Brandon smiled uncertainly. "Friday Eve?"
"Sorry, that's what we call Thursday at our place."
He grinned at Beth. "Has anyone ever told you that you're adorable?"
Beth blushed, slinging her music bag over her shoulder and bending to pick up her guitar. She wasn't used to such direct admiration from the opposite sex; it stumped her.
She cleared her throat. "So, should I meet you there?"
"No, I'll come pick you up. Are you in the dorms?"
"Longbourn 204."
"Eight-thirty okay?"
"Yup. I'll be there."
Brandon smiled again, this time wider. "See you later then."
He repeated this farewell again after walking Beth out of the music building. He was halfway down the sidewalk when he remembered he was going the wrong way. This is not a good sign, Beth thought ominously. Once back at Longbourn, Beth decided to get started on her English essay. The assignment was to choose an author from the seventeenth, eighteenth, or nineteenth century that had changed the way gender roles were viewed at the time. Beth hadn't had a speck of trouble choosing her author.
How Jane Austen influenced gender views through her writing, Beth wrote at the top of the page. Then she pulled out the articles she'd printed from the library and began a bullet list: defied social norms through living by her pen rather than marrying for financial security, rose above the stigma that the single daughter of a vicar would be sentenced to poverty, proved that a woman's value could lay outside that of wife and mother. Beth wondered if Miss Austen had had any clue at the time what sort of frenzy her scribblings would create.
After getting a rough draft of her essay together, Beth ate a sandwich, tossed back a glass of milk, and changed into skinny jeans and a cowl neck sweater. At eight twenty, there was a knock at the door. Brandon's smile was a bit too overeager for Beth, but she told herself that she would just have fun and not worry about the details for now.
The brisk night air proved to be a bit too chilly for Beth's sweater as they walked across the street to the quad. Brandon trotted along next to her, chatting about the Heralds' latest musical numbers and drama among the members. Every once in a while he would throw in a comment like 'see what you're missing?' or 'you'd be great at that solo.' It was getting old. He must have gotten the nonverbal memo, because he changed the subject to Beth's classes.
The quad was a large, grassy hexagon outlined by sidewalks. Sloping gradually upward from the quad was a hill peppered with trees. Brandon led the way to a spot about two-thirds the way up the hill, then spread a blanket on the ground. Directly across the quad, a large white screen had been hung from the east side of the administration building. He gestured for Beth to sit, then pulled a bag of popcorn and two sodas out of a backpack. Beth chaffed her palms up and down her arms unconsciously, and Brandon, no doubt taking in her every move, chivalrously offered his jacket. She refused, but he ignored her - pulling it off with a flourish and assisting her into it. As Beth threaded her arms through the sleeves, Brandon took on the persona of a wizened English butler, complete with accent. Beth laughed. It might not be true love, but at least he was entertaining.
~:~
William threw a disgruntled glance up the slope toward Beth. He had seen her scaling the hill with a lerpy blond guy, which had caused his heart to beat erratically at the sight of her. At first, he'd been wary - hoping she didn't look up and see him. But slowly his trepidation turned to disappointment.
Beth's musical laughter floated down to William - a reaction to her date's stupid butler impersonation. William, recalling Beth's icy looks and venomous wit, wondered what he would have to do to make Beth laugh like that. She had a smile line in her right cheek that almost qualified as a dimple. He watched her for a moment, lingering on details like her ponytail swaying when she shook her head, and the minor wince as she took a sip of her canned soda. Her skin was the color of a porcelain doll's, contrasted nicely by her dark hair. And her eyes……..were looking right at him.
William blinked, wondering how long she'd been staring back at him. He nodded curtly in her direction and her big, dark eyes locked onto his for a moment. Then she rolled them and turned back to the lerp.
"William!? Did you hear what I just said?"
William focused on the person sitting next to him, probably for the first time all night. Her voice had muted somewhere around the time that Beth had shown up. Before that, he'd only been able to hear something like 'wahn, wahn, wahn.'
"Sorry, I missed it," he answered, really not caring if he caught it the second time either.
~:~
Beth smirked inwardly at the show that was playing. Not the one on the big screen. The one just down the slope and to the left. William Darcy sat next to an unnaturally tan redhead who had been trying unsuccessfully to capture his attention for the last few minutes. Now he was looking at Red, but his expression was vacant in that 'lights are on but nobody's home' way. Probably the same look Beth wore herself with Brandon. Munching popcorn, she surreptitiously watched the progress of William's date, only occasionally responding to something Brandon said, or flicking her eyes up to the screen.
Red was really laying it on thick. She kept arranging her hair consciously around her shoulders and then checking to ascertain if William had noticed. Her makeup was sufficiently overdone, as was her self-pleased expression. She dripped off his arm like a wet dog after a bath. Admiration slid off of her in sheets like torrential rain, but for all the attention William paid her, it could have been insignificant patter.
Beth smiled to herself as she decided that they probably deserved each other.
"Hey, Brandon?" Beth whispered, jerking her head in William's direction, "Would you say she's a natural redhead?"
Brandon considered. "Definitely not."
Beth grinned. Of course she wasn't.
STOMPED-ON
"Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing, after all."
~Elizabeth Bennet, Pride & Prejudice
Beth struggled through the door of room 204 with her back pack, guitar case, music bag, and grocery sacks. As she unloaded her spoils from the Piggy Wiggly, she laughed quietly. Anyone checking the contents of her bags would've assumed she was suffering from one of two things: a horrible breakup or PMS. It was the latter. Out of the bags came a gallon-sized jug of cheesy balls, a jar of peanut butter, milk chocolate chips, a two-liter of Dr. Pepper, pink-frosted sugar cookies from the bakery, a bag of shoestring potato chips, two half-gallons of ice cream (Marshmallow Madness and Cherub Chocolate Chunk), and a can of whipped cream to replace the one she'd polished off at breakfast the other morning. Maybe I should've gotten diet soda, she despaired, looking at the buffet of calories before her. Oh well. It's only once every twenty-eight days.
As Beth deposited the ice cream in the freezer and set the whipped cream in the door of the fridge, a knock sounded at the door. Just before opening it, she had one of those uncanny insights into the future that whisper across the mind now and again. Like when you hear the opening strains of a song in your head, and the next second the radio plays the tune. Only, it wasn't quite so pleasantly surprising. The name Colton blinked in her head, and the next instant he stood in her doorway - freakishly tall, leaning casually against the frame in his Wranglers and boots. He'd even decked out in a cowboy hat and bolo necktie. His western-style shirt had an embroidered design of a rodeo king roping a girl in a miniskirt. Beth cocked her head to the side, scowling. Surely not.
"Miss Pride," Colton drawled. "Fancy seein' you here."
"Wonder of wonders, considering I live here," Beth answered dryly.
Colton just chuckled. "I like you, Beth. You're humorous."
Beth smiled placidly. "So, Colton. How can I help you?" The sooner he got to the point of his visit, the better. Beth had hormonal binging to attend to.
"Well, I'm visitin' my Aunt and Uncle Cartwright for the weekend."
"I figured." 'Aunt and Uncle Cartwright' were Longbourn's RAs. E
very visit was exactly the same. The Cartwrights would invite the most tempting array of Longbourn residents to their apartment for dessert, and Colton would pick his favorite.
"Auntie Cartwright mentioned some to-do you got goin' on tomorrow night."
Oh, no. No.
"I was hoping you'd give me the first turn at the dance."
Beth closed her eyes, wishing she could make him disappear. All the dorms held a stomp in their commons area each semester. It was just a casual get-together with dancing and food, and dorm residents were allowed to invite one guest. How untimely that Colton's bi-annual visit happened to coincide with the occasion. Beth supposed she should be grateful he didn't have any horse goo on his boots this time. Apparently his dessert-du-jour was Beth.
"Um," she began, clearing her throat, "I think I'm coming down with something, actually." Colton didn't need to know that her malady was womanhood.
Colton peeked over Beth's head into the apartment, his eyes zeroing in on the junk food littering the counter.
"Now don't you go ruinin' that pretty little figure. Your hips are just perfect for birthing."
Beth couldn't contain a shocked burst of laughter. Then she pinched the bridge of her nose. Was it too early to play the lesbian card? Or the highly contagious and suspicious rash excuse? Colton was nothing if not determined. She had seen it countless times. The only thing that rescued a Longbourn girl from Colton's affection was graduation.
Beth thought for a moment. One dance wouldn't kill her. The only way to avoid him completely was to stay home, and she really didn't want to skip the stomp altogether.
"We'll see how I'm feeling, okay?"
"'Atta girl, Beth." He made a noise that he probably used often to get a horse going, tipped his hat, and strutted off down the hall.
Why me? Beth thought desperately, seizing the cheesy balls from the counter.
One junk food fest, a sappy romantic movie, and Tylenol PM-induced sleep later, and Beth awoke to face her Friday. Classes were over by one-thirty, and so she spent the rest of the afternoon sharing her MSG-riddled plunder with Jenna, practicing her guitar, and listening to Jenna gush about Les Bradford. He had called her at least once a day since the movie date, and Jenna had invited him to the stomp.
Beth's lazy strumming cut off abruptly as she pinned Jenna with her eyes. "Tell me he's not bringing him."
"Not that I know of," Jenna qualified. "I invited his sister, though."
"But you're only allowed one guest, Jenna."
"Yes, but I know you haven't asked anyone, so I'm making up for you."
Beth glared at Jenna. She had considered asking Brandon, but she was fairly certain he would read too much into the invitation. And Beth didn't believe in leading people on.
"Well," Beth grumbled, "at least you didn't ask Les to bring a friend for me. That's progress."
"True. I did consider it though…….briefly," she added hastily, noting Beth's expression.
The girls made quesadillas and tomato soup for dinner, then joined in the bathroom to get ready for the stomp. When Jenna suggested an outfit this time, Beth agreed. The last time she'd refused Jenna, the consequences had been disastrous.
Thirty minutes later, Beth followed Jenna down two flights of stairs into the Longbourn commons area. The florescent lights that spanned the ceiling had been extinguished and hung with strobe lights and miniature disco balls. The shabby couches that usually sat in the center of the room had been pushed against the walls to make room for dancing. A refreshment table against the far wall beckoned dancers with popcorn, pretzels, punch, and cookies. The music was loud but not deafening. The girls had only touched down from the bottom step when Les materialized and swept Jenna into a twirling hug. Beth watched them, unable to stop a smile spreading across her face. At the same time, a ghostly sadness tugged at her heart. She and Jenna had been friends long before either of them thought about boys, and Beth couldn't help feeling a bit empty over the whole thing. As if he sensed her thoughts, Les set Jenna down carefully and squeezed Beth in a crushing (if less affectionate) hug of her own.
"Beth, you look amazing!" he said jovially.
"Thanks, Les. You're kind of obligated to say that, though - being the best friend's boyfriend and all."
"Yeah," he agreed simply, "but I mean it. And it will probably get me some brownie points, too." He spoke only to Beth, and she smiled in response, noting that he hadn't refuted the 'boyfriend' appellation. Beth patted him affectionately on the cheek and shooed him away when a slow song began and he looked longingly toward Jenna.
Beth strolled the parameter of the commons, coming up short when she saw William Darcy staring at her from the far side of the room. The redhead from the quad was dripping off his arm again, and once again, he seemed oblivious to her attentions. What was he doing here? Jenna said she hadn't invited him. Beth turned away, angry, and saw Colton descending the stairs. Was he actually wearing a plaid western shirt and a belt buckle bigger than his face? As he entered the room his hat was knocked off by the low ceiling that bordered the commons. When he bent to pick it up, Beth seized the opportunity, ducking onto the sidelined couch next to Leah from 201.
"Hey, Leah!" Beth hissed in greeting as she tried to disappear into the couch.
"Playing hard to get?" Leah inquired slyly.
"More like keep away."
Leah laughed softly. Beth had met her freshman year when they'd ended up in the same Courtship and Marriage class. Leah was twenty-six and a senior, with muted blue eyes that bulged slightly behind her glasses, and slack, mouse-colored hair. Leah was generally considered to be an overage eternal college student who had lost her bloom, but Beth loved her sense of humor - dry and understated. She'd often wished she had more time to spend with Leah, and from the looks of Jenna swaying in Les's arms, she was about to get it.
"Well, I hope you're stocked with evasive maneuvers, because I don't think Colton's giving up."
Beth sighed. "Where did he find determination like that? He could bottle it and make a killing off the profit. Seriously!"
Leah smiled. "I don't think he's that bad," she said contemplatively. "I know he comes on a little strong, but I'm sure he means well."
"Leah. He told me that I have good birthing hips."
Leah snorted. "It could've been worse. He could've said you had good breasts for milking."
Leave it to Leah to spin the positive. The girls laughed together, then took turns dissecting the couples on the floor, voicing over their sweet nothings. Beth was having so much fun that she completely forgot about Colton. Unfortunate, as he had just zeroed in on her location.
"There you are, you wily little cy-ote," he chided.
She grimaced as she looked up at him, almost breaking her neck in the process. Were there such things as steroids that made a person tall? Beth was about to throw her lesbian card, hoping Leah wouldn't mind playing along, when Colton yanked her up from the couch and prodded her onto the dance floor.
If he were merely a bad dancer, the experience might not have been quite as painful. But Colton was a bad dancer who thought he was Fred Astaire. This, combined with his height and his blatant lack of consideration for others, and Beth knew she would be waking up in pain tomorrow.
~:~
William looked on as Beth was thrown miserably around the makeshift dance floor. Her partner really was clueless - kind of like Kara. William hadn't responded to a single thing she'd said in the last ten minutes. He wished she'd let go of his arm. His only motivation for not shrugging her off was the hope of a reaction from Beth. Her eyes had darted over curiously during the quad movie, and the look she'd given William earlier tonight proved that she'd noticed Kara's lack of respect for personal space. Could she possibly be jealous? Not likely. But William realized that he liked the idea.
When the first song of Beth's torture ended she tried to graciously disentangle herself, but the hick was having none of it. He retained her for a second dance, and then a third. By the beginning o
f the fourth song, she tried to full on sprint for the stairway, but the redneck simply clapped a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.
Time for an intervention, William thought, separating himself from Kara. He squared his shoulders, stepped forward and tapped Texas on the shoulder.
"Mind if I cut in?"
Instead of posturing as William had expected, Texas threw his head back in laughter. "Another bull in the pasture, eh? I don't mind a little competition. I'll be back, darlin'. My mouth's drier than a desert cactus at high noon." He pinched her cheek affectionately, then veered toward the refreshments. Beth rubbed her cheek, and when her hand dropped, William saw a red mark. He swallowed his anger and held out a hand to her. She regarded him for a moment, deliberating.
"Out of cash?" she asked in what was clearly meant to be an icy tone. But it was hollow. All of her bravado had leaked away. William just looked at her, his hand still outstretched.
She sighed dramatically, then put her hand in his and stepped closer to him.
"You're welcome, by the way," William said a moment later.
Beth's eyes were the color of black olives, and the dim lighting made them seem large and innocent - like a puppy's. Her hair had been pulled back at the sides and hung free in the back. She wore a fitted red top and a denim skirt that ended just below her knee. Her legs were sheathed in knee-high boots that accentuated their…….well, legginess. As William scrutinized her, he noted an unnatural looking slit in her skirt that ran up to mid-thigh. He raised an eyebrow.
"Colton," Beth explained, miffed. "This skirt's a little narrow for swing dancing."
William nodded, trying and failing to conceal a smile. "He improved it."
Beth pinned him with a cold look and then rolled her eyes. Her beautiful, dark, bright eyes. Could eyes be dark and bright at the same time? One of the things William had noticed about Beth was that she wore very little makeup. With her stop-and-stare eyes and creamy fair skin, she didn't need to.
Pride's Prejudice Page 3
