Finding Dandelion (Dearest #2) (4 page)

“You going out tonight?” he asks.

“I’m too tired. Just gonna hang out here.”

“I was picking up some dinner. I’ll swing by, and we can play some
Call of Duty
.” In true Daren Sloan fashion, he doesn’t ask.

An hour later, we’ve got our game faces on as I blow out his guts with my AK-12 assault rifle.

“Fuck!” he shouts at the flatscreen.

Satisfied with my win, I sink back into the distressed leather of my couch and grin. I’m not an idiot. I know my days of being able to hold my own against Daren are long gone, so I take the moment to relish the virtual ass-kicking. I used to be able to go toe to toe with Daren, but since we hit college, he’s had to bulk up for football while soccer keeps me leaner.

“Pussy.” I can’t help but goad him a little.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Speaking of, where’s your ball and chain tonight?”

Daren exhales loudly, but instead of defending that bitch, he just shrugs. He’s been dating Veronica on and off since he broke up with my sister. I keep thinking one day he’s going to wake up and smell the fucking coffee and see that Veronica is only after him because he’s rich, not to mention the star quarterback for BC. But their last serious breakup was two years ago, and I’m starting to worry he might actually marry that twat. I don’t know why. She treats him like shit. If that’s true love, keep me the hell away from it.

“Doing anything for your birthday?” he asks as he resets the game with one hand while grabbing his beer with the other.

“I’m headed to a party at BU and then going to Cages on Lansdowne. You should come.” I don’t mention who’ll be there. I’m sure he knows.

He looks like he’s considering it for a minute before he shrugs again.

“I can’t do shit until the season is over. Coach will lop off my balls if I go out.” Daren isn’t in the running for the Heisman Trophy for nothing. This guy works out like a madman. I get exhausted thinking about it. “This spring, though, we’re doing Maui. My treat. A late twenty-first birthday gift. What do you say?”

“Definitely. Get me out of Boston. If it snows this year like it did last, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

I pause the game to reload my plate with food, and that’s when I hear the yelling.

“Shit. They’re at it again,” I groan. Reason one hundred and one to never get married: Hannah and Greg. I motion toward the adjacent condo. They’ve been my neighbors for the past two years, since Nick and I moved here sophomore year. “They’re splitting up.”

When a knock comes at my door a few minutes later, Daren raises his eyebrows. “Dude, I hope you don’t have anything to do with their problems.”

 
“Fuck you, man. I don’t touch married women.” The conversation I had with my roommate last night comes to mind.
Okay, so make that three kinds of chicks I don’t touch.
I may be an asshole, but I’m not a total bottom-feeder.

When I open the door, Hannah is standing there with her four-year-old daughter Chloe, whose face is wet with tears.

“You guys okay over there?” I don’t mention that I can hear the yelling, although she must realize it.

Hannah nods and takes the sleeve of her sweatshirt and wipes her daughter’s face. “Can I ask a favor, Jax? Would you mind watching Chloe again? Maybe for an hour?”

“No problem.” I reach over and swing the little girl into my arms. “Hey, Chloe, guess what? I recorded that show you like. That one with the princess who talks to the animals.”

She immediately perks up. “
Sofia the Fuwst
?” She has trouble pronouncing her R’s, which makes her even more adorable.

“I think that’s the one. Go ask my buddy over there in the living room, and he’ll put it on for you.”

A small smile breaks out on her face as I set her down on the floor, and she scurries over to the couch.

“Thanks, Jax.” Hannah looks relieved. I’ve watched her daughter a couple of times when she had to run a few errands. She lowers her voice. “I hate that she has to hear us fight. I really appreciate you watching her. I swear I’ll bake you more cookies.”

I snicker. “I’ll never turn away food, but you don’t have to do that. She’s a great kid. Come get her when you’re ready. No rush.”

Hannah closes her eyes briefly. “I owe you.” Then she turns and walks back to her apartment.

When I sit on the couch, Daren already has cued up Chloe’s show, but she’s curled up in the far corner of the couch.

“Chloe, baby, are you hungry? Would you like a bite to eat?”

Her eyes widen. “Yes, pweeze.”

I grab part of a hoagie, toss it on a plate, and pour a cup of juice, which I put down in front of her. As she reaches for her food, she looks up and grins. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a soft spot for this kid. She’s funny and sweet and sincere, the way I imagine most girls are before they grow up into soul-suckers.

“Chloe, this is my friend Daren.”

She takes a bite of her sandwich and waves at him before turning back to me. “Jax, can we make a fort again? After
Sofia
is over?”

“Sure thing. We can even play the princess and the knight. You’ll be the princess, of course. I’ll be the knight. This time, you can even ride a horsey.”

I laugh as Daren realizes my four-year-old neighbor is about to wrap him around her little finger.

An hour later, I hear the front door open.

“What the hell, Jax?” Nick doesn’t sound amused.

I call out, “Watch your language. Chloe’s hanging out with us.” I peek out from under a cushion as Chloe and Daren come charging out from behind the couch.

“Slay the dragon!” Daren yells as he carries Chloe on his back. She squeals, her laughter amusing me like nothing else can.

Chloe takes her aluminum foil sword and jabs it at my roommate who shoots me a dirty look.

“This is your emergency?” Nick huffs.

“What? We needed a dragon. I’m the knight. Daren’s the horse. Clearly, we needed one more person.”

Nick leans down to ruffle Chloe’s blonde curls. “Hey, sweetie. You having fun with Uncle Jax?”

She grins back. “Yup. We’ve alweady taken back the castle.”

“Good job.” He smiles at her, and then he takes a second to survey the damage to our living room, no doubt pausing on the fact that I’ve used his comforter and pillows to construct our fort.

“Sorry, man.” I shrug. “Like I said. Emergency.”

I can guess the curse words that are on the tip of his tongue, but then Chloe grabs his pinky and gives him that toothy grin, and I know he’s done.

Nick sighs and then leans down.

“’Kay, where’s the dragon’s lair, Chloe?”

She points toward the kitchen and starts clapping, excited that he’s joining her game.

“Do you want me to wear the oven mitts again? They made for pretty good dragon claws last time.”

“Yes! Wear the mitts!”

When Chloe takes off to hide in her fortress, I pull Nick aside. “Sorry, man. She was really upset because Hannah and Greg were yelling. I wanted to cheer her up.”

He nods. “I get it.” He notices that I’m sporting a Batman cape and laughs. “You really went all-out, huh?”

“Go hard or go home,” I quip.

“The only girl who’s managed to win your heart, and it’s a four-year-old.” He slaps me hard on the back.

“Yeah, well, what’s not to love? Besides, she doesn’t deserve the shit that’s going down in her life, and if I can make her smile, then maybe I’m not so useless after all.”

He pauses and turns to look me in the eye. “You’re a good guy, Jax.”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs as I punch him in the arm before I run off to help Chloe fortify her castle.

“Chloe,” I call out, “if anyone can kill the dragon, it’s you, baby. Get your horsey to cross the moat, and I’ll help chase the beast out of his cave.”

I wish understanding all women were this easy. But their motives are never this simple.

CHAPTER FIVE

- Dani -

My mother’s words are the last thing I expect to be thinking about as I’m standing in front of a full-length mirror at a boutique on Newbury Street a week later.
No regrets
. But I doubt this is what she had in mind.

“If I twirl, people will see my hooch.” My sweaty palms attempt to tame the layers of hot pink tulle that bounce beneath the short black skirt.

Travis crouches behind me and squints one eye. “I don’t see the hooch to which you are referring, but maybe I can help.” He fluffs my skirt as though he’s offended the fabric is obstructing his view. “Sweets, don’t take this the wrong way, but those boy shorts are hot.” He slaps my ass, and I jump. “Maybe flashing a little hooch is a good thing.”

“But don’t you think Britney regretted flashing her muff?”

“You’re not going commando. You’re not even showing any labia.”

I whirl around and smack him square on the shoulder. “That’s gross!”

He laughs, rubbing his arm. “What? You took all that time for the full-on salon treatment of this area. Might as well flash it a little.”

Covering my face, I groan. “Please, let’s never again discuss my Brazilian wax again. That hurt like a motherfucker.”

He covers his mouth as his eyes widen. “Wow. I got you to say the f-word. Points for Travis!”

“You are no longer allowed to talk me into any more beauty treatments.”

Grabbing a long lock of my dark brown hair, he twirls it with a strand of pink, brings it to his nose and sniffs it. He makes a face like he approves of the way it smells. Weirdo.

He raises his eyebrow. “I think you should knock number three off your list tonight. You’ll dance with me, and we’ll scope out the perfect hottie. Of course, if he’s gay, I get to bat.”

The thought of a one-night stand makes me nervous. Not like hot-guy-in-my-pants nervous, but creeper-who-slobbers-and-wants-to-put-his-balls-in-my-shoes nervous. Picking up a random guy sounds so hit-or-miss. Knowing my luck, I’ll end up with a bad kisser with a furry fetish.

I motion toward Travis. “How thoughtful of you to stand in if the need arises.”

“What are gay best friends for?”

I turn around and push out my lower lip. “Why couldn’t you be straight? We’d make such a great couple.”

He pulls me to his chest. “I know. We’d be perfect. We could even color-coordinate our outfits when we go out for dates.”

“Oh, that’d be fun!”

“Right?” He flips his hair out of his face. “By the way, tonight, don’t ask the guy’s name or you’ll get attached, and you don’t want to get attached.” He makes it sound so simple. Travis lets go of me to grab a shirt off a hanger. He holds it up. “Here, try this on.”

After pulling off my shirt, I slide on the tiny spaghetti-strapped tank top. He reaches for my shirt and tucks it into my skirt before he kisses the top of my head.

“Total hotness. This pink push-up bra makes your hooters look huge.”

“It’s an optical illusion. I’m tiny, so proportionally, they look big.” I used to hate having boobs when I did gymnastics. Now, they’re not so bad.

As I change out of the clothes into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Travis holds the skirt up to his waist, and I start laughing.

“Are you thinking of going in drag?” He’d make a gorgeous girl because he’s a gorgeous boy, but I know he’s not wired that way.

He rolls his eyes and hands me my clothes.

When I finally check out the price tag, I wish I hadn’t. “Crap. This is expensive. Which reminds me, thanks for snagging the art lab job for me. Professor Zinzer is amazing, and working there will force me to do something with my journal of ideas. I think I’m going to love that gig.” Except for my stupid co-worker who thinks I’m a pushover already. But I’m excited to hang out and soak in the creativity in the art department.

“My pleasure. If I can’t get you to switch majors, at least this way I can try to brainwash you. Why you’d rather hang out with suits all day is beyond me.”

Nobody gets my business major, not even my best friend. Hell, I don’t even understand it some days. While I do okay in those classes, they don’t rock my world like art does. But what the hell am I supposed to do with an art degree?

With a business degree, I’ll be able to do things for myself. I watched my mom implode after my dad left us. No, thanks. I’m all for dating and love and hot sex, but there’s one thing I have to do for myself and that’s make my own way.

* * *

Several hours later, as the pounding beat of music vibrates all of my internal organs, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. Travis keeps saying no one really watches, but I’m sure that’s so I don’t back out and hide under a table. Somehow this activity went from dancing on a bar to writhing in a cage, and for the last twenty minutes, I’ve been trying to psych myself up for this.