Linden: Rocking Pleasure: New Adult College Romance (Coral Gables Series Book 3)

by Taylor, Drucie Anne

  “What would that be?” she asks, curious.

  “That on Saturday you won’t go on and on about how I absolutely have to see him again. Okay?”

  “Man, you know I can’t promise you that,” she whines.

  “I don’t care,” I say with determination. “Promise or I won’t tell you anything at all.”

  “Oh, Thally!”

  “I mean it. Promise me, Cami, or that applies to all of my future adventures.” Despite my words, I’m greatly amused by her struggle. It’s nice to be in a position of power for a change.

  She snorts. “Fine, I promise.”

  “Cross your heart and hope to die?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, cross my heart and all that,” she grumbles.

  I sit down on the bed laughing. “We’ll talk on Saturday.”

  “Yep. Bye, Thally.”

  “Bye-bye.” I hang up and sink back, closing my eyes and wondering what I’m going to wear tomorrow… The new dress should be fine for a simple dinner, since I don’t want to look as if I were trying to impress him—or seduce him. I just want to have a nice, relaxed evening.

  Yes, I think the powder-pink dress with the turquoise jacket will be perfect. Not too much. I’ll leave my hair down and wear my black sandals.

  When that decision is made, I fetch my backpack and delve back into my class notes. I really hope I won’t have another blackout during the next test. Or else I might scream bloody murder in the lecture hall.

  Chapter 5

  Friday evening, I’m ready and presentable, but I’m also terribly frustrated, because the heel of one of my sandals fell off. I decide I’m going to buy more expensive shoes from now on and skip the sale items.

  I rummage around my closet for another pair of shoes, but none of them matches the outfit like the sandals would have.

  “Draven!” I call, already on the way to his room. I knock on his door.

  “Come in.”

  I rush in and give him a pleading look. “Do you have super glue or something like that?”

  He gets up from his bed and grabs a small tube from his desk. “I have this. It’s pretty strong. What do you need it for?”

  I show him the major catastrophe that is my broken shoe. “Do you think that will work?”

  He takes a closer look. “Yeah, this stuff should be strong enough.” He takes my sandal and its broken heel, and sits down at his desk. A few seconds later, I can smell the sharp odor of the glue. The smell makes my head ache, so I stand by the open window and breathe in the crisp night air.

  “Make sure to let it dry a few minutes before you try on the shoe,” he says, rising.

  “Okay.” I look down at the front of my dress. “How do I look?” I ask, not sure how I want to look. I’ve put my hair in a bun instead of leaving it down, but I’m wearing the outfit I decided on yesterday.

  “Hot,” Draven says. “If anyone doesn’t think so, they’re probably blind.”

  “Craptastic.”

  “Why? Don’t you want to look hot?”

  “No, I want to look like a good girl,” I admit, blushing.

  “Are you going on a date?” he asks.

  “Not exactly. It’s just dinner,” I explain.

  “With a man?”

  I nod.

  “So then why don’t you want to look hot?”

  I shake my head. “Because it’s not as if this will be going anywhere. This guy invited me to dinner to thank me for getting him to the hospital. That’s it.”

  “Uh, if you don’t want to look hot, why did you put on this illegally short dress?”

  “Because it’s cute,” I say with a sheepish smile.

  Draven grins. “So just turn the guy’s head and enjoy the body God has given you.”

  One of my eyebrows shoots up. “Are you telling me to masturbate?”

  Draven breaks into laughter. “No. I’m saying you should enjoy your ability to pull off a dress like that and your ability to drive men crazy with your looks.”

  Oh. Another awkward instance of the words leaving my mouth before the thoughts were able to catch up. “Oh, that.” I giggle. “I guess all I need to remember is to leave it on, right?”

  “That’s your decision. You really look cute … and hot.”

  I grab my shoe and smile at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He nods. “Have a good time and let me know how he liked your outfit.”

  “Will do. Oh, and could you change the lightbulb in the walk-in closet? I’ve already asked Nate twice, but he seems to keep forgetting.”

  “Tomorrow morning, okay? I have to get ready now, too. I have a gig with the guys.”

  “Where?”

  “Dizzles.”

  Dizzles is a club that often has local bands play live and sometimes groups of music students. “Too bad I can’t be there,” I say regretfully. “I’d like to hear you play.”

  He shrugs. “Next time.”

  “Definitely. Just let me know in advance next time.” Leaving his room, I head back to mine. Impatient as I am, I test the heels with my fingers. The broken one doesn’t budge, so I cautiously put on the shoes. The glue must be really strong, but I decide to walk on the balls of my feet anyway. After all, I don’t want to slip or twist my ankle in front of Linden Priest.

  And then, it’s eight p.m.—the door bell rings.

  “Right on time,” I murmur, grabbing my purse. When I walk into the hallway, Draven is already at the intercom.

  “Miss Leroux will be down in a minute,” he says and turns around to look at me. “A Mr. Vanderworth is at the door. He says he’s here to pick you up.”

  “I know. See you.” With a regal smile, I walk through the door. As I descend the stairs, my sandals make me think of Cinderella, and my stomach does somersaults. I’m anxious, wondering what the evening holds in store.

  “Good evening, Miss Leroux,” the man outside says when I emerge from the building. “My name is Grayston Vanderworth, and I will be your driver tonight.”

  I hold out my hand, but he ignores it and opens the door to the black limousine for me instead. “Thank you, Mr. Vanderworth.”

  “Oh, please call me Grayston.”

  I nod at him and get into the backseat. I don’t know if it’s normal that I feel completely foolish right now. My father has his own chauffeur, too, so he can start his workday in the morning commute. But I’ve always felt uncomfortable riding with Josh, which I did most of my high school days.

  Grayston gets in and starts the engine. He’s probably just as taciturn as Josh, so I assume the drive will be boring and quiet. Suddenly I hear the beeping of a phone.

  “Priest.” Linden’s voice fills the car.

  “Mr. Priest, I just picked up Miss Leroux and we are now on our way to your house, as you instructed.”

  My eyebrow travels up very slowly. I can’t help thinking it exceedingly strange that Grayston called Linden to tell him we’re on our way. Where else would we be?

  “Thank you, Grayston. Please call me again when you’ve reached the grounds.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Priest.”

  I’m left confused by this conversation, so I pull my own phone from my purse and text Cami:

  This chauffeur is making me nervous. He just called Linden, just to say we’re on the way. Plus I feel sick. I think I may need the NQA soon.

  It only takes a few minutes for my phone to vibrate with an incoming message. I open her reply:

  Use WhatsApp, I’m not Donald Trump. Why are you nervous? Maybe Linden wants to make sure dinner is ready when you arrive.

  I open WhatsApp and answer her there.

  I’m just nervous, ok? Didn’t think before texting, but you could have replied here anyway. I add a winking smiley before hitting send.

  She writes back immediately.

  Don’t be a big baby. Chew some gum to get rid of the nausea. A laughing smiley follows the advice.

  I roll my eyes.

  I didn’t bring any gum. And now my he
ad is spinning, too. Can’t read while riding in a car. Oh well, TTYL or tomorrow. Love ya.

  Laters is her curt reply.

  But I quickly remind her:

  Sound off, vibration on now. Don’t want to be impolite when I’m with Linden. Don’t worry if you can’t reach me.

  Ok, she writes.

  I switch off the sound and put the phone back into my purse. The drive seems to take forever, and if he lives where a lot of the rich people in Miami live, it’ll take a while longer still.

  But, instead, Grayston drives into an area I know quite well. We seem to be staying in Coral Gables after all.

  “Where are we going?” I ask Grayston.

  “To Mr. Priest’s home, Miss Leroux.”

  “And where is that?” I ask.

  “May I ask you to put on the blindfold now?” he says politely.

  “What? No, I don’t want to be blindfolded,” I snap. “Either Mr. Priest trusts me enough to let me come without it, or you can turn around and drive me home again. I’m not playing any of your dumb games.”

  Grayston pulls over to the curb and dials again.

  “Yes, Grayston?” Linden’s voice fills the car once more.

  “Miss Leroux refuses to put on the blindfold. She says either you trust her or I’m to drive her home again, Mr. Priest.”

  Linden sighs audibly. “Thalia, can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, but that doesn’t change anything. I’m not interested in giving anyone your address, Linden. And you should have known you could trust me when I brought you to the damn hospital.”

  After a moment of silence, Linden says, “Just bring her here, Grayston.”

  “Yes, sir.” The driver hangs up and resumes the route, but I can see he doesn’t like the fact that I came out on top. Well, I’m not giving in. I can see that Linden wants to keep his whereabouts secret, and that’s what I would do if I were famous, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let them treat me like a toddler and give me absurd orders. “We will reach our destination in a few minutes, Miss Leroux.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Vanderworth.”

  I’m getting increasingly anxious. What if he turns out to be a totally awesome guy and manages to turn my head? I don’t want to fall in love. All I want is to lick the wounds Colton gave me—figuratively, of course, for he never hurt me physically.

  While I’m musing about my past affair, Grayston stops the car. “We have reached our destination, Miss Leroux.”

  I shake my head to clear it, banning the thought of Colton to the very back of my mind. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re here,” Grayston says, getting out.

  I stare out the window. “Oh em gee,” I murmur, awestruck by the giant house that looms beyond the driveway.

  The door next to me opens, and I get out, straightening my dress and looking up at the door. All I can think is that it looks like a rabbit hole into a different world. Just then Linden steps out of that door. His hand is still bandaged, but apart from that he doesn’t look ill or injured at all. He comes down the steps. I would go to meet him halfway if I could, but my feet seem frozen to the ground. “I’m glad you came,” he says once he’s right in front of me. He leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

  “I had some time to spare,” I answer cheekily, but pull away a little. No kissing on a first date.

  “You want to come inside?”

  I nod, and Linden offers me his arm. I reluctantly take it, and he leads me up the steps. “This is a beautiful house,” I state, thoroughly impressed.

  “You’ve only seen the façade so far,” he counters.

  “Well, it’s a beautiful façade then.” I smile.

  “Thank you.” He chuckles. “I thought we’d sit down in the living room for a bit first, because dinner isn’t quite ready yet.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  I let my gaze roam around as we walk into the living room. The furniture is very modern, but there are a few antique pieces here and there.

  “Thalia?”

  “Yes?” I ask, tearing my eyes away from the arrangement.

  “I asked whether you would like a drink,” he repeats.

  “Oh. Yes, thank you.”

  “And what would you like?” He smiles down at me.

  “A glass of water would be good.”

  Linden leads me to a large couch. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” I sit down and look up at him. He seems to be drinking in my appearance. But then he breaks the spell and turns, stepping out to fetch my water. Should I get up and help with anything?

  My eyes travel the room. Again, a well-balanced mixture of modern and antique things. Somehow I don’t believe this is his house, but I won’t say that out loud. I don’t want to offend him or anything. I rise and walk over to the fireplace. A painting above it has drawn my attention.

  Linden clears his throat behind me, so I turn around. “Are you interested in art?” he asks, nodding toward the picture.

  “If it’s beautiful to look at,” I venture, returning to my seat on the couch.

  “And is this painting beautiful to look at?”

  “I like it.”

  His smile widens. “Thank you.”

  My expression shows my confusion. “What for?”

  “Well, I painted that, and you said you liked it, so I said thank you.”

  I feel the heat suffuse my cheeks. “Oh. Wow.” I lower my eyes, hoping he doesn’t see me blush.

  Linden sits down at the opposite end of the couch, and I can feel his eyes on me. We both don’t know how to start a meaningful conversation, which is no wonder, because we don’t know each other. If we were at some neutral place, it would be easier to find a topic to start with.

  “How did your study session go?” he asks.

  What an inane question! “Uh. I hope it went well enough,” I answer with a small shrug.

  He nods, and we’re silent again. Craptastic. I didn’t imagine it would be this awkward. “My friend said you were a musician,” I blurt out, just to get us started. I figure music is as good a topic as any.

  “I don’t know if you would call me a musician,” he says modestly. “I mainly sing, and sometimes I play the guitar or the keyboard.”

  “So what about this band … Downstair Alley? How did you guys meet?”

  “Kingston and I have been friends since we were small, and we were in high school band together. Mike, Gavin, and Azer joined us later, when we were looking for new members to form a band of our own,” he explains. “After high school, we were a garage band for a while, but then my uncle recorded a demo with us and gave it to a friend.”

  “Sounds lucky.”

  “Do you play an instrument?” he asks.

  “I play the guitar, and sometimes I sing, too, but I probably can’t compete with you.” I smile.

  “Do you want to try?” He grins back.

  “I’d rather not. I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

  “I don’t think that could happen. What do I have to do to make you sing for me?”

  “I don’t sing for other people. Sorry, Linden.”

  “Aw, come on, Thalia. I’m not going to tell anyone. Please?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not going to sing.”

  “Okay. Too bad, though.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Every time I’m supposed to sing in front of people, I just … can’t do it. I usually sing in the shower or when I’m alone in my room.”

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “You don’t have to justify yourself.”

  “I wasn’t trying to.”

  “Yes, you just did.”

  I make a dismissive gesture and grin. “I’ll let you win. I get enough of these arguments with my best friends, thank you very much.”

  “The girl with you at the hospital—was that your best friend?”

  I nod. “That was Hailey. She’s one of them anyway.”

  “And who’s
the other?”

  “Camille. We used to live together, the three of us, before they both moved in with their boyfriends. It was nice sharing a place with them because we all grew up in the same town.”

  “And where was that?” Linden asks.

  “Austin. Cami’s mother owns a farm there, Hailey’s parents have a store, and my dad has his own company.”

  “What kind of company?”

  “It’s an advertising firm.”

  Linden cocks his head to one side. “And why are you studying architecture then?”

  “I don’t want to be dependent on my dad’s connections. I have older siblings that can inherit the company, and I want to build a life of my own.”

  “I guess I should have gone to college, too,” he says pensively.

  “I think everyone needs to decide that for themselves. And if you can make a living from music, then that’s awesome. Why would you do something else?”

  “I don’t know if I’ll still be able to make a living from it in twenty years, you know?” he explains softly.

  “Yeah, then maybe you should think of a plan B … unless your band scores some really huge hits. That might get you enough dough for the rest of your lives. I mean, I have no idea how much you can make as a musician, but when I look at Draven, I think he’s doing the right thing.”

  “Who’s Draven?” he asks.

  “My current roommate. He and a few of his fellow students have a band. They just love what they’re doing, I think. He has a gig tonight, and I wanted to see it, but you asked me out first, so I’m gonna wait for the next one to see them play.”

  “I’d like to hear them. When’s the gig?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Could you call him?”

  I nod, a little puzzled by his urging.

  “Then ask him, and we’ll go.”

  “Do you really want to be in a crammed club tonight? I mean, you were only discharged yesterday.” Shouldn’t he take it slow?

  “The amnesia was a result of shock, and I don’t need my hand to listen to a band,” Linden says with a smile. “I can use the other to hold a drink, so I should be fine. Go ahead, call him.”

  “Okay.” I take my phone from my purse and dial Draven’s number.

  “Don’t tell me he’s a pervert and you want me to rescue you,” Draven says by way of a greeting.