The Opportunist Part 3

A box was sitting on my neatly made bed when I emerged. I quickly removed it and dusted the spot where it had been. Cammie rolled her eyes and collapsed onto her own bed, which hadn't been made in a week.

"Open the thing won't you? It was hand delivered by that creepy guy from the campus post office. He even tried to smell my hair when I took it from him."

"He has sinus problems," I said grabbing the scissors, "don't flatter yourself." The box opened, and I stared into it not quite sure of what I was seeing.

"It's a deflated basketball," I said holding it up to show Cammie. There was an envelope attached to it. Cammie sat up her eyes suddenly alert.

"No genius, that's the deflated basketball!"

I swallowed hard as I read the note: Olivia, Time to pay up. Meet me in the library in ten minutes.

-Caleb "Unbelievable!" I said holding the ball in my hand. "Not even a please! He pretty much commanded me to be there!"

"You're going." Cammie stood up, hands on her hips.

I sucked in the corners of my mouth and shook my head-'no'.

"OLIVIA! You ruined the most important game of the season for him! You owe him."

I sort of did.

"Fine. FINE!!" I shouted, meeting her tone. I grabbed a hoodie from my closet and violently pulled it over my head. "But this is it, okay?" I said, stabbing my finger at her. "I'm meeting him in the library, and then I don't want to hear another word about it from you or him or that d.a.m.n cheerleading squad!"

Cammie beamed. "Make sure you remember every detail and try to mention my name."

I slammed the door on my way out.

At nine thirty on Friday night, the Dart Library was practically a ghost town. A crusty-faced woman was standing behind the checkout counter glaring at two freshmen who were making out. I pa.s.sed a picture of Laura Helberman on the wall with information to contact authorities if she was seen. She was pretty in a Daisy Duke kind of way. Blonde hair, lots of mascara, and puckered lips that looked like they had just sucked on a lollipop. She had been missing for sixteen days and her story was being covered by Nancy Grace-my hero.

I sighed. I was early. I decided to take a stroll to the fiction section to see if there was anything worth checking out.

Caleb found me there a few minutes later.

"h.e.l.lo, Olivia," he strolled up to me with such ridiculous confidence that I wanted to stick my foot out and trip him.

"Caleb," I nodded at him curtly.

He was wearing a black pea coat over an expensive looking cream sweater. My heart did a little gallop. I disciplined my heart, calmed it down and turned to face him. His hands were tucked causally into the pockets of his corduroys. Very GQ. I had expected him to show up in one of those silly basketball jackets and a dingy pair of jeans.

"Why are you so dressed up?" I snapped, adding a novel to the growing pile of books on the table.

"How do you find time to read?" he asked, picking up the book and examining the cover. I wasn't going to tell him that I didn't have a life and that I read my weekends away. I sent him a scalding look and hoped that he would drop the subject. The stupid jock had probably never read a book cover to cover. I was about to tell him so when he walked down the aisle next to me and came back carrying a chunky novel in his hand.

"Try this. It's my favorite book."

I looked at him warily before plucking it from his fingers.

Great Expectations. I had never read it.

"You're kidding?"

He grinned.

"Do you think that because I play basketball, I'm illiterate?"

I sniffed. That is exactly what I thought.

"Why did you ask me to come here?"

"I thought that you might be more comfortable meeting me here." He perched himself on the edge of a table. "Did you think that I wouldn't want to collect on our bet?"

I was noticing an accent for the first time. British, I thought but I couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, it had the same effect on me as vodka.

"I asked you to miss the shot. I didn't say I would go out with you if you did."

"Really? I don't quite remember it that way." He narrowed his eyes and c.o.c.ked his head, pretending to be confused. I was the only one allowed to be sarcastic.

"You will go out with me, Olivia, because as much as you hate to admit it, you were wrong about me."

My mouth opened and closed. My wit! Where was my wit?

"I...uhhh..."

"No," he cut me off. "No excuses. I'm taking you out on a date."

"Okay." I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. "A deal's a deal."

Cammie was going to love me for this. Love me!

"Wednesday, eight o' clock." He stood. I backed up a step. He was so tall.

He started walking away and then stopped.

"Olivia?"

"What?" I snapped.

"I'm going to kiss you. Just so you know."

I heard his laughter echo across the library as he left. Over my dead body. Why did he have to be so good looking? And why did my name sound so pretty when he said it?

I s.n.a.t.c.hed up my books and went to checkout.

Chapter Four.

I was afraid of him. He was outplaying me, plucking all of my weapons from my fingers and making me feel like a toothless tiger. My solution was to hide in my room until Wednesday to avoid a run-in with him. Cammie kept me alive on frozen burritos and her private stash of Boston Baked Beans. I read Great Expectations, which as it turned out was really good. I Googled the rules of basketball so I cold fully understand what had happened when he missed that shot.

When the day of the date finally arrived, I was almost looking forward to it, almost. Cammie set up a grooming station at her study desk (which unfortunately had never been used for studying), and I sat obediently like a chimp, while she groomed me. She picked at my hair, buffed my nails, and dabbed obscene smelling potions on my face. When she started lecturing me on safe s.e.x, I jammed my headphones into my ears and turned the volume on high.

At exactly seven fifty-five, there was a polite tap, tap, tap on the door. Cammie jumped up and down, her face grotesquely frozen in silent screams.

"He's actually going to be in our room!" she hissed, dancing over to the door. She ran a tube of pink gloss over her lips before unlatching the door.

I stood back while s.l.u.tty mother freshman let our date in.

"Oh, h.e.l.lo," she said casually. "I'm Cammie," she offered him her hand and he shook it smiling politely. When his eyes found me he did a double take. I looked nice. Cammie had outdone herself. I was wearing jeans and a slinky cashmere sweater that slipped off one shoulder. My hair, as usual, hung in ropey waves to my waist, but Cammie had taken the time to style a poof and spritz it with sinful amounts of hairspray.

"Well, let's go then," I said, walking past him and out into the hall. I turned to watch him say goodbye to Cammie.

"I won't have her back too late," I heard him say.

"Oh, keep her out as long as you like," she said in her southern drawl, "She needs a firm hand so don't be afraid to use one." She looked directly at me with that last statement. I made plans to sabotage her English Comp paper when I got back.

"She's a character," Caleb said as the door shut behind us.

I grimaced.

Understatement.

"She's from Texas," I said, as if that explained her behavior and then I blushed. Why did I say that? I looked up at his face to see him half smiling at me.

It took all of my self -control not to turn around and go back to my room. In the end, pride kept my feet moving. I didn't want him to think that I couldn't handle myself.

We pa.s.sed two cheerleaders on our way to the elevator. Their eyes grew large when they caught sight of Caleb. He nodded at them politely, but kept moving, his hand on the small of my back. I tried to scoot away, but he was pretty adept at keeping it there.

"Do you take compliments?" he asked as we stepped into the elevator and I pressed the down b.u.t.ton before he had the chance.

"If they're original."

He snickered and rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay," he said. He was trying not to laugh at the expression on my face. "Let's see. You can kill with a smile, you can wound with your eyes...."

"That's not original, that's a Billy Joel song," I interrupted. "And what kind of compliment is that anyway?"

We were walking toward his car. His hands were now in his pockets as we strolled casually.

"I'd say that song was written for you, but if you're going to be picky..." his voice trailed off. "Do you want the jock to compliment you or the guy who reads Great Expectations?"

"Both." I was trying to appear like I wasn't enjoying this little exchange but I could already feel my shoulders relaxing, and now that his hand wasn't on my back, I could think again. We reached his car and I stood at the door with my back to him, waiting for him to unlock it.

"Whether I'm standing behind you or facing you, the view's pretty nice," he said.

I felt my face flush as the automatic locks clicked and he held the door open for me. I could hear the suppressed laughter in his voice so I climbed in without a word. I had never met anyone so intent on making me feel uncomfortable. He took his time walking around the car. I watched him intently. He was wearing another one of those impressively well put together outfits.

I sank into the seat and breathed in the scent of his cologne. It permeated the leather seats like skin, making it smell like he was everywhere. The smell was Christma.s.sy, like Douglas firs and Bergamot oranges. I liked it.

"Put your seatbelt on," he said, sliding in the driver's seat.

I pursed my lips. No way. He was not going to order me around.

"I'm not putting it on." The restored VW Bug that I owned didn't even have seatbelts. One of its previous owners had cut them out. I silently chided myself for not taking my own car.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, something I was starting to notice he did quite often.

"Suit yourself," he said shrugging. "If we come to any fast stops, I'll just reach out my arm like this to stop you from jerking forward." He ill.u.s.trated his point by extending his arm across my chest where it came in direct contact with my B-cups.

I put my seat belt on. He didn't even try not to smile.

"Where are we going anyway?" I asked bitterly. Hopefully, we could make this quick and I could be back to my room in time to watch Grey's Anatomy. Handsome, fictional men were so much easier to stomach than real life ones who smelled of Christmas and looked like a Calvin Klein model.

"To my favorite date spot." He looked over at me as his hands shifted gears and I felt unwelcome warmth in my belly. I had a hand fetish. His hands were big, probably beneficial for that stupid sport he played. His were the kind of hands that made wedding rings look s.e.xy-tan with vein lines that ran like snaking rivers to his wrist and disappeared under his sleeves.

"This isn't a date," I reminded him. "And, it's really lame that you just told me you're taking me somewhere you've taken other girls."

"Right. Well next time I'll remember to lie to you then," he said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

"What makes you think there will be a next time?"

"What makes you think there won't?"

I didn't bother looking at him I just sniffed my response and stared out the window.

Jaxson's Old Fashioned Ice Cream was located on one of the busier streets in Dania. Its neon circus sign blinked impatiently from a nondescript shopping plaza, working overtime to attract the attention of pa.s.sersby. Despite the bright lights, the cutouts where tourists place their heads on animal bodies, and the blaring organ music, I had never noticed the place.

"Oh," I said, trying to mask my surprise. "This is interesting."

"Are you lactose intolerant?" he asked sliding his car into a parking spot.

"Nope."

"On a diet?"

"Not this week."

"Great. Then you're going to love it." He came around to open my door, and offered me his hand as I maneuvered my way out of the car.