Boyfriend Bargain(32)

My skin goes white. I can feel the blood leaving it. My teeth clench. “Been called worse by better, Veronica.”

“Truth hurts. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up that this little thing between you two might last.” She shrugs.

I stare at her hard. This is a cat fight, and I smile a little because my mama taught me well. I know all the right words to say to defend myself from bitchy girls who think they’re better than someone from the trailer park.

I push out a tight smile. “You’re so jealous, and it’s sad, truly. My heart actually hurts for you.” I make a pout with my mouth. “Want to know why?”

Her confidence falters, and I can tell she doesn’t want to ask, but she can’t help it.

“Why?”

I smile. “He’s never going to pick you. If he were, he already would have.” I keep a little Southern in my voice when I say, “And, bless your heart, I would tell you to go fuck yourself right now for being a little bitch, but I don’t think you’d even enjoy it.”

It’s a great exit line, and I’m mentally high-fiving myself when she grabs my elbow, nearly causing the flowers to topple.

Her eyes flare, and if she were a dragon, I’d be seeing smoke. “You’re so beneath him, and the only reason he’s with you is you look like—”

“Is your drama going to have an intermission soon?” says a taut female voice, and I turn to see Julia standing there, arms crossed, face tired. “Because my friend and I have better things to do than talk to a backstabbing bag of shit like you.”

They know each other. It’s obvious from the twin set of daggers in each of their eyes. Julia is all up in the hockey stuff.

“Don’t you have some puppies to murder, Veronica? Run along now. No one wants you here,” Julia says.

Veronica, at first taken back by the sight of her, recovers as she leans in and turns to me. “He’s moved on, sweetheart. Face it.”

My heart flops. He’s moved on.

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and stomps out of the lobby.

Julia gives me a wry smile. “Ignore her. By the way, I’m a stripper. I almost told you the other night, but it wasn’t the right time.”

“I noticed you’ve been avoiding me. Oh, and I nearly saw your boobs, which might be okay since we’re roomies, but not while you’re shaking them for the suits.”

She sighs, grabbing my backpack from Lobby Girl, who came around the desk with it at some point, probably to see all the action. “She tried to fire me, by the way, but I talked her out of it.”

I study the determined set of Julia’s face. I get the feeling she doesn’t take no for an answer often.

I push Veronica and Z out of my head and focus on her. “Julia, are you sure working there is good for you? Some girls just fit right in and they love it, but the other night you were upset about something…”

She waves me off and looks down at the monstrous vase of flowers. “You going to get those?”

My heart sinks a little as I study the lush petals. My eyes scan around the lobby. “I’m going to chuck them in the trash.”

Lobby Girl nearly faints. “God, no, please. That would be a crime. I’ll take them if you don’t want them. They’re the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.”

Julia arches a brow. “They’ll brighten up our dungeon of a room.”

Fine. I give Lobby Girl a smile since she looks so relieved. I glance at Julia. “Maybe they’ll mask the dank smell that comes up from the radiator.”

She pauses as we make our way to the stairwell that leads to our room. “I heard some of the things she was saying to you about Zack…” Her voice trails off.

I pause mid-step. “Oh, shit, please Lord baby Jesus, tell me you’ve never slept with him because I’m just starting to like you and I don’t know how that would work—”

“Especially since y’all were going at it in your closet. Geeze.” She laughs at my mortification. “Yeah, I heard—even with earbuds in—and no, Z and I never hooked up.”

I squint. “But it was one of them?”

Her face hardens, a flat, tight look there, and I realize I wouldn’t want to be on the opposing side against her in a fight. “There was a hockey player, yeah.”

“Which one?”

She twists her lips and shrugs her slender shoulders. “I’ve vowed to never speak his name.”

“That bad?”

She scowls. “Once they cheat, I’m done.”

She’s my sister from another mister. “Been there, my friend.”

She arches a brow. “So. Are you using Zack to get over your ex?”

“Ah, no. My ex has zilch to do with it.”

She raises a brow. “So what’s going on?”

I open my mouth to answer, but I find that I can’t respond. I shrug and she frowns as we walk inside. I set the flowers next to the daisies.

“The sex is incredible, isn’t it?” She gives me a careful look.

“Is it that obvious?”

She nods. “He has quite a reputation.” My stomach clenches at that, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Just…tread lightly. Don’t fall in love with him.”

No falling in love. That’s the number one rule…

Right.

My gaze roves over the two sets of flowers, one plain and sweet, the other rich and heavy. “He sends flowers to every girl…when he’s done,” I mutter under my breath, trying to reconcile that image of him with the guy who was in my dorm room.

“Exactly.”

I let out a heavy sigh.

How did I get myself in this situation? You know why, Sugar. You wanted him and you let him in and now here you are, just another notch on his bedpost.





27





Sugar





What are you doing?

The text from Zack pings on my phone the next day as I’m rushing to class from the student center. I’m late—as usual—for astronomy, which I took on a whim but has turned out to be a pain in the ass. Who knew studying the stars would be so damn hard?

I ignore the text.

I haven’t heard from you. I take it you don’t like gardenias? You just seemed like a lush kind of girl…

I push my phone down further inside my purse. Part of me knows I need to respond to him, need to address how pissed I am, but right now, I’m not ready.

Inside the little general store at the student center, my hands tighten around my backpack as I pay for my morning sugar, a red slushie drink, and head out to the quad. I brush past a few girls on the way out of the glass double doors, and I’m stunned to see them looking at me and then giving me an assessing, snooty look. I come to a stop right outside the entrance. I swear I heard one of them say Zack. I sigh, once again reminded of his social status. They’ve probably seen his Instagram account where he’s posted some pictures of us. Everyone thinks we’re an item, and here I am dressed for the role of hot girlfriend in leggings, Chucks, and a baggy Welcome to Pawnee, Indiana sweatshirt. My hair is in a messy bun, and all the makeup I had time for was a swipe of Midnight Madness red lipstick. The name is fitting since I barely slept last night, tossing and turning with dreams of Z and my dad.

They’re probably wondering who the hell I am and how I got him. I grimace. I get it; he’s a thoroughbred and I’m a mixed breed, short-haired pony.

Whatever.

I push thoughts of him down deep as I trudge through the early morning crowd toward the law building. My anger builds with each step. He was all into me and now nothing?

A male voice calls my name from behind me and I keep on trucking. Bennett. I’d know that deep voice anywhere.

“Wait! Sugar!”

Nope. I throw a glance over my shoulder, and he’s moving at a full jog on the sidewalk now, brushing past co-eds with his backpack as he runs.

Everyone is staring at him and then looking at me, and I know him well enough to know he’ll just keep calling my name until I stop. Determination is the one common denominator he and Z share. Outside of that, they are completely different.

I stalk over to a bench near an oak tree and wait.

He slows his pace, a smile crossing his handsome face as he approaches. He’s wearing jeans and a Violent Femmes shirt I bought him, showcasing his tattoos. Mostly roses and skulls, I’m surprised to realize he’s never really told me what they mean—unlike Z.

His hair flows back from his face, deep with color and wavy, brushing the sides of his chiseled jawline. Damn. The man is fine. But like my mama used to say, He’s a pretty turd in the punchbowl.

My shoulders go back when he stops in front of me but I don’t return his smile.

“Hey.” He eases his backpack down to the ground and leans in to give me a hug—a super awkward hug that I don’t want, but part of me gives in because, well, we’re in public and we did spend two years together.

I stare up at him and he looks back, a soft expression in his eyes.

I sigh. “Hey. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” He huffs out a laugh and looks up at the sky. “I wanted to see if you got the daisies.”

Daisies…oh. I nearly forgot. I think about them back in my dorm room, collecting dust.

“I don’t recall us ever having a conversation about daisies.” I arch my brow, curious as to why he keeps sending them.