Chapter 9

PIPER

I smile. It’s stupid, I know but when I think about last night, being in that dark room with Ethan’s mouth on mine, I can’t help it. My heart thunders inside my chest and I can barely contain myself. The way he kissed me, held onto me. I loved every second of it, fully understanding why every girl he’s ever been with falls all over themselves for a second chance. The thought puts a damper on my mood. Not just the idea of all the girls I’ve seen Ethan with, or the many girls that have probably been in his bed. But also because I know, I’m not one of the girls who can take a chance seeing him again. Not really, when there’s really no hope for things being any different in the long run. Let’s say I meet up with him. What happens if he finds out who I am? He laughs. Or worse, he draws a blank because I’m nobody. Then there’s the aspect of deceiving him, knowing he would never kiss me with the lights on, so really it’s like I’m tricking him into it. And the knowledge of that alone is so damning, I repeat it in my head again. He would never kiss you with the lights on. And the thought tamps down my mood a little more. Still, only a little. I mean, we did make out after all.

The smile hasn’t left my face.

“What are you so happy about,” Paisley grumbles as she plops down beside me at a table at the cafe outside the student center.

“I’m excited for classes to start tomorrow,” I lie, drinking some of my soda. I open my backpack and pull out a small tube of my favorite scented lotion. The mix of vanilla, and lavender comforting enough to calm my nerves. Something about aromatherapy. Paisley holds out her hand expectantly, and I pass it to her.

She takes the bottle, squeezing some into her palm and rubbing it in, while rolling her eyes, and settling into her chair with attitude. “Of course you are.”

“What’s wrong with you,” I ask.

She pouts. “Nothing.”

“Something is definitely wrong,” I reply. “Did you have a good time at the party once I left?”

She shakes her head. “Not really.”

“Oh. Then what’d you do last night,” I ask, only because it feels like I should. She’s definitely bummed out about something, staring off into space with a frown.

She shakes her head. “Nothing. I went back to the sorority. Ended up crashing early. You were right to leave. That party sucked.”

I put on my best sympathetic face, though I’ll admit this isn’t a real problem. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m sure next weekend will be better.”

I nod, with a slight smile that doesn’t seem sincere since I’m filled with disappointment because I probably won’t be invited to see it. “And your other friends are back today right? So you’ll have plenty of people to go with.”

“I guess,” she replies. “But honestly, lately they feel less like friends and more like my competition.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs, grabbing my soda and taking a sip. “I don’t know. I’m probably just talking. Things aren’t going the way I want. And to make matters worse, I got all my last pick classes with—like—the harshest professors. I can’t believe I didn’t get anything I wanted this semester. Literature. Why do I need that?”

“You’re kidding right? You picked an English-lit major,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder.

“Because I thought it’d be easy,” she says.

I shrug. “Easy or not. It’s a requirement. And I’d like to point out, you would’ve gotten the classes you wanted had you not waited until the last possible day to register like I suggested.”

“I was busy,” she argues.

“You were shopping,” I correct. “And at the beach.”

“Last year was really hard. I had to unwind.”

There’s no getting through to Paisley when she’s like this. The victim. She’ll never see where she did anything wrong.

“They say Nelson is the worst. I have her Tuesdays and Thursdays at noon. The class is all papers and discussions. And they say her final is really hard.” Despite her poor decision making, my best friend looks seriously in distress.

Sighing, I decide to cut her a break. “I have that class this semester. I’ll help you.”

Her face lights up. “You do? You will? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

She perks up immediately, springing to her feet, grabbing my soda and lotion. “Thanks, Piper. You’re the best.”

Two girls across the quad call her name and she waves, holding up a finger, signaling she wants them to wait.

“Friends of yours,” I ask.

“Yeah,” she replies. “That’s Chloe. And the girl with her is Shaina Cartwright. I met her last night. She wants to pledge Sigma next term. I’m thinking about backing her.”

“That’s nice,” I reply, even if it does hurt a little. She’s never asked if I want to join. Never offered to back me if I do.

“As a thank you, she’s taking us to get mani-pedis. So I’m going to need a favor.”

Of course she does. I’d flash her a disapproving look but she isn’t paying me any attention, as she continues to speak. “I need you to pick up my new ID inside.” She’s pointing to the student center behind me, as she continues.“It’s ready now. You’ll just have to leave your student ID number and sign your name. We can’t be late for the booking. It’s at the most exclusive spa in the area. You understand.”

She pouts as if begging me to say yes. It’s one of the things that annoys me most with Paisley. The way she acts like I have nothing to do except run her errands or do her favors. Like her life and what she’s got going on is more important than anything happening in my life because to her I have no life. She’s not wrong about that. But it’s still annoying. It’s also annoying when she continues to beg. To poke out her lip like that face actually works when you’re an adult. Then she whines and I give in.

“Fine.”

“See,” she says. “The best. Talk later.” She hurries away to catch up to her friends. I’m sure she’ll introduce me later.

Rising from my seat, I prepare to go inside but stop instantly when I see Ethan across the way. He steps outside of the dorm he was just in and instantly my entire world freezes. It’d be remarkable if it wasn’t so sad. The way every bit of me has always reacted to him. That attraction that I feel up to my scalp when it prickles. Down my spine in a warm shiver that only gets worse if his eyes are on me. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I try convincing my lungs, but it’s of no use now that I’ve tasted Ethan’s lips. He knows exactly how to kiss. How to hold someone and make them feel like they’re special. It’s probably the reason my knees are getting weak. My heart is racing. My panties damp.

He looks around, eyes roaming the quad, and my body remembers how to move again. I hurry into the doors of the student center. With the exception of last night, it’s the usual program. He doesn’t notice me. But I still maintain my position behind a small block of wall between two large windows inside the building, like some kind of weirdo, as I stare at him. He really is magnificent. Tall, at least five whole inches taller than my five-foot-six stature. And strong, he’s got biceps that look like he spends a fair amount of time doing pull-ups. He’s freaking strong with sexy muscles throughout his hot body right down to strong thighs and a great ass. Sometimes when I see him around campus, I watch it flex while he walks. And I picture the feel of it under my hand while he thrusts in and out of me. So far, that’s my favorite go-to fantasy. The one where he sneaks into my room and we’d make love passionately, with my hand on his ass. Oh God, I am a weirdo. But I still continue to watch him.

He greets a few guys then continues to walk towards his car, pulling his keys from his pocket. He tosses them up and catches them in his large hand. A hand I wouldn’t mind all over my body. I think I’m blushing. I’m definitely ogling, watching as he pops the locks, then turns, letting me check out the very ass my imagination just drifted off to. And—yup— still fit and tight. And bitable. Did I just think that? Yes I did. And even worse, I’m thinking about how I had my chance. Of how I still have a chance if I wanted because I could show up and meet him tonight. Maybe steal one more kiss. Maybe go for more, go as far as I want with him, and relive the moment again and again in my head for years instead of fabricating scenarios from scratch. I mean, this is going against everything I said last night. But maybe that’s because I’m still wondering what-if.

Stealing one last glance, I watch Ethan start his car. He rolls down the windows and prepares to back out of his parking space, when two girls come rushing up to him. I can see him put the car into park and lean to the side, flashing a flirting smirk their way. They both swoon, swaying from side to side, laughing at whatever he says. Then he smiles bright. Damnit. It’s hot too, the way he smiles and looks them over. They’re eating it up. And I’m getting sicker by the second. Only to reach total nausea when I see him hold out his hand. The first girl places her phone into it, and he pushes a bunch of buttons before passing it back. The same motion is repeated with the other girl, who’s smiling just as wide as her friend.

My hopes dashed again, I push off the wall. I can’t believe one make out session suckered me so bad. The fact that Ethan just gave his number to two girls—two friends—says he’s not the guy I should be so fixated on. How could I forget so easily that he’s such a man-whore? Even worse, why am I still harboring a schoolgirl crush on him?

I’m angry with myself. I’m angry with him. But that doesn’t stop me from shamefully looking out the window once I reach the help desk to see the black SUV, Ethan got in, is long gone. Something inside withers. It crunches inward like all those other times I mentioned before, seeing Ethan with someone—anyone who isn’t me. Then the humiliation rushes in. The feeling that maybe I’m just not good enough. At least, not with the lights on.

The thought makes me glance into the mirror behind the guy at the counter that’s getting Paisley’s ID. I’ve never had an overabundance of confidence, but I don't think I'm ugly. Natural chestnut brown hair and full arched eyebrows that the girls are drawing on, but take little maintenance on my part. My lips are full—pouty even. And my eyes are blue. From what I’ve seen, my body is reminiscent of what people are manufacturing during their BBL makeover consultations. So all in all, I simply don’t get it. I just don’t. But somehow, for Ethan, I don’t seem to measure up. I’m not one of the girls he looks at, dates, gives his number to. I’m the one he kisses in the dark. Only in the dark. And I’m just not sure I can live with that.