Upsy Daisy: A First Love College Romance

by Smartypants Romance

  That might’ve been the most incendiary thing he’d said yet.

  “You can’t honestly be one of those kinds of people.” I sniffed. I kept my face impressively straight, showing I could give as good as I get.

  “Beg your pardon?” he replied, genuinely confused.

  “Twin pops are two popsicles, not one. And if you’re the type of person that can’t do basic math . . .” Injecting my tone with a hint Mrs. Dot’s, I finished him off with, “Maybe you ain’t mentor material.”

  I saw the spark of recognition in those deep brown eyes and realized that his jaw ticked when he was trying hide his grin.

  He placed his hand over his heart, leveling me with an earnest gaze that made my heart beat double time.

  “I’m sure my beloved Mrs. Dot would agree with me, culinary expert that she is, that it’s a twin pop, singular, with a single wrapper.” His voice turned solemn and a little rough. “Daisy, I’ll be the best mentor. I want to teach you everything. I want this to be good for you.”

  I felt a shiver down my spine, looked away quickly, and nodded my head.

  It was going to be a long semester.

  Trevor and I visited a handful more destinations around campus before deciding to call it quits in front of The Wall, Fisk’s unofficial gathering place for students, and split for the day. I needed to head back to my dorm to start getting ready for the rescheduled mixer that, to my surprise—and if I was honest—delight, Trevor mentioned he would be attending.

  “But only for the beginning. Jules and I will do our introduction as Student Body President and Vice President, talk a little about the position of freshman class president ,and then we’re going to get out of there. I mean, it’s not like we’d actually party with freshman.” He pulled an exaggerated face and rolled his eyes. He reached over and playfully swiped his thumb across my nose.

  It happened so fast that I was sure I’d imagined it, if not for the heat rushing to my face and the semi-embarrassed look on his.

  Before our goodbyes could turn awkward I heard a voice calling my name and turned to see James exiting Spence Hall, followed by Julian just a few paces behind.

  Trevor spoke so highly of his cousin and best friend that I was looking forward to meeting the person behind the pretty face.

  I gave James a glare as she approached as a warning not to pull any of the funny business she tried at church.

  James gave Trevor a quick nod in greeting and he smiled and nodded in return.

  By way of introduction, Trevor affected a long-suffering sigh and said, “I’m sure Julian will do a more-than-adequate job of listing his many accomplishments, accolades, and laudable traits during tonight’s festivities, but I’ll spare you now. His most important accomplishment is being my best friend.”

  Julian scoffed.

  Trevor winked at me, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling.

  Julian, on the other hand, looked truly put out as James dipped her head to hide her smile.

  “Daisy and James, this is Jules.”

  “Thank you for that glowing introduction,” Jules said dryly, extending his hand to me and then to James.

  Jules squinted at James as if he was examining her and then said, “Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are for a dark-skinned girl?”

  James eyes flashed with anger so quick I almost missed it. She dropped his hand and her face briefly. When she raised her head again, her expression had been wiped clean.

  I looked at Trevor agog.

  Trevor looked at Jules agog.

  Julian looked at James as if he expected her to kneel at his feet and kiss his hand for that backhanded compliment hanging there like a rotting fish.

  “Interesting,” James replied, not sounding the least bit interested—and pointedly not saying thank you.

  She gave Julian her back, turned to me and said, “Daisy, you ready to get out of here?”

  “Past ready.”

  Trevor was still looking at Julian like he’d sprouted horns. Which would’ve been appropriate.

  Julian, not content to make an ass of himself only once in a day, began talking again. “The proper thing to do when given a compliment by a man is to say thank you.”

  He looked to Trevor for back-up. Trevor’s expression was vacillating between frowning and bewilderment so quickly it would’ve been funny if . . . well if the situation was even a little funny.

  I shot him a look that said, Get your crazy ass best friend before I hurt him.

  James turned back to examine Julian, her head cocked. “When I receive a compliment from a man, I’ll respond accordingly.”

  Julian rocked back on his heels, eyebrows high on that sinister pretty face. I got the feeling that he hadn’t been dressed down by many—maybe any—girls.

  “Trevor, Daisy. I’ll be on my way now. Whatever you name was . . .”

  Julian’s eyebrows shot up even higher.

  “Pleasure was yours, I’m sure.”

  Julian laughed, harshly. “Whatever my name is? I’m Julian P. Marshall.”

  He was clearly trying to regain control after James’s dismissal and it was a bit pathetic. He affected an overly bored tone. “But of course freshman don’t know anyone. I’m Student Body President. I’d suggest you ask about me,” he said, waving dismissively in my general direction.

  This guy was an asshole. How could Trevor be friends with him?

  James spoke in her usual staccato tempo but mimicked Julian’s bored intonation, when she replied, “I’d ask about you, Mr. Marshall, but I'm sure that tale would be short.” She looked down at his groin pointedly. “And unsatisfying.”

  Julian’s face turned beet red.

  With that final barb finding its mark, James turned to me. “Daisy, if you’re staying, then I’m going to head out by myself.”

  “Oh no, I’ll go with you,” I said emphatically and looped arms with my friend. We headed out without another word.

  Julian couldn’t resist a parting shot though. “Goodbye, gorgeous,” he called as we walked toward our dorm.

  James paused mid-stride, lifted her head higher, and straightened her shoulders before continuing on without acknowledging that he’d even said a word.

  Chapter Nine

  Trevor

  I watched as Daisy and James sashayed their fine asses away and took a deep, calming, pointless breath before I rounded on my friend.

  “What the hell?” we exploded at the same time.

  Okay. Not what I was expecting.

  Why the hell was Julian mad? He’d started this.

  A boy walking out of Spence looked up startled at our explosion, registered the two of us, turned, and walked in the other direction.

  “Not here,” Jules said gruffly.

  I could see him running the same calculation through his head that was running in mine.

  We had a little over an hour before the mixer was supposed to start. We didn’t have time to go home, and we couldn’t do this in public—our arguments were Hamilton-Madison level of debate. Our office atop the third floor of Spence was not ideal; we could be overheard if we weren’t careful, but it was our only real option. Besides, most upperclassmen weren’t back yet. Hopefully the other offices would be empty.

  We walked circumspectly into the building. We were, after all, student leaders. Once inside our space, Jules closed the door and collapsed into the club chair, legs draped over the arms like the weight of the world was upon him.

  He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling, not saying a word, which was fine by me.

  I gave him a minute to collect his thoughts. In truth, I needed a minute to collect my own.

  I am an easygoing person by nature. I’d much rather be debating the nature of twin pops than confronting my friends.

  But there was something about a body that you’ve shared a room with and a home with, Christmases and Easters and everything in between for years and years with, that could drive you to levels of anger you wouldn’
t have thought possible.

  Be a leader. Do not give in to your anger.

  To keep myself from doing so, I surveyed the work that Jules had completed since I’d been away at my work-study assisting Dr. Gwinn and then with Daisy.

  Our office was small—cramped, really—as it had come stuffed to the gills with furniture. A small conference table was crammed into the far end for cabinet meetings and two smallish writing desks with chairs were right near the doors. There was window seat to my left and the club chair which Julian was currently occupying to my right.

  Jules had hung a framed print of one of our campaign posters on the back of the door. On the corner of his desk I saw a small, folded piece of yellow circle that I knew was from Felicity, Julian’s ex-girlfriend’s six-year-old sister who was in love with Julian.

  It was cute and it was terrible.

  When the girl had found out he was running she’d sent him a handmade “Jules Marshall for President” button. Jules had worn it everywhere.

  And when Julian and Francine had broken up at the end of last semester they’d both been unaffected, but Felicity had wailed that Julian was supposed to be her brother. She’d taken it so hard that even though they weren’t a couple, Frannie still routinely phoned us over the summer so that Jules and Felicity could chat.

  It was off-putting; it was puzzling. Julian could be an asshole, but he was nearly always respectful. I shook my head again trying to tamp down the rising anger I felt when I thought of what he’d said.

  I focused on a previously empty bookshelf and I saw that Julian had already began to unpack our books. Roberts Rules of Order, The Student Code of Conduct, and The President’s Book were in the center of the bookcase. They were flanked by two bookends: a tall letter T on one end and a letter J on the other. I saw Jules’ favorite books filed neatly behind the letter J. On the other end there was space behind the T, waiting for me to fill the shelf with my math and finance books.

  A placed reserved for me. Always looking out for me.

  I didn’t even know he’d purchased those.

  I sighed. Julian Marshall was indeed a study in contrasts. Big heart, big ego.

  I wandered to the window overlooking the sidewalk where we’d just stood and tried to sift through my emotions rationally.

  I wasn’t trying to fight with Jules on this otherwise lovely day.

  Daisy’s sweet face popped unbidden into my mind and I allowed myself a moment to recall the way she raised her eyebrows and scrunched her nose when she disbelieved something I said. The way her brown hair had changed in the sun, the surprise I’d felt when I noticed some strands of copper and red, while unlit, her hair looked almost black. I felt protective of this information, of this revelation of the beautiful secret her hair carried. I felt like it was mine.

  I wanted to know all her secrets. I wanted to know everything that would make her smile.

  “You're smiling like you have a secret,” Jules said, cutting through my memories.

  I needed to deal with Julian’s pigheadedness, but I stalled, trying to find a path that wouldn’t lead to us both blowing up.

  It was rare that we both went full throttle because the result was unpleasant.

  But Jules was gonna apologize to Daisy.

  And to the person he'd actually offended.

  Right!

  He was certainly going to apologize to James.

  I turned from the window, looked my best friend in the eye, and what I saw looking back at me took me by surprise.

  Underneath Julian’s anger was hurt, clear as day.

  And then fear gripped me, cold and clammy. Julian had a way of finding out information about anyone and everyone.

  Impossible. He doesn’t know. He can’t know.

  “When did you get back?” I asked cautiously.

  “A little while ago.”

  I exhaled a little, but it was short lived.

  “Just long enough to hear that my best friend has been cavorting around campus with some freshman girl. The Trevor Boone I know is a good guy and would never do that. We’re not those guys that prey on new arrivals—we’re disgusted by those guys. We blackball them from our social settings, we warn girls off them.”

  Fuck! He knew.

  He took a deep breath and said, “And then there’s my cousin—”

  Elodie.

  El and I had always been close, even before her parents died. Growing up she was the harmonic force that Julian and I needed to keep from killing one another sometimes, but after she’d lost her parents ,she and I acquired an unbreakable bond forged through a shared understanding of loss and abandonment, displacement and discontent.

  I loved her like she was my own sister. And I wanted what was best for her. I would do anything to protect her, which was why I’d offered to pretend to be her boyfriend in the first place. I hadn’t seen it as a hardship. If anything, it had been beneficial to me. I was too broke to date anyone and having a girlfriend gave me the cover I needed to never have to answer for my finances. And I was a double major, staying attachment free left me free to focus all my energy on my schooling.

  Everything had been so uncomplicated.

  Until Daisy.

  I cut him off. “That’s complicated and you know it.” Julian had done an admirable job of trying to mind his business considering Elodie wasn't just his maternal cousin, she was his other best friend. With the exception of one tightly held secret, the two them were as close as close could be. They even resembled one another.

  He raised his eyebrows at me and said, “You’re right. The less I know about you and Elodie’s relationship, the better off I am. Probably,” his tone was exasperated, “because God knows I don’t understand it.”

  It wasn’t the first time Jules had expressed bafflement about the peculiar mechanics of my relationship with Elodie. He thought it peculiar that we “broke up” every summer and allowed one another “freedom to explore.” Elodie's words. He knew my rebuttal would be that Elodie wasn’t back at school, so we weren’t technically back together. He and I were smart enough to know that my excuse was bullshit, or at least it would’ve been if Elodie and I were a real couple.

  Right on cue he spoke. “I think we can both agree that it’s mighty big of me to even be willing to put that aside.”

  I nodded my agreement.

  “Right now I’m so fucking angry at you, Trevor, I’m liable to do something rash.”

  “Dr. Gwinn asked me to be her mentor,” I said weakly.

  “Is that what I saw on the sidewalk just now? You mentoring her? Because the way you were playing with her face didn’t look like something a mentor should be doing.”

  He was right to be pissed. He was right to hold me accountable; it’s what we did for each other. Growing up we’d seen too many of our schoolmates surround themselves with folks that would only tell them what they wanted to hear. And when we got to college it was even worse; too many friendships where guys only encouraged one another to act on their worst instincts, particularly when it came to women. Julian was right to call me out. I’d absorb his anger, but for that same reason I couldn’t absolve his behavior, because no matter what I did, Jules’ comment had been way out of line.

  “Jules, you may want to apply some of that righteous indignation to yourself,” I said quietly. “I want you to publicly apologize to James tonight.”

  He bristled. “I’m not apologizing.” His voice was dead calm and flat, and I knew he was well and truly pissed.

  Too bad.

  “You are too smart to buy into that bullshit your family has spouted our entire lives, Julian.” My voice rose with each word.

  Worry had me losing it a little because I was devastated by what he’d said but not as surprised as I should’ve been. Growing up Jules’ family had been . . . weird about skin color. They didn’t prefer white folks; they just didn’t like their Black folks too black. I was already too dark by their standards so they didn’t bother with me much, but keeping Jules fr
om getting a tan had been a borderline obsession for his mother and grandmother. He hadn’t been allowed to swim in their outdoor pool because his mother was afraid the combination of the chlorine and sun would “blacken him up.”

  Jules was light—light enough that you could see his blush, light enough that the dark brown and white freckles splashed across his face were highly visible. Yet still they’d lose their minds over the slightest change in his coloring. He’d actually had to stand up and be inspected anytime we came from playing outdoors, and if they felt he was getting too dark, we’d be indoors for a few days.

  Jules had seemed as dismayed and annoyed by his parent’s antics growing up but I’d never heard him repeat their craziness.

  Until now.

  I squinted at Jules as he squinted back at me.

  The faces of the girls Jules had dated over the years from grade school on popped into my mind. Always very thin, always straight hair, always as pale or paler than him.

  How could I have been so blind? Jules had been dating the same girl.

  He looked uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot, and I realized he’d been expecting me to refute his denial but the moment was much bigger and scarier because if my best friend was truly color struck . . . then where did that leave us?

  All I could bring myself to say was, “Why?” It was harsh, torn from me in fear and anger.

  “I didn’t say anything wrong to her. I just stated a fact. She is dark-skinned.” Adding quietly after the fact, “She is gorgeous.” Fists balled at his sides like he wanted to fight the notion.

  Julian mistook my question when in fact it was about something so much bigger.

  He looked so uncomfortable with the notion that James could be both dark-skinned and pretty, as if there was something innately wrong with it, that my frustration boiled over.

  “Jules, you can’t possibly believe that crock of shit your parents spout about light skin being better!”

  “I never said anything about anyone being better than anyone else!” he hollered, defensive.

  “You didn’t have to say it, Julian, it was implied. Do you even hear yourself right now? You sound like a bigot! Mary Washington, Katherine Hale, Persephone Shaw, Francine Deveroe . . . they all look mighty similar,” I countered, naming his past girlfriends.