The Opportunist (3 page)
“I remember waking up after it happened. Nothing before that.”
“Not even your name?”
He shakes his head.
“The good news is the doctors say I’ll remember. It’s just a matter of time and being patient.”
The good news for me is that he doesn’t remember. We wouldn’t be talking if he did.
“I found an engagement ring in my sock drawer.” His confession is so sudden, I choke on my coffee.
“Sorry.” He pats me on the back and I clear my throat, eyes watering. “I really needed to tell someone that. I was getting ready to ask her to marry me, and now I don’t even know who she is.”
Wow…wow!
I feel like someone just plugged me in and threw me in the bathtub. I knew that he had moved on with his life, I spied on him enough to know that, but marriage? It made me itch just to think about it.
“What do your parents think about your condition?” I ask, steering the conversation in a more palatable direction. The thought of Leah in a white dress made me want to laugh. She was better suited for slutty lingerie and a stripper pole.
“My mother looks at me like I’ve betrayed her in some way, and my father keeps patting me on the back, saying, “You’ll get it back soon, buddy, everything’s going to be fine, Caleb.” He imitates his parents to a “t” and I smile.
“I know it sounds selfish, but I just want to be left alone to figure things
out—you know?”
I didn’t, but I nod anyway.
“I keep wondering why I can’t remember. If my life was as great as everyone keeps telling me it was, why doesn’t any of it feel familiar?”
I don’t know what to say. The Caleb I knew was always in control. I always thought Jewel had him pegged, he was fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care. This Caleb is confused and broken and spilling his guts to someone he thinks is a perfect stranger. I want to kiss his face and smooth out the furrows in his brow. Instead, I sit frozen in my chair, fighting the urge to tell him everything that tore us apart in the first place.
“So what about you, Olivia Kaspen? What’s your story?”
“I…uhh…I don’t have one.” I am so thrown off guard by his question, my hands started shaking.
“Come on…I’ve told you everything,” he pleads.
“Everything that you remember,” I point out. “How long have you had amnesia?’
“Three months.”
“Well, for three months of
my
life I’ve done nothing but work and read. There’s your answer.”
“Somehow, I think there’s quite a bit more to you than that,” he scans my face and I get the impression he is generating a history from what he sees there.
I wish he wasn’t doing that—trying to see past my walls. I was never skilled at pretending with him.
“Look, when you get your memory back and can divulge all your secrets from the past, we’ll have a sleepover and I’ll tell you everything; but, as far as I’m concerned, until that day arrives, we both have amnesia.” He laughs a full-bodied laugh and I hide my contented smile behind the rim of my coffee cup.
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad for me then,” he teases.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Well, because you’ve just given me permission to see you again and now I have a sleepover to look forward to.”
I blush and decide that I can never tell him. He will remember eventually and this whole charade will come crashing down around me like a bad game of Jenga. Until then, I have him back and I am going to hold onto that for as long as I can.
Chapter Three
The Past
The day I met Caleb Drake the sun shone a little brighter on my world. It was during that insufferable time of year when finals loomed, and the entire student body was starting to look bruised around the eyes. I had just left a study session in the library and found the sky besieged by grumpy looking rain clouds. Groaning, I walked quickly toward my dorm, cursing myself for not bringing an umbrella. I was halfway there when it started to drizzle. I took shelter underneath a willow tree and glared up into its branches like I blamed it for the rain. That's when he swaggered over like he was drunk on his own good looks.
“Why are you angry with the tree?”
I grimaced when I saw who it was. He laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Just a question Sunshine, don’t attack.”
I glared at him. “Can I help you with something?”
For a moment, I thought I saw a swatch of uncertainty cross his face, but then it was gone, and he was smiling at me again.
“I was interested in finding out why this tree made you frown,” he said, repeating his lame starter line.
I looked beyond his shoulder and spotted a cluster of basketball idiots leering at us. He followed my gaze and must have shot his rat pack a fierce look, because seconds later the gathering dispersed. He turned his attention back to me.
Ah yes… I was supposed to answer his question.
I looked at the trunk of the tree, which resembled badly braided dough, and realized how intensely I must have been staring at it.
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” I sighed.
He let out a sort of strangled choke. “Caleb Drake.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My name,” he said, offering me his hand. Caleb Drake was a notorious name on campus and I had no intention of joining his fan club. I shook his hand firmly to make sure he knew I wasn't hypnotized by him.
“Yes, I was trying to flirt with you, until you shot me down, that is.”
I raised my eyebrows and forced a smile. Okay, I had to do this fast. Jocks had a painfully short attention span.
“Listen, I’d love to stand around and feed into your ego with chit-chattery, but I have to go.”
I moved passed him relieved to be heading toward the pint of heavy whipping cream and ice cream in my fridge. I was going to add chocolate sauce and make a bad-ass milk shake.
His laugh caught up to me as I neared the curb. I stiffened, but kept walking.
“If you were born an animal—you’d be a Llama,” he called after me.
That stopped me. Was this douche seriously comparing me to a hairy mammal?
“And why is that?” I kept my back to him, but my eye was twitching.
“Google them.”
Was this really happening? I twisted my head around, exorcist style, and glared at him. He looked so sure of himself.
“I’ll see you around,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets and heading back toward his group.
I rolled my eyes. Hopefully, that would be never. I steamed all the way to my dorm room. Before I could touch the knob, the door was flung open with gusto. Behold my freshman roommate.
“Why was he talking to you?”
She was dulcet, bright-eyed, blond, and as much as I wanted to hate her, she was a terribly cute little thing.
“He was recruiting members for his fan club. I gave him your name, Cam.”
“Seriously Olivia, what did he say?” she followed me as I stacked my books neatly on my desk. When I tried to ignore her, she started pinging M&M’s off my head.
“He was just showing off in front of his friends, there’s nothing to tell. Really!” She let me pass. I was headed for my whipping cream, getting ready to drink it straight, when she blocked me.
“You are so dense!”
“Dense?" I shook my head. "Are you calling me complicated or stupid?” I looked longingly over her shoulder at the fridge.
“Caleb Drake doesn’t go to girls, girls go to Caleb Drake. He just stepped out of his box to talk to you and you blew him off!”
“He’s not interested in me,” I said sighing. “He was showing off.”
“So he was showing off. Who cares? He’s earned the right. He's gorgeous!”
I made a gagging noise.
“Olivia,” she begged. “There is more to life than just books and studying!” she flung my textbooks off my desk for show. “Boy’s are…..they can…..do things,” she finished, nodding at me.
“You,” I said poking her in the ribs “are a slut.”
I rescued a textbook from the floor and started studying.
“O-liv-ia!”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I hated it when she said my name like that.
“Hmmm?”
She snatched the book from my hands.
“You listen to me, you ungrateful prude,” she grabbed my chin in her hand and yanked it up until I was looking at her. “He is going to talk to you again, just because you rejected him. He kind of liked it—and when he does,” she clamped her hand over my protesting mouth, “you are going to talk to him and flirt with him. Do you understand me?”
I shrugged.
Cammie shrieked, “Agghh!” and locked herself in the bathroom.
I certainly didn’t care what effect he had on the females on campus. Caleb Drake meant nothing to me. He would
never
mean anything to me. I was un-shmoozable. The end.
Cammie turned out to be right. Later that week, I had been studying all day when she started nagging me to attend a basketball game with her.
“I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”
“With extra whipped cream?”
“With clouds, if you’ll just hurry up!”
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the stands sipping hot chocolate with extra whipped cream from a little Styrofoam cup. Cammie was ignoring me and I was already regretting my decision to come. Caleb Drake was whipping around the court like an egg beater and frankly it was making me dizzy to watch him.
Halftime came and I stood up to find the bathroom. I was trying to knee my way past Cammie when the president of the student body stepped onto the court and held up his hands for silence.
“Laura Holberman, one of our students, has been missing from the dorms for over five days,” he said into the microphone. I stopped to listen. “Her parents, as well as the staff, are urging anyone who has any information about Laura, to come forward right away. Thanks guys, enjoy the rest of the game.”
I shared a few classes with Laura my freshman year. College students sometimes liked to disappear for a few days when things got stressful. She was probably holed away at a friend’s house somewhere, eating chocolate and bitching about professors. People always made a big deal about nothing.
“She dated Caleb Drake her freshman year,” Cammie whispered. “I wonder if he will be able to concentrate on the rest of the game now that he knows.”
I looked at Caleb, who was sitting on the bench, drinking from a water bottle. He looked relaxed. The jerk.
It was during the fourth quarter, when there was a minute left in the game, that the opposing team made a parting of the Red Sea comeback, tying the Cougars 72-72. I wouldn’t have known this if Cammie hadn’t told me, since I had spent the last twenty minutes picking fuzz balls from my sweater. Caleb Drake stood at the free -throw line, preparing for the most important shot of the night. He looked calm, like he already knew he was going to make it. For the first time that night, the gym was strangely quiet. Intrigued, I forgot my fuzz ball picking, and sat up straighter. I wanted him to make it. I know it was shameful, but I did. For once, I understood the Caleb mania. He was like a jalapeño, bright and smooth, but dangerously hot. A small part of me wanted to bite him.
I turned to Cammie, whose eyes were big with anticipation. This was major stuff—right here. My eyes drifted back to the court. I jerked. Caleb was watching me. The entire student body was watching him and Caleb was watching me. Before the ref could blow the whistle, Caleb tucked the ball beneath his arm and jogged over to his coach.
“What’s going on? What’s going on?” Cammie was hopping from one foot to another, her pigtails bouncing in time with the music.
Something didn't feel right. I shifted in my seat, crossed and un-crossed my legs. Caleb was handing his coach the ball. I suddenly felt like I was sitting in a sauna.
“He’s coming up the stairs, Olivia! He’s coming this way!” Cammie squealed.
I slunk lower in my seat. No way was this happening! He was headed right for me! I pretended to be busy digging around in my purse for something. When he stopped next to my seat, I looked up in surprise.
“Olivia,” he said, resting on his haunches to look me in the eyes. “Olivia Kaspen.” I saw Cammie’s jaw drop open and a multitude of heads turn to look at us.
“Bravo, you found out my name.” Then in a lower voice, “What the hell are you doing?”
He ignored me. “You’re quite the mystery on campus.” His voice was raspy, the kind that if whispered in your ear would give you goose bumps. I cleared my throat and did my best to look annoyed.
“Are you going to be making a point any time soon, or are you holding up the game to brag about your detective skills?”
