Redesigned

Redesigned

Denise Grover Swank

I push damp hair off my forehead, irritated with the heat. It’s too hot for late September, even in Tennessee. Still, if I’m honest, my irritation is partially due to the man drinking a beer six feet away from me.

He’s exceptionally good-looking—blond hair, blue eyes, a tan that doesn’t end at his biceps.

I’ve seen him without a shirt, and it’s easy to see why many of the girls on campus have nicknamed him Adonis. But more importantly, Dylan Humphrey is pre-law, and he comes from a family of lawyers. Not ambulance chasers, but a prestigious firm in Memphis. I should be happy I’ve finally gotten this close to him, but right now he’s not paying the least bit of attention to me. His attention is focused on my roommate Tina.

“Caroline.” My best friend Scarlett calls my name and pulls me into a hug. I’m a good three inches taller than her in my brown suede stiletto boots. I heard Dylan would be here, and I came dressed to impress with my boots and a jersey dress even though it’s an outdoor party. Scarlett squeezes my arm. “I miss you.”

A lump burns in my throat, but I swallow and force my lips into a smile. “I find that hard to believe with Tucker Price in your bed.”

She swats my arm. “You’ve been hanging around Tina too much.”

“Whose fault is that? I needed a roommate after you moved out.” I try to keep the bite from my words, but a hint of it is there nonetheless.

Tina is the world’s biggest flirt and some would call her a slut, which is probably why Dylan is paying more attention to her right now instead of me. But everyone knows that good southern boys don’t bring bad girls home to their mommas. They bring home well-behaved ladies. I may not have been born a cultured Southern girl, but I play the part well now. I just need to bide my time.

Scarlett rolls her top lip between her teeth and studies me. I recognize this look after living with her for three years—our freshman and sophomore years in a dorm room and our junior year in an apartment. But Scarlett moved out the end of May and into an apartment with her boyfriend, Tucker.

Who would have ever thought that math major/introvert Scarlett Goodwin would end up with a perfect devoted boyfriend—an ex-man-whore before settling down with her—while I’d been single for eleven months? A year ago, I’d felt sorry for her. Funny how things change.

Scarlett finally breaks her silence, her face expressionless. “I’m sorry to hear about the dress store closing. Are you going to be okay?”

I’m trying not to freak out that I’m currently without a part-time job. “I’m fine. I saved a bunch of money working overtime there this summer.” I force a smile. “But I’ve had to talk to Tina about being more prompt with her share of the rent and utilities.”

“I’m sorry I deserted you.”

I shrug. “At least my night life is livelier with Tina.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. She’s been out with Tina a few times. She knows how wild Tina is.

“Well, I’m glad you came to our party, even if you didn’t find a date. Although why you think you need one is beyond me.”

Of course, it’s beyond her. Scarlett wasn’t looking for love when she found Tucker. The boy practically fell in her lap. “Time is short, Scarlett. I’m a senior and have less than a year to find the future Mr. Caroline Hunter.”

“You don’t need a man to make your life fulfilling.” Scarlett sighs. This has to be Round Twenty-Eight of some variation of this discussion. “You need to make yourself happy first.”

“Says the woman with the sexy soccer player for a boyfriend.”

“You forget he left me for two months before he came back. I found my own happiness without him. He only makes my life so much better.”

As if hearing his name, Tucker sneaks up behind Scarlett, wrapping his arms around her stomach and pulling her back to his chest. She looks up at him and smiles. Her face is so full of joy, I nearly gag with envy. I’m not jealous of my friend. I’m happy Tucker came into her life. Scarlett deserves every bit of happiness he brings her and much, much more. I’m jealous of what she has, of what remains so elusive for me. I’ve never had what she has, not even with my two-year relationship with my ex-boyfriend.

“Great turnout, Tucker,” I finally say with a smile. “I’m glad you gave Scarlett a party for her near-perfect GRE score. She’d never celebrate it on her own.”

She turns around to face me, lowering her voice. “You know I hate parties.”

I shake my head. “Talk about an understatement. But you deserve a celebration. Besides, Tucker’s invited mostly people you know, with only a few soccer players sprinkled here and there for my and Tina’s amusement.”

Tucker laughs. “You have to admit I’m a great host.”

I lift my eyebrows in a smirk and take a sip of the wine in my red plastic cup. “That you are.

Now if you can just get Dylan Humphrey to pay more attention to me than Tina, I’d be a happy girl.

Getting him to go out with me would be icing on the cake.”

An ornery look spreads across Tucker’s face. “Done.”

I groan, but I’m secretly happy. Tucker’s not one to back down from a challenge, and I’m positive he’ll follow through without embarrassing me.

For a guy who was narcissistically self-centered less than a year ago, he’s remarkably attentive to Scarlett and her needs, always mindful that social situations tend to make her anxious. And concern for her friends, specifically me, seems to fall under Tucker’s attentiveness. He hardly seems like the guy he was before Scarlett. The guy I’d repeatedly warned her to stay away from. I’m glad he proved me wrong.

“Congratulations, Scarlett.” A male voice interrupts my thoughts.

Scarlett turns around and her face lights up. “Reed! I’m glad you came.”

A guy at least a half-head taller than me stops next to Scarlett. An awkward grin tugs at the corner of his mouth as he hands her a small wrapped box. “I wasn’t sure what type of gift one was supposed to give for passing your GRE with such a remarkable score.” The wrapping is crisp white and the bow is gauzy and perfectly tied. It’s obvious he didn’t wrap it unless he’s gay. I look him over. Even though he’s impeccably dressed in pants, shirt and tie, his shoes are scuffed. Not gay.

A rosy color spreads across Scarlett’s cheeks. She hates getting gifts. “I’m sure it’s perfect.

Thank you.” Scarlett turns to me in an attempt to take attention from herself. “Caroline, this is Reed.

He’s just moved here from Boston and started his first year as a grad student in the mathematics department.”

A math man. That explains the professorly attire. He’s cute in a geeky kind of way. His dark, brown hair is a bit shaggy and in need of a trim. His dark chocolate-colored eyes are framed by long lashes. His face is pale, which tells me he spends a lot of time inside. He’s wearing a long-sleeve light blue shirt and a navy tie, but he doesn’t seem to break a sweat even though it has to be at least eighty-five outside.

One of Scarlett’s math department friends wanders into the courtyard, and she goes over to greet him.

“Mathematics graduate student?” I know most of the people in the math department are conservative, but Reed has run past conservative headlong into the middle of the last century. “Do you plan to go into analytics like Scarlett?”

He studies me for a moment. “No, my focus is the analysis of algorithms.”

“And what will you do with that? Something with the CIA or Department of Defense?”

His eyebrow rises in surprise and a hint of appreciation. “No, I hope to find a university position and teach.”

I strike him off as potential date material. For one, he’s in the math department so we would have nothing in common, but most importantly, I can’t imagine a college professor makes much money. I’ve seen the cars parked in the faculty parking lot. “Boston? Where did you go to school before coming to Southern?”

He looks wary of my question. “Out east.”

Totally vague answer, but I decide it’s not worth pursuing. “So how do you like Tennessee?”

“It’s hot.” He tugs at his sleeve. “Are you from Tennessee?”

It’s a simple question, common conversation, but it always makes me edgy. “Yes, born and raised.”

“I thought so. You have a southern drawl.”

I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or an insult. “Most everyone around here does.”

“Not everyone,” he murmurs, and I realize he’s really looking at me now.

My skin flushes from his examination, and to my surprise, it’s not from embarrassment.

“As Scarlett mentioned, I’m new here this semester and my courses and teaching schedule keep me busy. I don’t know many people.” He clears his throat. “Would you be free to go to dinner next weekend?”

I stare up into his dark brown eyes, and I’m so very tempted. They’re pulling me closer to him.

Literally. There’s something about him I can’t pinpoint, like a physical awareness arcing between us.

But a relationship needs more than physical attraction, and I’ve wasted the past six months going out with good-looking guys. It’s my senior year, and it’s time to think of my future. Even if some inexplicable part of me wants to kiss him right here and now.

All the more reason to say no.

The question is, what should I tell him? He’s a bit abrasive, but I tack that up to his left-brain tendencies. Scarlett does the same thing and needs to be reminded from time to time that the rest of us aren’t robots. Still, I don’t want to be rude and flat-out decline. I decide to pick up on his busy theme.

That’s believable. “Thanks for the invitation, Reed, but I’m a fashion design major, and I have a fashion show coming up that could possibly determine my future.” My excuse sounds lame, even to me. “I’m hoping to make it on the committee so I have to give every spare moment proving I’m capable.”

I expect him to get irritated, but he smiles with approval. “I respect hard work. Maybe I can get a rain check for next semester.”

I certainly hope I’m not still single next semester, so I nod. “Sure.”

Tucker drags Dylan toward us, his arm around Dylan’s shoulder, and I resist the urge to cringe.

Talk about terrible timing.

“Caroline, there you are. I was telling Dylan all about you.”

I smile, but it’s not natural as I cast a worried glance to Reed. “I hope you didn’t spill
all
my secrets,” I joke.

“Don’t worry. I saved a few for you to share.” Tucker winks, then notices Reed. “Reed, have you met Dylan Humphrey?”

Reed extends his hand, but his face hardens as Dylan shakes it. “I haven’t, but I’ve heard a lot about you.” He doesn’t look happy about what he’s heard.

Tucker misses Reed’s glower. “Say, Caroline, I was telling Dylan about my friend’s band playing at the Voodoo Lounge next Friday night. Dylan’s interested in coming to check them out, you still in?”

I finally get the full meaning of being caught between a rock and a hard place. It would be rude of me to accept after I just told Reed no, but this might be my only opportunity to go out with Dylan.

I’ve had my eye on him since the beginning of the semester. The reality is that I really don’t have a choice. “Sure,” I say, but I purposely avoid looking at Reed. “I’d love to.”

Dylan’s eyes move down over my body, hesitating on my breasts. “It was nice meeting you.” His gaze rises to my face.

I’m suddenly unsure this is a good idea.

Reed releases a hard cough.

Tucker whacks Reed on the arm. “You all right, dude?”

“Surprisingly, great” is his terse reply.

Tucker remains clueless as he winks at me again, then follows Dylan to a huddle of his old soccer teammates. Tucker came through for me, so why do I feel so miserable?

“Is it my major that throws you off or the fact you can’t do your laundry on my abs?” Reed’s voice is unyielding.

The truth is that I feel much more drawn to Reed than Dylan, apparent lack of abs and all. I feel a connection to Reed I’ve never felt before and the tension between us only feeds my libido. “Reed, let me explain.”

“Caroline, that really isn’t necessary. Perhaps I’m just not your
type
.”

I want to lie to him and say he’s right, I’m not attracted to him at all, but that would be a flat-out lie. For some reason I can’t make myself say it. Maybe because it’s so far from the truth. “What type would that be?” I finally say. Because for some inexplicable reason, I can’t walk away from him.

“Rich, good-looking,
powerful
.” Ugliness drips from his words, snapping me out of my lustful stupor.

I lift my chin. “There’s nothing wrong with any of those attributes.”