Dearest Clementine (24 page)

* * *

Gavin stands in my doorway, and I lean up and kiss him despite the fact that my two roommates are sitting behind us, watching our every move.

“Thanks for the flowers.” I reach up and grab both sides of his jacket. His eyes are so expressive and filled with the same emotions that seem to be pulsing through my veins. “I’ve never gotten flowers before,” I whisper.

“I remember.” He places a small kiss on my lips.

“When did you send them? You couldn’t have done it this morning.”

“Yesterday afternoon.” The corner of his mouth tilts up.

“How did you know we’d have a good date?” Oh, God, I hope I wasn’t a foregone conclusion. But I don’t think that’s what the flowers were for. After all, he was the one with his hands in his pockets when we reached my front door.

Leaning down, he whispers in my ear, “I wanted you to have them, no matter what happened last night.”

My brief bout of anxiety dissipates with those words, and I can’t contain my grin. “You need to be careful or you’ll spoil me.”

“I fully intend to spoil you,” he says, kissing me once more before he leaves. “See you in a bit.”

We both want a shower before breakfast, so he’s heading home to clean up. When I close my front door, I lean back on it and sigh that deep release a girl can only have after an amazing first date.

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t cancel last night?” Harper asks as she smells my bouquet.

“Can I just say that my
boyfriend
is dangerously talented in the bedroom?”

Jenna, whose eyebrows dart up when she hears that word, starts freaking out again. “Oh my God! Oh my God! I want details!”

“I need a shower, girls. I am all kinds of dirty right now, and I don’t want to be late for breakfast.” I duck into my bedroom to grab a change of clothes despite Jenna’s protests that I dish. When I get in the bathroom and look in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. My hair looks windblown, my cheeks are pink, and I look wildly contented despite the mild throb
down there
that started when we were rolling around in bed this morning.

Standing under the hot water, I think about what he said, that he fantasizes about me, and that throb grows. I’m not really one for self-service—I’ve only done it a couple of times, mostly out of curiosity—but Gavin has flipped a switch in me, and I can’t go back. I don’t think I want to go back even if I could.

I want him, now, and since he’s not here, the memory of him is probably not a bad way to go about this.

Closing my eyes, I think of him—the way his hands caress me, the way his lips brush against mine, the way every part of him is hard muscle—and I let my hands roam my body. As they trail down my wet stomach, my breathing picks up, and when I reach between my legs, I try to imitate what Gavin did to me and place small, slow circles along my sensitive skin. After a few minutes, I have to brace myself against the wall of the shower because it’s so intense.

When I’m done, I’m panting and lightheaded and laughing to myself, hoping my roommates can’t hear me.
Why haven’t I ever enjoyed it like this before? Because, holy shit, this is awesome!

* * *

I beat him to the cafe, so I grab a window seat facing the dorms and order two coffees, which are being delivered when Gavin walks in, and oh, what a beautiful creature he is. He’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt, a hoodie and jeans, and it may only be typical college-guy attire, but I’ve never seen anything more enticing. How I was not immediately smitten by Gavin Murphy is still a mystery. Apparently, his looks are no secret as several girls turn to admire him when he arrives.

“Hey, babe,” he says as he leans in to kiss me.

I’m giddy from his small show of endearment and feeling a little stupid that I’ve become a hearts-and-flowers girl overnight. Being with him makes me want to kiss nonstop, and I could give a shit who sees. I snicker to myself.

He tilts his head, curiosity in his eyes. Shrugging, I smile back. “It’s nothing,” I say, wanting to change the subject before he gets me to confess I could take him on the table if amply prodded.

“Some of the guys from the dorm are joining me in a while. We have to plan activities for the freshmen,” he says, checking the time on his phone. “But we have time to eat first.”

“No problem. I have to get to work soon. What kind of things do you need to plan?”

“Sightseeing tours, because so many students are from out-of-state, and a Halloween party.”

“That doesn’t sound too painful.”

“No, that’s not too bad. It’s working out our schedules that’s a pain in the ass.”

“What do you mean? The schedules aren’t already made for you?” I tear open a sugar packet and toss the contents into my mug.

“They are, but we can change them among ourselves—swap days, floors, that sort of thing.”

“Swap floors?”

“We have a couple of RAs from our building we can swap with in case of an emergency. We do group outings and social events together, so the freshmen get to know us. My buddy Mark and I have swapped floors a few times when I had a gig with Ryan or a last-minute article I had to write.”

“That’s so different from my job. If anyone switched schedules, I’d skewer them.”

“You’re in charge of that?”

“My manager is supposed to do it, but he gives me the honors because the students know how pissed I get if they back out.”

“So you’re the enforcer?”

“Something like that.” I laugh at how tough that sounds. “I’m anything but that, but I probably talk a good show.”

“You only
seem
like a badass then.”

“I don’t know that I would go that far.” I look up, and he’s staring so intensely at me, I blush. “Gavin, stop.”

He chuckles. “What? I can’t look?” He lowers his voice. “I can’t think about you. Naked. Beneath me.”

I gasp, “Gavin!” and cover my eyes.

He laughs and reaches over to lace his fingers through mine.

“Besides, I wasn’t entirely naked,” I whisper, mortified.

He flashes a devilish grin. “You were in my head.”

I try not to let my jaw linger on the table when we’re interrupted by our waiter who takes our order. I get some fruit and a small omelet, and he gets pancakes. When our food arrives, I smile as I watch him pour the syrup over the perfect squares he’s cut into his food.

“Want a bite?” he asks as he holds out a forkful.

“No, thanks.” I shake my head. “Boys and their pancakes.”

“Hmm?”

“My brother loves pancakes. I used to make them for him every Sunday when we were growing up.”

Gavin takes a sip of his coffee, looking like he wants to ask me something.

“What?” I take a bite of my omelet, curious about what he’s thinking.

“Have you talked to your brother since he came over?”

I stop chewing. I did tell him he could ask anything. This is what normal people do, right? Share things about themselves.
Except for you because you have the emotional capacity of a garden gnome.

Fighting the slight twisting sensation in my stomach, I clear my throat. “No, I haven’t. I probably should. I know he was being thoughtful by bringing that box over. That’s saying a lot about him. Jax is all about Jax, so him taking time to do that shouldn’t turn me into a raving lunatic or he’ll never want to do anything nice for me again.”

It’s only now that I’m actually opening up to someone other than Harper and Jenna that I realize how much I’ve locked away.

Gavin reaches over and strokes my hand. “Don’t say that about yourself. You had a right to be upset.”

“Anyway, I need to drag my butt out there to see a few of his games, but they’re always at the oddest times, like on a Tuesday at four. I think he has a game on Saturday, though. I’m gonna try to go. I can usually get one of my roommates to come ’cause they love ogling my brother,” I say, rolling my eyes.

As we’re finishing up our meal, a group of guys comes in, and Gavin gets up to greet them. I stand next to him as he goes around, introducing me to his fellow RAs. I meet his friend Mark, who is tall and handsome like Gavin, but not nearly as striking, and Jeremy, who is cute in a nerdy Weezer kind of way. After meeting two more guys, I realize I won’t remember any of their names, so I stop trying to keep track. Gavin is all smiles until something catches his eye, making his eyebrows pinch. I turn to see what he’s looking at.

Angry Red.

Angelique, who is stunning wrapped up in a burgundy jacket, waltzes through the door.

“I hope you don’t mind. I thought I’d tag along,” she says to Gavin as though there aren’t a group of people with him. She puckers her perfectly painted lips, like she’s deep in thought. “You always come up with the best plans, and I didn’t want my floor to complain about my activities.”

He tenses his jaw as she looks me over, almost smiling but not quite. I must not be the only one who’s uncomfortable because everyone is quiet, and as though Gavin senses my apprehension, he rests his hand on the small of my back.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” I say to her since she’s staring at me. “I’m Clementine.” I paste on a smile.

“Angelique.”

Neither one of us continues with the
pleasantries
, and although Gavin says it’s over between them, I know she still wants him. Nothing could be more obvious. I wonder if she remembers when I ran into her with all of my junk food at the convenience store.
When she was talking about Gavin and the “bitch” he’s dating.

I start talking on autopilot. “Well, I’m off to work. It’s nice to meet you all.” Turning to Gavin, I grab his arm. “Thanks for breakfast.” He looks down me with an apologetic smile and kisses me on the forehead.

“I’ll call you later.”

I hate leaving him with Angelique, especially when she looks so damn pleased that I’m taking off. So I decide to give him something to think about. Something that’s all me. Leaning up to him, I whisper in his ear. “I thought about you this morning. In the shower.”

His head whips toward me, and I grin, lifting up on my tiptoes again to kiss him on the lips before I leave. Because I want Angelique to understand that Gavin is
not
available
.

-
19 -

The roses smell divine, but they’re also making me a little crazy, enveloping me in a constant reminder of Gavin. We both have to work the rest of the weekend, so aside from some flirty texts, we don’t have any time to hang out.

By the end of my shift on Sunday evening, I’m restless with thoughts of him. Desperate to regain my sense of balance, I lace up my running shoes and head down for a run by the river. Although it’s dark outside, the reflection of the moon on the water fills me with a sense of peace. It’s cold outside, but I run until I’m sweaty and hot and purged of the neediness that’s filled me since Gavin and I parted ways yesterday morning.

When I reach Bay State Road and the familiar sight of my brownstone, I slow to a crawl, content to enjoy the brisk night and the scent of autumn in the air. That is, until I reach my walkway. There, I pause, caught off guard by a sickeningly sweet odor that makes me shiver. Clove cigarettes.

Jason Wheeler wouldn’t be stupid enough to lurk outside my door, would he? I’m sure his parents probably paid a shitload of money to appease the powers that be at this school to let his behavior, for all intents and purposes, go unnoticed.

Shaking my head at my paranoia because, really, there are probably dozens of students on my block who smoke those cigarettes on occasion, I duck into my building.

I’m appreciating how running can make everything right in the world when I open my bedroom door and the smell of flowers hits me.

“Damn it.” Flooded with images of Gavin, I’m clouded and anxious all over. Not that thinking about him is bad, but I have things I need to do. And I can’t focus. At all.

After a quick shower, I get dressed. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare at the bouquet, which takes up most of my desk. The blossoms have opened and make for a chaotic arrangement of delicate petals.

Seeing his name on an incoming text a few minutes later has my insides doing a small samba. His message has three beautiful words:
I miss you.
Deciding that I have to scratch that itch before I go insane, I’m halfway out the door when my phone buzzes again with another three words:
Come see me.

I don’t bother to write back. That would take too long.

I reach his dorm in record time, but the glacially slow ride up to the eighteenth floor has me fidgeting with nervous energy, and I’m gripped with apprehension. I know that intimacy with a man can change everything, and even though we didn’t go all the way, I was still vulnerable and shared a whole lot of my naked self with him. 

A girlfriend in high school once told me that once she messed around with a guy, she lost interest. It didn’t matter how handsome or charming he was, the next time she saw him after they hooked up, she was over it. What if it’s like that for Gavin and me? What if his feelings have changed? What if I see him and
my
feelings have changed?