A Love that Endures

by Forrest, Bella

  The prick. He made a mental note to report the guy ASAP.

  Letting out a sigh, he turned back to face the girl. She was stirring, her eyelids lifting slowly. They revealed a pair of glazed, light-brown eyes.

  “Um, hi,” David said.

  “Whad-do-you . . . Who’re . . . Where’s . . . ” the girl mumbled, her dry lips working to form the words. A deep frown creased her soft brow as she tried to lift her head.

  “Where are you from?” David asked clearly, figuring he really ought to be taking the initiative here, as far as questions were concerned. “Did you come with friends?”

  “I—No. Princess. Friends. Yes. But this house . . . Oh no . . . I shouldn’t . . . Where . . . I need . . . My brain . . . ” Her head plopped back down on the mattress, and her eyelids drooped shut. Her breathing grew steadier as she passed out again.

  David frowned, somehow even more confused than before she’d opened her mouth. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t feel comfortable leaving her here. While he’d warded off one creep, with the insanity going on below them, there could easily be others lurking just around the corner. The house was full of wasted strangers. Not the best place for a nap.

  He rose to his full height and sighed, gazing around the room and trying to figure out his next step. He could carry her downstairs, he supposed, and ask around to see if anybody knew her. But given how drunk everyone was, he doubted that would be terribly productive.

  His eyes caught a shiny black purse that had been dropped on a chair, and he walked over to it tentatively. He figured it must belong to her, and while he didn’t exactly feel comfortable rifling through an unconscious girl’s belongings, he suspected it would be the best and quickest route to getting her out of there.

  He unzipped the purse and spotted her student ID tucked in one of the pockets. It read “Cassie Harrison.” His fingers brushed against a folded white envelope, and he pulled it out, grateful that it bore an address. 13 Welwyn Street. That was just down the road. But was it Cassie’s residence? The letter wasn’t addressed to her, but rather to “Katy Navarre.”

  Harrumphing, he set everything back down on the chair and hurried back to his room to grab his phone. As he walked back to help Cassie, he punched her name into the student directory. A few moments later, it confirmed that she did, indeed, live at that address.

  Welwyn Street it is.

  He replaced the envelope and the card in her purse and zipped it back up, tucking the small bag under his arm for safekeeping. Then he turned back to the unconscious girl, who was unfortunately clad in an extremely skimpy dress. It was going to make carrying her rather awkward, given more of her skin was showing than not, but he didn’t have much choice. He just needed to get this over with ASAP—for his sake as much as hers.

  He picked Cassie up, cupping one hand under her knees and the other around her waist, careful to rest her head against his shoulder so it didn’t hang uncomfortably. She barely stirred. David slipped out of the room, ignoring the questioning looks from two guys loitering in the hallway. He sped down the stairs and hurried past the still-heaving living room into the rear of the house. He managed to reach the back door, grateful he’d made it without encountering any obstacles.

  A moment later, he was outside once more, hurrying down the street in the now-chilly air.

  Cassie mumbled something indecipherable and draped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, a sleepy smile playing on her lips.

  David fought the urge to roll his eyes. At least someone’s comfortable.

  Thankfully, it only took five minutes to reach the address. Approaching the driveway, he gazed up at the three-story house. Most of the windows were brightly lit, so the residents were likely still awake, something he was grateful for. He really didn’t feel like standing out here ringing the doorbell into the wee hours of the morning.

  As he opened the gate and took the footpath that snaked up the front lawn, a flash of black in one of the windows caught his eye. He glanced up to see a dark-haired girl peering out, wearing nothing but her underwear. His eyes widened in surprise just as she ducked out of sight, evidently realizing he had spotted her.

  David shook his head. Focus.

  He hurried to the front door and pressed his nose against the buzzer to ring it. It chimed loudly three times. He stepped back, wetting his lower lip and checking that his grip around the girl hadn’t unknowingly slipped from “rescuer” to “creeper” during the journey over.

  The door swung open, bathing him in warm orange light. A curvy brunette girl stood at the threshold, gazing out at him with narrowed eyes.

  “And who are you?” she asked with a slight slur, arching an eyebrow. She was tipsy, too, and David realized her face was vaguely familiar. Had she also been at the Wolf Club earlier?

  “David. David Rosen,” he replied, already moving forward with Cassie. The brunette took the cue and stretched out her arms, helping him lower the unconscious girl onto the fluffy entryway carpet.

  “And what were you doing with Cass?” she asked, her voice still thick with suspicion. “What happened to her?” Her eyes ran along the girl’s bare skin and her strappy, light pink dress, now smudged all over with multicolored paint from David’s shirt. Her arms, legs, and cheek were stained, too.

  David dry-swallowed, realizing how easily the situation could be misconstrued. He figured the truth was best.

  “I’m a member of the Wolf Club, and I found her passed out in a room near mine. Some plastered guy was . . . bothering her, so I shooed him away and figured I ought to make sure she got home safely. I plan to report him in the morning.”

  The brunette frowned. “How did you know where she lives? And what’s with the paint?”

  He reached beneath his right arm and presented Cassie’s glittery purse. “Rummaged through this and found her ID,” he said bluntly. “And the thrown-up-on-by-a-unicorn look is courtesy of a hazing ritual my housemates thought was somehow funny.”

  The girl gave him a long, considering look, then nodded slowly, her lips quirking in a coy smile. “I guess you’re a bit of a hero then. I’m Michelle. Thanks for returning her safely.”

  “No problem, Michelle,” he replied, already backing away from the house. “And good night.”

  “You too, Prince Charming.” She threw him a flirty wink.

  Just as David was turning, he could’ve sworn he saw that flash of dark hair again running up the stairs in the background—but a second later, the door was closed.

  He walked down the path toward the gate with a weary sigh. It was just going to be a shower and then bed when he got in. As much as it killed him, he had to accept that there was going to be no more studying done tonight. He was just too exhausted.

  David was a step away from the road when a voice suddenly called out from above. He turned to see the dark-haired girl again, leaning out the open window, this time wrapped in a white bathrobe.

  “Hey there, David,” she shouted. “Thanks for rescuing my friend!”

  He stood there, staring for a moment at what had to be one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen.

  “Uh, sure,” he called back, half wondering if the darkness was playing tricks on him. He squinted, trying to make out the rest of her features more clearly, but she flashed him another quick smile, closed the window, and ducked away again before he could catch them.

  Still, David stood there a few moments longer, staring at the now-empty window, an odd feeling of warmth spreading across his chest at the way his name had sounded rolling off her tongue. Then he turned with a shake of his head and sprinted for home.

  This night had gone on far too long.

  6

  Katy

  “Oh, Cassie,” Katy chided. “Cassie, Cassie, Cassie. Whyever did you drink so much?”

  Cassie moaned from her seat at the kitchen table, where she was slumped over a glass of orange juice, sipping slowly from a straw.
“Don’t talk so loud. Jeez. I didn’t realize I was drinking so—” She winced and clutched her head.

  Katy sighed at her cousin’s irresponsibility and continued layering maple syrup onto two jumbo waffles. When she looked up from her handiwork, Cassie was still hunched over her orange juice.

  “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” she mumbled.

  “Of course not,” Katy replied, frowning. “Who would I tell, anyway?”

  “I don’t know . . . your parents. I’d rather it didn’t get back to anyone at home.”

  “I won’t,” Katy promised, sliding the waffles in front of Cassie. Of course she’d spare her cousin that embarrassment.

  She patted Cassie on the shoulder. “Now, eat this. It should make you feel better.”

  Katy didn’t know what she was talking about from personal experience, of course. She’d never been drunk, but Cassie had woken up moaning for food, and who didn’t feel better after waffles? Katy waited patiently by her friend’s side, sipping on her own glass of orange juice, until Cassie looked up from her plate.

  “I don’t think I remember anything from last night,” she said around a mouthful. She looked like the living dead, her face pale, lips dry, eyes baggy. Cassie raised a hand to stifle a hiccup. “Except, maybe . . . a hazy memory of some handsome man with his arms wrapped around me.” Her lips stretched into a pensive smile. “I can live with that memory.”

  Katy grinned back mischievously. “His name is David, sweet cousin.”

  Cassie fanned her face in exaggeration.

  Katy laughed. “He showed up at our doorstep carrying you like a princess and handed you over to Michelle, saying something about keeping a drunken jerk away from you. Also . . . ” She gave Cassie a wry smile. “He’s British. Michelle called him Prince Charming.”

  Cassie giggled. “Oh, I wish I remembered details. What did he look like? What color are his eyes? Blue?”

  Katy quirked her lips to the side. “Well. The first thing I noticed was he was covered in splotches of paint, which is why your—my—dress is basically ruined. But other than that, he seemed uber dreamy. Tall, dark, and handsome . . . I caught a better glimpse of him from the staircase but wasn’t close enough to see his eye color.”

  Cassie’s eyes glowed at David’s description. It had been a while since Katy had seen her cousin this enthusiastic on the subject of men. Maybe Cassie was finally getting over the long slump from her previous relationship—just like Katy had resolved to do.

  This guy David was handsome. And clearly heroic. She didn’t know how many other guys on this campus would go out of their way to help a stranger the way he’d done. Men like that seemed to be becoming a rarer breed these days. She certainly wouldn’t mind seeing him again, even if it were to confirm the shade of his eyes . . . More importantly, they owed him a proper thank you. Shouting it out of a window didn’t quite cut it in her book.

  Katy fiddled with her straw. “You know, I’m thinking we should go look for him at the Wolf Club, to say thanks.”

  “Oh my God. No!” Cassie exclaimed, clutching her chest. “I would die of embarrassment if I ever saw him again. He must think I’m an awful person.”

  Katy frowned. “I doubt that. Nitwitted, yes. Awful—probably not.”

  Cassie nudged Katy in the arm. “Hey.”

  “Seriously, though. Don’t you think you should thank him in person?” Katy asked. “Who knows what would’ve happened to you if he hadn’t stepped in? It would only be decent, and we have his name and address, so he won’t be hard to find.”

  Cassie went quiet, stuffing another forkful of waffle in her mouth.

  Katy leaned back in her chair and took a bite out of an apple. “If you don’t feel like it, I could always go on my own.”

  Cassie cast her a curious glance. “Why are you so keen on going to see him, anyway?” she asked. “You’re not the one he rescued.”

  Katy let a deep sigh roll out of her chest. “I’ve just decided I want to start making an actual effort to befriend good guys. It’s the only way I’ll move on from Alexei, and I’m so sick and tired of being stuck in this rut. Not that I want to rush into anything and make anyone my rebound, of course, but I just have to make a start, you know? It feels like the step I have to take to turn a new page.”

  Cassie gazed at Katy for a long moment, chewing the last of her waffle, and then frowned. “And you think this David might be a good option for you? I thought he was my Prince Charming.” She gave Katy a pout, and Katy chuckled.

  “Well, you could have him, if you want. But birds of a feather flock together, right? He could have some interesting friends . . . ” She let her voice trail off suggestively, and Cassie grinned.

  “Either way,” Katy continued, “the first step is going to meet him—and it’s something we ought to do, regardless of anything else. We could invite him out for coffee as thanks.”

  Cassie sat up straighter in her chair and reached for Katy’s hand. “Well, I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to get past that douchebag Alexei. And okay. If you can hook us up with a date, we’ll go together.”

  Katy beamed, a surprisingly strong spike of excitement rising in her chest. It made her realize she really must have been starved of any sort of decent male company for quite a while, if just the prospect of a coffee outing with this stranger was lifting her spirits so high. “I’ll try to swing by the house later on today and invite him in person, or at least get his number from someone.”

  Then a quick glance at the clock told her it was almost nine a.m., bringing her back to reality. She couldn’t sit around chatting for much longer. Cassie might have a killer hangover to recover from, but Katy couldn’t afford to avoid her homework, especially now that she’d decided on her major (or concentration, as they called it at Harvard).

  “Ugh, yes,” Cassie said, her posture drooping again as she rubbed her forehead. “I’m sooo behind on my coursework. Professor Lain will probably have me expelled if I’m late on another assignment.”

  “I’m doing okay with biology, I think,” Katy replied. “Stats too. It’s linguistics that I’m behind on. And once I go down the comparative lit path, I’m going to have a ton more reading to do each week.”

  “Comparative lit?” Cassie asked, frowning. “You’ve decided on that for sure?”

  Katy nodded. “For sure.”

  Cassie pushed her empty plate away from her and rubbed her temples. “I think it suits you. Your nose is always stuck in a book, anyway. I still haven’t decided mine for sure. I’m leaning pretty hard toward psychology, though.”

  “Why psychology?” Katy asked.

  This was the first time they had broached the topic of their concentrations in a while. Katy had deliberately avoided the subject since they’d arrived at Harvard because Cassie had been so stressed by the workload, and she hadn’t wanted to add more pressure by reminding her cousin of their impending decision. Now, however, she was curious.

  “I love the idea of dissecting people’s minds,” Cassie replied, a tad absently, continuing to massage her head with one hand while she rested the other over her bloated stomach.

  “I like that too,” Katy said after a moment of thought. “Though I guess I prefer to accomplish it through fiction and theater. I’d live a thousand different lives if I could. It’s the thing I love most about reading.” She let out a wistful sigh, then took a final bite from her apple. “Anyway, I’d better get moving.”

  She rose to her feet, aiming her apple core at the trashcan.

  “Oh, my class schedule!” Cassie blurted. “I left it in my purse. Wait, where is my purse?” Her eyes bugged in alarm.

  Katy smiled. “Relax. Your Prince Charming took care of that, too.” She padded out to the hall table, where Michelle had left the purse last night, and returned with the bag in hand. She unzipped it to fish out the schedule.

  “Oh wait!” Cassie exclaimed. She was out of her seat and at Katy’s side so fast it was as though her hangover had evaporat
ed. The purse slipped from Katy’s hands as Cassie snatched it.

  Katy stared at her cousin, startled. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing.” Cassie shuffled back to the table. “I just remembered something.”

  Katy frowned, confused, and approached the girl as she pressed the purse to her lap. “Remembered what?”

  “It’s nothing important really. Just—” Cassie suddenly retched, her body hunkering over. Vomit gushed from her mouth, soaking the table and a pile of Katy’s books.

  “Ugh . . . I’m . . . so . . . sorry,” she wheezed, tucking her purse beneath one arm.

  Katy grabbed the trashcan and rushed over to help the poor girl as she emptied more of her stomach onto the sodden tablecloth. Clearly, the abrupt movement hadn’t been good for her. Katy stood there, holding Cassie’s hair back and rubbing her back until she calmed, though she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that Cassie seemed to be hiding. Or perhaps she was just being paranoid.

  7

  David

  David stood next to his desk in the exam room, rolling his neck. He’d just turned in his test, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand, he had been more prepared for it than he had expected to be, given the weekend’s events, but on the other, it had still been a stiff challenge. For now, he was just glad it was over.

  He packed up his things and made for the exit, weaving around students who had yet to finish the test. He had managed to make it almost to the door when his professor intercepted him.

  “Professor Bell?” David whispered, staring at the wiry, sixty-something-year-old man.

  “Would you please go wait in my office?” the older gentleman asked quietly. “I would like to have a word. You’ll find the door unlocked, and the exam is almost over, so I’ll join you shortly.”