The frozen, wide-eyed look on Ian’s face was so funny I actually tossed my head back and laughed. When I looked back down, I was the one to freeze. Ian’s lids had slipped down just the slightest bit and the pace of his breathing accelerated as he gazed at my…mouth?
No! Neutral ground. We were on neutral ground! I wanted to get back to where we were minutes ago, when things were just normal and back to the way they should be, and the look in his eyes was nothing but normal. “So,” I asked, unnerved by the breathy quality of my voice, “what do you say?”
Ian blinked and his voice was tight when he spoke. “You drive a hard bargain. Take it.”
I took it back and climbed off him without looking at his face. We decided to move on, so why is there still this tension? “Thank you.”
Ian cleared his throat and adjusted the crotch of his pants. “After all that, you better have some pretty goddamn good messages on there.”
I held the phone to my ear as the phone dialed voicemail. “That’s what I’m hoping for.” I held my breath as each voicemail call began, only to be disappointed every time. Three were from Amery, wondering where I was. The fourth was from my mom, thanking me for behaving at dinner the other night. “Crap,” I murmured.
“See, all that for nothing,” he said.
I forced a smile. “Yeah, but it was pretty hilarious watching your eyes bug out.”
He tilted his head and stared at me, notably not smiling. I could see the turmoil in his eyes, the frustration and confusion – all emotions I easily recognized because I was feeling the same thing. He turned his head away and scratched the back of his neck.
I felt the sudden need to escape. I read the time on the computer monitor: Two-and-a-half minutes. Standing, I dropped my bag onto my vacant seat and then threw my phone on it. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Ian asked. He tilted his head back to watch me as I walked behind him.
“Pee break.” I hopped as I slid between the narrow space between his chair and the wall. “I’ll be back before you can say ‘Showtime’.”
“Showtime.”
I rolled my eyes. “Maybe not that fast.”
I dashed out of the room and stood in the hallway, inhaling several deep breaths. My head spun. Was all of this tension real or imagined? Was it there as I saw it, or was I making a big deal out of his actions and expressions, when it was really no different than it had ever been before?
I clasped my hands beneath my neck and leaned down, rocking back and forth until I felt I’d regained my mental faculties enough to go back in there and act normal.
But I don’t want to act like things are normal; I want it to be normal.
When I opened the door, I swore I heard Ian’s voice, but he was silent when I actually entered the room. “Were you talking to someone?”
Ian turned his seat towards me and gave me a blank look. “Huh? No.”
Hmm. I tossed my bag on the floor and shook my head. “Weird. I thought I heard your voice. I must be going crazy.”
Like I didn’t already know that.
Ian’s rueful chuckle echoed in the station. “Yeah, that makes two of us.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three days was expected.
Four days was disappointing.
By the sixth day of no call from Jayden, I began losing hope.
But by the seventh day, exactly one week after asking my number, I was utterly depressed.
Why didn’t he call?
I spent the previous twenty-four hours fine-combing my memory of every second I spent in Jayden’s presence, looking for a signal I may have missed. Nothing raised a red flag. In fact, everything seemed all systems go, as far as I could recall. He’d flirted, he’d asked me out, he’d taken my number. So, why go to all that trouble if he wasn’t going to call?
Why? Why? WHY? I wondered, stabbing the bowl of spaghetti before me. I recoiled when one of the plastic tines snapped off, sending a splash of spaghetti to right below my left eye.
“Just freaking perfect,” I muttered, dropping the damaged fork. I wiped at my eye and reached for a napkin.
I was dabbing at my eye when Amery and Casey joined me at the eatery table, both carrying their own trays of the South Student Union’s finest.
“Sorry we took so long.” Amery placed her tray of food down on the table. “The guy at the register took forever.”
“‘Cause he was too busy gawking at her to ring up my bill right. He screwed it up twice, and I think he still managed to overcharge me.” Casey picked up his receipt from the tray and scanned it. “How much are the gyros supposed to be?”
Amery took a sip of her fountain drink. “$3.99, I think.”
Casey analyzed his receipt, then laughed. “Never mind. He undercharged me.”
“See, I ended up saving you money. I’d say a little gratitude is in order.” Amery nudged him.
“Yes, ma’am.” Casey leaned over and rubbed two quick circles on Amery’s shoulders.
Amery’s brow arched. “You call that gratitude?”
“Hey, you saved me fifty cents, so I gave you fifty-cents worth of pampering.”
“Tease,” Amery complained, thrusting her lower lip out. She wrinkled her nose and winked at me, then resumed pouting.
I could only muster a faint smile in return. As amusing as my friends’ antics were, I just wasn’t in a laughing mood.
Noticing my lukewarm response, Amery tilted her head and studied me. “Take it he still hasn’t called?”
I fidgeted in my seat. “Nope.”
Casey slammed his closed fist on the table’s surface. “That worthless bastard!”
Amery and I both flinched. “Do you even know who we’re talking about?” Amery asked.
A goofy grin lit up Casey’s face. “Not the faintest clue.” He shrugged. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”
Amery rolled her eyes, but I gave him an appreciative smile.
“So, who is the bum?” Casey asked before taking a bite of his gyro.
“Just some guy,” I said, not wanting to launch into the whole story.
Swallowing his food, Casey leaned forward with an earnest look in his eyes. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
My brows lifted.
Casey chuckled. “Um, what I mean is, do I need to glare at him? Cause I’ve got a pretty mean glare. See?” He narrowed his eyes and curled his lip on one side.
I stifled my laugh. “That’s…pretty mean,” I agreed, thinking he looked like he was experiencing intestinal discomfort. Even so, the intent behind it was endearing.
“So, do I need to unleash the glare?”
I saw Amery’s eyes roll again. “That’s okay, but thanks. I appreciate it.”
Casey shrugged and turned his attention back to his food. Amery leaned forward. “Well, I’m sorry he didn’t call.”
“Not as sorry as I am.”
Amery patted my hand and returned to her meal.
I sighed as I looked down at my congealing spaghetti sauce. “You know, it wouldn’t be so disappointing if I hadn’t…” I dropped my head, unable to believe what I’d been reduced to. “I just feel so pathetic. I mean, I really thought he was into me and I got my hopes up. I even started envisioning--”
“Many blissful hours of making out until you couldn’t stand it anymore, and then ripping each other’s clothes off?” Amery winked.
“No,” I said quickly, before giving myself away with a guilty grin. “Well, sure, eventually. But, what I mean is that I was already rearranging my schedule in the hopes that we would be hanging out together.”
“What did you rearrange?”
“Well, I was already picking out a dress for a Valentine’s date I didn’t even have, for one thing,” I admitted. “And yesterday, when Ian and I were talking about getting together to do the website, he suggested Saturday, and I told him that we’d have to do it around four. I didn’t say it, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking that I should keep mys
elf available at night, just in case Jayden wanted to go out and do something.” I exhaled. “Am I lame or what?”
Amery shook her head. “You are not lame. I mean, what woman is not guilty of doing that exact same thing at one time or another?”
Somehow, that only made me feel more pathetic. I liked to think I was stronger than the average woman. “Have you ever rearranged your schedule for a guy?”
Amery nodded. “I have.”
I still didn’t feel any better. I just had such high hopes, and to have them fall so miserably flat…it was just so disheartening. I wish I knew what happened.
“Hey, don’t you guys have that panel today?” Casey asked.
I glanced at the time on my phone; the traitorous device that had failed to ring, and therefore, was the current object of my disgust and loathing. “Yeah. I should probably get going, now that you mention it.”
Amery frowned. “I thought you didn’t have to be there until two?”
“I’m picking Ian up, and then we have to run to the station to pick up the promos Dr. Quinn wants us to pass out.” I stood and slung my heavy bag over my shoulder. “Wish me luck.”
“I was just about to.” Amery stood and walked around the table to give me a hug. “Break a leg. And don’t even think about that guy. Just have fun.”
I half-smiled. “I’ll try.”
“Do or do not. There is no try,” Casey said in a gruff, high-pitched voice. That earned him blank looks from both of us – the voice, not the reference. “Oh, come on. Star Wars? Yoda?”
Amery patted him on the head. “If you say so.”
Casey slumped and he released a dramatic sigh. “Why does nobody get me?”
Amery opened her mouth to answer.
“And that’s my cue. Later, guys.” I waved and moved off to dump my tray. Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I left the building and set off for my car so I could drive to Seligman.
I arrived ten minutes later, hiked my way to the second floor, and knocked.
As I waited, I happened to glance down and notice a dime-sized splotch of spaghetti sauce on my lemon-yellow cowl neck shirt. Gasping, I lifted the hem, dropping it when I saw it had already started to dry. There was nothing I could do about it now. Perfect. Just freaking perfect.
I spent fifteen minutes picking out an outfit that morning for the show, and now all that time had gone to waste because I had to take my frustrations out on my lunch. I glanced at my phone for the time and closed my eyes. No time to head home and change. I prayed Ian had something I could borrow; something that didn’t scream Walk-of-Shame chic.
I raised my hand to knock again, but the door opened before my knuckles touched the surface. I came face-to-face with Miles Isaacson, Ian’s newest roommate. “Oh, hi,” I said, surprised to see him, since I so rarely did.
Miles was built much the same way Ian was, with a tall and lean body. He was possibly even better looking than Ian, with his chin-length brown hair and soft, honey-brown eyes, but there was a haunted look to his eyes that made me uneasy. I knew very little about him, outside of the fact that he was a junior, like both Ian and me, and had transferred from NYU. I’d questioned Ian a few times on what he was like, but Ian said he was a hard guy to get to know. Apparently, he didn’t come out of his room much, and rarely talked when he did.
Miles nodded his head in greeting.
“Um…I’m here to see Ian?”
His mouth turned up on one side, clearly a non-verbal “duh.” Nearly everything with Miles was done with non-verbal cues. I had never met anyone who could convey so many thoughts and messages without saying a word.
Miles held the door opened for me to pass. “Thanks.” I stepped inside.
He watched me walk by with those haunted eyes of his and opened his mouth. “You’re welcome.”
I tried not to show my surprise as I crossed the distance between the door and the living room, making my way to Ian’s door. I raised my hand to knock.
“I believe he’s sleeping.” Miles said behind me.
I turned around to see Miles standing at the kitchenette counter. I watched with a deepening frown as he poured a can of Dr. Pepper into a glass filled half-way with milk. He lifted it to his mouth and took a long swig, making a face of disgust as he poured the remainder of the Dr. Pepper into the glass. I wanted to ask him why the hell he was drinking it if he found it so disgusting, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. I doubted I’d get much of one, anyway.
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” I gave him an awkward smile.
He nodded, grabbed a bag of Sun Chips from the counter, and carried them and his drink concoction to his bedroom.
Weird guy. Cute, but weird.
I opened the door to Ian’s room and peeked one eye inside, wanting to make sure he was alone before I barged in. The vertical blinds were closed, but let in enough light for me to see that Ian alone lay in his bed.
I removed my bag from my shoulder and lowered it to the carpet, tiptoeing toward his bed. I sat on the edge and rubbed his shoulder gently, not wanting to startle him. I knew from experience that he could be a real bear upon waking. “Ian,” I whispered, rubbing my hand over his arm. I leaned down to his ear. “Wake up.” When I got no response, I shook his arm a little harder. “Ian, wake up, wake up, wake up.”
Ian muttered something unintelligible in his sleep and rolled onto his back, flinging his right arm over his head.
My shoulders slumped and I puffed out a breath. I was so not in the mood to deal with this. I looked around his room, which was as bare as ever. Ian had very few material possessions outside of the basic necessities. He was one of the few people I knew who didn’t even own a cell phone. There were no posters on the wall, no real personal effects, no decorations of any kind. There was a framed photo on the bookshelf above his desk. It was the two of us dressed as Sid and Nancy from last Halloween, but that was only because I’d put it there.
Ian had grown used to not bringing home anything he valued because it usually ended up destroyed in one of Pete’s drunken rages. The more I have, the more I have to lose, he used to tell me, and the mentality had stuck with him. The only thing of value he really owned was his motorcycle, which he’d won in a raffle at a Toys for Tots motorcycle run, something he’d participated in for the last three Christmases. The guy was far from a saint, but he had a pretty good heart.
I looked down and smirked. His body wasn’t too bad, either. The navy sheet had gotten twisted in his legs upon shifting, leaving his torso exposed. I scanned his cut chest with my eyes, following the tendrils of his tribal tattoo whose edges disappeared below the sheet.
My eyes caught and stuck on a small, exposed bit of his hip bone. I stared at that triangular area of his hip for a good five seconds before forcing myself to look away. Heat infused my cheeks and I felt an upward pull on my lips.
Wow, so yeah. He’s naked under there.
I touched my hot cheeks, not sure exactly why I was blushing. Or why I had to fight the impulse to look back down again. Clearing my throat, I trained my eyes on the wall above his head and shook his arm. “Ian, it’s time to get up.”
He didn’t so much as stir.
My gaze moved up the ceiling, then slowly rolled to the corner. Drawing my lower lip between my teeth, I gave into the urge to look back down again. I traced the flesh peeking out from the sheet with my eyes, then shifted my gaze to the delineated line where his lower abdominal muscles met his hip flexor. I traced down one side and back up the other, noticing it formed the most perfect V…one that flexed when his hips slowly rocked forward and the sheet tented around his groin.
What triggered that?
My eyes darted to his face, to find his eyes were open and trained on me.
My breath hitched. Shit.
Ian watched me through dark, hooded eyes and I was too busy trying to figure out what to say to make out what he was thinking.
“Hey,” he said at last in a raspy voice.
I cleared my thro
at and tried to look away, but couldn’t. “Hey.”
“Were you just checking me out?”
My eyes widened so far I thought they were going to pop out of their sockets. Part of me was mortified that Ian didn’t let this one slide. He’d already given me a free pass after the whole debacle in my bedroom; I couldn’t expect lightning to strike twice.
First instinct had me wanting to deny that I’d been ogling him like a spread of Godiva chocolates, but I was an abysmal liar. He’d see right through me. “Yeah, maybe a little,” I admitted with a shrug.
Ian’s head moved back a measure. The corners of my mouth quivered while I waited for the smugness to appear. It didn’t. Instead, his eyebrows rose.
“What do you think?” he asked, his tone both straightforward and serious.
He appeared genuinely curious, and if my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, a little fearful of my answers.
Don’t be ridiculous, Ivy! This is Ian. He’s got half the female population on campus chasing after him, telling him what a god he is. Why would he put so much value on what you think?
To buy myself time while I considered how to answer his question, I forced myself to look down at his chest again and tapped my finger against my chin, trying to break the tension. What I saw wasn’t funny, though. His breath had quickened and I noticed the sheet was balled up in his fist.
“Well,” I met his eyes again, “I have to take back every single joke I’ve ever made about you getting soft in the middle. You obviously have nothing to worry about in that department.”
He blinked rapidly twice, his brows dipping down. The sheet fell from his hand, which he lifted up to rub the sleep from his eyes. “What the hell are you doing here so early, anyway?” he snapped, a sudden caustic edge to his words.
No one I knew could downshift as fast as Ian. “I’m not early. It’s after one.”
Ian turned his head to his nightstand, then rolled onto his stomach and looked over the edge of the bed. His alarm clock dangled from the nightstand, blinking 12:00.
The Truths about Dating and Mating Page 14
