Fate Book (12 page)

Bridget’s eyes lit up as she took Santiago in. “Sure,” she looked at me, “I mean, if you’re…”

“It’s fine,” I replied.

She walked away, gawking at Santiago’s ass until she disappeared into the other room, where the music roared and bodies were dense.

“What did he mean ‘blacklisted’?” I asked, fearful it was as bad as it sounded.

Santiago towered over me, but he suddenly looked like a kid who’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You weren’t supposed to find out about that.” He ran his hand through his dark hair.

“What did you do?” I seethed. “What is blacklisted?” I repeated.

Sensing imminent drama, a few people in the kitchen moved closer to listen. Santiago grabbed my hand and yanked me outside to the back porch where it was only slightly quieter, and occupied by couples kissing, enjoying the cool ocean breeze.

“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”

“What way?” I asked.

“Like I said, you weren’t supposed to know, but I suppose it’s better you found out. Otherwise, you might think something’s the matter with you.”

No, no, no.
I didn’t like the sound of this at all. “What’s going on?”

“Your name and picture have been circulated to every fraternity on campus. No one will go near you, at least, not in a nonacademic way.”

He’d put the kibosh on anyone dating me?

“Well!” I threw up my hands. “At least you left me options in the non-Greek world.”

He winced and then shook his head no.

He’d gotten the word out to the non-Greeks, too? But how? There were dozens of clubs, sports teams, and academic associations. It was impossible to get to every guy on campus. Wasn’t it?

“How could you?” I fumed. And more importantly, I asked, “Why?”

“It’s easier this way.”

“Oh. I get it.” The tequila kicked in, and my body felt surprisingly strong. I felt surprisingly courageous. I felt…angry! “You want to control me, own me. You sick…stalker!”

“My interest in you is purely…”

He was about to tip his hand. “What? Scientific? Professional? Extraterrestrial?”

He crossed his meaty arms over his chest.

“Okay. Well, I’ve had enough. You said you came back because I wished it. So now I wish you away. Shoo! Shoo!”

“Doesn’t work like that. I’m not a genie—are you drunk?”

“Not yet, but as soon as the rest of that drink absorbs into my bloodstream, I sure the hell will be! And do you know what I’m going to do?”

The porch wobbled under my feet.

“Do tell, little girl.”

Son of a
—I slapped him hard. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You…
monster
.”

I stomped inside and charged through the kitchen into the overcrowded living room where I found Bridget dancing with that blond guy. I threw my arms into the air and let out a “Woo!” that was echoed by the rowdy crowd. The tequila made a warm home inside my chest and urged me to do many things I’d regret in the morning.
Like kissing that really hot guy with the big blue eyes who’s watching you dance?

I beckoned him with my index finger, surprised when it actually worked. He was even cuter up close.

“Hi. What’s your name?” he asked, rubbing himself against me to the beat of the music—it was impossible not to, given how crowded the room was.

“I’m…
Jane
!” Dakota was, after all, blacklisted. But not Jane.

“Mike.”

“Hi, Mike. I hope you don’t mind, but I really want to kiss you.”

Yep. That was the tequila speaking.

“Okay by me.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and let ’er rip. But instead of seeing Mike, I only saw my sexy ghost.

God, it felt so wrong. So sinful. But I knew it wasn’t the real thing, and that just made it even better. It was only safe when Santiago remained in the confines of fantasyland. I leaned into Mike and savored the feeling of his hands running over my body.

I expected at any moment to feel Santiago’s real hands prying us apart. But that didn’t happen. When I broke the kiss and looked up, I merely saw Santiago leering from across the room. He lifted his beer in my direction as if to say, “Enjoy the day.”

I nodded at him.
I intend to.

Then he disappeared.

Bastard.

Surprisingly, the rest of the evening did not turn into that cliché of a college freshman girl away from home for the first time with access to unlimited alcohol. In fact, I felt quite proud. I kissed. I danced. I drank an incredible amount of water. I did not vomit on anyone’s hydrangeas or pass out. I didn’t end up in some strange guy’s bed. Nope. I walked out of the party with my chin held high, a giant blister on my toe, and a sober chauffeur, Bridget, to take us home.

As Mike and that blond guy from earlier—Eric—walked us to my car, I kept flashing glances over my shoulder, expecting Santiago to jump out from the bushes and beat the crap out of them. Or bark orders at me. Or throw me over his shoulder like his prized kill. No, I hadn’t seen him for hours, but I still felt his eyes on me, watching from somewhere. Or maybe it was simply a really bad case of paranoia. A completely justified case of paranoia!

Bridget and Eric talked and giggled quietly before she loaded herself into the driver’s seat. Mike was about to kiss me when Eric said, “Dude. No. Don’t kiss her.”

Mike looked at him as if he were asking for an ass whooping.

“Dude,” Eric said, “that’s Dakota Dane.”’

Mike looked down at me. “But you said your name was Jane.”

“I—I don’t know what this blacklisting crap is, but it doesn’t involve me.”

Mike stepped back. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

“No—I…”

He walked away. No, wait. He ran away. As quickly as his feet could carry him.

I slid into the passenger side of my car and closed the door.
Damn it!
Was this why Santiago didn’t jump all over the guy? He knew this would happen!

“Well,” Bridget said, “that blacklist thing is certainly going to put a huge crimp in your social life. Once you’re on, it’s almost impossible to be removed. So, who’d you piss off?”

I shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next morning, like so many mornings before this one, I rolled over in bed, half-awake, thinking that the events of the prior day had been a dream. Nothing but a bad, bad dream. But as my mind floated up from the depths of a sleepy swamp, I knew in my gut that Santiago’s return was real. And while a tiny part of me couldn’t help but feel fascinated—the man was a walking, talking question mark with killer looks—my saner side knew better.

Question was, what was I going to do about him? What
could
I do about him? Tell the police, the FBI? File a restraining order? Laws couldn’t stop a man who seemed to know my every move, who knew my secrets, who had connections with everyone. No solution fit, but I wasn’t about to give up. And I’d be damned if I would let him take away my dreams.

I quickly dialed my father and got his voicemail. I left an urgent message and then tried my mother.

Voicemail. Damn it!

All right. Breathe. Calm yourself. Think.
I pondered for several moments, but came up empty-handed in the solutions department. As for emotions? I had an abundance of those; primarily pissed off. Santiago’s unexpected return would not deter me from my mission—having a life! A perfect life. Which is exactly what I planned to do while I figured this out.

Wanting to let Bridget sleep, I grabbed my clothes, showered, dressed, and went to the café to pick up a much-needed coffee before heading off to buy books and explore the campus.

Maybe I’d call Bridget later to check out the beach or do a little shopping downtown.

But as I strolled the manicured grounds between modern buildings of steel and glass, map in one hand, coffee in the other, I found myself looking over my shoulder and feeling the need to check out every student, just to be sure they weren’t Santiago in disguise or something. I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes on me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I groaned. My hands were full, so I walked over to a bench and set down my cup so I could dig for the phone.

I looked at the screen.
Santiago. How did I know?
I answered but didn’t say anything.

“Good morning. How’s your coffee?”

Shit.
I spun around but saw only backpack-toting students, trees, and buildings.
Son of a bitch.

I didn’t reply.

“The silent treatment again, I see,” he said.

That’s right, you psycho.

“So, you’re still upset then?” he asked.

Yep. You got it!

“I don’t blame you. That’s why I wanted you to know that it wasn’t supposed to be like this again.”

“Like what? You mysteriously showing up like a creepy stalker on my first day of college, ruining my life with your sick mind games, and destroying any chance I have of getting a date?”

There was an awkward silence before he responded. “Your father is coming soon. Yes?”

What the hell kind of answer was that? “Yes. Why?”

“Be ready.”

The call dropped and my blood pressure dropped right with it. I immediately dialed my father again, but it went to voicemail as expected. I hesitated for a moment, tempted to leave a scathing message, but hung up and dialed my mother again instead. The call also went straight to voicemail. “Mom. It’s me. We need to talk. Santiago is back. He’s saying I should ‘be ready’ for Dad’s visit. Do you know what’s going on?” I sighed loudly. “Call me, okay?”

I headed toward the bookstore, fuming. I was not going to let this happen. This was my life. Whatever weirdness was going on, whatever that “be ready” crap meant, I was not going to curl into a little ball and cower.

“You are not ruining my day!” I barked to an imaginary Santiago. Or maybe not. Maybe he could hear me.

I threw my coffee in the trash, got out my class syllabi, and marched into the crowded store.

It took me twenty minutes to cool off and find my way around, and another forty to find my books. Distracted and mumbling angrily under my breath, I went to the back of the line, which snaked around the entire edge of the store, and plunked my basket onto the floor.
He’s not getting away with this. I don’t care if that bastard owns my dreams; he can’t have the daytime, too.

“I’m taking that class, too.”

I looked up and saw a tall, blond guy wearing shorts and a T-shirt, staring down at my chemistry book. He had a boyish smile and blue eyes. Pretty cute, actually.

I suddenly felt completely embarrassed. Had he heard me spouting off to myself?

I cleared my throat. “Professor Robins? Tuesday and Thursday at 2:00 p.m?” I said.

“Yep. Me, too,” he said happily. “I hear she’s tough, especially on her undergrads—feels it’s her mission to toughen everyone up for upper-division courses.”

“Oh. I hadn’t heard that. But I know there’s a chemistry club. I’m thinking of joining,” I said.

He raised his brows. Had I sounded too geeky? This was college. Wasn’t being academic cool now?

“Well, if I have time for it,” I added. “So much fun stuff going on around here. Beach, parties, yunno.”
Why did I said that? Woman up, Dakota
. “But I’m signing up for chem club right after this.”

His smile returned. “Cool. Well, if you want a study partner, let me know. I’m Greg, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“Dakota Dane.” I shook his hand and watched the color drain from his face. “What’s the matter?”

“Oh. Shit. Yunno, I forgot my wallet in the dorm. Guess I’ll have to come back later.” He set his pile of books on a shelf.

“I can hold your place,” I said. “I’m sure it’ll be an hour before we get to the register.”

“Uh. No. No, thanks. I don’t mind coming back later. It’s no big deal.”

“Okay. See you in class?” I said, but he was already halfway out the door.

I sighed. “Blacklisted.” This wasn’t happening.

~ ~ ~

The next day, I went to a freshman safety orientation, met Bridget’s sorority sisters-to-be, and attended a welcome party at the beach. I wish I could say I was enjoying the incredible experience of college life and meeting new people, but each time I had to introduce myself to anyone, especially guys, I found myself shrinking away or making some lame excuse to leave. What if they recognized my name?

It completely sucked.

When classes finally started on Wednesday, I felt a sense of relief. I could focus on something other than my nonexistent social life. That relief evaporated, though, the moment I sat down in the front row, ready to take my very first college course, when my advanced calculus professor called my name. A low murmur broke out in the room behind me, and the guy next to me, some straggly haired stoner-looking guy, got up and moved.

What the hell?
This felt all too reminiscent of being the plague of humanity in high school, except that I didn’t have Mandy.

How dare Santiago! How dare he do this to me!
I sat up straight and channeled my rage into extremely thorough note taking. The moment the professor ended his lecture, I was out the door and calling Santiago. Unlike any of the other times I’d called his number, this time it rang. He immediately picked up, but didn’t say anything.

“I know you’re listening, you fucking bastard. I’m not going to let you do this. I’m not letting you take away my life.”

“What if I’m helping you keep it?” he said in a low, no-nonsense tone.

“Bullshit!” I barked, storming through campus. It was a bright sunny morning, and the campus crawled with students who now veered from my path, afraid I’d gone postal. “You listen to me, Santiago. You will take my name off that blacklist. You will never come near me again. If you do, so help me God, I will rip out your heart.”

I heard a faint chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“What?” I seethed. “You think this is funny!”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I was thinking that you actually look like you might tear out my heart. It’s a relief to see you stand up for yourself like this.”