Inhale, Exhale (3 page)

“You’re one to talk. I don’t see you sportin’ any arm candy. When’s the last time you even had a date? Or hell, a one-night stand?” He crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly.

“Yeah, but that’s by choice. I don’t need the hassle or drama right now, and that’s all these spoiled sorority girls bring. I’ve got to finish my Masters so I can get a job out in Silicon Valley and get out of the humid-as-fuck hell-hole that is Southern Georgia.”

JT scooted back to his workstation. “Oh God, not this again. If I have to hear about ‘The Plan’ one more time, I might poke my eyes out with a spoon. I think I’d rather be forced to teach computer basics to the Senior Center than listen to that crap again.”

“I’m not gonna make you hear it again, I’m just sayin’ that you’re two years older than me and I’m more of an adult than you. It might not be a bad thing to grow up a little, Peter Pan.”

“What? And be like you? I’ve known people in retirement communities with more of a social life than you. All you ever do is work, study, and hide in that crappy apartment of yours. If it wasn’t for rowing, I don’t think you’d willingly socialize at all. Do you even remember what fun feels like?”

“I have fun,” I protested.
Well, I sometimes have fun
. “And it’s called being an adult. I have responsibilities. Goals. You know, other than getting shit-faced or seeing if I can remember some random girl’s name in the morning. Maturity! You should try it sometime.”

I knew I was a little more boring than most guys my age, but I couldn’t afford to slack off. I refused to end up like my father, who got married right after high school, never went to college, and then was stuck with no options after he took a spill off a ladder while painting a house one day. He was put on disability when I was ten and hadn’t been able to find a decent job since.

Then Mom died in a car accident when I was barely sixteen, and Dad shut down. She was the greatest woman in the world, and I understood why my dad loved her so much, but it was like losing both parents when the depression took over. His grief consumed him and he’d been a shell of a person ever since.

I was forced to grow up fast, taking jobs in high school fixing computers or, when I was desperate for cash, hacking for anyone who’d pay. I had always been good with computers, and it was easy money. I felt guilty as hell doing it, but it was either that or go hungry after Dad spent the last fifty bucks of his SSI check on scratch offs.

I quickly earned a reputation as a discreet and reliable hacker, changing grades here and there or wiping a stolen cell phone or computer clean for resale. I knew it was wrong, but I was desperate. And as soon as I graduated with a secure full ride to college, I refused to do it ever again.

What I was forced to deal with as a teenager was the main reason I rarely dated now. Not that I didn’t miss all the fun that went along with dating, but I never wanted to be put in his position, where I gave every part of myself to another person and had nothing left when they died. I needed the purpose, focus, and stability a good career provided, and I needed to do everything in my power to make sure that happened. Girls didn’t fit in the picture.

JT’s voice jarred me from my thoughts. “How about, instead, we head over to Savannah tonight and pick up a couple sweet vacationing honeys we can give the down-and-dirty personal tour? C’mon, be my wingman. Look, don’t take this wrong ‘cause I don’t swing that way, but you’ve got everything the girls want. I mean face it, man, you know the girls would drop their panties at just the sight of that mug of yours, with the All-American look you’ve got goin’ on. And I know you spend hours workin’ out and rowing for our crew team, so your body is almost as killer as mine.” He flexed a muscle at me, but I rolled my eyes. “Chicks love you, and together we could score the cream of the crop. And then make them cream. Get it?”

Was this guy for real? “First, it’s a Monday, JT. And second, I’m not driving an hour one way to hit on girls. I can do that here in town.” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew the mistake I’d made. I’d opened Pandora’s Box and given him the idea I wanted to hang out with him tonight and hit on girls.

“Sweet. So where we going then? The Corner Bar? Hightowers? Dirty Pete’s?”

God, it’d been forever since I’d been at any of those places. When did I become this boring? Not dating seriously was one thing, never going out was another. I was driven, not dead. Maybe JT was right. Maybe I needed to get laid. Just a meaningless one-night stand. It would peel a few layers of stress off but wouldn’t mess up The Plan.

An alert on the screen in front of me told me there was yet another error with the code I’d written. No, there’d be no girls tonight. At this rate, I’d be sitting in front of this computer for the next week straight.

“All right, I’m outta here. I need more coffee and some sugar before I strangle you. When I get back, we gotta do some serious work on the algorithm, so be ready.”

JT cracked the knuckles on his fingers. “Let’s do this shit.”

I choked out a laugh as I left. JT might have been a social idiot sometimes, but he had mad skills when it came to coding, HTML, Linux, or anything else I threw his way. I headed to the break room where they had one of those coffee pod machines rather than the sludge they tried to pass off as coffee in the main lobby. I took the long way around in order to avoid ten people stopping me with moronic questions that could all most likely be solved by restarting their computers, but apparently I wasn’t stealthy enough.

“Grant! Yoo hoo, Grant!” Connie waved her arms frantically in the air as she prattled toward me, struggling not to be out of breath.

I paused, knowing it was no use to attempt to dodge her, and pinched the bridge of my nose as I closed my eyes, saying a quick prayer that for once she would keep this short. I was never going to finish coding the algorithm at this rate. “Yes, Connie? How can I help you?”

“I’m so glad I caught up with you. I’ve been looking for you all morning.”

“It’s only nine-fifteen, Connie.”

She didn’t respond to my Monday morning snark but pursed her lips disapprovingly. “As I was saying, I need your help. We have a bright new face joining our team this morning, and I need you to set up her computer and passwords and such. She’s over with Temperance right now but should be free this afternoon.”

I bit my cheeks to keep from laughing. If the girl was spending the morning with Temperance, I may not need to set up anything. Four hours listening to stories about Mr. Meow-Meow was enough to drive anyone to quit.

“I’ll set her up later today.”

“Oh, thank you, Grant. Her name is Jillian. Her mom’s such a dear friend of mine from church. I’m so happy I could help her out with a job while she’s on summer break from the Georgia State. Or was it The University of Georgia? Either way, she’s such a sweet girl. Her mom once told me—”

“I gotta get going, Connie. I’ll be sure to set Jenny—”

“Jillian,” she corrected.

“Yes, Jillian, as soon as I finish the project I’m working on now. I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t give her a chance to keep talking. Instead I wove my way through three rows of cubicles, ignoring anyone calling my name, and finally made it to the break room. I spun the carousel, looking through the selections. “Butter Pecan, Pumpkin Spice, Crème Caramel. Why can’t there be one that just says ‘coffee-flavored coffee?’” I grabbed the least girly flavored one and placed it in the machine, tapping my fingers impatiently as it brewed its magic.

“Hey, Grant. How was your weekend?” Tonya slid up next to me. The chick was pushing thirty but still acted like she was sixteen, wearing too-tight jeans and too-low-cut tops, too-heavy makeup that didn’t hide the premature wrinkles she got from smoking since she was probably a teenager. Don’t get me wrong, she was attractive for a woman her age, but I wasn’t interested.

She wasn’t one for subtlety and had been overtly hinting she wanted to go out with me for months. Yes, she had a great body and would be fun for a weekend or two; the drama that would result afterward was not worth the hassle. She’d never settle for one night, and I wanted no part of a relationship.

“Hey, Tonya. It was fine, thanks for asking.” I didn’t bother to ask how hers was. I knew it would lead to a ten-minute conversation about shopping, or nails, or something else I could give two-shits about. “Well, I gotta go. Bye.”

“Wait, Grant.” She reached out and grasped my arm, forcing me to stop or be a complete asshole and yank out of her grip. And while I might have been teetering on the edge, I wasn’t that much of a douche. Yet. “A few of us are having a bonfire out at the beach on Friday. I was hoping you might be able to make this one.”

The words “no, thanks” were on the tip of my tongue, but suddenly the hurt in her eyes forced me to swallow them down. Tonya had asked me to the last four in a row, and I’d turned her down each time. Something about JT’s earlier words and the longing in her eyes chipped away at my resolve.

“Yeah, maybe. I might check it out for a bit.” I’d drink a few beers, have a few laughs, and pretend I was a normal twenty-two-year-old for once. And who knows, maybe I’d even have fun.

CHAPTER FOUR

After sitting with Temperance for the rest of the day and flubbing over a dozen phone calls, I was ready to call it a day. I couldn’t get the hang of it, and when I became flustered, I made mistakes—like hanging up on the vice-president of the company instead of putting him on hold. I was sure they were going to fire me tomorrow, and my mom was going to be pissed. I didn’t think I could stand to see the disappointment in her eyes when Connie called her to tell her I wouldn’t work out.

I didn’t dare drive home and face the barrage of “how was your first day” questions from Mom and Dad, so instead I made a detour and turned my beat-up old Ford Taurus west toward my boyfriend’s house. I needed him to wrap me in a huge hug and let me vent.

I’d met Christian when he was a senior and I was a sophomore in high school. He’d asked me to his senior homecoming. I’d been the only sophomore asked, and I about died that one of the hottest seniors even noticed me. We’d been together since. I fell hard and fast for Christian. He was fun and spontaneous, and when I was with him, he made me feel like I was the only girl who existed. He showered me with affection and attention. I was the envy of every girl in my class. The first couple of years we were together were fun. We were barely able to keep our hands off each other.

Now that we were a little older and I was off to college, our relationship had hit a bit of a slump. We only saw each other once a month or so, and when we did it was only for a few hours. We tried to talk once a day, but with my study schedule and his band practice, it was more like twice a week. And sexting wasn’t making up for the romance anymore. I was really looking forward to us growing closer over the summer and rekindling some of the fire we had once shared.

I pulled into the driveway of Christian’s parents’ small two-bedroom ranch-style home, weaving my car down the path to go to the back basement entrance. Even though he was twenty-two and didn’t go to college—choosing to work at a local surf shop instead—he still lived with his parents in their basement. This never bothered me before, but as he approached his twenty-third birthday, his lack of ambition began to gnaw at me.

He’s saving money and waiting until I graduate
, I reminded myself.
So we can get married and get a place together.

“Babe? Is that you?” Christian called from the garage. He could always hear my clunker coming from half a mile away. I slammed the door, cursing the hunk-of-junk under my breath and making my way toward him. His amplifier hummed softly, and I knew he was practicing the new song he and his band, MindBlown, had been working on for the last month.

They had an eclectic sound, a mixture between modern rock and old-school country. The band consisted of Christian and three of his friends from high school, none of whom I got along with. His band meant everything to him though, so I tried to keep my mouth shut. They mostly played small gigs in town and had changed their name at least three times since their inception. They started as Up in Smoke, then changed to The Dirty Dixie Boys, and for a brief month even called themselves The Fish Dicks. I was very glad that name didn’t stick.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I walked into the garage and saw Christian and two of his band mates hanging out on the beat-up sofas they found at garage sales. His electric guitar was slung around his shoulder, and the pencil behind his ear told me he was trying to write a new song. “I wanted to come over a minute and see you. I had a terrible first day of work. I’m pretty sure they’re going to fire me.”

Christian stuck his guitar pic in the back pocket of his favorite pair of faded jeans that hung low on his hips and had tears at both the knees. No matter how long we’d been together, I could never get enough of just looking at his incredibly sexy body. It should be illegal to look that good. Seriously. He turned his body toward me, but his eyes were still on the sheet music in front of him.