Definitely, Maybe in Love (7 page)

Chapter 8

I lingered outside the doorway of the private study room on the third floor of the library, unwilling to step inside just yet.

I still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe my stupid luck. Of all the people who could help me—who were
willing
to help me—with my research project, it was Henry Knightly.

Stupid, fracking karma.

After breakfast at the café, I ran home through the rain and looked him up online. Or his family, rather. They were land barons, all right, had been for generations. When I’d Googled the Knightlys last year, digging up dirt when Knightly Hall was under construction, I had only scratched the surface. They did indeed own land all throughout North America, the biggest chunks around Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana. Prime farm and cattle real estate.

What they must have done to the landscape, I didn’t want to imagine. They’d had no issue bulldozing a strip of green to erect their namesake building at Stanford. Why would they treat twenty thousand innocent acres in the northwest any differently?

Halfway through my statistics class, my phone had vibrated with a new email. Again, he’d asked me to send my outline. I put off the inevitable for as long as I could, but as I calculated how many days I had left before Masen would be breathing down my neck, I finally realized I had no choice. I sent him my outline and fifteen minutes later, he emailed back, wanting to meet.

“Are we doing this or not?”

I jumped at his voice coming from inside the study room. How had he known I was there? Had he seen my shadow? Heard me tiptoe toward the room? Jeez, could he
smell
me? Could money buy super senses?

“Spring, I’ve got my own class in an hour.”

I closed my eyes for a second, gripped the strap of my backpack, then entered the room.

Knightly sat at a small table, a stack of books off to the side, and one of those slick black mini-laptops in front of him. He wore the same shirt and tie as this morning, only the top button was undone now, and his tie knot was loose. It was a good look on him. Now if he’d flash one of those smiles, this might be bearable.

“Hey,” I said, “sorry I’m late, I—”

“It’s fine.” He didn’t look up as I sat down.

Okay, so we were back to Mr. Charm then.

“I’ve been going over your outline and the list of resources you cited,” he said, clicking the down arrow about twenty times, staring at the screen.

“And?” I asked when he didn’t go on. “And you think it’s crap, right?”

“Not all of it,” he said, highlighting a paragraph on the screen.

“Well, that’s a relief,” I muttered, leaning on an elbow. “I didn’t assume we were going to see eye-to-eye on this, obviously. I know about the land your family owns.”

He finally lifted his chin but didn’t speak. I’d expected him to jump in, to debate with me like at breakfast, to say something. But he was just sitting there with a blank expression.

His silence made me tense.

“I…I know what they—what
you
—believe in,” I added, unable to stop myself from filling the silence. “And you should know, I didn’t come here to argue with you, or to hear a lecture, or for either of us to change our minds. I’m here because I have no other choice. Just so we’re clear. Okay? Don’t think you can trash my whole belief system then walk away.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

I blinked. “Oh. Well… But I know what you’re thinking.”

A tiny smile twitched the corner of his lips, a hint of that same smile that had halted me at breakfast. “How could you know that?” he asked, smoothing down his tie.

“Because I know your type,” I said, choosing to continue the argument instead of focusing on how looking at his smile made me want to lick my lips. “You’ve got a finance degree, you come from money and drive a sports car. You voted Republican, didn’t you?”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Is that a crime?”

“I wish,” I muttered, turning to a clean page of my notebook.

“Wow,” he said, deadpan. “Anything else about me you’d like to get off your chest?”

Suddenly, everything Alex told me came flooding into my brain. How Knightly had been jealous, judgmental, accusatory, and then Alex was suddenly expelled from high school. The memory of what Knightly had said about me at the party—what I’d
heard
him say—was also front and center in my mind. And how he’d yelled at the movers to not touch his precious car, and how he hadn’t spoken one word to Julia.

He may have been helping me out of a pretty huge bind, but I wasn’t about to trust him, despite the way he was watching me with that almost-smile, and the way one stray lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, begging for my fingers to push it back then continue running through his hair.

I had to ignore that and remember the rest.

He was all I had. I knew I had to play nice, so I smiled as pleasantly as possible and sat back. “Nope, I’m all done.” I glanced at his computer with my outline on the screen. “Now it’s your turn. What do you really think?”

He angled his laptop so the screen was facing me. Aside from Professor Masen’s last assignment, I’d never seen so many red strike-throughs.

This was going to be a very long semester.

Part II

Winter

“I had never loved anyone before…so I naturally thought that it was not in my nature to love. But it has always seemed to me that it
must
be
heavenly
to be loved blindly, passionately, wholly… And I would have allowed myself to be worshipped, and given infinite tenderness in return.”
From
The Scarlet Pimpernel

Chapter 9

As I came down the creaky attic stair from my bedroom, I ran into Anabel leaving Julia’s room.

“Oh, hey Springer,” she said, trying to display an innocent expression, which made me instantly suspicious.

“What were you doing in there?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, glancing into Julia’s room. “Just having a chat. Girl stuff. Have a nice Thanksgiving!” She waved her fingers and walked away. Little chats with Anabel usually included requests to borrow a pair of shoes you’d never see again, or unsolicited, unorthodox dating advice. When it came to Julia, neither was a good idea.

I rounded the corner and entered her room.

“Ready to go?” Julia asked, smiling brightly.

“Almost,” I replied, giving her a quick assessment. I’d have to ask her later what she and Anabel were discussing.

Two suitcases were open on the foot of her bed. The rest of the mattress was covered with separated stacks of clothes laid out in uniformed organization. Julia was singing to herself, methodically folding a white sweater. “You’re packed, right?” she asked.

I groaned as an answer, adjusting one ear bud as some very appropriate angry chick rock lulled in my ear.

With midterm exams over, we were now well into the meat of the winter quarter. Papers, research projects, advisory teams. Madness ahead. I’d dropped my three jobs to concentrate on school. Now was the time to focus, the big push to the end.

It was the first time I’d stepped foot in Julia’s bedroom in weeks. Despite the various piles of clothing, it was immaculate. Even with her mind intertwined with her heart, she was still as orderly as ever. I did notice that the calendar on her pink wall had not yet been turned from October to November, even though we were more than half-way through the month.

“Planning on staying forever?” I asked, eyeing the enormous pile of clothes in her suitcase.

“I wish.” She smiled wistfully.

I scooted over a pair of red jeans so I could sit. “This is going to be the longest seven days in the history of the world,” I moaned.

“So dramatic,” Julia replied. “You’ll be fine.”

“With you and Dart making kissing faces to each other over the turkey and cornbread stuffing, not to mention the other inhabitant of that house.”

Julia lifted her eyebrows at me. She’d been packing all morning. Anabel was heading out any minute, spending the week with her family. I seldom left for holidays anymore. My brothers were also staying away at school, and last I heard, Mom was going on a nature retreat, probably not even realizing it was Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to spend another holiday in my tiny hometown, didn’t need another reminder of what my life might be like if I didn’t succeed in college, if I didn’t get out and make something of myself in the world. I loved my mother, but I did not want to end up like her.

I should have gone on vacation with Mel, who was driving up to her grandparents’ house in Washington. She’d invited me, but I turned her down.

Julia actually
wanted
to stay in town for Thanksgiving. Because Dart was. So the two of us had the whole house to ourselves.

That was, until we learned that one of our landlord’s other rentals had termites, so all of his properties were being fumigated over the long break. The exterminator was arriving early tomorrow. Those of us who were remaining in town were forced to stay elsewhere while the toxic spray did its thing.

Julia was singing again, stowing her makeup bag in the small outside pocket of her second suitcase.

“What’s that there?” I asked when my eye caught a piece of black lace tucked in a corner.

“Oh.” Julia covered it with a sweatshirt. “It’s nothing,” she said, looking down, moving more clothes around. “Just something from Anabel.”

“Is it lingerie?”

“No. Well, sort of.” She tucked some hair behind an ear. “It’s nothing, really. I probably won’t ever wear it.”

She seemed so embarrassed, I almost laughed. “Bunny, it’s none of my business what you wear for your boyfriend; just be careful about what Anabel gives you, whether it’s a push-up bra or relationship advice.”

“I will. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You really like Alex,” she said. “Or should I
ask
that? Because it’s tough to tell with you.”

I played with the cuff of my sleeve. “What’s not to like?”

She twisted her lips but didn’t speak for a moment. “Now it’s
my
turn to say be careful to
you
,” she finally said.

“Your concern is duly noted.”

In the purely conventional respect, Alex and I weren’t dating, because dating involved actually going out to places, maybe sharing a meal. The moments Alex and I spent together always began the same way our first date had. No more, no less. A controlled release of pheromones and hormones was a nice way to break up a tedious day of studying. Alex was good for that. Sometimes we talked a bit about his past with Henry Knightly, although I wasn’t very comfortable with the topic, so I usually cut him off. And I never breathed a word to anyone else about what he’d told me the night of our first date.

“We don’t know anything about him,” Julia said, hauling suitcase number one toward the door.

“
You
don’t,” I said, “but I do.”

“I asked Dart about it a few weeks ago, because it’s obvious Alex and Henry have a history.”

I glanced at her. She was fiddling with the zipper on her suitcase.

“He knows they went to high school together and had a falling out. Dart said Henry doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” I agreed, bending my knees to sit cross-legged.

Julia frowned.

Very easily, I could have put her mind at ease. Alex and I had a good run, but the rush of dopamine and norepinephrine stimulating my senses had rapidly decreased. I was crazy-busy, and I was bored. It took a lot to hold my interest, no matter how good the kissing.

“Do you trust Alex over Henry?” Julia asked hesitantly.

“I do.”

“Even after all his help with your thesis?”

“Just because he’s been spending a few nights a week lecturing me on how wrong I am doesn’t mean he isn’t an even bigger ass to other people. In fact, it probably
proves
he is. Who knows how big a jerk he is to his actual friends.”

She looked down, running her fingers over her lap. “We’ve known each other for more than two years,” she began, eyes lowered. “You didn’t used to be so closed-minded.”

“The guy called me hypocritical the other day because I ate an egg.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m an Environmental Vegetarian, not Gandhi. And last week, he told me I’m a haughty elitist. How can I be an elitist if I don’t have any money?”

“Your attitude, maybe?”

I sat back. “Meaning?”

From her bent expression, I could tell she was sorry she’d said the words in the first place. Her fingers nervously twirled at the ends of her hair, giving me the same worried, detached look Mel had that night at the street party.

“Well…” Julia pressed her lips together. “You can come on a little strong.”

“Me?” I asked, trying not to sound shrieky. “It’s his fault. He’s so political about everything.”

She stared at me for a moment then burst out laughing. “Hello black pot, have you met the black kettle?” She swatted my knee and stood. “All right, Springer, time to go.”

“No, bunny, please,” I whined. “Let’s take out a loan and stay at a hotel.”

“Funny,” she said. “Before we go, I need you to do me a big favor.”

“Anything,” I said, kicking my feet off the bed.

“Say two nice things about Henry.”

“Anything but that.”

“That way, during the week if you happen to feel, umm,
incensed
, you can bring those to mind.” She fingered her hair into a ponytail. “Just two things. You can even make them physical. That’s easy. Hello, you’re not
blind
—”

“Fine,” I cut her off. “He’s a…a good shaver.”

Julia rolled her eyes.

“And his face is very symmetrical.”

“Hot,” she said sarcastically, but I’d apparently pacified her enough for the moment. “Grab your bags. It’s time.”

Chapter 10

Dart was all smiles and excitement when he opened the front door, one hand gripping the top as it swung open. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said to Julia, resembling a kid about to take a pony ride.

“Hi,” she replied, managing to blush. They’d been together for three months and she still acted like every time they saw each other was their first date. Apparently, Dart was a sucker for good girls. And you couldn’t get more “good” than Julia.

I wondered if she would have the guts to wear that mystery item of black lace for him. Then I reminded myself to have a serious talk with her about Anabel. Someone like Julia did not need to be guided by the resident Kardashian sister of Stanford. But when Dart moved in to kiss Julia and she tilted her face so he got her cheek, I figured that talk could wait.

My time previously spent inside the Knightly/Charleston abode was fleeting, and I’d never been over when Knightly was there. I preferred to keep our relationship—such as it was—at a professional distance.

This was not supposed to include sleeping in his house for a week.

The place wasn’t your typical college bachelor pad. No flashing neon signs on any of the walls, no beer cooler coffee table, no kitschy lava lamps, and not a single barbell or free weight scattered on the floor, which was what I usually tripped over when entering any other testosterone-filled dwelling on campus.

As we crossed the threshold into the living room, Knightly was sitting on the couch, bent over a stack of opened textbooks, a laptop at his side. He was wearing dark pants, and the top two buttons of his solid blue shirt were undone. A dark blue tie was draped over the back of the couch.

“They’re here.” Dart beamed, ushering us in.

Knightly looked up from his work, his expression cordial. “Hey, there,” he said, closing his book and standing. “Is there anything I can do? All the bags in?”

Julia and Dart were too busy cooing at each other to answer.

“Got everything. I think we’re set,” I answered, kind of feeling like a idiot.

He nodded and it was quiet again. I should have been used to his patches of silence by now. We’d had five study sessions in the last month; half the time we were debating, the other half, you could hear a pin drop. We were experts at the classic impasse.

“Umm, we really appreciate this,” I forced myself to utter, trying not to sound like I was swallowing medicine. “Thanks for letting us stay.”

“Sure,” he replied. “Once I learned your circumstances, it didn’t make sense any other way. We’re neighbors.”

“Right,” I said. “Neighbors.”

He eyed me. “Why do you say it like that?”

I felt like laughing. Last time we’d met to go over my thesis, we’d almost come to blows. Well, I’d almost come to blows while Knightly had sat there, watching in silence as I’d become more and more angry at the way he thought my project should go. But if
he
still considered us just neighbors, then fine.

“Never mind,” I said.

Dart’s shoulder bumped me as he swept by. He had one of Julia’s suitcases in his hand. She followed behind him, towing the other on its wheels.

Knightly glanced at me. “I suppose they know where they’re going.”

I smiled a little awkwardly.

“May I?” he asked, looking down at my side. I wasn’t sure what he meant until he picked up the straps of my bag.

“I can carry it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’ve already got it,” he said, walking deeper inside the house. I followed him around a corner to a narrow hallway.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“A few times. Only the living room.”

“We’ll save the grand tour for later. I’ll give you the five cent version now. It’s a very logical setup. Purposefully logical. There are five bedrooms and only the two of us.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Dart and myself, I meant. Not you and I. How would that look?”

“Frightful,” I said, laughing.

He led me up the stairs.

“Each room is painted one dominant color,” he explained. “You most likely didn’t notice the red room we just passed. It’s the only bedroom on the first floor. Lilah will stay in there.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered.

He paused on the landing, his brown eyes sizing me up. He must’ve read my sour expression. “Oh, that’s right. You two don’t get along. Why is that?”

“
I
get along fine. She’s the one who wants me dead.”

Knightly thought for a moment then nodded sagely. “Got it. No more questions.”

“Thank you,” I said, and we continued up the stairs.

“This is Dart’s room.” He gestured to the first room behind a closed door. “Gold. I told him he could repaint, but he likes the color, calls it Zen. Your roommate is across the hall from him. Naturally.”

“Naturally,” I echoed, walking past her room. I heard muffled voices through the crack in the door.

“Also Dart’s,” he said, gesturing to a bathroom as he breezed by.

We passed by two more closed doors without any details. I guessed they were being saved for part of the later “grand tour.”

The last door of the hallway was wide open, lights on. “I’m assuming green is your favorite color, Ms. Environmentalist.”

“How long did it take you to think that one up?”

Knightly stood at the doorway, allowing me to enter first. The room had clean, bright white walls with three-inch green, black and white checkered borders around the ceiling and floor. Behind green striped curtains, one huge window faced east. The cozy boudoir was fancier than any hotel room I’d stayed in.

“Thanks. This is really nice.”

“You’re our first official guest,” he said, leaning against the door frame. “Lilah doesn’t count, in my book.” He dropped my overstuffed
Adopt a Rainforest
duffel bag in front of him. “Well, you should have everything you need.” He turned on his heel and took one step into the hall. “Bathroom’s next door. It’s mine. We’re sharing.”

And he disappeared.

I stared at the empty doorway where he’d been standing.

Sharing a bathroom? With Henry Knightly? That won’t be awkward at all…

My mind quickly calculated how much I had on my one emergency credit card. I moaned, arms hanging limply at my sides. I hated feeling so helpless, so financially strapped. I wished I could call my mother to bail me out, but that was never a realistic option. After I graduated, hopefully I wouldn’t have to stress so much about money.

But for now, like a good little soldier, I hung clothes in the closet, tossed shoes under the bed, gathered together my absolutely necessary toiletries, and headed next door.

The bathroom was immaculate, not a speck of dust, not a single lock of hair. Even the glass shower doors were spotless. The room was the same combination of brown, gray, cream, and black as the living room, and smelled of aftershave, pinecones, and bleach.

The cabinet unit was a warm cinnamon color with black hardware. There were two doors on either side, and three drawers in the center. The middle drawer was empty, and had been pulled out almost all the way and left open. Knowing my host’s etiquette, I was sure this was meant for me. My few hair products, toothbrush and toothpaste, soap, and face cleanser all fit nicely inside.

After securely locking the door behind me, I snuck a peek at the shelves behind the mirror. An electric toothbrush, green Speed Stick, a small brown bottle of cologne with an Italian label peeling off, and an urn of MAC hair putty.

On the counter next to the sink sat a blue-and-gray-glazed pottery mug of shaving cream and a lathering brush.

Yep
, I thought as I took a quick whiff of the spicy foam,
that’s him
.

The linen closet next to the shower was that same warm cinnamon. I creaked open the door and examined the contents. Nothing out of the ordinary there, either. Down on my knees, I stuck my head under the sink. I didn’t know what I was expecting to find as I ruthlessly snooped through other drawers and cabinets. Perhaps I was hoping for that one item that would tell me all about him, that elusive clue to confirm everything.

But whatever it was I was searching for, I didn’t find it. Henry Knightly had all the earmarks of any other twenty-three-year-old conservative student of
jurisprudence
.

I headed downstairs to join the others, somewhat disappointed.

Everyone was in the kitchen. The grand meal wasn’t for a few days, but Julia was already in full-blown domestic mode, chopping vegetables for nibbling, and a platter of crackers and dip sat on the table. Dart was rinsing something at the sink. When Julia came up behind him, she slid her first two fingers into the back of his jeans at the waist. It was a tiny gesture, to which Dart didn’t even react. I don’t know why it caught my attention.

As far as I knew, Julia hadn’t had sex yet, being a little more old-fashioned than your average twenty-one-year-old. There was only one other virgin in the room that I knew of.

I guess I was just…I never had time for such entanglements. My philandering youth was spent trying to get into Stanford, and then trying to
stay
in Stanford.

Well, that’s what I told myself. If I was being brutally honest, the thought of even the tiniest chance of having to stop my life to have a baby scared every ounce of all-the-way libido out of me. My mother had me at seventeen, and never let me forgot how she sacrificed everything to keep me. She struggled, my whole family struggled. I was not going to spend the rest of my life like that.

Catching a glimpse of Julia and Dart in an intimate moment surprised me. The beginning of their relationship was all-consuming. Which wasn’t odd for Julia—she never let the physical get very far. She was always more emotionally invested. That was probably where Anabel’s gift of black lace came in.

Dart’s hand slid to her side, curling low around her hip. Huh. Maybe they
had
already slept together. Julia and I were close, so I was a little surprised she hadn’t told me. I couldn’t help sneaking more tiny glances their way as they huddled over the sink. Her fingers were out of his jeans, but the way they were standing next to each other, her hair up in a pony tail, his hand on the back of her bare neck. Innocent, yet…not.

I swallowed and looked away. Having that kind of comfortable, complete intimacy was not in the cards for me, not with my parents’ disaster of a marriage as my prime example. For as long as I could remember, I wanted no part of that. But suddenly, watching Julia in her bare feet lift up to her tiptoes to kiss Dart on the cheek, I wondered if I might be missing out on something.