Shuffle (Ruby Riot #2) (3 page)

Chapter Four

WILL

Me and the boys returned from tour to the same student house, strangely it felt like home. We’ve been here, with Jax, for a couple of years now. Semi-decent for a student place, thanks again to Jax’s parents’ money. The central heating is a huge bonus anyway. Tegan stays occasionally and I watch in amusement as Jax rushes around the house, tidying up before she arrives. No idea why, they rarely leave his bedroom when she is here. His parents don’t expect him to return to uni so the lucky bastard does what he wants. Currently, he’s hanging out in recording studios and talking himself into session work.

Ruby Riot rehearses without Ruby, and Jax isn’t patient about her coming back. Nate attempted to explain we only have to wait until late October, to give her a break over having a baby; but to Jax, I think the baby is more of an issue than her no show. Yeah, I wouldn’t want a kid at our age, but it’s her choice.

I’m in the kitchen, unskilfully making my one meal I’m capable of: frozen pizzas. The front door bangs closed and Nate appears.

“You owe me, man,” he says rubbing his tired eyes. “The chick who runs the Shakespeare seminar is a hundred years old and drones on. Dunno why she can’t just show the movies like they did at school.”

“I’ll buy you a pint later. Say thanks.”

Nate frowns. “Are you cooking?”

“Yep.”

“What did you do?” He steps into the kitchen; and when I chew on my lip piercing, his eyes narrow. “Will?”

“I went to that history study group.” I turn and pull open the oven door, face blasted by hot air and the smell of burning cheese.

“Any good?”

“Yeah. Smart kids. A couple of them seem cool.”

“So what’s the problem?”

I drag the tray out and dump the pizza on the cardboard trays. Nate passes me a knife and I hack them into slices. “Remember the party the other week? The one I kinda made a dick of myself at with that chick.”

“Which one? There’ve been a few incidents.”

I scowl. “The history class chick. Fleur. She organises the group.”

“Ah. Her. You won’t be going back again.” Nate shoves a slice of pizza in his mouth.

I lean against the counter and tap my teeth. “Yeah, but you’re right. I have to find extra help. I need to go back to the group.”

“Whoa. So she accepted an apology? Fleur was ready to rip your head off that night. She told me if you ever go near her again, she’ll take out a restraining order. I think she was half-serious too!”

“I didn’t tell her who I was.”

“I’m sure Fleur knew damn well who you were after your dickhead moves the other night. People know who we are; we’re not exactly hard to spot.”

I stay silent and watch for the penny to drop.

“Hang on... Will, did you tell her you were me?”

“Might’ve done.”

Nate drops his pizza on the plate. “Fuck, Will! We don’t do this anymore. Only for swapping classes. We agreed.”

“There’s no way she’ll let me in the group if she knows who I am. She hates me, but she’s not bothered about you.” Nate doesn’t respond, but the look on his face says everything I need to know. “C’mon, Nate. It’s not like I’m going to do anything apart from suck up to her for help an hour a week. She’s practically a teacher; it’s no different to us going to class as each other.”

“We said no more lying to chicks! The fall out isn’t worth it. This is the kind of shit the press gets hold of; we were warned after the incident in Brussels. Man...”

“Nate. Help me out. I can’t fail more assignments. A few weeks until I’m on top of my grades, then we’ll only see her in class. She’s never noticed the difference before.”

“You think? If she’s smart, Fleur might figure this out.”

“Nobody ever does.”

“Better keep your shirt on then,” grumbles Nate, indicating my chest with a slice of pizza.

Our differences are self-inflicted, different tattoos. Mine’s a dragon, Nate’s is a row of skulls. “I’m not going to take it off; why would I?”

“Dunno.” He smirks to himself. “She could’ve heard about my moves, might tear your clothes off one day.”

“Fleur’s not interested in me. You. Us. Whatever.”

“Hey, it’s you who pissed her off!” He devours his slice of pizza and I give him my best pleading look. “Fine! Keep her away from me if you do this.”

I straighten. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you can steal my identity for the study sessions, but only because I don’t want you to fail.”

“Naw!” I grab Nate’s head and kiss his forehead. “You rock!”

“If this ends up in a fucking disaster, I’ll kill you.” Nate grabs the remaining pizza from the counter. “And you go to every one of my classes Fleur’s in. I won’t know what you’ve talked to her about in group.”

“All of them?” I complain. “That’s nearly all my classes twice a week if I go to yours too!”

“Up to you, man, do you want to be me?”

“Shit.”

Nate laughs and ruffles my hair. “Enjoy the 8 a.m. starts. I hope this is worth it.”

With a chuckle, he wanders off.

What the hell am I doing?

Chapter Five

FLEUR

I sit in Shaun’s room, clutching my notes. Two mugs of coffee steam on the desk between us, the aroma mingling with the dusty books. When I discovered he’d be dissertation supervisor, I swayed between girlish excitement at spending time with the hottest tutor on campus and relief I wasn’t assigned the middle-aged, acid-tongued Joan Chapman. At least Shaun is closer to my age. He’s studying for his doctorate, three years older than me, and occasionally tutors classes.

Shaun’s aware of his status amongst girls in the history department. The good-looking guy, whose brown-flecked emerald eyes I’m attempting not to stare into, has dated undergrads in the past. Strictly speaking, this is allowed, but frowned upon. I’ve heard whispers about one-night hook ups and a broken heart or two, but this doesn’t concern me. He’s assigned to help me with my paper and not out of my clothes.

Staring at the open top buttons on his shirt would hint I’m checking him out; instead, I focus on the scratched desk.

Who am I kidding? This guy is a second example of my ideal man: intelligent, cultured, witty. The fact he’s often found in the gym and has a body to demonstrate the amount of time he spends there doesn’t exactly count against him either.

“Thanks for dropping by,” he says, the lilt of the Irish brogue clear. Just his accent liquifies my insides. Not helpful.

Okay, I want Ethan but a girl can still dream of the unobtainable. Some fantasise about actors – or rock stars. Shaun’s my rock star.

“That’s okay. I needed to speak to you anyway.”

“Oh?” He pushes the mug towards me, and I wait until he takes his hand away in case we brush fingers.

“I’m working with a group from my European class because we’re struggling with the subject. There’re some books I want to borrow, but the library won’t let me as a lowly undergrad.” He watches me over the top of his cup as he drinks and my heart speeds at his focus. “I um wondered if um...”

Shaun’s gaze drops to my lips briefly, but enough for me to register, and my breath shortens. Is he flirting? I hear he’s good at that too, and I already sound like an idiot. “You um want to um borrow mine?”

I cringe at his teasing tone. “Oh. Well, I meant sign one out of the library for me, but if you have your own copy...”

“Which ones are they? I might have them.” I pull out my notepad and twist it around so Shaun can read the list. “Ah. Yes.”

Shaun walks to the shelves spanning the wall and stretches to take a book from the top shelf. His shirt rides up revealing a muscled lower back and I snap my head round to the window. Trees. Green, leafy trees. Not the tanned skin on a man who’s off limits.

“I’m surprised you’d be interested in feminist reconstructions,” he says as the two large books land on the desk in front of me with a thud.

“I’m interested in comparing them to mainstream,” I reply. “The 1990s’ scholars have theories I don’t think are validated by their research.”

“Oh?” he sits back down. “I may be inclined to disagree.”

My cheeks heat, but I keep my eyes on his. If I look away, the embarrassment will take hold. “I guess that’s what makes studying the subject interesting.”

He sighs. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘herstory’ students.”

I’m put out with the way he uses the word, re-constructing history from a female perspective isn’t exactly a new concept. I disagree with some of it, but he shouldn’t mock. “No. And so what if I was?”

His mouth tips into a smile, and I’m distracted by the thought of his sensual mouth on mine. Maybe having him as a mentor was a bad idea. “True. You don’t look like that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl?”

He shakes his head and sits. “I’ll stop talking now before I say something I shouldn’t. Now, how’s your own research going? Any further with your timeline?”

Shaun points at my laptop and I shake myself out of the moment back to my research on the fall of Communism in parts of Europe in the 1990s. Once I focus my brain on the task in hand and away from the distraction of the man helping me, the tension leaves my shoulders.

The other tension between us in the room doesn’t, and I have a bad feeling about how the direction our relationship is heading. Maybe he hasn’t sworn off undergrads completely.

Chapter Six

FLEUR

I’m in two classes with Nate. Before today, I was aware but not interested. Weirdly, he spends a lot of time avoiding looking at me. Sure, Nate has an interested girl next to him who he focuses his attention on; but I swear when our eyes meet, he looks away.

Arrogant idiot.

Until the night at the party, Jax had the reputation for being the ego of the band. Rumour has it a girl pulled him into line. Have the other free agents of the band now stepped up to his mark?

I head across campus to grab some lunch before my next class and catch up on missed texts as I walk. I’m not a social butterfly, but I have a close circle of friends. At high school, I was invisible amongst my fashionable peers. Here, I fit. I have a social life and people I can have a meaningful conversation with. Does that make me sound pretentious? Maybe, but following years of feeling out of place because I’m academic, I finally fit. These days, I walk the line between smart, nerdy girl in the background, and a friendly person who is as happy at parties as she is with her books. I’m comfortable in my own skin.

My one issue: I don’t want anybody getting under that skin. Unless the guy matches my intellect, I have no interest. I’m looking for a guy who sees past sexual attraction and understands I’m as likely to be turned on by smart conversation as a set of hard abs. Not that I’d complain if both came along.

So far, my only viable candidate is Ethan.

“Fleur!”

I stop, recognising the voice, and wait as the guy opposite to the man I just pictured appears by my side. Nate gives me a half-smile and I absentmindedly wonder what kissing a guy with a lip piercing is like. Unpleasant, probably. “Yes?”

“Can I ask you a favour?”

“What?”

Nate pulls a crumpled A4 sheet of paper from his rucksack. “I need help.”

I’m about to retort I can’t, but the tall guy’s face holds a childish confusion, which warms me to him. “With what?”

“I want to pass. My parents think I’m gonna fail. They think I’m a joke.”

His random sharing of a vulnerability arrests me and I stare back. “Why would they think that?”

He shrugs. “I want to prove to them the band can make it big. We will. But I need to prove to them I can do this too.”

“You’re serious about your degree?”

“If I fail at this, they’ll expect me to fail at everything.”

“Does your brother feel the same?”

Nate rubs his face. “He’s better at this shit. You’d think identical twins would share identical brains too.”

“Maybe they developed differently.”

I continue walking and Nate joins my pace. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not clued up on the nature/nurture thing, but Will plays a different instrument. Maybe studies more. The brain isn’t a static thing that grows the same as your legs.”

“Right.” He chews on the side of his mouth. “Yeah.”

I sigh. “What do you need help with, Nate? Won’t it wait until the group on Thursday?”

“Could do, but I want to catch up with some of this first. Can you give me some pointers on what I missed last semester? The shit I really need to know? I’m behind from scraping through because I slacked off last year. I can’t go through the whole fucking lot again and it would help if somebody highlights the important parts.” 

Jesus, the guy is giving me puppy dog eyes. Is he serious? “Let’s grab a coffee and we’ll talk about this.”

****

The student union has a different vibe in the daytime. I avoid the bar and head to the cafe area with brightly painted blue and red walls beneath a Perspex roof. The place is half-filled with groups chatting and laughing, or ignoring each other to focus on their phones. I don’t miss the curious looks because a member of Ruby Riot is with me. I order and Nate pays for the coffee before we place ourselves at a table in a darker corner.

His concerned frown continues as he smooths the paper on the metal table, catching the corners in spilt coffee. I sip from my cup, and enjoy my daily indulgence of decent coffee instead of the instant I drink at home.

“Is that your timetable?” I ask. Who carries timetables on paper? Mine’s on my phone.

“Yeah.”

I study the smudged print. “You have European History 2. That’s tough unless you passed 1. Did you?”

He runs a hand through his short, dark hair and I’m momentarily dragged into an attraction coming from the hint of vulnerability blurring his rough edges. “Yeah. Just. Fifty-one percent.”

I pull a face. “I take it you didn’t work too hard on that one?”

“Nope.”

“You need to recap it all.” I push the sheet back to him.

Nate groans. “Shit. I knew you’d say that.” The pleading eyes turn to mine again. “Can you help? You could show me exactly what I need to do. The study group isn’t enough to get on top of this.”

“The library and internet are your friends.”

“And you’re not?”

I blink as he fixes his gaze on me. “Not really.”

“Because of Will?”

“No, because we don’t know each other.”

“We can fix that.” The smile he gives confuses me, to the same degree, as Nate appears confused by European history. There’s nothing flirtatious here, no slow sardonic smile like the one he gave the other day. Does he genuinely want to be my friend, or is he clever at manipulating girls into doing what he wants?

I’m betting it’s the latter.

“Okay, come to the study room at 5.30 on Thursday. You can have half hour of my time before the rest of the group arrives.” The smile grows. “But you have to bring me an outline of what you need to recap. And a coffee.”

The smile pulls into lopsided amusement. “Yes, miss.”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“No. I’m honoured you want to help me.”

Now, I’m convinced he’s taking the piss.