Dearest Clementine (10 page)

“Jenna,” I say slowly, “what game is on today?”

Her eyes widen as she processes why I’m asking.

“Oh, I think it’s Notre Dame and Stanford.” She smiles back reassuringly, but my heart is still racing. At least I’m not in full panic-attack mode. Those used to strike all the time for almost no reason at all. But I’m tired of Daren still qualifying as a reason.

When we walk in, Ryan comes up and plants his face on Jenna’s.

“Get a room,” I say as I push past them.

“That’s actually a great idea,” Ryan says, laughing.

“You two are like drug addicts. It’s too early in the day for tongue.”

“Clemster, it’s never too early for tongue. See, that’s why we need to get you a boyfriend.”

“If you weren’t dating my best friend, I’d take out your spleen for calling me that. Furthermore, I am not a tongue-in-front-of-my-friends kind of girl.”

Jenna pushes him off, giggling, and we drop our laundry in the hall. When I get to the living room, I’m surprised to see my brother.

“Hey, loser.” He gets up, and I hug him. “What are you doing here?”

Jax is always busy. I didn’t think he socialized with guys other than his teammates.

“Ryan invited me over last weekend, so I thought I’d stop by. Heard you girls were making lunch.”

“You came for the free food. That makes sense.”

He grins and sinks back down into the couch. The rest of Ryan’s band is here, including Kade the douchebag, which is his official name in my book. I turn and almost run into Gavin, who’s coming from the kitchen with a beer in his hand.

“Hey,” I say, surprised to see him.

Gavin smiles and gives me a hug. He does this like we’re old friends. I’ve never really thought much about hugs, but holy shit, this one feels good. I’m immediately flooded with thoughts of those washboard abs. As I press my face to his chest, he smells all kinds of yummy.

He whispers, “You left your Classical Lit notes at my place the other night. If I had known you were coming, I’d have brought them.”

That’s thoughtful.
Butterflies swirl in my stomach like drunk sailors.

I lean back so I can see his face. He hasn’t shaved this morning, and his jaw is scruffy. Damn, he’s even hotter like this.

“I didn’t notice I’d lost them. Thanks for mentioning it.”

We’re talking, but he hasn’t let go of me.
Is this weird?
I still have one hand on his hip, and he has one arm around my shoulder. But friends hug, right? I mean, I just hugged my brother. Oh, but this is so
not
like hugging my brother. Gavin’s all warm and sexy, making me think about waking up nestled against him yesterday morning with my thigh wrapped around his.

As my resolve to stay away from him takes a nosedive, I’m suddenly aware that everyone is watching us. Panic rips through me, and I pull back, mumbling something about food and laundry and who knows what else.

I dart into the kitchen as Jenna and Dani start lunch, so I wash my hands and get out the supplies to help them. We bump around in a comfortable silence until Kade starts yelling.

“Clem! Come here!”

I hate Kade even more now that he’s seen my nipples. I don’t have a clue why he would need to speak to me, but I wander into the living room anyway. The guys are watching the half-time show, which features a preview of next weekend’s BC game.

“Isn’t this your boy?” Kade asks as a picture of one very attractive Daren Sloan, star quarterback, pops up.

I don’t know who thought it would be a good idea to explain my connection to Daren, but obviously someone has. The segment features Daren’s recent engagement to his “high-school sweetheart” Veronica. I can’t help but laugh.

Kade pokes me, and I contemplate breaking that finger.

“Clem, aren’t you jealous? You could have married the guy who is probably going to be the number-one draft pick.”

I’m almost positive that Kade is going to hell, a thought that nearly puts a smile on my face.

Trying to stand tall, I do my best to seem unaffected. “If Veronica giving him blow jobs our senior year while he was dating me qualifies her as a sweetheart, then I’m a little mistaken about what that word means. And for the record, I’ve never regretted breaking up with him.” I feel blood pumping through the veins in my neck. “He still sends me tickets to his games. I bet Veronica doesn’t know that little detail. So really, they’re perfect for each other.”

Jax looks irritated. “He’s never told me he sends you tickets.”

“He’s your best friend. Maybe you should ask him about it.” I turn on my heel and head down to the laundry room.
Breathe. Breathe.

* * *

My hands are still shaking ten minutes later as I start the load of whites. Or I’m trying to start the machine, but the button is stuck.

“Here. Let me help.” Gavin reaches over my shoulder and does this weird twisting motion to the switch, which makes the machine magically start. I must be out of it because I didn’t hear him come down the stairs.

“How did you know to do that? Do you do laundry here a lot?”

He’s still standing in my personal space.

“No, I don’t do laundry here, but it’s my house, so I have to deal with the appliance problems.”

What?

He sees the confusion on my face and smiles. “It’s my grandmother’s house, or it was until she died a few years ago. My parents gave it to me, but since I have to live on campus, I rent it out. That’s how I met Ryan.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

His eyes tighten and his head tilts.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry Kade is being a dick.”

He runs his hands through his thick, black hair, and it’s going every which way but still somehow looks great.

“I’m fine.” Although Kade
is
being a bigger douchebag than usual. “I’m just not used to talking about Daren with anyone, so I’m surprised he knew.”

Gavin sighs and rubs his chin. “He’s going through some rough stuff right now.”

Because I don’t care what Kade is going through, I shrug.

He motions toward me. “That sounded kind of intense, what you said about Daren cheating on you.”

I nod, not really knowing how much I want to tell him, especially since he’s a reporter. But he wouldn’t write about something as stupid as my nonexistent love life, would he? Not when he covers serious topics?

He senses my hesitation and pulls me into a hug. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Breathing in the scent of his clothes makes something in my heart ache. “There’s not much to say. It happened a long time ago.” I step back and look up at him warily.

He smiles back and nods. “Okay, well, lunch is ready, and Jenna said to get your ass up there.”

We start to walk back upstairs when he nudges me. “You wanna go climbing again on Friday?”

I don’t know if it’s his easy smile or the fact that he didn’t pressure me to tell him more about Daren, but it makes me want to trust him, so I tell him yes.

-
8 -

The corner convenience store is crammed with students hustling to get to class.

“I’ll have a cinnamon raisin bagel, light cream cheese and small coffee,” Jenna says, handing the guy behind the counter a ten.

“A banana and coffee.” I drop the piece of fruit into my messenger bag and hand over some cash.

“I hate Mondays,” I grumble, tired from spending half the night revising the copy on my website. Gagging in the aftermath of the sorority girls who walk by, I wave my hand in front of my face and whisper to Jenna, “And biatches who wear too much perfume.”

Jenna elbows me in agreement. “And girls who over-pluck their eyebrows so they always look surprised.”

Laughing, I link my arm through hers, and we make our way out onto the sidewalk and wait for the light to change.

I scrunch my face in disgust. “I hate sauerkraut and yappy dogs.”

“Yes! And thong wedgies because even though that scrap of fabric is supposed to be up there, it ain’t supposed to be
up there.
”

I try not to choke on my coffee as she lowers her voice and cocks an eyebrow.

“And I hate used condoms. The way they sit there all deflated and judgmental, like little reminders of the dirty sex you had the night before.”

I snort before I get a chance to cover my face. “Jesus, Jenna.”

We trudge across Commonwealth Avenue with the hordes of other students, and we’re about to make our way to the Liberal Arts Building when I hear a familiar voice in the distance. Before I realize what I’m doing, I yank Jenna behind a thick row of hedges. She squeals as her knees sink into the moist dirt, and her coffee tumbles to the ground.

“Shhh!” I put my finger over her lips as we huddle like escaped criminals behind a bush.

Over the shrubbery, I hear their steps. The girl’s giggle precedes her high-pitched voice. “Thank God you liked my submission. I was so worried it sucked.”

“It is simply breathtaking, love. I’m confident you’ll be able to publish it, but we can talk about it more after class, perhaps over lunch.” His voice wraps around me like a python constricting. I close my eyes as I try to catch my breath.

I wait several minutes so I can be sure they’re gone, and then, like a little gopher in one of those arcade games, I pop my head up over the shrubbery to survey the scene.

Satisfied the coast is clear, I inhale several times in relief before I extend my hand down to my roommate who has a
What the fuck was that?
expression on her face.

“I’m so sorry, Jenna! I heard Wheeler’s voice and reacted. I didn’t mean to shove you into the mud.”

She pats me on the back. “You haven’t seen him yet?”

“Not face to face, and I’m wondering if I can go the whole year without any meet-and-greets. I already had a close call at the bookstore. Do you think I stand a chance of avoiding him until graduation?”

Her mouth twists as she contemplates my question. She shakes her head. “That dog don’t hunt.”

I stare at her and blink. I
think
she means no.

There’s nothing like Jenna’s Southern wisdom, but that wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

* * *

When the week starts with leaping behind shrubbery, I know I’m in trouble. I fumble through the next few days, sleeping through my morning alarms and running late to classes and work. No matter how much coffee I drink or attempts I make to plan my schedule, I can’t seem to get my act together. Wheeler’s presence anchors me like lead, and I find myself always looking behind me, worrying if I’m going to see him again.

So all I can mumble as I stare at the red scribble in the margins of my assignment is, “It figures.”

A C? Marceaux gave me a C?

“I got a better grade on this than you?” Jenna snatches my submission for our romance-writing class, and the delight on her face is unmistakable. I shoot her a dirty look, and she sticks out her bottom lip like she’s sad, which I know is complete bullshit.

“Yeah, it’s official now. I’m a loser.” I knew this wasn’t right when I wrote it.

After flipping through the pages, Jenna sighs. “Her comments are pretty intense.”

Harper, who has been half listening to our conversation, shuffles out of her room and drops onto the couch. “What did Marceaux tell you?”

“That my writing feels stilted and repressed. That I need to loosen up.” I could have told her that. “But she’s not half as tough as our critique groups will be.”

Harper frowns. “That sucks.”

“I’m just not feeling it.”

Jenna jumps up and bolts into her room, calling out, “I have a great idea!” She returns with her phone and a second later my cell buzzes.

I glance down at my screen. “Jenna, why are you texting me when you’re three feet away?”

She smirks. “We’re going to play Out-skank.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“We’re gonna help you talk about sex. The point of the game is to see who can out-skank the other. Harper and I are going to send you dirty texts, and you have to write us back.”

“Where do you come up with this?” I’m shaking my head as I read her text out loud:
I want you to touch my man-slinky.

Man-slinky?

I look up at Jenna and Harper, and the three of us crack up.

“You have to write me back. Or else.” Jenna waves her phone at me with a grin.

I roll my eyes.

I’ve never sexted, so I don’t know where to begin. Jenna has probably had tons of practice with Ryan.
Gross.

Finally, I return the message.

Jenna reads it out loud:
I would touch your man-slinky, but I don’t like jangly parts.