Redesigned (Off the Subject #2)

by Denise Grover Swank

  Dylan ordered another cosmo while I was gone and I down it before I’ve realized what I’ve done. But holding a glass keeps me busy. Anything to make me look like I’m having fun. I soon find myself on my third drink in only an hour, more than I usually consume, but I need the alcohol to steady my nerves. Dylan might have my nerves on edge, but Reed has the rest of me on alert.

  The band switches to a ballad. Dylan leans his mouth in to my ear, his lips brushing my earlobe. “Do you want to dance?”

  Not really, but I can’t sit here much longer or I’ll drink myself senseless. I’m now trying to pace myself as it is. “Sure.”

  My response is less than enthusiastic, but Dylan doesn’t seem to notice as he pulls me to the dance floor, then settles my chest against his. His arms encircle my waist, his hands resting on the rise of my ass.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Dylan presses his body flush to mine and leans into my ear. “I’ve wanted you all night.”

  I can honestly say I don’t feel the same. If someone had told me a week ago this would be my response, I would have called them crazy. The only thing I feel at the moment is disgust. Disgust with Dylan but also with myself. I let Dylan’s family money and status fool me. I try not to let my body stiffen as Dylan’s hand begins to slide up the curve of my waist, inching higher. I reach for his hand and pull it down. I just need to make it through this dance and then I’m going home. Who the hell cares what Reed Pendergraft thinks?

  But Dylan doesn’t like my redirection and pins my hand between his chest and mine. When I try to pull back, his grip around my back tightens and he looks down at me with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Where’re you goin’, Caroline? I thought you wanted to be with me. Isn’t that why you had Tucker set us up?”

  I’m livid with Tucker, but then I realize Tucker would never tell Dylan what he’d done. He might tease me, but he respects me too much to betray my trust. Not to mention that he’d never risk Scarlett’s wrath.

  Dylan must have read my mind. “Fuck no, Tucker didn’t tell me. I overheard you, baby. But not to worry. You’ve got me now. I’m all yours.” He grinds his pelvis into mine to show me how much of him I get.

  His hold on me tightens enough that I’ll have to make a scene to get away from him. It’s not ideal, but I’ll do it before I let this shithead get away with molesting me any more than he already has. I’m about to forcefully insist he release me when someone interrupts.

  “I’d like to have this dance.” Reed stands to my right and it’s not a question. It’s an order.

  Dylan stops swaying. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

  Reed stares at Dylan, and I’m surprised Dylan hasn’t curled up into the fetal position under his scrutiny. “I spoke to Caroline, not you.” His gaze turns to me. His eyes are deadly cold, but I know his anger isn’t directed at me. Well, most of it. “Caroline, would you like to dance?”

  I nod, shocked into silence.

  Reed pushes Dylan’s hand off my waist and takes me into his arms. Dylan stares, probably wondering what in the hell happened.

  I’m wondering the same thing.

  The raw power rolling off Reed’s body makes my knees weak and I stumble, but Reed’s arm tightens around my waist until I’m steady on my feet.

  Reed lowers his face next to mine. “Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head. “No, of course not.”

  “Are you saying he didn’t have you trapped against him when I showed up?”

  “Well, yes,” I say in annoyance. “But the only thing hurt is my pride. I’m embarrassed, although I’m not sure why. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  He leans his head back to look at my face and relief mixes with something that looks like respect. “You’re right. I’ve never understood a misogynistic society that shames the woman for a man’s boorish behavior.”

  His speech is the first sign I’ve seen tonight to remind me that he’s really a nerd at heart. Moments ago, he was anything but. My pulse pounds in my temple, and my skin tingles where we touch. I’ve never wanted a man to touch me as much as I want to be in Reed’s arms right now. I look into his face and wonder why I’m wasting time fighting this reaction to him.

  And then he speaks.

  “Although, I’m not sure you’re one hundred percent inculpable here. You seem experienced enough to recognize an asshole like Dylan.”

  I’m not sure what to be most outraged about: that he finds me partially responsible for what happened or his slam against my reputation. “Excuse me?”

  “When you play with fire, you’re liable to get burned. Even children know this platitude.”

  Just when I think he can’t get worse, he proves me wrong.

  I try to break free of his hold but his arm keeps me in place.

  “Aren’t you doing the same thing you just called Dylan out for?” I seethe.

  His eyes darken. “The difference is you want to be here with me.”

  I want to call him a liar, but I’m too busy staring at his lips and wishing they’d do something else other than talk.

  His arm falls from my waist and he lifts his hand to my face, tilting my head back so he has full access to my mouth. He stares into my eyes, his own a blaze of desire.

  My breath comes in short pants as my stomach tightens and other parts of me throb. I want him to kiss me, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Ever.

  He leans down, his lips inches from mine, and his hands drop so that the only thing holding us together is pure want.

  “I think I’ve proved my point,” he murmurs into my ear.

  It takes me a full two seconds to figure out what point he just made.

  Reed Pendergraft has just made a fool out of me.

  I take a step back, horror crashing through me. I thought he was different, but it turns out he’s just as manipulative as Dylan. Their goals were different—Dylan wanted sex, while Reed wants revenge—but at least Dylan was up front about it.

  I take a step back. “Congratulations, Reed. Bravo. Point made.”

  Confusion flickers in his eyes before I spin around to find Scarlett. She’s dancing with Tucker and her eyes widen in alarm when she sees me. It takes me seconds to get through the crowd to her, but she’s already out of Tucker’s embrace, reaching for me.

  “Caroline, are you all right?”

  “I have to get out of here.”

  Reed is close behind, but Tucker has picked up that he’s the person I’m escaping from. He blocks Reed’s path, holding him back. Their shouts are lost in the noise of the crowd as Scarlett grabs my purse from our table and leads me through the crowd and out the doors to my car. “Do you want me to come home with you? You’ve been drinking.”

  I keep my face down, digging my keys out of my purse. “No. I’ve sobered up.” This would be easier to take if I was drunk. “Go back inside to Tucker.”

  “I saw what happened with Dylan. Tucker was about to go beat the shit out of him before Reed stepped in. What happened after that?”

  I find my keys and unlock my door with shaky hands. “Reed’s an ass, just like every other guy on the face of the planet.”

  “Not every guy,” Scarlett says quietly. “Tucker’s not an ass.”

  I look into her face. “Well, congratulations, Scarlett.” My tone is snottier than I intend, but I’m too broken right now to care. “You got the last good man alive.” I open my car door and slide into the driver’s seat.

  “Caroline….” she pleads.

  I see Reed push past Tucker out of the club. I can’t face him right now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You know I love you, but I just want to go home.”

  She nods and backs away as I shut my door. I hold in my tears until I’m turning onto the street and then break into a sob. This is my first good cry since I broke up with Justin last year and I’m pissed as hell that I’m wasting perfectly good tears on Reed Pendergraft.

  I’m the world’s biggest idiot and
Reed has just driven that point home. Again.

  Chapter Four

  On Sunday afternoon, I’m in the same place that I’ve spent most of the weekend. I’m bundled under an afghan on the sofa with my two favorite guys—Ben and Jerry—watching marathon sessions of Gossip Girl. Watching rich kids with mundane problems turned glamorous usually makes me feel better. But not this time. Maybe it’s because in the past, whenever I watched, I always presumed that I would live that life someday.

  For the first time, I consider the idea that I might not.

  The idea is terrifying. It’s not because I want that life. Having money has never been about having things, although that would be nice. Having money has been about having security. I recognize my need for money is unhealthy. I’m smart enough to know this, but my irrational fear of living without it still exists. It’s like people who hoard food. It’s not about eating the food. It’s about knowing the food is there if you need it.

  Tina had never been subjected to my wallowing last winter, but she must have been warned because she’s been scarce most of the weekend. I suspect she’s complained to Scarlett, because Scarlett shows up with two containers of ice cream and a plastic container of macaroni and cheese.

  She sets the ice cream and mac and cheese on the coffee table, then picks up my empty ice cream carton and the empty pot that I’d cooked macaroni and cheese in the day before. I hadn’t wasted time putting it into a bowl. Scarlett disappears into the kitchen and returns with fresh spoons, handing me one before she plops down next to me, crosses her legs and tucks the afghan around her.

  “Chuck has his French girlfriend,” she murmurs, taking the lid off the macaroni and handing it to me. “You’re already on season three.”

  I scoop a spoonful of noodles and shove them in my mouth, then shrug.

  “What happened?”

  “Dylan was a fucktard and so was Reed.”

  Scarlett pops a lid off the container of Phish Food. “Dylan’s no surprise so I guess I’m really asking what happened with Reed.” She digs ice cream out of the carton. “Caroline, it was obvious he’s interested in you. Even to me. How about I tell you what I saw, and you tell me when I get it wrong?”

  I eat another bite and nod.

  “Dylan was a jerk who tried to feel you up on the dance floor. Am I right so far?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then Reed intervened.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you danced with him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Caroline, what happened?”

  I sigh and set the noodles on the table. “At your party last week, Reed asked me out and I told him no, that I was too busy. Then Tucker brought Dylan over and Reed was still there.”

  Scarlett groans. “Then Dylan asked you out.”

  With a grimace, I lift my shoulder. “Well, it was more Tucker matchmaking, but I said yes.” My heart aches when I think about what happened next. “Reed got pissed, obviously, and wanted to know if I said no because of his major or because I couldn’t do laundry on his abs.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I don’t know what it is with him, but he gets me hot in zero to point-six seconds, and I said something I regret.”

  “I take it the hot you’re referring to isn’t sexual.”

  “Well that too, but in this instance, angry. It’s like he knows exactly which button to push to piss me off.” I pause, shame washing over me. “I told him it was because he didn’t have enough money.”

  “Oh, Caroline. You didn’t.”

  I cringe and grab for the other Ben & Jerry’s carton. I can take anything but Scarlett’s disappointment in me. “I was instantly sorry, Scarlett. I felt terrible and was about to apologize when his girlfriend showed up.” The reminder makes my own bad behavior more acceptable. “Who does that? Asks a girl out on a date while they’re on a date already?”

  Scarlett releases a heavy exhale. “I don’t know. So then why did Reed’s girlfriend take you to his table Friday night?”

  “She recognized me in the bathroom. She acted disgusted when I asked if they were at the club together, but she dragged me out to see Reed. He didn’t seem happy to see me. So I went back to our table.”

  “And then he saved you from Dylan.”

  “I could have taken care of it.” I say. “I thought he was saving me from embarrassing myself. Turns out he wanted to be the one to embarrass me.” I pause. “He told Dylan he wanted to dance with me, and he looked so pissed that Dylan just backed down. But then Reed held me just as tight, and I asked him what the difference between him and Dylan was. Reed told me that the difference was that I wanted to be there.”

  Scarlett cocks her head, her eyebrows rising. “And…?”

  “And then he acted like he was going to kiss me, and dropped his hold on me. I stood there waiting for him to kiss me, like a fucking idiot, and then said he’d just proved his point.”

  Scarlett shakes her head. “Wait. You wanted him to kiss you?”

  “I told you he gets me hot in both ways.” I press my head back into the seat and squeeze my eyes shut. “God, I’m an idiot.”

  “No, you’re not an idiot.”

  I open my eyes. “I am, but the worst part is that I deserve what he did.”

  Scarlett’s mouth presses tight in anger. “No, Caroline. I don’t care what you did to him, it didn’t warrant what he did to you. Especially after asking you out while he was already on a date.”

  I won’t argue with her because she’s loyal to fault, and she’d take my side even if I killed Reed in cold blood and stuffed his heart under the floorboards. “I should thank him.”

  “What?” She practically jumps off the sofa. “How can you say that?”

  “Two men, two disasters, less than five minutes apart. I’ve had a wakeup call, Scarlett. I’m focusing on the wrong thing.” I’ve given this a lot of thought as I’ve watched all the failed relationships on Gossip Girl. I’ve put too much stock into finding a guy and not enough into trying to shape my own future. Men are jerks you can’t count on. My last boyfriend was proof of that. I found out two months ago that he’s now engaged to the girl he cheated on me with.

  “I’m going to focus on my career,” I continue. “The upcoming fashion show is the perfect way to work on it. My advisor’s friend from New York is coming to the show to pick one of us to work in her design house after graduation. I’m going to focus on that.”

  Scarlett looks thoughtful as she takes a bite of her ice cream. “New York?”

  “That’s what you focus on after my speech?”

  “But it’s so far away….”

  I roll my eyes in exasperation. “What are you talking about? You’re moving to Washington D.C.”

  “Not next year. I’m going to start graduate school while Tucker finishes his last year of college.”

  “So you are staying.”

  “It looks like it.”

  My lip begins to tremble, and I bite it to keep from crying. “We knew this day was coming.”

  “But not so soon.”

  “We’re seniors, Scarlett. Of course, it’s happening so soon.” I give her a halfhearted smile. “It’s time.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I, but we don’t have a choice.”

  Her eyes are shiny with tears but she grins. “So does that mean you’ve figured out your designs so you can win the competition?”

  I snort. “Hell, no. I’ve been busy.” I wave my ice cream container at her. “But for now, these are the only two men in my life.”

  Scarlett’s mouth twists into a grin. She doesn’t believe me. I guess I don’t quite believe me either, but I’m sure going to try.

  ***

  On Monday afternoon, I’m in the dean’s office, sitting in the conference room. My fellow design students—Megan and another senior, Renee—sit in high-back leather conference chairs. Megan has a laptop in front of her and Renee has her iPad. My yellow legal pad lies on the black-grani
te topped table. We fill one side of the table. The other side is conspicuously empty. But we still have several minutes before the meeting is supposed to begin.

  “Ms. Carter said four o’clock, right?” Megan asks, checking the time on her phone.

  “Yes.” But I’m anxious anyway. I can see one or two people running late or cutting it close, but all three?

  The door opens and three people fill the room. A girl and a guy I don’t recognize, and the third person is Reed’s girlfriend. Or is she his ex-girlfriend? She’s still as energetic as she was the last two times I’ve seen her. She bursts into the room, her curls bouncing and a bright smile on her face.

  The guy’s face is flushed. “How is it that you all knew where to meet and we were given the wrong room?”

  We give him blank stares until Megan says, “Our advisor told us to come to the dean’s office.”

  “We were told the chancellor’s office.” His tone softens, but not by much.

  “Wait a minute.” Renee sits up. “Are you suggesting we told you the wrong location?” Indignation riddles her words. “Why would we change the location and not tell you?”

  His eyebrows rise and a sardonic smile darkens his eyes. “As some underhanded attempt to keep us from being part of the committee.”

  Renee rolls her eyes. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. If I really thought we could get rid of you all by giving you a wrong room number, I would have made sure you were told the date was a day later. Then you really couldn’t find us.”

  “See!” he shouts, turning to Reed’s girlfriend. “I told you!”

  “Greg,” she says. “Don’t be ridiculous. Our advisor told us to go to the chancellor’s office. It was a simple misunderstanding.”

  I stand and flash Greg a smile. “Why don’t we start over?” I point to my chest. “I’m Caroline Hunter.” I turn to the girls seated to my right. “This is Megan Thorn and Renee Rodriguez is on the end.”

  The non-design students remain standing so I forge on.

  “I confess this is new to us and not how our department is used to running the fashion show.” I cast a quick glance at Megan and Renee. “But that being said, we’re very excited the Monroe Foundation has chosen to partner with us to raise money for the underprivileged children in Middle Tennessee. We’re thrilled to be part of a community outreach project.”