Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (25 page)

“You make them sound like the enemy.”

“Aren’t they?”

“I’ve hadn’t thought like that before.”

“You’ve never needed to.”

“I’ve never felt like this before, Megs.”

“I know.” She pulls me into a hug. “I’m sorry, babe. He’ll realize his mistake eventually. They always do.”

“I don’t even care about that – at this point – I don’t care if I ever see him again, I just want to know.
Why?
Why me? Why didn’t he call? Did I do something? Was it
me
? Why didn’t he just talk to me? Was I not worth a conversation? I… I just want answers.”

“If you’re not a lawyer, I don’t know what the hell you’re meant for in life.”

“I don’t know anymore. I have some thinking to do.”

Her back straightens. “You don’t know if you want to be a lawyer?” She slips into the chair across from me. Letting out a breath, she sighs. “Whoa.”

“I just need to think some things out.”

“You’ve wanted to be a lawyer your whole life.”

“I don’t know which way is up anymore. I really don’t feel like arguing for a living.”

“Do me a favor, Bee. Don’t make any choices now. Finish your classes here and then pick. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

I glance up, meeting her eyes once more. “I can’t argue for a living, I have no fight left in me.”

She nods, pulling me into her arms. The comfort alone slightly relaxes me. Her hair still has that tinge of flower smell to it.

“I think this calls for wine,” Meggie mumbles on my shoulder.

“It’s wine o’clock already?”

“It’s Wine Wednesday!”

I smile. “Meg, it’s Thursday.”

“Really?” She glances around, confused.

“Yes.” I giggle, for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“Crap, I missed Spanish again.”

“You should really drop that class.”

“You doubt me, Swanson?” She walks into the kitchen.

“Uh, yes.”

“Tsk, tsk, no faith,” she states with a shake of her head and fake disappointment.

“I don’t believe in faith. I believe in hard work and dedication.”

“I’m sorry, you lost me at ‘I don’t have faith’,” she says from inside the open fridge.

“Whatever.” I lean back into the couch.

“I have some bad news,” Meggie calls from over the ledge in the kitchen.

I twist. “What is it?”

“We are out of wine.”

“Oh no, call 911,” I deadpan.

“I’m serious, Becca. We finished the last bottle last night watching Princess Diaries.”

I nod. “Good movie.”

“Becca, focus!”

“Oh, in that case, go knock on some doors or something.” It is said in total jest.

“Great idea!” My best friend swings the front door open, propping it with a stray boot before moving to the door across the hall. I wipe my cheeks and run some fingers through my hair before following her.

Vanessa, the girl from my Spanish class freshman year, opens the door. Dressed in sweats, her hair is one huge knot, she has old mascara under her eyes, and her shirt says ‘No Pictures Please.’ I can’t help but giggle while Meggie continues to ask her for some wine.

“I only have a six-pack of Bud Light somewhere.”

“Great!” Meggie shrieks. “Bring it to the game room in ten…” She pauses. “Make that fifteen minutes for you. You have a little something—” She leans over and wipes something from Vanessa’s cheek.

“White out. I’ve been studying all night,” she tries to explain.

“Well, girl, you deserve some down time. Game room in
fifteen
.”

Leaning against the doorframe, I watch as she continues to knock on the rest of the corridor doors and asks them to bring their alcohol to the common room in ten minutes. She pauses before Tom’s door.

“Maybe you should invite Clark Kent. He likes you better, anyway.”

“Why me?”

“Things are kind of awkward between us now.”

“Oh, really. I wonder why,” I tease, exaggerating my words slightly.

“You’re a jerk, Beck-ster. You might want to go put a bra on before knocking or he might get the wrong idea.”

Glancing down, I see what she’s talking about. My tee shirt is thin, it’s cooler here in the hall, and well—My
headlights
are on. I fold my arms across my chest and head back to change.

Ten minutes later, we wander down into the game room. The pool table begins to fill with everyone’s extra liquor and beer, creating a big potluck of alcoholism. Meggie has become the ever-present social butterfly, going around and welcoming everyone. She always amazes me. Her ideas are insane, but they always seem to pan out better than I expect. Where Meggie has a will, Meggie will find a way. When she has something in her sights, there is nothing she will not do to obtain it. I’d like to think I was like that, too, but deep down I know the only aspect of my life I have under control is my schoolwork. Even that is starting to wind down. It seems my homework is getting more harshly graded and test scores are in the low 90’s. The more I try to focus, the more my mind tries escaping it. It always circles back to thinking about John. Because no matter how smart I am, I can’t for the life of me figure out what went wrong.

“I’d like to thank you guys for coming.” Meggie cuts in front of the pool table, her voice demanding attention. “Now, let’s make each other a drink!”

There are a few hoots of approval before everyone swarms the table. Cups spread to the masses as a few guys begin setting up beer pong on the Ping-Pong table. Someone hands me a red Solo cup. I glance over. Tom is beside me. He was already in bed when I knocked on the door so I didn’t think he would actually come. I take the full cup from him.

“Thanks.” I don’t know who is making these drinks, but it is just a mash up of everything on the table. I think I taste watermelon, maybe some vodka, and definitely beer. It’s the strangest concoction one could possibly find, but it doesn’t taste completely bad.

“You want to play next?” Tom nudges me.

“What? Pong?” My chin nods toward the table.

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I don’t want to make you look bad.” I smile from behind my cup.

His head falls back as he laughs. “Make
me
look bad?”

I let him get it all out because I know in a few minutes I’m going to make him eat his words. “Yup.”

He leans in closer to me. “This I gotta see.”

“It’s on, Clark Kent. Let’s do this.” I start walking over to the converted pong table.

Tom is at my side in seconds, “Clark Kent?”

“Yeah, the glasses. It was just a joke.” I honestly didn’t realize I said the nickname aloud.

Our turn finally comes. We approach the table in giggles. I can’t even remember what he said but it’s hilarious. It must be my second or third drink from Meggie’s bartending concoctions. We begin racking the cups in a triangle formation and fill them up with whatever beer is lying around.

The two guys across from us snicker to each other before turning to us. “Ladies first.”

I play coy, smiling at them. “Aw, thank you.” Turning to Tom, I lean close and whisper, “Watch this.”

My neck cracks from side to side, and I pop up on my toes twice before I assume the stance. I flick my wrist and in one swift motion the pong ball swoops into the middle cup. They look at me, disbelieving, before the one on the left mutters, “Beginner’s luck.”

“Yeah.” I smirk. “That must be it.”

Once they pick up the cup and toss the ball back, I square up again. This time the ball lands in the cup directly beside the other. The one with empty hands grabs this cup. I wink at Tom as they roll the ball back once again. Slowly, I manage to get them down to two cups when I mess up my last shot. It bounces off the rim and one of them catches it.

During their turn, they only got the cup at the very top of our triangle before striking out. Tom’s turn comes. He tries to copy my stance, but his shot is too long. The other team cracks some obnoxious joke before they miss, too. I don’t mind. It will all be over soon.

I flick my wrist and nab the second to last cup. It appears Tom’s shouting has attracted some attention. I barely even recognized the little crowd beginning to form. Must be this weird watermelon drink. Even with my hazy vision, I manage to end the game with a ball in the last cup.

Tom screams embarrassingly loud above the other shouts before picking me up and spinning me around.

“Whoa there, Tommy boy. Spinning and drinking is not a good combo.”

“Sorry, that was the first game I’ve ever won.”

I laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, where did you learn to do that?”

“I have an older brother. You learn things. It doesn’t look so good on a resume, though.”

His head falls backward, laughing. “Whose next? Who wants to get their ass whooped by my girl?”

I laugh as they line up. Tonight is going to be a long night.

I win five or six games. It’s hard to keep count when things start getting blurry. People begin filtering out before I tire of playing pong. Tom mentions something about class tomorrow. It's time I call it a night, too.

My hazy eyes turn towards the pool table and our stash has diminished to nothing. Scanning the room, I find bright red hair—Meggie? And is that Troy? The two are locked in a kiss or a hug, I can’t quite tell. How do they always manage to find each other? I guess when you have a real connection there is no escaping it. Tom leads me out the door and down the hall.

“Thomas, I’m fine. I don’t need a chaperone to walk three steps.”

“Three
flights
of steps,” he corrects.

“Well, excuse me, Clark.”

He smiles again. “I just want to make sure you get home okay.”

“It’s not like I can get lost.”

“I didn’t think you would get lost. You deserve to be walked home.”

“You’re not going to try any funny stuff, are you?” I wag a finger in his direction.

Another smile. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Okay, good.” I think I catch his smile falter, when I practically topple over, onto him. He places his arm around me guides us up the remaining steps. With each passing one, it feels like they are swimming underneath me. The hallway appears to go on forever. The window at the end of the corridor seems smaller than usual, and the walls are closing in around me.

“Where are your keys?”

I spin around, falling into the door. We made it to the dorm.
When did that happen?

“Um, in my pocket.” I slip my hand in and whip them out. “See?”

He pries them from my hand as I dangle them in front of his face. Tom opens the door with ease and turns to me. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I can get myself to bed. Goodnight, sir.” I salute him and try to close the door. It won’t close. My eyes shift down to see his foot stuck between the door and the frame.

“You are not fine. Just get into bed and I’ll leave.”

“Fine.” I stomp into my bedroom. My shoes are kicked off and go flying somewhere in the darkness.

He flicks on my light. “Lie on your side. I don’t want you choking on vomit.”

“I’m not that drunk, dude,” I mutter, rolling on my side to humor him.

“You couldn’t walk up the stairs just now.”

“What are you, a cop?” The words sting me more than him. Tears fill my eyes and I will them away. At least wait until Tom leaves, I tell myself.

“Are you okay, Becca?” He kneels before my bed.

I sniffle. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” His face is closer this time.

“Tom, why are guys such assholes?”

He flinches like I smacked him before recovering. “Any guy who treats you like crap doesn’t deserve you.”

“Everyone always says that, but you can’t control your heart.”

“You can try.”

“I have.” My voice is a whisper in the quiet room.

He peers at me for a second. I blink and feel something soft against my lips. When my eyes open again, Tom’s kissing me. I struggle to sit up in bed. Tom stays on his knees before me.

He finally pulls away. I can’t help but stare at him. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

I nod. Tom gets to his feet and turns off the light. I listen until the front door close before I sink back into the covers, too confused to even think.

Eighteen… Nineteen… Twenty.