The Love Series Complete Box Set (75 page)

I slip on my robe and flip-flops and tiptoe my way to the front door. That’s when the fear takes over. I hear banging—almost as if someone is driving their shoulder into the door trying to open it.

My stomach drops and my heart thuds wildly in my chest. As my mind races through the endless and scary possibilities, I remember that Lia stowed an old baseball bat in the front closet for this exact reason. We all laughed at her craziness, but in this moment, I could hug the life out of her.

Hefting the weight of the old school, wooden Louisville Slugger up to my shoulder, I stand to the side of the door, nervously awaiting whoever is on the other side to make their way through.

The lock clicks, and as if everything is in slow motion, I watch the knob turn slowly. Bat cocked on my shoulder, I’m ready to attack, though I know I don’t stand a chance against a potential attacker. My feeble arms can barely hold up the bat. Maybe I can at least shock him and sprint past him as the door opens.

A blinding light shines in my eyes as the door cracks open—sun shining in from the huge hallway windows that open out into the courtyard. Shoot, I can’t see! Before I can do anything about it, I see legs stepping through the door.

Acting on pure instinct, I swing the bat wildly and it crashes against what I assume is a kneecap. A body falls to the floor and I lift the heavy bat above my head to get in one more solid crack before I slip past the intruder.

Arms cross above the intruder’s head, and rather than a harsh and brutish voice, a small and terrified one reaches through to my ears. “No! Please! I live here. Stop, please!” Her voice is petrified and laced with pain. “Please . . . don’t hit me again.” I drop the bat from my hands immediately as she eases her body back against the now closed door.

She’s holding her hands up in front of her in a sign of surrender and she tries to catch her breath through the pain. The bat rolls up against her outstretched legs; she grabs at her knee and winces painfully.

My hand immediately goes to cover my mouth. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Now that I know she isn’t a he and that she isn’t going to rape and kill me, I’m all apologies.

Through a veil of chestnut hair, she peeks up at me. Her brown eyes, which are covered by her hot-pink rimmed glasses, are shimmering with unshed tears. “Yeah, I think I’m okay. You just scared the crap out of me.” She rolls up the leg of her pants to reveal the huge purple bruise that I just gave her. Gasping at the sight of it, I run to the freezer to get her some ice.

Kneeling down to her side, I say, “Here, use this.” I press the half-eaten container of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey to her enormously swollen kneecap.

She just cocks an eyebrow up at me and says, “Thanks.”

“Sorry, it was all I had. I just got here yesterday.” I slink down next to her and she smiles weakly at me. “Who are you anyway?” I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not concealing it well.

“Me? I’m Peyton. I guess I’m your new roommate.” She holds out a small hand for me to shake and I just stare at it in disbelief. Why hadn’t I thought of this? Of course, the college would fill Maddy’s place. There’s no reason to let a perfectly good room go unused. I guess I just would have liked some advanced notice or something like that.

Tentatively shaking her hand, I say, “Oh, well, hi then. Sorry for busting your kneecap. I didn’t mean to go all Tonya Harding on you. I’m Melanie, by the way.” Okay so we’re not off to the best start but she seems nice enough, and if she can get over my attempted assault, I’m fairly certain she’ll think I’m nice too. Hopefully.

I stand before her and hold my hand out to help her get up from the floor. “Come on. Let me help you over to the couch.” Peyton wraps her arm around my shoulder as I wrap mine around her waist. Hobbling over the couch, she occasionally winces or gasps in pain. I guess I got her pretty good.

I put a pillow under her knee as she stretches out on the couch and get her a glass of water and some Advil from the bathroom medicine cabinet. “Here. These should help with the swelling.”

Peyton looks down at the pills, like she’s afraid to take them from me. Fine, we didn’t get off to the best start, but I’m not going to drug her or anything. I shove the pills into her hand, feeling slightly pissed off that she would think that of me.

She inspects them. Yes, she actually reads the lettering on the pills, and when she’s satisfied with the knowledge that they are, in fact, Advil and not some kind of whacky hallucinogen, she swallows them down with a gulp of water.

“Thanks, Melanie.” She hands me back the glass and scans the room, inspecting it. “It’s a nice place here. Anyone else live here besides you?” Peyton tips her chin in my direction.

Folding my legs underneath my body, I situate myself on the beat up, old arm chair across from her on the sofa. “Yeah, Cammie and Lia will be here tomorrow. They share the other room. They’re cousins actually.” And now that Peyton is here and knowing that Cammie and Lia will be back tomorrow, I’m happy that I won’t be alone any longer. I think it’ll be good for me to have my girls back.

“They nice?” She chances an investigative question.

Suddenly, I’m anxious for them to come back to the suite. I didn’t realize until just now how much I’ve missed them. “They’re the best, actually. Really sweet and funny.” A slightly nervous chuckling escapes past my lips.

Unless you’re a bitch to them.
You know, like you’re being to me right now.

“Cool. So I guess that means I’m rooming with you.” Again, her tone is cautious, on edge almost. “What happened to your old roommate? Did you bash her over the head or something? Scare her away?” She’s trying to be comical with her question, but she’s still guarded and on edge.

What the freak!? Doesn’t she realize I thought she was going to attack me?

Just as I’m about to lay into her, she breaks out laughing. Through her giggling, she says, “Oh my God! The look on your face. Please tell me that you know I’m kidding!”

I can’t hold it in any longer; laughter bubbles out of my mouth, and tears are streaming down both of our cheeks. In our fit of hysterics, I bump into her knee and she pulls back from me in pain.

“Oh no! I’m sorry.” I feel horrible. I really didn’t mean to hurt her.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m fine. Calm down.” Peyton squeezes my hand that I just placed on top of her bruised knee. “I’ll live, Melanie. We all make mistakes. We don’t usually bash our new roommates as a means of greeting them, but you know, it’s all good.” Her bright and cheery smile helps me feel a little better about my attack. The mood seems a little lighter and some of the guilt has lifted. I just don’t like the idea of inflicting pain on anyone—accidental or not.

Of course my mind drifts to Bryan and how much I know I’m going to hurt him. Peyton’s voice breaks through my mist of self-pity.

“So what really happened to your old roommate? Homesickness? Couldn’t take the cold?” Peyton shimmies back up against the couch and folds her arms across her chest as she awaits my response.

I don’t even know where to begin. It could take me two novels to explain Maddy’s story so I just opt for a simple version.

“Maddy is my best friend. She had to move home.” I shrug my shoulders as I add, “Health reasons.” I can see Peyton and I being friends, but I don’t feel right divulging Maddy’s past. It’s not mine to tell.

A genuine look of concerns flashes across Peyton’s very pretty face. “Oh no. I hope she’s going to be okay.” Her hand is clenched at her chest and I can tell that she means her words. There’s no false pretense in her tone.

“Yeah, she’s going to be just fine.” I know Maddy will be more than just fine, but I can’t help that I’m going to miss her terribly.

“So then it’s you and me, huh?” she repeats her earlier question regarding who she’ll be rooming with.

“It looks that way. Hey, listen. I’m really sorry about that.” I eye her knee and then the door indicating my earlier attack. “I wasn’t expecting you at all, so I thought someone was breaking in. I promise I’m not usually violent.” My lips curl at the corners and I hope that my self-deprecation will help keep the mood light.

It does, marginally at least. Peyton smirks back at me and lowers her now ice-cream-covered leg to the floor. I move immediately to take the container away and bring her a damp cloth to clean the mess.

“Thanks. I think I’ll survive.” Peyton wipes up the sticky mess and a bit more of the tension fades away. “Are those yours?” She points to the boxed set of the entire
Sex and the City
series that is strewn about the coffee table.

“Yes. I love them.” I can’t help but gush over my girls. I love them all, and while most women identify with Carrie—she is the main character, after all—I feel very connected to Charlotte and her quest for perfection. I never share that with anyone. They just think I love the show for all the hunky men. They’re not so bad either, but for me the real draw is Charlotte.

Peyton reaches out for the DVD case and reads the back of it. “Hmm, never seen it.”

“What? You’ve never seen this show?” I try my best not to sound like Gary Coleman, with the ‘whatchotalkinbout’ but I’m completely shocked that she has never seen
Sex and the City.

Peyton just shrugs her shoulders and places the box back on the coffee table. “No, sorry. Just not much of a television watcher, I guess. I’m kind of a book worm.” She adjusts her hot-pink glasses as she says the last part. “My nose has been in a book since I knew that letters made up words. And I’ve spent the better part of the last three years working my ass off for the Whitman grant for grad students.”

Huh? Did she just say grad school?

She registers the look of confusion on my face and my furrowed brow and continues her explanation. “I’m actually here starting grad school a semester early. I was awarded a huge grant and I wanted to start right away. They accepted me into the English Lit program and I got a job at the student tutoring center. I searched up and down for an apartment, but since it was mid-year, almost everything was taken or it involved moving into a filthy frat house.”

I wonder if she looked at Reid’s old room. Talk about coincidence.

“Luckily for me, this place opened up at the last minute,” she adds quickly and smiles over at me.

Yeah, lucky for you.

She realizes the impact of her last words and back tracks a little. “Not that it’s lucky for you, I mean. Crap, I’m sorry about your best friend. I was just trying to tell you a little about me.” A furrowed brow and soft words convey her apology.

With a deep cleansing breath, I decide to let the craziness that has been my morning—hell, that has been the last few weeks of my life, fade away.

It hasn’t been a perfect start with Peyton, but considering that we’ll be sharing a room for at least the next four months, I smile brightly at her and hold the DVD box up in between us. “Feel like telling me more about yourself while we watch this? I’ve seen them more than I care to admit, but I’ll start from the beginning if you want.”

An equally bright smile graces Peyton’s pretty face as she says, “Sure. That would be really nice.” She angles her head back to the door where her bags sit. “I can un-pack later.”

I bounce out of my seat and pop a disc into the DVD player. As the bubbly notes of the opening theme song play out, I offer to make us some breakfast. Of course, Mom made sure that the fridge was stocked before she left. God, I love that woman. If it wasn’t for her, Peyton and I would be eating melted ice cream and stale chips for breakfast.

As I hand her a plate of toast with jelly and some fresh fruit, Peyton says, “Thanks” and then her attention is immediately drawn to the sparkly pair of Manolo Blanik’s that grace Carrie’s feet. “Oh my goodness, those are the prettiest shoes I’ve ever seen.” And then when some shirtless piece of man-pie walks across the screen, Peyton nearly chokes on her orange juice. “Why on Earth have I never seen this show?”

We share a loud laugh and spend the rest of the morning getting to know each other, all the while getting lost in the wonder that is
Sex and the City.

It’s good to focus my attention on something other than Bryan, but when Aiden confronts Carrie about going behind his back with Mr. Big, I’m thrown full force back into my own world of problems—texts of kisses and cheating girlfriends. Forcing my brain to think happier thoughts, I get lost in the memory of mine and Bryan’s first date.

Chapter 4

Friday, September 14, 2012

I’ve been working at the computer lab for just about three weeks now, and so far everything seems to be going really well. I get to spend lots of time with Bryan, who oddly works just about every shift that I work—a part of his master plan to wear me down as he promised, I’m sure.

His plan has been somewhat effective. He buys me coffee every morning that we have class together and caffeine is most definitely a quick way to my heart. He also plays the dorky card every now and then too. Just last week when he was passing out papers during class, he put a sticky note on top of mine. On it, he wrote, “Go out with me” with two little squares. Next to one was the word “yes” and the other “no.” A bit adolescent? Sure, but sweet nonetheless.