Every Little Secret (Second Chances #2) (4 page)

She orders a soda and waits, not looking at me. “I can take care of myself, ya know.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you following me?”

“A guy can’t have a drink after a hard day of listening to lectures?”

She shrugs. “I’ve just never seen you here before.”

“Sorry I ran away that night.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Maybe if I get this off my chest, I’ll stop thinking about her, stop obsessing.
 

“Hey. I’m not stupid. I saw the look on your face before you ran. You were terrified. Of what I don’t know.”

I laugh, an ironic laugh that has no cheer. “That obvious, huh?”

“Yep.”
 

The bartender brings her a tall glass with fizz almost overflowing the top. I have seconds to talk. I steal a glance. “Hey, take care of yourself. Okay?”

Her eyes soften and for that moment a spark shoots between us. The room feels hotter. She places her hand over mine briefly, just a brush, but then she yanks it away, annoyance flashing across her face.
 

“Thanks, but like I’ve said, I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve got a boyfriend and I don’t need another one.”

Then she’s gone.

Chapter 3

Carly

The sheets are smooth on my skin. His body is warm next to mine, his arm draped over me. The heat seeps through my T-shirt and tries to reach my heart. Shelby was gone for the night and somehow Chad weaseled his way into my bed. I’ll admit, it didn’t take much. Everything should be fine, just dandy. I’ve got an amazing guy—with just a tiny bit of an anger problem—who loves me. He said so.
 

So why was sex last night a complete and utter turn off? Maybe I have a problem. Maybe it’s me.

Over the past couple weeks his sweet words covered my confusion in a haze I can’t see through anymore, a thick cloud that disorients everything about that night. Too many things crash and bang and fill the space in my head. Too many doubts and fears. I turn to what is comfortable. What is accepted. What is love. Somehow that triumphant feeling I had diving into the ocean is nowhere to be found.

Chad stirs. My breath hitches. Inch by inch, I slide across the bed, his hand dragging across the bare skin of my stomach. Out of bed, I slip into my robe and walk to the window. The early morning sun creeps past my blinds along with the cool air that steals through and skims my face when I press my nose to the window.
 

“Hey, baby. Come back to bed. I’ve still got a few minutes.”
 

I try not to physically show what I feel on the inside. What screams in my chest, begging to be released. That a three-minute screw before coffee is not what I want anymore.
 

“I’ve got class.” I still keep my back to him.

“I’ll make it worth your time.” He tries to sound all seductive but it falls flat. If anything, it sounds downright cheesy.

“Yeah, but I have to study before class.” The lie slips out easily.

He laughs seductively, his voice low and raspy. “I’ve got some research of my own to do.”

I take a deep breath and let the tiny stream of cold air cleanse the bitter feelings rising fast and furious. It doesn’t work but I plaster on a smile and turn. The sheet hangs loosely around his waist, his bare chest exposed, the ridges of his chiseled stomach that used to turn me on. At one point this was all I wanted, all I needed. At what point did it stop being enough? At what point did I start wanting more?

My dad’s words echo in my mind.
Stay in your place. Unlovable. Good for nothing
.

His words buried me long ago. So what is this crazy seedling of something more sprouting in my life? I squash it before it gets me into trouble and then climb back into bed for that three-minute screw.

Thirty minutes later, my hair still damp from a late shower, I sneak into The Watering Hole. I breathe in the smell of coffee and pastries. My morning ritual. This I cherish. This is all mine. I purchase a coffee and bagel and find my corner seat, away from the crowds. Here, in this place, I find my strength for the day. Mindless chatter and laughter fills the space between the four walls, but it fades into a calming white noise while I wake up with my daily shot of caffeine.

Classmates drift by. Some are dressed to the hilt, ready for the day and others stumble through as if they just rolled out of bed. But it doesn’t matter how awake they are. Their eyes glance off and see past me as if an invisible wall shields me from them and the possibility of friendship. I don’t do girlfriends. They’ve never ended well in the past. I learned my lesson well in high school so I just focus on the blurred colors of people as they drift by. That and my bagel with strawberry cream cheese.
 

The day crawls by slower than ever. The teachers’ lectures turn into a drone that lulls me to sleep. My head is nodding by the end of every class. After a quick walk across campus, I study in the library, keeping an eye on my watch so I’m not late for work. Dad hates it when I’m a minute late.
 

Around three o’clock, I pack up and head to my car. I kick at the loose stones as I walk, wondering how I can explain to Chad that when he stays over, I don’t sleep, and when I don’t sleep, I have a crappy next day. My grades can’t lower too much or Dad will give me another lecture and another threat about cutting me off.
 

I turn the corner of the last academic building, and see Noah. I press into the shadows, fading into the brick wall like a wallflower.

He’s alone. Annoyingly pleasant to the eye as usual too. Today more than ever I want to reach out to him. I want to cross the green lawns, step past the stone benches, and touch his hand. Invite him into my life. At least crack open the possibility of getting to know the mystery behind him. I take a step forward but my chest tightens, sending a flurry of panic through me. What am I thinking?
 

I should leave, but I stay a little bit longer.

He slips past me, his gaze forward, unwavering. If he would just glance to the side he’d see me. He opens the door to the student center. A crowd of students following him hide my view. At some point he got under my skin and I’m not happy about that!

My watch alarm beeps.
 

“Shit!” It’s set to warn me that it’s way past time to head to my dad’s office. One more reason to not like Noah. I walk but it turns into a run as I dart across campus to the parking lot. Tingles of dread settle in my stomach as I screech out of the lot and drive to the next town. The disapproving glare and warning that awaits me has me speeding through the streets.

The office seems quiet so my hopes rise that I can slip in and start filing without my dad knowing I’m late. It’s not a large office, just part of one floor rented in an office complex. My dad’s part consists of a tiny front entrance, an office and a copy/file room, where I usually do all the grunt work.
 

I hesitate at the threshold, at the empty feeling that fills the room. The secretary is away from her desk. Through the open door, I see his oak desk with his fake gold-plated name and the glass paperweight. The industrial carpet is firm under my feet. The hard light and sharp angles of the room are meant to intimidate. The stale smell of his fading air freshener tingles my nose. Images file past like a slideshow of all the different girls he’s met here after work just to hand his papers over to me while he leaves for drinks. These memories jab into the pieces of my heart that still give a damn.

I practically tiptoe across the room and nudge open the copy room door. If I’m lucky, he’s out for an early dinner or very late lunch. A sigh of relief escapes as I enter the room.

Dad has his latest against the back wall. He has his fingers entwined in her long red hair. She’s laughing, he’s wooing—I’ve interrupted. I try to back up but at the last second, he looks up while whispering in her ear. His eyes catch mine with a glint of complete annoyance that I walked in on his latest pursuit.

She must sense the change in him, because she peeks at me, her green eyes narrowing. His response is what I expect. “That’s just my daughter. Nothing to worry about.”

That hurts, like a knife slashed across my heart. More than anything I want to be something, to be someone to worry about. I want to brandish his sins like a weapon and slice through his fabrication of lies and deceit.

“Carly.” His cold, controlled voice knocks me out of my thoughts. Underneath the quiet restraint lies a rage that burns inside him. But image counts. He won’t lose it in front of his new girl. Or maybe it’s an old girl. I’ve lost track. “Why don’t you start with the cleaning?”

“Right. Sorry.” I flip around and move to the small cleaning closet. I grab the supplies, wishing for the hundredth time that my life was different. Why did I stand staring so long? I should be used to this by now. I stumble down the hall to the bathroom. I’ll start there, then I’ll polish his desk, then I’ll vacuum.
 

I spray and scrub. My fingers wrap around the cleaning cloth as I press into the ceramic, bringing it to a gleam. With every sound, I expect his harsh words. I scrub harder at a spot ingrained on the white sink, a mar that won’t fade even with time.
 

Next, I move to the floor. Discouragement pulls me in like a whirling vortex. It’s been a while since I walked in on my dad like that. Usually, he’s on his way out or he just ignores me other than checking up on my grades. I always hope it will be the last time and he’ll get his act together.
 

It hasn’t always been like this. At some point, Dad just gave up. When my mom knew about his ways and left, he got worse. I guess when he looks at me, it’s just a reminder of everything he lost and the asshole he’s become. Except he took it to another level, as if every time he cheats proves he doesn’t care.
 

The door to the outside office closes. The new flavor of the month is gone. His footsteps fall on the floor. They draw closer. Then stop. “Come here, Carly.” His words are clipped and stern.

I get to my feet but hesitate before walking closer to him. I hate the words flooding from my mouth, the begging, the apologies. They tumble out, letting him know that it was a complete accident. I had no idea. I didn’t see much. I wouldn’t say anything.

“Come.” His words cut through my chatter.

I walk forward, trying to make it to him while keeping my dignity, without my knees giving away.

“You were late.” His eyes pierce through me as if any lie wouldn’t be believable.

I lift my chin a little higher, mustering up as much pride as I can. “I stayed late to talk with a professor.”
 

“Tell the truth.”

“I…am.” But he hears the hesitation.

“The truth.” He tilts his head, knowledge lighting in his eyes. “Is this about a boy?”

“I’m sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.”

“Be sure that it doesn’t. You may leave for the day. I’ll take it from your pay.”

“Yes, sir.”

He stands, blocking the doorway for another few seconds before stepping aside and letting me pass. Somehow I make it to my car.
 

The engine purrs to life. I must know the road back to campus by heart because when I pull into the parking lot I don’t remember how I got here. The world is numb. I’m numb. I drop my head to the steering wheel and take in a few deep breaths, regaining my composure, fighting the seesaw of emotions teetering between rage and sadness.

I never should’ve lost track of time watching Noah. I know better.
 

Someone knocks at my window. I jump and instinctively look.

Noah.

Noah

I knock on the window but she ignores me. I rap again. “Carly?” When she finally turns, the pain settles her in eyes like deep pools. It cuts straight through me. I’ve been there more than once.

She looks at me with no expression and turns her head the other way, letting it rest against the steering wheel. Is she okay?
 

I bang this time. “Come on, open up!”
 

After a few seconds, she lifts her head. Without looking at me, she whips the rearview mirror around. With jerky movements she opens her purse and dabs her face with make-up. She runs a comb through her hair and gloss across her lips.

When she opens the door, the mask is back in place and she’s a different person than the girl who sat in the car moments ago. She barely smiles. “What? Are you stalking me again?”
 

“Hi to you too. And no, I’m about to head out. Why are you parking down here and not by your dorm?”
 

She reaches into the backseat for her book bag. “It’s too late. I won’t get a spot.” She turns it around on me. “I’m surprised you’re still here. Do you live on campus?”
 

“Um, no I live off campus.” I don’t admit it’s with my parents. I’m waiting for a crack in the veneer. Some sign that her pretense will crumble, but she straightens her back and walks toward the dorms, her steps confident and sure.
 

I don’t follow her. “Are you okay?”

She stops walking, then turns. “Of course.”
 

The make-up and her forced smile help a little bit but the hurt and pain is written across her features. She’s shut me out. I have a feeling if I press with questions, she’ll never talk to me again.
 

“I was heading out for a caramel apple they sell at the corner store. Want to come?” That’s a lie. But girls can’t refuse caramel, right?
 

She folds her arms across her chest, flashing me a flirty look, raised eyebrows and all. “Are you still trying to get in my pants? Seducing me with sweets.”
 

I stand on shifting sands, no idea which direction to take our conversation. “It works every time.”
 

“Fuck off.” Then she walks away.

Wrong choice. As soon as I said it, I knew, but I’ve been out of the dating game or even talking-to-girls game so long that I’m rusty. I scramble after her, reaching the edge of the parking lot before her. I touch her arm, but she stiffens and jerks away. “I said no.”