Authors: Autumn Doughton
I cringe. Clearly I’ve forgotten about Rachel and Deena because I have no idea what she’s talking about. I like to think of Noelle as a friend, but judging from the nasty glare that she’s giving me, our relationship status is more ambiguous than I previously thought.
“Noelle, you’ve got this all wrong. I’m just being friendly.”
Noelle’s not buying it, which, let’s face it, is probably smart of her. “Friendly my ass. Aimee is one of my girls, not a member of the panty-dropping bimbo squad.”
Aimee.
I let the name roll around my head, making room for the idea of her. “Well, if she’s your friend, you should be happy that I’m being so charming.”
Noelle shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. I already warned you not to play this shit around me. I declare this one an official safe zone.”
I feel my pasted on smile start to slip. Damn. Noelle’s not exactly giving me the glowing recommendation that I had hoped for. I rub the heel of my hand over my face and feel my shoulders rising toward my ears.
“What’s a safe zone?” A small voice asks.
I look over. Aimee has finally worked up the courage to interject herself into the conversation. Her mouth is puckered up and her light eyes are rounded. She’s got this one freckle on her cheek that’s fucking killing me.
Noelle gives Aimee a significant look. “That means that you are off-limits and that Cole has to keep his hands and his
slut
-boy tendencies to himself.” I think that she deliberately exaggerates the word slut for my benefit.
“Ouch!” I throw my hand over my heart and toss my head back in a show of mock-hurt. “What if I’m trying to turn over a new leaf and by automatically making the assumption that I’m hitting on your hot friend, you’re pigeonholing me and effectively halting my growth as a human being?”
“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Noelle replies, rolling her eyes at me.
The thing is that I’m not joking. I’ve felt it before—that unexpected zing that happens when you check out a particular chick—but this is different. Something about Aimee has my interest piqued. It’s true that she’s hot. Damn. With all that dark hair and those blue eyes, she’s fucking on fire. But I’m not making a play to get her into bed—I just want to know a little more about her. Call it curiosity.
Shit. Even in my own head that sounds like some overused pick-up line. I don’t know why I’m pushing this. Zing or no zing, I’m usually not the type to pursue a random. I’m a smile-and-let-them-come-to-me kind of guy.
And maybe that’s what’s happening here. I can sense the challenge in front of me and I’m craving it—a typical caveman reaction. Aimee doesn’t seem completely immune to me, but she’s definitely not looking at me like she wants to eat me either. It’s been a while since I’ve come across a chick that made me try, and I’m a guy that’s naturally drawn to a fight—on and off the track.
Noelle comes closer and places one of her hands on my chest. She gives me a light shove but my feet are squarely planted so I don’t budge even a centimeter.
She sighs. “Look, Aimee and I don’t have time to debate your man-whore status right now. We haven’t seen each other in a long time and we’re trying to catch up, so why don’t you scoot along and go annoy someone else?”
Ignoring Noelle’s hand on my chest, I turn to Aimee and ask, “So you and Noelle are old friends?”
Noelle doesn’t seem to care that the question wasn’t directed at her, and she’s answering before Aimee can even open her mouth. “Yes. She’s a year younger than me and we swam together back in high school. Are you satisfied, Cole?” She makes a shooing gesture. “Now be gone, pretty boy.”
I blink, my eyes narrowing in on Aimee’s blue irises. “You swam?”
“Yeah… I did, but not anymore.” Aimee nods slowly and crosses her arms protectively in front of her chest. I think she looks too small and fragile to be a swimmer. Maybe she got sick and that’s why she had to quit.
“She was All-State for the 200 yard medley and the 100 yard Butterfly her junior year,” Noelle tells me with a satisfied smile.
This surprises me and has my mind all over the place.
All-State
? That means that she was good. Very good. “If you were All-State, why did you quit?”
The two girls share a look and I notice the way that Aimee’s forehead compresses and how she unconsciously touches the scar on her neck. “Other things came up and it was a lot of pressure.”
“Huh.” I pause. “If you went to high school with Noelle then you must know Daniel Kearns because he went to the same school.”
She lifts her chin a fraction and her blue eyes boggle. “Daniel? You know Daniel Kearns?”
I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, of course I know Daniel. He’s one of my roommates and we run track together.” My gaze swings over Noelle to the sidewalk behind me where Daniel stopped to check out one of the tables. “He was right behind me. Should I get—”
Aimee cuts me off abruptly, her now panicked eyes darting to Noelle’s face. “I—I don’t understand. I thought he was on scholarship at Michigan.” She clenches her fingers and sucks in a ragged breath.
She seems ready to crawl out of her own skin and this awful sensation slithers over my shoulders. Does this girl have some sort of history with Daniel? Did they go out?
Noelle’s features contort into a grimace. “I don’t know what to say, Aimee. I would have warned you but I just assumed that you already knew. Daniel transferred here last fall after... well, you know. His mom was having an especially hard time and he wanted to be closer to home.”
I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I can tell that something is very wrong. Aimee’s face looks pained and her eyes are getting shiny like she might start to cry. I touch her arm gently and her warm skin spasms beneath my fingertips. “Aimee—”
She doesn’t wait for me to finish. In one fluid movement, she drops her hand, pushes away from us and takes off across the courtyard. Noelle and I are left staring and stuttering in her wake.
Aimee
Luckily, I haven’t had any more unfortunate run-ins
with people from my past. Mara reminds me every morning that the university is huge.
Chances are slim,
she says and I’m starting to think that she’s right.
It’s the second day of classes. So far I like all of my professors and the course material seems mildly interesting. I’m even considering applying for a position as an office assistant in the English Department. This, I realize with vague surprise, is what it feels like to settle in—to begin believing that life can be okay again.
With an hour to waste before my next class starts, I turn left in front of the Liberal Arts building and find a patch of summer-green grass to sit down on. Above me, the spindly palm trees buffer me from the pounding rays of the sun. Their fronds whistle in the light morning breeze and fan out across the sky like a web of papery green veins.
The professor for my Media Literacy class emailed the course syllabus out yesterday, so I take my book out of my bag and start to read ahead, taking notes in between bites of the donut I brought on campus with me.
I wasn’t always the diligent student that I am now. The first three years of high school I was too busy looking for a good time to be bothered with essays and reading assignments. Admittedly, my best friend was usually the catalyst for those good times. I can almost hear her voice, giddily pushing me toward her open bedroom window while I groggily complained that it was one in the morning.
We’ll sleep when we’re dead, Aimee.
Shuddering, I remind myself that I’ve spent the last year cultivating a new persona, and this version of Aimee Spencer doesn’t attract attention. She never misses class, she makes the Dean’s List, and she reads ahead.
What would she make of me now?
The thought is so confounding that I very nearly laugh out loud.
After a solid thirty minutes of reading, I swallow the last of the donut and search the front pocket of my bag until my fingers find the wound-up cord of my earbuds. I jam them into my ears and scroll through my library until I’ve found what I’m looking for—a mellow indie band that I discovered in Portland. I lean back until the musky smell of earth fills my nostrils and tiny blades of brittle grass tickle the skin of my shoulders.
With the music in my head and my hair pressed out all around me, I follow the twisting pattern of sunbursts darting between the lacey palm fronds. I look until the spanning brightness turns the world hazy white and stings the back of my eyes and I’m forced to close them.
I’ll be the bottles on the beaches
You’ll be the waves that wash them all ashore
Is it strange that my brain conjures up the image of Cole Everly’s face? I only talked to him for five minutes almost a week ago, but like some swoony thirteen year old, I can’t stop thinking about him. Cataloguing his physical assets has become a regular distraction when I want to zone out.
Maybe this is what I get for spending an entire year avoiding any and all guys. Now my suppressed hormones are raging to the surface with a blistering vengeance.
Hmmmm. Cole.
It’s definitely those eyes. Sure, the rest of him is gorgeous, but I’ve never seen eyes like that—green and gold all at once. They blink from his face like two star-bright forest moons. And I remember that his nose has a very slight bump in it that somehow makes his face even better… more interesting.
Sensing movement, my lashes flutter open and I see a figure, backlit and looming above me. Drenched in equal parts light and shadow, it takes a few seconds for the lines of his body to solidify and for the angles of his face to come into focus. When they do, my heart lurches with a wild dizziness, and my body locks up.
It’s like the universe is playing a joke on me. I’m a mess of frozen joints and wide eyes—every single atom of my being seems to be caught in place. After ten beats too long, I manage to reboot myself by sucking in a breath of air and plucking the earbuds out of my ears.
“Hi,” he says.
I know that I’m staring like a fool, but I can’t help it, can I? Like I conjured him out of thin air, Cole Everly is smirking down at me.
“Is this okay?” He sits down on the ground next to me, folding his long legs into his body and draping his arms over his kneecaps with an easy confidence.
Completely disoriented, I let my eyes roam from the sun-tipped hair sticking out in every direction all the way down to the worn brown leather flip-flops that encase his long narrow toes.
I push myself up on my elbows, feeling the weight of my hair as it falls against my shoulders. “Your third toe is longer than your second toe.”
He laughs and the sound of it rumbles through my body and decides to stay awhile. “Of all the things I thought you’d say, pointing out my strange toes never crossed my mind.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I reply, glancing down to where my fingernails are gripping the dirt.
“It’s not that.” Cole closes his eyes like he’s searching inside himself for something. “It’s just that I wanted to…” He shoves his fingers back through his hair and exhales audibly. “Fuck. I was worried about you the other day and so was Noelle. You freaked out on us and I didn’t know what was wrong.” He smiles sheepishly. “I was on my way to class from morning practice and I saw you over here and I guess that I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
My heart seizes.
Great
. He thinks I’m half off my rocker and has taken pity on me—the broken girl who obviously can’t keep her shit together. I feel pulled out and raw under the intensity of his gaze. I fidget with the hair band wrapped around my wrist. “Your concern is appreciated, but why would you be worried about me? You don’t know me. You don’t even know my whole name.”
His laugh is quick and boyish. “Yeah I do.
Aimee Spencer
.”
This flusters me and Cole can tell. His smile gets wider and the dimples make an appearance. Great. There just had to be dimples, didn’t there?
“Give me a little credit,” he says, lifting his eyebrows. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t do my research?”
I push the earbuds that have been hanging from my shoulder into my lap. “I have no idea why you would bother, but if you did your research and are actually Daniel Kearns’ roommate, then I’m sure that you already know why I ran away the other day. Daniel and I—” I stop myself and look down briefly. “We don’t speak.”
Cole’s smile falters, but he still pushes forward. “Luckily I’m not Daniel.” He kicks back, mirroring my position so that he’s settled on his elbows. “So, tell me about yourself, Aimee Spencer.”
I shake my head blandly. “There’s nothing to tell.”
Closing his eyes, he angle
s his head so that his face is turned up to the sun. “Now
that
I don’t believe for a second. How about your family? Start with the easy stuff and we’ll work our way up to religion, politics and what type of birth control you’re on.”
I open my mouth, but there are no words—just thoughts dangling from my tongue. I’m not sure whether I should laugh or kick him where it hurts.
Cole squints over at me. “Waiting over here.”
I blow out a shaky breath. “My family is just my older sister and my parents. My dad manages investments and my mom plays bridge on Tuesdays, goes to her book club meeting on Thursdays, and worries about me during all of the in-between times.”
His eyes are closed but he nods like he’s been listening to me. I wait for him to say something, but after an extended silence that has my brain doing erratic twirls, I break down and ask, “So, ummm… what about your family?”
“I’ve got a thirteen-year-old sister back home,” he says, keeping his face tipped to the sun. “My dad’s a lousy attorney in the middle of nowhere-ville, Nebraska, and my mom is out of the picture. She emptied the bank account and ran off with another guy around three years ago.”
His tone is so casual that it’s obvious that he’s joking. I play along. “Oh, like she snuck off in the middle of the night with her tennis pro?”
Cole turns his head and looks at me with serious green eyes. “No, she didn’t want to become a cliché so she left on a Sunday afternoon with the her golf instructor. She lives somewhere up north and she calls occasionally, but I haven’t spoken to her since she left.”
Holy hell. Am I the biggest bitch in the history of the universe? Without thinking, I reach out and brush Cole’s hand. Instantly, his fingers curl over mine—capturing me, pinning me in place and sending a hum of electricity up my arm. My eyes snap to his and the world sways beneath us. I notice the hard movement of his throat as he swallows and a strand of hair falling into his eyes. His mouth parts like he has something to say. I shift my body infinitesimally closer and—
“Hey Cole!”
We look up in unison. A leggy girl with light brown hair and pink stained lips is waving at us from the sidewalk. The too-eager look on her face is like a poison spreading through my gut. I snatch my hand back and tuck it underneath my body.
Cole takes a tight breath and nods his head once to the girl before looking back at me with a level gaze. “So, Aimee, there’s this thing happening tonight.”
I hesitate. “What kind of thing?”
Chewing the inside of his cheek, Cole says, “A party kind of thing. The track team does it every year at the start of school as a sort of way to let loose before practices pick up and we get too busy.”
There’s no way that I’m going to a party hosted by a bunch of asshole jocks, but I ask anyway: “And where is this party?”
“At a place called Dirty Ernie’s.”
“
Dirty Ernie’s
? That sounds… um,
interesting.
”
I watch Cole’s mouth soften and everything inside of me rolls over. He pushes himself to his feet so that I have to arc my neck and look a long way up. “Will you come? I know for a fact that Daniel won’t be there so you don’t have that as an excuse.”
I surprise myself with my boldness. “And what if I have plans?”
Cole’s nostrils flare slightly. “Do you have plans tonight, Aimee?”
“No, but…”
He quirks one side of his mouth and laughs. “Good. Because I’m going to tell you a little secret but I’d like you to keep it between us.”
“What’s that?”
Cole stuffs his hands in his pockets and works his jaw like he’s thinking over each word before he says it. “It would have bothered me more than it should have if you’d said that you had plans.”
My thoughts are moving so fast that I can hardly follow them.
Does he mean what I think he means?
“The party starts at nine, Aimee Spencer.” Then he’s gone—jogging after that girl—and I’m left staring after him trying not to notice how nice and round his butt is.
***
While I wait for my next class to start, I get lost in my head. Considering that the closest I got to attending a party last year in Portland was stumbling into the middle of a flash mob on the corner of Fourth and Madison, I don’t think I’m ready for the party scene. After so many months of keeping myself drawn into a tight ball, I’m realizing that it’s harder to make myself unspool than I thought it would be.
A fresh start.
The goal of coming back to Florida was to start living again and I know that if I’m being honest with myself, I’m only partway there. My classes are going well, but other than Mara and a few professors and now Cole, I’ve barely talked to anyone since I’ve gotten here.
A noise startles me from my thoughts. In the seat next to me, a girl is staring.
“Hi,” she says cheerily.
“Hi?”
I realize that I know her. It’s the blue-haired girl from Mara’s sorority.
“We didn’t meet properly last time. I’m Jodi,” she tells me, kicking her head to the side.