She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) (17 page)

Pooja listens to me complain. “We talk about sex, too. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is…I don’t know. I want to strangle them both.”

“You’re just embarrassed. They both know you’re a virgin. Who cares? Maybe you should face the real issue.”

“Oh, and what’s that, all-knowing and powerful Oz?”

“You opened yourself up to Chase this morning. You told him you have feelings for him. You could have kept quiet, but you didn’t. You’re trying to shake things up, Juliet Anderson.” Sometimes I hate when Pooja’s right. She’s always right, too, which is annoying.

“You’re not helping. You should dress as the witch tonight. It fits your personality.” Most of the basement of Sheridan will be attending an off-campus costume party, courtesy of Ben and the football team.

She dabs my nose with a smelly cream. “Come on. You know you’re a perfect witch.”

She smiles, and I smirk through my cleansing mask. “Nobody’s even going to notice us with Rocco standing there half-naked in his cave man loin cloth. He’s all body.”

The door flings open. “Who’s all body?” My towel loosens when Ben cuddles behind me and puts his arms around my waist. “Me?”

“Rocco.” I turn my head to kiss him and my face gook gets all over his cheeks. “But you’re a close second.”

Pooja ignores our PDA, checking her pores in the mirror. “Actually, if we’re ranking the entire floor, Frank would be second, then Ben, then Chase, in that order.” Pooja’s always honest. Even when ranking the guys on our floor.

Ben smirks as he wipes off the gook from his face. “I think it’s debatable whether I’m second or if Frank is. Hey! Can we rank the girls, too?”

The door flies open again and Frank walks in. “Ranking girls? That’s easy. Same answer no matter what the category. Juliet and Pooja tied for first.” We grin through our face masks, and Ben squeezes me tighter. “Well, maybe without the crap on their faces.”

I wiggle out of Ben’s grasp and pull Frank under the light. “Come here.” I cover his face in cleanser, smoothing the product over his freckles while he watches me. Frank always lets Pooja and I do whatever we want to him, and we totally abuse the privilege. When I finish slathering him in face cream, I kiss him lightly on the lips.

“Frankie-O. Lips off Jules.” Ben’s pretending to be angry. He’s never jealous.

“I’m in love with your Jules, man.” Frank beams at me, his goofy grin lighting up the bathroom. “Your family jewels. This stuff smells good.” He sniffs the air.

“A little deep pore cleanse never hurt anyone,” Pooja says.

“I’m invigorated.” Frank inhales deeply and moans. “Ben, you should try this. You could use a deep pore cleanse.”

Ben backs away. “No thanks, Frankie-O. Don’t talk to me about deep pore cleanses ever again.”

Pooja and I laugh as Frank smiles, his face still covered.

Again, the door opens. “What’s going on?” Winston walks in dressed like Dracula and heads for a stall, pointing at Frank. “What’s that stuff on your face?”

“Cleanser,” Frank answers. “What are you doing dressed already?”

Over his stream of pee, Winston answers, “Trick or treating. Maggie and I went into town.”

“What are you, five?” Ben asks.

“I like getting candy.” Winston flushes and joins us at the sinks to wash his hands. “Maggie looks hot in her Wonder Woman costume, too. Candy and comic book women are my two downfalls. This night may kill me, but what a way to go.” He picks up a tub of exfoliating masque and sniffs it.

Pooja grabs the tub from Winston. “Does anyone care that there are more men in the ladies’ room than women? We’re not exactly decent.” Pooja and I have discussed how the guys have become comfortable around us—maybe too comfortable. “If you’re not doing a spa treatment, go away,” she says.

“I vill leave ven I suck your blood,” Winston says in a Dracula voice. Pooja points to the door, and Ben ushers Winston out, whipping open the bathroom door so hard that it bangs against the wall. The memory of Chase in his towel with his whipped shaving cream flashes through my head.

Pooja’s right. I’m totally embarrassed about the virginity talk we’d had that morning. In theory, I love Ben and always planned for him to be my first. In practice, I’m unsure about sex with Ben. I don’t think I’m ready to go all the way. I wonder if Chase was right—that it’s because of him.

I text Chase.

I’m still mad at you but if you’re around tonight we’re all going to a costume party at the football frat. If you come, try not to discuss my sex life with anyone. Thanks
.

I hope he’ll pick up on my snotty tone.

My phone buzzes immediately.

Text me the details and I’ll try. No worries. I’ll be quiet while I come for you, gorgeous.

I roll my eyes and text him back.

Lovely.

“Chase is going to try to co…”—I can’t say the word—“meet us there.”

Pooja and Frank stare. I stick out my chin and hold my hands in surrender. “What?”

“Your towel’s falling.” Frank points to my chest. I adjust myself, but Pooja’s still studying me.

“What?” I ask again.

“You’re all colorful. What are you doing, Juliet Anderson?”

“Hell if I know, Miss Follow-Your-Heart.”

“Don’t forget about honesty.”

“All I did was text Chase. Geez, Pooja. Relax.” I know she’s right though. I’m playing with fire.

Frank rinses off his face mask. “Yeah, relax, Pooja. If Juliet wants to screw up her life, that’s her business.” Frank kneels in front of me and dries his face on my towel-covered stomach, tickling me.

I squeal and push him away, then hold my towel as I run down the hallway to room one, laughing.

Chapter Sixteen

Chase

As I walk toward the frat house, I find an abandoned Halloween mask on the ground. I pick it up, dust it off, and place it on my head, the mask part on my forehead and the elastic around my hair.
Beggars can’t be choosers
, as Gram would say. I convince the muscle heads working the door that I’m on the invite list and that my mask counts as a costume.

Inside, the house is dark and loud. People crowd every room. Zombies, vampires, slutty nurses—slutty everythings. Then I see her, my witch dancing with Maggie, who is dressed as Wonder Woman. Of course, random men circle them like lions around a pile of raw meat. I’m pissed that Ben and Winston left the girls with the animals.

As I beeline for Juliet, the reds and oranges swirl around her. I have one thought as I approach her:
I fucking love this girl.
I want her with everything in me. I want her under me, over me, in my bed, in my hands. The closer I move to her, the more my heart burns, revving my soul like the engine of a motorcycle. By the time I reach her, my chest aches, and my body tenses. I grab my witch around her waist from behind and scowl at the boys. They back off right away, and Maggie discreetly disappears.

I don’t relax until Juliet spins in my arms to face me. I keep hold of her waist, and her gaze softens. The engine humming throughout my mind dulls. My breath steadies as I look down her body. In a short, black, turtleneck dress, black tights, and black knee-high boots, Juliet is covered from head to toe. She’s still the sexiest woman in the room. Her hair is loose and long, flowing out from underneath her pointy black witch hat. Her tight dress clings to her curves. I squeeze her waist.

“Hi,” she breathes. She tilts her head and holds my gaze, wrapping her arms around me.

I fight the urge to kiss her by scowling and criticizing her boyfriend. “Where’s Ben? He shouldn’t leave you alone here.”

Her eyes pop, and she looks around the room. “I dunno,” she slurs. “I think he’s doing football frat stuff. I’m not alone. Maggie—”

Juliet lets go of me and swings around. “Mags?” When she faces me again her brow is furrowed, and her lips are pouting. “I think I ended up tipsy somehow.” She pats her hair and adjusts her hat. “I’m probably a mess.”

I hold her tighter to steady her and move her a bit closer. I lean in and whisper, “You’re beautiful.” I massage her waist and inhale the scent of her floral shampoo.

She doesn’t run for the hills or pull away. Instead, she tightens her arms around me and smiles, looking me up and down. “What’s your costume?”

I tilt my head down to show her the mask stuck in my hair. “I’m College Boy with Mask.” Her pink giggles float through the loud room. “Took me forever to make.”

“I bet. How’s Gram?” I know she visits, and I love her for it even though she doesn’t want me to know. Gram enjoys her visits. She says talking with Juliet about girl stuff reminds her of talking with my mom.

Gram’s doing horribly, but I’ll save that news for tomorrow. For tonight, I say, “As well as can be expected.” I stole that line from the doctors.

The music blares through the crowded party room. But Juliet and I stand still, arms around each other in the middle of the floor. I can’t dance, but I sway with her for an excuse not to let go and to keep her close. We talk so close that I block out the music and the people. I’m not even sure what she’s saying, but her words are my melody as her thighs dance against mine. For the first time since the night we spent in my apartment, my heart beats and my body wants. I’m still me, she’s still her, circumstances are what they are, but here, in this moment, it’s just us.

I inhale deeply, settling my emotions, trying to form words. Trying to tell her that I miss her, I want her, I love her. Instead, I end up saying, “You smell good.”

Cheek-to-cheek as we sway, she giggles again. “I exfoliated. Feel my skin?” She rubs her soft cheek against mine and, once we connect, I press my cheek to hers, not letting her pull away.

“I feel everything when I’m close to you.” My lips end up near her earlobe and my nose in her hair. The scent of her makes me woozy.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice cracks, and my heart pounds.

“Me, too,” is all I can manage.

Juliet pulls back and studies me again, but we hold on to each other. “What’s up?” I ask quietly.

She smiles and shakes her head, then shrugs. “It’s just that ache.”

I sigh and stretch my fingers around her, pulling her closer. All I see is color and love and all I know is how she feels in my hands. “I feel it too, gorgeous.”

Then I look for her lips. I don’t care that we’re in a roomful of her boyfriend’s teammates, and I don’t care whether anyone sees. My lips are inches from hers when she stiffens under my hands. For a second, I hold on. But then my shoulders sag. I’m tired, exhausted from fighting. I’ll fight for Gram—everyday I’ll fight for Gram—but I can’t fight for Juliet. I’ll love her forever, but I won’t fight, especially Ben.

I let go of her and spin around to see my roommate.

“C. C.!” He pulls me into a bear hug. “How you doing, man? How’s your grandmother?” Ben pulls back and crosses his arms over his chest.

I mimic his stance. “She’s as well as can be expected. Am I missing anything at Sheridan?”

“Not tonight. We’re all here. Even the Fives.” He laces his arms around Juliet, which doesn’t look right. It’s not what’s supposed to happen. His arms don’t fit around her the way mine do. Her eyes don’t dance for him the way they dance for me. But she looks at him.

Her savior.

With their attention on each other, I murmur through the music, “I’m going to find the keg.” I hope someday I’ll get used to the sight of them together, but that day isn’t today.

I turn my back and then weave my way through the crowd until I find the kitchen and the keg. I know I should stay sober for Gram, but I need something to take the edge off. Something to help me forget my life, just for a few hours.
What the hell.
I grab a red plastic cup and tap away. I’ll think about calling my sponsor tomorrow.

As I pour my beer, a giant hand grabs my wrist and I flinch. A half-naked Rocco looms over me. “Pooja wants to see you.”

“Jeez, Rocco, you scared the crap out of me. I’ll go find her in a minute.” I turn from him and watch my cup fill.

Rocco grunts and yells over the music, “Now.”

“What are you, her messenger boy?” He scowls, and the veins in his neck throb. Before his head explodes, I follow him to a staircase.

The basement is quiet, except for the thumping of the living room above. A couple of fake cops make out in a dimly-lit corner behind the makeshift bar, while other costumed partygoers talk and drink. There’s the faint smell of pot. I look for the joint, hoping I don’t find it but also wishing I do.

Pooja, dressed like a cavewoman to match Rocco’s caveman, sits on an old couch surrounded by Poppy and Darcy, who are dressed as princesses, and Megan who wears cat ears and has hand-drawn whiskers on her face. They pass around a bottle and shot glasses. Pooja catches my eye as Rocco leads me across the room and then motions to the girls. They offer me hugs and ask about Gram as they file past.

When the group leaves, Pooja pats the empty space next to her, and Rocco nudges me toward the couch. I sit next to her and put my arm around her shoulders, mostly because I know it will piss off Rocco. “You summoned me, Pebbles?”

“Here.” Pooja hands me a shot glass. Even with her sight, she must not know about my substance abuse issues. She reaches for the bottle and pours us each a shot.

“I’m done with that stuff.” I’m proud that I can even say those words. Beer is one thing—hard liquor is another.

“It helps me with the colors. You see the colors, right?” She downs her shot.

I shrug, though inwardly I’m a little freaked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Pooja studies my face as I toss back the shot. The liquid burns my throat. “You know what I mean. Tell me.”

The problem with Pooja is that, no matter how hard you try, you can’t trick her. She always sees through whatever shield you’re hiding behind. “I see color all the time, Pooja. I’m an art student.”

“I saw your sketch of Juliet. You see her colors, don’t you?” The look in Pooja’s big black eyes tell me she knows the answer already.

“I sketch what my hands want to sketch and don’t think about it. Who cares anyway?” I don’t want to talk about Juliet’s colors with Pooja.

Pooja pours us more shots while she stares me down.
Shit
. Damn cavewoman is beautiful and ruthless. No wonder Rocco is whipped. I give up. “All right. I see colors sometimes when I look at Juliet.”

“Do you feel them or see them?”

Here we go with the twenty questions
. “I see them. Then I paint them.”

“What colors do you see around her?”

I shift on the couch. “Why are we talking about this? It doesn’t matter.”

“What colors?” she asks again.

I refuse the second shot, and she doesn’t pressure me to take it. “She laughs in pink.”

“What about other people? Do you see their colors?”

“No.”

“No?”

“Just Juliet.”

“Huh. What do you think that means?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I lie. “She’s with Ben,” I say it to remind myself.

“Her colors are different with you than they are with Ben.”

“So what? Ben’s good for her. He calms her. Blues, greens, you know.” I like to think that I’m an expert in color and its significance.

“Juliet’s confused. It’s blues and greens but they’re muddled into grey. You’d see that, too, if you’d learn how to channel your sight, Chase. You need to start attaching feelings with the colors if you ever really want to utilize your gift.”

“Well, lucky for me I don’t want to utilize anything. I only want to paint.” I squeeze Pooja’s shoulder as Rocco joins us. She hands me the bottle, and Rocco helps her to her feet.

But before she goes, she bends down to whisper in my ear, “Honesty, Chase. Be honest with yourself. And with Juliet. And Ben for that matter.” She kisses me on the cheek.

“Hey,” Rocco barks.

“Whipped,” I grunt back.

He grins as he kisses her hand. “Definitely.” He looks like a giant lovesick barbarian until he turns to me and points. “Don’t put your arm around my girl again. Ever.”

Pooja rolls her eyes. “Relax, Roc. You’re so wound up. We’re at a party. And don’t call me
girl.
” The two of them bicker as they walk away.

Even though Pooja thinks I have access to this “gift,” as she calls it, I’m not sure I agree. If I have the gift, wouldn’t I be able to see colors around others, not just Juliet? Obviously, the entire thing is a fluke with Juliet because she’s so damn gorgeous and I’m an artist. She’s my living piece of art. Of course I’ll see color around her. My problem isn’t my ability or inability to use a so-called gift. My problem is I’m in love with someone who is both taken and way out of my league.

When the fake cops move their make out session to the couch next to me, I head back upstairs. In the living room, I find Juliet and Ben smiling at one another, deep in conversation. Confused or not, even though I came to the party for the sole purpose of looking at Juliet, I don’t want to watch her and Ben.
Am I the only one who thinks they aren’t right for each other?
I must be crazy for thinking she would ever choose me over Ben. If I were her, I’d pick Ben, too.

But something nags at my gut as I exit the living room, away from the happy couple that haunts my dreams. Maybe it’s Juliet’s
ache
, or maybe it’s New Chase tugging at my heart strings, encouraging me to take on the fight. Whatever it is, I don’t listen to it. I’m in no shape for a fight—especially one I can’t win.

Juliet

I’m left alone on a couch when Ben is summoned by his teammates to help contain a situation. I stand and sway; it feels like the ground is moving below me. If I can find Chase and talk to him, maybe I can figure out this sex thing with Ben. Of course, seeking out Chase to progress my relationship with Ben is probably one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had. But when alcohol takes over, so do bad decisions. I’m sure a bad decision led to whatever situation Ben is now dealing with in the other room.

I head toward the kitchen and the keg and spot Chase with Tina, the Wonder Artist.
Ugh.
I can’t stand the idea of her with Chase, mostly because they seem to have so much in common.
When Chase glances over Tina’s shoulder, he catches my eye. They yell at each other as I walk by, attempting a conversation over the loud music. Tipsy, inspired by the tune, and knowing I look kind of hot, I saunter past. His gaze warms me from head to toe.

As I bend over the keg, one of Ben’s teammates grabs the nozzle for me. “I’ll help you with that, Jules.”

I smile and accept the help. Apparently the team sees me like a little sister since I’m Ben’s girlfriend. Everyone uses words like “sweet,” and “adorable” to describe me. They could be describing Megan. I guess around Ben I am sweet and adorable. They consider Ben and me high school sweethearts—untouchable. None of the other players even flirt with me. My relationship with Ben is so…grown up. Solidly settled. It’s exactly what I’d hoped for and what I’d wanted.