door.

* * *

An hour or so later, Becky and I were at the restaurant. We were finishing our salads when her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and made a face.

“Do you mind if I go outside and answer this? It’s my dad.”

“No, of course not. Take your time.”

I waited until she was out of sight and then I pulled out my own phone.

Are you there?

The response came almost immediately.

Yes, I’m here. How’s it going? Please tell me you’re not texting under the table.

I smiled.

No, she had to take a call from her dad. She’s outside right now. It’s going OK, I guess. But our conversation’s a little boring. If I’m bored, doesn’t that mean she’s bored?

Not necessarily. What have you guys been talking about?

Classes. Movies. It’s me, isn’t it? I’m boring.

No you’re not! Don’t be silly. Maybe get a little more personal? Ask something revealing. Or tell her something revealing.

Like what?

I don’t know. What are you most afraid of?

I didn’t have to think about that one.

Fire.

You’re afraid of fire? I didn’t know that.

Not fire in general. A fire. My house burned down when I was a kid.

OMG. Was anyone hurt???

No, we were all fine. But if I have a nightmare that’s what it’s about.

Do you have a lot of nightmares?

Not anymore. None at all for the last year.

That’s good. I’m glad.

I wasn’t sure what to say next. Apparently Claire wasn’t, either.

After a moment I started typing again.

What are YOU most afraid of?

Several seconds ticked by, and I started to wonder if she might not answer.

Being alone.

That answer surprised me so much that I didn’t respond for a minute. Then:

You’re not alone. There are so many people in your life who
(my finger hovered over the L key before moving to the C)
care about you.

I know. It’s not rational. Fears aren’t, right? But that’s the reason I want to be single for a while. I don’t want to start seeing someone just so I won’t be alone. I don’t want to be afraid of being on my own. I want to conquer this fear.

You’re on your own tonight.

True. Or at least, I would be if you’d go back to your date. Good night, Will.

Good night.

I slid my phone into my pocket and leaned back in my chair.

Becky came back a minute or two later, just as the waiter brought our main courses. It was an Italian place and we’d both ordered pasta.

“Sorry about that,” she said as she took her seat.

Maybe this was a chance for us to get a little more personal.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

She shrugged. “More or less. My parents are divorced and they split game days. My dad was supposed to come tomorrow, but he wants to trade with my mom for next week instead. Sometimes they put me in the middle of their battles.”

She didn’t seem upset, but the scenario she’d described didn’t sound fun.

“That must be rough on you.”

She shrugged again. “I don’t let it get to me. It’s not something I can control, right? So I don’t take sides and I tell them to work it out between them.”

I was impressed. “Wow, that’s mature.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I guess I am. I mean, you’re my age, right? Nineteen?”

She grinned. “Actually, I’m twenty,” she said, swirling her fork in her pasta. “So maybe that explains it.”

“It can’t always have been easy though, right? The thing with your parents. How old were you when they divorced?”

“Sixteen. But it’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

She seemed serene about it all, and it occurred to me that she always seemed serene. Of course I didn’t know her very well. Maybe she got more animated the better you knew her.

Not that there was anything wrong with being serene.

We finished our main courses. We had dessert. I gave the waiter my card for the bill, and while we were waiting for him to come back Becky went to use the restroom.

The moment she was gone, I pulled out my phone.

I’m not feeling it.

What?

This date. Becky. I’m not feeling it. What do I tell her?

Why do you have to tell her anything? Thank her at the end of the night and don’t go out with her again.

But she’s expecting sex.

Expecting sex? WTF? What do you mean?

She told me her roommate won’t be home tonight “in case I want to stay over.”

Whoa. What did you say?

I mumbled something.