Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (5 page)

"I dare to venture the picture you're painting isn't too far from the truth." She shakes her head as she smiles.

I've only known her four hours, but I can already tell Veronica Parker and I are going to be the best of friends. You know how it is when you meet a kindred spirit. Within minutes, everything just clicks. I know I've gotten lucky. I've heard horror stories about people going off to college and having a roommate who makes their year a living hell. I have a feeling I've dodged a bullet, and I am very thankful.

We've already ordered our burgers, and after drinking two iced teas my bladder is screaming. Roni must read the desperate look in my eyes, because she turns and points to the corner furthest from where we're seated. After fighting my way through a throng of bar patrons, I wait in a short line to do my business. As I wash my hands I take a good look in the mirror. Rather than fight with my hair this morning, I'd pulled it into a quick braid that now hangs over one shoulder. My cheeks are flushed, but I figure it's due to the stuffiness of the room. I pull a lip balm from the pocket of my jean shorts and liberally apply it to my dry lips. Rubbing them together, I give my appearance a quick nod and turn to fight the crowd.

The number of bodies in the small space has increased. As I walk back to where Roni is waiting, I'm jostled around. Just as I come to a clearing, I am knocked backwards and end up falling into an unsuspecting customer. My hands flail out and grasp the first thing they come in contact with, which happens to be a very lean body.

"I am so sorry." The words are out of my mouth before I even look up to see whom I've just manhandled. Amber eyes pierce straight through me as recognition sets in for both of us, and a smirk fills his handsome face.

"Whoa, Dimples. Better lay off the sauce." The playful catch in his voice catches me off guard, and it's the first time he's actually looked me in the eyes since Scotty interrupted what I affectionately refer to as
what could have been
. I want to be angry with him for ignoring me, but he had to go and give me a nickname. And not just any nickname. For some reason, this one feels personal. By looking at us you would never guess he's seen me before, but I know differently, and I curse my body for its traitorous response to his charming good looks. Using very capable hands, he rights me to standing and checks me over. "You okay? You didn't hurt yourself when you crashed into me, did you?" I can tell by the gleam in his eyes he's drunk, and for a few seconds we share an intense moment. One that tells me he's thinking the same thing I'm thinking. I blink up at him, unable to tear my eyes away.

I'm captivated by his presence. The last time I was in his arms I hadn't taken time to fully appreciate his beauty. That's most likely because I was distracted by his nakedness, but even still, how I didn't notice until now completely baffles me. The photos I studied fail to do him justice. His dark hair is longer on top and shorter on the sides. It looks as if he's used hair product to tame the longer pieces, but one rebellious strand has broken free and falls over his right eye. I want so badly to reach up and run my fingers through his hair under the guise of tucking it back in place, but I refrain. His full lips part, and he cracks a smile when he realizes I'm still staring.

"N-no, I'm fine." I smile through my nervousness and blow out the breath I've been holding. "How have you been? I'll bet you're glad to have your bed back. Though I have to admit I was sad to leave it." The minute the words are out, I wish I could take them back.

He's about to respond when a redhead approaches and wraps her hands possessively around his forearm. My eyes narrow in on her hand, and it's all I can do not to shout
Back off bitch. He's mine!
But sadly, that's not the case.

"Brantley, baby, who is this?"
Baby?
Is this the type of girl he goes for? With her super skinny jeans, heavy black eyeliner, and four-inch stiletto heels, she looks every bit the part of hooker-wanna-be. She stares coolly, sizing me up as if I may be looking to take away her man.

"Oh, this one here is Rivers' kid sister, Cassie." He reaches over and has the nerve to pat me on the top of my head like I'm a dog. If looks could kill, he would disintegrate right now. Much to my embarrassment, that's not how this cruel world operates. The redhead gives a smug smile of victory and titters with laughter.

"I wondered when they started allowing high school kids in here." And just like that, her attention is focused solely on the object of her desire. They both turn and walk away, dismissing me as if I were never there.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't watch him go, silently willing him to look my way one last time. But he never does.

BRANTLEY

It's only eleven in the morning, and it's already been a bitch of a day. Thanks to some of the guys partying too hard on Saturday, Coach put the entire team through the ringer at practice, and my whole body hurts. Hell, even my hair hurts.

I cut across campus in a daze, functioning on autopilot, when I hear someone calling my name.

"Brantley!" I turn and find a blonde frantically waving her arms to get my attention. We hooked up once after the team suffered a loss during our sophomore year, and she's been hounding me ever since. Don't get me wrong, she may be a nice girl, but once the alcohol wore off, I realized we had nothing in common. She's overly made up, fake in every sense of the word, and only wears designer fashions. I grew up in Colorado. If I'm not in uniform, you'll likely find me in a pair of Timberlands and jeans.

It takes everything I have not to pretend I don't hear her and keep walking. Instead, I stop and wait for her to catch up, because my mom raised a gentleman. "Hey, Summer. How've you been?"

"Boy, you sure know how to make a girl work for it." She gives my arm a playful smack. "So, are you going to Jake's party next month?"

"Uh, I wasn't planning on it. I guess it depends on my schedule. It's his birthday, right?" I ease my arm from her grasp and grip the back of my neck.

"Oh, yeah, and it's going to be out of control. You simply
have
to go. Parties just aren't the same when you're not there." She curls her overly glossed lips down in a pout while batting her lashes. While I'm sure this look leaves many guys falling at her feet, I couldn't be less interested if I tried.

"I'll consider it," I lie and turn to make my escape.

"Wait! I was wondering if you wanted to grab a cup of coffee. I have an hour to kill before my next class."

I've just opened my mouth to politely decline when my phone vibrates, saving me from hurting her feelings.

"Sorry, Summer. I have to answer this. Maybe some other time." I hurry away while opening the text.

Unknown: Hey there, B. Was hoping u might have time 2 discuss tutoring.

Me: Umm... Who's this, and how'd u get my #?

Unknown: Oh, this is Ca

Me: Don't know anyone by that name.

Unknown: Oops. This is Candy. I got your # off a study sheet.

Candy? Candy? I stop walking and rack my brain to remember if I know anyone by that name and decide it's a definite no. Then I begin drumming up an image of Candy. With a name like that, I can probably assume she's another member of the 'fake' club. And I'm fairly certain she probably has bubble gum pink hair. Probably not a fair assumption, but I'm thinking it's a safe bet.

Me: Sorry, Candy. Don't think I can help.

Her: Why not?

Me: Busy playing hockey.

Her: But ur good at calculus?

For crying out loud. This chick obviously can't take a hint. I aced calculus last year. Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean I feel like helping someone who isn't.

Me: Well, yeah, but that's not the point.

Her: It is for me. There's a test next Friday I NEED 2 pass. After that, ur in the clear.

Me: That's where ur wrong. I'm already in the clear.

Her: So... No?

Me: Afraid so.

Her: Bummer. I was hoping 2 pass that test.

Me: Ask someone else.

Her: No can do, B-man. I heard ur the best, and that's what I want.

Me: What can I say? I am pretty good.

Her: See! This is why I need u. Come on, B. Just a few hours of your time. I promise 2 make it worth your while.

Me: Did u just proposition me?

Her: What? God no! I just meant I'd buy all the coffee u can drink.

Me: Too bad. I was almost ready 2 cave. Wish I could help...

Her: If u change your mind, I'll be the crying blonde hanging out at Comet.

Me: Ur funny. I like that. Nice chatting with u.

Her: U 2 B. Hope we can meet sometime and not talk math.

Me: Sure. Maybe. Well, bye.

I stare down at my phone and laugh. I'm beginning to think I may have judged Candy too hastily. She seemed... Well... She seemed sweet.

CASSIE

We're only three weeks into the first semester and I'm already struggling. In my haste to get enrolled, I'd piled on way too many tough credits. Music composition, calculus, American government. Ugh! Could my schedule get any worse? The only bright spot, other than comp class, is the psychology class I share with Brantley. We're surrounded by two hundred students, but there was no mistaking when he sauntered through the door on our first day of class. I don't believe he's even aware we're in the same class, but it doesn't surprise me. He's done everything he can to avoid running into me. On the few occasions I've stopped by Scott's to say hello, Brantley's either been out, or has chosen to remain hidden upstairs. So, each day I sit in the same seat, safely tucked between two football players, which is where I am today.

I'm not going to lie. Running into him at the bar had shaken me up. Just the feel of his body under my hands made me weak in the knees. Hell, just touching him would have been enough to make my head spin, but add that I've previously kissed him
and
seen him completely naked, and I turned into a complete mess. Then that redhead had to go and ruin everything. I don't know who she is, but the way he treated me after she joined us left me feeling humiliated.

When the psych lecture is over, I hold back and scowl as I look over my calculus notes. I'm really struggling in this class, and there's a test a week from Friday I
really
need to pass. I swear this professor is out to make my life a living hell. The class has only met six times, and we've already had two quizzes, both of which I nearly failed.

Then last week when I'd approached him about study groups, he'd merely pointed to a row of clipboards spread out along the wall. Seven clipboards contained spreadsheets listing students who were looking to join a study group. One clipboard in particular also listed contact information of students who offered tutoring. Since my situation required individual attention, I'd ignored the groups and gone straight for the tutoring, skimming the list until I came to a name I recognized.

B. Cage 719-688-5535

I texted him last Friday with the intention of telling him who I was, but I remembered how he acted at the bar and panicked. I figured he would totally blow me off. So I told him my name was Candy, and he blew me off anyway. I wasn't sure what hurt more, the fact I would probably fail again, or that he wouldn't have anything to do with me. All I want is five minutes of his time to tell him I'm sorry for the way I acted that morning. I'd humiliated myself and alienated him, all in the same moment.

I'm still holding my notes when I look up and see him walking up the aisle. He's talking with a fellow hockey player, but his gaze meets mine as he draws near. Rather than ignore me, he lifts his hand in a small wave as he passes, leaving me with a glimmer of hope he doesn't hate me as much as I fear.

Much to my relief, when I make it to calculus I find out Professor Briggs is ill and had to leave early. Class has been cancelled, but there's a note written on the whiteboard. STUDY FOR NEXT FRIDAY'S TEST.

***

When I open the door to my room I'm immediately deafened by a loud scream and a grunt as two bodies scramble for cover on Roni's side of the room.

"Sorry," I cover my eyes, "I'm leaving. Go back to whatever it is you were doing." My chest pounds as I slam the door and bolt down the hall with a hand covering my mouth. I shove open the exterior door and double over in laughter.

Ohmygod. I just caught my roommate riding some guy's di
—

My thoughts are cut off when my phone vibrates with a text, and I do a happy dance when I see whom it's from. It's been three days since I first approached him, and to be honest, I've been on pins and needles, wondering if he would reach out to me.

Him: How's the studying?

My first inclination is to play it cool. I can't have him thinking I've been holding my breath, waiting for him to text me. Which I totally have. After our first conversation, I began second-guessing my decision to lie. I really hadn't thought it through very well. If he does agree to meet up, what will he say when Cassie Rivers shows up instead of Candy?

Me: I'm sorry. Who's this?

I'm still laughing when I press send. Within seconds, the three little dots appear and I wait for his response.

Him: Umm... It's B. U know, calculus god and all-around nice guy.

Me: Oh, yeah. I remember. Calculus god? Maybe. Nice guy? Jury's still out, B-Man.

Him: Now u doubt me? I have 2 say, I'm hurt.

Me: Not at all. I'm stating a fact. U haven't graced me with ur presence, ergo, I have nothing but a few texts 2 support your claim.

Him: Fair enough. U ready for this test?

Me: Not even close. But not for lack of trying. I shouldn't have signed up for this class.

Him: Ah, the curse 2 prove u can do it all. Been there.