The Good Life Part 6

I felt bad taking the hoodie from him but it was so soft and warm and I really was cold; plus, looking at the size of the campus, I had a feeling we were in for a long walk.

He told me there was a visitor's lot closer to his house so we drove there first and then Jake carried my overnight bag on our walk to the frat house. He also took my hand since there was some snow and ice on the ground. It seemed perfectly normal that we would walk across his campus holding hands.

What if? I wondered. I had never before thought of Jake in any romantic kind of way. But what if I did? And what if he thought of me the same way? What if Jake and I were more than just friends? What if I came to Central next year? Would he be this sweet to me then? In case you haven't figured this out yet, I have a tendency to get a little ahead of myself. For a minute I had a montage of images flash through my mind: Jake and I walking to cla.s.s together hand in hand; Jake and I studying in the library and sneaking kisses in the empty aisles; Jake and I cheering for Adam at a basketball game; Jake and I cuddling on the bed in my dorm room and watching movies; Jake and I doing lots of other things in my dorm room; Jake doing lots of other things with some s.k.a.n.ky blonde who wore too much eyeliner and whispering to her, "Please don't tell my girlfriend about this ..."

Insert sound of screeching record this fantasy was over. I let go of his hand and put it to my chest, trying to comfort the heart that had broken for the second time that day. Just the idea of Jake being another Riley was enough for me to know that I could not survive heartbreak like that in real life. Because Jake wasn't Riley. Riley was a fun guy with a good future ahead of him, but I'd never been delusional enough to think I was a part of that future. I'd always known in the back of my mind that Riley was just a high school boyfriend. I was devastated by what he had done, but I knew I could live without him. Jake, on the other hand, was way more important. He wasn't something or someone I was willing to lose.

I gave him a quick glance and tried not to look angry. I wasn't crazy enough to be mad at him for something I'd only imagined him doing. But I wasn't dumb enough to let it ever happen either. There were a lot of other guys in this world and a lot of other guys at this school. Jake was off-limits. Not just for tonight. Forever.

My cell phone rang. It was my mom calling. I flipped the phone open, pulled up the antenna (yeah, this was a long time ago) and put the phone to my ear.

"I just talked to Adam," she said hurriedly. "He said he's in Buffalo!"

"Don't panic, Mom," I said, "Jake's here."

"Is he there right now?"

"Yes."

I heard her exhale the breath she'd probably been holding for awhile. "Put him on."

I handed Jake the phone. "Hey, Mom," he said. He'd been calling my mom "Mom" for as long as I could remember. "Yeah, don't worry about a thing. I've got this."

His fraternity was having a party that night called Get Leid. It was a summer-in-winter themed party where they intended to crank up the heat and give everyone a flower lei at the door ... but that was it. Theme parties were definitely my forte and those boys clearly needed help. I pushed my cheating boyfriend to the back of my mind and made it my personal goal to make sure this was the best party of the year.

Jake and I went to the party store and bought drink umbrellas and frozen daiquiri mix. We got a few beach b.a.l.l.s and an abundance of cheap gra.s.s skirts and coconut bras for the guys. I made an excellent summer playlist for the DJ including DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince's "Summertime" and "School's Out" by Alice Cooper. I convinced the guys to uncover the gas grill on the back porch and cook up some hot dogs. I dug out a few tiki torches from the shed and lit them in the snow. I even put up the volleyball net in the backyard hoping a few people might drink enough to play. I was right. They did play.

It turned out to be a great night for everyone. Everyone except me! Jake was so worried I'd end up hooking up with one of his fraternity brothers he never let me out of his sight. He knew if that happened he'd have to deal with the wrath of my brother. He followed me around the whole night. Every time I tried to dance with someone, he'd pull me away. Every time I grabbed a drink, he'd dump it out. He even escorted me to the bathroom and stood outside the door to make sure no one came in after me. It wasn't until after 2am when the guests had left and everyone was cleaning up that I was able to sneak in a few drinks.

When we were done cleaning he took me upstairs to his room and locked the door behind us.

"Are you sure you don't wanna put the baby gate up?" I asked sarcastically.

"Huh?"

"You know, since you're my father, and I'm just a child?"

"You're kinda acting like one," he said in an arrogant, unapologetic tone of voice that I immediately hated.

"Well you're kind of an a.s.shole!" I said loudly. I looked at his roommate's bed to make sure I didn't wake him and saw that it was empty. Jake must have asked him to stay somewhere else, probably because he was worried the guy would try to have s.e.x with me in the middle of the night. Because apparently every single guy within a ten mile radius was trying to get into my pants, and it was his duty to ward them off.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked like he had no idea.

"Nothing, Jake!" I yelled. "Nothing has gotten into me or even near me! Why did you keep telling me to come hang out with you at school if you weren't going to let me have any fun?"

He sat down on his bed and started untying his tennis shoes. "I know how you are. You think everyone is filled with rainbows and glitter. But people around here can be pretty shady. You've seen the after-school specials about frat guys, right? And the Lifetime movies?"

I rolled my eyes at his lame attempt to be funny. "If these people are so bad, why did you tell me to come visit you? What did you think I would do here? Tour the library?"

"I thought you'd have some friends or your boyfriend with you, and I thought your brother would be here. I couldn't send you out there alone. You would have ended up in one of these beds, outside throwing up in the snow or, in the worst case, pa.s.sed out somewhere with guys jacking off on you."

Okay, that was a gross visual. "Ending up in someone's bed might not have been that bad," I said after a moment. "Maybe it's what I wanted." I sat down in his desk chair, crossed my arms and tried to make a mad face.

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"The look on your face. It's so funny when you try to look mad. And would you want to be in one of these beds if I told you no one in this house has washed their sheets since September, and there's a different girl's DNA left on them pretty much every week?"

Eww. Maybe not. These people are sick!

"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes again.

"Is 'whatever' what you say when you know you've lost an argument?"

I didn't answer. He had me. I couldn't very well tell him I would love to contribute my DNA to his dirty friends' bed sheets. That was just sick.

"My roommate is staying at his girlfriend's tonight. He said you could sleep in his bed."

"Ew! Not after what you told me!"

He laughed again. "You can sleep in mine then. I'll even change the sheets for you."

He went over to his dresser where he pulled out a folded sheet from the bottom drawer. "Your mom washed these for me over Christmas break," he told me. "I can still smell the Tide."

My mom was very motherly towards Jake. She always had been. She felt bad for him because his own mom wasn't very, well, motherly. She was a bit of a party animal. She was the kind of person who started drinking as soon as she woke up in the afternoon. She didn't do a lot of laundry.

Jake's parents were teenagers when he was born. They broke up when he was a few months old and had been fighting over him ever since. They didn't fight over him the way most separated parents fought over their kids, though. Most of the time the parents both wanted more time with the kids, but in this case, they both wanted less time. The fights went like this: "What do you mean you can't take him this weekend? You promised you'd be here! I have plans!"

"Oh give me a break! I had to keep him two extra days last month and still had to pay you child support! Unless you want to give me some of my money back, you can keep him this weekend."

The reason why I knew about these arguments was because they would often have them in front of other people, including my brother and even Jake.

Jake always acted like such a tough guy and pretended it didn't bother him, but I knew the truth. I'd never forget the first and only time I'd seen him cry. It was Father's Day. I was about eight, which would have made Jake about ten. He had spent both Friday and Sat.u.r.day nights at our house which was pretty normal, especially during the summer. His dad, who had gotten married by this time and had two more children that he actually seemed to love, was supposed to pick Jake up from our house on Sunday afternoon to take him to the zoo with his brother and sister. But he never showed up. My mom tried calling him for hours and kept getting his machine. She finally called his mom to come pick him up. I'm not sure what Jake's mom said on the other end, but we could all hear what my mom said on our end, and we knew Jake's mom wasn't coming to pick him up either. It wouldn't have surprised me any if his mom said something along the lines of, "This is Father's Day, the one day a year I'm guaranteed my freedom."

We had a table in our living room back then that was covered in my dad's plants. Some had vines that hung down over the edge of the table and some of the vines nearly reached the floor. That table was a great dark place to hide under during hide-n-seek. It was under that table where I saw Jake that night while my mom was on the phone.

He hugged his knees to his chest and cried; the Father's Day card he'd made for his dad ripped up in pieces on the floor at his feet. It was a quiet cry and he had his face pressed down into his knees, but I could tell he was crying by the way his shoulders shook. I'd seen my brother cry plenty of times as a child, but Jake seemed tough and strong, and even though I should have moved on and acted like I never saw a thing, I was so surprised that I froze for a minute and gawked. That was when he lifted his head up and saw me looking at him. He stared at me for a minute with his big, brown eyes bloodshot and wet with tears. I couldn't just walk away after that so I crawled under the table with him and held his hand.

"It's okay, Jake," I whispered. "I can ask my mom to take us to the zoo next weekend if you want."

He didn't say anything or even acknowledge that he'd heard me. He just cried even harder. So I let go of his hand, put my arm around his shoulder, pulled him toward me and let him cry.

My mom found us a little while later and she, too, crawled under the table.

"You know you're always welcome here," she told him as she patted his knee. "Now let's get out from under here, you two. Dad wants pizza!"

It's funny how certain memories stay with a person. I didn't remember a whole lot about my life as an eight-year-old, and Jake and I never spoke of it, but I didn't think I'd ever forget that Father's Day. It was the first time I'd ever felt real love for someone that wasn't related to me.

Even at his frat house ten years later I still had a soft spot for Jake, and it was hard to stay mad at him, especially when he was willing to make a bed for me at almost four in the morning. I sat at his desk and watched him pull the old DNA-covered sheets off his bed and put the clean ones on. When he finished, I yawned, stood up and stretched my arms over my head.

And that was when he walked over and kissed me. It was so unexpected and happened so fast. One second he was at his bed, and the next second he had crossed the room and his lips were on mine. It's hard to make a move like that and get it just right. Usually the guy ends up missing the target or smashing teeth to teeth. Or the girl ends up choking on bubblegum and needs life-saving maneuvers. This, though, was just right. It was the perfect amount of s.e.xy mixed with the perfect amount of sweet. Since my arms had already been over my head at the time, he put his hands on them and gently pushed them against the wall behind us. I don't know if it was all the crying I'd done earlier, or the fact that I'd been awake for almost a whole day, or the two plastic cups of beer I'd stolen from the keg when no one was looking, but I suddenly felt weak and dizzy. It was like I was falling. When he ran his tongue along my bottom lip I felt like I was falling off a cliff and never hitting the bottom. In two years Riley had never, ever made me feel that way.

But then Jake pulled away. and it felt like a crash landing. He put his hands to his head and grabbed onto a few clumps of his hair like he was frustrated. "s.h.i.t, Rox," he said. "I'm sorry. You're just so cute when you try to look mad."

I was still so dizzy from his kiss that I couldn't figure out how to form words. I just stared at him with what was probably a deer-in-the-headlights look.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his hands now clasped behind his head. "I'm gonna sleep downstairs. Make sure you lock the door behind me, okay?"

He walked out the door. I was pretty disappointed he didn't stay, but when I remembered the pain I'd felt earlier when I imagined him betraying me and breaking my heart, I knew he did the right thing by leaving. Because if he had kept kissing me like that, there was no way I could have said no to him.

The next morning Mom called and woke me up bright and early. There was a winter storm on the way and she wanted me to leave early so I'd be home safe and sound before it started snowing. I was headed out the front door of the frat house when Jake called to me from the couch in the living room.

"Roxie?"

I turned around. "Yeah?"

He sat up and yawned. His blanket fell down and exposed his tattooed chest. I'd never been a huge fan of tattoos before, but he really made them look good. Think Justin Timberlake in Alphadog, but with darker hair. Smokin'!

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

"No," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm going outside to build a snowman." I smiled to let him know I was only teasing.

He stretched his arms and yawned again. "Let me buy you a coffee first. You can't get on the road without caffeine."

I could have gotten my own coffee, but I didn't argue. We walked to a coffee shop on campus. It was kind of weird. The silence between us seemed to magnify the other sounds around us, like the sounds of our feet crunching into the snow.

When we got into the cafe he ordered two coffees and we sat down in a booth. He looked tired. His eyes were bloodshot and he had his hood pulled up on his head because his hair was a disaster but he still looked d.a.m.n good to me. Seriously, when did he get this hot, and how did I not notice?

"So what do we have to do to make this not weird?" he asked.

I smiled at him. I love a guy who gets right to the point and doesn't bulls.h.i.t. "In the movies we'd probably go outside and get into a s...o...b..ll fight to cut the tension. There would be a montage of scenes of us falling into the snow and laughing together ..." I paused as I thought about it. "But it's too cold for that s.h.i.t."

He grinned.

"It's not weird," I told him with a shrug. "s.h.i.t happens. People get drunk and make out sometimes. It's fine."

"I didn't have a single drink last night."

"Oh," I paused, surprised. "That explains a lot."

"Explains what?"

"Why you were so annoying. A few drinks would have done you some good."

"Yeah, probably."

"But really, it's not weird. I'm glad you kissed me."

"You are?"

"Yeah. I was hoping to get laid at the Get Leid party. I thought it would make me feel better about Riley. So I'm glad I got at least a kiss. I kind of think you owe me a lot more than that for t.w.a.t-blocking me all night."

He actually choked on his coffee. "I can't believe you just said t.w.a.t-blocking."

We both giggled.

"I guess I'll have to take a rain check," I told him with a wicked grin.

I could tell he thought I was kidding, but I wasn't sure I was. A relationship was out of the question ... but maybe, just maybe, we could pull off a one-night-stand someday. A girl could dream.

CHAPTER NINE.

Caroline Ganier stood in front of me in her stupid, ugly cardigan sweater with a nametag that said "s.k.a.n.k Queen, Ristorante Manager." Okay, it didn't really say that. The s.k.a.n.k Queen part anyway. And if they were going to use the Italian word for restaurant, why didn't they also use the Italian word for manager? I hated the place immediately.

There was no way I could tell her I was there to apply for a job. That would be a ten on the mortification scale. Standing there and s.h.i.tting my pants in front of her would have been less embarra.s.sing than asking her for a job. Yet, there I was ringing the doorbell before hours wearing a nice pantsuit and holding a manila folder on the very day a wanted ad was listed on Craigslist. What the h.e.l.l else would I be there for?

"Roxie Humsucker," she said (Yes, that's my maiden name. Can you see why I was in such a hurry to change it?). With a smirk on her face not unlike the one I saw when I caught her in my boyfriend's bed more than ten years ago, she leaned on the doorframe, crossed her arms and raised her chin up. She looked seriously entertained, and I wanted so badly to punch her in her stupid, ugly face!

I am known for my quick-thinking skills. But it's a total fake-out. The reason people think I'm a quick thinker is because I prepare so extensively for every situation I can think of. I make it seem like I'm a quick-thinker, but really, a lot of thought goes into nearly everything I do. But this, this I was not expecting in any part of my imagination. I have to say, though, that for being put on the spot like that, I was impressed with the way I handled the situation.

"Hey there...you," I said, purposely not using her name so she would think I forgot it even though it was on her nametag. "I'm so glad someone's here. I just ran over on my lunch break because I heard you guys do catering for large groups."

She gave a sly grin like she didn't buy the story. "Yes, we do catering. You didn't have to come in person though. We have the menu and prices on the website. You can order it online, too."

"Yes," I said, thinking fast, "but this is kind of last minute so I wanted to do it in person. I'm in a jam and I need it this Thursday. Will that be possible?"

"Of course. For how many people?"

"Thirty," I said quickly.

d.a.m.nit! Why didn't I say twenty?

Almost $400 later, as I was walking back to Jake's Jeep, the only positive thing I could think of was that this would make a really funny story someday. Oh, and that she's not aging well.

I got back into the Jeep and blasted the A/C. That incident was a serious blow to my self-worth, not to mention my dwindling bank account. My overall outlook on life took a major nose dive. I couldn't continue to job search after suffering such a blow. Job applicants needed to be oozing with confidence, not pouting over a bad memory and a mean girl.

I was starting to think moving back here had been a bad idea. I'd only been home two days and already these people and events from my past were trying to bring me down. What happened to the last ten years I'd spent maturing into a cla.s.sy and confident woman? All it took was an old rival with bad hair and suddenly it was like I was back in high school again with a head filled with silly, childish insults. I mean, yes, her hair could use some serious professional help and that turquoise eye shadow didn't work with her skin tone whatsoever, but that's no reason for me to call her a stupid, ugly face. It was her personality that made her ugly, and if I stooped down to her level, I would be just as bad.

In one of the cla.s.ses I took in college, we discussed the problems criminals faced once they were released from prison after an extended period of time behind bars. I don't remember the exact wording of this theory, but it was something about how their minds stopped maturing when they entered prison. If they went in at twenty and were released at forty, their minds were still mentally age twenty. They ended up socially inept and were unable to develop mature relationships with people their own age. This usually resulted in them returning to their lives of crime. Or looking like total pervs trying to date women twenty years younger.