“Sure you weren’t.” His smile is short and mysterious as hell, it makes my body burn.
Clearing my throat, I arch a brow. “Anyway. You do this all the time?”
“What’s that?” He takes another sip of his juice.
“Come to frat houses on the weekends? Awfully cliché, wouldn’t you say?”
“I think that’s the pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you?”
He had a point, I laugh. “Whatever.”
“Nah.” He shifts again, but this time he’s moving away from me and I don’t like that. Yeah, I know, it makes me one of those females that just can’t make up their minds, but I can no longer deny my attraction to him, especially when he’s trying to do exactly what I’ve asked and just be friends. It only makes him more sexy.
“This is Alex’s thing. I just come with him to keep him honest.”
“Then what do you usually like to do on the weekends?”
His brows gather as he seems to consider it. “I don’t know, you mean besides watching porn?”
I stick my tongue out and he clamps down on the edge of his lip, rolling it between his teeth in a way that makes me hot and twitchy. This man is dangerous and I want him. I mean, I really do. I want to drag him up the stairs, find a room and not come out until morning.
Licking my lips, I cross my legs.
He grins. “I watch movies, read--”
“You read?”
Narrowing his eyes, as if not sure whether I’ve just insulted him or not he pauses and I shake my head. “That’s not what I mean, I just meant, it’s nice to find a guy who admits to that. Most guys don’t. And if they do, it’s like some shameful secret.”
Chuckling, he nods. “I guess. I’m kind of into the classics. War and Peace, A tale of two cities, started reading Moby Dick last night. Call me Ishmael.”
Not at all what I’d expected. I hate judging books by their covers, but Ryan seems more like this guy. The one sitting in a frat house on a Saturday night, the one drinking beers and sleeping with as many women as possible. And maybe he’s just blowing smoke up my butt, but I don’t really believe that because he knows he’s got nothing to gain with me.
I’m off limits, so maybe this is the real him and I’ve had him all wrong.
He must have noticed my look, because he smirks. “Yeah, not what you expected, huh?”
“You know it’s really annoying when you read my mind.”
He laughs and I can’t help but respond. He has a nice one, sexy… it shivers across my body and makes my breasts feel full and achy.
“At least you’re honest.” Tipping his cup, he takes another sip.
“Javier had fun yesterday.”
“Good. That’s good.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize again, to ask him if maybe we can try to be friends again and wipe the slate clean of last night, but the girl who’d been with him earlier picks that moment to return, plopping down onto his lap and circling his neck with her arm. His hand lands on her knee, a familiar looking gesture, and I hate it.
I can’t stop glaring at his hand, wishing he’d move it, wishing she’d get off him. Blinking my eyes closed, I tell myself this is for the best, but that thought hurts like hell. For a second I’d forgotten my own rules.
Thought I could actually be friends with him. Maybe with another guy, but not Ryan, because Ryan’s too dangerous, makes me feel scary, unbelievable things. He’s the fire that consumes, will shatter all my defenses. I don’t know how I know that, I just do.
The girl’s whispering in his ear again, pressing her body tight to his (like she’s done it before and maybe she has) and I want to vomit as the beer takes that moment to remind drinking on an empty stomach is a bad idea. Ryan though, he’s looking at me with a question in his eyes.
But I can’t talk, not with that girl sitting there looking all adorable and needy, so I lift my cup and jiggle it.
“Need a refill.”
He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t stop me and I don’t look back, because I feel like an idiot and a fool. Blinking back the tears and hoping I don’t do something as stupid like cry about a guy I’m not dating and never will making out with some blond bimbo right in front of me, Ryan can touch whoever he wants.
Working myself up to a really good pity party, I don’t see Frankie until he’s right in front of me.
He holds the spout of the kegger out to me. “Hey sexy. Been watching you tonight,” his hot breath fans the shell of my ear.
Then he claps his large hand on my ass and yanks me into him, kissing me.
And I should push him back, tell him get a life, but I’m raw and insecure and know Ryan’s watching and somewhere ugly inside me I want to know he’s as jealous as I am.
So I kiss Frankie back.
It isn’t long or pleasant, he’s drunk off his ass and the fumes are making me dizzy, but I make it look as good as I can, even going so far as to thread my fingers through his slick curls. A shivery moan spills from his lips and that sound is like a slap in the face, I push him back.
Stumbling, his lashes flutter and a breathless whimper whooshes from his lungs as he laughs. And the awful realization is this, I’ve become just another notch in his belt.
Claps and jeers surround us and all I want to do is disappear.
I’m not this girl-- this petty, ugly girl who does things to make guys jealous. It’s mean and selfish. I feel his stare on me, know if I look I’ll see the questions, maybe even the hurt.
Why did I do that?
Ashamed of myself, I wipe my mouth and toss the cup into the garbage, deciding to wait for Monique outside.
It takes another thirty minutes before she finally comes out looking for me, Ryan doesn’t follow and I know I’ve blown it.
That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever done and in this moment, I hate myself.
***
Monday morning I have an economics class. It’s boring as hell and honestly I don’t know why I signed up for it, thought it would be an easy credit. Not. This class has been a lesson in humility. Thank God the term is almost over, summer break is just days away. All I have to do is focus a little longer and then the nightmare is over. Though the finals are gonna blow, I’m just hoping to get out of here with a ‘B’.
Sitting in my seat, I’m staring at the slightly balding but still kind of adorable Professor Simmons talk about the theory of capitalism and know I’m in deep trouble because I can’t focus.
I hate to admit this, but he sounds like one of those peanuts characters from Charley Brown,
“Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah…”
I groan, slumping in my seat, knowing I’ll have to read the book later tonight. My neighbor, who I don’t know all that well but know his name is Zander, was nice enough to tell me at the start of class that I looked like shit this morning.
Nice.
Considering he’s the Mohawk, tatted Goth, it sorta means something when he thinks you look bad. I just smiled and thanked him politely, before rolling my eyes and giving him my shoulder even though I know he’s right.
This morning I’d not looked my best, I’d done what I could, but you can only do so much when the bags under the eyes are dark and heavy. At least I’d washed my hair last night. But I hadn’t gotten a chance to straighten it, Javi and I had been running late. I’d had just enough time to knot it into a messy bun, toss on a pair of bright green skinny jeans, a gray belly shirt that somehow had a bright blue paint mark on the hem in the size of a small thumb (Javi and his finger painting) and brushed my teeth.
At least I smelled clean, small consolation though it was.
I lean toward Terra and whisper, “Could I get a copy of your notes after class?”
She frowns her furry thick brows at me. Terra is annoyingly smart, and she knows it. Which is even more obnoxious, but I need her notes so I try to charm her with a big, bright smile.
“You should be paying attention.” She casts me a dirty look and I nod, because I know she’s right. Annoying or not.
“I know. I just can’t, okay. Can I just get your notes later, please?” I don’t typically resort to pleading, but I’m afraid without a thorough set of notes I’m going to tank the final on Wednesday.
Something on my face must have softened her, either the pitiful pout, the huge eyes, or maybe the thread of shamelessness in my voice, because she exhales loudly and grunts.
Which I assume has to be a yes.
I hope.
I try, I really do, to focus through the last twenty minutes of class, but I can’t. Because last night I’d had a bad one. I’d dreamt of Ryan again, covered in his blood, looking at me with deep blue eyes and pleading for me to save him. To rescue him.
I’d woken up covered in sheen of sweat, heart racing so hard I’d felt it in the back of my throat. It’d been like that all night, every time I closed my eyes, anytime the dreams came, they were always of him and always the same thing:
Save me, Lili
…
I’m not one who thinks there’s some hidden meaning behind a dream, practical to a fault my father always used to say. But I can’t help but wonder if what I did Saturday is why I’m being plagued this way, maybe it’s God, or fate, or karma telling me I screwed up big and I need to find him and apologize.
But then shame creeps in there, and I hate the thought of facing him… of telling him ‘I’m sorry, Ryan, that was really stupid, I’m really stupid sometimes because you’re making me feel crazy, impetuous things that I don’t want to feel’. I have his number, I could always just text him, or call even. Get it over with.
I rub my temple, trying to soothe the thread of pain that’s been lancing through my skull since Saturday night.
But I can’t, because an apology deserves to be done face to face. Whether Ryan even wants anything with me anymore, and that’s a big if at this point, it doesn’t matter, he at least deserves the courtesy of an apology.
Maybe once I do it, I’ll be able to stop obsessing about this. About him. Wondering if I’d hurt him that night, wondering if he’d slept with bimbo. There can never be anything between us, just the fact that I’m going nuts proves that. I can’t handle more distractions, my life is hard enough as it is, I can’t bring this in too.
I come to that conclusion the second class is over, glancing at my sheet of doodles and scribbles, I groan.
No, I definitely can’t bring Ryan into my life, I won’t survive it.
Tessa shoves sheets under my nose. “Here, I won’t need them anyway.”
When she lets them go, they scatter to the floor. She doesn’t try to help me pick them up. In fact, no one does.
She flounces out of her seat, and as she walks away, she doesn’t look back. Looking at the scattered notes on my desk and floor I can’t help but wonder if this is a metaphor for my life. I’m the last one out of class and only have thirty minutes between classes. But I know if I don’t do this right now, I’ll talk myself out of it again.
Marching to Chai, I clutch the back pack straps in my fist and run through what I’ll say. I have no clue if he’ll even be there, but odds are good because I know Alex is. Not that I’m stalking Alex’s work schedule… okay, so maybe a little. But he makes the best drinks, and he knows what I like.
Stopping at the crosswalk, my heart threatening to choke me, I stare at the brightly stenciled Chai Time sign.
“Ryan, I’m sorry,” I mutter, stuttering at first. The next time I repeat it, I get through it without tripping over my tongue. “I’m an ass. That wasn’t fair. I really do want to be friends.”
A guy wearing ear buds glances at me, his brows dip when he realizes I really am talking to myself and not to a Bluetooth.
Blushing, I clamp my lips shut as he takes a step away.
Then the little white walk icon flashes and just as I’m getting ready to walk across the street, the door opens and my stomach bottoms out.
It’s Ryan.
He’s dressed in a pair of distressed jeans that hug his slim hips in a way that makes my breathing hard, a white shirt that clings and shows off his finely chiseled chest and abs and a dark pair of sunglasses. Brushing a strand of wavy hair out of his face, he leans against the brick face wall and tilts his head up to the sun.