“You guys are really pissing me off,” I mutter. “It’s not like that, okay? Let’s say I was going to get all soft and squishy over a boy—it certainly wouldn’t be a guy like Fred.”
“Why?” Zoe asks, her laughter cutting off abruptly. “We’ve established that you think he’s cute and you guys get along together. What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem. He’s just…he’s too…nice.”
Hunter rolls his eyes so hard I fear he might pull a muscle. “Oh, please.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just…he’s very safe. There’s not a lot of danger there. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a pretty dangerous girl.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Zoe says drily. “I still haven’t forgotten that time you slapped me.”
I bat my eyelashes at her. “You had it coming.”
“I think a nice, non-dangerous boy might be exactly what you need, to be honest,” Hunter says. He leans into the counter and crosses his arms. “It might be good for you.”
“This conversation is ridiculous,” I mutter. “I’m not going to, like, settle down with Fred. God. It was one night. Besides, have you forgotten the purpose of this evening?” I wave my arms around to encompass the room. “He’s going back to school tomorrow.”
“U of M is only, like, two hours away,” Hunter points out. “Hardly a deal breaker.”
“Well, how’s this for a deal breaker? I’m not interested.”
He must be able to tell how near the end of my rope I am, because he holds up his hands again. “Okay. I’ll drop it. I just think maybe you should consider why you feel so weird about this. If it was anyone else, you’d be joking around about it. You can’t even talk to him. There’s something weird about that, Ells. Don’t tell me there’s not.”
I go to snap a curse at him but something stops me. The truth is, I’ve been feeling like there was something weird about all of this. Why else was I so distracted? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about our night together? It wasn’t like me to re-live my conquests.
I’m saved having to respond by the buzzer going again. “That should be Taylor,” Zoe says, moving to the door to go let her boyfriend (Jet to the rest of us) in.
As she leaves the apartment I tense—if Jet is here does that mean Fred is here, too? I should have known he’d come early. It is his party after all. I return to the chips, my mind racing. What am I going to say to him? Will he be mad at me? Will it be awkward?
I feel heat coming to my face and silently curse myself. Hunter will never shut the hell up about it if he sees me blushing. I grab another bag of chips and move to rip it open, nearly dropping it when the front door opens.
“Hey, Ellie, Hunter,” Jet calls. I peek up from under my hair, and feel my entire body relax. He’s alone. I lift my head the rest of the way to smile at him. Out of the corner of my eye I see Hunter watching me, his eyes narrowed. Damn it. He could probably read my relief as clear as day.
“Where’s Fred?” Hunter asks, his eyes still on me.
“He was finishing up his packing,” Jet says, setting a few bottles of booze down on the counter. “He’ll be over a little later.”
I don’t like the way Hunter is looking at me. I finish setting out the chips and sigh in relief when the buzzer goes again. The sooner our guests arrive, the sooner he’ll be distracted. “I’ll go down,” Jet offers.
“Prop open the door,” Zoe tells him. “I don’t want to have to run down there every few minutes.”
Jet returns with Everett and then our friends Kris and Mary arrive. The party attendees come in a steady stream after that, and I’m too busy greeting people and getting drinks to notice or care if Hunter is still watching. I can do this, I tell myself. I can get through one little party with my friends and the guy I slept with. It’s no big deal.
So why do I feel so uncomfortable?
I get a beer as soon as possible, hoping it will calm me down. When that doesn’t work, I switch to the rum punch. Zoe did good—it’s strong enough to burn going down and not so sweet that I won’t be able to drink a lot of it.
But no matter how warm the booze makes me feel and no matter how many friends soon fill our small apartment with laughter and conversation, I still can’t shake the nerves. He’s going to be here soon and I’m going to have to talk to him. And I’m going to have to do it under the watchful eyes of Hunter and Zoe.
My salvation arrives in the form of our friend Kristin. She makes her entrance about an hour after the party has gotten started, a tall, dark haired guy in a black T-shirt behind her. I’ve seen him around at a few parties this summer. In fact, we flirted for a while at a kegger back in July. It might have amounted to more if I hadn’t had to leave early for a morning shift at the Burrito Barn. He was cute, if a little arrogant. I remember that he had a habit of running his thumb across the stubble on his chin, a motion I found strangely attractive. Mark, his name was. Or was it Marcus?
Within minutes of his arrival I have Mark (I double checked) cornered on the couch. He seems quite eager to be the object of my attention for the night, leaning in close to me while we talk, his eyes constantly darting down to the neckline of my tank top.
I barely even notice when Fred arrives.
Okay, so that’s not entirely true. I notice all right, I just pretend not to. It probably makes me the worst kind of coward that I don’t get up to greet him when he arrives. But he seems pretty well surrounded by friends, so it’s not like I’m leaving him on his own. Besides, it feels a lot safer over here, my attention taken up by Mark, who’s now running his thumb across my chin and grinning. I think I see Fred’s eyes linger on us a few times, but I do my best to ignore it.
I drink a lot.
In fact, by the time the party’s really in full gear, I’ve had so much that I’m starting to feel dizzy. It’s getting harder and harder to keep from meeting Fred’s gaze across the room. There’s a huge part of me that wants to push Mark away and go over to Fred’s side. To apologize to him for being such a brat. To feel his arms around me again, one more time, before he leaves—but no, I can’t think like that.
So when Mark leans in and asks if there’s a quieter place we could go to get to know each other better, I nod and pull him off the couch and toward my room.
“Why don’t you go and get comfortable?” Marks whispers in my ear. “I’m going to go down and have a smoke.”
The idea of a cigarette sounds like just the thing to calm me down, six weeks smoke free or not, but I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to make it down the stairs. Instead I nod, the dizziness nearly overwhelming me, and I go to wait for him in my room. Maybe I can just lie down for a minute. I catch Zoe’s gaze from across the room as I slip into the hall. She looks worried and maybe a little pissed. But then I’m in the darkness of my own room and I don’t have to worry about her, or anyone else, anymore.
“Ellie.”
Fred’s voice is loud behind me, making me jump. I turn to face him and nearly lose my balance. His hand comes out to steady me so fast I almost think I imagined it.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask, confused as to how he got into my room.
“I followed you. You looked pretty unsteady on your feet—I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
My head feels muddled and fuzzy. I was drinking too fast. The unexpected arrival of him, the nearness of him only a foot from my bed, has my heart pounding. “I’m fine.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that.”
“It’s not your problem, Fred,” I say, starting to feel angry. I try to pull my arm away but he’s holding me too tightly. “So you should just go—Mark will be here in just a minute.”
“Are you really going to do this, Ellie?” he asks, his voice harsh in my ear.
“Do what?” I finally succeed in yanking my arm from his grasp.
“You know, you’re a lot of things but I never thought user was one of them.”
I freeze. “What are you
talking about?”
“You are using this guy. We both know it.”
I stare at him, aghast. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re using him to put distance between us because you’re too damn scared to talk about what happened.”
My skin tingles. He’s totally right.
“You’re free to hook up with whoever you want, but, God, Ells. You don’t use people. That’s not you.”
A moment ago I was ready to fight him, to push him away, to claw at him in my anger, but I suddenly feel deflated. Broken. Like all of the worst parts of me are exposed for Fred to see. He’s always been able to see more of me than anyone else. Why?
He must notice something different in my face because he reaches for my arm again, more gently this time. “It doesn’t have to be like this. Why don’t we just talk about it?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit, shaking my head. “I don’t know why I feel like this.”
His eyes bore into mine. “How do you feel?”
“Like I can’t figure out what happened between us. Or why it…I can’t get it out of my head. I’ve felt jumpy and distracted all week, and I don’t know why.”
His face is soft now, looking down at me. “Then why didn’t you just talk to me about it?”
I shake my head. How can I tell him that I was scared? I’m the girl who’s not supposed to be scared of anything.
“Come and sit with me,” he says, pulling me toward the bed.
I look back at the door, unsure. “That guy was going to come back.”
Fred shakes his head. “I told Jet to intercept him, tell him you weren’t feeling well. He won’t bother us.” When I still don’t look convinced he reaches over and locks the door. “There. Safe now.”
It’s silly, but when he pulls me down to the bed, when he rests my head on his chest and wraps his arms around me, that’s exactly how I feel. Safe.
“Ellie, you don’t have to be afraid of me. Or feel awkward about anything that happened.”
It’s easier to talk now, laying here with him. Easier when I don’t have to look at him.
“I know. I guess I was just being…silly?”
My head moves with his chest as he breathes in and out, the movement steady and comforting. “Look,” he says. “I had a really good time the other night.”
“I did, too.”
“And I still like hanging out with you every bit as much as I did before.”
I think about that. I haven’t given him much of a chance this week, but it definitely feels just as comfortable being here with him as it ever did. “Me, too,” I finally agree.
“Then I think you’re overthinking it. We have fun together—in bed and as friends. So why can’t we just do that?”
“Do what?”
“Be friends that sometimes go to bed together.”
I laugh softly. “You make that sound so easy.”
He shrugs beneath my cheek. “Why can’t it be?”
“You’re leaving tomorrow.”
“So? That doesn’t mean we won’t ever see each other. I’ll come back to town to hang out with Jet. We can hang out, too.” He pauses and his next words sound stiffer, less natural. “It’s actually a good thing, isn’t it? If I’m not here all the time that takes the pressure off, right? We can see each other when we see each other and just have fun whenever that is.”
“So we’d be like…fuck buddies?”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a dirty mouth, Ellie Canter?”
“Oh, once or twice.” We both giggle softly.
“I was going to say more like…friends with benefits,” he says. “That is, if you want to.”
I think about that night with Fred. About how amazing he made me feel. About how happy I’d been for those few hours. How I felt entirely comfortable, no need to act tough or put on any kind of show. It should scare me, remembering those things. Maybe it’s the alcohol taking over, lowering my inhibitions. But it doesn’t—in fact, I want more.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I want to.”
He squeezes me a little and when he responds, his voice is a notch deeper. Raspier. It sends a thrill through me. “Good.”
I figure he’ll kiss me now, but he doesn’t. Instead he starts to rub my arm, my shoulder. It feels amazing. For the first time all week I’m calm—no more distraction, no more anxiousness. My focus zeros in on his simple movement, on the feel of his hand on my bare arm and shoulder. On the slight pressure he exerts. My breathing deepens and I realize I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Fred…”
“Yeah, Ells?”
I’m quiet for a moment before I finally sigh. “I’m sorry. You were right—about using that guy.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. Just relax, okay? Just relax.”
It’s impossible to deny him. Not when he’s rubbing my arm like that. Not when I can feel his own breaths deepen through his chest. Not when he’s holding me, tight and gentle at the same time.
The last thing I remember, before I fall asleep, is the feeling of his lips against my forehead as he kisses me goodnight.
Chapter Five
Fred
Morning comes way too fast. I’m awake before the alarm on my phone goes off, watching Ellie sleep on my chest. And yes, I’m completely aware that this makes me the lamest wuss in the history of men, but I don’t care. I’m leaving town in a matter of hours and I have no idea when I’ll get the chance to see her sleeping again.
I’m having trouble processing what happened the night before. I’d been pissed but not entirely surprised to see her flirting with that guy on her couch when I walked into the party. It made sense to me that she would avoid an uncomfortable situation by throwing herself at the first available guy. I was sensing a pattern in her. To be fair, it was none of my business, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to stop her. I hated the idea of her waking up the next morning feeling guilty.
And more than that, I hated the idea of some other guy with his hands on her.
Her words in her room surprised me—that she was scared and she couldn’t stop thinking about us. That she was confused. I sensed just how overwhelmed she was and it made me simultaneously upset for her and triumphant. You don’t feel overwhelmed about a guy that means nothing to you, right?
But that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m leaving in a matter of hours. Once I could see that she was feeling mixed up about me I was determined not to leave her room until I was sure there was some chance, even a small one, that we weren’t going to end completely when I left. Her agreement to be friends with benefits made my chest clench. It was all I could do not to kiss the hell out of her right then and there. I would have, too, if she wasn’t so trashed. But I have no desire to take advantage of her in any way.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I sigh. I have to get up now if I have any chance of getting to school in time to meet my landlord. In all honesty, I should have been up there yesterday, or even Friday. Classes start tomorrow and there’s little chance of me being settled by then.
Ellie shifts against me and I close my eyes. What I wouldn’t give to be able to say screw it, to just stay here with her all afternoon.
At least she hasn’t completely shot you down, I remind myself. She left you a chance. It will just be up to you to make the most of it.
I kiss her forehead lightly and try to slide out from under her without waking her. I manage to get to the edge of the bed before her eyelids flutter open.
“Fred?”
I love that she doesn’t look confused by my presence. Even with all she had to drink last night, it’s like she expects me to be here.
“Good morning,” I tell her, leaning across the bed to kiss her. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You have to go already?”
Is that disappointment on her face? I nod. “Yeah. I have to get down there by three in order to get my keys, and I still have to pack up the truck.”
She nods, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
I cross my arms. “If I call you tonight to wish you luck on your interview tomorrow, are you going to answer the phone?”
She makes a big show out of thinking about it, but the glint in her eyes tells me that she’s teasing. I grab a pillow from the bed and toss it at her and she laughs.
“Yes, I’ll answer.” A strange expression comes over her face. “How did you know that I had an interview tomorrow?”
“You told me last week.”
The expression doesn’t go away. She looks like she’s trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure what. “And you remembered?”
I shrug. “It’s important to you. I hope it goes well.”
She shakes her head slightly. “You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t hold it against me.”
Her face finally relaxes and she smiles at me. “I won’t.”
I lean in to kiss her again, cursing when the alarm on my phone buzzes again. “I have to go.”
“Drive careful.”
I cross to the door, pausing before opening it to look back at her again. She’s watching me, that same inscrutable expression on her face. But she smiles back at me and returns my wave, so I try not to worry too much about what she’s thinking as I make my way to the front door of the apartment.
***
Jet meets me at my parent’s house two hours later to help me load up the truck. I answer his knock on the front door to find him standing on the porch, sunglasses on, holding a pink and black zebra striped thermal mug in his hand. I raise my eyebrows and look pointedly at the mug.
“Fuck off,” he says by way of greeting. “It was the only portable option at Zoe’s and I was going to die if I didn’t have coffee.”
I hold up my hands. “I’m not judging your aesthetic choices, buddy.”
“How are you so chipper?” he asks, slipping his sunglasses down his nose a bit to look at me. “Weren’t you drinking last night?”
“Not much, to be honest.”
Escape With You Page 4
