B00AAOCX2E EBOK (18 page)

“Hey, don’t you guys have that panel today?” Casey asked.

I glanced at the time on my phone; the traitorous device that had failed to ring, and therefore, was the current object of my disgust and loathing. “Yeah. I should probably get going, now that you mention it.”

Amery frowned. “I thought you didn’t have to be there until two?”

“I’m picking Ian up, and then we have to run to the station to pick up the promos Dr. Quinn wants us to pass out.” I stood and slung my heavy bag over my shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

“I was just about to.” Amery stood and walked around the table to give me a hug. “Break a leg. And don’t even think about that guy. Just have fun.”

I half-smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Do or do not. There is no try,” Casey said in a gruff, high-pitched voice. That earned him blank looks from both of us – the voice, not the reference. “Oh, come on. Star Wars? Yoda?”

Amery patted him on the head. “If you say so.”

Casey slumped and he released a dramatic sigh. “Why does nobody get me?”

Amery opened her mouth to answer.

“And that’s my cue. Later, guys.” I waved and moved off to dump my tray. Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I left the building and set off for my car so I could drive to Seligman.

I arrived ten minutes later, hiked my way to the second floor, and knocked.

As I waited, I happened to glance down and notice a dime-sized splotch of spaghetti sauce on my lemon-yellow cowl neck shirt. Gasping, I lifted the hem, dropping it when I saw it had already started to dry. There was nothing I could do about it now. Perfect.
Just freaking perfect.

I spent fifteen minutes picking out an outfit that morning for the show, and now all that time had gone to waste because I had to take my frustrations out on my lunch. I glanced at my phone for the time and closed my eyes. No time to head home and change. I prayed Ian had something I could borrow; something that didn’t scream Walk-of-Shame chic.

I raised my hand to knock again, but the door opened before my knuckles touched the surface. I came face-to-face with Miles Isaacson, Ian’s newest roommate. “Oh, hi,” I said, surprised to see him, since I so rarely did.

Miles was built much the same way Ian was, with a tall and lean body. He was possibly even better looking than Ian, with his chin-length brown hair and soft, honey-brown eyes, but there was a haunted look to them that made me uneasy. I knew very little about him, outside of the fact that he was a junior, like both Ian and me, and had transferred from NYU. I’d questioned Ian a few times on what he was like, but Ian said he was a hard guy to get to know. Apparently, he didn’t come out of his room much, and rarely talked when he did.

Miles nodded his head in greeting.

“Um…I’m here to see Ian?”

His mouth turned up on one side, clearly a non-verbal “duh.” Nearly everything with Miles was done with non-verbal cues. I had never met anyone who could convey so many thoughts and messages without saying a word.

Miles held the door opened for me to pass. “Thanks.” I stepped inside.

He watched me walk by with those haunted eyes of his and opened his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

I tried not to show my surprise as I crossed the distance between the entrance and the living room, making my way to Ian’s door. I raised my hand to knock.

“I believe he’s sleeping.” Miles said behind me.

I turned around to see Miles standing at the kitchenette counter. I watched with a deepening frown as he poured a can of Dr. Pepper into a glass filled half-way with milk. He lifted it to his mouth and took a long swig, making a face of disgust as he poured the remainder of the Dr. Pepper into the glass. I wanted to ask him why the hell he was drinking it if he found it so disgusting, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. I doubted I’d get much of one, anyway.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” I gave him an awkward smile.

He nodded, grabbed a bag of Sun Chips from the counter, and carried them and his drink concoction to his bedroom.

Weird guy. Cute, but weird.

I opened the door to Ian’s room and peeked one eye inside, wanting to make sure he was alone before I barged in. The vertical blinds were closed, but let in enough light for me to see that Ian alone lay in his bed.

I removed my bag from my shoulder and lowered it to the carpet, tiptoeing toward his bed. I sat on the edge and rubbed his shoulder gently, not wanting to startle him. I knew from experience that he could be a real bear upon waking. “Ian,” I whispered, rubbing my hand over his arm. I leaned down to his ear. “Wake up.” When I got no response, I shook his arm a little harder. “Ian, wake up, wake up, wake up.”

Ian muttered something unintelligible in his sleep and rolled onto his back, flinging his right arm over his head.

My shoulders slumped and I puffed out a breath. I was so not in the mood to deal with this. I looked around his room, which was as bare as ever. Ian had very few material possessions outside of the basic necessities. He was one of the few people I knew who didn’t even own a cell phone. There were no posters on the wall, no real personal effects, no decorations of any kind. There
was
a framed photo on the bookshelf above his desk. It was the two of us dressed as Sid and Nancy from last Halloween, but that was only because I’d put it there.

Ian had grown used to not bringing home anything he valued because it usually ended up destroyed in one of Pete’s drunken rages.
The more I have, the more I have to lose
, he used to tell me, and the mentality had stuck with him. The only thing of value he really owned was his motorcycle, which he’d won in a raffle at a Toys for Tots motorcycle run, something he’d participated in for the last three Christmases. The guy was far from a saint, but he had a pretty good heart.

I looked down and smirked. His body wasn’t too bad, either. The navy sheet had gotten twisted in his legs upon shifting, leaving his torso exposed. I scanned his cut chest with my eyes, following the tendrils of his tribal tattoo whose edges disappeared below the sheet.

My eyes caught and stuck on a small, exposed bit of his hip bone. I stared at that triangular area of his hip for a good five seconds before forcing myself to look away. Heat infused my cheeks and I felt an upward pull on my lips.

Wow, so yeah. He’s naked under there.

I touched my hot cheeks, not sure exactly why I was blushing. Or why I had to fight the impulse to look back down again. Clearing my throat, I trained my eyes on the wall above his head and shook his arm. “Ian, it’s time to get up.”

He didn’t so much as stir.

My gaze moved up the ceiling, then slowly rolled to the corner. Drawing my lower lip between my teeth, I gave into the urge to look back down again. I traced the flesh peeking out from the sheet with my eyes, then shifted my gaze to the delineated line where his lower abdominal muscles met his hip flexor. I traced down one side and back up the other, noticing it formed the most perfect V…one that flexed when his hips slowly rocked forward and the sheet tented around his groin.

What triggered that?

My eyes darted to his face, to find his eyes were open and trained on me.

My breath hitched. S
hit.

Ian watched me through dark, hooded eyes and I was too busy trying to figure out what to say to make out what he was thinking.

“Hey,” he said at last in a raspy voice.

I cleared my throat and tried to look away, but couldn’t. “Hey.”

“Were you just checking me out?”

My eyes widened so far I thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. Part of me was mortified that Ian didn’t let this one slide. He’d already given me a free pass after the whole debacle in my bedroom; I couldn’t expect lightning to strike twice.

First instinct had me wanting to deny that I’d been ogling him like a spread of Godiva chocolates, but I was an abysmal liar. He’d see right through me. “Yeah, maybe a little,” I admitted with a shrug.

Ian’s head moved back a measure. The corners of my mouth quivered while I waited for the smugness to appear. It didn’t. Instead, his eyebrows rose.

“What do you think?” he asked, his tone both straightforward and serious.

He appeared genuinely curious, and if my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, a little fearful of my answers.

Don’t be ridiculous, Ivy!
This is Ian. He’s got half the female population on campus chasing after him, telling him what a god he is. Why would he put so much value on what you think?

To buy myself time while I considered how to answer his question, I forced myself to look down at his chest again and tapped my finger against my chin, trying to break the tension. What I saw wasn’t funny, though. His breath had quickened and I noticed the sheet was balled up in his fist.

“Well,” I met his eyes again, “I have to take back every single joke I’ve ever made about you getting soft in the middle. You obviously have nothing to worry about in that department.”

He blinked rapidly twice, his brows dipping down. The sheet fell from his hand, which he lifted up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here so early, anyway?” he snapped, a sudden caustic edge to his words.

No one I knew could downshift as fast as Ian. “I’m not early. It’s after one.”

Ian turned his head to his nightstand, then rolled onto his stomach and looked over the edge of the bed. His alarm clock dangled from the nightstand, blinking 12:00.

“Which means you need to get up,” I said, swatting his thigh. “We have to leave in a few minutes.”

“Give me a minute.” Ian sat back on his bed and rubbed his spiky hair with his hands. He looked over at me again, his eyes stopping on my torso. “What happened to your shirt?”

I glanced down and sighed. I’d almost forgotten it in all my Ian-ogling. “I picked a fight with my lunch and lost.”

“What?”

I waved it off. “Long story. Can I borrow something of yours?”

He gestured to his closet. “I doubt anything will fit, but have at it.”

I rose from the bed to check out the closet, eager to regain some of my composure. My hands shook as I considered and discounted most of the black T-shirts and men’s dress shirts, all of which would hang below my knees. Being short sucked.

In the very back I found a white button-down that looked like something he’d outgrown. “What about this?” I asked, turning around. I saw Ian standing behind me, pulling on a pair of jeans over his naked rear end. My mouth gaped while I stared at the tight spheres before they disappeared beneath the denim.

Ian turned around. “It’ll be a little big, but knock yourself out.” He leaned his head down to catch my attention, since my eyes were still gazing at the same spot where his naked ass had been seconds before; now where other assets sat under a layer of denim.

Busted. Again.

Mortified to be caught ogling him for a second time, I turned back to the closet and buried my head into the white shirt.

***

I looked over at Ian as we drove to the station ten minutes later. He leaned against the headrest of the passenger seat with his eyes closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Ian, am I ugly?” I asked. My head was back on straight now, and I was back to obsessing over why Jayden hadn’t called; right where I should be.

I glanced over to see Ian had cracked his eyes.

Returning my attention to the road, I began worrying my lip.

“What’s going on, Ivy?” he asked.

“It’s a pretty straightforward question: do you think I’m ugly?”

“Shut up. You’re gorgeous, and you know it.”

“Gorgeous?” I asked with a pleased smile. I don’t think anyone I ever knew had actually called me that before, outside of my mom. “Really?”

The look he gave me said
I’m so not doing this, move on
.

I slumped in my seat. “Then how come…?”

“How come what?” Ian asked with a heavy sigh. I could tell his patience was a little on the thin side.

“Never mind.”

“Ivy.”

“Fine. Jayden never called,” I said. It was an answer as well as a message that Jayden was where my head was. I wanted us back on neutral ground.

Ian shook his head and looked away. A second later, he turned his body back to me. “Why are you girls so warped? One guy doesn’t call, and you suddenly doubt your appeal?”

I shrugged, embarrassed again for acting like this. “I know, I’m stupid. It’s just…I liked him.”

Ian rolled down the window and rested his elbow on the open frame as we drove down a stretch of campus covered with short grass and tall trees. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the guy was a loser. Get over it.”

My lips pinched together. I was getting sick of this. “You know, you say everyone I’m interested in is a loser. Is there anybody in the entire world you would approve of me dating?”

Ian didn’t say anything for so long, I finally looked over. His tight and narrow eyes studied the road ahead of us. He shook his head. “Who says you need to date, anyway?”

“Me!” I cried in exasperation, causing him to flinch. “I know you don’t want see it, but I am not that little seven year-old you had to defend when we were kids. I’m a grown up now. I’m a sexual creature, and I have sexual urges, and I’m ready to fall in love, dammit!”

Ian stared at me with wide, green eyes. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times but finally he just shook his head and looked away.

“What? No big thoughts?”

When he said nothing, I sighed.

“Maybe,” he said in a tone I didn’t recognize; something deeper and softer, “if you stop looking, it’ll find you.”

I shook my head, not sure I heard him right. Actual, honest love advice from Ian?

Some of the tension left my body and I gave him a grudging grin. “You know, they do say that you find love when you’re least looking for it,” I mused. “I’m so impatient, though. I mean, what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“You can stick with me,” he offered in an easy voice, tilting his head back.

“Well, that takes care of the not-being-alone part, though it still doesn’t help scratch my itch.” I chuckled. “Unless you’re willing to help me in that area, too?”