Soft Shock (6 page)

“Well, I guess
all that’s left to say is…congratulations?”

Her mother laughed.
“Don’t sound so unsure about it.”

“No,
I’m—it’s great. So are you married yet?” Marci pulled at one of her
corkscrew curls.

“This evening,”
her mother said in a singsong voice.

“Congratulations,”
Marci said again. She didn’t know what else to say. At least she wouldn’t have
to dress up this time, find a date or make Tyler go with her—she loathed
actual dating—and take time away from her busy schedule to fly home to California.
Especially right now when she needed to focus on that American Progress class
before Professor Ming ruined her life. She needed to be on Professor Ming’s
good side.
As much as it was possible for anyone to be on
Ming’s good side.
The woman was harsh but brilliant. And Marci planned
on asking for her advice with how to approach the next steps in her doctoral
program, which involved the dreaded comps. There was a lot Marci could learn
from her—if given the chance.

“Well, I’ve got
to go,” Glenda King said. “I’m on my way to pick up my dress. I’ll call you
tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll bring you
something nice from St. Martin. We’re staying at this villa. You’d love it. The
next time you and I come here, Marci, we have to stay at this place.”

“You don’t need
to bring me anything.”

“I know. But I
will. Talk to you soon. I love you, honey.”

“Love you, too,
Mom,” Marci said. After ending the call, she stared down at her phone until she
heard the balcony door slide open behind her. She looked up into Tyler’s
concerned face.

“What’s going
on?” He slid his hands into the pockets of his slim fit pants. Any normal
person would wear sweatpants on a veg day, but Tyler abhorred and detested
sweatpants. The white cotton pants he had on were probably called something
like “leisure pants” or “Sunday brunch pants” and he’d probably ordered them from
one of those catalogs where even the font on the cover looked expensive.

“That was Glenda
King.”

“What’s she up
to?”

“Oh, she
happens to be getting married in a few hours.”

Tyler’s mouth
dropped open.

“That was my
reaction, too.”

“Oh, Marci.”
Tyler reached for her.

“It’s fine.”
Marci hugged him.

“No, it’s not.”

She laughed.
That was why she loved Tyler.
That amongst many other reasons.
“No,” she admitted. “It’s not.”

They walked
back inside with Marci ranting about her Mom’s latest marital escapade. As
usual, Tyler made her feel justified in her tantrum. Friends like Tyler were
invaluable. She would’ve probably offered to pay their tab even if she won the
bet. But still. You couldn’t just buy friends. She didn’t want to end up like
Glenda King who still thought after all these years that it was possible to buy
off a daughter.

Chapter Six

Marci’s Monday
afternoon shift at the writing center started off slow, but it didn’t stay that
way. She was working on a paper of her own for a class because she’d finished
up her appointments for the day, and there’d been no walk-ins so far. All of a
sudden, Claudia, who was the only other volunteer on shift with her that
afternoon, ran over to her cubicle in the back of the writing center. There was
supposed to be a third tutor on their shift, but the third one had either
no-showed or was really late. They’d known not to expect the fourth tutor who
had called out without getting anyone to replace him.

“Claudia,
what’s going on? Calm down.” Marci capped her pen and sat back in her chair to
look up at the frantic Claudia.

“Sonya called,
and she has the flu. She’s feeling really awful. She can’t even get out of
bed,” Claudia said. Sonya was scheduled to be the third tutor. “She wants me to
go get her and take her to student health.”

“Okay,” Marci
said.

“I don’t have
any more appointments lined up, but Sonya has one that should be here in a few
minutes. I was going to take it, but maybe you could. Would you be okay here by
yourself?”

“I can handle
one appointment.”

“And walk-ins?”

“Sure. Besides,
I’m not alone. The receptionist and Professor Maren are here.”

“But you’d be
the only writing tutor here.”

“I’ll be fine.
Go. Take care of Sonya.”

Claudia smiled,
but she still looked worried. “Thanks.”

“Of course.
Poor Sonya. Now go before she passes out or something.”

“I’m gone,”
Claudia said before jogging over to her own cubicle, grabbing her purse, and
scooting out of the door.

And Marci might
have actually been fine if Sonya’s four o’clock appointment had been anybody else.

The first thing
Marci felt when she saw his face was embarrassment. The second was an
irrational anger. What the hell was he doing here? Had he tracked her down or
something?

When his eyes
landed on her, he paled, and his lips tightened. No smile today. And his eyes
didn’t have that welcoming, friendly shine to them they’d had on the other
occasions she’d seen him.

“I didn’t know
you volunteered here,” Owen said. The warm, cheery tone of voice was gone as
well.

She cleared her
throat, forced herself to remember that she was supposed to say something here.
“Yeah. I do.” She twisted her Dad’s class ring around on its gold chain out of nervous
habit.

“I had an
appointment with…Sonya.” He pulled out a planner and began rifling through its tatted
pages, looking down at it with a concerned frown. She couldn’t help but think
that the frown was kind of sexy. What was this? She was going to be into him
now that he wasn’t interested? She’d always liked a challenge, but damn. This
was crazy.

“Sonya’s sick,”
she said.

“I can wait for
someone else if that’s…better.”

“I’m the only tutor
left today,” Marci said.

“Damn,” he said
softly. “And my paper’s due tomorrow.”

“Your paper’s
due—” she started and then cut herself off. Of course it was. This was the
oblivious boy who’d almost run her over with a bike. The happy-go-lucky air was
gone, but that didn’t mean he’d changed into a different person. Owen didn’t
strike her as a planner. The day planner he held in his hands had crumpled
pages, and the cardboard cover was missing from the front, but that was likely
due to being stuffed somewhere in the bottom of his backpack more than overuse.
She bet that if she flipped through the pages, most of them would be blank.

He looked up at
her, his gray eyes cold. She hadn’t thought about what a cold color gray could
be when she’d looked into them the other times they’d met because he’d always
been so warm and welcoming. “Don’t give me that look,” he said even though he
was the one giving reproving looks at the moment—or at least formidable
ones. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.” He scratched the back of his neck. He
wore a long-sleeved white shirt under a Carolina blue T-shirt.

“So…you didn’t
know I tutor here?”
 

His eyes
narrowed. “Look. I didn’t plan this or anything if that’s what you’re thinking.
I’m not stalking you, and I’m not chasing
you,” he snapped. “Can you help me or not?”

It took Marci a
moment to pull together a response. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but
she certainly hadn’t expected that. Not from Opie over there. Or at least he’d
been Opie whenever she’d seen him up until today. Eventually she said, “I’ll
get you checked in.” She stumbled over her feet on her way to the
receptionist’s desk. Why was he even more attractive today? No, he was
sexier
. No. She had to stop.

“Who is that?”
the receptionist murmured as she handed Marci the appointment book and stared
over Marci’s shoulder at Owen.

“A guy I know,”
she said. “Owen.” Why was she feeling so proprietary all of a sudden? Of course
the receptionist was going to look. Owen was gorgeous. And it wasn’t like she
cared. She was done with him. He’d had his chance. It was one night or nothing.
He wasn’t some special exception to her rule. There were no exceptions. Past
experience had taught her to guard against exceptions.

She’d help him
get this paper into some sort of halfway decent shape—even with the
extremely short turnaround time—and then she’d never see him again.
Right? Except every time she said that, he popped up again. And every time he
did, she wanted him to go away a little less than she had the time before.

They went into
a nearby classroom that wasn’t being used so that they’d have room to spread
out. When they sat down to work on the paper, Owen pulled a few library books
out of his backpack and then pulled out a laptop with a scratched lid. His hair
hid his expression from her as he leaned forward and pressed his forearms into
the black plastic border that ran around the white table in front of them.

“What do you
have so far?” Marci asked.

“A topic.” Owen
opened the laptop, powered it up, and pulled up a blank Word document.

“Literally?
That’s all.”

“I want to
write something about carbon footprints.” Owen bit at the corner of his thumb
and shrugged. “I’m not much of a writer. Which brings me here.”

She got lost in
thoughts of where those hands had been Saturday night. When Owen looked up at
her, focusing his gray eyes on her, she brought herself back to the classroom
and Owen’s dilemma.

She cleared her
throat. “So it’s a science class.”

He nodded.
“Environmental science. Something about saving the Earth.” He shrugged again. “I
don’t attend half the classes. It fulfills one of my gen
ed
requirements, and it works for my major, too.”

“Science
major?”

He nodded.
“Physics. Math, I get. Writing? Not really my favorite.”

He was way too
young for her anyway. Could he even drink legally yet? Maybe he’d used a fake
ID to get into The Hops. “What year are you?”

“Senior year,
second time around. Five year plan,” he said. “I do work study at the library,
and I work full-time at Java Time on top of that,” he added as if she might
judge him. Well, she probably would have. “I’ve had to space my classes out a
little bit.”

“Okay.”

“We’re probably
about the same age, though.” He leaned back in his chair until only the two back
legs of it remained on the ground and rested one of the library books on his
thigh. Looking up, locking his eyes on hers, holding her gaze unfairly on his
gorgeous face, he said, “I didn’t come straight to college from high school.
Worked for a few years first. Had some…family things to take care of.”

“Okay.” They
needed to get down to business because it was getting too personal in here.
“Triage.”

“Huh?”
Confusion rippled over his classically beautiful face. Angular jawline, ski
slope nose, strong chin. Surprisingly soft lips, she knew from experience.

She had to draw
herself out of thinking about those lips. Clearing her throat and scooting her
chair away from his a little, she said, “Your paper.
Um, you.
We. Uh. Triage. We’ll start with the biggest issue and work our way down until
we run out of time.” She’d like to work her way down Owen until she ran out of
time.

“Oh. Okay.” He
flipped through the book that rested in his lap.

“You have a
thesis?”

He gave her a
lopsided grin that reminded her of the Owen she’d first met, and she was a
little shocked and horrified to realize she felt relief. Even worse, she wanted
to grin back. Had she missed Owen? She didn’t “miss” any guy. Except for maybe
Tyler whenever he actually disappeared long enough to allow her to miss him,
but that was different.

“Marci,” he
said, and she braced against the feeling that rose up from the bottom of her
belly when he said her name. She really liked the way it sounded in his mouth,
on his lips. Damn. She hadn’t felt this since when?
A middle
school crush
? Maybe. She had only a vague recollection of middle school
and crushes. Anything that’d happened since middle school was too dangerous to
think about—to even consider.

She squirmed in
her seat a little and busied herself with arranging the two library books that
remained on the table.

Leaning forward
and pressing close so that his head was only inches from hers, he said, “I told
you. All I have is a topic. And I already gave that to you.”

Among other
things he’d given her. What was wrong with her? She jumped up from the table,
and her thighs bumped against the edge of it she was in such a rush to get up.
She played it off like she’d needed to stand and stretch. Stretching out her
arms, she said, “Then we have a lot of work to do.” Good. Something to focus on
other than the way that Carolina blue shirt hinted at Owen’s very nice chest.
She’d seen and felt just how nice that chest was. Pushing those thoughts aside,
she said, “First, we need to get you a thesis statement and an outline. If we
have time after that, we can start working on the first draft.” She grabbed one
of the books from the table. “You know what’s in these books?”

Owen squinted
at the book in her hands and stroked his jaw in a mock serious gesture. “My
best guess would be…words?”

Marci laughed
in spite of herself. “Right. Well, like I said, we have a lot of work to
do.”
 

Chapter Seven

Owen stumbled
into his apartment around six Tuesday
morning
. After
meeting with Marci at the writing center, he’d gone to the library and worked
on his paper all night. Finally, less than an hour ago, he printed it out and
carted it off to his professor’s office and slid it into the box the professor
had left outside to collect the class’s papers. His old school professor didn’t
believe in emailing papers by the deadline or any of “that electronic
blackboard nonsense” as he put it. Nope, his prof wanted a printed copy. And
now it was six in the A.M.
Just
two hours before the
paper’s deadline.

Owen flopped
down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Pulling his phone out of his
pocket, he scrolled through it until he found the text he wanted because
apparently he liked torturing himself. He’d been in a shitty mood since he’d
gotten the group text from Kristin Sunday afternoon.
A group
text.
Let alone the fact that she didn’t have the decency to call him
and she’d texted, she’d included him on a
group
text. He was just another number she’d added to the recipients for her happy
news text. It read:

Hey guys! Just wanted to tell my closest
friends I’m engaged! Justin asked me literal minutes ago!!! Had no idea.
Thought we were just out for a Sunday afternoon on the boat!

And that was
followed by tons of replies from friends wishing the happy couple well. Yeah,
well, Owen hadn’t been among them. He wondered if she’d even noticed he hadn’t
responded. Justin. So that was Trust Fund Baby’s name. Fucking Justin and his
fucking daddy’s yacht.

When the front
door banged open, Owen didn’t even move. He just continued staring at the
ceiling.

“Man. You know
Brynn is pissed as hell at me, right?” Dante’s naturally loud voice boomed out
across the room.

“What are you
doing up so early?” Owen asked.

“Gym. Had to go
early today. I have a business meeting later.”

Owen made a
lazy attempt to look in Dante’s direction by turning his head to the side, but
Dante wasn’t in his line of sight, so he gave up. “Business meeting? What are
you up to now?”

“Big things, my
man. Big things.
But back to Brynn.
She was pretty
pissed about getting blown off, you know.”

“Did you tell
her I’m damaged goods, that I’m still a little ex-crazy?”

“Yeah, but I
don’t think she was buying it. You left the bar with another chick. How’d that
go, anyway?” Dante asked. They hadn’t seen much of each other since Saturday
night because Dante had spent all day Sunday in the library working on a group
project for one of his business classes, and Owen had spent part of the day
working and the rest of it moping after he got Kristin’s text. And Monday, Owen
had been frantically trying to piece together his paper. He didn’t think he
could’ve done it without Marci’s help.
That notwithstanding,
he hadn’t changed his mind about her since making it up Sunday after getting
Kristin’s text.
He wasn’t going to chase Marci. Fine. She didn’t want
him. Hadn’t he learned his lesson about falling for girls who had no plans to
fall for him?

“It went,” Owen
said. He couldn’t deny it’d been nice, but they were definitely looking for
different things. Time to move on.
Away from the ghost of Kristin.
Away from the hopeless idea of Marci.
“You don’t think
Brynn would be interested in a date still, do you?”

“Nah.
Probably not.
We do need to get you on a date, though.”

“That’s the
truth.”

It was quiet
for a moment before Dante
said,
“There
is
a girl in one of my classes who’s
come over a couple times to study. She’d be interested, I think. You probably
wouldn’t remember her, but she’s asked about you a few times. Camille.”

“Set it up,”
Owen said.

“For when?”

“ASAP,” Owen
said. “You have her number?”

“Yeah. You want
it?”

“I do.” Owen
pulled himself to a sitting position on the couch. Man, he wasn’t going to make
it through the day without coffee, a nap, or both. Preferably both. Dante gave
him the number, and Owen decided to call this Camille girl before he could
change his mind. Phone call, sleep,
coffee
. If only
life could always be that simple.

#

Tyler ran into
the apartment Tuesday afternoon and did nothing but several minutes of
shrieking and jumping up and down. Marci set the book about the Cold War’s
effect on American pop culture she’d been trying to wade through aside and
looked up at him. His face was blotched with
red
as it
often was when he got excited about something. After giving him a moment to
calm down enough to speak, she walked over and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Tyler. Calm
down. Tell me what’s going on.”

He stopped
jumping and pressed his fists to his mouth. Then he shook his head and started
closed-mouth shrieking from behind his hands. The sound was horrible. Like
maybe the sound a small bird being strangled would make.

“Tyler. Focus.”

He dropped his
fists from his mouth and put his arms around her. “Callback.” More shrieking. “I
got the callback for that guest spot on Falling Back to
You
!”
Falling Back to
You
was a relatively new sitcom about
a man who gets hit by a car and returns to his family as a guardian angel.
Marci didn’t think the show had much of a future, and she and Tyler had made
fun of it all the time until he got the audition for it.

“Congratulations!”
This time when Tyler jumped, she jumped with him.

“It’s just a
small thing, and what I really want is to do Broadway, but who knows? Maybe
this is how my big break is supposed to start!” Tyler shouted in her ear.

Pulling back a
little for the sake of her hearing, Marci said, “Are you kidding? It’s
fantastic! I can’t even tell you how happy I am for you.”

“Happy enough
to let me borrow your car?” Tyler bit his bottom lip and looked at her in a
worried way.

“Of course.
When’s the callback?”

“Thursday! You
should come with. We could spend a long weekend in New York. It’d be crazy.”

“I wish I
could, but I have my kids Thursday nights.” Marci was a teaching assistant, or
TA, for one of the big undergrad lecture-style philosophy classes.

Tyler made a
face. “Cancel class.”

“Wish I could,
but I’m already in enough trouble with Professor Ming.”

“Oh.”
Realization dawned on Tyler’s face. Marci had told him what happened with Ming on
the day of the coffee debacle. “I guess you can’t cancel that then.”

“Nope, but we
should all go to New York for a weekend soon. It’s been so long.”

“Oh, maybe we
could stay with Ronnie’s aunt in Trenton. She loves to cook for us, and I do love
her pancakes.”

“We’ll talk to
Ronnie about it. It’ll be fun.”

Tyler nodded
emphatically. “If I get this part, we are
going
to New York to celebrate.” Cocking his head to the side, he added, “Either that
or Miami.”

Marci smiled.
“Definitely.”

“Ooh, will you
help me rehearse?” Tyler grabbed her hands.

She had a lot
of work to do, but he was so excited. There was no way she could turn him down.
“Sure.”

“I’ll be right
back. Just let me get the script.” Tyler ran off to his room.