Cline, though. Cline is a massive guy and wouldn’t be what girls consider conventionally attractive. But his personality makes up for it. At some point, I see him with a girl on the other side of the room, and I try to maneuver my way over without tripping on any furniture. I make it to him just in time to see him lean into the girls face and tug on the end of her white-blonde hair before he asks, “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?”
The funniest part about this line is that the girl isn’t even wearing shoes. But she laughs so hard that she falls into him and, within minutes, they’re walking down the hallway to find an empty room.
I’m not suave by any means. Chelsea was kind of a one-off, if I’m being completely honest. I never in a million years would have pictured myself with a girlfriend as hot as she was.
I’m too goofy. Too awkward around girls. I don’t know. I’ve been told I’m many things. A good flirt is not one of them.
I can’t recall what I said to the girl with the black hair by the bonfire, but it ends with us running to the lake to drunkenly jump off the dock and me being pulled out of the water by someone who looks a little like Cline. Maybe it was my old stand-by of “I like that shirt, but I’d like it better on my floor.”
Pretty sure that’s when I blacked out. Which is a shame, because the girl who wanted to go swimming had actually taken off her top.
“Elliot.”
I shift and press my face into the fabric under my cheek.
“Elliot. Elllll-iiiii-ottttttt.” Whoever is making an E.T. voice is going to get my full wrath. As soon as the room stops spinning, of course.
This time it’s a whisper right next to my ear. “Elliottttt.”
It startles me, and I jump a little, my eyes flying open at the sound of little pings as something scatters across the floor.
Audrey. Audrey is by my side, laughing hysterically as I sit fully upright and watch a hundred Reese’s Pieces rain down around my feet.
“Original. Where the hell did you even get this many Reese’s?”
She blinks and leans back, her mouth open in false shock. “What else do you eat while you’re drunk?”
The house is eerily quiet, and I squint under the terrible brightness of that asshole we refer to as the sun.
She gets to her feet and tilts her head to look me over. “You’re really bad at this drinking thing.”
“I don’t do it very often, but when I do, I commit.” The smile I give her is fleeting before the back of my throat tingles, and I’m stumbling up and towards the bathroom to prove her right.
She’s standing outside the door when I finish puking, and the amusement on her face can’t be ignored. “Cline left you. Said I could bring you back to his house.”
“Why?” I’m only vaguely aware that my legs are really cold.
“He said something about wanting to choke you out, but then you passed out on the couch, and he went back into a room with that girl again. He took her home this morning. Said there wasn’t enough room in the truck.”
“He really is the shittiest best friend on the planet.”
She grins. “The. Absolute. Worst. I made him a t-shirt that said that exact thing once.”
“You’re the one who bought him that? He wears it all the time.” Just chuckling makes my head hurt, and she pushes off the wall tsk-ing as she walks away. “Why am I only wearing boxers? Where are my clothes?” I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t feeling like death.
“Someone brought them in from outside. You weren’t wearing much when you were dragged in here.”
When she returns, she has a cup full of stuff that fizzes like Alka-Seltzer but tastes like really bad Gatorade. I assume I’ll puke this up in about five minutes, but miraculously, after laying down for another fifteen, I am perfectly fine and asking about breakfast.
In the time it’s taken me to recover, she’s cleaned up what she didn’t get to before waking me. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would be really impressed with how pristine the place looks before we shuffle outside. When she locks the door behind us, I can see this look cross her face as though she’s disappointed that we’re leaving already. Her eyes fixate for a second on the welcome mat, and then, like a light switch, she turns to look at me with a smile.
“You’re a dude, so I assume breakfast means bacon. With a side of bacon. Am I right?”
I’m surrounded by fast food biscuit wrappers, and the taste of grease sits heavy on my tongue while I let the wind hit my face at sixty miles an hour. Audrey has graciously not spoken until this point. And then …
“What was her name?”
I crack an eye open and roll my head in her direction, hoping that the look I am giving her is one of disdain and not one where I look like a lobotomy patient. “Who?”
“The girl.” Her eyes slide to me and back to the road. “The one you were screaming out the window about. The one who made you try and pick up every last girl at my party last night.” She smiles a little. “Unsuccessfully. But still.”
I groan and lean my head back against the car seat. “Chelsea.”
“I’m sorry. Kelsey?”
“Chelsea,” I say louder. The sound of my own voice makes my head throb, like the hangover is just waiting to come back with a vengeance, and my body is ninja-ready.
“We’ll call her Kelsey. I hated a girl with that name once.”
My eyes are filmy when I blink them open to look at the delight on her face.
“Like a code name. That Kelsey Bitch. Ugh. She’s such a Kelsey.”
“You’re crazy.” I laugh and close my eyes again.
She responds almost too softly for me to hear, “Yeah. Maybe.” Then she elbows me. Hard. The car veers a little into the other lane, and I grab the oh shit handle and press my foot to the dash.
“You’re a terrible driver.”
“You’re a bad pick-up artist.”
“What?” I straighten up and face her profile. “I have amazing pick-up lines.”
She makes a face. “Is that why so many girls were into you last night? Because all I heard was a bunch of stuff about boobs and dragons.”
“‘Do you like dragons’ is one of the greatest pick-up lines on the planet.”
“You’re delusional. There are a million better ones than that.” She rolls her eyes and turns on her blinker to take the exit off the freeway.
“Sure, there are. Like last week when some chick said she couldn’t feel her lips, and then asked me if I could. Then she kissed me.”
The car jerks as her foot hits the brake and she turns to stare at me as she slows to a stop at a red light. “No way.”
“Awful, right? So the dragon line is a thousand times better than that.”
Audrey’s cheeks light up pale pink and she averts her eyes. “Oh, yes. Telling a girl you’ll be dragon your balls across her face later is probably the better of the two. But I suggest maybe you work on your game a little bit harder if you want to get over Kelsey.”
Cline is acting as if I killed his childhood pet and mailed him the head. He’s barely spoken a word to me since Audrey dropped me off at the house. Just grunts and an occasional sarcastic remark every time I try to engage him in conversation.
The ride back to campus should be fun.
We have everything packed and ready to go when he finally addresses me. “Let’s get outta here.” He shoves his ugly-ass fedora on his head and swings the front door open as though it has offended his mom and he’s exacting his revenge.
I figure it best not to bring up Audrey anymore until I can figure out just exactly what the hell his problem is. But I don’t have to mention her at all.
She's standing outside, leaning against her car with a huge pair of sunglasses on her face. In her left hand is a purple Popsicle, and she has it pressed between her lips as she watches us load the car.
"Hey, Cline!"
He turns and regards her with a scowl on his face. "What?"
"I like your hat!"
He angles his neck li
ke he's not quite sure if she's offering him a compliment, but he raises his hand and runs his fingers along the brim of the thing on his head. “Really?" It’s sad that he seems a little hopeful that she means it.
She laughs and shakes her head. "No. It's awful. You look like an idiot."
He opens his eyes wide, and his mouth follows as he pretends to reach into his shirt pocket. His hand emerges, and he's holding up his middle finger, looking surprised by what he's found. “ You’re an idiot,” he mumbles and turns back around.
I can hear her chuckle clear across the street. She motions for me to cross over to her, so I do, my hands shoved into my pockets, because she makes me a little nervous.
Audrey tips the melting dessert in my direction. "Tell him the fedora isn't working. Save him some embarrassment. "
"I've tried."
“It’s a shame. All that male ego … You, on the other hand." She rolls her head to the side, and I wish I could see her eyes as she looks me up and down. "I like those glasses on you."
"My contacts are ruined. I don't wear these glasses much.” The weight of them on the bridge of my nose causes my nostrils to flare.
"You should. But lake water will do that to contacts. I should have warned you. I mean, I would have if I had known you were going to get trashed and try to swim at two o’clock in the morning. But I’m not a fortune teller or anything.”
I kinda think ruining my contacts was worth her compliment, but I don't tell her that.
She holds out the Popsicle in offering. "Want a bite?" If she's asking, then I'm not going to say no, so I dip my head and bite into it, pulling away to smile, grape sugar coating my tongue.
I press my thumb to the side of my mouth and clean off the bit that has escaped. Her eyes are staring as I do, and I'm quiet for a second, lost in thought before she laughs and finishes the rest of the Popsicle off.
"What are you thinking about?"
I grin, and I'm brave looking at her. "I'm thinking that right now, at this very moment, I know what your mouth tastes like.”
If electricity could crackle between two people, there might have been a sound. But all I hear is the hush of her soft exhale followed by a sticky-lipped whistle. “Best one, yet, Elliot. You should invent something to carry around with you so you can have these on hand at all times just so you can use that line. Like some kind of insulated fanny pack for frozen treats.” She waves the stained stick in front of my face.
The moment loses its magic, and I find myself laughing at the idea of her invention. “Yeah, maybe. That would definitely get my mind off Kelsey.” I say it just to see her smile. She doesn’t disappoint.
“See ya around, Elliot.” Audrey’s cheeks push her sunglasses up higher on her face when she grins, and then she turns around to go back inside her house.
The taste of grape lingers in my mouth for the entire ride back to college.
“So, you’re good?”
My weekly call with Cara usually includes this phrase, and it’s been a while since I’ve answered it honestly. She knows when I’m lying anyway, but when I tell her that I actually am fine today, I can hear the hint of surprise in her otherwise flat tone. I’m itching to get off the phone by the time she asks the next question. There’s music pouring from an open door as I pass by, and I know she can tell I’m not at home.
“Where are you going?”
“Crazy. Wanna come?”
She doesn’t laugh at the joke. I don’t expect her to. She just continues with her rundown.
“How are your impulses?”
I cringe and rest the phone between my cheek and shoulder so I can wipe my palms on my back pockets. “Great. Everything is great. Actually, I have to go, so … talk next Tuesday?” She agrees and hangs up, but I’m left feeling anxious as I stare at the brick building in front of me and try to get the nerve to dial another number. It only rings once before he answers.
“Audrey?”
“Hey. Yeah. I mean, yeah, it’s Audrey. Hey. What are you doing?”
There’s some movement behind the curtain as I’m looking up at it, and I can see his shadow rise from what I assume is a chair by the window.
“Getting some stuff together for a project. What are you doing?”
I take a deep breath and expel it with a laugh. “I think I’m standing outside your place. Wave at the window.” The shadow moves closer to the curtain, and I can see five fingers spread as he waves. “Yup. That’s definitely you. Unless this call is being tapped, then that’s not cool at all, and this is how a horror movie would start.”
Elliot moves the material aside and opens the window, peering out at me from above. “Do you always communicate through windows?”
The smile on my face could shatter my lips. “Not always. Just on special occasions. Let’s run away. Come on.”
He leans on his elbows and cradles his face in his hands, his adorable brown eyes looking me over. “I have a project.”
“You’re no fun, Elliot Clark.”
Lips pursed and eyes narrowed, he nods. “Where were you thinking?”
I shrug and hold my arms out like we have the entire world at our fingertips. “Honestly, I just want some pancakes. And that’s maybe a five-minute walk. I’d settle for that.”
Not once has he asked how I knew where he lived. Or how I found out what his last name is. I don’t know if that should put me at ease or make me more nervous, so I try to shut the thoughts down altogether. Which is hard, because sometimes I think all I’m made up of is a constant train of thoughts.
We don’t talk much on the way, and that suits me just fine. He’s a watcher, and I stare at his profile as he takes in the other students walking by us or hanging around in groups. They’re drinking or smoking or talking too loudly. His face is an open book, and it’s like I can see inside his head exactly what he’s thinking about all of them as we pass by. His eyes roam some of them from top to bottom, and I wonder if he’s putting their physical attributes somewhere in a file in his brain for later use.
When we reach the diner, he seems to snap out of his little people watching trance and finally acknowledges that I’m by his side. Elliot’s smile is endearing and a little shy as he holds the door open for me, his height so much greater than mine that I don’t even have to duck beneath his arm to enter. Not that this is much of a feat. At five foot three, I can walk under most guys’ arms. I’d bet Elliot stands just under six foot, though. Still much shorter than his roommate.
His fingers fidget as he scans the crowd before resting his hand gently on my lower back and leading us to a booth in the middle of the restaurant. The table is sticky with syrup and the air is thick with the smell of bacon and eggs. His lips press into a thin line while he pretends to read the menu, but his eyes are wandering elsewhere, and I sit back to watch him some more. He’s wearing contacts again, his dark brown eyes peering across the top of the menu and looking beyond my shoulder.
“Do you have a huge bacon boner right now, or is there someone behind me that you’re freaked out about? I can’t tell if you’re scared or horny.”
His eyes flick to mine and a look of terror crosses his face. “I assure you, the two are not mutually exclusive. Sometimes they go hand in hand, but right now, my ex is sitting two tables to the left, facing me.” He raises the menu a little higher and tries to shift down in his seat.
“Huh.” I try to play it cool, but I fail at that kind of stuff, so I just end up turning around and looking for whoever this girl must be. There are three of them, and two are exceptionally pretty. One is average. I assume with the way he’s about to lose his shit, he dated one of the hot ones. I turn back around, and his face is completely obscured by the menu now. “Blonde or super blonde?”
“What?” His eyes reappear and he blinks a bunch of times.
“Is it the hot blonde one or the hot super blonde one? Because I’m assuming that the third wheel is only there to make the other two feel secure about themselves, right? And that can’t possi
bly be your Kelsey-Chelsea.”
His entire face is visible now, and his mouth is hanging halfway open. “Are you a witch?”
I laugh and shake my head before leaning back against the seat. “So which one?”
“Super blonde,” he says quietly and averts his eyes like he’s suddenly really intent on figuring out what kind of topping he wants on his pancakes.
It makes sense, though. Elliot would be totally pressed about being dumped by a girl of that caliber. It has to be a blow to the ego. And he’s such a nice guy. I don’t even know the girl and I already hate her.
Truth be told, I don’t really know Elliot all that well, either.
I scoot out of my seat and into his, pressing myself against him, hip to hip. He’s stone still, staring straight ahead like he’s afraid if he moves I’ll attack him. His eyes slide in my direction, his long eyelashes raising higher as they widen, and I hear him faintly whisper, “What are you doing?”
I clear my throat and turn a little before resting my hand on his. “Let me just say one thing before we do this, okay?” He nods just the slightest bit before I continue. “I am in no way attracted to you. And this doesn’t mean anything. Now say something funny.”
He turns to face me so fast that our noses almost brush. “Funny.”
“Good enough.” I squeeze his hand and let out the loudest laugh I can possibly muster. I flip my hair and laugh harder, gripping his arm even tighter and angling against him until I’m almost in his lap. Good lord, his biceps are much larger than I remembered from the lake house. Or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. I need to focus. “Oh my God, Elliot. You have got to be the funniest guy I have ever met.” I drop my voice and stare at his lips which have gone dry. They’re not bad lips. Fuller on the bottom but wide … Focus, Audrey. “Funny guys are so hot,” I say as loud as I can. And then I’m on him. Straddling him in that nasty diner seat, my ass squeezed against the table as I press my entire body against his and hover my lips over his.