“You’re making a mistake.”
“Listen, Jack.” Alice rolled her eyes. “Your objections have been duly noted. But right now I like Peter, he makes me feel good, and I want to feel good. I need to. So I’ll keep dating him. If or when he does something I don’t like, I’ll stop. End of story.”
“Are you going to sleep with him?”
“What if I am?”
“He’ll just use you.”
“Why?” She pursed her lips. “You think it’s impossible for a guy to want to date me for more than a few months?”
“A few months?” Jack laughed. “With Peter, you’ll be lucky if it turns into a few weeks before he moves on to someone else. If he’s not already seeing some other girl on the side. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“And why can’t he be different for me?”
“Guys like him just aren’t.”
“You mean guys like you!” Alice splayed her arms to her sides. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
“Why?”
“You sleep your way around campus and now you’re bashing Peter for his low moral standards?”
“I’m just warning you.” Jack wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. “If you want to make a fool of yourself, be my guest.”
“You know what? Go to hell.” Alice’s eyes became watery and her lower lip trembled as she repeated, “You just go to hell.”
She stormed away, not looking back, and Jack was too mad to run after her. He walked in the opposite direction, heading to a different café.
What was happening to him? Alice was right. He was in no position to judge Peter; their attitude toward girls was the same. Ice should steer clear of them both. Imagining her in bed with Peter made Jack see red. If Alice wasn’t going to listen to him, he’d have to distract Peter from her. Yeah, find a hot girl for his friend and have him forget Ice for good. It was all in her best interest. He’d be doing her a favor.
Eleven
Alice
After their argument on Monday, Alice tried to give Jack the haughty silent treatment. It didn’t work; Jack didn’t let her go a day not talking to him. At their next shared lesson, he switched on the charm and soon he had her bent in two laughing her head off. After softening her up, he apologized and said he shouldn’t be meddling in her love life. Jack explained he had seen many girls hurt by Peter, and that he was simply worried about her. But he understood she was a big girl and that she could make her own decisions. He was just a concerned friend.
Just. A. Friend. Words Alice officially hated.
How could three simple words send her emotions spiraling?
Alice had to get him out of her head. She’d been obsessing about Jack since freshman year; it was about time she accepted they weren’t going to happen as a couple. He’d made it perfectly clear he wasn’t interested. All that crap about not wanting to ruin their friendship was just that: crap. If a guy, especially one with Jack’s sex drive, was interested, it was impossible to be that rational. To have the amount of self-control he’d shown her when she offered herself up on a silver platter. He simply didn’t like her, not in the way she wanted him to. She should’ve known from that first humiliating time he’d made it stark clear he’d never look at her any other way.
***
Alice had spent the entire Saturday afternoon choosing an outfit that would send the message: you want to spend the rest of your life with me, but I’m not trying too hard. It was a difficult one to pull off, especially if she added the keep-me-warm-in-winter requirement. It the end, she’d opted for a homey-sexy look as opposed to outright-sexy: uber-tight jeans, ankle boots, and a cream sweater that hugged her curves in all the right places.
She still couldn’t believe Jack had finally asked her to go on a real date with him. “Dinner tomorrow night, deal?” he’d asked her the day before at the end of class. It hadn’t been a declaration of undying love, but it was an improvement from meeting up for coffee or going to the library to study. Dinner on a Saturday night meant serious business.
Alice entered the restaurant with a pounding heart and flushed cheeks—reddened not just by the sudden warmth of the place, but by who was waiting for her inside. She spotted Jack sitting in a high-backed booth, half hidden by the booth in front of him. From the entrance, Alice could only see his right side. He was reading a menu.
As if he felt her looking at him, he lifted his gaze and they locked eyes. Alice’s world tilted. Hers wasn’t a simple crush; she had fallen head-over-heels for Jack. He got up, flashing a wild grin, and walked toward her. As he hugged her hello, Alice inhaled his scent—a mix of his shaving gel and his natural odor—and her stomach exploded with butterflies.
“You came alone?” Jack asked.
He seemed surprised.
“Yeah?”
She followed Jack back to the booth only to see a pretty girl already occupying the seat closest to the wall.
“Ice, this is Olivia.” Jack made the introductions. “Olivia, meet Alice.”
Olivia? HAS HE ASKED ME OUT TO INTRODUCE ME TO HIS GIRLFRIEND? Alice screamed inside her head. No! This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t happen.
It could, and it was.
Alice watched the girl get up as if in slow motion. Her bubble of happiness had transformed in a water bubble that slowed everything down and made voices sound deep and distorted.
In her slow motion voice, Olivia said, “Noooice tooo meeeet yoooouuu.” She extended a manicured hand.
Muscle-memory made Alice stretch out her arm and take Olivia’s hand. Her lips froze in a polite expression—one she hoped didn’t look too strained—as she willed herself to sit opposite the happy couple. She prayed she wouldn’t start crying in front of them, although angry tears were already welling in her eyes.
Alice dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “Gosh, it was windy outside,” she said to explain the gesture.
“We were thinking of catching a movie later,” Jack said.
At least this torture session would be short-lived. Alice calculated how long her agony would last. It was a few minutes past seven. Surely, they’d want to catch the eight-thirty show, nine at the latest. The walk to the movie theater took fifteen minutes, plus ten to get the tickets… They had to leave in an hour, an hour and a half tops. She could survive sixty minutes of this. She didn’t have another choice.
“Do you have any plans for later?” Jack asked.
Alice’s plan had been to spend the night in Jack’s arms making love to him for the first time.
“Plans?” You mean besides crying myself to death? “I have a… um… sorority meeting.”
“They make you meet on a Saturday?” Olivia—the nosy bitch—asked.
“It isn’t an official meeting, just first year pledges getting together and hanging out.”
“It must be nice to be part of a group.” Olivia’s over polite smile seemed to imply, “See? This is my little group here: Jack and me.”
Olivia had possessively linked her arm with Jack’s; she was so irritating, Alice felt a swell of anger, envy, and, possibly even, a tiny surge of hatred. She had a mental vision of grabbing the ketchup and mustard bottles—one with each hand—and squeezing them in Olivia’s face until they were both empty. As unrealizable as the fantasy was, it gave Alice the strength to endure the next hour.
***
Olivia, like many others after her, had been but a short footnote in Jack’s life. Instead, Jack’s newfound attitude of acting as if Peter didn’t exist stuck around a lot longer. Alice didn’t know what to make of this new approach, but she preferred it to the insistent nagging that had preceded it. Jack constantly telling her how a guy like Peter could never fall for her, to Alice translated as Jack telling her how he would never fall for her.
Dating someone else had always been the best way to avoid thinking about Jack not liking her, or Jack’s new girl-of-the-moment. Maybe Pe
ter wasn’t the wisest distraction of choice, but he was good-looking, charming, and so far he’d treated her with nothing but respect. True, he had a reputation. So what? Alice was just looking for a fun pastime to avoid brooding over Jack. She wasn’t going to get hurt; she could handle Peter. And if he dumped her, she’d deal with it. Just as she’d dealt with Ethan breaking up with her. Or, more to the point, telling her she’d never been his girlfriend in the first place and that he didn’t want to have casual, meaningless sex with her anymore. Good times…
Besides, Peter’s flirty texts were the only highlight in her otherwise bleak routine. She’d started to look forward to the little red circle with a white number appearing over her WhatsApp icon. They hadn’t managed to meet again after their date on Sunday, as both their schedules were packed: classes, his practices, her sorority commitments. Their few free moments did not overlap, but they chatted a lot through texts, and by the time Saturday rolled around, Alice couldn’t wait for their dinner the next day. Peter had promised to cook for her, and she was fascinated. Not many college kids had kitchen skills beyond microwaving premade meals.
“Well,” Madison said as they entered Lavietes Pavilion with half an hour to spare before the game. “Harvard certainly doesn’t push the bling side of varsity sports”
“Why?” Alice asked.
Alice, Madison, and Haley took three seats close to the front. Peter had told her to come early, but they needn’t have worried. The stands were still half-empty.
“I watched a game at Notre Dame once, and it was like going to an NBA game,” Madison explained. “They had mega screens hanging from the ceiling, videos, music, cheerleaders… Their pavilion is like a real indoor stadium; this looks like a sorry high school gym.”
“I thought people only ever went to Notre Dame to watch football,” Haley said.
“Football season was over when I visited.”
“Why were you in Indiana, anyway?” Alice asked.
“My cousin from my mother’s side goes to school there. She’s not a Smithson, so she wasn’t destined to Harvard-then-Harvard-Law from birth.”
Madison’s family ran one of the top law firms in Boston. All Smithson kids were expected to graduate from Harvard Law School. Ethan was an alumnus, Georgiana was attending it now, and Madison would apply next year. Alice remembered how Ethan always complained about the suffocating expectations of his family.
“Is the Harvard team any good at basketball?” Alice asked.
Madison shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“Neither do I,” Haley said. “Anyway, we’re here for the tall, pretty boys, so who cares.”
“Speaking of, which tall, pretty boy are we concentrating our attention on today?” Madison asked.
“Peter, I think,” Alice said.
“So no Jack?” Madison insisted. “Are you suddenly over him?”
“No, I’m not.” Alice puffed her cheeks in exasperation. “But he made it clear I’m not his cup of tea. I thought that if—when—I told him how I felt about him, we’d have one of those Hollywood moments a la When Harry Met Sally. Unfortunately, I got more of a He’s Just Not That Into You.”
“But you didn’t really tell him how you feel,” Haley pointed out.
“Thank goodness for that!” Alice cringed at the thought. “At least it wasn’t a complete humiliation.”
Madison pouted. “Are you sure an ‘I’m madly in love with you’ speech wouldn’t have made a difference?”
“No difference, I’m sure.”
“What about Peter?” Haley asked. “You like him?”
“Yeah. He’s fun, charming, and he has pretty eyes.”
“Isn’t he a bit of a… mmm…” Haley let her words hang.
“Man-slut?” Alice supplied. No point in denying it. “Yeah, I think so. But I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now.”
“As long as you don’t get hurt,” Madison said.
“I don’t care about him enough to get hurt.”
A speaker announcing the two teams silenced Madison’s upcoming retort. They stopped talking about the boys and concentrated on ogling them.
“I know number 23.” Madison pointed at one of the players. “He’s in most of my English classes.”
Something in her friend’s tone of voice made Alice think Madison had a little crush on the guy.
Haley didn’t pick up the vibe. “He’s super cute,” she said. “What’s his name?”
“Scott,” Madison said sulkily.
Haley checked the Crimson website on her phone. “Number 23, Scott Williams. He’s a junior.”
“I told you he’s in my class.”
“Is he single?” Haley asked.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Relax!” Haley said. “What are you so touchy about?”
It was clear to Alice that Madison was getting territorial, but sometimes Haley could be completely blind to other people’s feelings.
“Look.” Haley pointed at the court. “He’s going for a shot.” They all followed the ball as Scott let it go and it flew over the court. “Goal!” Haley shouted, lifting her arms over her head.
“This isn’t soccer,” Madison snapped.
Haley poked her tongue at Madison and turned to Alice. “You should ask Peter to introduce us.”
“Sure,” Alice said, taking a mental note to never ever do so.
Madison scoffed, but Haley wasn’t looking at her and didn’t seem to hear. Then the referee blew the start whistle, and the three of them stopped talking and concentrated on the game.
Alice was no expert, but once the game was over, two facts were clear.
One: Peter was the team’s star.
And two: Jack had played like crap.
She looked at him now. Even if Harvard had won to McGill 66 to 63, it was clear Jack had a black temper. As if he felt her staring, he turned toward her. They locked eyes, and his frown deepened. Jack quickly looked away and disappeared into the locker room. Ah, hell, if he wanted to be a sour puss for having played one bad game… This was why she didn’t like sports much. Alice hated how a won or lost game—or badly played, in this case—could sway the mood of a person, or an entire city, or even a country. It was so stupid.
She caught Peter’s eye next. He shot her a grin; his mood couldn’t have been more different from Jack’s. Peter blew her a kiss and twirled his index finger in a “later” gesture that she knew meant tomorrow. He had been clear that game nights were reserved for the team. She gave him the thumbs-up and blew a kiss back. Peter waved and then focused his attention on an approaching reporter.
Twelve
Jack
Jack entered the locker room and flung his neck towel down onto a bench. He hurried in and out of the shower before any of his teammates were finished. When Peter eventually jogged into the locker room, Jack was already getting dressed.
The captain did his usual round of high fives and cheered with the rest of the team, then stopped next to Jack. “Sullivan, my man,” he said, giving Jack a pat on the shoulder. “It’ll go better next time, and we won anyway.”
Jack gave him a stiff nod, avoiding catching his eye. He was scared he might punch his friend otherwise. Peter’s words of condescension continued to ring in his ears, their implied meaning obvious. Did Peter expect Jack to thank him for saving the game? Fat chance of that. He’d never been jealous of Peter being the better player. Jack cared more about his academic achievements as far as his time at Harvard was concerned. Yet tonight, he was bitterly jealous of Peter’s raw talent. He was getting increasingly mad, and it was all Alice’s fault.
Jack finished getting dressed, packed his bag, and sat on a bench near his locker to wait for the others to catch up with him. When they were all showered and mostly dressed, Coach Morrison came in for his usual after-game speech. Jack’s shoulders slumped, and he prepared himself for another humiliating fifteen minutes.
A
s expected, praises for Peter were equaled only by admonishments toward Jack. Harsh, but—thanks to the final victory—brief. Peter had cut his rebuff short by winning the game almost single-handedly; it should have made Jack appreciate his captain. It only made him angrier.
After dinner, a few players decided to go for a nightcap somewhere nearby. Jack was tempted to say goodnight and go sulk in the privacy of his room, but then he noticed Peter join the group. A mean idea struck him. If Peter was going, so would Jack. All it took to end Peter’s so-called relationship with Ice was for the captain to go home with a pretty girl. Piece of cake! Peter always ended up sleeping with someone after a victory on the court.
They headed for a cheap beer in The Cambridge Queen’s Head, a low-key pub on campus. There were six of them in total, the best regular players. Scott and David Williams, two brothers on the team, went to order for everyone while the others secured a table. Jack was puzzled. It was rare for the two brothers to hang out together; they usually avoided each other. Besides blood ties, the two seemed to have little in common. Scott was warm and easygoing, David cold and detached. Jack was pretty sure they hated each other. He shook the thought away; the Williams brothers weren’t his focus right now.
Jack concentrated on the crowd in the pub. Being Saturday night, it was busy and packed with pretty girls. In fact, just as Scott and David returned with their beers, two blonde girls strolled by. One had her hair tied up in a high ponytail; she had a cute smile and big eyes. Pretty. Yet her friend was more attractive with her long, straight hair and doll face.
“Did you guys all swallow a bottle of Skele-Gro as kids?” Ponytail asked, while her friend smiled with a flirtatious twinkle in her eyes.
Jack would’ve usually focused all his attention on the prettiest girl, but tonight he had a different agenda. He chatted up the ponytailed friend, completely ignoring Doll Face. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Doll Face’s temporary confusion at being overlooked. Then the girl shrugged and turned to talk to the other tall guy standing next to her: Peter.
Jack was only half-following his conversation with Ponytail. He was too busy trying to overhear snippets of what Peter was saying to Doll Face. She was exactly his type, much more than Alice was, especially with her new look.
Friend Zone (A New Adult College Romance) Page 6
