We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (23 page)

I never wanted to go back there again and promised my nine-year-old self I wouldn’t. Hard work, goals, and yes, even an ambitious, successful husband were part of my life plan.

An entitled, spoiled rich kid didn’t fit into my goals. No matter how handsome he was.

“Nothing Compares 2 U” ~ Sinead O’Connor

“THE GUY I’M
not supposed to mention called again.” Jenni slid a piece of paper across my desk. “He insisted I write down a note and make sure you saw it.”

I fought the instinct to crumple it up and throw it in the trash without reading it. My fingers twitched on the paper.

“He also told me if you threw away the note, I should tell you the message next time I saw you. What’s it going to be?” Exasperation edged her words.

“Fine.” I read the note. All six words of it. “That’s it?”

“He insisted it was important and you’d know why.”

I reread the sentence.

Then crumpled up the paper and threw it away.

The boy whose name I didn’t want to hear sat outside my door after classes on Thursday. I spun on my heel to head back down the stairs.

“Jo!”

I kept walking. I didn’t need him or his sweet words.

“I know you saw me. Don’t run away.”

“I’m not running.” I sped up into a jog. Although I’d thrown away his note, Ben’s words had haunted me for four days.

Now he called my name and literally chased me. I raced down the stairs, aiming to hide out in the laundry room in the basement.

His sneakers slapped the stair runners as he followed me. Bracing his hands on the railing, he jumped down the last flight. He landed a few feet away from me with a loud thud.

“Ouch!” Another thud followed as he crumpled to the ground. “Shit. I think I broke my foot.”

I stopped. I wasn’t heartless.

“Are you okay?” I slowly moved toward him, cautiously, like I was approaching an injured animal.

He held his foot, rocking back and forth. “I’m not okay. Not even close to okay.”

“Do you need to go to the ER?” I had no idea where to find the nearest hospital, but he hurt himself chasing me. I felt responsible “I’ll take you. Can you stand?”

He extended and bent his left leg before bracing his weight on the other foot. With a hop, he stood up. Tenderly balancing his left foot, he winced. “I’ll be okay.”

I shot him a doubtful look. “Try walking.”

He took a step with his good foot and then did a weird kick-ball-change move when he stepped with his left.

“Nice dancing. Now try again.” I crossed my arms.

This time he managed to take two steps. I could see the effort not to wince in his eyes and the way he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. Or his tongue.

“Where’s your car parked?” He could say he would be fine all he wanted, but he needed an X-ray.

“In the lot behind this building.” He stood on one leg, resting the toe of his other shoe on the linoleum floor.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I ran up the first flight of stairs.

“Jo?”

I paused and faced him.

“You’ll need these.” He tossed me his keys.

“Oh, right.” Duh. I mentally slapped myself. “I’ll be right back.”

Luckily I knew how to drive a stick. His Audi had faux wood details and lots of beige leather. I felt like I was driving someone’s parent’s sedan.

We arrived at the local ER, sat in two uncomfortable chairs, and the wait began. Given Ben wasn’t bleeding from the head or imminently dying, he wasn’t a priority.

“Is it swollen?”

He shrugged. “It’s not too bad.”

“You should elevate it.” I patted my legs. “Here, rest your foot across my lap.”

“If you’re sure.” He paused, uncertain. No more cocky arrogance.

“Come on.”

He lifted his leg and I placed his foot on my thigh.

Other than when he wrapped his arm over my shoulder on the way from the dorm to the car, this was the second time we’d ever deliberately touched. Halloween didn’t count. I wondered if he felt the connection as acutely as I did.

“Now you’re pinned down, can we talk?” He pressed his leg against mine.

I raised a shoulder, but didn’t speak.

“I’ll take your silence as acquiescence.” He shifted to see my face.

I braced myself for his words. I could remain distanced. His words didn’t have to have any power over me unless I let them.

“I’m sorry.” He held my gaze, giving me a shy smile.

“You’ve said that already.”

“I’ll keep saying it until you accept my apology.”

“I’m not even sure what you’re apologizing for anymore.”

“I can make a list if you’d like. I wrote a lot of them down.” He slid forward to reach his back pocket. Removing his wallet, he opened it and pulled out a well-creased piece of notepaper. When he unfolded it, it tore along one of the edges.

“Looks like you’ve been carrying it around for a long time.”

“Since the afternoon of the disciplinary hearing. A few months ago.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug.

Mouth hanging open, I stared at him in disbelief.

“You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. Look at the first thing on the list.” He pressed the worn paper into my hand. The pencil had been rubbed and smeared with dirt and the oils from his hands.

“Never attend another judicial council.”

“That’s a good life goal.” I tried to hand the paper back to him, but my name caught my eye. I traced the words with my finger:
Win Jo back
. “Back? A little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

His shy smile spread into a familiar confident grin. “I believe in setting my goals high.”

“You have goals other than getting high?” The sarcasm flowed out of me before I could edit myself.

He flinched a little. “Touché. I earned that.”

I bit my tongue to resist apologizing. “I was never yours.”

Exhaling, he rubbed his hand over his jaw. “You keep reminding me.”

“We never went out—” I stopped him from interrupting by lifting my hand. “Let’s not argue over the semantics again.”

“Okay, we never went out on a date. I accept I messed up. But have you ever met someone and known within the first five minutes of meeting them you would become friends?”

I nodded.

“You didn’t question it, you knew. Something in you matched up. Your edges fit together and you clicked.” He ran his fingers over the knuckle of my hand resting on his shin. “I knew. With you.”

“We’d be friends?”

“And more.”

“Looks like you were wrong. On both accounts.” His touch tickled and I moved my hand away.

He grabbed it and wove his fingers between mine, resting both our hands on his armrest. “I’d only be wrong if this was the end of us.”

“Again, there is no us.” I watched as he unfolded my hand and traced the lines of my palm.

“I want there to be an us.” With his chin tucked, he peeked up at me. He looked like a young boy trying to get out of trouble.

“Ben . . .”

“We’re stuck here for now, hear me out. Unless you want to leave. I won’t keep you against your will. You can take my car back to campus and I’ll catch a cab later.” His words ran together like he was out of time and options.

“I’ll stay.”

“You told me you wouldn’t go out with me because I didn’t ask. I should’ve asked you. I’m a jerk, because until you called me out on it, I didn’t think I had to. I thought we had something between us, and we’d hang out, you know, and fall into things.”

“Things? Like your bed?” I bristled and felt myself begin to shut down. Not saying I hadn’t fantasized about his bed and him naked. Hypocrisy, thy name is Josephine.

“Honestly? Yes. You’re beautiful. Any guy would be stupid or blind not to be attracted to you. Even a blind man would think you’re beautiful if you let him feel your face.”

I gave him a sidelong look. “Got it. You wanted to sleep with me because I’m pretty.”

“There’s more. You’re also super smart, probably smarter than me.” He gave me a little cocky wink.

“You’ve yet to prove your intelligence.”

“That’s the thing. Ever since last November, I’m turning things around. Did you see my final grade in global economics?”

“You got a ninety-four. Congrats.” I admitted I knew his grade, which he could figure out meant I’d asked McDonald about him. “I take partial credit for you passing.”

“You totally should. You motivated me to get my shit together. I got rid of the bong and the pipes. I haven’t smoked since winter break.”

An older woman in a terrycloth housecoat sitting across from us scowled at Ben’s confession.

“For the first time in my life, I’m working on goals.” He pointed at his list lying on my lap. “No more coasting. No more being a jerk because I feel entitled. Rebelling against the life I’ve been gifted only hurts myself.”

“That’s deep.”

“My very wise grandmother called me out at Christmas.”

“She yelled at you on Christmas?”

“Two spiked eggnogs into the evening and the white gloves came off. I didn’t think anyone in the family paid attention to my antics.”

I imagined a small woman wearing white gloves and pearls in a boxing ring. “Did she give you a lump of coal in your stocking?”

“No, I received a new cashmere sweater.”

Of course he did. Getting back on topic, I brought up something still bothering me. “You were kind of a jerk for going out for coffee with Jenni and getting her hopes up.”