Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (3 page)

That’s the question, isn’t it? What matters? I wish I knew.

CHAPTER THREE

- Dani -

As much as I’m trying to distract myself by hanging out with Travis this afternoon, the truth is I’ll be working my butt off until Monday morning.

I’d like to kick Laura in the shin. I won’t, of course, but I need to stand up for myself or she’ll take advantage of me all year. Empirically, I know this. But getting the nerve to not back down is the hard part.

And the way I couldn’t speak to that gorgeous guy yesterday! He smiles, freaking smiles at me, and I stand there like a block of cement. I’m a junior in college at a great university with a three point five GPA. You’d think I’d have some linguistic abilities.

Travis has been frowning since we left the tattoo parlor.

I have to laugh at this whole situation. When I got my tattoo a few weeks ago, Travis decided he wanted one. Except today, he chickened out, and I walked out with piercings instead. I nudge him with my hip, edging him off the sidewalk. “You’re still lusting after Brady, aren’t you?”

He turns toward me, his black hair flipping in his face. “What gave me away?”

“Just a hunch. Too bad Brady doesn’t play for your team.”

“The good ones never do. He seemed pretty into you, though.” Travis flashes that trademark crooked grin, and I shake my head. Travis thinks every guy likes me.

“Brady is, like, a man. He must be twenty-five or twenty-six. At least. I just turned twenty. And he’s all muscly and hard and sexy. There’s no way he’s interested in me.”

It’s Travis’s turn to shake his head and look at me like I’m crazy.

But there’s something else. Even though Brady is good-looking, I can’t stop thinking about the guy from the restaurant.
Jax
. Damn. Even his name is sexy. One smile from him and my panties almost melted off my body. This is what I get for being so judgmental about that girl trying to give him her number.

Travis bumps me with his elbow. “So were you totally turned on while Brady had his hands all over you?”

“Yeah, until he jabbed me with a needle. Twice.” I adjust my bra strap. “Do you think they… look okay?” I can’t talk about the piercings without my face turning crimson.

Travis edges around an old lady walking in the opposite direction, and his eyes fall on me, dipping briefly to my chest. “They’re hot, and you’re gorgeous.”

“You don’t think they make me look a little trampy?” The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to filter them, but it’s an honest question.

“Hell, no.” I love that his response is lightning quick. “So you want to do a little more body modification? It all looks great on you.”

I grin. Travis always makes me feel beautiful. He lived on my floor freshman year, and we immediately hit it off. For the last two years, we’ve been nearly inseparable. He’s beautiful with black hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate. My BFF is tall and lanky and a bit of a brooder. All the boys love him. I do too. He was my shoulder to cry on when Reid and I broke up last spring.

“Besides, if anyone is the tramp in this relationship, it’s me, remember?” He nudges me again. “You’re too pure to be trampy.”

Maybe that’s my problem. Guys view me as the good girl. The nice one.

I blow out a deep breath. “Do you think that’s why Reid lost interest?”

“Reid lost interest ‘cause he’s a douche canoe. Sleeping with your roommate almost within hours of your breakup is the only proof you need. And you weren’t a virgin. You just don’t have sex with every guy on the planet.”

I get that I’m not ugly, and I’m not the kind of person to go fishing for compliments, but my girl-next-door qualities don’t exactly attract the guys who get my toes curling in bed. More like wham-bam-five-minute-slam. And Reid was no exception. Which is why I was so shocked to see him prance out of Ashley’s room an hour after the porno sounds started last spring. Granted, we had broken up a few days before, but still. I’m nauseous thinking about how she screamed the whole time.
“Harder! Oh, God, yes, fuck me harder!”

I thought she had hooked up with another guy she’d been crushing on. Sucker that I am, I was rooting for her, happy she found someone who was hot in the sack. Except when the door opened, my ex-boyfriend sauntered out, shirtless, with his unbuttoned jeans hanging low on his hips, and his penis still saluting at half-mast through his pants. He didn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed. Instead, he gave me a look that suggested I was the problem, not him. Me!

God, I hope she was faking it.

When you see moments like this played out in the movies, the scorned lover always has clever things to say to hurt the guy and show him it’s somehow his loss. Except I didn’t. I was speechless. Couldn’t say a word. I still want to kick myself in the head for being a mute.

I’ve barely been able to say anything to the happy couple the half dozen times I’ve seen them. Of course, I might’ve been distracted since Reid was trying to massage her tonsils with his tongue. Admittedly, Ashley is tall and gorgeous. I’m a pigmy next to her, so I don’t totally blame him for being into her. But do they have to go at it right in front of me? He and I did date for almost a year.

#WhatAWaste

When I ran into them last week, I kinda thought I was over it. But then she accused me of stealing her necklace when I moved out last semester. All I did was stammer and grit my teeth and fantasize about punching her in the kidney.

Travis and I approach a bakery and decide to stop to grab a bite. The aroma of sourdough bread makes my stomach growl, momentarily taking my mind off my asshole ex.

After we settle in a booth and give the waitress our order, I open my journal. “Items number one and two: check!” I take a hot pink sharpie out of my bag and mark them off.

“You wrote a list?” The derision in Travis’ voice is thick, paralleled in intensity by his arched eyebrow.

I smirk back. “It’s to remind me, so I don’t get off track.”

“Can I see this list?”

“You already know what’s on there, and if you see it in writing, you’re going to be obnoxious.”

He reaches for it anyway and tugs like a bulldog until I relent. I watch his face as his eyes travel across the page. “Get a tattoo, get something pierced, have a one-night stand.” Travis’s eyes turn up. “You should have done number three first. It’s more fun. Plus, there’s no pain involved. Unless that’s how you like it.”

That arched eyebrow tilts higher, and I laugh. “Perhaps, but this is about self-discovery, and I’m taking baby steps. Or at least that was the plan.”

Travis waits for the waitress to deliver our salads, and as she walks away, he leans toward me. “I wouldn’t exactly call numbers one and two baby steps,” he mumbles as he reaches for my sharpie and scribbles on the page.

“Hey, you’re not allowed to do that.” No one, and I mean no one, writes in my journal but me. It’s half diary, half sketchbook. Not that there’s anything in there Travis doesn’t already know.

“Too late.” He says it kind of sing-songy, the jubilant tone matching the self-satisfied expression on his face.

I read number four out loud. “Dance on a bar.” I shake my head. “Travis, that’s so slutty.”

He snorts. “You’re the one who wants to have a one-night stand.”

Glancing around the restaurant, I chuck a crouton at his head. “Could you lower your voice? You know I don’t necessarily want a one-night stand. I just…”

He reaches over and grabs my hand. “I know. Your ex head-fucked you, and you need a clean slate. A hot piece of ass will definitely help.”

“Uh, I get that Reid’s an asshole, but did he seriously have to hookup with Ashley?” The thought of them burning up her sheets together still makes me want to jab them both in the eyeballs with dull pencils.

“Live and learn, babe. See, you never need to worry about the bitches because you already know what to expect. It’s the friendly ones you gotta watch out for.”

“That’s deep.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t lose your shit.”

“What was I supposed to say? ‘Ashley, you were a great roommate, right up until you slept with the guy I dated for the last ten months’?” Crumpling my napkin, I shake my head again. “You know I’m not good at confrontations.”

Travis puffs out his chest a little. “I’d be happy to kick his weaselly little ass. You’re too good for him anyway. He deserves that brainless blonde.”

Reid was supposed to be the safe bet, the stable one with the five-year plan and a future of Roth IRAs. So maybe we didn’t rock each other’s world sexually, but I thought we had mutual respect and friendship. I’m an idiot to think that counted for something.

“Slutty girls who masquerade as goodie-two-shoes suck.”

In addition to Reid, Ashley absconded with our other roommates, leaving me to scrounge around at the last minute to figure out another living situation for my junior year of college. If Jenna hadn’t asked me to live with her and her friends, I don’t know what I would’ve done.

But that situation with Ashley has left me gun-shy when it comes to living with new people. Jenna is fun and all, but we don’t really know each other aside from the few laughs we shared in class and a couple of study sessions. And if I’m being honest, Clem scares me a little. Harper seems nice, but we’ve only spoken for two minutes. Plus, the three of them are seniors and have been friends since they were freshmen. I’m the newcomer.

Around a mouthful of salad, I ask, “Why can’t I just live with you this year? Why do I have to live with strangers?”

Travis sighs. “Because we live in a puritanical society that fears my penis will corrupt you, and apparently vaginas won’t.”

Salad chunks shoot out my mouth before my hand contains my explosion of laughter.

Travis reaches over and grabs my other hand. “You can always come stay with me for a few days if things get cray-cray. I know West Campus isn’t as cool as the brownstones on Bay State Road, but if you get tired of all that estrogen, you can chill in
Casa de Travis
any time.”

He and I both have partial scholarships for room and board, but only if we live on campus. I think we’d have a blast living together, but there’s no way either of us can afford the rents in this area.

“Thanks. You’re the best. I’m sure things will be okay.”
I hope.
I flick another crouton in his direction. “Keep next Saturday night free for me, okay?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Jenna’s throwing a bash for one of our roommates, and since I don’t know any of her friends, I need backup. They’re headed to Lansdowne Street, and that’s your hunting ground anyway.”

His uncle’s club Cages is one of the hot bars next to Fenway Park, which runs along the Eastern edge of campus. It’s been our favorite place to hang out since we hit college. It doesn’t hurt that his uncle lets us sneak in for free.

“I’m down.” Travis lifts a bite to his mouth but stops midway. “Maybe we can check one more item off your list.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes.

OMG. I hope he’s talking about dancing on the bar.

CHAPTER FOUR

- Jax -

The whole time I run the field, it rattles around in my head. Why the hell didn’t I get off this afternoon? Who cares that her technique needed more torque? A girl’s attention on my dick should equal complete satisfaction.
But things weren’t quite right with Natasha last night either.

I try to shake off the idea that something is wrong. Maybe it’s time Natasha and I find other fuck buddies. I remind myself that sex is sex. Fucking is fucking. It’s simple. Biological. No need to get philosophical about it.

Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes. Coach runs us hard. All the guys stayed in shape with pre-season training, but today’s ball-busting practice has everything to do with Patterson wanting to show us who’s in charge.

By the time I get home, all I want to do is shower, grab a beer and crash in front of the TV. When my phone lights up with a text, I can barely bring myself to look at the screen. A few minutes later, it starts ringing and doesn’t stop.

“Can’t you take a hint? Me not answering means go the fuck away,” I mumble into the phone.

“Don’t be such a bitch, Avery.” My best buddy Daren laughs in my ear. We’ve been friends since birth. He’s like my brother. We were next-door neighbors and practically lived at each other’s houses growing up. Except unlike me, his parents actually give a shit about him. I figure that’s why he’s considered an upstanding citizen, and I’m the one gracing the gossip columns on page six of the
Post
.

Yeah, in this town, Daren walks on water. It’d be annoying as fuck if he weren’t so likeable.

Only one thing has ever come between us—him screwing over my sister—and I nearly broke his jaw for it. I probably would have, too, if two guys hadn’t pulled me off him. It almost did in our friendship, but we both ended up at Boston College, him on a full ride for football, me for soccer, and somehow we got over it. Mostly.