Contradictions

by Tiffany King

  The others grabbed a table while I went to the break room to check my schedule for the following week. Thankfully, Larry and Liz were completely understanding about my probation and tutoring. They agreed to cut my hours during the week, and I volunteered to work whenever they needed on the weekends. Liz was even nice enough to schedule me off for the memorial service. I had to work open to close tomorrow, but it was cool. The store was only open eleven to six on Sunday. My schedule for the following week looked similar with the exception of working until nine next Saturday.

  Between tutoring and working all weekend, I would be too busy for anything else, which was my intention all along.

  Leaving the break room, I headed back to my friends, who were in the process of giving one of my coworkers, Heather, their drink orders.

  “Hey, ho, you want your usual?” Heather asked, nudging me with her hip before I slid into the booth beside Derek.

  “Don’t be jealous, blow queen,” I said, making a gesture with my mouth like I was sucking on something.

  Everyone laughed and after a moment I joined in, even though it felt forced and a little phony. Still, for the first time in a week, I felt almost normal. Cameo looked satisfied, which didn’t escape my attention. I rolled my eyes, but didn’t comment.

  I turned my attention to Chad, who I hadn’t seen since last weekend. “How’s it going?” My question was fraught with double meaning.

  He shrugged before answering. “It pretty much sucks. The entire fraternity was dismantled, so most of us were left scrambling for available housing. MSC isn’t being very sympathetic. They’re the biggest bunch of douche-hypocrites ever. Even my dad is being a total prick. I remember when we were in high school, he used to brag to my brothers and me about all the shit he did in college. Suddenly, he’s a fucking saint and I’m the bad guy,” Chad complained, running his hand through his hair in aggravation.

  “You’re not being expelled, right?” Derek asked as Heather returned with our drinks and the platter of pastries we ordered.

  Chad shook his head. “Nah, just probation. None of us underclassmen got anything worse. It’s the seniors that got fucked. I know Dawson and Kevin both lost their scholarships. They both left yesterday.” The school basically blamed the upperclassmen for everything.

  Cameo, Derek, and I collectively gasped at the same time. This shit was real.

  “I didn’t know that,” Cameo said, picking the pecans off one of the croissants. “You only told me about Steve.”

  “What about Steve?” I asked, losing my appetite midbite.

  Cameo answered for Chad. “He was asked to leave on Thursday.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair. Why just Steve?”

  “He came forward and admitted the prank was his idea. The other brothers were mad. Their plan was to stay quiet and ride out the wave together. Steve went all kamikaze and took the fall for everyone.” Chad shook his head as he took a big bite from a strawberry-filled pastry.

  “Holy shit, that’s crazy. I bet Melissa is pretty torn up,” I said.

  “No shit. Supposedly, she threatened to break up with him if he went through with his plan,” Chad explained.

  “Can’t say I blame her,” Cameo stated.

  “What?” Derek sputtered, glaring across the table. “You can’t be serious. What about the whole stand-by-your-man thing?”

  “Like we live in nineteen sixty? Steve should have kept his mouth closed and eventually everything would have blown over.” Cameo’s answer surprised me. It was as if David’s death wasn’t important.

  “Someone died and you really thought it would just blow over? Come on, Cam, get real,” Derek argued.

  Disgusted by Cameo’s attitude, I focused on my pastry that I had slowly but methodically mutilated. Would my attitude be the same as Cameo’s if I hadn’t gone with Melissa and met David that night? I wish I could believe otherwise, but truthfully, I didn’t know.

  The topic of conversation switched after that before things got too heated, but everyone was pretty much done, so we left. When we got home, Cameo didn’t bother to ask if I wanted to go out with her, so I guessed that meant the truce was over. Derek opted to stay home with me. Cameo didn’t hang around long, and once she left, most of the tension that had cloaked our apartment during the last week evaporated.

  I sank down into the sofa where Derek joined me with a couple of Cokes he had grabbed from the fridge. “I really don’t get Cameo right now,” he said, sitting next to me.

  I wasn’t sure how to handle his remark. Obviously, he was talking about their semi-heated exchange earlier, but I couldn’t be sure anything I said wouldn’t get back to her ears. “I think everyone is still just trying to figure out how to deal with what happened.”

  “I get that, but thinking everyone should keep their mouths shut so someone’s death will just blow over? That’s kind of fucked-up. It’s like she doesn’t even believe anyone is responsible.”

  “Yeah, but who is responsible? Steve and the others at the fraternity are taking the fall, but isn’t everyone that participated responsible? What about the ones like us who watched it happen? Hell, we all encourage hazing.” I sounded more mature than I think I had ever sounded in my life. The guilt I had been suffering with was burning on the tip of my tongue.

  “I guess. The hazing parties do get pretty out of control, obviously. Maybe that’s Cam’s problem. Maybe she feels guilty. It doesn’t seem like it, but who knows.”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem. She won’t take me seriously when I try to tell her my feelings. After David’s death, the idea of partying every night just seems pointless to me. And all she wants to do is tell me I’m being dramatic.”

  I’m sure I sounded crazy to Derek, but I was trying to make him understand the way I’d hoped Cameo would. Maybe he would run and tell her as soon as my back was turned, but I didn’t care anymore. Eventually, Cameo would learn to adjust to the new me, or she could take a flying leap for all I cared. Or so I told myself.

  Derek could tell I was over it and let the subject drop. He suggested a game of poker. I readily agreed. Anything to pass the time. Maybe then I wouldn’t dwell on the fact that I was spending another weekend night at home. Derek made a few calls, rounding up a couple more players.

  The night turned out to be more fun than I would have ever thought. Adam and Tim, who joined us, had been dating for years. The way they talked to each other reminded me of my parents. Adam was over-the-top dramatic and terrible at poker. You could tell how good his hand was by the degree of gasp he let out each time the cards were dealt. Tim kept reminding him poker was a game of mystery and the goal was to try and fool the other players, but Adam couldn’t care less about deceiving anyone. Derek thought he had game, but I’d played cards with him enough times to know his tells. If he sat forward in his chair, his hand was good. If he leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world, he had a crappy hand. It was Tim who was harder to read. I lost thirty bucks to him before I finally figured out his particular weakness. Once I realized he would pat Adam’s knee when he was bluffing, I not only won back my money, but most of his also. It was ironic that I sucked so badly at math but I was a poker stud.

  “Damn, girl, you’re on fire,” Adam said as I added another pile of chips to my growing stacks.

  “Yeah, thanks so much for the heads-up, Derek,” Tim muttered, frowning at his cards.

  Derek laughed. “Don’t feel bad. Tressa always takes everyone to the cleaners.”

  “We can always play strip poker if you’re tired of losing money,” I joked.

  “Honey, I haven’t been to the gym in weeks, and the way you play, it sure as hell isn’t going to be you sitting here topless,” Adam laughed.

  I blew him a kiss. Derek watched me like a protective mother bird. He looked satisfied by the fun I was having.

  We ran out to get pizza and beer, which was my treat since I’d taken everyone’s money. When we got back with our goodies, we sat around talking
and joking. Adam and Tim were a lot of fun. It had been ages since I’d sat around shooting the shit with friends when we weren’t at some party. The last time I remember it happening was when Ashton and Brittni were in Woodfalls this past summer.

  Cameo returned home while we were hanging out. She staggered in looking more than a little tipsy. I felt guilty. We’d made a pact, and I’d left her high and dry by not going to the party. Chad walked in behind her, so at least she hadn’t walked home alone.

  Cameo tugged on his hand, leading him toward her room. He shot us a shit-eating grin before trailing behind her.

  “On that note, I think it’s time we call it a night,” Adam said, climbing off the couch. He gave me an exuberant hug before doing the same with Derek. Tim’s hug was more restrained, like he was afraid I’d get the wrong idea if he pulled me in too close. We made plans to hang out again after they chided Derek for hiding me away so long.

  “Don’t let her fool you. This is an all-new Tressa. Normally, she’d be hanging from the ceiling or trying to sled off the top of the roof,” Derek defended himself.

  They looked at me skeptically, convinced that Derek was messing with them.

  “He’s lying. I’m always mellow yellow,” I answered, looking at them demurely. I started laughing almost immediately. “Okay, so he’s right. I’m not exactly a princess, but I’m trying to buckle down a little.”

  11.

  Meet at my apartment.

  I swore under my breath when I looked at my phone. Trent had the texting skills of a baboon. No Hey, let’s meet at my apartment or Hey, I’m thinking we should do tutoring at my apartment tonight. Instead, he comes across like a caveman. It would serve him right if I didn’t show up, claiming I never got his text.

  In the end, his suggestion made sense, which was why I didn’t argue. The library had been unusually busy all week. I blamed the cold weather. There was still a week left in October, but it was already dipping close to single digits at night.

  I arrived fifteen minutes early and didn’t feel like waiting in my drafty Jeep. I made a point of checking to make sure Trent’s Nissan was in the parking lot before opening my door. It was one thing to walk in the frigid-ass temperatures. It was a whole other thing to stand outside freezing my nips off waiting on Trent. Spotting his car, I reached into my backseat and grabbed my bag before heading for his apartment.

  I knocked on his door, thankful I’d had the foresight to grab my gloves before heading out. I was preparing to knock again after he didn’t answer when the door suddenly swung open.

  My mild shock turned into downright slap-my-ass-and-call-me-Dixie surprise when I saw how he was dressed, or rather, undressed would be the more accurate description. He answered the door in nothing more than a towel, rendering me speechless.

  My mouth dropped open as I took in the very male sight before me. My suspicions about what lay beneath the endless array of geeky shirts he was so fond of wearing had now been verified. Although, even in my wildest of dreams, I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine this. Not that I had wild dreams about him. At least, not all the time.

  With the towel knotted around his waist, I had an up-close-and-personal view of his very defined, and—I loathed to admit—very lickable abs. I wasn’t even sure six-pack was the right word. Running my eyes down his naked torso, I was pretty sure I counted an eight-pack. Eight delicious abs that glistened with droplets of water from the shower he had just stepped out of. My mouth began to water at the sight of him, and I’m pretty sure I even swayed a little. I wanted to reach out to feel if his muscles were as firm as they looked. God, the things I could do to that chest, I thought.

  “Hey, you’re early,” he greeted me, using an extra towel to dry his hair. His words were like a torrent of cold water splashed on my face. I took an unsteady step backward. If he only knew how close I had come to reaching out and touching him. How could nerdy T-shirts and glasses hide that much hotness? That was the question. Hell, even his hair looked hot now that it was tousled from the towel dry he’d given it.

  I croaked out an answer that was a garbled mess. He looked at me like I’d just fallen off the drunken train. Trying again, I cleared my throat, hoping for something that sounded more coherent. “Too Jeep cold,” I mumbled, realizing as I said it that I had effed it up again.

  His look turned to puzzlement as he tried to make sense of my words. “Oh, sorry,” he finally said, stepping back so I could enter his warm apartment. “It’s cold outside,” he added, closing the door quickly behind me. I didn’t bother to correct him. Better for him to think it was the cold that had my tongue refusing to cooperate. Trent didn’t need any more encouragement.

  I skirted around him. Distance was my only ally at the moment.

  “How’d your test go yesterday?” he asked, oblivious to the fact that I was secretly wishing for his towel to drop.

  For the love of my horny sanity, could you please put on some clothes before I tear my panties off and jump on you? The words bounced around in my head like a rogue Ping-Pong ball. I was practically chanting them.

  “Sorry. I’ll go get dressed,” he said, giving me a strange look.

  No way, did I utter that out loud? Please for the love of horny bitches everywhere, tell me that was all in my head. Son of a bitch, I couldn’t remember. I was stuck in some hypnotizing dick trance.

  I needed to flee the scene while he was in his room getting dressed. That would be the only rational thing to do. Maybe I could tell him I was drunk. By the looks he’d been giving me, he probably assumed that already. I could go home and pretend this never happened. The mental image of his very bare chest floated through my dirty mind. My nether regions throbbed. That alone should have had me fleeing the apartment like it was on fire. Only it was me who was on fire. Damn it, Tressa. Get your mind out of the gutter.

  “Tressa, you okay?” Trent asked.

  I whirled around at the sound of my name. He was dressed, which was disappointing. No, wait. I was relieved. Definitely relieved. Holy monkey balls, my brain was officially broken.

  Now would be the opportune time to use the drunken excuse, or even that I was abducted by aliens. He was a man of science. He would definitely buy the alien story. “I’m fine, just trying to warm up,” I said, taking a deep breath. I was still feeling pretty hot and bothered, but that was for me to know.

  “Oh. Let me turn the heat up,” he offered.

  Little did he know he’d already done that.

  “I was working out earlier, so I kicked the heat down. I hate being hot while I’m lifting weights.”

  Too late for that. Seriously, I needed to be euthanized. My brain was a total traitor.

  “Right,” I muttered as I sat down. “I hate being hot too.” God, I still sounded like a blabbering idiot.

  “So, you never told me how the test went,” Trent said, sitting on the couch beside me.

  Normal. Be normal, I told myself. “I got an eighty-three,” I answered, grinning. I may have been currently thinking of ways to punish myself, but I was pleased I was able to retain enough statistics to help me pass my second makeup test of the week. I wasn’t killing it in the grades department, but thanks to Trent, at least I understood what I was doing.

  “Not bad. What were your issues?”

  “The usual. My brain refuses to accept any semblance of understanding when it comes to ratios. I’m pretty sure when God was creating that part of my brain, he was distracted. I’m guessing by a scantily dressed angel or something.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s sacrilegious to talk about God checking out angels.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I bet there are some pretty hot chicks up there wearing negligees.”

  “Ew, now that’s a mental picture of my grandmother I don’t need,” he said, shuddering.

  I patted his hand. “Every angel deserves a playdate,” I teased.

  He looked down at my hand. I realized my mistake the moment my skin touched his. The heat I�
��d felt moments earlier instantly crackled to life. I made a move to pull my hand back, but he stopped me before I could retreat.

  “Trent,” I warned, tugging on my hand without much conviction.

  “Go out with me.”

  “No,” I answered, tugging on my wrist again.

  “Why?”

  “I need to get my dog ready for her space mission,” I answered, grinning. This was not the first time we’d been through this in the last week. Not a tutoring session went by without Trent asking me out. I was getting pretty good at turning him down. Each excuse I threw out was more outrageous than the one the day before.

  “Your dog in space. Clever,” he said, smiling.

  “What can I tell you? She’s a diva space dog. She needs her entourage to go with her.”

  “They have strict protocols. You won’t be able to get in.”

  “I already got my clearance,” I deadpanned, looking down at my hand that was still clasped in his.

  “You can go out with me once she’s gone. You’ll need something to keep your mind off your dog being in space.”

  “I’ll be too sad to date. I will be mourning her absence by sitting in her doggie bed munching on her treats.”

  He looked at me pensively before giving up. “Fine, how’s your group assignment going?” he asked, dropping my hand as he shifted into all-business mode. I was used to his quick personality switches, but this time a feeling crept in that felt an awful lot like disappointment. For a moment, I wished I had accepted his invitation. During the last few days, I had discovered that with the exception of Derek, Trent was the easiest person to talk to that I knew. You had to get around his mega-geek lingo sometimes, but something about his voice made everything a little bit more interesting. Despite my denial, I was curious about what a date with him would entail. Now that I had gotten an eyeful of what lay beneath his clothes, that curiosity had morphed into something more like desire.

  Pulling my thoughts back on track, I answered his question, which turned into a long-winded rant. The group project was hell. That was the only way to describe it. Everyone naturally had their own ideas of how our fictional company should be run, but getting everyone to agree had turned into an act of futility. The project was due right before Halloween, which was one week away, but I couldn’t see us finishing in time if we couldn’t agree on anything.