Nina glares at me defiantly.
God save me from stubborn women.
Before I can say anything, Alex speaks. “Lila is at the library with Ian. He just texted wanting to know if I was with you and if you knew your girl is going crazy.”
“She's at the library with Ian?” I repeat like I'm not sure if I heard him correctly.
Alex nods his head. “That's what I just said.”
“That's good,” I sigh in relief. “You,” I point at Nina, “are no help at all.”
“Because I want to protect my friend who has shitty taste in guys? Because she goes from elementary school playboy's to dating campus's number one manwhore? Which is pretty much what those girls strongly implied at the Union. So why wouldn't I help her and not you?” Nina growls.
“Because I haven't slept with anyone in two months, contrary to popular belief. Maybe because I actually care about Lila on some deeper level than a one night stand? Does nobody think that I'm boyfriend material? Because that's what this is starting to sound like!” I huff loudly. Trying not to raise my voice in a yell is becoming harder and harder the more time that passes that Lila’s not next to me.
“It's hard when I've known you one way for so long and then suddenly there's this thing between you two and it's not defined or talked about,” she shrugs.
“But I tried to talk to her about this,” I frown.
“About all the girls and what to do when one approaches her? About how you care about her and only her and she's different and why?” Nina folds her arms across her chest. “Or did you wear her down into dating you so you felt better and forgot to make sure she knew where you stood with all those other girls of your not-so-very-far-off past?”
Okay, so I might have not completely thought everything out like I had assumed.
“I'm guessing option two is what's making you look like you're choking on a lemon right now,” Nina sighs. “You're overprotective of her. You defend her. You make sure all those asshat exes of hers know they messed up and are going to miss out on how amazing she is. But they always have her paying the price for their own stupidity. You were supposed to be better than them.”
“I am,” I defend.
“And how is that going for you right now?” she scoffs.
It’s going pretty shitty, actually. The fact my girlfriend climbed out a fucking window to get away from me pretty much sums up how disastrous this whole thing has become.
“Do you want to be with her? Like in the long run, because she’s going to need some heavy convincing if you want to go that route,” Nina says. “So you might want to give her time to think and then come up with a way to keep her before you wind up breaking her heart like you were so worried she would do to you.”
I nod my head because I don’t have anything that I can say to that. She’s right. Girls are always right; you’d think I would have learned that being around them so often, but I hadn’t. I messed up. And I messed up with my best friend, of all people.
“Alright, let’s go,” I say to Alex as I make my way towards the front door.
“Where are we going?” Alex asks. “Ian’s still with Lila.”
“That’s better than her being by herself,” I scrub a hand over my mouth. “I need a drink.”
“Is that really the smart move right now?” Alex asks me sternly.
“Probably not, but it’s the only thing I want to do right now. I don’t have any focus to do anything else as a distraction.”
“Just don’t get sloppy drunk.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are,” Alex points at me. “Which is why if you want to drink, you’re going to do it away from any females that could sniff out how your relationship is going and try and make it worse.”
“Thanks.”
“Your life, man. I’m just here to keep you upright from the blows currently happening.”
Thank God for friends like him.
“This is lame,” Gage says from across the room from me. “I’m not even sure if lame is the right word to describe how lame this is.” He blinks at me. “What’s another word for lame?”
“I don’t know,” I sigh.
We’re both sitting in the living room of the football fraternity house. There are beer bottles scattered around the coffee table that’s separating us. Alex is in the kitchen making burgers since Gage agreed to drink with me and keep me company.
“How come you’re the only one here?” I ask Gage.
“Because homeboy,” Gage grunts and thrusts his middle finger towards Alex, “over there, told everyone to get out and that no girls were allowed over today until you settled this thing with Lila.”
“Captain makes the rules,” Alex says smugly and flips Gage off as well.
“You don’t even live here!” Gage huffs.
That makes me laugh. We basically used the football house as a meeting ground, and even though the upperclassman tended to move out, we still pulled rank on all the people who actually do live here.
“So what? Everyone left didn’t they? Obviously I’m far more powerful than you think,” Alex continues. “Either shut up and get fed or leave.”
“But I live here,” Gage grumbles.
“Still don’t care,” Alex responds in a sing-song voice.
“Do you think Lila will answer her phone if I text her now?” I ask both of them.
Gage screws up his face. “That’s awfully a chick move isn’t it? To text them and be all clingy?”
“You go find a girl you’re head over ass for and then tell me if I’m being clingy,” I frown.
“You can’t text her,” Alex says as he comes into the living room with plates full of food. “And before you get pissed off at me for saying that, it’s not that you shouldn’t. It’s that Ian said she left her phone in the apartment.”
Gage quickly shoves half a burger into his mouth and hums appreciatively.
“She left her phone behind?” I frown.
But what happens if she needs me and doesn’t have her phone to call me?
Another image of a sketchy white van selling milkshakes to strangers flashes through my mind. Dear God, I’m going crazy.
“Yeah,” Alex chuckles and sits down next to me. “Ian said she says it's in the fridge. I thought his phone autocorrected on him, but he said she literally put her phone inside the refrigerator.”
Now that sounds like something completely out of the ordinary that Lila would do if she was stressed.
“He's got the look again,” Alex sighs heavily while eyeballing Gage.
“What look?” Gage asks, staring at me.
I shrug my shoulders.
“Not you,” Alex says before pointing to me. “You.”
I frown. “What look so I have on my face?”
“You're I'm going completely off the deep end face that Ian likes to point out,” Alex shakes his head. “Go on, what crazy thing is going on inside your head now?”
“What happened the last time he got that look?” Gage asks.
“He wanted to ask Lila out,” Alex answers bluntly.
“But,” Gage pauses and scratches his head, “they're going out now.”
“Now being the operative word,” Alex says.
“You realize I'm sitting right here, don't you? I can explain my own situation,” I scowl.
“How's that situation going for you?” Alex asks flatly.
I shift in my seat and take a long pull of my beer before answering. “Okay, my situation sucks right now. But I'm going to fix it.”
“Have you come up with another plan?” Alex wonders.
“You're going to just tell her what's what, aren't you?” Gage guesses. “Girls don't really like that, though. You have to be direct, but keep it simple and to the point or else all these other insecurities start popping up and then you're just going ‘round and ‘round on trying to fix what's wrong.”
Alex scratches his head while staring at Gage. “I can't believe I'm going to say
this, but he's right. You better have a plan beyond just telling Lila that it was a misunderstanding. She's not been around the groupies, so she's not exactly fluent in girl bullshit.”
What girl wanted to be fluent in girl bullshit? None that I could think of. “Okay, so I explain what she saw wasn't really what was going down. Then tell her how hostile football groupies are?”
“That could work,” Gage shrugs his shoulders. “Starting place, at least.”
“But let her know it will probably happen again so you've got to add in something to reassure her that you're serious,” Alex adds.
Gage snaps his fingers with an ah-ha look on his face. “Tell her you love her.”
“Do not do that!” Alex yells. “Seriously, bro. Don't do that. Anything but that.”
“Hey,” Gage scowls. “Girls love all that feelings crap.”
“But you don't just tell a girl that you love her if you're not in love with her or not sure,” Alex frowns. “Easiest way to blow up a good thing is to be an idiot and say I love you like it's a cheap thing to say.”
“Lila and I haven't even been dating a month,” I remind them both.
Alex shakes his head with a look that all but verbally says you poor, dumb schmuck. “Pre-relationship, did you love Lila?”
“Of course I do, she's my best friend,” I say immediately.
“Okay, but loving her post-friendship is completely different,” Alex explains. “Like you would physically fall apart if you could at the thought of losing her. Like she's everything to you.”
“More important than football,” Gage chimes in.
“You can't add to what I'm saying when I'm trying to explain why what you said in the beginning was a dumb idea,” Alex growls.
“So, I love Lila, then,” I say and pause with the beer bottle almost to my lips. “Because she's always been more important than football.”
“And football is life,” Gage adds cheekily.
“You can't just say you love Lila. Did you even hear a word that I just said?” Alex demands.
“I did,” I nod my head. A calm settles against me for the first time since this morning. “But what you're saying I should feel post-friendship is exactly how I feel. Do I want to be sitting on this couch, eating a burger, and shooting the shit on a Thursday night for the hell of it because my girl needs space? No. I want to be where she is. I always want to be where she is.”
“So it's settled,” Gage smugly replies. “Killian loves Lila.”
“If that's how you feel, man, then that's great. Congratulations. Just don't go up to her and blurt it out like some asswipe using it as an excuse, because you can't take it back once you say it to her,” Alex sighs.
“I know that,” I state firmly.
“Have you ever told a girl you were dating that you were in love with them?” Alex asks.
“Honest answer? No. Lila’s the only girl I'm not related to that I've ever said it to,” I shrug.
“It'll change everything,” Alex presses his lips together. “It's not the easy way out to say it. And it hurts like hell if it ever stops being true.”
I couldn't imagine a time that it would never not be true to tell her. But I can see from the look of pain on Alex’s face it's not really me he's saying this for, but himself.
“You okay, dude?” I ask and set the bottle and plate down on the coffee table.
Alex stares blankly out towards the kitchen before physically shaking himself out of whatever memory took a hold of him. “Yeah, I'm fine.”
“So,” Gage coughs to drag out attention over to him. “What's the plan?”
The plan. On that note, I needed to seriously think on how to go about this.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lila
I blow out a breath and watch the cool air transform the heat from my mouth into something like smoke.
Opening up the door to Fine Arts, I make my way inside to get to my medieval art history lecture. It's easy to keep up with if you know your history. Lots of Christianity thrown around in different forms of art to help differentiate between the time periods.
Here's a hint: the halos are different on the angels.
I snag an empty seat for the eight o’clock class. I'm off to the side near the doors, sitting back in the third row. Far enough away that if my mind begins to drift that it still looks as though I'm studying the slideshow on the giant screen.
A class of almost ninety students seems a bit overkill, but with finals just a few weeks away, everyone who didn't come to class in the beginning of the semester is now packing the seats.
My professor walks in, all one hundred pounds of her, with her slacks tucked into her UGGs and a trench coat wrapped firmly around her slim body.
Yep, the bitter fall air finally caught up to us. One week it's so hot you think you're melting and within two weeks you're breaking out all the thermal underwear you can to keep warm.
“Good morning, class,” she begins.
“Good morning, Donna,” a chorus of us echo back in mumbles.
The door to the room opens and shuts another handful of times as the rest of the students trickle in at the last minute.
Nothing like upcoming finals week, or as we as a collective student body refer to it as Hell Week, to bring the entire class together once again since midterms.
People shuffle to pull out their laptops to take notes or the old fashion pen and paper method. Personally, I like to use my notebook. I've learned that I get distracted by solitaire far too often if I try and take notes on my laptop.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice says.
Several desks screech as they part and I look up to see why people are frantically moving their belongings.
Killian’s tall frame only increases as he towers over those sitting down. He's holding a brown paper bag in one hand and a to-go cup from the campus coffee shop in the other.
My breath stalls in the back of my throat as he stops by the side of my desk.
What is he doing here?
I haven't seen or talked to him since yesterday morning. Ian told me it was probably best if I cooled down before trying to talk to Killian. Something about having my head on straight to hear him out or something along that line.
“Figured you'd be hungry this morning,” Killian says like there's absolutely nothing spiraling out of control between us. “So there's a blueberry muffin in the bag and then I got you a hot chocolate with no whip cream because I know you don't like it.” He pauses for a moment. “Maybe if they had marshmallow fluff then you would get that. I didn't think to ask if they have that.” He wrinkles his brow. “Does the café even carry marshmallow fluff?”
“Uh, no,” I finally manage to squeak out. “I don't think so.”
“Maybe I'll get you a jar after class,” he says thoughtfully.
“Um, Killian,” I lower my voice. “We need to have a talk.”
“Can't right now. You've got class and I've got to run,” he shrugs before bending down and giving me a quick kiss that only results in leaving me speechless. “See you later, baby doll.”
And with that, he's out the door before I can even fully comprehend what just happened. But there's a bag with a muffin inside sitting on my notebook and a cup of hot chocolate in the corner of my desk.
“That's so cute that your boyfriend brings you breakfast,” a girl behind me coos. “I wish someone would bring me breakfast.”
I don't turn around or acknowledge her comment, but several people hum in agreement with her.
“Wait,” another voice raises, “Killian Blane is your boyfriend? Holy shit.”
I slink down in my seat.
“No way!” someone else gasps. “Damn, I didn't know he was taken.”
“But did you see the way he just walked in here and brought her a muffin?” a third girl sighs dreamily. “That's so awesome. She's so lucky.”
“And he knew how she likes her drink, my boyfriend can't even remember the name of my favorite drink,” another
huffs.
“Can we switch boyfriends?” someone throws out there.
Goodness grief. At least no one is being snarky, but this is by far the most people have seen us in public together. And he wasn’t even in here but for maybe two minutes tops and now there’s all this hoopla.
My phone goes off in my pocket so I pull it out to read the text message. It’s from Nina and not Killian, though.
Nina: OMG Killian brought you breakfast??
Attached is a picture of the back of my head and Killian placing the breakfast he brought me down on my desk.
You’ve got to be kidding me, I think. People really need to get a life.
And the fact that now Nina knows, it’s probably a good bet that the majority of campus knows. There goes my nice little safety net of not being in the spotlight next to Killian. I tuck my phone away without replying to her. I’m not even sure what I could say to that.
“Psst,” the girl sitting in the seat next to me leans over. “Hi.”
“Uh,” I hesitate, “hello.”
“Do you know how that was?”
I stare at her. She’s kidding me, right? I blink a few times to see if the amazement on her face will go away. It doesn’t.
“That was Killian Blane from the Hanson Hurricanes,” she keeps going. “He’s one of the best players on the football team. I can’t believe you’re dating him. He’s so larger than life. I mean, seriously, the guy is huge in person.”
“Mm-hmm,” I nod my head.
“How long have you known him?”
“Since we were little,” I sigh since clearly this isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Forget the fact that the professor has started class and that practically no one is paying attention anymore. “We grew up together.”
“So you knew about his reputation,” she bobs her head and lowers her voice. “I’ve heard he’s really good in bed.”
I’m tempted to say his cuddle skills are top level, but that’s not what she’s referring to. And I know it’s not, because Killian’s known for two things: football and sex.
“So is it serious?”
“I guess so.”
“You’re so lucky,” she sighs dreamily and leans back in her seat. “I wish I was that lucky.”
The Wrong Way: Hanson University: One Page 19
