Part 5 (2/2)

He nodded. ”I see. And what's this little show about?”

”It's not a show,” I said defensively. ”I felt bad about this morning. I thought it would be a nice gesture is all.”

”Not that I don't appreciate the gesture,” he paused and tilted his head in my direction, ”or the uniform. I just didn't know you were such an exhibitionist.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity. ”I'm hardly exhibiting anything. Just working on my tan and was.h.i.+ng a car. No. Big. Deal.”

I didn't want to tell him about the GLL. He'd probably think it was dumb. Plus, I didn't want him to know I'd gotten so boring since my wedding day that I now needed to follow a list just to have a semblance of a personality. Maybe I wanted him to think that skinny-dipping in the middle of the day and was.h.i.+ng cars in a bikini was just part of my regular routine.

”I'm sorry about earlier,” he said. ”I'm not really into mornings.”

”It's fine. I'm sorry I caused you trouble in the first place.”

He shrugged. ”I guess if you're gonna cause trouble you should do it naked, right?”

I hoped he thought my cheeks were pink from the sun.

Jake told me he'd be editing photos on his computer for the afternoon and to take the Jeep if I needed it. I decided to take him up on the offer because there was no way I wanted to hang around there and experience any more embarra.s.sing and awkward run-ins with him. Two in one day was more than enough.

After spending a few minutes on Craigslist and Monster, I put on my new interview outfit from H&M and headed out to look for a job. My first stop was an Italian ”ristorante” that had posted an ad on Craigslist looking for servers with immediate availability. The restaurant, er, ristorante, didn't open until four so I rang the doorbell per the instructions in the ad.

NOOOOO! No, no, no, no, no! Caroline Ganier answered the door. Caroline Ganier, AKA the b.i.t.c.h who stole my boyfriend during our senior year of high school.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

His name was Riley. He was the star goaltender for our champion hockey team. You may remember the story about Winnie-the-Pooh, the guy who took my virginity. That was Riley. He was a master in the net, but a bit of a bore in the bedroom. Not that I minded. I was a high school student, not a p.o.r.n star. I didn't have anyone to compare him to anyway.

I liked having a hometown hero as a boyfriend. I felt that his popularity raised my worth as a person. During my freshman year, I just kind of blended in. I didn't play any sports. I wasn't in any clubs or the band. I didn't shop at Abercrombie & Fitch. And even though I was really smart, I was too quiet to speak up in cla.s.s, so no one knew it. No one really knew I existed.

After working on a Social Studies project together at the beginning of our soph.o.m.ore year, Riley took an interest in me. Suddenly, everyone knew my name. People said hi to me in the halls. I went from being one of the last girls picked when we divided into teams in gym cla.s.s to being one of the first, even though I had the athletic ability of a tree slug. I was invited to every party, went to every game, and there was always a seat saved for me at the hockey team's table in the cafeteria a seat many other girls were dying to sit in, including the s.k.a.n.k Queen, Caroline Ganier.

Go ahead and call me superficial if you haven't done so already, but I liked having friends. I liked being social. I liked having fun on the weekends instead of reading Sweet Valley High in my bedroom. When you're in high school, that kind of stuff matters.

We were the royal couple for the next two years. I was in the bleachers cheering him on at every game, including the away games. We went to every dance together and were both on Homecoming court during our junior and senior years. We were totally on our way to the coveted ”Cutest Couple” spot in the yearbook.

It was the end of January, the morning of his 18th birthday, and I woke up bright and early and headed over to Riley's house with eighteen helium balloons in the trunk of my POS Buick.

I made a list of seventeen things I loved about him and then cut each item on the list into a little strip of paper about the size of the fortune in a fortune cookie. I put one strip of paper in each of the first seventeen balloons. In the last balloon, the big one that said Happy Birthday, I put two tickets to the Incubus concert the following weekend. I filled the balloons using the mini helium tank I'd bought at the party store. Once they were filled with helium I'd tied a string and one of his favorite candy bars to each balloon to weigh it down. It was a lot of work, but I loved every minute of it because it made me feel good to do nice things for people.

My intention was to get into his bedroom before he woke up and set the balloons around his bed so that when he woke up he'd be surrounded by balloons. I'd already made arrangements with his mother to let me into his room that morning.

It was 7:30am when I arrived. I knew n.o.body who'd been hitting the beer bong with the guys the night before would be up that early. I unloaded the balloons from the car carefully as not to get the strings tangled together. I lightly knocked on the front door. His mom answered right away since she knew I was coming.

I quietly walked up the carpeted staircase to his room, gently turned the k.n.o.b and pushed the door open softly.

Then I screamed.

s.k.a.n.k Queen herself was in MY boyfriend's bed, tangled up in his sheets with mascara all over her s.l.u.tty, ugly face and a major case of bed head in her ratty-a.s.s, over-processed, yellow hair. They both sat up when they heard me screaming, and she didn't even attempt to cover herself up. She just sat there in his bed, b.o.o.bs hanging out in the open, and smirked at me. Not just at me, but also at both of his parents, who had come running upstairs when they heard the commotion and now stood there horrified.

”HAPPY f.u.c.kING BIRTHDAY!” I yelled as I dropped the balloons before running down the stairs and out the door.

Not only was she a ho-bag, but she had a big mouth as well. My phone was flooded with phone calls almost immediately. People were willing to get out of bed early to hear that kind of gossip. I ignored the calls. It was too embarra.s.sing. I couldn't face anyone from school, but there was no way I was going to sit home and sulk while everyone I knew was celebrating that b.a.s.t.a.r.d's birthday at his party later. So I packed an overnight bag and headed to Mount Pleasant.

Mount Pleasant is a city a few hours from Ann Arbor and home of Central Michigan University, where both Adam and Jake were soph.o.m.ores. Adam decided on Central because they offered him a full scholars.h.i.+p to play for the basketball team. He wasn't really into the sport anymore, but he was good at it and figured it was the best and cheapest way to get his Bachelor's degree so he could move on to med school.

Jake had decided on Central simply because he didn't have the grades, the ambitions or the money to go to a more scholastic school, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it. Jake was all about the party scene and made no attempt to hide it. He joined a fraternity right away and had been telling me how great their parties were. When he was home on winter break he told me to come hang out and party with him whenever I wanted and I thought a college party was a good way to celebrate my newfound freedom. A one-night-stand would be the best revenge I could get. My goal was to meet a guy who would f.u.c.k me senseless and make me forget all about Winnie-the-Pooh and his stupid, s.k.a.n.ky honey pot.

I didn't even think to call first. I just got in my mom's car and drove off. When I arrived at the campus a few hours later I used my cell phone, my very first cell phone that I had gotten for Christmas a month before, and called my brother's phone for directions to his apartment.

”s.h.i.+t,” he said when he answered, ”I've got a game in Buffalo tonight. I won't be back on campus until tomorrow.”

I gulped in embarra.s.sment as my heart raced with anxiety. Had I driven all this way just to turn around and drive right back?

”Do you know the number to Jake's room?” Adam asked.

Jake didn't have a cell phone yet. It took a few phone calls back and forth with Adam and a few calls to Jake's frat brothers, but I was finally able to reach him. Once I told him where I was he said he'd be there to get me in a minute, no questions asked.

As I sat in my car trying to stay warm, I saw him walking towards the visitor's parking lot. He wore a burgundy baseball cap with a gold letter ”C” on it, a navy blue zip-up hoodie with some white Greek letters sewn across the front and loose fitting jeans. He looked like a typical college frat guy. To a high school senior whose boyfriend was just caught f.u.c.king the town tramp, there wasn't a whole lot more enticing than a typical college frat guy. My heart raced again, but it wasn't embarra.s.sment or anxiety this time. I turned the heat off and fanned my face to stop the blush I felt creeping onto my cheeks. When did Jake get so hot? And why didn't anyone tell me?

I stepped out of the car when he approached.

”Where's your coat?” he asked.

I shrugged and rubbed my hands up the arms of my wool sweater to keep warm. ”I left in a hurry,” I explained.

He unzipped his hoodie. ”Get in here,” he said as he held his jacket open for me.

I put my arms inside the hoodie and wrapped them around his waist. He pulled the jacket around the back of me and held tight. I didn't mean to lose it, but with that one move, he made me feel safe and protected and loved, and I can't explain why, but it made me cry.

He rested his chin on the top of my head and held me tighter. ”What did he do to you, Little Girl?” he asked.

I shook my head inside his jacket. If I talked about it, I would cry even harder.

He rubbed his hands up and down my back on the outside of his hoodie, and I let him hold me for a minute (and enjoyed every second immensely, by the way) before I let go of him.

He pulled off his coat. ”Here, take this,” he said. ”I'll get you one for yourself when we get to the house, but wear mine for now.”

All he had on underneath was a long sleeve white t-s.h.i.+rt that said Central Michigan Basketball on the front. Aww, he supported his friend. And took care of his friend's little sister, too.

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