She Wants It All: Sheridan Hall Series, Book Three

by Calla, Jessica

  Dave stares. Purposely trying not to check him out, I focus on his lush pink lips and keep talking. “We’re going on a date, right? I would have called, but you know, Juliet told me you don’t have a phone.” That’s another thing—what kind of weirdo doesn’t have a phone? I guess that’s a potential topic of conversation for our date.

  Dave’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, but he only turns his head and looks at the ceiling. I stop myself from making a joke about him catching flies in that trap. The silence is deafening though, so I touch my hair and let out a sigh. Shift. Bite my lip. It’s not until I point behind me and say, “I can go if you’re busy,” that he comes to life. I’m praying he’ll end the torture by saying, “Okay, see ya.”

  Instead, he yells, “No!”

  I hold up my hands and take a step back.

  Before looking at me again, he runs a palm over his face. His features soften, and his posture relaxes. “I mean… I’m sorry.” He opens the door wider. “You…please…come in.”

  I hesitate, not sure what I’m walking into. He waves his arm again. The way he jerks his head, indicating for me to enter, sets me at ease. I step into his room, and he shuts the door behind me.

  Keeping with the attic feeling of the second floor, Dave’s room is small, about half the size of mine. The peaked ceiling makes it look even smaller. One side of the room is covered in notes, photos, memorabilia, and concert ticket stubs. A guitar case leans against the unmade bed, between the bed and a dresser. In the center of the room, two university-issued back-to-back desks cut the room in half, forming a barrier between the two spaces. A folded pile of laundry sits on the other bed, which is neatly made. The only sign of music on the neat side is a pair of drumsticks.

  I point to the messy side of the room. “Yours?”

  “Yes.”

  His blondish-brownish streaky hair flops over his forehead, and I examine his highlights. Damn if they aren’t natural. They make mine look dull, and yeah, I’m a bit jealous.

  He rushes in front of me, pulling his blanket over the mattress and smoothing it out. I’m not the first girl he’s ever had in his room, according to the rumors, and the fact that he’s acting so nervous is kind of cute. While he fusses, I take the opportunity to scan his cargo shorts and T-shirt, stretched over his wide shoulders. As he makes the bed, a strand of brown beads escapes from the neckline of his shirt. Somehow, they add to his hotness.

  He glances at me before opening his closet. After he messes around in there, he turns and holds a bottle of water out to me.

  “Thanks.” I take it and unscrew the top while lifting my butt onto the loosely made bed.

  I wait for him to say something as I sip my water. He leans against his closet, stands back up and touches his hair, and then tilts toward his dresser. His jerky actions don’t fit his reputation of being a smooth-talking, sex-addicted rock star. It’s hard not to giggle at how uncomfortable he is, but I fear if I do, I’ll make this conversation even more awkward.

  He shifts his weight again, and his chest rises and falls. I’m startled when he blurts, “How was Miami?” The sound of his voice makes me smile. It’s shaky but musical.

  “Excellent. I didn’t want to leave. What did you do all week?”

  “Oh, uh, my band had some gigs lined up in the city.” He points at the wall and squeaks out, “New York? Uh, New York City?”

  “Ah. Yep, I’ve heard of it.” I nod, teasing him, and catch him cringe. At least he knows he’s being weird. “That’s pretty cool. Are The Randoms on their way to fame?”

  He shifts again at the mention of his band and moves his hands to his pockets. For a second, his eyes lock on mine before he looks away. “Ha. Yeah. I mean…no.”

  Dave’s so jittery that he’s making me nervous too. I have the urge to hug him and tell him to relax. Instead, I try to make a joke. “I’ve seen you play a couple of times. Remember that night at The Study when you knocked me over?”

  “Unfortunately, yeah. I’m sorry—”

  “You guys were great.” I smile, hoping to put him at ease. “I had a blast.”

  He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, which makes him straighten his elbows and lift his shoulders to his ears. “I’m glad you had fun—when you weren’t, you know, lying in beer sludge.”

  I stifle a giggle. “Ha.”

  His shoulders loosen up, and he moves closer, fumbling with things on his desk before sitting on it. His gaze wanders around the room then lands on me for a quick second. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He shuts it again.

  How on earth did this guy end up being the talk of NJU? He can barely speak. “So, I believe I owe you a date? Megan, you know, she pimps me out to all the guys.”

  He groans, and his eyes widen. “Oh no! I don’t want you to think that. I just…you know…wanted to hang out with you, but if you don’t want to, I mean, that’s okay.” He rests his bare feet on the seat of his desk chair, and my pulse quickens. I’d never think nervous and sexy could go together, but Dave seems to have the look down pat. I want to touch his knees and run my hands up his thighs under his shorts.

  I tilt my head. “I guess I’m surprised you wanted to go out with me. You haven’t said much to me all year.”

  He sighs and hides his face in his hands. I study those highlights, debating whether to revolt against mankind and the unfairness of a boy having such beautiful hair. When I tear my gaze from his head, I notice his chest rising and falling with his breaths. I’m afraid he’ll pass out. “Are you okay?”

  He drops his hands and looks up at me. “Can I be honest?”

  I shrug.

  “Since the beginning of the year I just… you.”

  I wait, but no words follow. “What about me?”

  He waves his hand in circles in front of his own face. “You have hair…and eyes.”

  “I do. Have hair and eyes.” I raise my eyebrows.

  He swirls his hand around his face again. “That face… you’re… you smell.”

  I gasp and move my nose to my shoulder, sniffing. “I smell?”

  “Good!” he yells. “You smell good. I used to sit behind you in psych last semester, and I’d smell you.”

  I’m not sure whether to be freaked out or flattered. “Oh. Well—”

  He cringes. “Like, I wouldn’t sit there and sniff you, but you know how you can smell people?”

  I squint, not exactly sure how to answer.

  “Oh jeez.” He runs his fingers through his hair then locks his eyes on mine again. “Fruity.”

  I nod. “Okay, fruity?”

  “Your smell. It’s fruity.” Pointing up to the ceiling like Einstein with an idea, he says, “Like fruit!” Then he grimaces and sticks his hand back in his pocket.

  I grab a lock of hair and pull it toward my nose. I guess I smell fruity from my strawberry shampoo. I’ve never been told that before.

  Dave sucks in a deep breath, and his terrified, twinkly eyes find mine. “You had a boyfriend, and I couldn’t speak a sentence around you anyway. Then I became friends with Megan, and you and your boyfriend broke up, and I know I kind of bribed her into making you go out with me, but it’s only because, first, I never thought you would, but also, I mean, as you can see, I’m a total, complete idiot.”

  He pauses for a second, watching me. When I don’t object, he says, “Yeah, this is super obnoxious. I mean, I told you that you smell. You’re here, in my room, and I can’t…” His shoulders sag, but he tilts his head and the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin. “How much do I suck?”

  And there’s that nervous charm again. Is this his game? Is this how he woos all the girls? I reach out and give him a playful shove. “You don’t suck.”

  If this is his game, I’ll play. Being with this disaster of a guy melts a piece of the anger shield I’m wielding against boys and their evilness. I’ve always wanted this, this power over a man. I’ve read stories about strong women and the men who adored them, but I’ve nev
er had it myself.

  Winston never lost his words around me. I love that Dave is completely freaking out. Rock star, ha! He’s charming me, all right. Not how I thought he would though. Not with confidence and raw sexuality like during his performances. He’s charming me with his insecurity.

  I sneak a peek at him again. He twists his lips, looking from me to something behind me. My mother would call him a strange bird. He may be, but he’s a damn cute one.

  I move to the desk and stand in front of him so we’re inches apart, eye-to-eye. He freezes, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest. I lace my hands behind his neck, and my fingers brush his hairline. His skin is warm, and I sigh at the softness.

  Touching him wakes something up inside of me. Something that’s been missing for months, since Winston and I broke up. I want Dave to want me even more. Suddenly, it’s the most important thing in the world to me, knowing I’m still wanted, even though my heart has been damaged.

  I twist my head, flirting, letting my hair slide down over my shoulder and loving the way it tickles my arm. Glancing down at my cleavage, I notice the ruffle of my shirt has shifted, the material pressing against my breasts with each of my breaths. I look back up at Dave’s sexy, chiseled face and pucker my lips into a glam smirk. His eyes are wide, darting around my face. My heart races. It’s like my fem switch has been powered from sleep mode to on.

  I think for a second about what to do next. I end up whispering, “What about you, Dave?” I haven’t worked my flirt for so long that I worry maybe I lost it. But as if on autopilot, I move closer and ask, “Do you smell fruity too?”

  Those twinkly eyes stare like a deer in headlights. When I hook my thumbs through the beads he’s wearing, he gulps, his Adam’s apple traveling up and down his neck. “U…uh….”

  On my deep inhale near his ear, I make sure my breasts graze his chest. He smells like the outdoors, like laundry that’s been on the line in the spring breeze all day. His wooden necklace smells like sandalwood. When was the last time I had my arms around a guy’s neck? I couldn’t remember.

  I slide my fingers along his collarbone, fingering the beads. “Can I borrow these?”

  At his silence, I pull away to make sure he’s still breathing. His lips part like he may answer, but he doesn’t. My fingers brush his neck as I find the clasp and twist it open. “I take that as a yes.”

  The poor guy sways, like he’s about to pass out. I know it shouldn’t make me as happy as it does. I know I should want a man to love my brain more than my body. My intelligence over my femininity. But as his eyes travel over my face, my neck, my hair, I decide to worry about that another day. Because I’m certain that if I asked Dave for the world right now, he’d probably try to give it to me. Knowing that makes me powerful, and I haven’t felt powerful in a long time.

  And that has nothing to do with my brain.

  I whisper, “Is Friday okay? For our date?”

  When the beads are unclasped, he bows his head. As I ease them from around his neck, I feel his goosebumps under my fingers and grin.

  He watches me put them on and follows their trail down to my boobs. Quickly, he looks back up to my face and gulps again.

  I touch his chin, curious to see the effect. His breath gets heavy and audible. I pause for a second, then ask again. “I know words seem tough right now, but can you tell me if Friday’s good?”

  Dave nods. I smile and let go of his chin. Before he has a heart attack, or I fall for him after I’ve decided to ban boys from my life, I step away.

  What am I doing? I’m playing with Dave’s affection for me, knowing full well that I can’t let anything happen between us. I turn the switch from fem mode back to sleep mode and take the two steps to the door. “See you Friday.”

  When I open it, he calls from behind me. “Wait.”

  I turn to look at him.

  He glances at his beads. “Um, thanks. Friday. Yes.”

  I smile and shrug. “No need to thank me. A deal’s a deal right?”

  With a wave, I leave. I feel his eyes on me as I walk down the hallway. Maybe I pretend a little that the hallway is a runway and put a swing in my hips. When I reach the staircase, I turn. He’s still watching. I knew he would be. He waves back.

  So much for my anti-romance campaign. If Dave keeps up this super sweet nervous act, I’m doomed.

  Chapter 2

  Dave

  Holy shit, it’s Friday. I jump out of bed at five a.m. Date day. The start of something fabulous with the girl of my dreams. That is, if I can manage a sentence.

  I run down the hall to the bathroom and wash my face, wondering what Maggie’s doing downstairs. Idiot. She’s sleeping like a normal person. I can’t contain my nervous energy, so after a quick stop in my room to grab my keys, I bolt down the stairs and head outside for a bike ride.

  I ride up the hill to north campus then back down to the football stadium and south campus. The sun rises, the air is fresh, and the music of spring is all around me. Birds chirp and the breeze blows through newly sprouted leaves. I inhale deeply and smell the blooming flowers. Ah, springtime. Love is in the air.

  Thoughts of Maggie whispering in my ear and touching my neck run through my mind until I hear my name being yelled.

  I U-turn and see Megan slowing down her jogging pace. Then she walks in circles on the corner taking deep breaths. I pedal toward her.

  “What are you doing out so early?” She bends at the waist and holds her knees, panting.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Tonight’s my date with Maggie.” I hop off my bike and rest it against one of NJU’s famous cherry blossom trees.

  Megan straightens up and grabs her foot behind her, stretching her quad. “She’s looking forward to it.”

  I grab her shoulders, and she wobbles. “She is? Did she say that?”

  Megan puts both feet on the ground and smiles. “Maybe.”

  “Well, when you get back to your room, tell her I said I can’t wait.” I rub my chin. “No. Not ‘I can’t wait’. That sounds psycho. Does that sound psycho?” I don’t let her answer. “How about—”

  “How about, ‘I saw Dave, and he’s looking forward to tonight too’.”

  I think for a second. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Walk with me?”

  I walk alongside her, pulling my bike between us. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a total idiot around her.”

  Megan shrugs. “You’ve been lusting after her since forever. It’s a big night.”

  “Are you an idiot around Ben?” Megan and Ben have recently come out as a couple.

  She chuckles at my question. “I may get a little flustered sometimes because, you know, he’s amazing and all.” When she smirks, I cross my eyes and make a face. Ben’s never been a fan of mine, mostly because I can’t help flirting with Meg. She and I know it’s innocent. I always tell her she reminds me of my annoying sisters. “But I think it was the opposite for me. I was sort of shy and insecure with other people, but with Ben, I knew I could be myself.”

  “Huh.” I don’t feel like myself with Maggie. I’m used to feeling cocky and confident. I have no problem whipping off my shirt and singing to a crowd of hundreds of people. With Maggie, I’m insecure and shaky, and sure as hell not good enough for her.

  Megan must catch my reaction. “Everyone’s different. Something about Maggie drew you in from the start and made you want to get to know her. Don’t think too hard. Enjoy your date tonight with no pressure.”

  “Yeah, right.” All I feel is pressure. Pressure to make Maggie like me. Pressure to not be a total jerk. Pressure to put together subjects and verbs and make sentences. “When I’m around her, it’s like I’m like a thirteen-year-old in a nineteen-year-old’s body.”

  Megan laughs again. “Let me tell you something, Second Floor Dave. Something that breaks the girl code.”

  We stop walking, an
d Meg moves closer, leaning over the bike. “Maggie told me that no guy has ever seemed as interested in her as you do. She thinks it’s sweet.”

  I wouldn’t say “sweet” is the word used by most girls to describe me, but I can work with it. “Nobody’s been interested? That makes me feel better.”

  “Dave!”

  Her reaction startles me. I guess that was a dick thing to say. “I mean, not better that nobody has ever been interested enough to be a basket case around her, but better that she is okay with it and thinks it’s sweet.”

  She tsks. “Okay, understood.”

  “How are there not a million guys interested in her? And what about Winston?”

  Meg smirks and rolls her eyes. “What about him?” Her reaction makes me think the breakup must have been ugly.

  “They seemed into each other.” I’m fishing for information and I’m sure Meg knows it.

  “Do you know their background?”

  In my Magdalena Patrinski research-slash-cyberstalking days, I’d learned that Winston and Maggie were each other’s first loves. They met up at Sheridan Hall randomly as neighbors. “Childhood sweethearts. That’s all I know.”

  Meg sighs. “She thought he was moving overseas, and she’d never see him again. When she found him living next door, she decided it was fate or some twist from the universe. She embraced it full on. He didn’t.”

  “Douchebag.”

  She reaches over the bike to nudge my shoulder. “Winston’s not terrible. What he did was terrible, both the breakup and not telling her he was coming to NJU. But I think all along he had different goals than Maggie when it came to relationships.”

  Goals and relationships are words I’m not used to hearing together. Neither word is my specialty. Goals? For now, my goal is to make it through this date. Relationships? Not great at those either. “What exactly are Maggie’s goals when it comes to relationships?”

  Megan starts to walk again. “You can ask her on your date tonight. I already broke the girl code.”

  “Oh, come on. Please? I’m desperate here.” I use my singing voice and flash my rock star grin. “Help me, all-knowing basement dweller.”