Falling for Seven (6 page)

“Julian?” Her voice was gravelly from the disturbance and she twisted her head, her eyes narrowing from the grainy light of the TV.

“I’ll walk you home,” I said. “I can’t have you sleeping on my sofa.”

She wiped her eyes and I helped her into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

“Late. Come on.”

She stood up, making the small movement with great effort. She wasn’t showing yet, but she’d told me how tired she was all the time. “You don’t have to walk me,” she said, grabbing her purse and keys from the small table. “I’m right across the street.” She smiled. “I think I got it.”

I tailed her outside and followed her up the stairs to her apartment. She slid her key in the lock and opened the door.

“Thanks for watching Taj,” I said. “Mom had to pull a double.”

She downplayed her huge favor, just like she always did. “I was home anyway. Did you have a good night?”

I smiled, but it lay crooked on my face. “I’m in no rush to party again.”

“Really? That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

“I won’t ask. Are you still cool for Monday?” her eyes regarded me carefully, like I Might change my mind and suddenly say no.

“Sure. What time did you want to leave?”

“I have to be there at one, so, twelve-thirty?”

“No problem.”

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I minded. Anyway, you need someone there with you for this kinda shit, right? Might as well be me.”

She breezily sucker punched me in the arm and I felt the urge to run before she had me saying things I didn’t really mean. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Turns out, I do.”

“Goodnight, Julian.”

“Night, Kris.” I waited till the door was fully closed before taking the steps back down two at a time. My mom’s silver Ford was pulling up on the curb. I grabbed her car door while she rummaged around on the floor, searching for her purse. It was like a fucking sack, I didn’t know how she ever managed to misplace it.

“Thanks, baby.” She got out, tossing her purse up onto her shoulder. “Have I caught you red handed?” She raised one eyebrow in question to me leaving Kristina’s.

“I walked her home. I’m taking her to her antenatal appointment on Monday. She’s meeting her midwife.”

I saw my mom’s shoulders slump on a sigh as she pushed open our front door. She dropped her purse onto the kitchen table and crossed her arms over her chest. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, mom. I owe her.”

“Are you sure it’s not your baby? You’re very hands on.” Anyone else’s mom might have screamed that question, but not mine. She’d seen too much in thirty six years to bat an eyelash at my ex knocked up with possibly her eldest son’s kid.”

“It’s not mine,” I said on the end of a smile. “How was work?”

She had just pulled a twelve hour shift at Remy’s insurance company, one of two jobs. Tomorrow she would go to the clinic until it was time to pick up Taj, my little brother from school, and then back to Remy’s.

“It was work. Need I say more? Gary is on my back constantly.” It was 10:45 and she had work again at seven in the morning, but she was reaching in the fridge for her bottle of wine.

“Get me one,” I said, pulling out a chair to sit.

She popped the cap on a Bud for me with the bottle opener and poured herself a full glass of wine. We sat across from each other and she arched her back from the chair, rolling her neck. “God, I’m so tired. Haven’t we won the lottery yet?”

“We’d need to play first. I could always ask Pat for more hours at the garage, out of season.”

“You will not,” my mom sad, matter-of-fact. “College comes first. Besides, I’ll reap all the benefits when you go pro and get me and Taj out of this dump and into some big-ass condo by the ocean.”

“You need to tell Gary to back off,” I said, changing the subject. He was her boss and he was crushing on her like a fucking hormonal teenager. He took his shit out on her whenever she showed disinterest or dared mention other men in front of him. He was that kid in the playground that pulled the hair of the girl he secretly liked, but didn’t have the balls to say it. Except this wasn’t school, he was balding and he was a grown man in his place of business. I hated the asshole.

“He’s harmless,” she said after a sip of wine.

“He needs to get his dick wet and maybe he’ll calm down.” My mom’s laughter filled the kitchen. It was a good thing Taj couldn’t hear us.

“It won’t be from me,” she said, catching a breath, and I smiled. I liked it when she laughed. The infectious sound made me believe for a couple minutes that her shitty life wasn’t as bad as it looked.

EVERYTHING HAD SPIRALLE
D
horriblyout of control. I was so happy t
o
se
e
Jorda
n
and the fact that he had showed up unannounced. He didn’t do things like that. Not for me, anyway. And never at all if he had planned to spend that time with his friends, to which I was never invited. I shouldn’t feel too bad, though. None of the girlfriends got invites. It was like a big gay club only Jordan and the guys had exclusivity to. But here he was, standing in Kit’s garden. His dark-brown hair and green eyes, along with his long, lean body were all my dreams in one six-two package. I wasn’t even mad that he wanted to stay. I just wanted to be with him, be near him—touch him. I acted like it didn’t bother me when he agreed to play their game—agreed to the chance of kissing another girl—agreed to me kissing another guy. But there we were, for once with the same crowd, side by side, and he was crushing me again. How many times could I put myself through these games with him? And just like every other time, it was different for him. He never lost. He never felt the pain that I felt at the thought him with someone else.

I’d sat with Jordan dead ahead of me, which was the worst part of all—an unobstructed view if it came down to him doing anything with another girl. A few guys from the football team were there: Rocco with the hoop earring and the brown comb over, Drift, mixed race with a fade. Rixton was the strawberry blond who looked like Clint Eastwood’s son—can’t remember his name—but it was him, only without the money or the fame. (Well maybe
some
of the fame. This was college football after all.) And the last person I was introduced to was Dan with the black buzz-cut and the most amazing eyelashes.

The girls—I had no idea who they were. Kit only thought it appropriate to run through the boy’s names. We used Julian’s empty vodka bottle after everyone helped to finish it off, and I was already buzzed. I was such a lightweight. When Kit spun the bottle I’d felt nervous, but I’d bet good money I was the only one. Everyone else looked relax—excited even. I held my breath as the bottle started to shed its speed. And then my breathing stopped completely when the bottle stalled, pointing directly at me. I stared at Kit in what may have looked to everyone else like fear. I was not going lesbian.

“You first, Angel.” She was giggling.

Oh, shit.

I smiled, a disguise filled with nerves, and felt a robotic sensation when my hand reached out to spin the bottle, my eyes seeking out Jordan. There was no good outcome here, I didn’t want it to land anyone other than Jordan. Then he would take a turn, and then what? Why did I agree to this? I could have said no. I
should
have said no, because the neck of the glass landed on Nicky.

I laughed, but not because it was funny—because I was shitting myself. Julian was right by Nicky, but he wasn’t laughing, he wasn’t even smiling. He looked mad and I found that small consolation pleased me. It was about time the smirk was wiped from his face.

But not in this way.

“Angel,” said Kit, “Get Nicky hard.”
I could feel my mouth hanging open. “But you have to do it here, so we can all see that it really happened.”

I’d stupidly expected Jordan to shout out his disapproval of the dare, tell Kit there wasn’t a chance in hell he would watch me do that.

But his outburst of rage never vocalized.

I looked again at him. There was nothing of any substance in his expression. No encouragement, no resistance. Just nothing.

My heart sank when he Okayed it and sat there silent, more than willing to let me get on with it. Jordan had never fought for me a day in his life, and I felt in his own way that he was daring me himself, testing how far he could push me before I was totally broken. Maybe he didn’t really want me like I believed he did.
Every
fucking time I found myself here with him. This same scenario of feelings only a different circumstance of events. The cloud of doubt had always hung heavy, but it was finally raining the truth that he might not ever truly love me. Not as much as I loved him. And then I was slapped with another home truth.

It didn’t matter.

“Hey, are you crying?” Mia stood over me, peering into my face with a searching gaze.

“No.” I blinked, and two fat tears came loose. I quickly wiped them and smiled when she frowned.

Marilyn chose that exact moment to walk into the room that I shared with Mia. Marilyn had a bedroom to herself. “Don’t tell me,” she said, crossing her arms with a pissed off look on her face. “Jordan, right? I wish you would rub your eyes already and see what the rest of us do.” She lifted her messenger bag over her head, tossing it to the floor and dropped down onto my bed.

“So what has he done now? And
do not
say nothing or I will kick your ass all over campus. Mia, what did he do?”

Mia scowled. “How am I supposed to know? Do I look like an interfering bitch to you?”

Marilyn’s eyebrows crept higher up onto her forehead. “Did you just call me a bitch?”

Mia rolled her eyes and locked herself in the bathroom.

“So?” Marilyn dug her toes into my outer thigh, creating a blast of pain. “What’s going on?”

The embarrassment of last night was too raw to tell her the truth, so I shifted my leg from her creepy foot and said, “You know how it is. He’s blowing hot and cold constantly, and at the minute things are more on the frosty side.”

“You know you’re in an abusive relationship,” Marilyn stated confidently.

I slid her a disbelieving look. “I am not. This is why I don’t like talking about him to you. You only ever see the bad side.”

“Oh, there’s a good side? Sorry, I never realized.” Her lack of smugness let me know she wasn’t buying a word of it. We might not be blood, but she knew me better than anyone other than my mom. My dad married her mom, Pamela—a Boston native—when I was nine and Marilyn was eleven. The marriage lasted four years but Marilyn and I were for life. Pamela might irritate my dad to death but I loved her as much as I did her daughter.

“He doesn’t always act like what you see. When it’s me and him, it’s different… it feels different.” Marilyn had heard more of Jordan than she had seen him. The times she had been by to visit, not long after I’d moved to Boston, Jordan and I were barely friends. Any judgements she had were purely from my own confessions.

“This is me you are talking to here, Angel. I know what it’s like. You think he’s the be all and end all, the sun rises and sets on his ass, you’ll never find anyone as amazing as him. But if he’s only committed when there’s no one watching, is that really so amazing?”

I scraped two hands down my face. Marilyn’s words resonated with echoes of what I already knew were true. I turned sideways with a slow sigh. “I love him,” I said, pitifully. It was just that simple. “What am I supposed to do? I’m not ready to throw in the towel. He doesn’t do girlfriends, this is new to him. He’s still learning how to act.”

She leaned forward on crossed legs, her light-brown hair wrapping around her shoulders. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt. Not more than it’s supposed to feel good. I’m not denying you love him, I can see you do. But that’s because you haven’t experienced anything different. It’s none of my business what you do or don’t do, all I want is for you to smile once in a while. Maybe even be happy.”

“I am happy.” Truth or lie? I could no longer tell the difference.

“Now onto the juicy stuff.” Marilyn looked at me with a brightly-lit smile. “I happen to have it on good authority that you have been spotted more than once with Julian Lawson. What’s all that about?” Julian and Marilyn were both juniors, but as far as I knew they didn’t run in the same circles. “He is like the hottest guy at BU, but Kit is going to kill you, you know that, right?” She followed that with an exaggerated eye-bugging. “Michael won’t be too pleased, either. I can’t lie, I love it. My lil’ sis, kicking it with the baddest boy around.”

I was forced to smile even though she was nowhere near accurate with her observations. “We take the same Sociology class and he’s my partner for an assignment for the next eight weeks. But not for much longer,” I said, standing up. “Because I am going right now to get that changed.”

“Why?” Marilyn’s face dropped into a dissatisfied frown.

“Because,” I said, getting into my hoody, “I don’t like him and he has no intentions of helping me pass.”

“But he’s so fucking sexy,” she theorized, like that was all the consideration needed to get me my A.

“Sexy doesn’t really mean anything,” I clarified, starting for the door. “I mean, have you actually spoken to him? The guys a bit of a jerk.”

“Uh, yeah,” she clarified, “I’ve spoken to him. Many times.”

“Have you—”

“Slept with him? God no. But I imagine it’s one of those things you have to try before you die. Or at least graduate.”

I smiled, halfway out the door. “Paid education is wasted on you when you’ve already found the meaning of life.”

“I know you are being a sarcastic cow, but I’m taking that as a compliment!” Marilyn shouted before the door closed on her shrill voice.

<>

I knocked on the auditorium door with over exerted force so I wouldn’t go unheard.

“Come in.”

I opened the door and stepped inside the empty hall. Marcus sat behind his desk, in front of a splay of papers. He set down his pen and smiled at me. “Angel,
is it
?”

When I nodded, he said, “What can I do for you?”

I lingered by the door, not bothering to close it. I guess a part of me was ready for the immediate ‘no’ answer. “I wanted to ask if you could find me someone else to partner with, for the assignment.”

He was quick with the sympathetic smile, sloping downwards on his face.

Can’t believe I ever liked this guy.

“I’m sorry, you picked yourselves. You’ll have to get someone to switch with you.”

I was afraid he might say that.

“It’s Julian,” I rushed on, “I can’t work with him. He’s impossible.”

Marcus’s soft laughed drifted across the hall. “He’s a handful all right.”

“Well thanks,” I said glumly.
For nothing.

I was about to leave when the sound of Marcus’s voice stopped me.

“Tell me the problem with Julian.”

I turned back, hope igniting in my lifted frown. “He’s intolerable.”

“You’ve both already made a great start.” He smiled. He was too young and excited to see the problem from my point of view if he was going to start his argument with a statement like that one.

I snorted. “How on earth do you figure that?”

“Opposites attract, and if things are already this
insufferable,
then the two of you could make a really great paper—really get to know each other and dig under those hard layers of protest and resistance. I think you might just end up with something great. Maybe you more than Julian. That kid doesn’t listen, he’s a law unto himself.” Marcus shook his head from the thought.

“Are you telling me that you are going to make me work with him?”

“You make excellent partners. Where’s the fun in pairing with someone who will make everything easy and reads like cardboard? Earn your grade, Angel. Everything’s better when you work for it; when you’ve truly earned it.”

I sighed in disappointment. “You are such a teacher.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Are you sure you couldn’t move some things around, persuade someone to switch with me?” I would do it myself but having zero bond with anyone else in the class made the mission that much more difficult.

“If things get really bad and you’re banging your head against a brick wall, you know where I am. I’ll help you get it on paper. Trust me, this is an easy A.”

I sucked in an angry breath. “Easy for you to say.”

I was truly disheartened leaving the university. But then I was struck with sheer brilliance. If Marilyn saw Julian as a walking sex-god, then how many other girls did? Even I hadn’t failed to miss the attraction before he ruined it by opening his mouth. It might not be has hard as I thought, getting someone to switch with me. If anything, it was worth a shot, and I couldn’t really
not
try. Failing classes wasn’t something I enrolled for.

When my phone chimed displaying Jordan’s name, my school problems instantly ebbed. His name alone was enough for a lightweight smile to touch my lips.

Jordan:
I’m outside your dorm. Think we could talk?

Me:
Pick me up outside the university on Blvd.

Jordan pulled up five minutes later in his black Volkswagen Golf. He clicked the right turn signal to get back into the road. “You wanna go get a drink?”

I looked at him, siting relaxed in his hoody and jeans. His dark hair was cut shorter, slicked back and the tidiest I had ever seen it. He looked a lot more put together than he usually did—he had never been seen in anything other than sweats—but he looked good and he smelled phenomenal. I always loved his cologne, it was clean and fresh and whenever I caught the same stolen scent from someone else, I would immediately think of him. I loved it so much I would happily bathe in the damn stuff.