Bad Influence

by Charleigh Rose

  “When you know, you know.” I shrug, and to my surprise, the girl next to me snorts out a laugh, and I catch a quick flash of her dimples before she schools her features.

  “What’s her name?” Sierra asks, clearly losing patience.

  Good question. I look over to my girlfriend for help, but she only stares back with an innocent, expecting expression, batting her eyelashes, waiting to see how I’ll answer that one. I send her a look in return that says I’m so glad this amuses you.

  “Don’t be rude, Sierra. If you want to know her name, ask her.”

  Sierra huffs, crossing her arms as she focuses her attention on the girl next to me. “Do you have a name?” she speaks slowly, enunciating each word as if she’s talking to a toddler or someone who doesn’t speak English. “Or did you guys not get that far? Usually the exchanging names part comes after the sex with this one.”

  “It’s Allison,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “And he knows my name. Trust me.” She leans forward on her elbows for dramatic effect—her fingers toying with the tip of her straw—and lowers her voice. “He was yelling it. All. Night. Long.”

  Holy fuck, I just got an instant semi.

  Sierra’s nostrils flare and her gaze snaps back to me, but I’m still stuck staring at the girl next to me, suddenly seeing her in a whole new light, thanks to that comment. “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, but you wanna know what I do know?”

  “Not really, but I feel like you’re about to tell us anyway,” I say, sounding bored as I twirl a lock of Allison’s hair between my fingers.

  “Hooking up with my sister was a clear message, Jesse. You wanted to hurt me.”

  Christ. This chick is delusional.

  “And you know what that tells me?” she asks knowingly.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “It tells me that deep down, you still care. You still want me. So you can stop pretending with White Trash Barbie now.”

  I’m speechless. Literally fucking speechless because she’s so far off base that I have no words. What kind of fucked-up girl logic is that? I didn’t even know she had a sister.

  “Or maybe,” Allison chimes in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “just maybe it means that he doesn’t care about you enough to consider your feelings on the matter.”

  Sierra’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t have a rebuttal to that.

  “Or maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about,” she tacks on when no one else speaks. Sierra spins on her heels without a word, and then she’s gone.

  “You know you just made her want you more, right?” Allison asks, putting some space between us. At my confused expression, she laughs. “Girls always want what they can’t have. Flaunting me in front of her was practically a challenge in her eyes.”

  “She knows better.”

  “Not if she thinks I’m actually your girlfriend. Now she thinks she has a chance to fill that role.”

  Good thing I’m not sticking around to find out.

  “Was it true? What she said about her sister?” she asks.

  “Technically speaking?”

  Allison’s lip quirks up at the corner, but before she gets a chance to answer, a gruff voice shouts out her name, causing her head to whip around to see where it came from. Her eyes light up when she sees some guy with a lip ring in black jeans, black boots, and a black zip-up. It doesn’t escape me that he’s the complete opposite of me in my hoodie with my Lobos lacrosse logo on the front, gray sweats, and backwards hat.

  “Excuse me,” she says impatiently, gesturing for me to let her out of the booth, all but forgetting about me.

  “Who’s that?” I ask, standing.

  “My boyfriend,” she deadpans, and I can’t tell if she’s fucking with me, given the circumstances, or if he really is her boyfriend. I don’t have to wonder long, because she runs to him and he wraps his arms around her tiny form, lifting her off her feet. Now the lack of shivers makes sense. She’s into the broody, emo type. Not college lacrosse players who just rolled out of bed and still reek of liquor.

  * * *

  “FUCK, IT’S BEEN TOO LONG.” Dylan chews on his lip ring, peering down at me. I press my nose into his hoodie as I hug him, inhaling his familiar scent, something I’ve never been able to pin down, but belongs to him and only him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, looking up at him, trying to read his reaction.

  I haven’t so much as returned a text, let alone stepped foot in this town since the funeral. Also known as the night we lost our goddamn minds. I was so lost with grief that I tried to make myself feel something—anything—other than the overwhelming sadness threatening to swallow me whole, and when Dylan leaned in to kiss me, I let him. It shouldn’t have happened. We don’t even like each other in that way. But if he’s not going to acknowledge the elephant in the room, I’m happy to pretend like it never happened.

  I met Dylan a couple of years ago, after I started spending summers with my dad in River’s Edge. I was sure he hated me the entire first year I knew him. Slowly, his icy demeanor started to melt, and after he stole my journal and discovered my hormone-induced, mediocre at best lyrics, we became friends. It made sense. The aspiring rock star and the daughter of a musician.

  “I should kick your ass for staying away that long,” he informs me, taking a seat at our table. The same table we always sat at with my dad and the rest of Dylan’s band. Blackbear was our “spot”.

  “I know. I just…couldn’t.” I don’t elaborate, but Dylan nods, knowing exactly what I mean. “But,” I say, straightening my shoulders and perking up my voice, “you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  He looks at me with a questioning expression.

  “I’m staying.”

  “For good?” he asks.

  I pull my worn composition book out of my bag, setting it on the table while I rummage for the complimentary pennant I got at orientation. “You’re looking at the newest Wildcat,” I say, waving the felt red and white flag with the Wildcats logo.

  “No shit?” He chuckles, a deep sound that I swear vibrates the tabletop. I was supposed to start at Kerrigan University in the fall, but I never showed. Luckily, once I explained that I had a death in the family, they gave me the okay to start during the spring semester. Never mind the fact that the accident was months earlier. The only downside? They filled my spot at the dorms. Thank God for Halston.

  “Yep. I’m rooming with Halston at Manzanita Hall.” Illegally. But that’s neither here nor there.

  Halston is my only other friend in the world. My dad used to teach guitar at the high school, and on the seldom occasion that I’d visit during the school year, I’d go with him, disappearing underneath the bleachers to listen to music and write in my journal. Imagine my surprise when a tall brunette in designer shoes showed up, asking if she could hide out with me between classes. I reluctantly obliged, and this girl who looked like she had just walked off the set of a CW show would light up a cigarette and give me all the latest gossip on River’s Edge. At first, I ignored her presence. But Halston is nothing if not persistent.

  “If you ever need a place to crash…” he trails off.

  “Thanks, but I’m good.” Dylan rents a house with his bandmates where every surface is covered with beer bottles and flakes of weed. Calling it a bachelor pad would be the understatement of the century.

  He shrugs. “Suit yourself. Got anything for me?” he asks, brown eyes eying my journal expectantly. It’s creased in the middle from rolling it up and carrying it everywhere I go.

  Dylan reaches for the notebook, but I slap his hand away.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jesse walk past our table. As if he senses my stare, he turns his head to look at me and tosses a wink in my direction before turning back around. I roll my eyes. I don’t know why I told him Dylan was my boyfriend. I guess I just wanted him to know that I wasn’t lusting after him like the rest of the females in a two-hundred-mile radius.


  That’s not entirely true, though, is it? He’s a fine specimen, I won’t deny that. But he’s exactly the type of guy I should avoid.

  “Who’s that?” Dylan asks, looking him up and down, seemingly unimpressed.

  “That is Jesse Shepherd.” I recognized him right away. He looks older than I remember. Taller and more muscular, with cheekbones sharper than razorblades. I used to see him around town before he went away for college. We’ve even spoken before, but clearly, I didn’t make much of an impression on him.

  There was a brief moment that I thought he might be different from the rest of the jocks he hung around. Something about him didn’t seem to fit. He acted the part. He definitely looked the part with his lacrosse jacket over broad shoulders and a tapered waist. Cocky smile firmly in place. But he had an edge to him. His eyes held a hardness that made me wonder if there was more lurking beneath that pretty exterior. But then he opened his mouth, ripping that theory to shreds.

  “Friend of yours?” Dylan asks, watching him with an unreadable expression.

  “God, no,” I say, peeling my gaze from him. “So, what’s new with you?”

  “The Attic shut down a few months back, so we’ve been trying to find another place to play.”

  “No way.” Dylan and his band played there every single week. The Attic was their home. It was the place locals and tourists alike went to drink and listen to live music. “How the hell did that happen?” That place was always packed.

  “Not sure. We showed up to play one night and the parking lot was empty. All the lights were off and the doors were locked.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  “We’ll find something.”

  I nod, knowing they will. Dylan is the real deal.

  “For now, it’s pizza joints and random events.” He leans back in his chair, bringing his hands behind his head, taking a deep breath. “What’s next in the life of Albert?” Albert. I roll my eyes at the nickname. He used to call me Al for short, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, it somehow morphed into Albert. Never mind the fact that it has the same number of syllables as Allie.

  I look over to the help wanted sign hanging on the wall, biting on my lower lip. “A job, for starters.”

  * * *

  “WE DON’T HAVE TO STAY long if you’re not into it,” Halston promises as she leads us through a crowded living room. It smells like sweat, Victoria’s Secret body spray, and desperation in here.

  “I’m fine.” College parties aren’t my scene, but Halston loves this shit, and since she’s one of the two real friends I have in River’s Edge, I’ll try my best to conceal my resting bitch face and enjoy it.

  “Maybe tonight you’ll find the perfect candidate.” She wiggles her brows. She’s made it her mission in life to get me laid. At eighteen years old, I’m the only virgin I know. I’m not saving myself for the perfect guy, but one I could actually stand to be around would be nice.

  I roll my eyes. “Doubtful. If I were going to hook up, it wouldn’t be with anyone who’d hang out here.”

  “That’s exactly why this is the perfect place to find a one-night stand to practice on,” she argues. “You won’t fall for any of these boys.”

  Well, there is that.

  Reaching back for my hand, Halston pulls me through the room where the main party seems to be taking place. I catch myself bobbing my head to some catchy pop song—“Youngblood,” I think—and roll my eyes at myself. Dad would never let me live this down if he were here. While I get my impeccable taste in music from him, I’ve also been known to enjoy a top forty song or two. So sue me.

  I shake off the sadness that tries to creep in at the thought of my dad. He wouldn’t want that. He was always after me to get some friends my age. He wanted me to have the college experience, which brings me to another reason I’m here, going against my loner tendencies.

  “So. Many. Boys!” Halston gives an excited squeal and I laugh, shaking my head. If boy crazy were in the dictionary, a picture of Halston would sit next to the definition. She’s the complete opposite of me, with her lean body and legs for days. Dark hair curled to perfection, a creamy complexion with a perfectly-placed beauty mark on her cheek. She could have any guy in here, and she knows it.

  We scan the crowd of drunken frat boys until she sets her sights on a guy with too-tight khakis and no shirt standing next to the keg with a circle of admiring females around him.

  “I’m parched,” she states with a gleam in her eyes, and then she’s tugging at my wrist once again.

  “For the boy or the beer?” I yell over the noise.

  “Both. Definitely both.”

  We make our way to the keg through the sea of people, and with all the confidence in the world, Halston casually cuts through the circle of girls surrounding her newest victim.

  “Hey,” she says simply.

  Frat Boy looks her up and down, obviously liking what he sees before he tips his chin at her. “Hey back. Thirsty?”

  She nods, and he fills a cup for her, all but ignoring the other girls. I laugh softly. It’s that easy for her. I hang back while the girls pout, but their despair doesn’t last for long because suddenly, the energy in the room shifts, and their gazes are fixed on someone else. I look over my shoulder to see none other than Jesse Shepherd walking through the door. A couple of guys high-five him, and girls throw themselves in his path for a hug.

  “Shep!” the guy with Halston calls out. Jesse gives him the bro nod, acknowledging him, and makes his way toward us. I quickly spin back around, hoping he doesn’t notice me standing here.

  “What’s up, Sully?” Jesse asks.

  Halston wrinkles her nose. “Sully?”

  “Last name’s Sullivan,” he informs her. “But you can call me Daddy.” He tosses a wink at her.

  I roll my eyes. That’s embarrassing.

  I take a step backwards, trying to slip away without being seen, and accidentally back up into the girl behind me.

  “Shit, sorry—” I start, but when I see who it is, the apology dies on my lips.

  “Watch it,” Sierra snaps, shooting me a dirty look right before she tips her beer to slosh all over my Doc Martens. She doesn’t deem me worthy of any further attention, her focus quickly shifting back toward Jesse…who is now looking right at me, thanks to my clumsiness. Amusement gleams in his eyes, and I know he’s about to put on a show.

  “That’s no way to talk to my girlfriend,” he admonishes, curling an arm around my hip, bringing my side flush with his. Halston’s eyes widen comically, shooting silent accusations my way. I didn’t tell her about what happened at Blackbear.

  “I’m going back to the dorm to change shoes,” I tell Halston, lifting a foot to shake off the excess beer that’s now starting to seep into my socks.

  “Do you want me to come?” she asks, torn between wanting details and staying to jump on her chance with Sullivan.

  “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

  She shakes her head, setting her cup down on the table. “It’s late. I’m not letting you walk back to Manzanita alone.”

  “I’ll walk her,” Jesse says, and I whip my head around, shooting him a glare.

  Halston smiles triumphantly. “Deal.”

  “What…” I start, confused, but Jesse takes my hand, locking his fingers with mine. Like we’re a real couple. All eyes are on us, the odd pair, as we make our way toward the door. Me with my black, ripped skinny jeans, my dad’s jean jacket tied around my waist, and Doc Martens. Him with his backwards hat, fitted jeans, and a maroon shirt with his school’s name emblazoned across the front of his wide chest.

  Once we’re outside, I drop his hand. “Thanks…for that,” I say, heading toward the girls’ dorms.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he says, falling into step next to me. “Trying to ditch your boyfriend already?”

  I stop short, cocking my head to the side as I study him, trying to figure out his angle. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking y
ou to your dorm,” he drawls out slowly, like the answer should be obvious.

  “Why?”

  “It’s late. Manzanita is across campus.” He ticks off the reasons.

  “I’m not going to fuck you.” I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

  Jesse’s lips tug upward into a grin and he chuckles as he looks me up and down. Jesus, he’s hot.“Okay.”

  “Okay?” I ask, lifting a brow.

  “Okay,” he repeats, sweeping an arm in front of him. “Lead the way.”

  I eye him skeptically for a beat before turning back toward Halston’s dorm. Jesse hooks an arm around my shoulder, smirking down at me when I shoot him a glare, even though my stomach flips at his nearness.

  “So, where’s your real boyfriend?”

  It takes me a minute to realize who he’s referring to. “Who, Dylan? We’re just friends.”

  “Friends who see each other naked?” he asks casually, as if asking about the weather.

  “And that’s any of your business, how?”

  “I’m just making conversation,” he says innocently.

  “I already told you I’m not having sex with you,” I remind him.

  “You think about having sex with me often? You sure bring it up a lot.”

  My cheeks heat and I stare ahead. Jesse’s not exactly hard up for female attention, but if he’s not trying to hook up, then what is he doing?

  Once at the entrance of Manzanita Hall, I pull away, leaning my back against the brick building, one hand on the door handle. “Thanks for walking me.”

  Jess snorts out a laugh. “You’re not going back to the party, are you?”

  “Probably not,” I admit. “Halston won’t miss me. Trust me.”

  Jesse nods, giving me one last once-over before turning to leave, but then I hear a rustling in the bushes that has my hand jerking out to snatch his wrist of its own volition. Jesse’s eyes are amused, giving a pointed look at where my fingers clutch his arm.