“Wasn’t gonna lecture you.” He shrugs. “Just wanted to see if you’re okay.”
I sink down on the edge of the bed, slowly shaking my head. “Not in the slightest. I fucked up again.”
“Damn right you did.” My best friend props his elbow against the wall and sighs. “Wellsy and I heard her reaming you out.”
“I think the whole neighborhood heard it,” comes Tucker’s voice. He enters my room and leans against the dresser. “Except maybe Dean, but that’s because he’s balls-deep in a puck bunny down in the living room.”
I groan. “Seriously? Why can’t he ever fuck in his room?”
“Do we really want to discuss that perv’s sex life?” Tuck counters. “Because I don’t think that should be at the top of your priority list right now.”
He makes a good point. At the moment, my only priority is fixing things with Grace.
Christ, I shouldn’t have spewed all that bullshit. I hadn’t even meant it, at least not the part about her breaking up with me. That was my fear talking. And she’s right—I was having a pity party. I was so freaked out about everything that happened with my dad last night, not to mention everything that happened afterward. When I cried in her father’s arms.
I cried in her father’s arms.
I let out another groan. “What if I lost her for good this time?”
Garrett and Tucker instantly shake their heads. “You didn’t,” Garrett assures me.
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because she told you she loves you.”
“You stupid jackass,” Tucker adds with a grin.
I love you, you stupid jackass. Not the words a man wants to hear. The first three, sure. The last three? Pass.
“How do I fix this?” I ask, sighing.
“Quick. Write her another poem,” Garrett suggests.
I scowl at him.
“No, I think G’s onto something,” Tuck says. “I think the only way to save this is to bust out another grand gesture. What else was on her list?”
“Nothing,” I moan. “I did everything on the list.”
Tucker shrugs. “Then come up with something else.”
A grand gesture? I’m a guy, damn it. I need direction. “Is Wellsy coming back here?” I ask Garrett.
He smirks at my pleading tone. “Even if she is, I’m not letting you pick her brain. You’re gonna have to fix this one all on your own.”
There’s a pause, and then…
“You stupid jackass,” my friends say in unison.
34
Grace
I’m still fuming as I walk into the media building several hours after storming out of Logan’s house. Normally I don’t stay angry for long, but this time I’m having trouble expelling the volatile energy coursing inside me. I can’t believe he actually thinks I’ll dump him once he’s in Munsen full-time. That I’ll throw him away like an old busted-up toy and find something shiny and new to play with.
Jerk.
When I burst into the station, I spot Morris in the producer’s booth, balancing the telephone handset on his shoulder as he jots something down on a notepad. I frown, noticing that Pace and Evelyn are already in their seats in the other booth. Pace snaps his earphones over the backward baseball cap on his head, while Evelyn bends over a sheet of paper in concentration.
Am I late? I glance at the clock on the far wall. Nope. I’m early, actually. So why is Morris in my booth?
I take a step forward, only to halt when Daisy wanders out of the back corridor. She pushes her bangs off her forehead—they’re neon-blue now—and grins sheepishly when she sees me.
“Hey,” I greet my roommate. “What are you doing here?” She doesn’t usually hang out at the station unless she’s supposed to host or produce, and I know for a fact she’s scheduled to do neither today.
“Hey.” For some reason, she looks almost…guilty. “I just popped in to drop off coffee for everyone.”
“Since when are you the station gofer?” I narrow my eyes. “Your shirt is inside out.” I pause. “And backwards.”
She glances at her tank top, wincing when she notices the tag sticking out from her collarbone. Then her eyes flit toward the producer’s booth.
I follow her gaze, gasping when I find Morris grinning at us. “Holy shit. You and Morris are hooking up?”
Daisy sighs. “Maybe.”
My anger at Logan is momentarily eclipsed by her news. Our schedules are so hectic that Daisy and I are hardly ever in our room at the same time, which works out great for when I want privacy, but it also means I miss out on girl talk and up-to-date gossip.
“Since when?” I squeal in excitement.
“A couple weeks now?” She shrugs. “I didn’t tell you because we’ve both been so busy. You’re cool with it, though, right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know, because you and Morris went out.”
I laugh. “Once. And my behaviour didn’t exactly warrant a second date. I think this is awesome. You totally just made my day—and trust me, my day has been shit, so it really needed to be made.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
My bad mood returns like an unwanted rash. “I got in a fight with Logan. And that’s all I’m saying on the subject, because if I talk about it right now, it’ll just piss me off again and then I’ll be too distracted to produce Dumb and Dumber’s show.”
We both glance at the main booth, where Evelyn is using the reflection on her water glass to check her makeup, dabbing delicately at her eye shadow. Pace is engrossed with his phone, his chair tipped back so far that I predict a very loud disaster in the near future.
“God, I love them,” Daisy says with a snicker. “I don’t think I’ve ever met two more self-absorbed people.”
Morris saunters out of the booth and wanders over to us. He notices Daisy’s shirt and says, “Sweetheart, we’re at work. Show some decorum.”
“Says the guy who ripped this shirt off me in the supply closet.” Rolling her eyes, she takes a step away. “I’m going to make myself presentable in the bathroom. I’d do it out here, but I’m scared Dumber might take a picture and post it on a porn site.”
“Wait, the names Dumb and Dumber actually correspond to each of them?” Morris says in surprise. “I thought it was more of a general thing. Which one is Dumber?”
The second the question leaves his mouth, a muffled crash reverberates from the booth, and we all turn to see Pace tangled up on the floor. Yup, the guy who spent an hour regaling me about his cow-tipping days back in Iowa? Tipped himself right over.
From behind the glass, Pace bounces to his feet, notices us staring, and mouths the words, “I’m okay!”
Morris sighs. “I withdraw the question.”
As Daisy leaves to fix her shirt, Morris casually follows me to the booth door. “First caller’s already on hold,” he tells me. “I screened her and wrote her info on the sheet.”
My forehead creases. “Did you open the lines before I got here?”
He wears a sheepish look. “Not on purpose. I was calling my dad and pressed the wrong button, and then the phone rang and I was already in there so I took the caller’s info. She’s got an urgent G-spot question for Evelyn, so this should be interesting.”
“Isn’t it always?” I say with a grin.
I take my seat and conduct my pre-show check. The blinking lights on the phone tell me there are more callers waiting to be screened. I chat with the first one, verify his motives, then send him back on hold. I’m about to screen the next one when Pace and Evelyn kick off the show.
“What’s up, broskis!” Pace greets the radio audience. “You’re listening to Whatcha Need with Pace ’N Evelyn.”
Cringing, Evelyn leans into her microphone. “Before we start, I’d like to ask everyone to speak in their indoor voices today, because I am currently sporting a brutal hang-over.” She glares at her co-host. “I’m talking to you, asswipe.”
And so it begins.
“Let’s chat with our first caller,” Pace says cheerfully. “Who we talking to right now?”
Since I’m not eager to listen to Evelyn talk about G-spots, I lean forward to take another call, only to freeze in my chair when a familiar voice wafts out of the speaker over the door.
“Hey, this is Logan.”
My pulse speeds up.
Oh God.
What the hell is he doing?
“Tell us whatcha need, my man.”
My boyfriend audibly clears his throat. “Well, here’s the thing, Pace. And Evelyn—hey, Evelyn, female opinion definitely appreciated. I’m hoping you guys can give me some advice on how to win my girl back.”
Pace chuckles into the mic. “Ooooh boy. Someone found themselves in the dog house?”
“Big-time,” Logan confirms.
“What’d you do to piss off your lady? We need the deets before we dispense the wisdom.”
Every inch of me tenses as I await Logan’s response. God. I can’t believe he’s about to air our dirty laundry on this stupid campus show.
“Long story short? I projected my own fears and insecurities on her, and made some presumptions that I probably shouldn’t—”