I’m not so sure about that. “Her name’s Maggie, and she’s different.”
“Well, I hope so, for your sake since you’ve put her up on this pedestal.”
I smack his face, not hard but not easy. “Don’t be a dick. I’m too dressed up to fight you.”
He rubs his cheek and pats me on the back. “Okay, go. Get out of here. Take care of my baby.” He means Sadie. I jingle the keys and thank him.
Unfortunately, I step into the hallway at the same time as my day-one-of-college-mistake, Suzi-with-an-I. I grit my teeth and try not to make eye contact.
It doesn’t work. “Hey, Dave. Wow, you look hot. Where you going?”
“Just have some things to do. What are you up to tonight?” She looks like she’s on her way to film a porn. Everything’s tight and severe.
“The Study for dollar beer night. Come later. Then I’ll make you come later.” She purrs at me like a cat.
“Okay, maybe.” I sing the words, moving away from her. I have zero intention of ever touching Suzi-with-an-I again.
As I walk to the basement, I hate myself for that first week. In the span of a few days, I managed to have sex with Suzi, and I’m pretty sure I did it with her roommate Amber, and maybe even both of them at the same time. Drunken, stupid sex. I’m not even clear on whether I wore a condom. The next week, I went to the Health Center to get checked out and, luckily, all tests came back negative.
What was I thinking? “I wasn’t thinking.” I talk to myself in the stairwell and my voice echoes. Not with my brain, anyway.
Since September and that first week of sex and debauchery, I’ve been off women. It’s kind of nice to reclaim my body and take control. The last two years of high school, I partied, made my way through the entire cheering squad, and charmed my way to a C-plus average. When I carried that attitude into freshman year here, to that crazy first week with Suzi and whomever else, I thought that would be my life.
Then I saw Maggie.
And then Frank got shot.
Since then, I’ve had a new attitude. Suzi’s still aggressive, but Amber’s quieted down a bit and doesn’t hang on campus much anymore. Everyone’s dealing with what happened in their own way.
As for me, at Frank’s memorial service, I promised to live a clean, healthy existence. By then, it was too late to save the semester. I gave up on classes and now I’m on academic probation. But this semester I want to do better, especially if Maggie’s going to know me.
I remember seeing her at Frank’s service with Winston. They leaned on each other and moved together like they were one person. That day though, I wasn’t jealous. I was happy she had someone to lean on, physically and emotionally. It blows my mind that the imbecile would dump her, on Valentine’s Day according to the rumors. I’d love the opportunity to kick the shit out of him for being so damn stupid.
The basement is quiet as I walk to room three. My stomach cramps, and I start to sweat. Thank God I used almost an entire stick of deodorant. What the fuck is wrong with me?
In an attempt to psyche myself up before I knock on her door, I shake my arms and bounce in my shoes. I’m Dave Novak. Girls love me. I can do this. With a deep breath, I tap my fist on the door.
Maggie flings it open, mid-laugh, with her phone to her ear and says, “I’ll call you back tomorrow.” She drops the phone to her side, and our date begins. I try not to hyperventilate as she stands there, all gorgeous and smiley.
Her lips are pink and shiny, and her little black mole decorates her flushed cheek. She’s wearing makeup and her hair is down, lying in waves, except for a little piece she twisted off her face in the front. She looks me up and down. “Hi.”
My heart skips about twenty beats, and I could swear fireworks are exploding somewhere in Sheridan. “Hi.” I concentrate on breathing. In, out, in, out. I remember my practice round earlier. The three words. Say them, Novak.
“You. Look. Beautiful.”
Her smile widens. “Thanks. You look great too. I wasn’t sure where we’re going. Am I dressed okay?”
I brave a glance down her body. She’s wearing a tight top, which I don’t even attempt to enjoy. I notice my beads around her neck, and then pink shirt, and then, leg, oh my God, short skirt, skin, cowboy boots? I can’t. I quickly look up at her big, blue eyes.
“Perfect. You look perfect.” Then she smiles, and my insides crumble. I have no idea how I’ll make it through this date. “Um, are you, you know, ready to go?”
“Sure.”
I wait in the hallway for her to grab her bag and lock up. In, out, in, out, I remind myself to breathe. She walks ahead of me, and I grin and sneak a fist pump as I follow the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen out of Sheridan Hall.
Freaking cowboy boots in New Jersey? I think I’m in love.
Chapter 4
Maggie
Much to my dismay, Dave may be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen as he leads me across the parking lot to his roommate’s car. I wish he’d be a jerk so I can go back to hating them all. Enjoy being worshipped, Megan had said. I have no idea if Dave worships me, or what his story is, but since I’m his for the night, I guess I’ll go with it.
He walks to the passenger door of a fairly new Mercedes and holds the button for the keyless entry. He opens the door for me. Tonight, his eyes look more green than brown, maybe because he’s wearing a thin, greenish sweater over his shirt. Remembering that night at The Study when he was shirtless, singing over the crowd of groupies in front of the stage, warms me from head to toe. The boy has a bod under all those layers. I practically feel my hormones stirring to the surface.
I’m halfway into the passenger seat when I hear it.
Meow.
I freeze, one leg out and one leg in, and tilt my head to concentrate on the sounds around me.
Dave’s waiting to shut the door. “Are you okay?”
I hold a finger out to silence him.
Meow, meow.
Now that I’m sure I’ve heard it, I walk toward the sound.
Meow.
“Maggie?” Dave calls behind me. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head to ease his worry then hold my finger over my lips. I need him to stay quiet to hear it. Kneeling on the ground, I stick my head close to the asphalt to see under the cars.
Meow.
“Um…” I look up to see Dave standing over me, confusion plastered on his face.
“Shh,” I say. “Listen.”
Meow.
Dave jerks his head. “Is that a cat?”
“We have to find it.” I don’t have a chance of enjoying this date if I’m worried about a stray kitten in our parking lot.
“We do?”
I stand and brush off my skirt, raising my eyebrows and dipping my chin like I do to my little sister when she annoys me.
He gets the hint. “Of course we do.”
We wait and listen for the next cry then follow the meows to the big dumpster at the edge of the lot behind the dining hall. The meows increase in volume and intensity as we approach. I stand on tiptoe and try to peek in. But the dumpster is covered, and I’m too short.
Dave’s not short though, and he flips open the giant plastic lid of the dumpster. The disgusting smell of the garbage accompanies the meows shrieking through the night air. He peeks over the top. “Oh, look!”
I stand on my tiptoes, but I can’t see over the edge.
Without hesitation, he scales the side of the dumpster with a grace that makes my mojo flutter. He lands inside, jumping into the pile of garbage with a thud. “Oh, Maggie! I think there are three. I need more light. Do you have anything I can use?”
I open my handbag and light up the flashlight on my phone. “Well here, David, you can use my phone.” I’m not sure if he picks up my sarcastic tone. Asking him about his phoneless state of being is high on my list of potential talking points. “I’ll toss it in.”
“Well, okay, Magdalena.”
Magdalena. My tummy flutters aga
in. He knows my name.
“On three—one, two…” The meows are so loud that I can’t hear “three,” but I throw it over anyway.
With a clunk, it hits God-knows-what in the bottom of the dumpster. I cringe. “Got it?”
“I’ll just wipe that off,” he says from the depths of university trash.
Is he laughing? “Yuck. Please do.”
“Here little guy,” Dave sings in his lovely voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The sweetness. Despite the smell, I smile.
“What should I do?” he calls.
“We have to save them. Can you get them out?”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” I hear Dave move around the dumpster. I stretch to peek over, and see the top of his head.
“It’s so gross in here. Remind me to never eat at the dining hall again.”
I laugh and mentally celebrate Dave’s first, non-weird, relaxed little quip for me. “Can I do anything from the outside?”
“I’ll try to grab them and hand them over to you.”
I wait. A guy rides by on a bike, and I wave. Nothing to see here, just a dude in the dumpster. Move along.
Dave’s words echo from inside, a few octaves higher than usual. “Come here, baby. You’re so cute. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I pout at the sound of his melodic voice as he tries to calm the kittens.
“I got one.” More rustling. “I think there are two more.” A shriek. “Shit, he escaped. I’m afraid I’m going to crush them. Ah, I think I stepped in vomit.”
I cringe again and gag. “Oh no. Just grab them and hand them over.”
“Wait,” he says. I try to peek over the edge again to see what’s going on. “I found a box.”
“Yay! Talk in your cute kitty voice again,” I tease. “Maybe you should sing.”
Much to my surprise, Dave does start singing. “One little, two little, three little kitties, come see Maggie, she’s so pretty.”
“Aw,” I say over the dumpster. “I could listen to that all night.”
Dave chuckles. “I hope I’m not staying in here all night.”
I hear him shuffle around. “I don’t know. In the dumpster, you seem to be more of the smooth talker I’ve heard so much about.”
The movement inside the dumpster stops. I wait out the silence. I’m testing his shyness, but maybe he’s not ready.
“You’re right,” he says from within. “It’s because I can’t see you. I see you, and my brain doesn’t work.”
My heart swells, and I sigh to the dumpster. I make his brain shut off?
“Hey, I got one! And…” more rustling, “there’s his friend.”
“It’s the singing. Sing some more!”
His hands appear over the wall of the dumpster as he lifts the box toward me. I stand on my toes and see Dave’s eyes over the top, his face between his arms as he holds the box over his head. He raises his eyebrows. “Hi,” he sings.
“Hi,” I say softly. I shake his adorableness out of my head and reach for the box. “Got it.” I almost drop them as the box jerks around my hands. When I get my grip, I peek in. They try to escape from captivity, so I close it again.
Dave disappears into the garbage realm. “Let me get the third little bastard.”
“Dave!”
“Dammit, don’t go in the vomit! Maggie, he’s licking the vomit.”
I gag a little and groan.
“Come here, you little…” More scuffling. “Got him. This guy’s trouble. Look.”
I look over the edge of the dumpster, and Dave’s holding the kitten up high for me to see. He’s all black with a white diamond over his nose. “So cute!”
“He’s a vomit-eating mongrel,” Dave yells.
“Look at that face, Dave. Is that the face of a vomit-eating mongrel?”
He lifts the kitten over the edge. I’m able to grab it with one hand and maneuver him into the box with his friends.
“Okay, they’re all out. Can I come out now too?”
“Only if you promise me something,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“You have to keep talking to me.” I like talking to Dave. There’s nothing wrong with that. I can still be anti-relationship and enjoy talking to a male.
“I’ll try. You’re just so damn pretty.”
I hold the top of the box partially closed over the meowing kittens, afraid they’ll escape and smile. This sweet-talking Dave seems so sincere. Hearing compliments is not something I’m used to. Most of the compliments I got from Winston had to do with my grades or my gaming skills.
Dave grabs the rim of the dumpster and pulls his long body up, hoists a leg over the side, and hurdles himself out. Strong and sweet. I’m doomed.
As he hits the ground and slaps his hands together in an effort to clean off, I study him and cringe.
He freezes. “What?”
I take a step back, pinching my nose. “You were in the dumpster. Ick.”
“Ick? I was saving your kittens.” He wipes his hands on his sweater as he looks down at his clothes, now covered in various shades of liquid garbage stains. “What do we do now? I don’t think Roberto’s will let me in. They definitely won’t let the kittens sit with us.”
“Roberto’s?” I draw out the word. “That’s my favorite restaurant in the whole world.”
“A little bird might have told me that.” He grins. “I don’t think I’ll ever eat again anyway after seeing what’s in there.” In a swift motion, like he does on stage, he pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it into the dumpster. “Not dealing with that.”
His neck peeks from under the unbuttoned collar of his white shirt. I remember when I took his beads how warm his skin felt, how he got goosebumps from my touch. I imagine putting my arms around him, reaching up around his neck.
The box shakes in my hands as the kittens meow, bringing me back to reality. Not the best time for fantasizing.
When he opens the box, they look up at us. “Do you want me to carry them?”
Their big eyes beg us for escape. The vomit eater goes for it, scurrying over the top of the box. He climbs onto my chest, clinging to my shirt, watched by his friends, a white and black fluff bug and an all-black cotton ball kitty.
“Dumpster living is no fun, right, babies?” I ask, as Vomit Eater’s claws scratch through my shirt. “Ouch.”
Dave pulls it off me and accidentally brushes his knuckles across my boob. Even in the dark, I can see his cheeks tint with color.
“They’re so little.” He gulps as he holds Vomit Eater up for inspection. “What kind of asshole would put these little fur balls in a dumpster?”
“Unfortunately, it happens more than you think. I see it all the time at the shelter where I volunteer.” Baby animals get left at the shelter’s doorstep, sometimes with a bowl of water or tied to our entrance with a leash. At least those people try. I scratch one of their little heads. “Maybe we can bring them tomorrow?”
His eyes find mine. “That’s right. Meg told me you’re studying to be a vet.”
“Yeah, it’s a long shot—”
“No, you can do it. You’ll be great,” he says, grabbing Vomit Eater again. “You’re smart as well as beautiful.”
My cheeks heat. “Stop.”
“Megan told me you get straight A’s.”
It’s nice to know my roommate brags about me. “Megan tells all my secrets. Now you know I’m a nerd.”
“Nerds are hot.” He looks from me to the box. “At least I think so.”
He holds Vomit Eater, and I carry the box back to the car. Dave’s adorable no matter what, but when he’s holding a kitten with one hand and the car door for me with the other, my heart melts. It’s like the cover of a sweet romance.
I maneuver the box and myself into the passenger seat, and Dave adds Vomit Eater to the mix. He walks around to the driver’s side and joins me in the car. “Are you okay?”
I nod as he starts
the engine. “Thanks for saving them.”
“You’re welcome. What now though? They can’t stay on the second floor tonight. Dolch will report us.”
I’m sure there’s nobody at the shelter to let me in and set them up for the night. We’ll have to keep them. “Let’s go to the store for food and necessities and bring them to my room. Dolch never comes down. You’ll stay with me?” I don’t want to take care of three kittens all night on my own, and Dave’s so cute with them, so cute with everything. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t fall in love, I still want to flirt.
After a long second, he finally looks at me. “Uh, I… uh… you…stay…night.” He grimaces and bends to bang his head on the steering wheel.
“Oh no. Do I have to put you back in the dumpster? Breathe. I just meant if you could stay with me to help take care of them. They like you. You’re their new daddy.”
It’s so easy to frazzle him. I love it.
He raises his eyebrows. “I am?”
“Yep. You’re the baby daddy. Don’t bail on me now.”
He runs a hand through his hair then sniffs it. “Ew. I can’t. I need a shower.”
“You can shower then come help me. Please?” I pout, certain that my feminine superpower will work.
“Well, since you said please.” He starts the car. “Of course.”
We smile at each other. It’s fun being worshipped.
He pulls out of the Sheridan Hall lot and drives us to the pet supply store. The kittens bust out of the box. We let them run wild in the car and bolt into the store with about eight minutes until their closing time.
Again, Dave holds the door for me. The simple act makes me feel like a princess. I touch his hand as I walk past him into the store, smiling when he startles.
I know I’m not supposed to fall for him, whether he saves kittens, holds doors, or dresses up for dates with me. But when I turn and catch him checking out my ass, I can’t help thinking: This could be so much fun.
Chapter 5
Dave
So much for the romance novel, I think as I scan the million different types of kitty litter.
She Wants It All: Book Three of the Sheridan Hall Series Page 4
