by Sotia Lazu
“The hotdogs were good.”
“And the date?”
“The date wasn’t. Things were awkward between us. And then Nate showed up outside our dorm.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess Bill told him we’d go out?”
Krista scrunched her nose. “So what? He was checking to see if his friend scored? How did he know when you’d be back?”
“You think Bill could start telling stories about me? Like Troy?” Eliza felt the blood drain from her head.
“Honey, no.” Krista shook her head fervently. “Bill’s a good guy. He’s nothing like them.”
He hung out with them, but he was too easily flustered to be one of the bad boys. “You’re right. Nate’s probably dating someone in our dorm. Or whatever he does with women. My date was still a fail, though.”
“Eh.” Krista punched her defenseless pillow.
“Eh is right, my friend, but I’m not giving up.”
“On Bill?”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “On the mystery guy. If nothing else, I had fun tonight, except for the total lack of sparks.”
Krista nodded. “Well, here’s to your next date.” She raised an imaginary glass, and Eliza mirrored her gesture before tiptoeing to the bathroom. Her feet made squishy sounds on the carpet.
* * * *
“Hey.” Nate flicked open his Zippo and lit a cigarette.
Bill scowled. “Will you ever quit those cancer sticks?”
“Not any time soon, no. One of the few pleasures I’ve got.” He pulled in a long puff, and then blew the smoke in Bill’s face.
Bill waved away the cloud. “The others being poetry and stalking people?”
“Not stalking anyone. I was passing by, saw you, and thought I’d say hi.” Or he’d been prowling the area and chain smoking since he saw them leave. He wished he never asked Bill what he was up to tonight.
Bill was a decent guy, probably who Eliza should be with, but seeing them together raised Nate’s hackles. And that painfully awkward kiss… He hoped Bill didn’t decide to keep trying till their chemistry improved.
“So how was the big date?” he asked.
“It was fine.” Bill didn’t meet his gaze. “Goodnight.” He started walking away, but Nate grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him in place.
“Fine? It was fine?” He flicked his cigarette with his thumb, sending ash flying all over Bill’s shirt. “Could you be any less informative?”
Bill squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”
“Are you my girlfriend? No, I’m not drunk. I had a drink or two.” Or ten. “You had your fun, and so did I.”
“There wasn’t much fun to be had,” Bill mumbled.
Nate bit back a grin. “What was that?”
“There wasn’t much fun to be had. Not that I blame her.” Bill paused and ran one palm down his face. “It was the date from hell, man. Wrong place. No chemistry. Ant-attack. No chemistry.”
“I’m sorry man.” Yes! Not to forget his asshole persona, he added, “So she didn’t thank you properly?” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“I wouldn’t have, if I were her, and I’m easy.” Bill shuffled his feet. “I did get a goodnight kiss.”
Nate leaned in to look him in the eye. “Tongue?” It didn’t look that way from where he stood—more like Eliza tripped and fell on Bill’s lips—but Nate wasn’t sure.
“Minimal, as was duration. I somehow doubt I’ll be seeing her again. Possibly ever. Not even by accident.”
This time the grin made out, wide enough that Nate’s cheeks hurt. “Don’t sweat it, man. Happens to the best of us. You two weren’t meant to be.” Nate wrapped an arm around Bill’s shoulders, turned him toward the direction he was originally going, and swatted his ass. “Now go play with yourself thinking of might-have-beens.”
“You’re an ass.” But Bill was chuckling as he walked away.
“That’s my girl,” Nate whispered. He tossed away his forgotten cigarette and lit a new one. “One for the road,” he muttered to himself, forcing his feet to lead him the opposite direction than the one tugging at his being.
Chapter Eight
Despite telling Krista she wouldn’t give up, Eliza woke up feeling down and out.
The date with Bill provided laughing material for a lifetime, and she genuinely liked the guy as a person, but the evening brought home the distinct possibility she’d never find out who kissed her.
It was days since her date with Alan. The mystery man would have shown up by now, if he was into her.
Unless maybe he was deformed. It could be a Phantom of The Opera kind of thing.
She shook her head, rolled over, and buried her face into her pillow.
She hadn’t exhausted her options. It could still be Cal, though she doubted it. The way he carried himself showed he had confidence in his manhood, yet he lacked the finesse of whoever changed her world with a kiss in the dark.
“Shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” she muttered to herself, the sound muffled by the pillow.
Plus, if it wasn’t him, it could be either of the last two guys. She hadn’t spotted them around town this week, but that didn’t mean she never would. There was still hope.
Only she didn’t feel all that hopeful.
* * * *
Cal was militarily punctual.
The intercom buzzed at precisely eight in the evening. Eliza told him there was no reason to come upstairs, but he said that was what a gentleman did.
He also brought her a red rose, which tipped the scale toward him. And he was dressed appropriately, in dress slacks and a button-down shirt without colorful patterns.
Maybe she’d been wrong in her assessment of him.
She filled a coffee mug with cold water and put the flower inside. Then she bade Krista a good night and took Cal’s proffered arm.
“I’ve made reservations for us at the Trattoria Italiana. I hope you like Italian,” he said.
She knew the place. It wasn’t too posh, but not a casual diner either. She liked it well enough, though after last night, she’d settle for any enclosed space with chairs. “Love it,” she said with a smile.
Cal’s car was an old, fuel-guzzling American beast, and Eliza couldn’t see his large frame being comfortable inside anything smaller. He got the door for her and helped her into and out of the passenger seat.
As they entered the restaurant, he looked down at her with admiration and said, “I never noticed how beautiful your eyes are. This dress really compliments them.”
All in all, that date started off in the most promising of ways.
Until the server came to take their order.
“I’ll have the pepper steak, medium-rare, and the lady will have the Carpaccio and mozzarella salad,” Cal said. He winked at Eliza. “I know how you gals are always watching your diet.”
She wouldn’t kick him in the shin. He was extremely polite up to that point, after all. If ordering for her without asking first and making one politically incorrect remark was all he had going against him, she’d get over it—even if she drooled at the thought of his steak and had never needed to count calories.
Sadly, that wasn’t all.
Cal Finn was as dull as a doorknob. An unpolished one.
All he talked about was the class, the lecturer, and the team. Early on, Eliza had to prop her elbow on the table and lay her cheek on her palm, to avoiding falling asleep in her salad.
He wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t Mr. Right. Or Mr. Right-Now. To be honest, he was Mr. Right-Now-I’d-Rather-be-Anywhere-Else.
“I go to the gym every day.” Great. He changed the subject.
The way he needed to flex his biceps to pour her a glass of diet soda gave Eliza a vivid imagery of a male peacock stretching its tail feathers.
“That’s nice,” she said. “I do kick-boxing three times a week.”
He chuckled. “Gives you the illusion you can defend yourself?”
; Even if he was the kisser, the two of them had no future. She’d throttle him in his sleep, if they ever became a couple. “I don’t need an illusion.” She drove a leaf of lettuce across her plate with her fork. “I can land any would-be-attacker on his ass.”
He smiled and patted her arm. “With this here?”
She returned his smile. “I’m pretty good with kneeing groins.” And pretty close to demonstrating her skill.
He retracted his hand and turned his focus to his humongous steak. The mashed potatoes on the side made Eliza’s mouth water. “There is no need to get testy, Eliza. All I wanted to say was that every girl needs a man by her side, to feel safe.”
Eliza rolled her eyes so hard, she almost saw the inside of her head.
Amazingly, Cal remained oblivious. “Besides, that’s the purpose of a woman—to find someone to settle down with.” He shrugged.
“And the purpose of a man?” Keeping the irritation out of her voice was difficult.
“To provide for his woman.” He seemed shocked she didn’t know that. “He has to have a solid job, so he can bring home the bacon, while she raises his children.”
Ah. He was joking. Eliza laughed.
“What?” he asked.
He wasn’t joking.
Yeah… that wouldn’t do. “I’m sorry. I have a horrible headache.” She stood and left her napkin by her plate. “I think I’d better go.”
He wiped pepper sauce off his lip and pushed back his chair. “I’ll drive you. We came together, and it’s my responsibility to make sure you get to your room safely.”
But she wanted to get a burger on the way home. She should say so. Instead, she said, “You really don’t need to, Cal.” Emphasis on the really.
“I won’t take no for an answer. You may need something on the way back.”
And God forbid she fend for herself.
He insisted, until she relented and let him pay and drive her back. At least he remained silent and kept his hands to himself until they reached her dorm.
He switched off the engine, climbed out of the car, and hurried to get her door. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“We’re not allowed to have guests after nine.” The lie came out with surprising ease.
“Then I’ll have to say goodnight here.” Without warning, he wrapped both arms around her and shoved his tongue into her mouth.
Not only wasn’t he the kisser, he was bad at it. So very bad. Horrible. His tongue was slimy with too much saliva and stuck halfway down Eliza’s throat, not allowing her any movement, and he opened his mouth way too much, as if trying to eat her face.
She pulled away, but he must have confused her shock for lust, because he winked. “That’s all for tonight. We’re throwing a party tomorrow at Lowell. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Oh goodie. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was no way she’d see him again or make an appearance at a party with frat, who probably share his way of thinking. “Cal, fun though tonight was, I don’t think—”
“Come at ten. It’ll be at full blast by then.” There was no sign he heard her. It was possible that women had no voice in his little world.
She sighed. “Thank you for dinner, but I’m not coming. Goodnight.” She opened the door and walked inside, before he could utter another misogynistic word.
She turned the corner to the staircases but didn’t go up. Instead, she waited until she spied Cal driving off, and then was out the door again, determined to get something to eat. Something meaty and chock-full of cholesterol. With a side of fries.
She knew the perfect place. A fifteen-minute walk away, Bobbie’s combined grease and taste to perfection.
* * * *
Three bites into a juicy bacon and mushroom cheeseburger with extra mayo, Eliza was interrupted by a voice she wouldn’t mind never hearing again in her life.
“What? Captain America didn’t feed you?”
She looked up, and there was Nate, grinning like he just won the lottery.
She wasn’t meant to go to bed on a full stomach. She made a show out of chewing her mouthful, swallowing, and licking her lips. “Not your business. Now crawl back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
“And miss the opportunity to rub in that you date losers?” He scoffed. “Try again, sunshine.”
She had every faith in her ability to out-snark him, but sooner or later, he’d hit below the belt, and she didn’t want to deal with it. “Are you stalking me?” She arched an eyebrow, but unease roiled in her stomach.
“Yeah, ’cause this town is so huge, there’s no way I ran into you two nights in a row.”
Why couldn’t he leave her in peace? He saw her with Bill last night, and now he knew she’d been out with Cal? Was she so unlucky? There was no way he’d bypass an opportunity to make fun of her, and her two disaster dates on two consecutive nights was nothing if not such an opportunity.
The green of his eyes almost luminescent under the diner’s fluorescent lighting as he studied her. He was biding his time, calculating how to make his strike hurt. And he was too good looking to be so mean, damn it.
She went for the head-on collision. “What do you want? How did you even know I was out with Cal?”
“Ah-huh.” He pulled out the chair opposite hers, planted his ass on it, and helped himself to a handful of her fries. “How did you know Captain America referred to him?”
“He’s not like that.” It came out too whiny to be convincing. She tried again. “He’s fun—”
“Boring.” He drew out the word and reached for more fries.
She slapped his hand away, hard—“and sweet.”
“Then why are you here with me, and not getting cozy with him?” His look of triumph could be because he not only managed to get a fried potato, but also dipped it in her mayo. He kept cutting her off and touching her food and pissing her off.
“I’m not with you. You… You appeared—”
“You ditched Mr. Fun-and-Sweet for a burger? What kind of a person are you?” He gave her a mock-horrified look and proceeded to lick mayonnaise off his fingers. Slowly.
She kept her gaze from lingering on his tongue. “That’s not what happened.” Lie.
“Or maybe he wasn’t fun or sweet. Oh—I know. He was nothing but an overgrown boy scout with the sense of humor of a decorative plant, and you don’t want to admit you went for the wrong guy once again.”
When he was right, she hated him much more than usual, so she gave him the kick in the shin she’d itched to deal Cal.
“Ouch.” Nate leaned down to rub his leg.
She stood and glared down at him. “You’re so wrong, it’s not even funny. I’m seeing Cal again, if you absolutely must know.”
“Liar.”
“I’m going to his party at the Lowell House tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll see you there.”
She sputtered. Why? Why would he go? She never saw him socialize with other students since Bill and Troy graduated. Maybe he was seeing someone on campus. She didn’t care. All she cared about was that her burger lost its flavor when she realized she’d trapped herself into going to that stupid party.
“You can finish this off. I’m not hungry anymore.” She pushed her plate his way and walked away from what could have been a perfectly good dinner.
She ended up fully dressed on her bed, eating crackers and wondering why Nate wouldn’t leave her alone. And why the hell she let him get to her.
And also, how the fuck she’d survive a party with not one but several Cal-minded people.
* * * *
Nate finished up her fries and burger, shooing away mushy kindergarten-crush thoughts like that his mouth was touching what her mouth touched, and how that was like kissing her. Because it wasn’t.
Nothing compared to kissing her—her lips yielding against his, her body inches from his, her scent drowning out the outside world. It was a wonder he managed to withdraw when he did. A heartbeat longer, and she’d have
seen him and probably busted his head.
Or she’d let him explain. And he’d go for it. And she’d give him a chance. And pigs would fly.
Thoughts of Lexi haunted him on the walk home. Was there a way he could approach her after everything he’d said? Was he ready to accept his friendship with Troy was only a memory he refused to let go? Could she ever forgive him for choosing the worst possible way to go about… everything, and then sticking with it?
He said hi to his dad and escaped to his bedroom. It was still early, but his overworked brain craved the oblivion of sleep. He got under the covers and threw an arm over his eyes.
The moonlight seeping in through the blinds reminded him of Eliza’s hair tonight.
Could things stop reminding him of her?
Chapter Nine
“Who thinks Sunday is a good day for a party?” Eliza had gone through her list of Points to Whine About, concerning Cal and Nate, and now focused on the wrongness that was tonight’s party.
Krista had her Maths book on her lap and was turning pages, a bored expression on her face. “This isn’t high school,” she said, as if that explained everything.
Eliza tilted her head to the side.
“I mean, there’s no such thing as school nights and stuff. We can stay out late whenever we want. And have parties on Sundays and… and fall in love with guys wrapped in floral patterns.”
Eliza shot her left eyebrow toward her hairline. “Explain?”
“I think I’ll spend the night at Bill’s.” Krista crossed her arms and looked at Eliza as if challenging her to protest. She’d look way more defiant if she weren’t chewing on her bottom lip.
“How come?”
Krista hung her head, but not before Eliza saw her blush.
Oh. That spending the night. “That's great, Kris. Bill's a great guy. And a lucky one, too.” She winked.
“He is. And I’m sorry that you went out with him first, but it wasn't something I was looking for. It's”—she let out a dramatic sigh—“powerful.”
“Honey, there was nothing ever between me and him, and I couldn’t be happier for you. Unless…” Eliza looked at her fingernails, frowning.
