She Runs Away (The Sheridan Hall Series Book 2)

by Jessica Calla

  But I don’t tell Ben those things. Instead, I lean back into him and feel his breath on my neck as he drapes himself around me. I couldn’t care less that we’re in public.

  Ben and I sway together as The Randoms cover everything from ballads to rock. Dave’s chameleon-like voice has no distinct sound, taking on whatever tone he needs for the song. I can see why he manages to hook up with all the girls. Between his looks and his voice, that purry voice I remember from the day I passed out, he’s hard to resist.

  When the band takes a break, Dave hops off stage, disappearing through a group of swooning girls. He reappears on the bar floor a few minutes later, fully clothed and looking refreshed in a clean tee and new cargo shorts. He’s tall, taller than Ben, and he easily finds us in the crowd.

  As Dave approaches, I study his form, first the height, then the eyes—those twinkling hazel eyes—then the hair. Dirty blond with streaks of lighter, almost white blond, thick and messy. He’s tan too, despite it being winter. He weaves his way through the crowd, talking with everyone who stops him, accepting their shots, hugs, and accolades.

  “Hey, Basement Girl.” He towers over me and leans down to kiss me on the cheek. Ben’s body tenses behind me. “You guys are awesome for coming out. I know the weather is crap.”

  “You sound great.” Ben’s voice is sincere, although he presses into my back a little more, tightening his grip on me.

  “Thanks,” Dave says, with a cute little flush. “I love being on stage. Later I’ll introduce you to some of the second floor people. Did you see Dolch?”

  Dolch, our Resident Assistant, usually makes himself scarce, which is appreciated. “Not yet,” I say. “Juliet and Chase are here. Oh, and Maggie’s somewhere.” I stand on tiptoe and peek around for Maggie.

  Dave’s eyes dart around the room, and he bounces on his toes, restless. “Great. Um, I better get back. I’ll catch you later.”

  Dave walks backward a couple steps then turns and smacks right into Maggie, knocking her over. He awkwardly tries to help her stand. When she composes herself and says “Hi,” he scurries away.

  Maggie points behind her to Dave, who’s weaving through the crowd again. “What did I ever do to him?”

  I shrug, and Ben laughs. “He’s so smooth on stage but down here, he’s a klutz. Gee, it’s like Second Floor Dave is a mere mortal.” Ben feigns shock then rolls his eyes. Boys.

  Juliet and Chase find us next. “This is so much fun. I’m glad we came,” Juliet says. “Was Dave here talking to you?” Her bright eyes ooze with hope.

  “Settle down, Miss Matchmaker. He was talking with all of us. He’s super nice, except to Maggie,” I say, leaning toward Maggie to give her a little shove.

  Juliet frowns, and Maggie smirks. “Ha ha.”

  We grab the pitcher and our cups, and Juliet pours for us as The Randoms start their next set. Then Ben’s phone lights up.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ben

  I don’t recognize the number on my phone. Who the hell is calling me now? Jules holds my cup as I cover my ear and try to hear. “Hello?” I yell over the music.

  “Oh, um, Ben?” It’s a woman’s voice.

  “Yep.”

  “Hi, um, this may be weird.” Her voice shakes, and I struggle to hear. “I’m female number one-forty-seven.”

  I gulp and drop the phone. “Shit!” I peer at the beer sludge under my shoes. My heart beats in my chest and sweat beads on my forehead as I bend down to find the phone. Jules and Megan squat down to help.

  “What’s wrong?” Megan asks.

  I have half a second to debate whether or not to tell Megan, the girl I’m sleeping with, that my ninety-five percent match is on the phone. Meg’s testy today, but as we watched the band and she stood with me, I felt our connection again. It’s like she’s supposed to be here, fit against my body, her blonde hair under my chin, her small frame backed against me.

  I stall, giving them the “one second” hand signal as Jules finds my phone in the dirt on the floor. She hands it to me with two fingers, grimacing.

  I wipe it on my jeans and put my hand over my ear to listen. “Sorry. Hold on.” I walk to the exit and push my way outside. The cool air and silence settles me, and I take a deep breath. “Can you repeat that?”

  The woman laughs. Her voice is throaty. Sexy. “It’s me. I saw the signs. You’re number sixty-nine. Ninety-five percent match.”

  “Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s me.”

  “You sound like you’re out?”

  “I’m at The Study with some friends. We know someone in the band.”

  “Great. Can I meet you there?”

  Meet me? Possible responses flow through my mind: No, even though I hung posters and looked for you all over you can’t meet me because the girl I’m currently fucking and my crazy ex-girlfriend are here. Yes, sure, but don’t mind the surly blonde throwing a fit. Would Megan even care? She’s so hell-bent on following this contract. I mean, how many ways is she going to tell me she doesn’t want to be with me? Maybe something really special could happen with this girl. Supposedly we’re a record-breaking match. Yeah right.

  “Sure.” I regret the word as soon as it flies out of my dumb mouth. Niceness is my Achilles heel. “How will I know you?”

  “I’ll find you. I know who you are. I’ll be there in about a half-hour, okay?”

  “Wait!” I yell. “What’s your name?”

  “Carly,” she says. “See you soon, Ben.”

  Megan

  Ben pushes through the crowd back to the bar with his phone in his hand and a flushed face. “You’ll never guess who that was.”

  I take a sip of my beer and wait.

  “Who?” Chase asks.

  “My ninety-fiver.”

  I spit and start choking. Wait what? Chase slaps me on the back. “I’m okay. Wrong pipe,” I sputter, pointing to my throat.

  Juliet yelps. “I knew the signs would work!” She claps her hands and bounces, clearly more excited than any of us, even Ben. “Are you going to meet her?”

  Ben looks at me. “Apparently. She’s coming here. In about a half hour.”

  Who the fuck is trying to pass herself off as Ben’s ninety-fiver? My stomach churns, and I turn away so they can’t see my face. After I place my cup on the bar and refocus, I turn back to them and try to act disinterested. How is this even happening?

  Ben’s gaze shifts from me, to the stage, to the bar, back to me. I appreciate his uncomfortableness, but still… he could have told her no, that he’d meet her some other time. I know I haven’t been the nicest person tonight, but I thought I was turning it around. At least he could show a sliver of respect.

  I shake my head. What am I thinking? I can’t blame Ben for this. This girl is a fraud. He shouldn’t be meeting her at all.

  Maggie chatters behind me. “Oh my God! What’s her name?” Maggie loves a love story, fake or real. I swallow hard, waiting.

  Ben clears his throat. “Um… Carly.”

  Carly? Where do I know that name? I search my memory for traces of “Carly.”

  Then I remember. The ACME woman! The one who I stopped to help me when I found out Ben was my match! She must have stolen my questionnaire. That bitch!

  I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room to regroup, leaving an excited Juliet and Maggie asking Ben a million questions. I fight my way through the crowd as Dave takes the stage again, this time nailing a current pop tune. I curse my lack of height but sneak my way to the line of about twenty girls at the restroom door.

  Ben catches up with me. He reaches out to touch my arm. “I’m sorry, Meg.”

  I pull away from him and yell over the music. “For what? You’ve been trying to find this person, and now you did. I’m happy for you.”

  His face softens as his eyes search mine. “I didn’t mean for her to come here though.”

  Well maybe you should have told her that, jerk. “Uh-huh.”

  I should tell Ben that Carly’s a fraud, but
the thought crosses my mind that maybe this is how things are supposed to work out. Maybe I’m not supposed to be with Ben. I wasn’t supposed to be with him in September, and I’m not supposed to be with him now. Fate is trying to tell us that we don’t make sense, despite the match. He wants more than I can give him. He wants someone who will let him take care of her, like Juliet. Maybe someone like Carly who’s so ready and willing. Ben needs someone who will live in his hometown, have two-point-five kids, and maybe that white picket fence. That’s never been me, and I don’t know how to do any of that. Shouldn’t I let him go?

  Then my proud, competitive streak flushes that thought. What a fucking bitch, trying to mess with Ben. Ben’s smart, but he’s too nice. This Carly witch is going to eat him alive. Suddenly, I’m glad she’s showing up so I can tell her off.

  I grin at Ben. “I want to meet her. She must be cool if she’s like you, right?” I’m pissed, not sarcastic, but I’m not sure he hears my tone.

  Ben’s gaze turns to a glare. “So you don’t care? No feelings about this at all?”

  I have about a million feelings, but none I want to share, so I shrug and bark words instead. “What do you want from me? This is just supposed to be about the contract, remember?”

  He shakes his head and yells. “How can I forget? You mention it every fucking chance you get.”

  When I yell back, the people in line turn to watch. “It has an escape clause. So go. Escape. Be with your match.” I flail my arms and wave him away toward the crowd.

  Ben doesn’t budge, nor does he acknowledge the crowd staring at us. “You know, I’m getting tired of this shit with you. Do you really think I care about the match? After everything the past few weeks?”

  “Well you better start caring because she’s showing up here. With us. And our friends. To the event I invited you to.” It’s a blatant attempt to change the topic off feelings and on to semantics.

  He scoffs. “It’s a public place, Meg. I can’t stop her—”

  I jut out a hip and nod my head. “Oh yeah, you could have. But that’s fine, because you know what? I didn’t want to be out tonight anyway. I should have stayed home. So you stay. Have your date.”

  Ben runs his hands through his messy hair and pulls it from the roots then moves his face close to mine. “You’re insane. Do you know that?”

  I do know that, but I’m too proud to admit it. “I’m not insane. I’m just not perfect like you. Go. She’s probably here by now.”

  The crowd grows tired of us and turns away. Either that, or we’re being written off as a drunk fighting couple. “That’s it?” Ben yells. “You’re passing me along to the next girl?”

  “Oh, it’s not just any girl, Benjamin. It’s your dream girl, remember?”

  “Nice, Meg.” He nods his head and smirks, sarcasm oozing from his words. “Great. Glad you care.” He turns his back to me and walks away.

  My emotional state wavers between “stewing with anger” and “drenched in sadness” while I wait in line for the bathroom. By the time I finish and get back to the bar, Carly’s there, in her tall, blonde glory. She looks like a slutty Barbie doll—bleached blonde and a tad trashy. She and Ben are huddled close, talking over Dave’s singing. When Carly sees me walking toward them giving her the evil eye, her own heavily made-up eyes stare into mine.

  Oh, you better be scared, I think, as I march right up to her.

  “Carly, right?” I ask sweetly over the music. I don’t wait for an answer. “I’m Megan. Have we met before?”

  Carly shifts. “Um, I don’t think so.” She turns back to Ben, whose gaze darts between us.

  “No.” I wiggle a finger at her, and then I tap it on my chin like I’m thinking. “I know you from somewhere.” My intonation alone makes for an Oscar-worthy performance.

  She looks me up and down. “I’m sure I would remember you.” Then she turns away from me.

  When I’m about to tap the Amazonian fake blonde on the back of her shoulder to get her attention again, Juliet tugs me away. “Easy, girlfriend,” she says into my ear. “What’s going on?”

  I turn to face her. “I don’t like her.”

  Juliet’s shoulders drop, and she holds a hand to her forehead. “Oh, thank God. Me neither. They look terrible together. She’s dressed like a biker chick or something. No way they matched ninety-five percent.”

  I smirk over my shoulder at the two of them laughing with Maggie. “She’s not his match.”

  “What do you mean?” Juliet studies me, lifting an eyebrow.

  I wave my hands at her. “What you said. She doesn’t seem his type.” Maggie stands on tiptoe to talk with Carly over The Randoms. Ben catches my eye and then looks away.

  Chase joins us with Pooja and Rocco in tow. I jut my hip and tap my foot on the ground while Juliet complains to them about Ben’s match. My jaw clenches and unclenches until finally, without a word, I spin around and stomp toward them.

  I tap Carly on the shoulder and ask her to join me in the ladies’ room. Ignoring Ben, I glare at her, waiting. With her back to Ben, Carly scowls at me.

  Bitch. “It’s in your best interests,” I add.

  She narrows her eyes but follows me. Once I’m sure we’re out of earshot of our group, not that anyone could hear anything over The Randoms, I flip around to look up at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Carly scoffs then holds up a manicured hand and checks her fingernails. “You said you weren’t interested. I knew about Ben from the November incident. He’s a hero, and he was cute in his interviews and stuff. I saw the opportunity and grabbed it. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is you’re lying to him.” I point up toward her and shake my head. “That’s not nice. He thinks you’re his match. You’re a fake.”

  She looms over me and smiles, drawing circles in the air with her finger. “Well, then you’re a fake too. You’re lying to him worse.”

  Dammit. She has a point, but I stay strong. “You end this right now, or I tell the Psych Department what you did, how you broke the ACME rules.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” She snarls down at me like a wolf ready to pounce.

  She’s probably right—I wouldn’t have the guts to go to Psych, but I keep faking it. “Tell Ben you’re not interested, or I will rat you out.”

  Carly puts her hands on her waist. “How about this. How about I get Ben and you go away. He likes me, I can tell.”

  I glare up at her as she smiles in Ben’s direction. “He likes everyone, moron.”

  She giggles as she looks back at me. “You had your chance. You passed. I’m next up.” She pulls her tight shirt down over her waist and glances back at Ben.

  It’s hard to argue with her. “Get out of here,” I bark, “or I swear I’ll destroy you.”

  She grins and lifts a shoulder to me then turns her back to walk away. Psycho.

  “Argh!” I squeeze my fingers into a fist and yell to nobody, to everybody in The Study. I text Maggie that I’m leaving and make my way to the door, careful to stay out of my floormates’ paths. Outside it’s quiet, and my ears ring from the noise I left behind. Stupid Ben. Stupid Carly. Stupid ACME match.

  Maggie texts me an angry message about walking through campus by myself. She’s right. I shouldn’t be alone, tipsy and aggravated, wandering around in the middle of the night. If I had better shoes on and the paths weren’t so icy, I’d break into a run. I dig my hands into my jacket pockets and march toward Sheridan.

  As I walk through the quad, I hear footsteps behind me. Great. Now I’m going to die. I pick up my pace and think about where I can hide. The library is nearby but closed at this hour. I speed up, praying the footsteps behind me disappear, until Ben calls my name.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and slow down but don’t stop. When he catches up to me, I smack him in the chest. “You scared me to death.”

  His face turns bright red, and he waves his arms at me. “What are you doing leaving alone? You shouldn
’t be walking around by yourself. Don’t you know that? Are you nuts?” I’ve never seen him so angry.

  “I needed air.” I match his angry tone, emphasizing every word. “You were busy.”

  I stomp toward Sheridan with him at my heels. He calls from behind me. “Hey. Wait.”

  Ignoring him, I stomp my feet a little harder with each step. As much as I want to avoid this conversation, I want him to follow.

  “Hey!” The word sounds like a determined plea as he catches up to me. “Goddammit, Megan, stop.”

  “What do you want?” I turn to face him and yell. “What?”

  Ben grabs my arms and pulls me toward him. His head falls to the side and his eyes plead. “Talk to me.”

  I can’t see him like this, begging me to open up, those big eyes pleading as much as his words. I wiggle to try and break free. “No.”

  He loosens his grip and puts his hands on my waist. “What’s your problem? You’ve been angry all night.”

  I’m able to twist out of his hands, and I start walking again, yelling over my shoulder. “I don’t have a problem, Ben. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight, and now I just want to go home. Am I allowed to go home?”

  He’s on my heels and when I speed up, he reaches for my arm again. He grabs it and stops me. “No.”

  I pull my arm out of his grasp. “Stop manhandling me.”

  He backs off, holding his hands up in surrender. “Jesus, Meg, I’m not trying to manhandle you, but you never stay still.”

  I take off again and sense him behind me.

  Next thing I know, he’s darting past me. He stops short in front of me, and I almost run into him. I try to move around him but he’s like a offensive lineman, blocking me in every direction. “Move!” I yell.

  He stretches his arms out. “No. Stop running away.”

  I stop moving and ball my hands into fists at my sides. I strain to raise my voice, but since I’ve been yelling all night, it cracks. “So I’m supposed to stand there at The Study and watch you hook up with someone else? I don’t think so.”

  I’m hoping my display of anger has some effect on him, but all he does is hold my stare and start to laugh. Then he looks to the sky and shakes his hands. “Finally!” he yells into the darkness. “Finally she admits a feeling!”