Breaking Fences (The Breaking Series) (5 page)

But I didn’t want it either.

The same guy walked by us, and I touched his arm.

“Oh, hello there, beautiful,” he said, flashing me a big smile. “Haven’t seen you around here. Are you with them?” He gestured to Audrey, Sarah, and Molly.

“She’s with us, Robbie, but she’s not at the sorority,” Sarah said.

“What’s your name?” the guy asked.

“Bia.”

“Do I detect a hint of accent there?”

“Yes, I’m Brazilian.” His eyes went wide, and I saw his jaw working. He would ask the many questions I always got, so I cut him off. “Listen, are there more drinks back there?” I gestured to the beer and the stand.

“Yeah, we have a full bar. Want me to get you anything?”

“No, thanks. I can get it myself.” I turned to the girls and said, “Be right back.”

I walked to the narrow alley between the stands. I had to tiptoe around a girl from the ATN and a guy from The Bat, who were leaning against the wall in a full make-out session. I averted my eyes, not from embarrassment, but because I wanted that too. I mean, I wouldn’t kiss just any guy—that wasn’t me—but I missed it. I missed flirting; I missed being held and kissed. I sighed, reminding myself that I was here now, away from my father and my brothers. What better place was there to flirt and go on a couple of dates than during college? If it was like in Brazil, this was the best place to get my heart broken a few times. After all, that was all part of life, right?

I entered through the back door and halted. Robbie wasn’t kidding. They had a tall shelf filled with bottles, a mini fridge, and three coolers in the back of the stand.

I threw the beer in a garbage can, found one of the many bottles of whiskey, poured a good dose in a red cup, grabbed a can of Coke from inside the fridge, and dumped half of it with the whiskey.

“My kind of girl.”

I jumped and nearly dropped the cup. Bah, if I had dropped it, my boots would have been ruined and I would have killed the jerk who—

I turned around, ready to yell at whomever, but shut my mouth when I found myself face-to-face with Garrett.

He sidestepped me and poured himself some of whiskey. No Coke. He extended his cup to me. I just watched it. One side of his lips twitched up, and he wrapped his finger around my wrist and moved my arm, until our cups bumped into each other. “Cheers.” He let go of my arm and took a sip from his cup.

I cleared my throat and drank a big gulp.

In silence, we watched the guys lining up to kiss random girls through a small glass window in the center of the front door. One of them walked away from his turn wiping his mouth, and I laughed.

However, when I heard Garrett’s low chuckle, I remembered I wasn’t alone and shut my mouth. I hadn’t been this nervous around a guy in so long. But then again, I hadn’t been alone with a guy in so long.

“I like your boots,” he said, breaking the ice.

I glanced at him.
Meu Deus
, the guy was tall. His hazel eyes fixed on me. All right. Wasn’t I just complaining that I missed flirting?

“I like them too,” I said. These weren’t my favorite, but they were close. Seeing he was wearing cowboy boots, I pointed to his feet. “I like yours too.”

He glanced down and shrugged. “Are you a real cowgirl, or is it for show?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you a real cowboy, or is it for show?”

“Do you always answer questions with more questions?”

I smiled. “Do you?”

His lopsided grin faded, and the shine behind his eyes darkened. My heart skipped a beat, and I held his stare. I wouldn’t be the one to break this showdown.

“You—”

“There you are!” Jonah barged into the stand. “Oh, the Brazilian girl.” Really? I suppressed a groan. “Good to see you again.” He grabbed a beer from one of the coolers.

“Hey,” I said, feeling like I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He put an arm around Garrett’s shoulders. Garrett had about two inches on him. “I see you met my bro.”

I frowned. “Your bro? As in big brother, little brother from the fraternity thing?”

“No. Garrett isn’t in the fraternity, not anymore. He’s my half-brother.”

Garrett took a long swallow of his drink and looked out the window to the front.

What did one say to that? Cool? Nice? Oh? I decided on, “I gotta get back to the girls.” I turned around. Without looking at them, I exited the stand and rejoined the girls. They hadn’t moved, though there were two other girls with them.

I squeezed into their circle and soon learned one girl, Evelyn, had joined the sorority last night, and the other was named Jennifer and she had been with the sorority for a year.

In a matter of minutes, I had emptied my glass. I pondered going back to The Bat stand and refilling my drink, but I wasn’t sure about it. What were the odds of meeting Jonah or Garrett back there again? Probably zero. And even if they were there, what was I afraid of? It was ridiculous.

I stepped back and turned around, and ran directly into Jonah. The glass he was holding—beer—washed over my white blouse.

“Fuck,” he said, his eyes wide.

Audrey, Sarah, Molly, Jennifer, and Evelyn grouped around us.

“Oh, that’s going to stain,” Molly said.

“I’m so sorry.” Jonah took off one of his shirts and dabbed at my chest. Audrey shot him a hard look, and he reddened. “I’m sorry.”

He let go of the shirt and I took it, not that I wanted it, but it was already ruined too. “It’s okay.”

Behind Jonah, Garrett walked past, his attention on me. Was this such a big scene? I scanned around and found a few other people looking at us.

“Your bra is showing,” Sarah whispered.

I looked down and sure enough, the white fabric was now transparent. I pressed Jonah’s shirt to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” Jonah repeated. “Your car, now your shirt.”

“What about her car?” Audrey asked, narrowing her eyes.

Jonah ignored her and went on. “I want to pay for it. The car and the dry cleaning.”

I shook my head. “It was nothing. I can take care of both myself.”

“Nonsense.” He glanced to where Garrett was standing by the side and nodded at him. He took my hand in his. “I’m serious. I want to make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His blue eyes were all but begging. “We’ll talk more about this later,” Jonah said. Feeling like a bitch, I pulled my hand from his. Then he smiled, taking his time to look at each one of us. “Excuse me, ladies.”

He stepped back and joined Garrett and Jeff.

Jennifer sighed, her eyes following the guys as they walked into the crowd. “He’s so dreamy.”

Sarah chuckled. “If you say so.”

“Who?” I asked without thinking. Maybe I shouldn’t stick my nose in Jennifer’s business, but now it was too late.

“Garrett,” Jennifer said, her voice mellow.

I frowned. “Oh.” Wait. Did she like him? Did he like her back? Before I could ask her more about it, Audrey stepped into my line of sight.

“What happened with your car?” she asked, her tone flat.

I told them what happened, and how I was being lazy by not getting my car to a body shop.

“He’ll bother you until you let him do what he wants,” Audrey said. Her eyes hardened. “If I were you, I would get your car fixed ASAP. And your blouse.”

The blouse was ruined. No dry cleaning would be able to take out the stain. As for the car, I wasn’t in a hurry. It was such a small dent and I barely used my car. A few days or weeks until I took it down to a shop wouldn’t make any difference.

The girls shifted in conversation—back to sororities and all the fun they had and would have—and I stepped back, wishing to go to my room so I could take a shower and change out of these clothes.

“I’ll clean up,” I said to no one.

But Audrey heard me. She glanced my way, a crease between her brows. “No need to hurry.”

What did that mean?

Without another word, I walked out of the courtyard.

A great day had taken a wrong turn, and suddenly, I felt completely out of place.

Chapter Five

Sunday evening was my first laundry day. Ever.

Loaded with a basketful of dirty clothes, I descended the stairs to the first floor, where the common laundry room was, feeling kind of stupid that I had never done my laundry by myself before. I mean, I knew what I had to do, what kind of wash for each type of clothing, and if the machines were older models, I should separate colors and all, but I had never done it. Being born into a family with money, we always had a maid who did it all, even here in the United States.

I wasn’t spoiled though. Yes, I could buy almost anything I wanted, but I also was hard working and never minded getting my hands dirty working with horses. In fact, I liked it and wouldn’t change that for all the money in the world.

I entered the laundry room on the corner of the building, and the three girls inside stopped talking. They glanced over me, their eyes appraising.

“Hi,” I said, turning toward the free machines in the corner.

They nodded, but didn’t really greet me.

As I loaded two washers, they resumed chatting, but their voices were lower, and when I looked over my shoulder, they were watching me.

What the hell?

I put a hand on my hip and stared at them. “Did you lose something?”

The blonde with a pink headband gasped, the short brunette with silver glasses put her hand over her mouth, and the black, pixie-haired one glared at me.

“Are we bothering you?”

“Not yet,” I retorted. “Keep watching me and you might.”

She humphed and flipped her hair to me. They exchanged a few words before walking out of the laundry room.

I sighed. These people were weird, as weird as the fact that they left with the machines on, filled with their clothes. If they were in Brazil, the clothes would be gone by now. Nobody left cars unlocked, or anything of value inside their cars. Here, people left the windows of their cars rolled down while they were inside malls or grocery stores. Wasn’t anyone afraid his or her car wouldn’t be there when he or she got out?

Hannah laughed each time I had a mini crazy-attack when she did stuff like that. I would never get used to it.

I had brought my iPad down, so I could sit around here and pass the time while waiting for my load to be done, but maybe it was time to try it out. To relax and let it go. To do what an American would do. Like an experiment. If it didn’t work out, if my clothes got stolen, I wouldn’t be too upset. My favorite jeans and shorts were in there, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. I was sure Leo wouldn’t be mad at me for buying new ones.

Which would be totally unnecessary if I didn’t let them get stolen in the first place.

Shaking my head, I turned on the machines. I whirled on the heels of my pretty boots and walked to the half-closed door. I was about to step out when I heard hushed voices directly behind the door.

“She’s in there?” a girl asked.

“The Brazilian girl, yes,” another one answered.

“How do you know it’s her?” the first girl—girl A—asked.

“Her accent,” girl B said.

“Is she as pretty as they say?”

“Yes. More than I thought she would be. Tallish, long legs, round butt, tiny waist, long brown hair a la Victoria’s Secret, and bright green eyes.”

“They were blue.”

“I think they were green.”

“No, blue.”

“All right, I get it,” girl A said. “Is she like they say she is? And I don’t mean her beauty …”

“I-I don’t know,” girl B said. “She was pretty ballsy though, confronting us while everyone else would probably pretend nothing happened.”

I smiled. Damn right. To prove to them how ballsy I was, I opened the door and walked out, strolling past the three girls who had been inside with me, and two others, who had joined them. I didn’t need to look at them to know they were glaring at me.

An urge to stop, face them, and ask them what their problem was burst in me, but I held on to it. Being ballsy was one thing. Being aggressive and sounding like a bitch would get me zero friends.

I stepped onto the stairs, and once out of sight, I slowed down.

“Told you she was ballsy,” girl B said.

“And beautiful,” another one said.

“Whatever,” girl A said. “I don’t give a damn. She’s Brazilian, and you know how Brazilian girls are. We’re way better than her.”

What the hell did that mean?

Before I could ponder, I heard their footsteps closing in on the stairs, so I rushed up two steps at a time, and ran to my room.

Sometimes I hated being Brazilian.

***

My second week in Fort Howell went well by all accounts. I was better now. Things were going fine. Molly had stopped bitching about the sororities, and she was back to her excited self. Audrey and Sarah seemed okay with my choice too, Phoebe was great so far, and there was plenty of eye candy around. The doubts that haunted me all summer about practically starting over in school, about being among younger students, about being away from my family for the first time, about leaving Brazil—none of that bothered me anymore. Not as much as before anyway. I tried to think that the two years of vet school in Brazil hadn’t been wasted. After all, I got credit for a few classes. I even got credits for foreign language with Portuguese. One less thing on my to-do list.