He knows I’ll never ask him for anything that would hurt him, because I love him, Mom told me once. I trust him the same way, because I know he loves me, too.
‘Or the older brother?’ I asked Melody, who lay back beside me.
‘Or the older brother,’ she conceded. ‘Or the dad.’
I could see how Clark Richards fitted into this picture more clearly than I had before. ‘In other words, the man.’
She shrugged, watching me. ‘I guess.’
I frowned and peered at her. My mother was the most giving person I’d ever known, but she wouldn’t have tolerated someone making decisions for her, just because he was her husband. Or boyfriend. ‘That doesn’t seem right to me.’
She smiled. ‘Maybe not. But it doesn’t matter now. I don’t have to be anyone’s princess if I don’t want to. You can ask my mom – I’m definitely a fire-breathing dragon if I don’t get something I want.’
She didn’t even see it. She was her boyfriend’s captive princess. She would never be the dragon or the hero in his story. Those roles were already filled.
LUCAS
As expected, Jacqueline emailed and requested extra help with catching up. She thanked me for translating Dr Heller’s instructions, which could be unintelligible. His grad students could follow him, but he often lost a few of the undergrads. That’s why he had me.
I corrected her assumption that I was an economics major, attached several of the worksheets I’d created for the sessions she couldn’t attend, and ended with asking how her orchestra students had done at regionals. Then I added: btw, your ex is obviously a moron, and pressed send.
What the hell did I mean by doing that? It was beyond out of line to say that about any student – in an email, no less – to another student. Regardless if it was true.
I breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t refer to that impropriety in her reply, though she seemed to believe that helping her was a nuisance for me. I wanted to convince her of the wrongness of that impression. It had been a long time since I felt the sort of breath-stalling anticipation I experienced waiting for her name to appear in my inbox or the sight of her in class. She was the opposite of a nuisance, infiltrating my dreams and stealing into my waking desires.
She told me about her two freshmen students, who’d each cornered her privately to ask which one was her favourite. I laughed out loud at her answer to both of them – You are, of course – and her question to me – Was that wrong??
When I returned the worksheets, pointing out her minor mistakes, I confessed that a bass-playing college girl would have rendered me speechless at fourteen. I closed my eyes and imagined her as she was now, alongside the quiet disaster I’d been at fourteen, needing someone to just see me. I’d have fallen for her immediately, and hard.
And in case you’re wondering – yes, you’re my favourite, I added to the end of that message.
Totally inappropriate flirting, but I didn’t care. I wanted Landon to win her over, so that when she found out who I was, she would forgive me for being part of that night.
This was doomed. But I couldn’t stop now if I tried.
Friday afternoon shifts were often monotonous as hell – it had been ten minutes since we’d even had a customer. There were only two of us working the counter. If Gwen had been there, I would have welcomed hearing anecdotes about her kid’s teething or crawling or colic for the hundredth time just to break the boredom. I was working with Eve, though, who was texting nonstop, setting up weekend plans and leaving me far too much time to ruminate over my Jacqueline Wallace dilemma.
Absorbed in conversation, two girls strolled up to the empty counter. I recognized one of them as the redhead who’d come in with Jacqueline on Monday, then hugged her and sprinted away before they’d reached the front of the line.
From their Greek-lettered T-shirts, I deduced these two were sorority girls. In spite of her attendance at that party and her frat boyfriend, I hadn’t thought that pertained to Jacqueline – but it was entirely possible that she was in a sorority. Not like I hung out with that crowd enough to know who was or wasn’t part of it. Or care.
Until now.
Eve stepped up to the counter while I cleaned the decaf canister, inadvertently eavesdropping and unable to stop once I heard the subject of their conversation.
‘… if Kennedy wasn’t such a dickhole.’
‘Your order?’ Eve intoned, without a hint of affability.
‘He’s not totally horrible – I mean, at least he broke up with her first,’ the dark-haired girl countered before answering Eve. ‘Two venti skinny iced green tea lemonades.’
My coworker punched the register buttons and gave their total. With 2G gauges in her earlobes and more piercings and tattoos than I’d seen on a girl in years, Eve wasn’t a fan of Greeks. I’m not sure if she had a reason. If so, she’d not shared it with me. I figured we were cool because she assumed, as most people did, that my own visible piercing and tats meant I was equally antisocial. I suppose that much was true … I just happened to have a weakness for one particular socially active girl.
I wondered what Eve might do if some hunky frat boy took a liking to her and got too close.
She’d likely stab him with a brow barbell first and ask questions later.
‘I beg to differ,’ the redhead said. ‘He’s a total f**king ass. I saw it often enough, even if she didn’t. He took the high road because in his mind breaking up with her before f**king around excused him from all responsibility for breaking her heart. They were together for nearly three years, Maggie. I can’t even comprehend being with someone that long.’