Long After (Sometimes Never) (2 page)

2

Weekend Warriors

Chase

Twenty-seven
Months Ago

“What are you doing?” I ask, angling the Super Soaker upright against my shoulder.

Annie rolls her eyes and places her manicured hands on her thin hips. “Trying to get a tequila shot.” She throws one hand out, gesturing around her. “Just like everybody else.”

“Erm…no,” I say, turning her around and giving her back a little shove. “Move along.”

She whirls back quickly, her blonde ponytail nearly taking out my eye. “You’re giving them to everyone else.”

Now I roll my eyes as I maneuver around her. I pump the gun three times and spray into the waiting mouth of
a cute brunette. She wipes her chin, laughing and I grin. Annie steps in between me and the brunette, not allowing me to ignore her. My smile falters and I frown at her.

“Why not me?” s
he demands.

I throw Park a look, but he’s no help, too busy spraying a line of girls. I sigh. “Look…if Guy found out I shot tequila into your mouth with a Super Soaker…he’d kick my ass.” I shrug. “I’m not in the mood to get my ass kicked. I’m not a real big fan of pain.”

She drops her eyes, staring down at her shoes. “Guy won’t care,” she says quietly. I feel my brows draw together in confusion. Her step-brother will definitely take issue with this whether she believes it or not.

“He’ll care. He’ll be pissed and he’s still out of it over Hope and Mason moving. Just go get a Solo cup
and be on your merry little way.”

“You are such an asshole,” she mutters, but she pivots on her he
el, walking away, so I don’t bother to reply.

“Who’s next, ladies?” I call, pumping the gun again. Who knew college could be so damn fun?

Girls scurry over in front of me, all opening their mouths wide, and I can’t help but grin. College is fucking fantastic.

~*~

I plop down into a lawn chair next to Park and sigh. “I’m out.” I toss the water gun to the ground.

He smirks, lifting a bottle to his lips. “I ran out an hour ago.”

“Money well spent.”

He nods
his agreement. “But next time, I say we charge.”

That’s not a bad idea. We could charge a dollar a shot. Easy money. I tip my head to the side. “Does that mean we hav
e to shoot guys in the mouth? Because I don’t really see girls paying for it.”

Park shrugs. “Probably.”

“That doesn’t sound as fun,” I say.

“Nope.” He grins at me around a cigarette. “But profitable.”

I look past him, Annie’s blonde hair catching my attention. My eyes trail down her back and over the jeans hugging her ass. I glance back at Park to verify he hasn’t noticed where my attention went. He’s focused on the girl to his other side, so I turn back to Annie.

She’s openly flirting with a guy that definitely did the whole Boy Scout thing in grade school. I eye his khaki pants and polo shirt and laugh lightly under my breath. He hasn’t stopped talking yet and she hasn’t stopped bobbing her head, nodding along to whatever lame-ass story he’s spitting.

I laugh lightly under my breath. I can tell from here that she’s bored shitless. I also know she’ll play along all night to keep his interest.

I completely
want to go mess with her over this dude.

And I think I will. I can’t miss out on a golden opportunity like this.

I pick up an abandoned bottle and make my way over to Annie. I hook my arm around her shoulder. Her eyes widen and I smile.

“Hey
Sweetums
,” I drawl. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” I nod at the guy in front of her. “Who’s this?”

“This is Todd,” she says tightly.

“What’s up?” Todd holds up his palm in an awkward wave, confusion clouding his expression.

Squinting her eyes, Annie tries to duck out under my arm, but I squeeze her into my side. I touch my mouth to her ear. “Remember last weekend?” I whisper, reminding her of the little stunt she pulled.

She laughs for Boy Scout Todd’s sake and leans in to reply. “It was a joke. Let it go.”

“You told Ella Hamilton I have a bestiality fetish,” I state, my voice rising. Her gaze darts over to Todd who has backed up a step. “And,” I continue, “it didn’t help when I told her I thought her dog was cute.”

Annie bursts out laughing. She covers her mouth, shaking her head as she fights for composure.

“She canceled our date and told me I needed help. Payback is a bitch,” I finish.

I clap my hands, rubbing my palms together. “So anyway,” I say loudly. “Make sure you get checked. Shaving doesn’t get rid of them. That’s a myth. You need the special shampoo.” I nod at Todd and scratch my crotch for good measure. “See you later.”

“Uh…later,” Todd grunts.

I do an about face, winking at Annie’s horrified expression. This is going to come back to bite me in the ass, I’m sure, but right now, the payoff is just too good.

“I hate you, Chase,” Annie yells. “You’re such an asshole.”

I don’t turn around—I’m used to her little pet name for me. I just lift my hand above my head and wave. If I were keeping score, which I’m not, that’d be 18 me and 15 Annie, just since moving on campus.

It’s good to be king.

3

Unwritten

Annie

I’m still seething when I get to my
dorm room. I hate Chase. I hate him so much. Todd couldn’t even look at me after that spectacle.

I slam the door and kick my shoes across the room.
And then I go over and pick them up, placing them on the rack inside my closet.

I’d never admit this to the idi
ot (Chase—not Todd), but it was actually pretty funny. I mean, if he had done it to someone else, it would have been hilarious. Repulsive, but still funny. We’ve come a long way from “kick me” notes and tacks on chairs. Now he’s messing with my future.

I release a deep breath
and fall onto my bed. I really should do my bedtime cleansing routine. And I have to study. I groan loudly. Sometimes I wish I could make myself not care about anything. It would be so completely wonderful to just not give a shit. I don’t know how Chase does it. I don’t allow myself to envy him for too long, though. Chase is going nowhere fast and I shouldn’t admire that.

I push myself back up and grab my basket. It has everything a girl could ever need to beautify herself. If I was ever asked the question: If you were stranded on an island and could only bring three items, what would they be? This basket would be my number one.

I think a lot about questions like that. The “what if” questions. What would I do if there were a fire? Tornado? Flood? Mugging? I even contemplate the less likely what ifs. What if a zombie apocalypse took place tomorrow? World War III? Nuclear explosion? Sometimes I spend
so much
time on those questions that I wish I could just shut my brain off. Because I’m always trying to improve my answers. Always trying to identify what problems could arise and adjust my answers accordingly. It’s a curse. But if the world ever suffered a zombie attack, I think I’d outlive most of the people on this campus. Just saying.

After completing my nightly facial ritual, I drop onto my bed, and crack open my notes. I study every night.
Every
night. I don’t know how not to. I also try to study during any free time I find throughout the day. But I refuse to be like those girls who do nothing but stare at books. I make sure to include time for social interactions. How else will I find my future husband?

The door opens, causing
me to jump and my heart to stop beating for one startled moment. My roommate, Gretchen, tosses her messenger bag onto the desk without a glance in my direction before retreating right back out the door. Music starts up in the common room and I ignore it.

Gretchen is Chinese, and the exact opposite of every Asian stereotype I have ever hear
d. She’s barely passing her classes and she couldn’t care less. On top of that, she’s extremely unmotivated—unless it comes to partying. And the way she dresses, with her band tee shirts and pink streaked hair… She reminds me of Hope in a lot of ways. Something I thought would be comforting, but Gretchen despises me, so not so much.

She
bursts back into our room and tugs her shirt over her head. She throws the shirt in the direction of the clothes hamper in the corner, but it falls short by several feet. And she leaves it there. Did I mention that Gretchen is also messy? Because she is.

I try to concentrate on my notebook as she fishes through her drawers. I pull my legs up, blocking her from my sight and reread the
sentence I’ve already read several times.

“I have some people over,” Gretchen says.

I look up at her with a blank expression. I don’t know what she wants me to say to that. She has people over all the time—when she’s actually here.

She rolls her eyes as she pulls a tank top over her head. “I like one of them and if things go well, I’ll need the room.”

Gretchen can be kind of rude, too.

“Go to his place,” I say, not masking the irritation in my voice. I’m not a prude. Not by a long shot. I happen to see nothing wrong with sex
ual exploration and have no expectations when it comes to others. But this is my room, too. And I would never try to kick her out just to hook up with some guy. I find that ridiculously unreasonable on her part to even consider the idea.

“He doesn’t have a place,” she replies, her tone now matching mine. “He’s visiting his brother for the weekend.”

“So you don’t even know him?” I know I’m being judgmental, something I should probably work on, but she’s getting on my nerves. I don’t like when people mess with my routine.

“Actually,” she says
slowly, obviously trying to control her anger, “I’ve known him and his brother for years. Not that it’s any of your business, but we all went to school together.” She narrows her eyes as she picks up her iPod. “It’s not like you’re doing anything. And I never ask anything of you.”

This is true. Her not asking anything of me, I mean. But that’s because she never speaks to me. But I
am
doing something. “I’m studying.”

“You can skip studying for one night.”

I grimace and Gretchen rolls her eyes again. “You can study somewhere else,” she amends. “Don’t you have any friends that can put up with you for one night?”

That stings. The truth is I do
n’t have any friends that I would feel right about showing up at their door this late at night and asking to crash with them.

But I don’t give her the satisfaction of telling her this. I snap my notebook closed and sit up. “Fine. But you owe me.”

She snorts and crosses the room, heading out the door without another word.

I guess I’m having a sleepover with Guy. Yay.

~*~

I twist the strap of my over
night bag as I knock. Music filters through the door and I hope they heard me. I also hope they aren’t having a party, too. I can handle the music—I spent the last four years of my life with Guy, Chase, and Park who are all about music. And then when my foster sister, Hope, came to live with us, they started their band and the house was always full of guitar riffs and drumbeats. It’s just background noise to me now. But I didn’t reapply my full make-up, just the basics, because I was anticipating studying in a corner and going to bed shortly. A party means people. People mean I need to make myself more presentable.

I blink in
surprise as the door opens and I’m met with darkness. Guy steps into the light streaming in behind me. He squints at my face before pulling me inside and closing the door quickly.

“Hid
e and Seek in the dark,” he whispers. “Chase is it.” He pushes me forward and then I have no idea where he is. Or where I am.

I’m frozen in place, blinded by the comple
te lack of light. I wait, hoping my eyes will adjust, but as the seconds tick by, I realize that’s not going to happen. This isn’t my first game of Hide and Seek in the dark. We used to play in the basement back home. It was Mom and Alec’s way of getting us to clean up. I quit playing years ago since I hate losing, but I’m well acquainted with the rules.

I slide one foot then the
other, moving slowly in the direction I think the couch is in. When my shins hit cushion, I smile and drop my bag. Now I just need to find a good place to wait this out.

I turn around and slam into a hard chest. Hands slide up my arms and then back down. “What the fuck?” Chase says. His hands keep roaming and as they slip
onto my sides, fingers pressing into my ribcage, I shove him back.

I hear his quick intake of breath, followed by the scuffle of feet over carpeting, and finally the loud crash of breaking glass.

Oh, my God.

I didn’t mean to do all tha
t.