She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) (3 page)

She nods. “Yesterday. I moved in early so we hung out last night. He’s great.”

As much as I hate that Ben hung out with No-Beauty-Mark Megan, I’m glad he spent time telling her about me. “He’s the best.”

When I tell Megan I’ve met everyone except whoever’s in room four, her eyes light up. She describes the room four guys. “They’re sophomore bodybuilders who’ve turned their room into a mini-gym!” She also tells me that Winston and Maggie knew each other as kids and randomly ended up here as neighbors.

“Wow! Maybe this place is magical,” I say.

Megan and I chat until we reach Sheridan. She doesn’t know about my crazy, my past, my struggles. To her, I’m no more than a girl down the hall. I miss Justine like mad, but talking with Megan is easy and simple
. We’re just girls hanging out
. The combination of this new, clean slate and knowing I’ll have Ben by my side makes me believe that maybe, here in New Jersey, everything will be perfect for the first time in years.

Chapter Three

Chase

I take a deep breath, cradle two cans of beer in the crook of my arm, and knock on Juliet’s door. When she opens it, I know I’ll be rendered speechless even though I’ll need to find a way to talk and keep my cool at the same time.

Juliet flings the door open and looks past me, her eyes wide with hope. Her hair is down and looks incredible, like a thick shawl spread over her bare shoulders.
I’m going to find a way to touch that hair
.

“Where’s Ben?” she asks, huffing.

I act offended, hoping to get a reaction. “Hello to you, too, gorgeous.” She smiles, refocuses, and waves me in.

I hand her a beer and scan the room. Juliet’s half is messy and disorganized, but the other half is untouched. “
Gorgeous
, huh?” she asks. She sits on the bed, crosses her long legs underneath her, and pushes a pile of clothes to the side. My heart skips a beat at the sight of the lacy black bra folded on top. “I’ve known you for about five minutes and you’re already calling me
gorgeous
?” She opens her can, holding my gaze as she takes a sip.

“Only took me half a second in the train station to realize that.” I flip the desk chair and sit on it backwards, flashing my best smile.

She raises her eyebrows. “Where’s Ben?” Apparently, she has a one-track mind.

“Right behind me. He invited me on your dinner date.”

“He did? Please tell me you aren’t coming.”

“Juliet!” I gasp, feigning shock. “Don’t worry. I know you’ve been stalking him all day, so I declined his invitation.” She practically sighs with relief.
Ouch.
“We talked about you.”

She squints. “What’d he say?” Even though she’s fishing for Ben information, I appreciate her momentary focus.

“We talked about how hot you are.” Her eyes dance. I lean in and smell her shampoo.
Flowers.
“He told me you’re a ballerina.”

“I am.” I hear the flirt in her tone. “Are you a ballet fan?”

“I love ballerinas.” I’ve loved plenty of ballerinas, actually, but I don’t tell her that. “Are you any good?” As I open my can I count all the ways I’m violating the NLP. First, I’m lusting after my roommate’s pseudo-girlfriend. Now, I’m drinking. Juliet is a beautiful sight, and the beer is so refreshing, I have no choice but to hit the pause button on the NLP.

“I am. Except here I’m like a fish out of water. I have to find a new studio.”

“What are you doing at NJU? Shouldn’t you be on stage somewhere?”

“I can’t go pro with this body.”

Juliet drinks as she watches me look her over. “Your body looks fine to me,” I say, then gulp my beer.

“Good to know, Train Boy.” She looks down at her chest. “But my boobs are too big to go pro.”

I spit out my beer as she laughs. It’s a cute, musical melody that flashes pink, like cotton candy across my mind. “I don’t even know how to respond.”

“Haven’t you looked?”

When she looks down to examine herself, I shut my eyes and conjure an image of Yankee Stadium. But when I open them again, she’s looking at me through those long lashes.

“I must be losing my touch.” She runs her hands over the front of her shirt, smoothing the fabric over her body.

I fidget, but I take the bait. “Don’t worry. You’re not. I’ve looked.” But I look again anyway. Her thin, light blue shirt, and the matching bra straps peeking over her shoulders do a phenomenal job of keeping her perfect breasts snug. Underneath, I see her ribcage and maybe even a trace of ab muscle.
Jesus help me
. “I put you at a full B cup. Maybe a small C?”

“You’re good.”

I shift, grateful the back of the chair hides my groin.
Jeter, O’Neill, Williams, Martinez
…

Juliet continues, “Even though I’ve been cursed with the small Cs, I still need dance and music in my life.” Her voice lowers. “Dancing is like breathing to me.”

“I understand.” It’s how I describe painting—natural to me, like breathing.

She looks back up at me and smiles. “So, what else did Ben say?”

And just like that, we’re back to the default—Ben. “He told me you were homecoming king and queen but you’re just friends.”

“Friends?” She scrunches her face. “Ew.”

“You really are obsessed with this guy, huh? Ever think of playing hard to get?”

“Nope.”

“At least you’re honest.” We toast to honesty, clinking our cans together. I love the way she keeps her eyes on me as she chugs her beer—

Until someone knocks on the door.

The happiness that registers on her face at the sound of that knock reminds me of a kid on Christmas morning.

“Jules?” Ben calls from the hallway.

Juliet’s eyes light up. She hands me the beer and prances to the door, and then flings it open and jumps into Ben’s arms. “I’m so happy to see you.” Her voice changes when she talks to Ben, like she’s letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Me, too.” He lifts her and swings her around. She clings to him, the lucky bastard. When he puts her down, he turns to me. “You taking care of my girl?”

His girl
. Even though I came to college to get a new start—to stay away from women and focus on repairing myself—my stomach sinks. I’ve only known
his girl
for a few hours and here I am, insanely jealous of my new roommate and Juliet’s obvious love for him.

She should be my girl
, I want to say, but instead I mumble, “I’m trying.” He doesn’t seem jealous at all. Why would he? She’s beaming at
him
, not me.

Juliet

I fall into a Ben trance at dinner, watching him smile, listening to his stories, forgetting everything around me. I don’t snap out of it until we are at the crowded RA meeting sitting on the carpet of the first floor common room.

The Resident Assistant, some douchebag who calls himself “Dolch,” calls the meeting to order. Words like “safety,” “rules,” and “respect” are so overused I zone out and lean into Ben’s big body. Dolch tells us this year’s university theme is “unity” which to me sounds terribly cliché, but I don’t care. I glue my arm to Ben’s so all the girls know he’s mine.
He will be soon enough
.

When Dolch finally ends the boring meeting, the eleven new residents of the basement squeeze into room two to commence the drinking, courtesy of Winston and his fake ID; smoking, courtesy of the room five girls; and listening to music, courtesy of the intense surround-sound stereo system Winston and Rodrigo set up.

I meet the famous duo of Rocco and Frank, the room four guys. It’s impossible to miss them—they’re giants. Frank is adorable, like an oversized kid with red hair, freckles, and green eyes that dart excitedly around the room. In contrast, Rocco is all steamy male hotness, with dark skin and black hair that falls straight to his bulky shoulders. His stare is intense, like he just stepped off the cover of a romance novel. He’s bigger than Frank and, honestly, a little scary. Along with Ben, the three of them take up half of the small room with their size. My eyes wander down their bodies as my hormones come to life making all the right places tingle.

I can’t help staring and soon realize Poppy is standing next to me doing the same. “That’s a lot of testosterone. I can almost smell it,” she says. “You should get some of that.” She pats me on the back and walks away before I can explain I’m with Ben.

I look around at the new people in my life. Winston, Megan, and Maggie look like three little pixies who practically disappear when they turn sideways. Rodrigo shows me a picture of Kiki-mo, who does resemble me, and Chase smokes with Darcy. I do a double take when I see Chase looking my way. I’m used to being looked at, but something about his stare flusters me. Maybe it’s his purple eyes. I shrug it off. He knows I’m all about Ben.

Ben
. He catches my eye and smiles.
Finally
.

My mind wanders to freshman year of high school, the day we met.

I’d moved mid-year to Evander High from a small private school in Philadelphia, and I had no idea where I was or what I was supposed to be doing. As I looked at my class schedule, I panicked. I needed Justine, but she wasn’t there. I shut my brain down and sat on a bench near the principal’s office, holding my schedule in one hand and my bent knees in the other as I rocked myself, lost in my own world.

Suddenly, Ben stood before me, and I returned to Earth. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I stopped rocking, “No.” I showed him my schedule, and he held out his hand, pulling me to my feet. As I looked into his warm eyes, I felt safe for the first time since Justine died.

“We’ll get you where you need to be.” He looked at my schedule. “Nice to meet you, Jules. I’m Ben.”

After that, we hung out all the time, but our first and only official date had been homecoming. That’s when I bared my soul and begged him for more, but he refused. It’s the only time he’s said no to me.

Friends
, I think.
How boring.
As I sink deeper into my thoughts, devising a plan to change his mind about our relationship status, I inhale the combined scent of aftershave and marijuana, and warm at the intense heat of a body behind me.

I swing around to face Chase. I huff and lift my chin. Despite their glassiness, his stoned purple eyes penetrate mine. “Go away, Train Boy. I’m trying to flirt with Ben.”

“Have you ever heard the expression, ‘barking up the wrong tree’? I think that’s what you’re doing with Ben.”

I study him before taking his red plastic cup. “I’m not barking up any trees. But if I were, Ben’s tree would be the right one.” I drink his beer without apology.

“I’m not feeling the vibe between you two. You’re too…” He moves his hands around.

“What’s that swirly thing you’re doing with your hands?”

“I’m thinking of the right word.” He stops moving his hands and points to me. “Charismatic. That’s the word.”

I grunt. “You’ve known me for half a day, Chase. And you’re high.”

“I can tell. Even after half a day. Even high.”

He looks over my shoulder, but I want his eyes back on me. He’s like the anti-Ben, but his attention is like a shot of adrenaline. “You should stop bothering me and start paying attention to your roommate. If I’m Miss Charismatic, he’s Mr. Charismatic.” He’s still looking over my shoulder.

“Looks like room three wants a piece of Mr. Charismatic, too.” I spin, almost falling over. I follow Chase’s gaze and see Ben deep in conversation with Megan. “Now those two, I can see together.”

Megan’s blonde bob swings over her tiny shoulders as she giggles and shakes her head at something Ben’s saying. He’s smiling but not laughing, keeping eye contact but not standing too close. I can’t decide if I’m angrier that Ben is talking up Megan, or that Chase pointed it out. I do know Ben, however, and Chase is right. He’s piling on the charm.

Chase’s breath warms my neck as he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Wrong tree, gorgeous.”

He lingers and I take advantage of his distraction and jab him in the gut with my elbow, but it bounces off rock hard abs. I try again, with more force, but he doesn’t react. He must have some kind of bod under there. “I hate you,” I say, and he laughs.

I shake my head and turn to walk away from Chase but run right into the wall. Except it’s not the wall, it’s Rocco. I let him grab my wrists and pull them into the air, feeling dizzy and tiny with his hands wrapped around mine. As he examines my body with this brooding, intense gaze, I’m at a loss for words.

“You have nice muscle tone,” he says. Funny, coming from Rocco this sounds like an actual compliment, not a pickup line.

“You, not so much, huh? You should work out,” I tease in a shaky voice.

Rocco calls Frank over and they blatantly discuss my body, creating a workout for me. During the course of the conversation, I learn the dynamic duo met the year before when Frank helped train Rocco for the routine that won him the Mr. New Jersey competition. Frank won’t let me pass until I promise to use the elliptical in the lounge three times a week.

In the meantime, I lose track of Ben. I shove past Chase, who’s leaning in the doorway trying to pick up some girl from upstairs. I hear them flirt as I shoot them dirty looks and push by, waving my hand in the air, half brushing them off and half waving goodbye.

First, I check room six. No Ben. I stop in the ladies’ room then walk back toward the party, peeking into one of the two doorways that open to the lounge. An institutional-looking set of couches and chairs sits on one half of the room, and the kitchen area fills the other. In the middle of the lounge, between the two entrances, Rocco and Frank’s elliptical machine and treadmill stand facing a television near a rack of free weights.

At first glance, the dim room appears empty. Then I see Ben at the kitchen table, his head resting on his arms.
My poor guy.
I shut the doors to the lounge to block out the noise and turn on the light. “Are you okay?” I ask, stroking Ben’s shoulder.