Dearest Series Boxed Set (34 page)

I
don’t know
what the fuck is wrong with me, but I can’t do this. I want to have sex with her. God, do I want to, but she’s beautiful and luminous, and I think if I fuck her, I’ll somehow tarnish her. Because that’s all this’ll be, sex in a dark club, and she’s not the kind of girl I want to use and abuse for one night.

Shit. I sound like a chick.

I’ve never,
ever
turned down sex before, but I know how I treat women, and I don’t want to do this to her. She doesn’t even know my name.

“Babe, really, we don’t have to do this,” I say against her mouth, unable to peel my body off of hers.

I’m trying to think of a way to stop our momentum when the door rattles with a knock.

Danielle jerks back as someone yells, “Open up. I gotta get my shit.”

Danielle leaps off me and races around the couch, grabbing her clothes. Her long hair is tangled around her, and the only thing I can do is sit here and watch. Her pale skin looks radiant against the black of her clothes.

“Hold on a sec,” she yells as she flings my shirt at me. She sees my expression and stops. “You okay?”

I clear my throat and nod as I stand to tug on my clothes.

When she’s dressed, she turns to see that my shirt is on, and she unlatches the door. The blonde on the other side looks pissed. I think she’s one of the bartenders.

“Sorry,” Danielle says, looking genuinely remorseful.

“It’s about fucking time.” The girl checks me out, her eyes traveling slowly up my body. She smiles seductively, apparently not caring that I’m here with someone else or that Danielle is watching her flirt with me. The woman unwraps her black apron from her waist as though she’s doing a striptease, and I can see the tension in Danielle’s body.

I walk up to my little angel, throw my arm around her shoulder and kiss her forehead.

“Yeah, sorry. My girl and I got carried away.”

The blonde rolls her eyes. But the smile on Danielle’s face damn near breaks open my chest.

It’s crazy that I’m feeling like this because I don’t know anything about her except that we have volcanic chemistry, but I’d like to know her, and for that I need more time.

Yeah, I definitely need her for more than one night.

* * *

M
y biggest problem
at the moment is my raging hard-on. We walk slowly back through the dark hall, and I rack my brain to think of something to lose the boner before we make it to the bar.

Then it comes to me: Will Ferrell.

Better.

The moment we reach the dance floor, Danielle pulls away. “I need to run to the bathroom. Can we meet up at the bar in ten minutes?” She looks unsure, and there are a thousand things I want to tell her, but the music is deafening.

I nod. I know I should kiss her. Reassure her. She must think I’m a dick. Most girls do after we hook up. Or they want more. I can never find the happy medium except for Natasha, but a steady diet of her is like eating Starbursts for every meal.

I’m about to ask Danielle for her number in case we get separated, but she turns and darts through the crowd.

When she gets back, we’ll make plans for dinner tomorrow night. I want to know more about this girl.

I watch her disappear into the darkness. It doesn’t escape me that I’ve been calling her baby all night. There’s only one other girl I ever called that.

“Jax!” I turn to find Jenna, my sister’s roommate. “Where the fuck have you been?”

She’s drunk. She’s hysterical when she’s sober, but when she’s drunk, my friends piss their pants. Her boyfriend Ryan sidles up to her and drapes his arm around her. If I was dating Jenna, I’d want the world to know it too. She’s gorgeous. But don’t let the blonde hair and hot bod fool you. She’s smart as hell.

“Thanks for the party, man,” I tell her boyfriend. Ryan had a shit ton of people over at his house to celebrate before we came to the club.

He grins. “My pleasure. Dude, you should come over next Sunday. We’re watching the Notre Dame game, and the girls are making us lunch.”

“Sounds great. I’m there.”

Ryan is the lead singer of some indie band. I can never remember their name, but I heard them play once. They’re really good. By the end of their show, girls were tossing their clothes on stage.

He and Jenna have been together a while. At least a couple of years. I never understood it before now, how he could have girls lining up for him after a gig, but he always went home with his girlfriend. He deserves some kind of medal for his commitment. But these days, I kind of get maybe wanting something more. No doubt it’s a sign of the apocalypse.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Hannah.

“I need your help! Got locked out. Chloe’s inside. Left something on the stove. Where are you? I’m freaking out.”

Shit. Hannah is a great mom, but she can be a total space cadet. Chloe is probably asleep, but this isn’t good.

Her texts keep coming.

“Can’t get hold of building manager.”

“What if food on stove burns?”

“Chloe’s dad went out of town.”

“What do I do?”

Goddamn it, Hannah. She and her husband argued all week, and he leaves just in time for this to happen.

“Dude, I gotta go,” I tell Ryan. “See you next weekend.” I do the dude slap on the shoulder and head toward the exit.

My phone lights up again.
“I can hear her crying. She’s afraid of the dark.”

Ah, hell.

I text back. “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Even though she’s a good twenty-five minutes away.

Once I make it on the street, I’m about to hail a cab when a red Mustang pulls up. It’s Natasha. I told her to join us if she was around.

“I need a ride home. It’s an emergency.” I hop in the car. I don’t even have to explain. Her wheels screech, and she honks, making a dozen people jump out of her way.

And then I remember Danielle.

Fuck!

H
alf an hour
ago I had the most intense sexual experience of my life with Jax, and now he’s gone. I see some friends and a couple of my roommates at the bar but no Jax. I’ve been scanning the crowd like my life depends on it, and he’s nowhere to be found.

I fight back tears.

This is stupid. I knew this was just sex. Shit, he didn’t even ask my name. Why would I be dumb enough to think he’d somehow want more with a girl who gave it up without even a proper introduction? He probably thinks I’m a tramp who puts out every weekend.

Wait. He tried to stop me from going all the way. Maybe he wasn’t into me after all. How embarrassing. God, I feel like a total loser.

I find Travis, who looks around me like I’m missing something. “Where’d he go?”

I shrug, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the tears back. Travis’s head tilts down, and he scrutinizes my face. All of a sudden, he looks pissed.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No! Of course not. He was amazing. I came like a fucking category-five hurricane.”

Travis laughs so loudly that people around us stop to stare. “Okay.” He says it as though it has five syllables. “So why do you look like someone peed in your Wheaties?”

“Can we go? I’ll explain if we can get out of here.”

He makes a sad face, like he’s humoring me, and I give him the finger, making him laugh. He throws his arm around my neck, gives me a noogie, and drags me out to the street. Because I look miserable, he decides the only proper way to dish is over pancakes, so we stop off at the I-Hop around the corner, and once we’re safely in a booth, I spill my guts.

When I’m done, Travis raises his eyebrows. “Let me get this straight. He tried to talk you
out
of doing the deed?”

I feel mortified, but I answer the question. “Yeah.”

“But then he acted like you were together when that girl came in?”

“I guess.”

“And you had a screaming orgasm?”

My face burns ten shades of red. “Yes.”

Travis grins widely and runs his hands through his hair. “Shit, girl. I think he likes you.”

I snort in disbelief. “Did you miss the part where he didn’t ask for my name or phone number and then ran like hell when we were done?”

Travis frowns. “That is a tad confusing.”

“No shit.”

He takes a sip of his water and then runs his finger over the condensation. “Okay, this may not be what you want to hear, but the whole point of the down-and-dirty one-night stand was to get your mind off of Reid. Did it work?”

That’s an easy question to answer. “Reid who?”

He laughs and then takes another swig of his drink.

I shake my head. “The thing about Reid is he couldn’t find my clit if it had a neon sign and balloons attached to it.”

Water shoots from Travis’ mouth, and I have to reach around and pat him on the back to keep him from choking.

By the time our food comes, Travis is no long in danger of aspirating. We eat our stacks of pancakes in comfortable silence. When we’re done, he pays the check. It’s pointless to try to give him money. He’ll just stick it in my dresser or purse or closet when I’m not looking.

Travis nudges me with his elbow. “Wanna come back to my place?”

“Yeah, is that okay?” I feel weird about going back to my room after I told Jenna we’d hang out tonight. I didn’t even try to find her. I know I’m being a sucky roommate.

“Course. I’ll even let you spoon me, and you know I hate to be the little spoon.”

I laugh. “Thanks. You’re my teddy bear. What would I do without you?”

He pulls me into another head lock. “I know this was tough, sweets, but in a week, you’ll be over it. Look on the bright side. You totally told off Reid and that bitch. You had this major breakthrough, a hot little hookup, and a fab meal with yours truly. In my book, this was a great night.”

I smile up at him. “You’re right.”

I
n my head
, it was so much more than oral sex.

Jax looms larger than life in my fantasies. I can see every erotic moment play out in the low light of the lava lamps, but in my mind, we do it on every surface in that room.

I’ve always liked sex okay even though no one ever really did it for me. Until last Saturday, my best orgasms came courtesy of my battery-operated buddy. It was like I was batting clean up for the home run. I’d just go home, break out my vibrator, and finish it off properly. And the guy was none the wiser.

But with Jax… I clench my thighs just thinking about him. I groan at how pathetic I’m being. Our hookup was so, so hot, but then he was gone. I’m still kicking myself for running off to the bathroom, but I can’t justify why he disappeared the moment my back was turned.

As much as I want to pretend it didn’t mean anything, that it was all for recreational purposes, my chest aches as I remember standing there like an ass, looking for him in the crowd.

It doesn’t help that Reid never went down on me. He seemed offended if I ever suggested it, and he didn’t seem to like blow jobs, which I never understood. I thought all guys liked that.

“Danielle. Are you listening?” My mother’s small voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I mumble into the phone. Like how I can’t stop thinking about the guy I hooked up with this weekend who took off like Vin Diesel in
The Fast & The Furious
before I could tell him my name.

#SoFuckingEmbarrassing

My mom tsks at me. “Honey, stop being afraid. Live a little.”

How does she arrive here from my one comment? I told her I was worried about her, and this is where the conversation ends up. I call it the “Life Lessons 101” convo. The one where she tries to jam in every piece of wisdom she’s ever learned in a ten-minute chat.

“Danielle, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you need to live without regret.”

My stomach churns.

I thought that’s what I was doing. I thought that’s what Jax was all about. Taking a chance. Shedding that good-girl persona for one night.
Then why do I feel so miserable?

“I should be closer to you,” I say under my breath.

What if she gets sick again? What if she needs someone to take care of her? But she won’t even entertain the idea of me transferring to a school near home.

She laughs in my ear. “I’m in remission. I’m great knowing that you’re where you need to be, and now that you’re taking some art classes, I think you’re going to be happier. I never thought business was right for you. Stop trying to fit your square peg in a round hole, dear.” She laughs again, making me wish I could see her, only her laptop camera stopped working last week so we can’t Skype.

I don’t have the heart to tell her that I couldn’t work the art class into my schedule.

She sighs, and I know there’s more coming. “Honey, you should curse more. It feels fucking good every once in a while.”

“Mom!” I know cancer changes you, but my mom dropping F-bombs is something I’ll never get used to.

“What?” She feigns innocence. “Dance in the rain. Fool around with a good-looking boy who’s not your type.”

My face flushes again. Oh my God.
Been there. Done that.

“Mom, stop. You’re embarrassing me.” Nothing freaks me out more than talking about guys, kissing, or sex with my mother. I used to think she was shy too, but since the cancer, she lets it all hang out.

“Don’t feel ashamed. Embrace it. Stop feeling sorry for me. Figure out what you want, and go after it. That’s what college is for. If you find you don’t like your major, change it. But don’t live quietly. No regrets, okay? Promise me.”

I’m surprised when fat tears roll down my face. Knowing that my mother, the only person I have on the planet, almost died reaches into a part of me I didn’t know existed. I never cried when she was sick. I thought she needed me to be strong. I held it in until we got word she was in remission, and then I bawled until my eyes nearly swelled shut. I was never a big crier before that, but I’ve had a hard time shutting down those floodgates since then.

I sniffle. “No regrets. I promise.” I pull the phone away from my face to take a deep breath. “Mom?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you, and I’m really proud of you. You’re the best parent I could have had.”

Fortunately, she skips the joke about how she’s my only parent. Which isn’t true, of course. I have a father somewhere. Or at least he’s the one who deposited sperm, played house until I was ten and then took off because he “couldn’t handle the stress.” Whatever that means.

“Sweetheart, you’ve made it easy. I love you.”

* * *

D
espite the pep
talk from my mom, the week starts out painful, every class a drag, every shift at work irritating.

By Wednesday, though, I no longer want to dropkick Laura. She seems to be picking up her end of this partnership and is actually helping around the art lab. She’s a techie and can solve any student’s software issues in the time it takes me to identify the problem.

Since we coordinate everyone else’s schedules, we get the choice spots, so I take a few midday slots each week. I use my time to finish some new designs for Professor Zinzer, who stops by on his way out each day.

Zin is cute. He’s older, maybe in his late sixties, and wears a different-colored bow tie every day of the week.

“Ms. Hart, now don’t be offended by this, but are you sure you’re a business student?”

His question surprises me. I brace myself for what I’m sure will be some kind of insult because I know my grades haven’t always been great. My business professors are so nitpicky and annoying. They’ll love my presentations but dock me a full letter grade on projects because of my clothes or the streaks in my hair. They want me to wear conservative clothes and tie my hair up in a bun. #HellNo At least I look pretty normal when I’m hanging in the art department.

“I’m sorry, sir, what?”

“Your work for me is spectacular. I’m wondering if you’re not a pro masquerading as a student.”

Exhaling in relief, I smile. “You’re too kind, but I can assure you that I’m very much a student.”

Zin drags a nearby chair to my desk and sits. He glances around the bustling lab and then lowers his voice. “I don’t say this often because the kids around here are usually full of their own virtue, but I wanted to let you know that you have a lot of natural artistic talent. Your drawings are spectacular and your graphic design top-notch.” He scratches his chin. “You know, if you ever want to audit some courses in my little nook of the universe, I could make that happen.”

I knew he was happy with my brochures, but I’m a little floored by his compliment. I rewrote his marketing materials, drew some original artwork, scanned them in, tweaked the colors in Photoshop, and had everything printed out for his approval before he asked. But I figured that’s what the job called for.

“Thank you, Professor. I’d really like that.” Actually, I’d love it.

After only two weeks of business classes, none of which have been particularly inspiring, I’d be crazy to pass up his offer even if it means my schedule will be jam-packed.
Then I wouldn’t have to lie to my mom.

He reaches for a laptop and pulls up a screen of class listings.

“Some of these are full, but take a look and see what catches your eye. See me tomorrow with your top three choices, and we’ll go from there and figure out what we can work into your schedule.”

My day gets better when I bump into Jenna on the way home. We grab some mochas, and she surprises me when she loops her arm through mine as we walk down the street like we’re the oldest of friends.

“Okay, girl. I know we haven’t had a chance to hang out, and I want the scoop. Dish.”

“That’s a little broad, Jenna.” I laugh. “What do you want to know?”

“Any hot men in your life? I love Ryan, but sometimes I need to live vicariously through my friends. Plus, I’m taking this romance writing class this semester, and I’m out of ideas.”

“I don’t think I have anything juicy enough for your class.”

“Weren’t you dating that guy last semester?”

“Pshaw. That’s over. Way, way over.”

She frowns. “Bummer.”

“Not so much. He’s an ass.” We walk in silence, and I bump her with my hip. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I did kinda hook up with someone last weekend.”

Her eyes widen like she’s won the lottery. “Shut up! When?”

“At the club. When I was blowing you off, I was busy with this beautiful guy in the green room.”

She squeals like a teenager, and a few people on the corner turn to watch us.

“He made my toes curl. He was so gorgeous. Tall, totally ripped, messy brownish-blond hair. The best kisser.”

“Yum!” She shivers dramatically, and I laugh again. “Are you going to see him again?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not like that.” Although I wish it were.

She frowns again but then sighs. “At least you have some good spank bank material, though.”

I don’t bother fighting the smile that peeks out on my face. “Definitely.”

“Speaking of tickling the taco, my sister threw a sex toy party, and she said it was a blast.” A snort of laughter bursts out of me.
Tickling the taco?
Jenna smiles conspiratorially. “I’m thinking of throwing one later this semester. This company demos all their stuff while we get trashed. Sound like fun?”

Still chuckling, I nod. “Count me in.”

“Good. Now maybe you can help me talk Clem into it. She’s too hermetically sealed. I want to help her loosen up.”

I tense. I’ve said hi to Clem all week, and she barely mumbles any kind of greeting in return. I even asked if she wanted to watch
Glee
, and she rolled her eyes at me. Again.

“What?” Jenna asks.

Maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but I can’t seem to help my diarrhea of the mouth. “I know you and Clem are really tight, but… I don’t think she likes me.”

She pulls me to a stop. “I know Clementine seems like a total bitch on a good day, but give her time to get to know you. There’s no one more loyal. She’s just been through a lot of shit, so she doesn’t trust people, and she’s kind of in her own world, but once you get to know her, you’ll love her. I promise.”

I nod hesitantly. “Okay.”

Jenna laughs. “She’s going to kill me for saying this, but you should ask to read her book. She’s this amazing writer, and no one knows ’cause she writes under a pen name. She’s super private. But if she lets you read it, you’ll get a whole new insight into her. The book is really about what happened to her in high school with her ex and her asshole parents. Clem’s life is a soap opera, but you’d never know it.”

Now I’m intrigued.

Jenna turns me to her, a serious expression on her face. “I’m only telling you this because I trust you. Being friends with Clem is hardcore. You can’t screw her over.”

My spine straightens. I’m not sure if I should be afraid or offended.

Her eyes soften. “Sorry, I don’t mean to freak you out. I love her like a sister, and if you knew the shit she’s gone through, you’d be protective of her too. And I want the two of you to be close, which is why I’m putting this out there.”

I get it. Jenna is Clem’s Travis. He’d walk through fire for me. “It’s cool. I understand.”

* * *

O
n Sunday
, I finally get a chance to hang out with Clem. She’s gorgeous with long blondish-brown hair and big blue eyes. I know she works out like a maniac because every time I see her, she’s headed out for a run. She looks amazing even in sweats, which is what we’re all wearing.

I drank a little too much with Travis last night, so I’m fighting a hangover, and I’m sure I look like hell. My hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and I didn’t bother with any makeup. Whatever. We’re just doing laundry at Ryan’s and making lunch.

I’m stuffed in the back seat of a Honda Civic, squished next to Clem, bags of dirty laundry at our feet, when her book comes up.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says, complaining about her book cover. “I don’t really want to deal with hiring a designer.”