by S. E. Rose
I sigh. “I know. I was…it’s just hard. I’ve been on my own now for a few years and I’m used to taking care of myself. I mean, I get why he was concerned and all. And I would have called the police and dealt with it myself, but I didn’t think it was necessary to drag me out of the house.”
“Probably not. I’m glad you are safe though. Did they figure out who did it?”
“Nope. I still think it was a pledge class like last year. Some of my sisters think it was too but some others don’t. So, who knows?”
“Well, stay safe. And feel free to call me whenever.”
“Kylie?”
“Yes?”
“I have one more question. I need…some fashion advice,” I squeak.
Kylie squeals. “Now you are speaking my language.”
“I need a great work outfit for our upcoming presentation and I also want something…uh, for a date.” The words leave my mouth before my brain catches up with them. I frown because when have I ever cared about what I wear? Is it a bad thing? I shake my head because I’m overthinking this, as usual.
“I can do that. Can you meet me at the mall tomorrow at one?”
“Yep.”
“Cool. See you then.”
“Thanks, Kylie,” I say.
“Sure. Anytime.”
We hang up, and I grin. It’s time for me to become the confident woman I know I am. And also, time for me to woman up and win the job and the man of my dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clark
I stare at my phone again. I sent Megan a text three hours ago and I’ve heard nothing. I groan and grab two more ibuprofen. I should not have downed so many beers last night. The smell of coffee has me grinning. The fancy coffee maker was our one splurge for the apartment last year.
I roll over and chug the glass of water sitting on my bedside table.
I need to study but I want to talk with Megan first, maybe even ask her to come to the library roof with me.
Evan is leaning against our counter with a cup of coffee when I walk into the kitchen. I shake my head at the words on his mug, “There’s only one thing bigger than my personality.”
He looks over at me. “Morning. Did you hear about the craziness at the SOR house last night?”
I nod. “I was there,” I mutter as I grab a mug and start pouring the liquid nectar of life into it.
“Shit. Really? Stella texted me but said she was too busy cleaning up to talk. I’m going to head over there in a little bit.”
I grunt as I drink.
“What’s wrong with you?”
I’m about to answer when an equally disheveled Grif walks in the room.
“Damn, what did I miss last night? Did you guys go to a rave and not invite me ’cause that would have been way more epic than the lame party I went to?”
Grif doesn’t answer. I wordlessly hand him a mug and he pours the remainder of the pot of coffee into it.
After taking three long drinks, he turns to Evan. “You missed blowing up shit. We seriously schooled some children last night.”
Evan laughs. “Fuck, you guys had a game night? Damn it. I should have come home earlier.”
“Bros before hoes,” Grif mutters.
“OK, next weekend, we should totally have a stay-in night,” Evan suggests.
“Can’t. I gotta go work on the house some more,” I say.
“This sucks. We can’t let this semester end without doing something epic,” Evan scoffs.
I can’t disagree with the guy. Going out without one last hurrah seems uneventful and out of character for us.
“Maybe we can have a long weekend at the beach before the end of the semester,” I state.
“Girls or no girls?” Evan asks.
I look over at Grif. He shrugs. “I could find a lady friend.”
I debate it. “Have we decided on the summer trip yet?”
Every summer since freshman year, we take a road trip somewhere. We’ve been planning this one for three years now. We are between driving to San Diego or going camping near Devil’s Tower.
“I thought we were going camping?” Grif states.
“Yeah, definitely camping,” Evan agrees.
“Well, as long as we get a two-week guys’ trip, then I’m good with ladies at the beach,” I say.
Grif and Evan nod their agreement.
I set down my mug. “I better go kiss and make up with mine, then.”
They both look at me.
“Gonna share with the class?” Grif asks.
“We may have gotten in a ‘tiff’ over her being a stubborn pain in my ass.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” Evan says.
“Tell me about it. I let it slip in the sibling chat and got fucking schooled by my sisters. You guys do not want to be on the receiving end of the Moore women’s wrath.”
Evan chuckles. “Your sisters scare me, dude. Seriously, they could kick any of our asses.”
I nod. “They have kicked my ass, every time I misbehaved as a kid. Kylie would sit on my chest and Di and Lanie would tickle torture me. They are brutal. They also liked to pick the bathroom lock and pour buckets of cold water on my head while I was in the shower.”
“Damn, that’s fucked up,” Grif agrees.
“No shit. They were way worse than Kent ever was.”
“No wonder you have no fear,” Evan points out as he sets his mug in the sink.
My phone pings and I look down, hoping to see a response from Megan. But instead, I see a FaceTime from my mom.
“Is that Momma Moore?” Grif asks.
I roll my eyes and accept the call.
“Hey, sweetie!” she says way too loudly.
“Hi, Mom. How are you guys? Where are you at?” I ask in rapid-fire.
“We are at Zion and it is beautiful! Last night we had three deer just walk right up to the cabin. It was so amazing. How are you? How are school and the internship?”
“Good. Everything is good. I think we might go to the beach in a few weeks.”
“Oh? That’ll be fun. Are Grif and Evan there?”
I’m suddenly smooshed as my roommates crowd on either side of me and start talking to my mom.
I stand there and semi-patiently wait for them to finish.
“Oh, Clarkie, I’m making a…what’s it called, dear?” she says, turning and looking to her left.
“An Instagram account,” Dad says.
“Oh, right. I made us one of those so we can post pictures. Kylie and Nana suggested it. Uh…hold on…how do I get back to it so I can send it to Clark?”
“You just click out of FaceTime,” I hear Nana Betty say. I grin.
“But, then the video won’t work.”
“Just swipe right,” Gran Tilly adds.
“No, no, that’s Tinder,” Nana says.
“What’s that?” my mom asks.
“No, it’s Grinder. Kent’s friend Nate told me about it,” Gran states.
I press my lips together but Evan and Grif lose it.
“Grinder is the dating app for…never mind,” I say, deciding it’s not worth it to explain any of this to them.
“We should have made a TikTok account. Or what’s that other one…Snapchat. We can snap you, Clark,” Nana says.
“OK, you all need to lay off becoming social media influencers. Mom, just tell me what your profile name is, and I’ll add you when we get off the phone.”
“What’s a profile name?” Mom asks.
I slap my forehead. “What is your IG account name?”
“IG? We didn’t make a TikTok.”
“No. Oh, for the love of God.” Before I can say anything else, my phone pings, and I see a notification pop up that “MobileMooreMadness is now following you.”
I laugh. “Did Dad come up with the name?”
“Yes. He did. Oh, you sent it. Dad just sent it.”
“Mom, I know. That’s why I asked about the name.”
“Oh, OK. Well, I just wanted to c
all and check in and see how you were doing.”
“We are great. I’ll go like all your photos.”
“I miss you, Clarkie,” Mom says in her mushy mother's voice.
I groan. “I miss you, too, Mom.”
“Clark, have Kent call me. I need to get some tickets before the season ends. Millie and Roger want to go to a game,” Gran Tilly yells.
“Gran, it’s like literally playoffs right now. I don’t think he can just ‘get’ tickets.”
“Oh, is that why he hasn’t called me back?” she asks.
I sigh. “Yeah, he was home yesterday, but I think he’s gone this whole week. Try texting Tabby.”
“I will.”
“OK, well, you guys have a great day and I’ll talk to you soon,” I say as I wave to them. Mom moves the camera around so everyone can wave at me.
“Bye,” I add as I hang up. Grif and Evan burst out laughing.
“Oh my God. Your family is so fucking hilarious. Like seriously, they are clueless, well, except Nana who clearly has social media skills. It’s awesome,” Grif states as he walks back to his room.
I walk back into my room and flop down on my bed. I have no idea how I’m going to study when all I can think about is Megan and why she hasn’t texted me back yet. Damn it! Did I fuck this up beyond repair?
Megan
I pull down the top for the eightieth time since I put it on.
Kylie sighs. “Nope. Don’t wear that one. You are too nervous, and you keep fidgeting with it.”
“But it looks good,” I point out.
She shakes her head and hands me the second outfit.
I pull on the sweater and cute skirt. I don’t normally wear skirts but something about a skirt with pockets spoke to me. I twirl and a strange girly giggle escapes my lips. I clamp a hand over them. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Kylie rolls her eyes and laughs. “My job here is done. Go win back my baby brother.”
I turn to her. “You think I can?”
She laughs as she walks to my bedroom door. “I think you might be the only one who can.”
“Thanks, Kylie,” I murmur as I look back at myself in the mirror.
“Everyone thinks that Di is the big romantic in the family, but I might be a better matchmaker than she is,” Kylie says with a chuckle. “See you later, Megladon.” She shuts my door, leaving me to pull myself together.
“OK, you can do this!” I say to myself in my most authoritative voice.
“What? You aren’t going to put on a bandana and flex your arm, are you?” Stella asks from my doorway.
“Holy fuck!” I cry out as my hand flies to my chest.
She walks in and makes a lap around me. “Well, hot damn. You look amazing. I need your stylist in my life. Isn’t that Kylie Moore that just left, the blogger that writes for Vintage magazine?”
I nod. “That’d be her. She’s Clark’s sister.”
Stella nods and sits on my bed. “So, what are you going to say?”
I shrug and sit down next to her. “I have absolutely no idea.”
“How about…I’m sorry. I overreacted. You were right. I was wrong. I love you. The end.”
I laugh. “Uh, maybe like a pared-down version of that.”
“Oh, come on, just go for it. For once in your fucking life, just go for it. Win back the guy. Have your eighties movie moment.”
“What does that even mean? Should I like pull up in a red sports car and give him a cake on a dining room table?”
Stella stands up and stops before she walks out of my room. She turns and looks at me. “You don’t need a cake with an outfit like that. Just tell him the truth. That’s always a good place to start.”
I nod. “Yeah. I suppose it is.”
I grab my purse and head out of the house. It’s drizzling out and I decide to take my car. I practice my speech twenty times in my head as I drive the three blocks to his apartment. I just hope I’m not too late.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Clark
I stare at my computer screen, but my vision doesn’t focus on any of the words in front of me. I still haven’t heard from Megan and it’s been all day. I texted her again five minutes ago and said if she doesn’t at least respond with a middle-finger emoji, then I’m coming over there to confirm she isn’t dead. I’m half-joking. I’m two minutes away from calling Stella when there’s a knock at my door.
“Someone get that; I’m showering!” Grif’s voice rings out from the bathroom. I roll my eyes and get up, walking slowly to the door and wondering who the fuck is bothering us on a Sunday night.
I open the door and freeze. Megan. But not just Megan. Megan in a cute outfit, a skirt that shows her legs. Holy fuck, she has amazing legs. I mean, they were amazing in the dresses she’s worn to the bar and club, but damn, I clearly have not spent nearly enough time worshipping those legs.
My eyes slowly follow her skirt up toward her top which emphasizes her perfect breasts and then farther up to her face. I can’t read her. She’s not smiling, but she’s not frowning either.
“Hello,” I manage on a swallow.
“Can I come in?” she asks.
I nod and move to the side, allowing her entry.
She looks around. Evan is at a study group.
“Who is it?” Grif calls out as the shower turns off.
“Megan,” I state while keeping my eyes on her.
A moment later, Grif pops out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. “Hey, Megan. I was just heading out to the library. You two need anything?”
She shakes her head, and he scurries into his room.
I look back at her and clear my throat. “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask because I have no idea what else to say right now.
She shrugs. “Sure.”
I look in the fridge and pull out two beers. “Beer OK?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“It’s at least decent beer. I bought it. If Grif had bought it, you’d probably be turning it down right now.”
“What’s that about my awesome taste in beverages?” Grif asks as he walks into the kitchen.
Megan bites her lip to stop from grinning. “Oh, I think Clark here is jealous of your amazing beer tastes.”
“Typical,” Grif says with a grunt and a wink.
A laugh escapes Megan’s lips and I’m momentarily jealous that Grif got her to smile.
“Alrighty then, I’m off. You two kids have fun and don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do,” he says as he reaches for the front door.
“Great, we’ll do everything, then,” I retort with an eye roll.
Grif shuts the door leaving Megan and me standing in silence. I can hear a clock ticking and the motor of the refrigerator. We both look at each other, neither one of us speaking.
“So…” I start as I stare at her.
“Yeah…so…” she repeats as she looks up at me.
“I…listen, I’m sorry about last night. I overstepped. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. I was worried,” I explain.
She sighs and leans against my counter. “No, you were right. We didn’t know if anyone was in there and I was being too damn independent for my own good. I appreciate that you wanted to protect me, really I do.”
“But?” I ask.
She presses her lips together before she speaks. “No buts.”
I raise an eyebrow.
She laughs and puts up the hand that isn’t holding a beer. “OK. But you do realize that I can take care of myself, right?”
I nod. “I know that. Shit, you have taken better care of yourself than I take care of myself. That’s not even a question. You’re just very stubborn sometimes,” I state.
“Sometimes?”
I chuckle. “Shit, Megs, you’ve always been stubborn. You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t.”
Shrugging she sets down the beer and walks over to me. “Why would you want to protect me?” she asks, her eyes searching mine from beneath da
rk lashes.
I’m about to confess that I love her, that I never stopped loving her, that I am in love with her when a crashing noise from outside has us both turning our heads.
“What was that?” I ask, stepping toward the door. She’s two paces behind me as I open it and look down the open walkway to the ground floor below. I don’t see anything, but I hear the distinct scraping of metal on metal. “Stay here.”
“No way. I’m not staying by myself,” she whispers as she shuts the door and follows me down the stairs. We walk out into the small parking area in front of our building. I see a hooded figure running down the street. Looking around, nothing strikes me as off until I hear Megan gasp. She doesn’t wait for me as she starts running.
“Megan!” I hiss as I take off after her.
She stops suddenly in front of her car and I come barreling up to her. Her hand is on her mouth and my eyes follow her gaze. Fuck.
The windshield is cracked like someone hit it with a bat and there are scratches down the sides of her car. The top of her hood is carved with the word “bitch” on it.
Looking back at her, I see the shock wear off and tears start to well in her eyes. She doesn’t speak as she pulls out her phone and hands it to me. “Call them.”
“Call who?”
She turns her head. The tears now stream down her face and I am suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to pummel whoever did this to her car. “The cops.”
I nod and dial the non-emergency police number that pops up on her phone. Why she has that on her phone, I don’t know, but I’m glad she does. I explain what has happened to the woman who answers. She tells us to wait somewhere safe and that she will send out a police car.
Hanging up, I look over at Megan. “Come on, let’s go wait inside. We can’t do anything out here and I’d rather we be safe than sorry.”
She nods and turns to walk to the apartment. She makes it two steps before a sob escapes her lips. I pull her against me and let her cry. “It’s OK. We’ll get your car fixed. I promise,” I murmur into her hair.
“I’m s-so s-stupid,” she stammers as she cries into my shirt. “I sh-should have j-just s-studied and n-not h-had fun t-this semester.”
I squeeze her more tightly and kiss the top of her head. “No. You are not going to deny yourself living your life because someone is an asshole. You can’t control everything, Meg. When will you get that through your thick skull? You can’t do it. And that’s OK. Don’t stop living because things don’t always go as planned. Because sometimes the things that don’t go as planned are the best things.”
