We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (27 page)

“Is she the one who has the framed photo of the Ronald and Nancy on her piano amongst the family photos?”

“That’s her. When I made Presidential Scholar and received the signed letter from Reagan, she asked for a copy for the downstairs hall.” Ben beamed. He loved his letter. The original sat framed on his desk back in the dorm.

“Now I know where you get your love for the Gipper.” Quinn laughed. “It’s genetic. You can’t help yourself.”

“Q, don’t get him riled up. You know the two of you will end up squabbling over politics. Hasn’t it gotten old yet?” I prepared myself to play referee again.

“Fine,” they both said at the same time.

“Dukakis,” Ben mumbled under his breath.

“I heard you!” Quinn shot him a dirty look. “This is why we could never live together in peace.”

“I say we go look at the apartment this evening.” Maggie ignored the guys’ glowering contest.

“Right after we burn those disgusting germ riddled things on your feet.” I pointed at the slimy green fur-balls a cat coughed up and she decided to wear as shoes. I nudged one with the toe of my tennis shoe. The plastic eyeball gave up the fight and fell to the floor. “The sooner the better. Let Kermit rest in peace.”

I looked around the table at this funny group of friends, smiling as I thought how improbable it was we found each other.

Ben squeezed my hand before kissing the back.

Even crazier, I found my forever.

Gilliam Morrow, 20

American History

Junior

What moment do you regret most in college?

Not speaking up when I had the chance changed everything. I assumed I had all the time in the world. We were young and our futures were endless.

No decision was so important it could change the course of my life.

I learned the hardest lesson by doing nothing and waiting for the perfect moment. Only later did I realize the perfect time had passed.

My cautious nature, playing it safe, cost me everything.

I waited too long.

“Maggie May” ~ Rod Stewart

SMOKE POURED OUT
of the apartment’s kitchen and triggered the alarm in the living room.

“What smells so terrible?” I waved my arms above my head, dispersing the cloud around the squawking smoke detector. After knocking it open, I pulled out the battery to silence it.

“I’m baking,” Maggie hollered from a spot in front of the oven, the source of the smell and smoke. In her oven-mitt covered hand, she held a tray of charred disks.

“Why are you putting hockey pucks in the oven?”

“They’re biscuits. For strawberry shortcakes later.” She frowned at the tray. “Or they were. I think the oven temperature is wrong.”

I sniffed the so-called biscuits. “Did you make them from scratch?”

“I used the scary pop kind.”

I raised an eyebrow in question.

“The ones in the tube. I hate sticking the spoon into the crease and waiting for the explosion. It makes me jump every single time.”

I took the tray from her and tipped it into the garbage can. “Maybe you should stick to chocolate chip cookie dough.”

“You know we never get to baking the actual cookies when we make dough.” Her sad eyes followed the sad trail of each puck as it fell into the trash.

“That’s my point exactly. Maybe avoid the oven all together.”

“Nice. Really nice.” She hit me with the dish towel, making a sad thwap sound upon contact.

“You need to twist it to make it snap.” I grabbed and twisted the other towel, aiming for her ass.

The towel snapped, creating a satisfying sound when it contacted with her shorts.

“Ouch! Gilliam Morrow. You’re mean.” She rubbed her butt. I wanted to do it for her, but the boundaries of our friendship prevented me.

“Here, let’s hug it out.” I scooped her up in my arms and squeezed. She wiggled and squirmed, making me mindful of my body’s reaction to having her close.

I couldn’t decipher her muffled mumbles from where I had her head pressed against my chest. “Speak clearly. I can’t understand what you want if you don’t enunciate.”

She pinched my side. I held her tighter. Her teeth nipped my pec, too close to my nipple for comfort.

“Ow. You bit me.” I released her.

“You were smothering me.”

“With my friendship. Only with my friendship.” I rubbed my chest and looked down. “You left a mark on my favorite Jane’s Addiction shirt. Does drool stain?”

“Are your pillowcases stained? Because you drool like a fountain.” She scampered around the breakfast bar, out of towel and smothering range.

When I lunged at her, she squealed and ran into the living room.

“Maggie May, you know you’re the drooler. Next time we watch a movie, you have to bring your own pillow,” I called after her.

Smoke still lingered in the air. I opened the windows, letting in fresh air and sunshine. The day promised to be warm and sunny. A perfect afternoon to do nothing on the roof where we’d set up a bunch of beach chairs and a hibachi. It was also where the girls decided they had enough privacy to sunbathe.

Sometimes they even went topless.

I’d gathered this information from their conversations, but had yet to witness it for myself. Most of my time I spent at rehearsal or the print shop.

However, today I had the afternoon off.

“Maggie, are you free this afternoon?” I strolled down the hall to her room.

Her door stood partly open and I lightly knocked as I pushed it open. Not loud enough apparently.

With her back to me, she stood bent at the waist, exposing her purple underwear with green polka dots as she pulled on her cut-off shorts.

My new favorite pattern.

After getting an eye-full, I quickly yanked the door closed, and knocked louder.

“Hold on! I’m changing.” Her voice carried through the wood.

“Okay.” My voice cracked. I rested my head on the door, softly banging my forehead for good measure.

“What?” Her long hair stuck out at funny angles when she opened her door. Her shirt’s tag poked out the front of her chest.

“Your shirt’s on backward and inside out.”

She tucked her chin and looked at her chest. “Turn around.”

I obliged. Behind me I heard the soft rustle of fabric as she fixed her shirt. A foot or two away, she wore only her bra. I shut my eyes and named various ski mountains back home, willing myself not to get hard. Ajax, Buttermilk, Snowmass, Steamboat, Vail . . .

“Okay. Decent. Did you come to smother me some more?”

I faced her and did a double-check of her chest. Her nipples perked through the thin fabric of her tank top. I scratched my ear trying to remember why I’d come to her room.

“If you are thinking about smothering me, can you at least move out of the way? I need to go to work.”

Right. Maggie and Lizzy both worked at a local café as baristas. The upside? They often brought home day old baked goods and sandwiches. The downside? They always smelled like coffee after their shifts.

“Are you working this afternoon?”

“I’m off at two. Why?”

“It’s supposed to be sunny and warm all day. I thought we could hang out on the roof.”

Her face lit up like the sun itself. “That’s the best idea ever. I’m over all the rain we had last weekend.”

“You know you live in the Pacific Northwest, right?”

“Har har. Remember, I grew up spending summers on the beach here. I know it can be sunny.” She tucked her hair into a loopy ponytail as she gathered her keys and purse. “I’m going to be late, but rally the troops, and I’ll see you on the roof later.”

“It’s a date.” The words slipped out without thought. “No, not a date-date. More like a plan.”

“You’re weird.” She waved and walked out the front door.

My plans to become a rock god and be slick had evidently failed. I collapsed on the couch. When it came to Maggie, I either said something weird—making things awkward—or I did stupid shit in front of her as had been my pattern from our first meeting.

Quinn pushed open the sliding doors to his room. His hair stood up in all directions, messier than Maggie’s had been. In a pair of old man style pajama pants and no shirt, there was no doubt we’d woken him up. “What’s all this ruckus about sun and roofs?”

“It’s going to be hot today. Thought we could drag our pale bodies to the tar beach and hang out if anyone is around.”

Quinn ran his hands over his face. “I can see right through your suggestion, man. But I’m going to give you credit for your earnest hetero attempt at game.” He patted my head on his way past the couch.

“Gee, thanks for the approval. Just friends hanging out.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Morrow. Someday you might convince yourself the truth right in front of you is all a lie.”

He amazed me. Obviously barely awake and he was already more astute and articulate than most of the guys I knew.

He shuffled into the kitchen. “What died in here?”

“Maggie played with the oven again.”

“Oh, no. What did she destroy this time? I had no idea brownies could smell horrible. Burnt chocolate smells like ass.”

I snorted.

“Not that I would know,” he said.

“Sure. Okay.” I held up my hands. “Not judging.”