One (16 page)

"Maybe he's in a
hurry to see his old friend again."

Nat smirks as she makes
her way across to open the door. Her heels sound louder than normal.
I put a hand through my hair. My head feels a little heavier with my
hair loose, but I don't hate the feeling.

"Nat, I-"

"Hello."
Pax's low timber drifts to where I sit. I freeze, literally shocked
motionless. How did Pax get here? How did he know what room number to
go to?

"
Pax?
"
Nat's shocked voice would have been comical if it wasn't for the fact
that my surprise was as evident as hers.

I whip around to see
him hold out his hand. "I'm Reid Paxton, but some people like to
call me Pax," he introduces himself. His eyes find me for a
quick moment, but then they flash back to her. Charm exudes out of
him like water from a waterfall. I'm fascinated and a little jealous
at the same time. From Nat's side profile, she seems slightly dazed
as she gives him her hand. "Can we come in?" he asks
politely. She steps back and I see Pax is with Cade.

"I hope you don't
mind," Pax turns to me. "Cade needs a ride to the gym, and
since it's on our way, I thought we'd drop him off."

"Sure."

There's a moment of
awkward silence as the boys look around. I've never seen Nat shocked
speechless before as she stares at possibly two of the most famous
guys on campus. I need to appreciate this moment, but Pax's presence
makes the room feel ten times smaller, and it's making me nervous.

"Nice place,"
Cade comments politely. I'm willing to bet he's got a fancy apartment
in the city somewhere.

"Not really, but
thanks," I say.

"It's homey,"
he says.
If by "homey", you mean cluttered, smelly, and
the size of a closet then yes our dorm room is definitely "homey".

"It's
comfortable," Pax breaks in smoothly. "Like a favorite
shoe." He grins and I want to laugh. That's the perfect
description for our tiny home away from home. "Do you remember
meeting Cade?" Pax gestures at me.

A picture of Cade
shirtless and flirting floats quickly through my mind. "Yes."

"This is Jules,"
he introduces us. I shake Cade's hand and it feels smooth. My hands
are like gravel against his satin palms.

I look toward Nat.
"This is Nat." I grab her hand and pull her toward me. That
snaps her out of her daze and she blinks rapidly.

"Natalie's a
pretty name," Pax comments politely.

"I used to know a
Natalie once," Cade says.

Without meaning to, I
answer, "Her name's not Natalie."

In that same moment,
she answers, "My name's not Natalie." It's her pet peeve.
It's the first thing I learned about her. "I'm
Nat
. You
know, like the black singer and musician Nat King Cole?"

Cade's handsome face
breaks in confusion. "Who's that? Does he play for a band we
know?"

"Not unless
corpses rise from the dead," Nat answers. She straightens, and
it's obvious she's back to her normal self. "He passed away
decades ago."

I know what he's
thinking. Cade stares at her blue eyes and white, porcelain skin.
"Your parents named you after a dead black guy?"

"So what if they
did? My nanny was black." She shrugs as if that explains it.

I have to give it to
Pax and Cade; both keep a straight face despite the obvious questions
lingering in the air. Before anyone can reply, I move closer to them.
"Should we go?"

"You ready?"
Pax's emerald gaze is steady.

I think about it.
"Yeah," I finally say, "I am."

Pax owns an old Ford
Taurus he inherited from his parents. I know that because Cade keeps
referring to it as an old lady car. Pax doesn't take offense, and
laughs with ease when Cade starts to make fun of the "ninny"
engine. I hate that I'm already judging, but I can't seem to stop
myself. I picture Cade owning something fancy like a Ferrari and I
imagine him and Pax in it, driving through the city, picking up girls
like apples from a tree. I picture Cade driving, and Pax opening the
window slowly like in the movies. In my mind I see him flash a smile,
and I hear the low timbre in his tone as he introduces himself to a
beautiful redhead with green eyes. I wrinkle my nose in annoyance.
Why did I agree to this date again?
I sneak a glance at Pax in
the driver's seat. Cade's doing a horrendous imitation of a rap song,
and surprisingly Pax is joining him. He nods his head, inviting me to
sing along but I shy away. "Singing's not my thing," I
explain.

"It isn't ours
either," Pax replies.

Clearly.
Cade
starts rapping, "Do it to the maximum, why you asking them?
Don't listen to them suckers when they say you too irrational…"

"The song is
called 'Big Things Poppin' by T.I," Pax says over the loud bass.
Cade's really getting into it now, bobbing his head so hard I'm
afraid it'll fall off. "Hey," Pax waves at me to get my
attention. He hands me his phone, "Quick, record it. We can
blackmail him into getting us front row seats at the next Blue's
concert." Blue's is a local club bands play at.

I take the black touch
screen. "Aren't you guys best friends?" I ask.

Pax's eyes sparkle.
"Heck yeah we are, but some opportunities are just too golden to
miss." He turns the music louder and Cade follows suit, raising
his voice until I hear the strain. Pax doesn't lock his phone and I
easily access the video recorder.

"Do it like a ball
player when you see me ballin'…"

I have to stifle my
giggling because Cade looks ridiculous and sounds just as bad, but
he's really passionate about the words.

"This kid thinks
he's the white T.I. just because they're both bald," Pax
whispers loudly. "It's dumb," he rolls his eyes. "You
got no street cred, dude!" Pax yells over to Cade. Cade flicks
him off. I laugh, capturing it all on camera. Quickly, I put the
phone down before Cade sees what I've done. I feel a little guilty
when I hand the phone back to Pax, but I can't imagine Pax doing
anything
too
bad with the footage. I settle into my seat until
Cade is dropped off.

Once he's gone, Pax
switches from the radio to his iPod and "Radioactive" from
Imagine Dragons comes on. "I love this song," he tells me.

I've heard it before.
"It's not bad. You like listening to rock- pop?"

"I like listening
to anything that's good. Mom used to yodel when she was younger so I
was obligated to listen to that when I was growing up. Dad had more
eclectic tastes. He liked everyone from Bob Dylan to Aerosmith to Run
DMC."

My eyebrows go up.
"Really?"

"Oh yeah. He
almost shit in his pants when Aerosmith and Run DMC got together for
'Walk This Way'."

I laugh. I've heard
this song before. It was really popular in the late seventies I've
been told. I don't know what his dad looked like, but I picture an
older white male in a perfect polo shirt singing the chorus to "Walk
This Way".

"It was worse
hearing him sing that then Cade just now," Pax chuckles. He
imitates Steven Tyler's high-pitched scream in the chorus and I burst
out laughing. "Don't laugh. It's harder to do than it sounds,"
he tells me, rubbing his throat.

"I'm not laughing
at
you; I'm laughing
with
you."

"Bullshit!"

I can't hide the wide
grin. "Okay! I couldn't help it. You sounded like a dying
hyena."

"That dying hyena
sound made Aerosmith millions," he points out.

"You got me."

"What sort of
music do you like?" Pax asks, flipping it to me.

A small smile touches
my lips. "Anything that's good," I repeat his answer. The
truth is I didn't listen to music much growing up so all my knowledge
comes from whatever I hear on the bus radio every morning before
school.

"Ah, so we
do
have something in common."

"Because we've got
flexible music tastes?" I laugh.

"Hey," he
pretends to be offended. "Our ears are special. It's a talent to
like such a variety of music."

"Or we just have
no standard in music."

"Hey," he
objects. "Speak for yourself. My mom was classically trained for
five years. Some of that was bound to have transferred to me."

"Prove it," I
challenge. "Yodel."

"What do I get in
return?"

"A second date,"
I answer instantly.

He chuckles. "We've
barely started our
first
date. What if I don't like you?"

"Not possible,"
I tease.

He looks at me for a
moment. "All right," he relents. "Here's the deal: two
more dates and I get to walk you to class all next week."

My mouth drops open.

He shrugs. "I'm a
tough negotiator. Take it or leave it."

That's not why I'm
shocked. He wants to see me
every day
next week? Something
giddy comes over me, like every cell inside is scrambling to move.
"You drive a hard bargain." I sound like I'm croaking. I
clear my throat. "Is that what you really want?"

He doesn’t hesitate.
"Yes."

Is that what
I
want? The answer comes out before I get a chance to think. "Yes."

"It's a deal
then."

I shouldn't feel happy,
but I do. At least I think this tight, slight dizzy feeling running
through me is happiness. I put my hands in my lap.

"We're going
through a tunnel," he tells me a second before darkness descends
around us.

That's exactly what
this feels like. A tunnel. It feels as if I was in transition, and
now Pax is trying to get me to the other side.

I'm not sure I want to
go.

I give a start when
Pax's hands covers mine.

I don't think I have a
choice.

* * *

We park underneath a
cliff. We literally pull to the side of the road, and I look up and
there's a cliff. "What is this place?" I ask as I get out.
If I had known we were coming here, I wouldn't have worn anything so
sparkly. Bugs like sparkly things.

"It's a place I
like to go to chill. I was thinking we could stay here a while and
then head downtown. It's a little early to go there now."

"Okay."

He grins at me, coming
to stand by my side. "I knew it."

"What?"

"You're perfect
for me."

I choke on my own
saliva.

"Most girls
wouldn't like to come here first and then do downtown later," he
explains. "They'd worry about their hair and their clothes too
much, but you? You're different. You're low maintenance." He
gives a shaky laugh. "I think I need some low maintenance in my
life." I'm curious about what that means, but I think if I ask
he'll want to trade information and I'm not ready to do that yet.

He takes my hand and
all I can think about is how warm he feels. His heat isn't a fire;
it's more like the buzz of warm embers. Cozy. Comfortable.

Pleasant.

I think my heart's in
my throat, and I have to swallow several times to bring it back into
my chest.

"You okay?"
Pax asks as we make our way up. There are several trails with woods
and trees surrounding us.

I nod.

"You sound
breathless."

"Not all of us are
perfect athletes like you," I say, glad I came up with a remark
to hide what's really happening.

"This 'perfect'
athlete has to train thirty hours a week," he points out.

To me it sounds like a
waste when you can use that time to be making money. I know his
parents weren't rich or they wouldn't have been working at Maddie’s.

"You must enjoy
it," I say.

He shrugs. "Kind
of. I needed something on my college application. I played in high
school because it was the only sport I was moderately good at. UW
offered me a full scholarship provided I play for them so that's why
I agreed."

I stare at him,
wide-eyed. Suddenly, I laugh.

"What?" he
looks a little baffled. We stop as he turns to face me.

I contain myself enough
to explain. "Well, it's just that you're the most famous guy on
this campus. You've got a couple billboards with your face on it, and
it turns out you don't even like football much." I can't help
it. I start laughing again. The irony isn't lost on him either
because his lips quirk just a little.

"I like football,"
he tries to back track.

"Too late," I
say smugly. "I already know your secret."

He pulls me closer
until my body touches his. He feels just like I remember. Suddenly,
I'm not laughing anymore. Pax puts a finger to my lips. I hold still,
afraid to even take a breath. His finger feels heavy on my mouth.

"I promise not to
tell if
you
promise not to tell," he says in a low voice.

"What?" My
lips barely move when I breathe out that word.

There's a sexy smile on
his face.

That should've given me
a clue.

Without warning Pax
grabs at my knees. I fall, but before my body touches the ground Pax
hoists me onto his shoulders and starts running. He's yelling,
screaming like a cave man. I flip flop between laughing and scolding
him.

"Put me down,"
I say, unable to stop the giggles coming out. I feel each step he
takes. His shoulders are brick hard.

"Nu-uh, you're
asking for it!"

"Put me down!"
I try to say in a sterner voice, but I end up chortling instead when
he almost trips over something on the trail. It shouldn't be funny
considering if he falls I fall too, but he made the funniest sound -a
cross between a shout and the sounds a headless chicken might make-
that I can't get mad. "You're going to kill us!" I shriek.

"Don't be
dramatic," he says, slapping my butt. I make a startled sound.
"You're lighter than the bags Coach makes us carry during
training." To prove it he runs faster.