College Girl (13 page)

I got in line and glanced over at James
McDevitt. He
was
hot, no question
there. But in a very different way than Ryan was. Ryan was long and lean. This
guy was slightly broader, possibly a bit more muscular. It was hard to tell,
though, beneath the suit. After all, I
had
run my hands along the muscles in Ryan’s chest, so for a real comparison, I
would have to do the same thing to this guy. The thought made me laugh without
meaning to.

“What?” he asked with a smile.

I shook my head.

“Nothing.”

He gave me an odd look, and I
tried to rein in my crazy.

“What’s your poison?”

I swallowed.

“Um, a small latte.”

Which would be my second coffee
since I got to college.

“Nonfat?” he smirked.

“Uh, gross. No. Do you know what
they do to the milk to get it that way?”

My mom had an obsession with
everything low-calorie and nonfat, even after I told her about an article that
said nonfat milk was worse than guzzling gasoline. James McDevitt laughed and
ordered a triple espresso and a small latte.

“Decaf!” I blurted.

“No fun,” he grinned as he paid.

Considering he was wearing a watch
that was probably more expensive than my tuition, I decided not to bother
taking out my wallet. When we found a table, he pulled out my chair, and I
blushed.

“So how do you know my buddy?” he
asked.

“He didn’t tell you?”

He shrugged.

“Well, I was stripping at this
club off the freeway to pay for tuition, and Ryan came in one day.”

His eyebrows went up, and I
laughed at my ability to shock someone who looked as slick as he did.

“Sorry. No. Actually he was my
Calculus TA.”

“In undergrad?”

I blushed.

“I
am
an undergrad. A freshman.”

His eyebrows went up again. Then
he got a look on his face like he had just solved the fucking mystery of the
universe.

“So my friend Ryan Bennett has
been a very naughty boy, then,” he laughed.

I shook my head.

“We’re not sleeping together!”

“No?” he laughed.

I blushed even redder since I
hadn’t intended to say that so loud.

“And the text about picking up
your dress and shoes?

I shook my head.

“No way. Now it’s my turn for twenty
questions. First, why the hell do you have Ryan’s phone?”

He shrugged again in a way that
was really starting to get on my nerves.

“Well, your
buddy
didn’t seem too happy about it. If I heard him correctly, I
think the exact phrase was,” I lowered my voice, “
You fucking prick
.”

“Bennett does take life too
seriously.”

A chill went over me.

“Wait a second. You said Ryan
showed you a picture of me.
What
fucking picture?”

He smiled.

“The one he keeps in his
nightstand.”

Holy … shit. I looked around, suddenly
desperate to get off this crazy train before it went off the rails completely.

“Okay. Last question: why the hell
did you show up in the library?”

He shrugged again, and I resisted the
urge to strangle him. Then I decided that my first impression of him had been
dead on. He was an
Asshole
with a capital
fucking A.

“I guess I wanted to see what my
buddy’s been doing since his fiancée dumped him.”

What
his buddy’s been
doing
?
I opened my mouth to tell him what a dick he was. Then the rest of what he had
just said sank in. Fiancée.
Ryan’s
fiancée?
Who had dumped him? Oh. Shit. The pretty,
blonde, impeccably dressed woman I had seen
at
Ryan’s house
… as he was getting out of the shower. The one he had said
wasn’t
his girlfriend. I sucked in a
breath and stood up, sending the chair screeching behind me. Then I grabbed my
backpack from beneath the table and bolted out of the shop.

I tried to keep it together, only
crying a little bit on the way back to the dorms. It felt like I had just
stepped into one of those freaky, surreal horror shows on cable where everybody
is fucking crazy. Dammit.

All I had wanted was to sit in the
library for a few hours, get some studying done, and avoid Brit—and Ryan
Bennett. The way I had imagined it, the dress and shoes would have magically
disappeared while I was gone—along with the clawing sensation in my chest
that came from knowing I had confessed my love for my former Calculus TA, who
had just turned out to be my recently unengaged former Calculus TA who was
still sleeping with his ex.

Yuck.

Sliding my card at Mercer, I
walked into the first-floor lounge, planning to drop my backpack at my room
before going straight to Julie’s to cry and confess the whole fucked up
situation. Seeing someone sitting across the room in one of the grungy
fabric-covered chairs, I froze.

“Are you
trying
to fuck up my life?” I demanded.

Seeing a girl coming down the
stairs, I walked across the room to where Ryan was sitting so that I didn’t
have to yell at him from across the room. His blond hair was still wet from a
shower, and he looked perfect.
Horribly and terribly perfect.
I wanted to fucking kill him for looking so perfect.

“What did he say to you?” he
asked, unfazed by my fury.

“Oh, nothing. Just that the pretty
blonde who was at your house the other night while you were showering happened
to be your fiancée until she broke up with you. What? Did she find out you were
trying to fuck freshmen in the class you’re TA’ing?”

I stopped talking and pressed my
lips together. I sounded pathetic and petty. Worse. I sounded jealous. Usually
I was so good at shutting down and pretending I was okay when I wasn’t. The
last time I had seen my father I had done just that—pretended that it
hadn’t hurt that he had never bothered to show up when he said he would.

My question was: if I could do
that at age twelve, then why the fuck couldn’t I do it now?

Ryan

Alex’s eyes were red-rimmed and
puffy, and it was my fault. Again. I was going to kill James. All through
undergrad, I had watched him cause carnage, but not like this. This time, he
had crossed a line that he was never coming back from. I should have seen it
coming. I had told him last night to leave it the fuck alone after he had found
the picture of Alex. The problem was that
Leave
it the fuck alone
, in his head, had translated to
Game on
.

Then the fucker had switched
phones on me in SF.

In school, we had called him
Mayhem McDevitt, because he didn’t fucking care.
About
anything.
Like the time he had rented a Bentley with his father’s credit
card in sophomore year and then left it in the Tenderloin. He was like a
goddamn heat-seeking missile. To him, nothing was sacred. If he had thought I
gave a rat’s ass about him sleeping with my ex,
then
he would have called up Gretchen and tried to fuck her. Instead, he had found
the picture of Alex. From my reaction, he had known that she would be a source
of amusement. It was like he could tell when something—or
someone—really mattered, and, in his mind, it made the whole thing more
amusing when he fucked it up.

I should have cut James loose half
a decade ago. The problem was that I had never thought that it was malicious on
his part. I had given him a pass all these years, because I had assumed that he
just didn’t have that chip in his fucking head that told him other people might
actually value things.
Like relationships with other human
beings.
Empathy was a fucking mystery to James McDevitt.

Why was I friends with him? That
was what I was asking myself as I stared at Alex. I got up from the chair and
started walking toward her. When she backed up a step, I stopped. Shit. I
deserved that.

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

“Sorry I found out about your
fiancée? Sorry I told you I had feelings for you? Sorry you keep fucking up my
life? You know what? I was fine before I met you.” She shivered. “I mean, don’t
get me wrong. I’m glad you found me in the library that night, but I’m done.
And, please, in the future, keep your fucking sociopath friend away from me.”

She deflated.

“Damn. I don’t want to be an unhinged
bitch. … Just leave me alone.”

Her phone rang, and I watched as
she turned and dug around in her backpack.

“Hey!
Happy
V-day, sissy.
Your card’s
gonna
be late. No,
school’s just been crazy. Did you have any secret admirers this year? Three?
Wow. No, I’m fine. Tell Mom I’ll call her back later. I love you, ’kay?”

She hung up the phone and looked
at me. I tried to remember the last time I had seen her when she
hadn’t
been crying, which made me feel
like a colossal dick.

“I want you to come with me tomorrow,”
I heard myself say.

She shook her head in disbelief.

“Are you off your meds or
something?”

“I deserve that.”

Looking at things from her
perspective, I knew that I looked like a crazy asshole. Trying to fuck her
one second
, pretending to be chivalrous the next. Right now
I wished I could tell her that I loved her and that I was exactly what she
needed. But that would have been a lie. What I felt for her wasn’t love. It was
obsession. And I was the stone-cold opposite of what she needed.
Actually, no.
McDevitt held that title. I cracked my
knuckles thinking of my smarmy fuck of a friend swapping our phones and
actually making the effort to track down Alex just to piss me off.

“Please, Alex.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you. I enjoy your
company …”

I sounded like a complete ass, and
I was leaving out the most important part—that I was out of my mind
wanting to fuck her. Still, what I had just said was true. Spending time with
Alex—despite the raging, perpetual hard-on it left me with—had made
me feel more alive than I had in longer than I wanted to admit.

“You want me … to go as a friend?”
she asked in bewilderment, like I had just asked her to take over TA’ing for
Robertson’s lecture.

I nodded. I wanted
her
, so it wasn’t too far from the
actual truth. At least that’s how I was rationalizing it to myself. She frowned
and shook her head.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

She started chewing her lip.

“Please.”

I took a step toward her, and she
didn’t back up this time. She lifted her chin.

“You want to explain first why
you’ve got a picture of me that you showed to your psycho friend?”

“I pulled it off the wall at your
stalker’s place.”

The color drained from her face.

“Oh, fuck.”

“He had quite a collection of
pictures. I didn’t think you wanted me to leave yours there.”

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Will you go with me tomorrow?”

“What’s your fiancée going to
think?”

I ran my hand through my hair.
Damn, I should have told her about Gretchen. Why hadn’t I told her?

“Alex, Gretchen and I haven’t been
together for a long time.”

“That’s not what your friend made
it sound like.”

I shook my head.

“You can’t listen to anything
James says. He was just …”

“Being an asshole?” she laughed
humorlessly.

“That
is
what he’s best at.”

“And you’re friends with him,
why?” She shook her head. “Never mind. None of my business.”

I wished I could explain why I was
friends
with James, but I couldn’t even explain it to
myself. The good thing was that, judging from his past
behavior,
Alex was the last thing on his mind. She had provided enough entertainment, and
by now he was probably calling Gretchen—from my phone—to see if he
could bang my ex.

James wasn’t built for endurance
sports. He liked a fast thrill. And he deserved the
ass-kicking
I was going to dole out. Fucking asshole.

“Please, Alex.”

She quirked an
eyebrow.

“Professor Bennett, just curious,
but do you realize how many girls in this dorm—fuck, in this
university—would jump into bed with you in a heartbeat?”

I ground my teeth together, but
didn’t say anything.

“Well, I just thought you should
be aware of that,” she said blandly. “Because we are
not
sleeping together. Got it? Now, do you still think it’s a good
idea to take me as your date tomorrow?”

Fuck honesty.

“Yes.”

She shrugged.

“All right. But my roommate found
the dress, so you’ll have to take it back with you. Can I change at your house
tomorrow?”

I nodded, and she turned and
started walking toward the stairs.

“Alex, I’m sorry about James.”

She looked back at me.

“Yeah, so am I. Some people spend
their entire lives being dicks. Sucks for them.”

I followed Alex to her room and
watched as she opened the door. Then I stayed outside and waited. She came out
a few seconds later with the garment bag and the shoebox. Handing them to me,
she looked down.

“What time should I get to your house
tomorrow?” she asked.

I shook my head, knowing she
wouldn’t show.

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

She hesitated before nodding.

“Okay.”

I could see the regret in her
eyes, and I hated myself for it. Maybe I was a bigger dick than James. Not that
he would feel guilty for fucking with another person’s wellbeing, but at least
he didn’t have the attention span or the tenacity to cause deep wounds. When
Alex closed the door, I turned and walked down the stairs, thinking about the
miscreants living on the second floor of her dorm. My instinct had been to
protect Alex from their testosterone-fueled bullshit, but was I any better than
these assholes? As I walked out to the car, McDevitt’s phone rang. The incoming
call was from my cell number, of course.

“I’m surprised you’re still in
town,” I said flatly.

“Tetchy, aren’t we?” James
drawled.

“If you want your phone back, I’ll
be at the house in two minutes.”

Putting the phone back in my
pocket, I got in the car and pushed the speed limit all the way to the house.
When I pulled up, McDevitt was sitting on the front step with another six-pack
of beer, like bad déjà vu from last night.

“I never should have let you in my
house, you degenerate.”

Retrieving the dress and shoebox from
the backseat, I walked past him to the front door and unlocked it. When I got
to the couch, I set the stuff down and heard James walk in behind me.

“Pickin’ ’em kinda young these
days, aren’t ya? By the way, your little freshman told me you weren’t fucking
her. Were you waiting for a Yelp review?” He laughed. “You know, I could try
her out and report back if that would help you make up your mind.”

My hand clenched, and I swung around,
catching McDevitt on the corner of the mouth, sending him reeling backward. The
can of beer went flying, and I couldn’t get myself to give one shit that I
would be cleaning alcohol off my floor for a second time. It had been worth it
to see the nanosecond of shock on his smug fucking face the second before my
fist connected. He sat up and touched his jaw before laughing hysterically.

“Fuck, Bennett. What happened to
bro’s before ho’s?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah? You never got butt-hurt
about it before,” he said getting up.

“Well, I’m taking exception to it
now.”

“
Taking exception
? Did I just fucking wake up in a Brontë novel?”

“Give me the phone and get the
fuck out of my house.”

He took the phone out of his
pocket and threw it to me. I threw his, aiming for his fucking head.

“Shit. Clearly old age has made
you incapable of taking a fucking joke.”

“Actually, it’s made me appreciate
a true asshole when I see one.”

I turned to go let my dog in.

“Well, now that I know you’re
babysitting
the freshman, you mind if I
take Gretchen tomorrow?”

I looked back at him, and he
shrugged.

“Kathleen invited me.”

My … fucking …
mother.
Jesus. Of course she would invite McDevitt to the event
tomorrow. As far as she knew, James was a perfect gentleman, which was my
fault. I should have let her open the dildo package.

“If you and Gretchen want to fuck
each other over, feel free. But if you get near Alex again, I’ll break your
fucking head.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,
then,” he said cheerfully as I walked to the back.

I had to admit that one of
McDevitt’s few redeeming qualities was the fact that you could punch the guy in
the face and he wouldn’t take it all that personally, which was a good thing
considering how often people wanted to punch him in the face.

I let my dog in and went to the
safe to get my external drives. Then, sitting down at the kitchen table, I
exhaled. I waited to feel the least bit of guilt that I had convinced Alex Reed
to come with me tomorrow. Instead, a dark part of my soul was celebrating her
surrender.
Because what had started as a simple physical
reaction to her was something else now.
It was an obsession I didn’t
have much control over.

When Jess called a few hours later
to see if I wanted to come over to dinner, I smelled an intervention, so I made
up a lame excuse. I wasn’t up for Brenda’s good intentions. Now, if I had been
smart in the first place, I would have let her fix me up with one of her
friends. Most of Brenda’s friends likely worked for the university and were of
the appropriate age. In short, they were appropriate. Alex wasn’t. But looking
back at my history of not doing what I wanted, I decided that right now was the
perfect time to do something inappropriate.

For the next twenty-four hours, I
was virtuous. I worked, I took a run, and then I took Finn to the park. Then I
got up and did it again on Saturday, well aware that I would see Alex again in
a matter of hours. Before picking her up, I showered and got a dozen roses.
Stupid? Yes. But it had been grating on me that Alex’s first Valentine’s Day as
an adult had been spent getting harassed by a pair of adolescent
twenty-eight-year-olds. Given that McDevitt had the emotional intellect of a
twelve-year-old, at least he had an excuse. My excuse was—what?

I drove to Mercer, preparing
myself for the possibility that Alex had taken off somewhere for the night to
avoid me. Parking and getting out, I looked over and saw her at the front door,
already walking toward me. Her long hair was up, and she was wearing jeans and
a long-sleeved shirt. But her face was different.
Beautiful,
but different.
Her eyes were smoky and her pale skin was even more
flawless. She stopped and looked up at me.

“What?” she asked defensively.
“Did Julie make me look like I’m doing a burlesque show later on?”

I laughed and shook my head before
lifting the white roses like a peace offering.

Her eyes widened with shock as she
took the flowers.

“Thank you.”

She looked down as I opened the
car door for her, and as soon as she sat down, I closed the door and exhaled.
What the fuck was I doing? But the answer was obvious: I was doing exactly what
I wanted to. I walked around to the driver’s side and got in. Alex was staring
at her lap. Finally, she looked up and gave me a quavering smile. Driving out
of the parking lot, I felt like a fucking kidnapper making off with an innocent
young girl, and the really fucked up part was that it was true.

At the house, I got out and went
to open the gate at the side yard. Finn ran out, and Alex looked more thrilled
to see my dog than anything else. I walked up the stairs and opened the front
door, glaring at my dog when he as he sat down in front of her. Asshole dog.