College Girl (33 page)

I nodded and opened the car door. Pausing,
I looked at James—his smirk, his suit, his look-at-me car.

“You should have taken my advice.”

I sat down and pulled the door
shut after me. My head was spinning when Ryan got in and looked over at me.

“You changed your locks?” I asked,
a little dumbfounded.

He pulled out of the parking
space, and I turned back once and saw James still standing there.

“Spring cleaning.”

I looked down.

“I’m sorry about James. You guys
have been friends a long time.”

“And I’ve been giving him a free
pass to be a prick for way too long.”

“Was he at your house all week?”

“That’s what it looked like.”

“Doesn’t he have anything better
to do?”

“Depends on what he thinks
better
is at the moment. His job gives
him flexibility, and James is …”

“Unhinged?”

“A little bit. Alex, I’m sorry I
sent him to pick you up. I just didn’t want … I didn’t want you to have to deal
with my bullshit.”

I bit my lip.

“You mean your life? I would have
come with you to the hospital.”

“I know.”

Ryan took the ramp onto the
freeway.

“Wait—where are you going?”

He looked over at me.

“SF.”

I shook my head.

“Hold on. I thought we were going
back to your house to
talk
.”

He glanced at me and frowned.

“The house is pretty destroyed,
and I didn’t think you would appreciate wading through pizza boxes.”

“But I can’t go to San Francisco
with you.”

“Alex, I just want to talk to you.
I’m not asking for anything else. If you want me to sleep on the floor, I will.
But I wasn’t going to leave you in the dorm.”

I nodded hesitantly and then sat
back.

“When you said James didn’t take
your advice, what were you talking about?” Ryan asked.

“I told him to stop expecting the
worst out of people and to try believing that someone would love him for who he
was.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Ryan
laughed.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

I nodded and braced myself.

“
Did
you sleep with his fiancée?”

Ryan was quiet for several
seconds, and I was torn—between feeling awful for giving weight to
anything James McDevitt had told me and dread that what he said could have been
true.

“He showed you the ring?” Ryan
asked.

When I nodded, Ryan swore under
his breath.

“I can’t believe I ever thought he
had a shred of fucking integrity,” he muttered. “I should have kicked his ass.
Goddamn asshole.”

“I don’t get it …”

“The ring is a fake.”

“A
fake
,” I repeated. “You mean a fake diamond?”

“A
fake
everything. James was never
engaged
.
He uses that ring—and the story—to hook women.” Ryan frowned as he
looked over at me. “He calls it his ultimate panty dropper.”

My stomach lurched, and I had a
moment of pure nausea.

“It’s my fault for wanting to
believe he had a fucking conscience,” Ryan continued.

“Uh, Ryan? Let your friend take
credit for his own behavior. One day he’ll get a wake-up call, and he’ll think
twice about screwing over his friends.”

“McDevitt learn a valuable life
lesson? Impossible.”

I stared out the window at the
passing lights and thought about how easy it was to screw things up irrevocably
with one bad decision. Or two. Or three. How many had I made? And had I learned
my lesson yet?

The drive took nearly an hour and
a half, but neither of us said a word for the rest of the trip. We passed over
a bridge, and suddenly it felt like I was entering a parallel reality. Ryan
took the first exit after crossing the Bay, and a few minutes later we pulled
up in front of a hotel. When a valet opened my door, my heart started racing.

What was I doing here?

But it only took a second to
realize exactly why I was here. I had been running away from Ryan just as much
as he had been running away from me, and the only real reason I
kept
running was because that was what I
always did when I was afraid—of getting hurt, of finding out that
everyone does leave.

Of losing
myself.

Ryan took my hand, and my first
instinct was to crush the thrill I felt so that I didn’t end up disappointed
later. Then I remembered the advice I had given James McDevitt. If I assumed
that Ryan never could have loved me, that made me a hypocrite.

Tonight I had the chance to see if
what we had was built on stable ground.

Ryan

Alex smiled and bit her lip as we
walked toward the hotel entrance. It was indisputable: I had altered her life.
If she had never met me, she might have been in her dorm room tonight hooking
up with the guy from the grainy picture McDevitt had sent. I hated the thought
of it, but it was true.

It was also undeniable that she
had altered my life—and that I loved her more than I had realized was
possible. For the longest time, I had convinced myself that it was physical
attraction I felt for her—end of story. But that didn’t explain the way I
felt right now as I looked down at her. I just wanted to spend the entire night
holding her in my arms and grilling her with questions.

Did I want to make love to her all
night long? Fuck, yes. But I had done too much damage to expect her to trust
that I wouldn’t hurt her. And I would rather die than hurt her again, but she
had no reason to believe that.

We walked into the lobby, and Alex
looked in awe at the surroundings. I checked in, and as we started walking
toward the elevators, I took a risk and grabbed Alex’s hand. She didn’t pull
away.

“Have you been here before?” she
whispered.

I nodded.

“The winery has an account.”

“Oh, right.”

Some of the tension seemed to melt
out of her, and I realized that she had probably thought this was my go-to
destination for bringing women. I nearly laughed, but it wasn’t a joke. I had
pushed Alex away enough times that I didn’t deserve this chance. But she had
given it to me, and I wasn’t about to fuck it up.

We reached the eighth floor and
walked to the corner suite. Opening the door, I gestured for Alex to walk
ahead. The lights were on, and our bags were waiting. I stopped and watched as Alex
walked, absolutely silent, through the suite. Finally she turned back and
stared at me.

“This is insane!” she gasped.

She walked into the bathroom.

“Oh, fuck. I don’t even want to
know how much you paid for this.”

I had paid about half of what I
had paid for her entire spring term, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“Does that mean you like it?”

“
Like
it? That might be the understatement of the century.”

I smiled.

“You want something to eat?”

She looked around.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Almost two.”

“This is
definitely
insane.”

“Pizza?” I grinned.

She looked tempted, and I picked
up the phone.

“They have a great
pot de crème
, too.”

“
Pot de crème
?”

“Like chocolate crème brûlée.”

I placed the order and watched as
Alex walked the periphery of the room, staring out the windows at the lights
beyond. The bridge was visible in the moonlight, and it was an impressive view
of the bay, even at night. She stopped when she reached the soaking tub in the
corner facing the window.

“Ryan … why did you bring me
here?” she asked quietly, still looking out into the darkness. “Really.”

“Because I’m happier when I’m with
you. And because I don’t want to lose you.”

I walked slowly toward her,
watching as tears welled up in her eyes again.

“I don’t want to lose you either,
but—”

I wiped her cheeks.

“Then give me another chance.”

The corner of her lips lifted in a
wry smile.

“Is pizza and
pot de crème
in a luxury hotel suite bribery?”

“Absolutely.”

She laughed, and I pulled her
toward the bed. She sat down stiffly at the edge.

“Alex, I’m not here to seduce
you.”

“And what if I wanted you to?”

She blushed, and I willed myself
not to think about the last time I had been with her.

“You’re not going to make this
easy for me, are you?”

She blinked.

“Make what easy?”

“Redemption.”

She shook her head, and I ached to
pull her long, dark hair from the ponytail.

“Ryan, I’m not mad at you. I just
… I don’t know. We’ve both run away from whatever this is so many times that
maybe we’re just better off not—”

I took her hand lightly.

“Alex, listen to me. I’m not
running away this time. I’m not going anywhere. What happens after this weekend
is completely up to you. Until then, I want to spend time with you—and
you can ask me anything you want.”

She ran her tongue along her upper
lip quickly, and I started going over theorems in my head to keep from grabbing
her.

“Anything?” she asked.

I nodded, acutely aware that this
wasn’t going to lead anywhere good.

“How many people have you slept
with?”

“I have nothing but respect for
the fine gay community of this fair city and beyond, but for the sake of
accuracy, I’ve only slept with women.”

She smirked.

“Okay. Then, how many
females
have you slept with?”

“Eleven.”

Alex’s eyes widened, and I
couldn’t tell if it was because she had estimated high or low.

“Wow. Does that include me?”

I nodded, and she started chewing
her lip. When she gave me a wry smile, I relaxed and assumed that her questions
could only get easier from here. Then she looked down at her hands.

“How did your brother die?”

“Car accident. The summer before I
started junior high.”

“Were you close to him?”

“He was my hero. And after the
accident, when I was in the hospital—”

She winced and reached up to touch
the scar on my brow.

“Oh god. You were
with
him when he …”

I nodded, and she scrambled onto
her knees on the bed and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Resting my head
on her chest, I breathed in the smell of her. We stayed like that until someone
knocked at the door. When I pulled back, she smiled unsteadily.

At the door, I took the room
service tray and signed the bill. Alex was still kneeling on the bed, her face
red and her cheeks tear-stained. I set everything on the table, and she slid down
and came over to join me.

“I feel like a jerk for even
thinking I had problems,” she mumbled, shaking her head.

I grabbed hold of her and shook
her gently.

“Alex, stop. Please don’t do that.
This is not meant to be whose problems are bigger or more real. This is me not
holding back … and I want you to do the same.”

I let her go and turned around,
putting two slices of pizza on one of the plates and pouring the sparkling
water I had ordered. Then I handed them to Alex before getting my own. There
were chairs everywhere, but Alex went back to the bed and leaned up against the
headboard. Joining her, I watched as she took a bite. When she closed her eyes
and moaned, my jaw clenched and I willed the stiffness in my pants to take a
fucking vacation. Redirecting my energy, I tore through five pieces of pizza
while she finished her two.

“All right, my turn.”

She blinked.

“Okay.”

I hated myself for asking, but I
had to know.

“Who was the guy you were out
with?”

She frowned.

“I really hate your friend James,
by the way,” she muttered.

“Ex-friend. And you don’t have to
tell me if you don’t want.”

Alex shook her head.

“He was working in the bookstore
when I got my books, and he slipped his number in with a bookmark. Julie found
it and texted him telling him I wanted to go out.”

She looked down.

“She thought it would be good for
me, but it was … awkward.
Because I was thinking about you
the entire time, which was awful and mean.
Then I agreed to go out with
him again tonight, but when he tried to kiss me, I sort of slammed the door in
his face. It was terrible …”

Or the best news I had ever heard.
Still, I tried not to smile.

“All right. Easy question next:
your favorite band.”

Alex shook her head.

“Impossible.”

“What do you mean
impossible
?”

She set her plate on the
nightstand and jumped up, returning a second later with her iPhone, which she
unlocked.

“Go ahead. Look at the music.”

I did what she said and laughed.

“Are you sure you’re only
eighteen?”

She groaned.

“Why does everyone always ask me
that?”

“Perhaps because half the music
you own predates your birth?”

“My mom says I was born in the
wrong decade.”

“I think she’s right. But that
doesn’t explain why you don’t have a favorite band.”

“I can give you the top ten albums
I can listen to all the way through, and that’s the best I can do. I like
random songs mostly. My turn. Who was your first and when?”

“Heather Bryant. I was sixteen;
she was a senior. The night didn’t end well.”

I pointed to the scar on my jaw,
and Alex let out a surprised laugh.

“Wow. What a night.”

“Middle name?”

She turned bright pink.

“No!”

“What do you mean,
no
?”

“It’s too embarrassing!”

“Will it help if I tell you mine?”

She shook her head.

“Thomas. Now you.”

Her mouth screwed up in a cute
little frown, and I waved my hand at her to hurry up.

“Jolene.”

“Alexis Jo?”

She scowled.

“See! I told you.
Jolene
was my mom’s obstetrician when I
was born. Obviously my mom was still under the effect of major drugs.”

I laughed.

“And what would you do with your
life if you had complete control and you didn’t have to worry about money?”

“Hmm, I would … rewrite my
favorite books and movies so that they had happy endings.”

“Interesting choice.”

“I’m obsessed with miserably
depressing shit. It’s a character flaw. I think it’s because my brain wants to
fix
it.”

“You could write your own
stories.”

She grinned.

“Yeah, that would be my second
choice.”

“Favorite color?” I asked her.

“Don’t have one.”

She paused, studying me.

“Maybe blue. Okay, my turn. … Why
did you kiss me that first night at Shorenberger?”

“Because I had convinced myself
that I had the thinnest of excuses to do it.”

“But Brit gave you her number and
practically humped your leg before leaving class.”

I laughed.

“And I didn’t give a shit, because
I had spent the entire time imagining peeling off your jeans.”

Alex gulped.

“You did not.”

“In the interest of complete
honesty, you, Alex Reed, have transported me back to the hell of being eighteen
years old.”

She quirked an
eyebrow at me.

“Thanks.”

“Let me clarify. The hell of being
an eighteen-year-old male whose blood supply is being perpetually diverted from
higher cerebral functioning.”

Alex cracked up.

“
Perpetually
?”

“Perpetually.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and I
reached out and took her hand, placing it lightly on the source of my
discomfort. She didn’t move her hand, but her features turned serious.

“I’m sorry … and you think that
eighteen-year-old males have the market cornered on horniness?” She frowned suddenly.
“Oh shit! When is your birthday? James said it was this month.”

Her hand left my cock, and I
stifled a groan of disappointment.

“You have the most random of
thought processes, you know that?”

“Birthday—when is it?” she
demanded.

“The twenty-seventh.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?” she
cried.

“Remember what I just said about
higher cerebral function?”

“Yeah, and my higher reasoning is
about spent,” she giggled. “You’re tough on the old willpower.”

Still smiling, she leaned forward
and kissed my jaw. Then she pulled back and stared at me, like she was waiting
to see what I would do. I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to be virtuous.
Because
this
was not part
of my plan.
The plan had been to maintain my willpower until at least
tomorrow.

“Was it like this with everyone
else you slept with?”

I let out a startled laugh. Her
question managed to put a minor dent in my hard-on, and I wasn’t sure whether
to be disappointed or relieved. The look on Alex’s face wasn’t recriminatory in
any way, just curious.

“Like what?” I asked, trying to
keep my tone diplomatic, not exasperated.

“Well, I don’t know what it was
like for you, but …” Her use of the past tense caused my chest to tighten since
I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. “Well, like James said, I don’t
have anything to compare to. You do.”

I exhaled.

“Alex, part of me wishes I had met
you five years from now when you had more experience.”

Her expression changed.

“You mean after I had slept with
someone else. Which means you regret being my first.”

I grabbed her hand.

“I don’t regret one second of
being with you, but I wanted to give you time to grow and learn without me
getting in the way—”

“You mean without
you
.”

“I thought I was doing the right
thing by walking away from you. And maybe I was, and maybe I’m being selfish
now, but I never want to lose you again.”

She started crying all over again,
and I reached out and wrapped her in my arms.

“When we made love for the first
time—”

She sniffled.

“Aren’t guys supposed to say
when we fucked
?”

“Only if the guy is an insecure
asshole.”

She smiled crookedly.

“Oh, okay. I guess you’re not an
insecure asshole.”

“Most of the time I’d like to
think
I’m not. My point was that being with you is very
different. It isn’t just recreation with you. I feel closer to you than anyone
else.”