Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (8 page)

Jenna takes care of him the rest of the time before he pays his bill and leaves without so much as a goodbye. I know I’m stupid to feel a little hurt, but I do.

“You totally like him.” Jenna snickers in my ear as she wipes the counter off.

“He’s nice.” I admit quietly, feeling my cheeks heat up. “He’s kind of cute.” Cute isn’t how I would describe the man I get naked with in my dreams.

“Oh my God, listen to you! I swear to God, I’m giving you a week. If you don’t let him know you’re interested, I’m going for it!” she warns.

“Do whatever you want. I don’t have time to date anyone.” The sad truth of my life hits like a wrecking ball. Even if I were interested in dating someone, no man goes to the back of the store to rummage through the damaged goods. They go to the top of the line where the name brands are. You get what you pay for, don’t you?

“Who said anything about dating?” Jenna’s backside juts out as she starts to twerkand gyrate with her hands raised high in the air.

“Cut it out, Jenna!” Lenny yells through the window.

“Yeah, Jenna! Cut it out!” I agree, sticking my tongue out at her. But the thought of running my hands over his sweaty chest has, on more than one occasion, sent me on a wild and frenzy search to extinguish the buzzing flesh between my legs.

“FOR THOSE OF
you starting your second internship next semester, you should plan to devote much of your free time to reading and getting yourself acquainted with your cases. This is not to be taken lightly. For many of you, this may be the only chance you get to prove yourselves.” David’s voice floats through the lecture hall to the class of twenty two students, but I know he is focused on me. Message is received, David— loud and clear.

“What crawled up his ass?” Simon asks as he slings his messenger bag around his body.

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him much this week.”

The look Simon gives me is one of incredulity; he knows how close David and I used to be. “You’re so full of shit.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, okay…Goldilocks.” With quick fingers, Simon musses my hair and teases me, calling me by my childhood nickname.

“Jerk!” I slap his hand away, laughing at the memory of us fighting as kids.

“Remy, I need to see you in my office,” David’s stern words wipe the smile from my face.

I glance up at him and realize that it’s not a request. “Sure. Give me a few minutes.”

David acknowledges Simon with a brief nod and then leaves the large room. The air temperature just dropped to sub-zero freezing.

“You’re in trouble,” Simon sings through a chuckle. “Better you than me.”

“Shut up,” I bump into his shoulder, causing him to lose his footing and knock into Magda. The Indian girl huffs loudly, rolls her eyes and once again calls him an asshole as she bends to pick up her strewn papers.

“Sorry, Magda,” I apologize to her.

“Whatever. I don’t understand how you two are in this program. You don’t take anything seriously. I’m sure your Mommy and Daddy are enjoying seeing their money go to waste. How much did they pay for your internship?”

“What did you say?” I seethe as my eyes bulge and then narrow at her ignorant comment.

“I saw the list. It appears that you both are applying for the best internships in Boston. I wonder how that happened.” She breezes past me before I have a chance to defend myself or correct her obvious misinterpretation of who I am.

“Leave it alone, Rem.”

“Leave it alone? She basically called me a spoiled brat who lives off of my parents’ money!”

My phone signals an incoming text.

“That’s not too far from the truth, babe.” Simon replies as I reach into my back pocket for my phone.

“Oh, yes, that right! I forgot what a charmed life I’ve lived. See you later, asshole.” I blow a kiss in his direction before I walk toward the building where David’s office is.

I raise my hand to knock on the heavy wooden door that’s slightly ajar, but decide to wait when I hear whispered voices.

“We will soon. I promise.”

“Thank you,” a woman’s voice purrs.

When I realize the sound of their footsteps are coming closer, I retreat quickly and sit in the metal folding chair.

A woman steps through the door and smiles tightly at me. “Remy.”

I rise quickly and stand to greet her. I don’t know who she is; I’m surprised she knows my name. “Hi,” I squeak awkwardly to the dark-skinned beautiful and statuesque woman who exudes an aura of confidence and elegance.

David stands beside her and places a hand on her back. “Remy. This is Dr. Chanel Taylor. Chanel, this is Remy Scott.”

A long, well-manicured hand extends, offering a firm grip when I accept it. I suddenly feel self-conscious about my short unpainted nails. I pull my eyes from our clasped hands to find a smile across her face.

“Hi, Dr. Taylor.”

“Please call me Chanel. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

I grin and flash my eyes to David playfully. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

“He speaks very highly of you.”

I turn my eyes away to hide the moment of embarrassment. Some people accept compliments easily; I do not. The compliments I usually garner are about my body, particularly my ass and boobs. “Thank you.” I meet her inquisitive eyes again.

“Well, I’ll leave you two alone. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

Chanel smiles warmly and leans in to kiss David’s cheek. There is no denying the fact that something is going on between them. That kiss was no friendly kiss goodbye; it was a promise of things to come. I stand there awkwardly, feeling like a third wheel until she nods, turns and walks down the long corridor into her own office.

I close the door to David’s office and follow him to the leather couch that sits in front of a huge bookcase filled with rows and rows of books. I take a moment to appreciate his calm yet confident demeanor as he sits and crosses his legs. With a head full of jet black hair, the subtle hint of grey around his temples is the only sign of his age. He’s maintained his body, keeping it fit and trim like he always has.

I want so much to ask him about Chanel and the reason behind the slight smirk on his face, but when we speak at the same time, his tone is more reserved and I immediately realize it’s business as usual.

“So, Remy, tell me. How are things this week?” The way in which he asks softly, without the hint of judgment, reminds me of a therapist.

I shrug, annoyed at his question and his tone. “They’re okay. I’m managing.”

Hazel eyes behind square- framed glasses see through my lie. “What can I do to help?”

I scrub my hands over my face and freeze immediately when I realize that I’ve just rubbed my mascara-covered lashes. “Goddammit.”

Here comes the judgment at my slight use of a vulgar word. “Sweetheart, don’t take God’s name in vain and don’t use foul language. You’re too beautiful to use those words. Tell me, what can I do for you?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “You do realize I’m not a child, don’t you? And for the record, ‘Goddammit’ hardly qualifies as a curse.”

“It is to God. And I’m well aware that you’re an adult, but it doesn’t change the fact that I will always look out for you or reprimand you when you act like a child.” I suppress the chuckle that is trapped in my mouth. Reprimand me? His formality drives me crazy sometimes, but that’s just his way. It’s who he is.

“So tell me. What can I do to help you?”

“Wanna give me an A on my paper? How about you give me a million dollars? I know, you could give me a new mother or maybe a father who gives a shit about me, or even better yet, how about a new life!” The cynicism is clear in my voice even through my feigned laughter.

He bristles at my outburst. “Remington, language!” He leans forward until he has my full attention. “Listen to me. You can do this. I know you can. For as long as I’ve known you, you have been a fighter not a quitter. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

I look up and meet his serious gaze. Hazel eyes are filled with deep care and concern. I exhale slowly and close my eyes because I don’t want to see the disappointment that I’ve seen so many times before. Disappointment for words of deceit. Disappointment for poor choices. Disappointment for empty promises. And I know if I were completely honest with him, he wouldn’t understand. The world is not black and white as he thinks it is; there are so many shades of grey. If I could just tell David what I’m doing and the reason for it, I know he would argue that there has to be another way. Lord knows I don’t want to keep doing what I’m doing, but right now, I don’t really have much of a choice.

David slides his hand over mine, comforting me. “Take it one day at a time and you’ll be fine. I promise.”

I don’t want to take it one day at a time. I don’t want to be fine. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the façade.

“How’s your mother?” David glances at the clock as he asks gingerly, knowing this is a sore subject.

My silent, direct look indicating this conversation is now over is well understood.

We spend the rest of our time discussing my schedule for next semester.I take the manila folder when he offers it.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“The internship we talked about.” The look on his face is serious and grave. This internship is non-negotiable- a done deal. “They’ve inquired about you several times. You just need to complete the application and sign on the dotted line.”

“David,” I sigh. “I don’t know…”

“It’s one of the best internships in Boston.”

“I know, but…what about Simon?”

“What about him?” he asks as his forehead scrunches. “He’s applying for a different one.”

“I know that.” I nod, confirming what I’ve known for the last week. “Is everything okay with you guys? Things seem…strained.”

The old grandfather clock in the far corner of his office chimes four times. “I’ve got to get to my next lecture.” He searches my face before standing to gather his leather briefcase. “Come out to the house some weekend for dinner. I miss you.”

I nod. “Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime. You know that.” He smiles, pulling me close for a side hug as we walk to the door.

I thank the man who is not only my professor and my academic advisor but also my friend. There was a time in my life I thought and really hoped he might be more.

THE QUIET WALK
to my bike is disturbed by a group of kids playing Frisbee on the open area under the lone oak tree. I watch in awe as their bodies turn at the waist and flick the disc with such force and accuracy. The only person I recognize is Darion, a big guy who was in my Humanities class last semester. The Frisbee flies in his direction and he makes a mad dash combined with a leap before he dives onto the soft grass, preventing it from making contact. Dumb jock. He always seemed to be more concerned with the next party than with actually learning. I’m sure the star football player doesn’t pay a red cent to go here. My phone chirps and I see my best friend’s name.

Jenna: He left something for you.

Me: Who?

Jenna: Thor.

I wonder immediately what’s wrong with her when I read the text. I send back a quick response. “Thor? What are you talking about? Who’s Thor?”

Jenna: Shane! He looks like Thor but with shorter hair.

Me: I have no idea who or what you’re talking about. Are you drinking?

Jenna: He likes you. And no, not drinking.

Me: You’re crazy!

I open the notes app and type in “Thor”; I need to see what she’s talking about. I unlock my bike and think about what Shane could have left for me. I can’t imagine what it would be. I have never wanted time to fly by as much as I want it to now. The thought of riding back to the diner actually crosses my mind, but it’s the opposite from where I live and I’m afraid of what I might find if I leave my mother alone for an extended period of time again. The feeling of excitement quickly fades and is replaced with annoyance as I groan inwardly, detesting the fact that my life is ruled by my selfish mother. I hate that I have to take care of her as if she were a child.