Part 6 (2/2)

It's funny how certain memories stay with a person. I didn't remember a whole lot about my life as an eight-year-old, and Jake and I never spoke of it, but I didn't think I'd ever forget that Father's Day. It was the first time I'd ever felt real love for someone that wasn't related to me.

Even at his frat house ten years later I still had a soft spot for Jake, and it was hard to stay mad at him, especially when he was willing to make a bed for me at almost four in the morning. I sat at his desk and watched him pull the old DNA-covered sheets off his bed and put the clean ones on. When he finished, I yawned, stood up and stretched my arms over my head.

And that was when he walked over and kissed me. It was so unexpected and happened so fast. One second he was at his bed, and the next second he had crossed the room and his lips were on mine. It's hard to make a move like that and get it just right. Usually the guy ends up missing the target or smas.h.i.+ng teeth to teeth. Or the girl ends up choking on bubblegum and needs life-saving maneuvers. This, though, was just right. It was the perfect amount of s.e.xy mixed with the perfect amount of sweet. Since my arms had already been over my head at the time, he put his hands on them and gently pushed them against the wall behind us. I don't know if it was all the crying I'd done earlier, or the fact that I'd been awake for almost a whole day, or the two plastic cups of beer I'd stolen from the keg when no one was looking, but I suddenly felt weak and dizzy. It was like I was falling. When he ran his tongue along my bottom lip I felt like I was falling off a cliff and never hitting the bottom. In two years Riley had never, ever made me feel that way.

But then Jake pulled away. and it felt like a crash landing. He put his hands to his head and grabbed onto a few clumps of his hair like he was frustrated. ”s.h.i.+t, Rox,” he said. ”I'm sorry. You're just so cute when you try to look mad.”

I was still so dizzy from his kiss that I couldn't figure out how to form words. I just stared at him with what was probably a deer-in-the-headlights look.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his hands now clasped behind his head. ”I'm gonna sleep downstairs. Make sure you lock the door behind me, okay?”

He walked out the door. I was pretty disappointed he didn't stay, but when I remembered the pain I'd felt earlier when I imagined him betraying me and breaking my heart, I knew he did the right thing by leaving. Because if he had kept kissing me like that, there was no way I could have said no to him.

The next morning Mom called and woke me up bright and early. There was a winter storm on the way and she wanted me to leave early so I'd be home safe and sound before it started snowing. I was headed out the front door of the frat house when Jake called to me from the couch in the living room.

”Roxie?”

I turned around. ”Yeah?”

He sat up and yawned. His blanket fell down and exposed his tattooed chest. I'd never been a huge fan of tattoos before, but he really made them look good. Think Justin Timberlake in Alphadog, but with darker hair. Smokin'!

”Are you leaving?” he asked.

”No,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. ”I'm going outside to build a snowman.” I smiled to let him know I was only teasing.

He stretched his arms and yawned again. ”Let me buy you a coffee first. You can't get on the road without caffeine.”

I could have gotten my own coffee, but I didn't argue. We walked to a coffee shop on campus. It was kind of weird. The silence between us seemed to magnify the other sounds around us, like the sounds of our feet crunching into the snow.

When we got into the cafe he ordered two coffees and we sat down in a booth. He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot and he had his hood pulled up on his head because his hair was a disaster but he still looked d.a.m.n good to me. Seriously, when did he get this hot, and how did I not notice?

”So what do we have to do to make this not weird?” he asked.

I smiled at him. I love a guy who gets right to the point and doesn't bulls.h.i.+t. ”In the movies we'd probably go outside and get into a s...o...b..ll fight to cut the tension. There would be a montage of scenes of us falling into the snow and laughing together ...” I paused as I thought about it. ”But it's too cold for that s.h.i.+t.”

He grinned.

”It's not weird,” I told him with a shrug. ”s.h.i.+t happens. People get drunk and make out sometimes. It's fine.”

”I didn't have a single drink last night.”

”Oh,” I paused, surprised. ”That explains a lot.”

”Explains what?”

”Why you were so annoying. A few drinks would have done you some good.”

”Yeah, probably.”

”But really, it's not weird. I'm glad you kissed me.”

”You are?”

”Yeah. I was hoping to get laid at the Get Leid party. I thought it would make me feel better about Riley. So I'm glad I got at least a kiss. I kind of think you owe me a lot more than that for t.w.a.t-blocking me all night.”

He actually choked on his coffee. ”I can't believe you just said t.w.a.t-blocking.”

We both giggled.

”I guess I'll have to take a rain check,” I told him with a wicked grin.

I could tell he thought I was kidding, but I wasn't sure I was. A relations.h.i.+p was out of the question ... but maybe, just maybe, we could pull off a one-night-stand someday. A girl could dream.

CHAPTER NINE.

Caroline Ganier stood in front of me in her stupid, ugly cardigan sweater with a nametag that said ”s.k.a.n.k Queen, Ristorante Manager.” Okay, it didn't really say that. The s.k.a.n.k Queen part anyway. And if they were going to use the Italian word for restaurant, why didn't they also use the Italian word for manager? I hated the place immediately.

There was no way I could tell her I was there to apply for a job. That would be a ten on the mortification scale. Standing there and s.h.i.+tting my pants in front of her would have been less embarra.s.sing than asking her for a job. Yet, there I was ringing the doorbell before hours wearing a nice pantsuit and holding a manila folder on the very day a wanted ad was listed on Craigslist. What the h.e.l.l else would I be there for?

”Roxie Humsucker,” she said (Yes, that's my maiden name. Can you see why I was in such a hurry to change it?). With a smirk on her face not unlike the one I saw when I caught her in my boyfriend's bed more than ten years ago, she leaned on the doorframe, crossed her arms and raised her chin up. She looked seriously entertained, and I wanted so badly to punch her in her stupid, ugly face!

I am known for my quick-thinking skills. But it's a total fake-out. The reason people think I'm a quick thinker is because I prepare so extensively for every situation I can think of. I make it seem like I'm a quick-thinker, but really, a lot of thought goes into nearly everything I do. But this, this I was not expecting in any part of my imagination. I have to say, though, that for being put on the spot like that, I was impressed with the way I handled the situation.

”Hey there...you,” I said, purposely not using her name so she would think I forgot it even though it was on her nametag. ”I'm so glad someone's here. I just ran over on my lunch break because I heard you guys do catering for large groups.”

She gave a sly grin like she didn't buy the story. ”Yes, we do catering. You didn't have to come in person though. We have the menu and prices on the website. You can order it online, too.”

”Yes,” I said, thinking fast, ”but this is kind of last minute so I wanted to do it in person. I'm in a jam and I need it this Thursday. Will that be possible?”

”Of course. For how many people?”

”Thirty,” I said quickly.

d.a.m.nit! Why didn't I say twenty?

Almost $400 later, as I was walking back to Jake's Jeep, the only positive thing I could think of was that this would make a really funny story someday. Oh, and that she's not aging well.

I got back into the Jeep and blasted the A/C. That incident was a serious blow to my self-worth, not to mention my dwindling bank account. My overall outlook on life took a major nose dive. I couldn't continue to job search after suffering such a blow. Job applicants needed to be oozing with confidence, not pouting over a bad memory and a mean girl.

I was starting to think moving back here had been a bad idea. I'd only been home two days and already these people and events from my past were trying to bring me down. What happened to the last ten years I'd spent maturing into a cla.s.sy and confident woman? All it took was an old rival with bad hair and suddenly it was like I was back in high school again with a head filled with silly, childish insults. I mean, yes, her hair could use some serious professional help and that turquoise eye shadow didn't work with her skin tone whatsoever, but that's no reason for me to call her a stupid, ugly face. It was her personality that made her ugly, and if I stooped down to her level, I would be just as bad.

In one of the cla.s.ses I took in college, we discussed the problems criminals faced once they were released from prison after an extended period of time behind bars. I don't remember the exact wording of this theory, but it was something about how their minds stopped maturing when they entered prison. If they went in at twenty and were released at forty, their minds were still mentally age twenty. They ended up socially inept and were unable to develop mature relations.h.i.+ps with people their own age. This usually resulted in them returning to their lives of crime. Or looking like total pervs trying to date women twenty years younger.

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