Undeclared (Burnham College #2)

by Julianna Keyes

  I like noticing things I never noticed before.

  * * *

  Crosbie and I brace ourselves as the team bus jostles over yet another pothole on our way to nearby Oregon State for a mock meet. Mock meets are exactly what they sound like—pretend track and cross country meets where we travel to other schools to see how we’re measuring up. This is the first one of the year, and though we’re always under strict instructions to stay in our hotel rooms and follow all the rules, there’s never been a mock meet where we didn’t do the exact opposite. I’m pretty sure I’ve been to every bar and club in the state, with Crosbie right there beside me.

  When we reach the campus at six o’clock, we go for dinner and listen to the coach’s standard lecture about behaving ourselves. Everyone nods obediently, but ten minutes after we retire to our rooms—ostensibly for the night—there’s a knock on every door that’s the cue to creep down to the elevator and out to whichever club comes most highly recommended and has the cheapest cover charge.

  Tonight, however, instead of leading the pack, Crosbie and I lie on our queen beds and slowly turn to look at the door. Then we look at each other. It’s almost ten o’clock on a Friday and instead of hitting up another foam party, I want to watch the last hour of game two of the World Series and debate the decision to pull Hewlett in the fifth inning, after he ground into his second double play. Crosbie loves all sports but he’s not as into baseball as he is into Nora, and he’s been texting her all day, trying to convince her to come to his parents’ house for Thanksgiving in a couple of weeks. Apparently she has a phobia about turkeys.

  “You going out?” Crosbie asks when I haven’t moved after two minutes.

  I hesitate. “Probably not.”

  He nods. “Cool. I think I’ll just stay here, too.”

  “Cool.”

  A pause. “Are you going to call Andi?”

  “Just to talk about the game.”

  I see him smirk. “Right.”

  I ignore him and dial Andi’s number. She picks up on the third ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “You watching?” It’s the World Series; I know she’s watching.

  “Yeah. Aren’t you supposed to be out dancing with snakes or something?”

  “That’s tomorrow night.”

  She laughs.

  “They should have left Hewlett in,” I say. “They need his speed.”

  “Speed doesn’t matter if he doesn’t get on base.”

  “He needs the vote of confidence.”

  “Where are you?” Andi asks.

  “I’m at the hotel. Crosbie’s here, too. Are you at home?”

  “No, I’m at Doolin’s, the pub near The Sling.”

  “I know it.”

  “And they know you. There’s a dartboard here with your face on it.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “Okay, but I’d be lying.”

  “Who are you with?”

  “Julian.”

  I sit up in alarm. “Crick?” I haven’t seen Andi since we parted ways after class on Wednesday, but we’ve been texting and I thought maybe some sort of boundary had been established. A boundary with me on one side and Crick way, way on the other side in the very far distance.

  She laughs. “Relax. He’s not here.”

  “That’s not funny, Andi.”

  “It’s as funny as the time I zipped that rat inside your duvet cover.”

  “That wasn’t funny either. You’re not a funny person.”

  “You were just jealous you couldn’t catch a rat and I could.”

  “I also couldn’t sleep for a week.”

  “Are you really with Crosbie?”

  “Yeah. Why?” I lower my voice conspiratorially. “You hoping for a little phone action?”

  “Dude,” Crosbie says.

  I roll onto my side so my back is turned. I know Andi’s not going to talk dirty to me, but there’s nothing that says I can’t enjoy the fleeting moment of possibility.

  “Dude,” Andi says. “No.”

  And moment over.

  “How about when I get back?” It sounds like a stranger is saying these words. How many times had a girl tried to corner me for round two and I’d raced around like that stupid trapped rat, desperate for a way out? My sudden anxiety ratchets up ten fold when Andi doesn’t reply right away. I force myself to sound casual. “Just kidd—” I begin, ready to play it off like a joke.

  “You’re back on Monday?” she checks.

  I freeze, praying desperately that she didn’t hear, but of course she did. She’s Andi and my luck is shit.

  “Oh,” she says. “Right. Never mind.”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I was just—”

  “Totally fine.” Her tone is brusque.

  “No, I mean, I want to.”

  “I have to go.”

  “Andi,” I say seriously. “Stop. I thought you weren’t going to answer.” I hate that we’re still in a weird place. Growing up we saw each other every day. We didn’t even make plans, hanging out was a given, as natural as breathing. Until it wasn’t.

  Through the phone I hear cheering in the background, and I glance at the muted television to see a player rounding the bases.

  “Whatever, Kellan. I’ll see—”

  “No!” I say it too loudly, getting to my feet and hustling into the bathroom so Crosbie can’t eavesdrop.

  “Oh, come on!” he calls behind me. “Don’t leave when it’s getting good!”

  I flip him off over my shoulder and close the door, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub.

  “Andi. You still there?”

  An aggrieved sigh. “Yes, Kellan.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say seriously. “We’re back in the evening on Monday, probably around six. Come over. You can let yourself in if we’re running late; I have a key under the corner of the front step.”

  She sighs again. “I can’t do that, Kellan.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t wait for you. I can’t always be waiting.” The last word is so faint I can barely hear it, but it doesn’t matter, because I know what subtext is now, and she’s not just talking about waiting on Monday. She means waiting that summer for me to admit I cared about her, and instead I kissed another girl—on camera, in front of thousands of people. She means waiting for me to figure out what I want, and not run away in the middle of the night after I get it. She means waiting for me to stop breaking her heart, because somewhere deep down, I’ve always known that that’s what I do. Whether or not it’s intentional, it doesn’t matter when it’s broken.

  “Plus I have a game that night,” she says as an after thought. “So I’ll just wait on that bench instead.”

  “You’re still not getting any playing time?”

  “I’m getting a scholarship; that’s what matters.”

  “Where’s the game? I’ll come when I get back. I’ll cheer for you.”

  “No, don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there will approximately nine people watching, and the second you show up, they’ll watch you instead. That’s even more embarrassing than only having nine fans.”

  “I’ll make a sign that says, Watch Andi!”

  “I will kill you.”

  “Let’s hang out on Monday after the game. Whenever you want. I’ll wait for you.”

  She hesitates.

  “Then after we can go back to my place—or your place—and I can let you do all sorts of things to my body.”

  She laughs, a heartfelt belly laugh that probably turns heads in the bar. “How lucky for me.”

  “You’ll finally have an outlet for all those dirty things you write in your journal.”

  “Kellan...”

  “Did you want to get started now? Just tell me what’s on the first page.”

  “There’s no journal, you ass.”

  “I’ll go first. We’ll start simple. What are you wearing? Don’t say
that old A’s shirt.”

  “The old A’s shirt.”

  “You ruin everything. I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

  When I return to the room, Crosbie’s still lounging on the bed, looking smug.

  “How’s your girlfriend?” he asks.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “So what is she?”

  “My...friend.”

  “Are you taking her to the Sports Banquet?”

  “It’s still a month away.”

  “It’s going to be here in no time. Nora and Marcela are already planning their outfits.”

  “Did Marcela convince Choo to take her?”

  “Not yet, but she’s working on it. She’s really fixated on the free steak.”

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t started badgering me.”

  “She probably assumed you’re taking Andi.”

  I drop onto my bed. With everything else that’s been going on, I hadn’t thought much about the Sports Banquet—or who, if anyone, to take. “Is it really that big a deal?”

  Crosbie’s not helpful. “You know it is.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “If I take Andi, everyone will talk.”

  “So? Actions speak louder than words. Taking Andi would say, ‘Hey everyone, we’re not just friends anymore, and it’s none of your business anyway, so fuck off. Also, come see Crosbie’s Holiday Magic Show at Beans on December eleventh.’”

  I lie back against the pillows. “That’s really saying a lot.”

  He arches a brow. “Isn’t it about time?”

  chapter fifteen

  Waiting for Andi is a novelty. She’s never been one of those girls who said five minutes and meant an hour, who said pick me up at six but wasn’t ready until eight. She takes five-minute showers and wakes up fifteen minutes before she’s due somewhere and is never late. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever really waited for her before. And I definitely never knew it was possible to look forward to seeing someone you’ve already seen a million times.

  About two minutes after the volleyball game ends, the front doors of Burnham’s oldest gym open and all nine fans trickle out, looking predictably dejected. They navigate their way around the puddles that dot the poorly maintained parking lot, and Andi should be right behind them. Because she doesn’t get much playing time she prefers to shower at home instead of changing at the gym, and part of the motivation for my gentlemanly waiting is the desire to see her in her uniform.

  Right on cue she emerges in striped knee socks, shorts, jersey, and an unzipped jacket. She carries a bag over one shoulder and squints up at the sky as she steps over a puddle, estimating the chance of rain. She doesn’t notice me and for a second I just enjoy watching her. Then I call out. “Hey.”

  My voice registers and she studies the sparsely populated lot until she spots me leaning against a lamp post, ten feet away.

  “What are you doing here?” She self-consciously swipes at her jersey.

  “You said I couldn’t watch your game, not that I couldn’t loiter in the parking lot.” It’s hard to answer as she comes closer, her lean thighs glinting in the light. I still remember the first summer I noticed she wasn’t just one of the guys. I jerked off to the image of her in knee socks more times than I’m comfortable admitting.

  “I like those shorts,” I add.

  “They’re just shorts.”

  “Paired with those socks, they’re something special. And let’s not forget this headband.” I reach out to touch the orange terry cloth band that’s holding back her hair. I say it like it’s a joke, but I’m pretty serious.

  “Oh, shit,” she mutters, pulling it off. “I forgot that was on.”

  “This isn’t something I say a lot,” I tell her, “but keep it on.”

  She laughs and starts walking, like that’s the end of our reunion. We haven’t seen each other in four days and she’s acting like it’s no big deal. On the bus ride back Crosbie was getting texts from Nora that made him blush, and he’s gotten some pretty explicit texts in the past. My stomach sinks as I walk beside her. I admit I didn’t have elaborate plans for this reunion, but I had plans. Well, I had plan. Sex plan.

  “How was the mock meet?” she asks.

  “Fine. We did well.” I’m trying not to pout, but dammit, I’m disappointed.

  The back of her hand brushes against mine as she reaches up to adjust her bag, and instinctively my fingers clench around the empty air.

  I clear my throat. “Want me to carry that?”

  “No,” she says.

  We walk half a block in silence, then she her hand touches mine again as she reaches up to release her ponytail. The only thing I like more than her legs is Andi’s hair when it’s loose, and I steal a peek as it swings free.

  I’ve been semi-hard the whole afternoon, anticipating this reunion. I had zero sex on the trip, zero flirtation, even, and all because of stupid Nate suggesting I don’t “jump” when I want to jump and instead “jump” when the moment is right. Also, I guess I didn’t hook up with anybody because I didn’t want to hurt Andi’s feelings. And because I don’t really want anyone but her, though God knows why when she shows no interest in jumping.

  I slow when we reach the turn-off for Andi to go to McKinley and me to carry on home, but Andi just keeps walking straight, in the direction of my apartment. I start to point out the error, then catch a glimpse of her ass twitching in those tiny shorts and decide against it.

  The third time her hand brushes against mine it dawns on me that I’m a fucking idiot. Instead of letting her fiddle with her bag or her hair, I take the hint and hold her hand. She doesn’t jerk away in surprise, just keeps looking straight ahead, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

  I try to hide my shock. Was she doing that on purpose?

  Still, I say nothing. Who needs words when actions obviously speak louder? She’s walking to my place. I’m holding her hand. We’re...something.

  I reach down to adjust myself and pick up the pace a bit. Andi misses nothing and says nothing, and neither do I.

  My block is dark and quiet, the only sounds our rapid breathing and the quick shuffle of our sneakers on damp pavement. I snatch the keys from my pocket, twist open the front door, and stumble when Andi fairly shoves me inside. I smile and whirl around to pin her to the door with my hips and my hands, though it’s totally unnecessary since she’s already got her fingers in my hair, rising onto her toes to kiss me.

  My cock grows impossibly harder.

  This might have been worth the wait.

  We fumble with our clothes, breaking apart only to yank our shirts off. Andi tastes like peppermint and heat and I can’t get enough. She’s digging her nails into my scalp so I twist her nipples a little more roughly than I have before. She responds with a whimper that’s so un-Andi-like that I feel it through to my toes. For far too long I’ve lived with the unspoken fear that settling for the known would mean I would be left to wonder about all the things I was missing out on, but now it’s starting to dawn on me that it’s not settling at all. It’s digging deeper, discovering more, venturing past the shallow connections I’ve survived on for too long and finding that this is the thing I’ve been missing.

  Andi pushes me back until my feet hit the bottom step, then she pushes again. I raise my brows to confirm her meaning and she nods, and I promptly sit my bare ass on the third stair. The wood is chilly but I can barely feel it, the sight of Andi’s lean, naked body suffusing me with heat. When she bends to retrieve a condom from her bag and toss it onto the steps beside me, I get dizzy. And when she stands and spreads her legs to straddle my thighs, I nearly pass out.

  Her pussy is at mouth height and as she starts to lower herself I grip her ass and yank her in, letting instinct guide me. I hear her groan as I start to lick, one of her hands holding the rail for balance, the other resting on my shoulder. Feeling and tasting her wetness confirms she’s as ready for this as I am, and that ego-boosting bi
t of knowledge makes something inside me tighten, something that has nothing at all to do with sex or heartburn.

  Before I can dwell on it Andi tangles her fingers in my hair and tugs me back, gazing down, lips parted. If I ever woke up in a jungle, this is exactly the woman I imagine would find me. I grope around for the condom, my clumsy fingers eventually finding and rolling it on. I hold my cock in one hand and her ass in the other, guiding her as she lowers herself into my lap. The strong muscles in her thighs quiver as she hovers over me, the too-sensitive head of my cock stroking over her entrance. She bites her bottom lip, hair tangled around her shoulders, and the visual sears itself into my brain.

  After a few prolonged seconds, I realize she’s hesitating. And after a few more seconds, I figure out why. She’s never done it like this before.

  “Hey,” I say softly.

  Her gaze flickers to mine and even though I desperately want to be inside her, I let go of my cock and cup the back of her neck instead, drawing her in to kiss her, reassure her. We can do whatever she wants. Not do whatever she doesn’t want.

  She kisses me back almost desperately, like she’s working up her nerve. I let go of her ass and slide that hand around to cover her pussy. She sighs into my mouth as I ease one, then two fingers inside, then she breaks the kiss and drops her forehead onto my shoulder, her skin damp.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” I suggest. “To my room.”

  She shakes her head, her hair tickling my bare skin. “Right here.”

  “We can change position—” I begin, but she interrupts with another head shake.

  “Like this,” she says.