by Hazel Kelly
Even stranger, I could feel a warm glow in my chest that felt a lot like happiness. Was I glad I slept with him, even though that was all we did? It was hard to say. All I knew was that I didn't feel bad about it in the slightest.
When I noticed my dress hanging over his desk chair, I looked down and remembered changing into a clean shirt and a pair of gym shorts, which were not only too big but easily the most unflattering thing I’d ever put on.
Still, I was lucky they fit after all the pizza sticks I took to the face last night. Ugh.
I took a deep breath and wiped beneath my eyes in a blind effort to remove any melted mascara while I considered my options.
I could go down the hall and crawl into bed with Zoey and Logan? Then again, they didn't even know I was here.
I crawled across the unmade bed and reached for my dress. Then I scuttled behind the door to change so I wouldn't give any surprise visitors a free show.
The door opened just as I was smoothing my dress down, and I wanted to say something so I wouldn't seem like a psychopath. But Carter walked in with nothing but a towel around his waist, and between the way it hugged his butt, the muscles in his back, and the mess of towel dried hair on his head, I couldn't come up with a single word.
He looked towards the bed on his way to the closet and spun all the way around when he realized I was missing, giving me an eyeful of abs I was not prepared for.
“Hi,” I said, raising a hand to make it clear I wasn't hiding with a butcher knife.
He furrowed his brow.
“I was just standing here to change,” I said, trying to ignore his pecs. “So I wouldn't spring a bunch of naked on you.” I stole a glance at the cut of his hipbones. I guess that answered the genes question. “Do you want me to take these home and wash them?” I lifted the clothes he lent me.
“Good one.”
My neck hinged forward. “What?”
“Sorry. I'm just so used to girls jacking my shit I thought you were being funny.”
“Right.” I really didn't want to think about that.
He opened his closet and pulled a collared shirt from one of the hangers in front of him.
“How did you sleep?” I asked, still standing behind the door.
“I didn't.”
“What?” I stared at his abs as he pulled his shirt on and felt a pang of disappointment when they disappeared from view.
“I was too busy watching you sleep,” he said, buttoning his shirt with a cheeky smile on his face. “Do you realize you have almost a hundred eyelashes? That's got to be above average.”
My stomach fluttered. “Don't be a creep.” I stepped towards the end of the bed and folded the shirt and shorts slowly to give my eyes a rest from the spontaneous gawking I just indulged in.
“I'm not a creep,” he said, squeezing past me on his way to the dresser. “Would a creep treat you to McDonald's breakfast and drive you home?”
“You don't have to do that.”
“I know,” he said, bending over to step into his boxers.
A lump formed in my throat as I turned to give him some privacy. My blood pressure was always a bit low after drinking, and I knew if I fainted at the sight of his…anything, I would never live it down.
“That's what makes it so heroic.”
Oh God, I'd called him my hero last night. Over ranch. So pathetic. Except why did I even care all of a sudden about looking stupid in front of him?
Was it because he didn't look stupid at all, especially now in his half-naked state? If anything, he looked hot. So hot I needed to get a grip. Clearly, I was still drunk.
“Plus, I have to go out anyway.” He walked past me again in his boxers, pausing to hang his worn towel on the back of the door just long enough to intoxicate me with the scent of his minty aftershave.
“You do?” I brushed my hair with my fingers. “On Sunday morning? What could you possibly have to do?”
“I volunteer at the substance abuse clinic sometimes.” He grabbed his jeans from the night before and smelled them before throwing them in a ball on the floor, paying no attention to the face I pulled.
No wonder he didn't want to wear jeans that smelled like stale beer…though it seemed like an odd place for him to volunteer considering his well-known predilection for beer bongs.
“They get a bit overrun after the holidays.”
My eyes dropped to his hands as he zipped his fly.
“Seems the wagon isn't quite big enough for everyone to stay on it.”
“Cool.” I watched his forearm flex as he fastened a watch around his thick wrist.
He looked confused when he lifted his face.
“It's cool that you do that, I mean.”
He shrugged like he was well past the point of being excited about it, and I wondered what he would say if I told him about my dad.
“Shall we?” he asked, grabbing his phone and wallet off his nightstand.
“Sure,” I said, slipping my shoes on at the end of the bed.
He locked the door behind us, and I turned to the left.
“This way.”
I looked over my shoulder and saw he was nodding his head towards the back stairs.
“Unless you want a bunch of idiots to clap for you on your way out.”
I scrunched my face. “Can’t say that I do.” I caught up with him two steps later. “Besides, I’m not sure I did anything last night that deserves applause.”
“Are you kidding?” he said, holding the stairwell door open for me. “You saved a man's life by not dragging him out into the cold.”
I rolled my eyes and started down the stairs.
“My hero,” he joked.
I cringed at the realization that he totally remembered that. “You deserve some applause yourself,” I said. “For not getting handsy.”
“It was a struggle,” he said, the metal stairs booming beneath his every step.
“Didn't think you had it in you.”
“Glad you think so highly of me.”
“It's not that,” I said, turning around when I reached the exit. “It's just-”
He stepped up to me.
I looked up into his blue eyes.
“Oh shit, you wanted it, didn't you?”
I scoffed and swatted his chest. “Get over yourself.”
His cheek dimple materialized. “Pretty sure you're the one who needs to get over me.”
Funny, I thought, I was thinking under.
S I X
- Carter -
“This can't be your car,” Nina said as she hoisted herself into the passenger's seat.
“I know,” I said, starting up the Range Rover and rubbing my hands together. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Did your daddy buy it for you?”
I pulled my red beanie down from where it was pinned under the visor and tossed it into her lap.
She blinked at me.
“I know it doesn't match your dress, but if you want to wear it till the car warms up…”
“Thanks,” she said, pulling it on so little wisps of blonde peaked out around her face.
“And no. Technically my dad bought it for himself, but he does about as much off-roading as Dolly Parton.”
“I see.”
“Plus, when he saw the car I was going to buy myself, he was mortified that anyone he knew might see me driving a second-hand Civic.”
She brought her hands to her cheeks. “The horror!”
“Right? So, naturally, he had no choice but to intervene.”
“At least it worked out well for you,” she said, smoothing her hand over the leather console.
“Yeah. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful.”
“It's okay,” she said. “My dad's a snob, too. It's actually one of his nicer qualities.”
I glanced at her, but she didn't elaborate.
“So for what it’s worth, he would be really impressed.”
“He'd probably love the seat warmers, too, then,” I said, flick
ing them on.
“Now we're talking,” she said, wiggling her butt in the seat.
I turned my attention to the rearview mirror and reversed carefully, keeping the nasty comments inspired by my idiotic friend’s park jobs to myself. “How am I doing on that side?”
She leaned towards her window. “You've got a few inches to spare.”
“That's what she said.”
She glared over her shoulder at me like she didn't approve, but I couldn't help but notice the slight smile lifting her cheeks.
A few minutes later, we pulled into the McDonald's parking lot, and I went straight for the drive-thru. I had enough time to take her inside, but fuck me if McDonald's was going to be the first restaurant I ever took her to.
“You take all the girls here, or-?”
“Just the ones who don't put out.”
“Ouch,” she said. “And those who do?”
I smiled. “They get Wendy's.”
“I'm afraid I have bad news then, because I never tire of McDonald’s breakfast.”
“Well I never tire of taking hotties for hash browns, so we're a match made in heaven.”
She laughed.
“What'll it be?” I asked, pulling up to the speaker.
“The bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit meal, please. With orange juice.”
“I would've pegged you for a coffee girl.”
“Normally I am, but I might go back to bed after you drop me off.”
“Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order.”
I rolled the window down and leaned into the cold. “Two number fours please. One with orange juice and one with coffee…and an order of pancakes.”
“Is that where the extra inches come from?”
“Don't judge me,” I said, pulling around to the first window. “I need some carbs. I haven't eaten anything in-”
“A few hours?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her slide her purse into her lap. “I know you wouldn't dream of insulting me by trying to pay for your meal.”
“I was going to pay for yours, too, as a thank you for the ride and for being such a gentleman.”
“The pleasure of your company is thanks enough.”
“Come on, Carter. Don't be difficult.”
I ignored her and handed a twenty to the young girl at the window.
“Now I feel like I have to get you back.”
“Good,” I said, accepting my change. “You can treat after our next sleepover.”
“That's presumptuous.”
“Oh come on. We had fun and you know it.”
“How can you be so sure? Maybe I was only using you for your ranch. And your T-shirt sheets.”
“Use me all you want, babe,” I said, rolling up to the last window. “Your wish is my command.”
“Careful now. I can be very demanding.”
I locked my eyes on hers. “Good. I’d be disappointed if you weren’t.”
She pointed past me where the girl was waiting with our food.
I rolled my window down again and handed the bag to Nina before taking the drinks.
“Ketchup,” she said. “I need ketchup.”
I asked for some and held out my hand to catch the clump of crinkled packets.
“Thanks,” she said when I handed them to her.
“Is there anything you eat without sauce?”
She shrugged. “What can I say? I'm a saucy girl.”
“Get over yourself,” I mocked, pulling into the nearest free space and putting the car in park. I flicked through the radio stations, stopping when I heard Eric Clapton's familiar voice. Then I waited while Nina got situated, which involved crinkling bags and napkins for an amusing amount of time. “Whenever you're ready,” I said.
She scolded me with her eyes and handed me the bag. I pulled the pancakes out first and folded one around my hash brown, biting into it before I noticed the face she was making.
“Hey- don’t bash it till you’ve tried it,” I said, extending the hash brown taco towards her.
“I'm good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
We stayed quiet until we were halfway through our meals, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. More like a relaxed one. Not that I wasn't dying to know what she was thinking in that pretty head of hers. Probably something like, I can't believe this idiot brought me to McDonald’s. “I'm not really an emotional eater, by the way.”
She flicked her eyes at me. “I know.”
I leaned back in my seat, letting my eyes drop down to where her shiny knees peeked out of her dress.
“So what did you buy with the money?” she asked, dipping her hash brown in the ketchup she'd squeezed onto her makeshift placemat.
I swallowed my next bite. “What?”
“After the frolfing tournament last semester. Didn't you win the CVS gift card?”
Why did she remember that? “Yeah. Two grand to split with my brother. Pretty sweet.”
“So what did you buy with it?” she asked. “Just random magazines and nail polish?”
“Yeah, I have quite the collection now,” I said, giving my nails a sad look. “Too bad I lack the fine motor skills to apply it.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded.
“I spent most of it on Gatorade.”
“What?” Her neck shot forward. “You blew a thousand bucks on Gatorade?”
“It's a multipurpose beverage,” I said. “Seemed like a good decision.”
“Multipurpose?”
“Sure. You can mix it with vodka or drink it plain.”
“So two purposes.”
I shrugged. “It was on sale.”
“Ridiculous.”
“What would you have spent it on?”
“I don't know,” she said. “But anything would make more sense than Gatorade.”
“Well, if you win next year, you'll see how tough it is to blow a grand at CVS.”
“Said no woman ever,” she said. “But there's zero chance of me winning. I can't frolf for shit.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I could teach you, if you want,” I said. “It's really not that hard.”
She eyed me skeptically. “Are you going to do that cliché thing where you stand behind me and hug my body really close like every guy who tries to teach a girl a sport?”
“If you ask nicely.”
One side of her mouth curled up, and she turned her eyes back to her food.
“Think about it,” I said. “I need a new partner anyway since it’s officially against the rules for me to team up with my brother again.”
“Why?”
“He graduated already. It wasn't illegal at the time, but now it's in the rules because we dominated.”
“I see.”
“So if you ever did want to learn, I have excellent credentials.”
“So I've heard.”
I wasn't sure I liked her tone. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Only that there's no shortage of rumors going around about you.”
“Well, you’ll be relieved to know only half of them are true.”
“Which half?” she asked.
“The half that makes me look good, of course.”
S E V E N
- Nina -
I was surprisingly disappointed when it came time for Carter to drop me off.
Outside, campus looked cold and gray, and most of the students who had reason to be out and about were bundled up in hats, gloves, and stoic expressions.
Inside Carter’s car, however, I was toasty, comfortable, and feeling pleasantly lazy on account of my full belly.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, dreading the moment I’d have to peel my ass from the seat warmer. “And breakfast. You really know how to spoil a girl.”
He pulled up along the curb and turned towards me, his left forearm resting across the top of the steering wheel. “Some girls
are worth spoiling.”
I expected him to flash me a cheesy wink, but he left the statement hanging in the air like a fact.
“And you’re welcome,” he added.
I pulled his hat off my head and handed it across the console, smoothing my flyaways down at the same time.
“Thanks,” he said, tucking it back under his visor.
I could feel myself stalling and implored myself to be cool.
He met my gaze in a way that made my lower body clench, and I had a strange urge to press my knees together.
“Okay, well, I better let you get going.” I turned and draped my fingers over the door handle.
“Aren't you forgetting something?”
I looked down at my lap and then over my shoulder at him. “What?”
“To give me your number.”
I cocked my head at him. “Seriously?”
“You know you want to.” He relaxed back in his seat. “Besides, how else am I supposed to get ahold of you if I want to take you to breakfast again?”
“Carter.”
“Nina.”
“You don't have to ask for my number just ’cause you ask everyone for their number.”
“I know,” he said. “That's actually not why I'm asking.”
“Exactly why are you asking?”
“Why don't you give me your number and find out?”
“I don't like surprises.”
“It won't be a surprise. You can have my number, too. That way, you'll know it's me calling.” His cheek dimple glinted.
I wasn’t sure where my reticence was coming from. I mean, if he didn't ask, my feelings probably would've been hurt in ten minutes when I realized I slept with a guy who didn't even have my number. But now that he was asking, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be reduced to just another number in his phone.
“Are you always this difficult when a guy asks for your number?” He looked more amused than pissed off. “You really know how to make a guy sweat.”
“Fine,” I said, wishing I hadn't exposed myself as such a freak. “I suppose you probably should have it. As a friend.”
He took my phone from me. “Best decision you ever made.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” I said, watching as he typed his number and hit the call button.
