Holding

by Jillian Quinn

  I’d know her voice, even though she spoke very little, and I would remember her eyes if I saw them again. I couldn’t stop looking up into them.

  Deflated, but not defeated, I turn around, deciding to give up my hunt for the night. The entire walk back to my fraternity house, I inspect every person I encounter. I study every face I see and every voice I hear. But she’s gone.

  Why did she leave without an explanation? Did I do something wrong?

  I hadn’t even crossed any lines with her, at least none that she hadn’t begged me to cross. Why did she allow me to devour her, sink so far into her that I couldn’t come up for air until it was too late? She even thanked me for a perfect night. Why come to the party just to kiss me and then leave? Nothing about this night makes sense.

  I almost wonder if I made her up. Am I that buzzed? Nope, I don’t think so. In fact, I could use a few more beers to dull the sting left behind from her ditching me. That was a first. Plenty of girls have used me for a hook up, and I’ve used them back. But this was different.

  The side door to the house is still open a crack. It’s no wonder we don’t get robbed all the time, but I guess that’s one of the perks of our president being the son of a Mafia boss. This house is under constant surveillance all the time. Luca’s family has their goons keep a watchful eye on things. They also have enough pull with the local police department to keep our parties from being busted every weekend.

  A small part of me had hoped she would be standing in the entryway, waiting for me. But the hallway is as empty as when I left it. I shut the door behind me, lock it, and lean against the cold metal, still thinking about how soft her lips were against mine, how she tasted, and how much she turned me on with every moan of my name.

  Lowering my head, I notice something shiny on the floor, its reflection attracting my attention. I bend down on one knee to give it a better look. Holding it in my palm, I analyze every carving of the gold charm necklace. The one thing connects me to my Cinderella and the one clue that can help find her.

  Chapter Five

  Ella

  I kissed Shawn Finch. Hell, I did more than kiss him. If we weren’t in that cramped hallway and I was in different clothes, I would have handed over my virginity to him on a platter. He had me eating out of his hands and ready to do anything he wanted. That’s part of why I had to leave. The other reason was my evil stepmother and the amount of time I needed to get Mrs. F’s car back before curfew.

  Before I lift my hand to ring the doorbell, Mrs. Feighry is standing in the entryway with a warm smile. She changed from her casual clothes and into a pink terrycloth robe and slippers. Mrs. F welcomes me inside and escorts me upstairs to change. I stare at myself in the mirror, not wanting to forget the night I had with Finch and every place his hands and mouth touched. For the first time in what feels like years, I’d had enough nerve to go after what I wanted. Always oppressed by the step-witches, it was nice to feel like my old self again.

  And Finch was everything I had hoped for and more. Even if I didn’t have a curfew, I chose the right time to leave. If he had known who I was, he wouldn’t have given me the time of day. It was better this way. I controlled every part of our night, including my departure. It was nice to have some control over something when my world is in complete disarray most of the time.

  After I finish admiring myself, I slip out of the dress, place it back on its hanger, and put what’s left of my mother’s ripped dress back on. Now, I look more like myself. This girl scrubs the floors and prepares the food in the Fitzgerald household. Not the girl who hooks up with sexy football players in abandoned hallways. But it was nice to dream for the night. Sometimes, dreams are all we have to hold on to at night. Thanks to Shawn Finch, I have memories I will never forget.

  Once I emerge from the closet, Mrs. F is sitting with Bruno on the bed, scratching behind his ears. The dog buries his face into her robe and situates himself on her lap.

  “It’s a good thing you have him to keep you company,” I say, softly.

  She nods in agreement. “Bruno helped me through some rough days with Mr. F.” Glancing up from the dog, she locks onto me. “My offer still stands if you’d like to join me sometime for tea.”

  “Thank you.” I sit next to her on the bed. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me tonight. I would love to come for tea. That sounds great.”

  “For such a young girl, you are so sad, but you seem happier than before you left. I take it things went well with that boy.”

  I smile at the thought of Finch. “It went better than okay. He was perfect and so was our night together.”

  “Fate,” she whispers. “Sometimes the stars align just right and everything works out for the best. I believe in fate. That’s what led me to Mr. F. I also believe that’s what led me to you, Ella. You needed someone. I was there at the right time.”

  “They say timing is everything,” I mutter, though I never believed in it much after my father died. Maybe Mrs. F is on to something, though.

  She checks her watch and frowns. “You had better get going if you want to make your curfew. See me when you can. I know your stepmother has rules that will likely prevent you from setting plans. Just stop by whenever you are free to hang out.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” I say and mean it.

  I can’t even remember the last time a complete stranger went out of their way for me. Never?

  We say our goodbyes. Then, I haul ass down the driveway and out the front gate. My feet and adrenaline carry me the rest of the way, and by the time I step foot into the foyer, I’m out of breath and have two minutes to spare.

  Of course, Clarissa is in her usual chair in the sitting room with one bony leg crossed over the other, facing the opposite direction as me. But I don’t need to see her face to feel her disdain from afar. She holds up her skinny wrist, and the silky fabric of her robe slides down her arm and bunches up at her wrist. Even though she knows I’m here, she won’t bother to get up on my accord.

  I don’t warrant her time or attention. She’s always made that clear through her snide remarks and devilish facial expressions. Her voice is always cool and calm, so unaffected that it puts you on edge because she’s screaming with her eyes, without even changing her tone.

  Before I close the front door, Bitch and Bitchier stroll into the house behind me, pretending as if I am a piece of furniture in their way. Their black gowns move with each sway of their hips, as they stomp their stilettos onto the white marble floor.

  “Mother!” Anastasia yells, announcing her arrival. The sound of her shrill voice echoes off the vaulted ceilings.

  I wish the girls were more like their mother and kept their tones hushed. When you combine their nasty comments with their angry scowls and their outdoor voices, it makes any interaction with them a lot worse.

  “Oh, Mother,” Natasha chimes. “You have got to hear this. Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Clarissa gets up from her chair, dressed in a tight black robe that falls to the floor, giving the illusion that she’s floating as she moves toward us. I can see why my father was attracted to her. She oozes grace and style and has every ounce of refinement one would need to marry someone as wealthy as my dad. But she’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The smug grin she wears like a shield is as fake as the veneers on her teeth or the French tips that never have as much as a chip in the paint.

  It’s unbelievable that she spoils her daughters so much that Clarissa has no problem with the manner in which they speak to her. My mother—as nice as she was—would have smacked the words right off my lips if I had ever talked to her with such disrespect.

  “Mother, you will not believe this skank who showed up at the party and caused a scene.”

  Clarissa cocks an eyebrow at Natasha. “What kind of scene?”

  “Some girl showed up in a pale blue ball gown and a mask with a purple feather sticking out from the top. Every guy at the party was talking about her all night. That bit
ch was the reason Finch wouldn’t talk to me.”

  I try to hide my victory along with the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

  “What are you laughing about?” Natasha snorts, shooting me a look of death “And where did you go looking like that?” She studies my tattered dress and gives her usual eye roll. Nothing I wear, no matter how expensive or fancy, would ever be good enough for my stepsisters.

  “Aww, she tried to get into the party, and they told her to get lost. Isn’t that right, Ella?” Anastasia says, moving closer, the three of them now surrounding me.

  I take a step back from my stepsisters and almost fall into Clarissa. She moves to the side because God forbid I accidentally touch her. For all I know, her skin might set on fire. This night was too perfect for it to end on a bad note. They take everything from me. I will not allow them to take away the feeling deep within my bones that Finch left behind. He clawed his way into my heart, claiming more than just a part of it.

  “What does this girl have to do with either of you?” Clarissa asks, twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger, looking bored.

  “Well, nothing,” Anastasia says, “but she was the center of attention. She screwed everything up for us.”

  I’m surprised Finch hasn’t hooked up with Natasha. In fact, I’m also shocked she would like him at all. He’s ruggedly good-looking and muscular in every place it counts. But he’s not rich like some of his friends. The only men Anastasia and Natasha date are rich and richer, which is why I wasn’t shocked when they told me about their sexcapades with Sebastian Prince earlier.

  My stepsisters are the type of girls who become trophy wives and use college as an excuse to party and find their husbands before they settle down. School is not about an education for either of them, where for me, it’s my sanctuary. Strickland University is my only escape from reality. Even reading is not enough to distract me.

  “If he doesn’t pay attention to you, my beautiful daughter, then he is not worthy of your time.” Clarissa flashes one of her fake-as-fuck smiles. “Time to move on. There are plenty of men out there.”

  For once, I got something Natasha wanted. I was already on cloud nine about Finch, but knowing that everyone at the party was talking about me gives me even more satisfaction. My stepsisters cannot know I was the girl. They would make every day I have left until graduation hell.

  “Some of the guys at the party were looking for the girl. She left something behind.”

  Clarissa throws her hands onto her hips, acting as if this conversation is beneath her, but she humors her daughters. “What was it?”

  “A charm necklace. I didn’t see it, only heard about it. Apparently, Finch chased after the girl with a Cinderella complex. She ran from the house and left behind her metaphorical glass slipper. Now, he’s determined to find this girl.”

  My heart sinks into my chest when I reach up to finger the necklace my father had given me and come up with only half of the heart charm. Losing the only thing I have left from my dad was not part of the plan. While I’m glad it ended up with Finch and not some random person, I cannot confess. It would be social suicide as if I’m not already enough of an outcast because of my stepsisters.

  How can I get the necklace back without exposing myself to Finch? I don’t see any way around it, but I’m also not about to let him keep my most prized possession.

  Clarissa snorts at Natasha and tips her nose to the ceiling. “He sounds like a fool if you ask me. I’m going to bed, girls.” She holds her hand up to her mouth and yawns and then turns to me. “I’d like pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Make sure you have everything prepared by the time I wake.”

  “And fresh squeezed orange juice,” Anastasia adds. “I don’t like that bottled crap you served me last time.”

  They take my silence as acceptance, and the three of them walk away without giving me as much as a second thought.

  I wish I had a choice, but I never had much of one. My options were limited to the local homeless shelter or here. I checked the shelter before I committed to this life, and even they didn’t have a bed for me to sleep. My father’s marriage to my mother had gotten him excommunicated from his family. Everyone thought my mom was a gold digger because she had no money and no real skills to offer an accomplished man like my dad.

  My grandmother more than disapproved of their union. Because of that, I never met anyone on his side of the family, and my mom didn’t have much of one. She was an only child, and her parents died when I was younger. I met a few relatives when I was a child but none that I could contact after my father’s death. This is my life, whether I like it or not.

  I have less than one hundred days now that the clock has struck midnight and another day is upon us. I’m one day closer to getting the fuck out of here. If that means serving these trolls their food for a few more months and washing their clothes, then I can deal with it a little while longer. At least I have the memories I made tonight with Finch to get me through the days.

  Chapter Six

  Shawn

  Weird things are happening to me. Lately, my fraternity brothers have used a few choice words to describe my erratic behavior. And they’re right. Desperate—a feeling I had never experienced until my Cinderella ran down the alley behind my house last week. Pathetic—what I look like right now, as I walk through campus, asking strangers for help and hoping that I don’t sound like a total loser. I sure as hell feel like one. Delusional—what I must be to seek her out as if I have any shot at finding her.

  “Have you seen this girl?” I show a lanky boy with dark hair a picture of the masked girl.

  He shakes his head and walks away.

  Yup, I look like a total loser.

  I repeat this process at least a dozen times before I swear people are dodging me as they pass. It also looks like I’m trying to find someone who’s legitimately lost—as in her face could be on a milk carton—when it’s not that serious. But I need to find her.

  I lucked out by finding the heart charm on the ground. But my luck didn’t stop there. When the girl had walked into the house, a few people snapped her picture with their cell phones. She’s the kind of girl you want to photograph. A girl like that turns heads, even in a crowded room. Having the pleasure of kissing her, and then devouring her delicious body with my tongue was a bonus. I’d kill for one more second with her.

  I haven’t been able to get her out of my head in over a week. That has never happened to me. With so many girls coming and going from my house, it’s not often that anyone, in particular, catches my eye. But she did. She has crept under my skin and made me feel something I’ve never felt before for a woman.

  This compulsion forces me to search for the woman of my dreams and chase after her, even though she probably doesn’t want to be found. We had a deal—no names. She wanted it to be this way for a reason. But the connection we shared was so intense that I have craved it from the moment she’d walked away. I have to see her again. I need her back.

  Scanning every face in the crowd, I study the curves of each girl and appraise their delicate features, all with one goal in mind—find my mystery girl. But, as each day passes, certain details are less clear, as if she were a drunken memory or an all too real dream I cannot shake. She was real. I wasn’t that drunk. In fact, I wasn’t drunk at all.

  After Law and Ethics class, I meet up with my fraternity brothers. We share the same class, but they sit in the back of the auditorium, where I cannot see a fucking thing to take notes. Unlike my roommates, my grades in this class are shit. I’m not even sure why I chose law as a major. I was undecided until the second semester of freshman year. But I was not the same Shawn Finch everyone knows now. Nope, back then, I was still growing into some of my weight and had no clue how to talk to girls.

  Joining a fraternity came in handy. I learned a lot from Luca, Mark, and Hunter. Those guys could sweet talk a girl in a white dress into eating a ketchup popsicle. Bash and Clay are the same as my fraternity brothe
rs. Scoring girls was never a problem for them either. Between football and fraternity life, my life was and still is good. But my lack of experience had made me awkward, to say the least.

  I chose Law as a major because of a hot girl. Without thinking it through, I was like why the fuck not? She’s the reason I barely made it through my final years. I should have switched to business or something more practical.

  Mark, Luca, and Hunter wait for me outside by the picnic tables. As always, Mark has his usual smirk plastered across his face, looking like the fucking Joker. We have been roommates long enough for me to know what he thinks before he speaks.

  “What did you get on the test?” Mark asks, taking a seat on top of the table. He plants his sneakers on the wooden bench and leans forward.

  I glance away from him, annoyed that he’s doing this in front of Luca and Hunter. He loves to embarrass me.

  “Nothing good,” I spit back, pissed about the D I got on the test.

  “Hmm…” Mark murmurs and doesn’t say another word. He’s such a dick sometimes that I want to knock him off the table.

  “You have to keep your grades up, man,” Mark says, after a long pause. “You can’t afford to lose your scholarships. I can talk to Teach for you if you want. I’m sure she’d be willing to give you some extra credit.”

  Luca laughs and runs a hand through his dark waves, the muscles flexing beneath his fitted shirt. “You’re already working her over enough for all of us,” he says with a wink.

  Slapping his hand down on his knee, Hunter laughs at Luca’s comment. Hunter is on the football team with me and about the same height and build. He’s on defense, where I am on offense with Bash and Clay. Hunter is also one of the shiest people I have ever met. He’s the type of person who only speaks when he has something important to say and mostly just listens to all of us fuck off with each other.