Dean Wassak is a tall, slender man with a receding hairline and the fashion sense of Sherlock Holmes. He’s always in weird, old English three-piece suits and I wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a monocle at some point. He’s sitting behind his massive desk, looking like a string bean compared to the palatial wooden furniture all around his office.
“Ah, Ms. Kenner, come in. Have a seat.”
He points to one of two chairs across from his desk, but doesn’t rise. It’s a power move, one I recognize from my father doing it countless times, and I shrug it off. I sit, reminding myself to keep impeccable posture and never to lose eye contact. If this old dude is about to throw me out on my ass, I’m not going down without a fight.
“The last time we met, it was under very unfortunate circumstances.” He eyes me wearily.
Right. The last time I was in his office, I was dripping wet in little more than a T-shirt. “Yes. I sincerely apologize about that.”
“I don’t like seeing my students in distress, much less ones who have an active social life on campus and will go on to carry the Salem Walsh name prominently into the world.”
What he’s saying is that I come from money, and he wants the college on my résumé when I start job hunting.
“I can assure you, Dean Wassak, I’ve been keeping my nose clean and focusing on my studies.”
His stern blue eyes assess me.
“I’m aware of that. With that being said, I don’t see why, if you can’t finish out this semester with a 3.8 GPA or higher at the community college, you can’t come back as a full-time Salem Walsh undergrad next semester.”
I honestly don’t even believe my ears. I sit in stunned silence for a few moments, because I don’t want to look like a moron and ask him to repeat himself.
“Sir … thank you. I’m so appreciative. What … I’m so thankful, but is there something that has happened?”
He swivels a bit in his high-back leather chair. “I’ve been keeping my eye on you, Ms. Kenner, and I’m impressed. You really seem to have turned it around from your previous semesters here at Salem. You haven’t been written up once by campus police, have attended every class at the community college, and seem to be thriving with your grades. I’m not a cruel man, as much as people would like to make me out to be that way. I reward behavior that is exemplary.”
A breath of pride fills my chest, because it’s nice to hear that someone appreciates my efforts. “Thank you, Dean.”
“Plus, you’re from one of our brightest families and longest legacies. You deserve to be here, and I think the incident last school year really served to change your attitude and behavior.”
My heart sinks a little. So, this is only partially because of my acceptance of the punishment and how well I’ve been doing. I haven’t thought about it before, but I wonder how much my father has been pressuring Dean Wassak to lift my suspension and admit me as a student again. Now that I think about it, I would have never scored this much luck on my own. This had to have been a big boost from my father pressing his foot down upon the dean’s neck.
At first, I want to rebuff his offer. I want to tell him I’ll stay on the suspension for the entire year, because damn it if my father is going to be the one to win yet another battle for me. I’ve been working hard on my own, making sure I stay on the straight and narrow, and there is a chip on my shoulder.
But then I realize that chip does no one any good. How incredible would it be to have the weight of the suspension off my shoulders? To not have to lie to my best friends anymore? I could come back and take the much higher level courses offered at Salem and possibly score a big time internship for the summer. I wouldn’t have to explain to any company hiring me for those three months about what my education situation was.
“Thank you, Dean. I am going to keep my grades up and hope to be able to transition back to Salem Walsh in the spring.”
He nods, all but dismissing me. “Very well, we’ll catch up after your finals. Please give your father my best.”
It’s my cue to leave, and I take it. I walk out of his office both elated and a touch disappointed. Even though my name and my background may have granted me this streak of luck, I was going to use it to carve my own path.
I’m determined now, more than ever, to get out from under my father’s shadow.
32
Jolie
Mick sits on my bed, flipping through the channels on my TV, as I curl my hair in the mirror above my dresser.
“Oh, this movie is great. You ever seen it?” he asks, lounging back on my pillows.
I peer over to see Denzel Washington in Inside Man. “Yes, such a good one.”
“If I were ever to pull off a bank heist, that’s the way I’d do it.” He nods, self-assuredly.
I roll my eyes. “I could barely get you to have sex with me in a completely empty laboratory. I don’t think bank robbing is really going to be on your docket.”
He tosses one of my pink throw pillows at me. “You never know. Can’t you see me as the bad boy?”
I look over my shoulder, the locks I’ve already curled moving with the motion, and scrutinize him. “Um, no. And I like it that way. The nerd in you turns me on.”
“So come over here and show me.” His legs fall apart.
“No, we’re going out.” I pout.
Mick snorts. “You can keep saying it, but as soon as you head to the party, I’m going back to the dorms to sleep.”
I make a whining noise in the back of my throat, protesting. I’ve been trying to convince him all night that he should come out to this party with me, and he keeps refusing. We never go out together, but I have things to celebrate and I want my guy to come get drunk with me.
“Come on, come out with me. I passed my biology final! We have to celebrate that, and the fact that I could be a Salem Walsh student again by next semester.”
I hadn’t yet taken all of my finals, but my biology final grade was posted earlier today, and I’d gotten an A minus, which means I passed the course. If I could pull a couple more rabbits out of my hat, I’d be a Salem Walsh student next semester. I wouldn’t ever have to hide my schedule from Christine and Madison. In fact, they’d never have to know. I could spend more time with Mick since I wouldn’t have to be running back and forth between campuses.
And it would be a weight of guilt and shame off my soul.
“I won’t be any fun, you really don’t want me to come.” Mick shakes his head.
The last lock of my hair falls through the curling iron, a perfect ringlet, and then I brush the whole thing out with my hands. Sauntering over to the bed in nothing more than my robe, I straddle his lap.
“Yes, you will. And yes, I really do want you to come.”
Mick’s sparkling green eyes heat to a deep olive color, and I know he’s entranced. “You really want me to?”
“Let your hair down, Mr. Science. We both deserve it.” I kiss him chastely.
Thirty minutes later, my Pub table group walks up the steps of one of the many sports houses on campus. We plan to start here and then travel down to the bars later on. I keep forgetting we can do that now that we’re legal, because for so long it was water bottles full of vodka at house parties.
And Mick’s hand is holding mine, my guy just one of our crew members. Granted, he’s in his favorite dark jeans and an Apple logo T-shirt, but at least I got him out to a party.
“Let’s start with shots.” I smile deviously at him as soon as we walk in.
“It’s your night, I’m just the puppet.” He shrugs.
After his confession in the library, it feels like he’s let his guard all the way down with me. He trusts me more than ever before, and I’m going to nurture that like it’s a fragile egg I can’t drop.
His secret, all the stress he’s been carrying around … it still shocks me. I can’t believe that this man, so young in age, has taken on such a heavy and complicated role in his family’s life already. I said it to him, but that
kind of love and loyalty is unheard of in my family, and it’s emotional to see. I can’t get his expression out of my memory, that distraught, faraway look that said all he wanted to do was fix the problem.
My heart aches for his poor mother, dealing with all of this, and especially for his Dad. I can’t imagine being diagnosed with a disease that steals everything from you. Mick’s drive to find a cure is admirable, but I also worry. Will it devour him? He’s already so dedicated and hyper-intelligent, so to hear him stress about everything on his plate just concerns me.
It’s why I want him to let go of a little restraint tonight. I find two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey, knowing he prefers it over vodka, and pour them out.
“To celebrating.” I clink my glass against his.
Mick smirks and then tosses it back. “Ugh, Jesus, I don’t know how people do this more than once.”
I cackle. “Well, get ready, because we’re about to do another.”
I pour us two more, and we down them. The alcohol pulses through my blood, heating me and making everything tingle. I’m ready to get into some shenanigans, though tamer ones than I usually participate in. I’m with Mick, and I’m happy he’s here, but I’ll keep the training wheels on this hot mess express for him.
“You want to play flip cup?” I suggest, spotting a table across the room.
Mick shrugs. “Sure, why not. I’m not very good, but it should be fun.”
I take his hand and weave us through the crowded party. We join the game, and in the first two rounds lose terribly. I don’t mind, it means we get to drink more. And the more we drink, the more giggly I get and the more handsy Mick gets.
“You’re beautiful.” He smiles down at me some time later when we’re grinding our bodies together on the dance floor.
“And you’re hot.” I run a fingertip down his chest.
He ducks his head to whisper in my ear. “I’m serious, you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
My heart beats rapidly, and my spine tingles with him being so close. “You’re making me blush.”
“Good. The only thing I ever want to make you feel is cherished.” He lands a kiss on the outside of my ear.
It’s an interesting choice of words, because he doesn’t say something that has to do with my appearance. Cherished implies a deeper connection, a bigger feeling. It’s almost along the same lines as … love.
“You do. Every day you do.” I’m dead serious.
There we are, drunk in the middle of the dance floor at a house party, having the most serious conversation about us that we’ve had so far.
“I know I don’t tell you often how much I care about you, but I do. I care about you more than anyone. Sometimes I don’t think we need all that romance. I’m a practical guy, and you’re a very confident woman. But I want you to know that. I …” Mick pulls back so that I can look in his eyes.
He’s about to say it, I know he is. Mick is about to tell me he loves me. But suddenly, we’re shoved from behind by some rowdy assholes, and we tangle in each other as we shove the people behind us accidentally.
“Whoops.” I giggle, as he helps me right myself.
“You okay?” Mick asks, and I see the seriousness still lingering in his eyes.
“I’m good. I feel like we need another drink!”
I’m scared, and I’m masking my feelings with the fun, cool girl persona I’ve always used as a crutch. If Mick tells me he loves me, I’m not going to be able to hold back from telling him the same. And even though we’ve come so far, I’m still terrified of that.
Mick lets me lead him back to the room where the alcohol is, and my hand seems to tremble in his. We’re on the edge of the deepest commitment I’ve ever made to someone, and I’m just about ready for the fall.
Just give me one more night of fun.
33
Mick
The moment I open my eyes, I know something is wrong.
It’s just that gut check, the one that feels like someone has socked you right in the pit of your stomach.
For starters, my mouth tastes like rotting fish, and my head is pounding as if I’ve been hitting it with a hammer all night. I’ve never really had a hangover, and this one is manageable as I try to sort through the fog of it, but I feel like absolute garbage.
When I roll over, trying to grab for a water, I see my phone. It lights up, and the time burns my retina.
7:20 a.m.
“Oh, shit!” I yelp, shooting straight up in Jolie’s bed.
I fell asleep here last night after we stumbled home drunk, making love until the early hours of the morning. When Jolie convinced me to go out last night, I hadn’t meant to get so wasted, but it felt so relieving to just let go for a few hours. With each shot she poured, with each game of pong and each song pumping through my veins on the dance floor, my problems seemed to melt away.
That’s the issue with self-medicating though, whenever you come down, the crash is always worse than the initial place or problem you were in.
I stumble over a shoe here, a purse there, and frantically search the ground for my clothes. I’m expected to be in the lab with Dr. Richards to go over test samples in ten minutes, and there is no way I’ll make it there on time.
“Mick, what …” Jolie’s hair falls over her face as she leans up on her elbow. I woke her from where she was just sleeping on her stomach, and I can tell she’s confused.
“I’m going to be late for my internship!” I hiss, annoyed at the entire morning.
I’m pissed off I slept late, I’m pissed off I went to that party, I’m pissed off that I could be so irresponsible when something so big is on the line. I promised Dr. Richards I could handle the internship with everything else I have going on, and now I’m going to let him down.
“What’s the big deal? Come on, you’re only going to be ten minutes late if you leave now.” Jolie flips over in bed, smiling at me without a care in the world.
“You would say that,” I mumble, shaking my head as I flit around the room like an angry wasp.
And something about her flippant attitude stings right under the surface of my skin. There she is, lounging in bed way past the time I get up every day, without any responsibilities or anyone to be beholden to.
“Huh?” Now Jolie sits fully up, puzzled. “What does that mean?”
I yank my shirt off the floor. “You know what it means.”
“Actually, I don’t. I get that you’re late, but I didn’t make you sleep in. Don’t snap at me for something you’re mad at yourself about.” She gives me attitude, and now I’m seething.
“No, you just dragged me out to a party I didn’t want to go to, and now are jeopardizing my internship,” I shoot back.
Jolie’s mouth falls open. “Are you freaking kidding me? We had a good time last night, and I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to. It’s okay to be late for once in your perfect life, Mick.”
The wire on the ticking time bomb that is my temper just about expires.
“You’re a bad influence, Jolie! You parade around campus like some rich girl who has no responsibilities, and that’s fine for you. But the rest of us have people counting on us, and goals to achieve, and we can’t just spend Daddy’s money and have him fix our problems.”
I’m so mad now, I’m shaking as I pull on my clothes. I try to fix my hair as best I can in her mirror and grab my backpack.
I’m stomping through the house now, picking up my stuff as I go. One of my textbooks is on the kitchen table, my keys on the counter next to my student ID.
“You’re seriously going to say that to me? You’re being an asshole. I didn’t force you to go out!” Jolie shouts at me, her white lacy nightie strap hanging off her shoulder.
I snort. “No, you just held the first shot glass to my lips and then promised sex. That’s what you do, flaunt your curves and bat your eyelashes to get what you want!”
My blood boils as anger simmers within ev
ery muscle. I’m not seeing straight, and my fury is making me lash out, but I can’t stop. I’m so fucking pissed at myself, at her, for breaking our initial agreement. We weren’t supposed to fall into this; I told her from the start that I had serious goals and personal matters I needed to focus on. I promised myself I wouldn’t become involved with her, and I knew that this was a possibility. I got too wrapped up in Jolie, in her aura, and I let myself be persuaded.
Just ten minutes is a big deal to me.
“You’re being an asshole! You’re late, suck it up, Mick. It happens to us mere mortals all the time. I’ve never been anyone but myself with you, and you saying that, it really …”
Jolie trails off, looking away from me, and I swear I hear her sniffle. Great, now she’s crying.
“It really hurts. Let the freaking grips off your reins for a minute, apologize for being late, and that’s the end of it. You’re acting like a child!” Tears drip down her cheeks as she turns back to me.
And that’s when I snap. Because she keeps insisting that the life I live is too rigid, too focused. She’s the only one who knows how much I have to keep my nose down to get what my family needs, and she’s acting like it’s a casual lunch or something I’m running late for.
“The only child in this room is you.” I point to her. “Going out every night of the week, when your future is on the line, too. No wonder you’re in community college! Jolie Kenner, the girl with no obligations whose daddy will solve every mess. And even if he can’t, you still can’t seem to get your act together. I’m not going to let you take me down with you!”
A gasp comes from the other side of the kitchen, and I turn to see her roommates standing there. I realize, far too late, what I just said. What I just did. My stomach plummets, and a wave of enormous nausea slams into me.
“Jolie …” My face must be a mask of sheer panic as I try to reach for her.
She shoulders away, wrapping her arms around herself. “Get the hell out.”
“I didn’t, that wasn’t—”
Nerdy Little Secret Page 15
