“Sure you can,” I laughed. “I know a lot of guys with fake teeth.”
“Are you really that strong?”
“Pretty much.”
“I don’t know. Usually when people talk about how great they are at something, they’re overcompensating.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ducked down and swept her legs into my arms. She was light as a feather, and I easily swung her up onto my shoulder. “Now this is called a double-leg takedown.”
“Stop,” she laughed. “Let me down.”
“You want me to let you down?”
“YES!” she squealed.
I tossed her lightly onto the bed and then landed on top of her. “Now, if we were wrestling, you’d be pinned. But in mixed martial arts, the match isn’t over when you’re pinned. I need to submit you.”
“I don’t submit to anyone,” she said.
I was so close to her now. I could smell the sweet smell of her skin and her perfume. Even her hair smelled sweet. And from this distance, a kiss would be even easier.
Her body was so soft against mine. I could tell that she wanted me to kiss her.
We looked at one another for what felt like a long time.
And that’s when the door to her room flew open and someone stepped into the room. “What’s going on in here?”
LINDSAY
Justin jumped off of me like I was on fire.
“There’s nothing going on,” I said, sitting up. My mind was still reeling from the wrestling, and I was light-headed.
“It didn’t sound like nothing.” The R.A., Dennis, took another step into my room.
I’d met him earlier, when we were moving into the dorm, and he’d seemed friendly enough. But now he just looked angry.
“We were just messing around, Dennis,” I said, hoping that if I used his name it would calm him down.
“Yeah, Dennis,” Justin said, standing up. “We were just messing around.”
“What’s your name?” Dennis demanded.
“Don’t worry about it.” Justin moved away from me and stood by the window, his arms crossed.
“Do you go to school here?”
Justin didn’t answer, so I did.
“No,” I said. “He doesn’t. He’s my guest. We just –”
“You signed him in?” Dennis asked.
“No. I didn’t know I had to.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. My first night at Cambridge, and I was already in trouble.
“Well, you do have to. You’re going to have to go downstairs and sign him in.”
“Fine.”
“And I’m still going to have to write you up for this,” Dennis said.
I was going to complain, but then I decided not to make matters worse. I couldn’t believe I was being written up on my very first day of college.
“Fuck that,” Justin said. “Why would you write her up? She said she didn’t know. She made a mistake.” He moved toward Dennis, challenging, and the look on his face made it clear he was two seconds away from a fight.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, standing up. “It’s fine. I don’t even care.” I stepped in between the boys and put my hands on Justin’s chest. “Come on, let’s just go sign you in.
Or maybe we should go get a coffee or something.”
Justin took a step back, then reached up and gently pulled my hands away from his body. He was still glaring at Dennis. “Nah, it’s cool,” he said. “I’m out. ”
And then he was gone.
***
I couldn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned, my mind racing. My whole body felt like it was on high alert. I couldn’t stop thinking about Justin. It made no sense, since I’d just met him, but there was something about him, something I knew I needed to be close to. And now I wasn’t sure if I would ever see him again. I didn’t know his phone number, or his email, or his facebook -- in fact, I hardly knew anything about him.
My thoughts went in circles, replaying everything over and over. The way his body had looked while he was getting stitched up, how he’d waited for me at the hospital, how it had felt when he picked me up in his arms, how badly I’d wanted to kiss him. It was like a movie in my head, running on a loop.
Finally, at around three in the morning, I drifted off into a troubled sleep.
When I awoke, the sun was streaming through the blinds. It was seven am. The dorm was still quiet. My roommate, Rachel, would be arriving in about an hour, and I figured I should take a shower before she got there.
I got out of bed, slid into my new house slippers, and grabbed my shower caddy.
Then, just as I was about to leave, I noticed a piece of paper on the floor, like someone had slipped something under the door while I was sleeping.
I picked it up, hoping it wasn’t a notice alerting me to the fact that I’d gotten written up for what had happened last night.
But it wasn’t a notice from Dennis.
It was a note.
From Justin.
Which meant that at some point during the night, he’d snuck into the dorms again and slipped it under my door.
“I’ll make it up to you.
-JB”
LINDSAY
Here is the part where I explain my experience with the opposite sex. Contrary to popular belief, I was not woefully ignorant when it came to boys.
I was ignorant, but not woefully so. I’d had a boyfriend – Ian Marlowe, who I dated sophomore year for about three months. He went to a different school, so the only time I really got to see him was when our parents agreed to drive us somewhere. We would meet at the mall a lot, where we’d make out in the dark movie theatre and he’d try to get his hand up my shirt.
Then there was my date to the prom, a guy named Steven McGruder who I knew from math club. We were supposed to be going just as friends, but he kissed me at the end of the night. I tried not to think about it too much, because even though Steven was cute, he wasn’t a good kisser. His tongue was like sandpaper, and his lips were too soft.
And of course I’d played spin the bottle a couple of times at various parties. Well, if you can call trips away with the debate team parties.
Anyway, the bottom line was I didn’t know what to make of the note Justin left, or the things that I was feeling.
I knew I should be upset. After all, Justin had already gotten me into trouble with my RA, and then apparently thought it would be okay to sneak back into my dorm in the middle of the night and slide a note under my door. (Who did something like that? And how had he gotten in here anyway?) He didn’t leave a phone number, or an email address, or a way to text him.
He just slid this note under my door and what? Now I was supposed to wait for him to come back into my life, to just show up whenever he wanted? It was insulting.
Another part of me was extremely excited at the prospect of seeing him again.
Last night I thought there was no way, that he’d left my life forever. But now that there was a chance he might be back….I was surprised to find that I was smiling.
And I hated myself for it.
But before I could decide just how much I hated myself, there was a sound of a key turning in a lock, and then the door to my room went flying open.
A girl stood in the hallway. She had long curly blonde hair and she was dressed in a pair of grey leggings, a fuchsia shirt with a black leather vest over it, and three or four long silver necklaces. A huge black hobo bag was slung over one shoulder.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Lola.”
“Oh,” I said dumbly. I had no idea who Lola was, or how she had a key to my room.
“Otherwise known as Rachel Flowers,” she said. She dropped her bag onto the floor. “I’m experimenting with names.”
I was completely confused. This person standing in front of me was my roommate? “I didn’t … I wasn’t expecting you until later.” I grabbed a hoodie off the back of my chair and slid it on, suddenly aware that I was wearing only a tank top and a thin pair of pajama pants. “Y
ou’re experimenting with names?” I repeated.
“Yes. I think names are extremely important. Your name controls almost everything in your life, from the way you’re perceived to what jobs you get.”
“I never really thought about it.”
“You should.” She frowned. “Although I don’t think Lola is the way to go. I didn’t like your reaction.”
I wasn’t sure I’d had a reaction, and part of me wanted to ask her about it, but the other part felt that if I did, it would lead to a long conversation that I wasn’t sure I wanted to take part in.
“I thought you weren’t coming until later,” I said.
“Yeah, well, my plans changed.” She didn’t offer any more information, just walked into the room and look around.
“I, um, took the bed by the window. I hope you don’t mind. We can always switch if you want.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t like sleeping by the window. I had a bad experience once with a tornado.”
“Oh.” I was starting to panic a little. My roommate obviously had a screw loose.
I didn’t even know what this conversation was about anymore, much less how to add to it.
“Where’s your stuff?”
“My parents are going to bring it by later. They’re late sleepers. But not me, I love the morning dew.”
I tried to remember if I’d put anything on my roommate questionnaire about whether or not I was a morning person. “That’s good,” I said. “It’s nice to get an early start on the day.”
“Mmmm.” She was over by the closets now, and she opened mine and ran her hand over my clothes. “You have a lot of black.”
“Yeah. The other one’s yours,” I pointed out helpfully.
She crossed the room, and as she did, she spotted Justin’s note, which I’d left on the desk. Immediately, I regretted leaving it out in the open like that. But how could I have possibly known that my insane roommate would barge in and start looking at all of my personal property?
Rachel picked up the piece of paper. “I’ll make it up to you,” she read out loud.
She turned to me. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.” I reached out and tried to grab it out of her hand, but she held it out of my reach.
“Obviously it’s something.”
I felt my cheeks turning red, even though I had nothing to be embarrassed about.
“It’s just a note. From a friend.” I shrugged and tried to be all nonchalant.
“A guy friend?” She looked at me with new interest. “You’re here for one day and you already have a guy? Did you know him before you came?”
“No. I mean, I don’t have a guy.” I shook my head. Talking to Rachel was like talking to a tornado.
There was the sound of feet shuffling outside the door, and Rachel’s eyes lit up.
“That might be him!”
She sounded pleased at the idea, and an irrational wave of jealousy flooded through my body. I wanted it to be Justin. But I didn’t want him meeting Rachel.
It wasn’t Justin, though.
It was Dennis, the RA who had confronted us last night in my room.
“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Hi. I didn’t think you’d be awake. I was going to slide this under your door.” He waved a paper around.
“Yeah, join the club,” Rachel said. She leaned against the door and gave Dennis a knowing smile.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked.
“I’m Rachel Flowers.” Apparently the whole Lola thing was over.
“Oh! I’m Dennis, the RA.”
“Oh.” Rachel turned around and headed for the other side of the room. Now that she knew Dennis was just the RA, she was bored with him.
“Anyway, Lindsay, I came to have you sign this.” He held out an official looking form. “It’s for the incident that happened here last night.”
“What incident?” Rachel asked, interested again.
“It was nothing.” I took the paper from Dennis and looked it over. It basically said that I was in violation of rule 11.3 of the student handbook, and that all guests had to sign in. There was a place for me to sign the paper, acknowledging that I’d had the rule explained to me.
“It was certainly something,” Dennis said. “You can’t have hooligans just running around the building, Lindsay.”
“What hooligan?” Rachel was excited. “Is this the guy? JB?”
“JB?” Dennis spit. “That’s his name?” He shook his head. “Sounds like a thug.”
“He’s a thug?” Rachel was practically salivating for the details.
“No, he’s not a thug.” I picked up a pen from the cup on my desk and signed the paper. I just wanted Dennis to get out of there.
“Yes, he was,” Dennis said. He folded the paper neatly into thirds. “And I need to let you know that if you violate the rule again, there will be stricter consequences.” He sighed and shook his head. “I know that the freedom of college can seem overwhelming at times. But we have to be careful to make wise decisions, especially when it comes to the company we keep.”
He squeezed my shoulder, like I was some kind of infant who didn’t know anything. Then he turned around and left.
“Wow,” Rachel said, looking at me in awe. She shook her head. “You’re kind of a badass. I never would have expected that.” She wrinkled up her lips, thinking about it.
“Especially not from a Lindsay.”
JUSTIN
Landscaping wasn’t what I wanted to be doing, not this day, not ever. But I had no choice. Until I started making some decent money fighting, this was the best job with the most flexible hours.
I was sweating, my shirt soaked through, as I hefted the last barrel of cut grass and dumped it into the back of the pickup truck. Edwin, sitting in the driver’s seat, gave me the thumbs up sign. I threw the empty barrel into the back and then hopped in the passenger side.
“You want me to drop you off at the gym?” Edwin said, as he put the truck in gear and started driving.
“Yeah.” I checked my cell. My meeting with my trainer was supposed to happen in about ten minutes, so no matter what, I was going to be late. I contemplated calling or texting him just to let him know, and decided against it. He would be annoyed no matter what I said. Late is late, as far as he was concerned.
We started driving towards the gym. Traffic in Brookline was bad, so it was going to take us awhile to get to Kenmore Square. Meanwhile, little blades of grass were flying off the back of the truck as we drove. Neither Edwin nor I cared much. I kind of hoped that maybe the grass would fly back and stain some of the rich people’s cars.
“I could sure use another coffee,” I said.
“You trying to get your coach pissed or something?”
“Fuck him.” I was in no mood for anyone’s shit today. I’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, remembering how last night with Lindsay had seemed like it was going well and then suddenly things had just flipped and ended in the worst way.
I didn’t really believe my little note was going to make her feel any better about it, either. She’d probably thrown it in the trash without a second thought.
“I wouldn’t want to spar with you today,” Edwin laughed.
“I can’t spar until this cut heals,” I told him, absentmindedly touching the stitches above my eye.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. Well, that’s lucky for whoever you would have been taking this bad mood out on.”
“True.” I nodded, waiting for the truck to slow down, then hopped out and ran into Dunkin’ Donuts. The line was short, so I grabbed a couple of iced coffees and then hopped back in the truck.
By the time Edwin dropped me off in Kenmore, I was feeling better. The caffeine had started to hit my bloodstream, and I’d decided that Lindsay from Cambridge was the least of my worries. She was just some girl. There were going to be lots more girls when I signed for the UFF, and those girls would appreciate that I was a fighter. I wouldn’t have to explain that my job was more than
simply “beating people up.”
Walking into the gym, coffee in hand, I smelled the familiar scent of sweat and blood and bleach. Uriah was working the speed bag in the corner and there were a couple of guys rolling on the mat at half speed, drilling some kind of jiu-jitsu sweep. Other than that, the gym was nearly empty, which was pretty normal at mid-day on a weekday.
Uriah glanced at me as he pummeled the speed bag with practiced ease. “Coach is waiting for you in the office.”
“Yeah, I’m heading right in.”
“He said you’re late,” Uriah replied.
“Just a couple of minutes.”
“He said you’re never on time.”
“I have a job.”
Uriah almost seemed to shrug, but never stopped hitting the tiny black bag with his fists, a blur of perfectly timed speed and power. Uriah was my size, and a couple of years older than me. He was an African American kid, originally from California, who’d moved here recently and quickly become a top name in our gym. He seemed to think that the only reason I was getting my shot was that I was white and favored because I was a local boy.
We didn’t like each other very much, but I had to respect his skills. Uriah was a tough out for anybody, including me.
“Brown, what the hell are you doing?” the loud voice rang out, accusingly.
Startled, I looked up and saw Coach Jansen with the door to his office open. He was staring at me with his usual look of annoyance. “You’re late, get in here.”
I gave Uriah one last glance before heading into Coach’s office.
“Sorry, my last job ran late today.”
Jansen grunted, closing the door behind me as I walked past him and took a seat.
“I think we already had the discussion where I said I didn’t want to hear any of your excuses.” He came around the other side of the desk and sat down across from me. He wasn’t what you’d have expected from a trainer who taught thugs like me how to fight.
Coach Jansen was kind of small, not particularly muscular, with a goatee and mostly bald. He looked like he should have been teaching history somewhere, or maybe doing someone’s taxes.
Dangerously Damaged (Addicted To You, Book One) Page 3
