#Selfie
Page 9
“Rimmel wants to have dinner sometime soon. You up for that?”
“Of course!” She beamed. “I like her. She’s a sweet girl.”
“She likes you, too.”
“So tell me,” Mom probed. “When are you gonna bring a girl like that home to meet me?”
“Now why would I want to go and do that?” I drawled. “Then I’d have to share all your cooking.”
After we hugged and said good night, I went out and climbed in the truck. I tossed the bag beside me on the seat and blew out a breath. What the fuck had he called for? Why now? What could he possibly want?
I started up the truck and gunned the engine, listening to the sweet sound of the V8. My truck wasn’t pretty like the Hellcat, but it was full of testosterone. And even though I’d never tell Romeo, I knew damn well my beast could roll right over the Cat and still have a hundred thousand miles in him.
I gunned the gas one last time for good measure and prepared to back up. When I turned to look out the back window, I noticed the bag of food had fallen over and the containers were spilling out across the seat.
I picked them up and restacked them in the bag.
That’s when I saw it.
Instead of throwing it away like she should have, Mom tossed the folded piece of paper inside. I stared at it for a few minutes and then snatched it up.
When it was unfolded, I stared down at my mother’s handwriting.
Your father called. He wants you to call him back.
Beneath the words was a phone number I didn’t recognize.
I crumpled it up and threw it on the floorboards of the truck.
Fuck that. Calling him was the last thing on earth I’d ever do.
Chapter Twelve
Ivy
Ah the tangled webs we weave.
I have no idea who said it. I have no idea where I heard it. But it was the only thing in my head as I dragged my ass out of bed.
Hey, I might be a zombie, but I could still rhyme.
(Head + bed… Never mind.)
The first week back from spring break had been long and arduous. I swear the professors knew we were all still partially hung-over and depressed the time off was over, so they wanted to further our torment by assigning even more work than normal.
School really wasn’t my thing.
Socializing, checking out what everyone was wearing that day, and walking around campus… I liked all that. But I could do without the coursework.
It didn’t help that I had no idea what I was majoring in. Here I was almost a junior in college and still had no direction. My parents liked to remind me how much they were paying for me to “find myself” every chance they got.
I liked to remind them they told me I had to go to college.
Even so, declaring a major was something I was going to have to do. I just wasn’t ready to commit to any one thing. Any one job. There were so many things out there that seemed interesting. I did know what I didn’t want to do.
I didn’t want to sit behind a desk.
I didn’t want to wear boring pantsuits and stuffy blouses.
I didn’t want to be at the mercy of a boss who liked to tell me what to do.
And I sure as hell didn’t want one of those nine-to-five, forty-hour week life sentences.
My criteria ruled out a lot.
But it didn’t really point me in any direction.
I groaned as I tossed one of the many pillows onto the heap of blankets half spilling onto the floor. It was too early to think about this. I’d do it later.
After coffee.
After I saw Braeden.
I groaned again. Thoughts of him weren’t allowed. Hell, if I thought I could get out of our usual pancake breakfast without a million and one questions from Rimmel and Missy, I wouldn’t go. Why did I even agree to weekend pancakes? Sundays were supposed to be for sleeping in!
Okay, it was already after ten.
I guess it wasn’t that early.
Rimmel spent the night with Romeo last night, so I had the room to myself this morning. After I made a trip to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and brushed my teeth, I came back and walked around in my panties and bra.
Hey, it wasn’t every day a girl had her dorm room all to herself.
As I was rummaging through my drawers for something to wear, I saw something I shoved in there and “forgot” about. I didn’t really. I pretended I forgot about it when really, I looked at it every single time I got dressed.
Pathetic. That’s what I was.
I should get rid of it. But I knew I wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. It made me feel… Well, I don’t know how it made me feel.
I slammed the drawer closed and yanked open another. I was so not in the mood to get cute this morning. This week had been tough, and I was exhausted.
Aside from the heavy classwork and the pressure I was suddenly feeling to pick a major—and a direction for my life—my brain never shut off. Like ever. I thought about Braeden. I thought about Missy. I even thought about Trent.
I definitely avoided them all. It was quite the task trying to avoid people you had deliberately made part of your life.
It was exhausting.
And so were the dreams.
But I wasn’t going to think about any of that.
I was going to get dressed, smile, and eat pancakes.
When it was done I could hide out in the room the rest of the day and watch makeup tutorials online.
I loved doing makeup. I loved watching other people do makeup. There was something peaceful and mind-clearing about starting with a blank canvas—a fresh face—and enhancing its natural beauty.
I glanced at the clock. I was late. So I did something I never did.
I threw on a pair of sweatpants. Yes, they were the cute kind. Fitted but a little slouchy. They were hot pink with wide pockets slashing across the hips. The bottoms sported wide bands and hugged my ankles.
On top, I threw on a white tank and a black T-shirt. It was cotton, but it draped and felt like silk. I tucked just the front of it in so the waist tie was exposed and didn’t look lumpy beneath the hem of the shirt.
The only makeup I bothered with was some cherry-flavored lip-gloss and some mascara. My hair was in a messy bun high on my head, with a few strands falling out around my neck and face. I left it that way and added a pair of gold aviator sunglasses like a headband.
On my way out the door, I grabbed my oversized Michael Kors bag and shoved my bare feet into a pair of slip-on Sketchers. The diner we always met at wasn’t far from campus and it only took a few minutes to get there. The sun was bright and the sky was blue as I walked through the full lot and through the glass door.
At least the weather was warming up. Spring was good; it was happy.
Rimmel waved from a table across the room when I stepped inside. I was the last one here, and there was an extra person sitting at the table. Trent.
I smiled and waved as I made my way through the crowd and noted the look in Missy’s eyes. She totally invited Trent. And I bet the reason the only empty seat at the table was beside him was her doing, too.
On the other side of Trent was Missy. On her other side was Braeden. I avoided looking at him. To his right was Rimmel and then Romeo. I took the seat between Romeo and Trent.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said and picked up the menu. “I overslept.”
“You look good,” Trent told me, offering a smile.
I smiled back at him. “Thanks. I was in such a hurry, I barely looked in the mirror.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” Braeden cracked.
There was a loud thud beneath the table. “Ow!” he groaned. “Rome, you better get your girl. She kicked me!”
Rimmel snickered and so did I.
The waitress came, and all of us ordered. When my coffee arrived, I took a sip and moaned in appreciation.
“Good stuff,” Trent remarked, leaning close to speak only to me.
“You have no idea,” I agr
eed. “Is it just me or are the professors trying to punish us for spring break?”
Trent laughed and leaned back in his seat. As he moved, he flung out both his arms so one rested on the back of my chair and the other on Missy’s. “Oh, they are in total annihilation mode.”
“I’m definitely not going to miss the work load next semester,” Romeo said.
“I’m gonna miss you,” Rimmel said.
He kissed her on the temple and yanked her chair so it was right up against his. “I’ll still be around.” He promised.
It was kind of hard to believe next semester Romeo wouldn’t be here. He’d be a pro football player. I’d gotten used to having him around. When he first got involved with Rimmel, I wasn’t sure how we’d get along, but as time went on, I could honestly say he was my friend. I liked Romeo, I liked him a lot, and I really respected him.
I hoped he could say the same about me. Even though deep down I wondered if I deserved his respect.
We chattered on about classes, the latest Buzz notifications, and, of course, football until our food arrived. When my pancakes were finally in front of me, my stomach growled like it hadn’t seen food in a week.
“Someone’s hungry,” Trent teased and shoved an entire slice of bacon in his mouth.
“I’m not the only one,” I shot back.
He grinned and bacon stuck out of his teeth.
I laughed and shook my head. I felt something cold from across the table so I glanced up. Braeden was watching me. Watching us.
Our eyes connected, and for a split second, I was jolted with electricity no one else seemed to feel. I looked away quickly. This was the first I’d seen Braeden since we came back from spring break. I was hoping whatever seemed to unleash itself between us at the beach would be gone.
But it wasn’t.
If anything, it seemed harder not to look in his direction.
“So what’s up with you, Ivy?” Missy asked as she took a drink of her OJ.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve barely seen you this week.”
“I haven’t seen you at all,” Trent added.
“Like I said, classes this week have been insane. I have so much work. I’ve been busy trying to get a jumpstart on it all. With finals at the end of the semester, I want to get a lot of the work out of the way early.”
Rimmel was nodding. “Me too. I’ve been in the library a lot.”
“You look tired,” Missy pressed.
“I’m not wearing makeup,” I countered.
Braeden dropped his fork, and everyone looked at him. “Let’s just cut to the chase. You look like shit, you haven’t been butting into everyone’s lives, and Missy wants to know why.”
“I’ve just been busy,” I said hard. I told myself his assessment of the way I looked didn’t hurt my feelings (even though it totally did). “And enjoying a week free of you.”
Rimmel changed the subject, and the guys started talking football again. I picked at my food; I wasn’t as hungry as I thought after all.
A few minutes later, Trent leaned close, putting his lips almost against my ear. “You definitely do not look like shit.”
My lips curled into a smile. I glanced at him. “You don’t have to say that.”
“I know.”
It was silly, but his kindness made me feel better. “Thank you.”
I felt Braeden watching us, but I didn’t take the bait. The second I looked at him, I’d be vulnerable. He would say something asswipe-ish, and I’d get my feelings hurt. Again.
Usually, I was stronger, but not this morning. This morning I was just tired and, yeah, maybe a little depressed.
Missy started talking to him, taking his attention, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“So there’s a frat party at the house this Friday,” Trent said. He was directing his words at me but speaking loud enough for everyone else to hear. “You guys game?”
“Sounds like fun,” Missy replied.
“I don’t know,” I hedged. The thought of going back to that house made my stomach turn. I set down my fork and quit pretending to eat. “Maybe.”
“You know I would, man, but some of your guys there still hold a grudge about everything that went down with Zach.”
A sour taste in my mouth erupted at the mention of his name.
Trent nodded. “I’d keep them contained, but I totally understand.”
“Maybe we can all go out Saturday night instead?” Missy suggested and looked at Braeden.
“What d’ya have in mind, Miss?” he asked.
“Screamerz?”
“I had fun last time we went,” Rimmel remarked.
Romeo got this smug look on his face, and I wondered why. When Rim glanced up at him, she blushed, and I knew they were sharing some kind of private moment they must have had at the club.
They were so in sync. They didn’t even have to speak to hold a conversation. I longed for that.
“What do you think?” Trent asked me, a twinkle in his eye.
I smiled. “Sure, it sounds fun.”
“After another week of classes, we’re gonna need a round of Smurf Balls,” Missy said.
Braeden and Romeo groaned. The memory of the guys tossing back the blue drinks was still hilarious.
The rest of the breakfast was blissfully uneventful, but I was still glad when it was time to go. Out in the parking lot, I climbed into my car and expelled a long breath. I waved at Romeo as he drove past and then did the same with Trent and Missy.
I was about to pull out of my spot when a big red truck pulled up and stopped in front of me, blocking my car’s path.
I glared at him through the windshield, and he smirked. Seconds later, he jumped down and came over to the driver’s side.
I rolled down the window. “Move your hunk of junk!”
“Woman, don’t you know better than to insult a man’s truck?”
“Don’t you know better than to tell a woman she looks like shit?” Ah! I wished I could snatch those words back the second they left my mouth. I basically just admitted what he said hurt me. Admissions like that gave a guy like him too much power.
He stopped and rocked back on his heels. “That pricked your infallible armor, did it?”
“What do you want, Braeden?”
“There’s something you need to know.” The serious tone in his voice perked me up.
“What is it?”
He stepped forward and rested his hands on the windowsill of my door. When he leaned in, his eyes reminded me of the coffee I drank before I added in some cream. The dark depths of his stare swept over my face, sort of like he was taking inventory, making sure it was all still there.
“I thought you should know,” he began. His hair seemed a little longer than usual, a little more unruly. My fingers itched to delve into the wayward strands, to feel the silky texture against my palm.
“That I still don’t like you.”
It took a moment for his words to penetrate the spell he’d cast on me. But once they did, I wanted to smack him.
I settled for whacking his hand with an empty CD case from the seat next to me.
“Ow!” he howled, jerking back.
“I still don’t like you either!” I snapped and rolled up the window.
Braeden didn’t seem the least bit put off. If anything, he seemed proud he annoyed me. I watched him walk back to his truck and hoist himself inside.
I didn’t notice the way his Levi’s molded around his tight rear end as he walked.
Before he drove away, he looked back one last time.
I ignored him.
Chapter Thirteen
Braeden
Fucking sweatpants.
They were tricky little bastards. Meant for comfort, meant for laziness, meant for making a guy’s eye move right on by.
But that isn’t what they did.
I’d never seen Ivy so dressed down before. Usually, she was on point with her style and outfits. I’m surpri
sed she even owned a pair of sweatpants.
When the minutes ticked by and she didn’t arrive at breakfast, I started to wonder if she was coming. I hadn’t seen her at all since we got back from spring break. Not that I’d been looking for her. But if she was avoiding me, I wanted to know. I needed to be prepared to explain to Rimmel why her BFF wasn’t hanging around so much anymore.
Just when I began concocting crazy but slightly believable lies for my sis, Ivy breezed through the door, late, and I swear at least three guys’ heads swiveled to check out the way she strutted through the pancake house with those bright-pink sweats molded to her fine ass.
Day-um.
No one was overlooking the girl who didn’t try this morning. In fact, more people were looking than I cared to admit.
She was sexy as hell with her hair all a mess, sunglasses perched on her head, barely-there makeup, and an outfit that said she was sexy without even trying to be.
I didn’t notice she looked a little tired until Missy pointed it out. It made me curious about what was going on with her.
Since when did I care about her life?
She acted like she normally did, meaning barely glancing in my direction. It wasn’t anything new, but my inner reaction to it was.
I didn’t like it.
In fact, it kinda pissed me off.
Watching Trent whisper in her ear half the damn morning wasn’t my idea of mealtime ambience either. I was just glad it was over.
Because last week had been full of everyone getting back into the swing of things—AKA Rimmel lived in the library—dinner with my mom got put off. Not that I was heartbroken or anything. Honestly, I wasn’t anxious to go home. I knew Mom would ask me about the message from my father. She’d want to know if I called him.
I’m pretty sure hell was still ablaze with sinners and brimstone, so yeah, no. I didn’t call. I wasn’t going to.
Why she even seemed inclined to imply I should shocked the hell out of me.
I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I wanted to forget.
I’d been trying to do a lot of that lately.
I couldn’t hide from my mom forever, and I did ask her to dinner, so when Rimmel texted to set something up, I couldn’t say no. When I called Mom to see if she was still up for it, I felt guilty for staying away so long. She offered to make us all a home-cooked meal and said how much she was looking forward to it.