Dearest Clementine (9 page)

“So do girls hook up with their RAs?” I turn to look at him. His eyes are wide, and I realize maybe he thinks I’m insinuating he’s done this, so I shake my head before he misunderstands. “Because that would make for an interesting story. A freshman girl who falls in love with her RA, but they can’t be together, so they sneak around.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” he laughs. “It happens. Obviously, it’s not supposed to, but it’s not illegal or anything. The girls in Warren are eighteen or older. But it’s definitely scandalous when it does go down.”

I drop my pizza and open my journal to a fresh page and start writing.

Forty-five minutes later, I’m still at it. I’m lying on his bed with his pillow tucked under my chest as I lean forward to scribble down ideas. Finally, after I’ve jotted down all of my initial thoughts, I close my book and curl up. I haven’t written like that in so long. I feel weightless and a little buzzed from the euphoria of breaking through and being able to write again.

Gavin is sitting at his desk, but he’s turned his chair around and is staring at me. Why is he staring at me?

“Was that the zone?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“I think you were in the zone. I asked you at least five things, at which point you mumbled something back that was completely incoherent.”

I grin. “Yeah, that was the zone. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. Sometimes I’ll write all night if I’m on a roll.” Seeing my uneaten pizza, I groan. “No wonder I’m famished.” I take a few bites. “Have I told you how much I love pizza?”

He seems happy that I’m eating, and I’m so thrilled to be writing again, I have a hard time not smiling around a mouthful of food.

“So now you have your idea, and you’re all set.”

Sighing, I pull off a mushroom and pop it in my mouth. “I wish. This is a romance novel-writing class. I’ve been writing Young Adult. They’re different.” I roll my eyes at myself, my good mood tempered by how difficult this has been for me.

“So you throw in a few kisses.” He laughs, and I know he’s joking.

I need to choose my words carefully. I could sound all kinds of stupid if I don’t.

“My professor wants us to draw on our own relationships, and that’s not exactly my forte.”

I look away before I can see his reaction.
Why am I telling him this?

“But you’ve been in a relationship before, right?” he asks hesitantly. Before I can respond, he shrugs. “I’m sure you could pull it off.”

Groaning, I take another bite. “Theoretically, that’s true. But my one significant relationship did not have a happy ending, and I don’t date. You know this about me.” I tear apart a piece of crust. “Based on the examples we’re reading, Professor Marceaux wants hot sex and a happily ever after. I don’t do either.”

The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret saying them. Shit. I glance over, and he’s grinning. Then he cracks up laughing.

“Clementine, you surprise me. No one ever surprises me anymore.”

I look down, embarrassed.

He clears his throat. “Well, if it means anything, I think you could pull both off.”

“Pull what off?”

“Hot sex and the happily ever after,” he says with a wink.

* * *

Something is warm against my chest, and I have my arm wrapped around a body pillow that’s so snuggly, I think I moan.

Wait. I don’t have a body pillow.

I’m exhausted, and it takes a few seconds to open my eyes. When I do, I see a blue flannel shirt.

I am wrapped around Gavin’s body with my arm over his chest and my thigh over his. And what a body it is. In my early-morning haze, all I can think about are his hard pecs underneath me, and I really want to run my hands down over his abs.

Oh, God.

It’s not that I mind being with him because he’s fucking hot, but I have no idea how I ended up in the nook of his arm with my head on his chest. I can’t get up, though, because the bed is so narrow that my back is against the wall. Glancing around the room, I’m relieved when I see the clock. It’s still early.

I try to disentangle myself without waking him, but he sighs deeply and stretches.

“Hey, good morning,” he says like finding me in his bed is normal.

“Hi.” What do I say?
Thanks for the pizza and the snuggle, but I gotta go?
No, that doesn’t sound right. I decide to be direct. “Gavin, how did I end up wrapped around you?”

He chuckles against me. I’m glad someone is amused.

“You fell asleep, and damn, girl, you’re a sound sleeper.” His voice is deep and scratchy and pretty damn sexy. He stretches again, his hard muscles flexing beneath me, and yawns. “I tried waking you up, twice, but then I gave up and rolled you over. As for being wrapped around me, I think it’s because I’m irresistible. You couldn’t resist even when you were practically in a coma.” His eyes close, and he’s wearing a self-satisfied smile.

My cheeks flame, and I shake my head. Why am I always embarrassed around this guy? It’s not like we had sex or anything. We’re fully clothed.

A nervous laugh escapes me. “It’s good to see you’re embracing your modesty this morning, but I have to get to work by nine.”

I start to sit up, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back to him, turning and snuggling into me.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look really cute in the morning, especially when you’re embarrassed? And God, you smell good.” He buries his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin, and goose bumps break out on my arms. “You think you might want to go for a run with me later this weekend? Maybe tomorrow evening? I’m thinking I might be able to kick your ass, but I’d like to be sure.”

Laughing, I say, “You need to be careful what you wish for.”

And clearly, so do I.

* * *

Sneaking up the stairs to my apartment wearing yesterday’s clothes gives me a moment of pause.
Maybe everyone is still asleep.
I turn my key quietly and open the door to find Jenna and Harper.

“Thank God you’re okay,” Jenna yells as she rushes toward me, enveloping me in a hug.

Harper watches me with a raised eyebrow. “Do my eyes deceive me or are you doing the morning-after walk of shame?”

“Ha, Harper, ha!” I pry Jenna’s arms off me and ignore the heat rising to my cheeks. “Yes, I stayed at Gavin’s but only because I fell asleep on his bed, and no, we didn’t have sex.”

Jenna, who was looking so hopeful at the mention of Gavin’s name, deflates like a balloon. “There I was thinking he had popped your cherry.”

“Jesus, you’re getting as bad as Ryan.” Jenna likes to think of me as some kind of born-again virgin. “Yesterday we went climbing, and then we did homework. That’s it.”

“When are you going to give us some juicy details?” Jenna is pouting. “That boy is too delish for words, and this is all you have for us?”

“I thought you were madly in love with Ryan. Why are you scoping out Gavin?”

She cocks her head toward me, her messy ponytail hanging sideways. “Holy shit. You’re jealous!” Jenna giggles like a fool.

The bedroom door behind her opens, and Dani, our youngest roommate, stumbles out. Her thick, dark hair is twisted up into a bun. Hot pink tips stick out in a crazy disarray from her hair tie.

“What’s going on?” She rubs her eyes and before she surveys the three of us. “Hi, Clem.”

“Hi, Dani. Sorry we woke you.” I take off my jacket and reach into the mini-fridge for some OJ before I turn back to my audience. “As much fun as this has been, I have to go to work. I’ve been meaning to ask if you guys still have any textbooks you need. I have to buy them to get my discount, but you can pay me back.”

Dani looks suddenly very awake, but she stays quiet.

“Jenna? Harper?”

They shake their heads. I turn to Dani, who is fidgeting. She obviously wants something. I feel bad that I’ve hardly uttered two words to her since we’ve met. I should be friendly even though it’s not one of my noteworthy qualities.

“Dani, what do you need? Write it down, be specific, and include your cell number on it, so if I have any questions, I’ll call you, okay?”

She gives me a shy smile and nods.

After a quick shower, I get dressed and come out to find Dani’s note with a list of three textbooks.

“Hey,” Harper says over my shoulder, “that was nice of you to help Dani. A little unlike you, but nice. Clementine Avery, I think you’re showing your soft underbelly.”

“Shut up, slut. I’ll shank you in your kidney if you tell anyone about this.”

Harper’s laughter bursts through the apartment.

“Here I was thinking you’d gone soft.”

Maybe I have.

-
7 -

One thing is clear. This is a terrible idea.

I stare at Gavin’s text:
Run with me tomorrow. I’ll even let you beat me.

Running is too personal. It would be like doing our laundry together when we only just met. Working out like that—side by side, measuring our strides to match one another and finding that perfect pace—is more bonding than I’m ready for.

Distance. I should create some distance.

I decline his offer. I even include a smiley face so I don’t sound bitchy, which frustrates me more because he has me using emoticons like a twelve-year-old.

After a long shift at work, made longer by random thoughts about Gavin, I try to buckle down and write, and although I have an outline, my characters don’t feel right. I’m missing something. I might be able to eke it out if the teaching assistant grades my submission, but once we get into critique groups, my peers will tear this up. Never mind that this will never cut it as material for a full-blown novel.

I’m so frustrated that I go for a jog. It’s dark outside, and I know it’s not smart to go alone, but my roommates are out, and I have too much pent-up energy. The moon is bright, and the sky is clear. I blast music and run until I’m numb.

As I slow to a walk when I reach my block, a flyer for Olivia catches my eye. Glancing up and down my street, I try to ignore the creepy sensation that I’m being watched and hustle to my apartment.

* * *

The next morning, Harper pokes her head into my room. “We’re headed to Ryan’s later. Want to come and do some laundry with me? Jenna is going to show Dani how to make those awesome grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Ryan doesn’t mind that we use him for his washer?” Glancing at my overflowing hamper, I know I should take advantage of the offer.

“As long as we bring his girlfriend, I don’t think he cares.”

I agree, packing one load of dirty clothes along with my laptop and journal so I can work. Dani and I pile in the back seat while Harper drives, and Jenna takes shotgun. Harper mentions my book cover problem to Dani as we drive through campus.

“You don’t need a designer. I can do a cover for you,” Dani says as she roots around in her purse for some gum.

“Really? Because I suck at that stuff. Do you think you can track down a stock photo for it? Oh, and do you know anyone who designs websites? Mine is in serious need of a facelift.”

She unwraps the gum and pops it in her mouth. “I could take some pics for you, and I definitely have friends who could do your website.”

“That would be huge! I will totally pay you for the work you do on my cover.”

Dani shakes her head like the idea offends her. “No way. You’re my roommate. It’s, like, against the code or something.”

I glance at Jenna in the front seat, who nods like I’m an idiot for not knowing that Dani is so cool.

“Okay, if you’re not going to take my money, let me buy you some art supplies ’cause I know that shit is expensive.”

Dani smiles and offers me some gum. “Deal, but I want to read your book. Jenna says you’re a great writer.”

I kick Jenna’s seat in front of me, and she gives me the finger. I chew my lip as I think about it.

“All right, but you’re sworn to secrecy. I write under a pen name, and I don’t want that getting out. And when I say secrecy, we’re talking blood oath or I get your first child.”

Dani laughs but agrees, and we brainstorm different cover concepts. Ten minutes later, I’m feeling better about life.

“This is so huge, Dani. Thank you. My publicist has been on my ass to redo my cover and website for ages.”

Her eyes widen. “Wow, you have a publicist?”

“Since I’m an indie—I’m not with some big publishing company—I pay her by the service she provides, but she’s really good at getting blogs to review my book and helping me get traffic on my blog so people can read excerpts from other things I’m writing.”
Like half-written books.
I scowl at my inner cynic and return my attention to my roommate.

Dani and I talk non-stop until we reach Ryan’s, and then we each grab a load of laundry and trudge across the yard. As I amble up the steps to Ryan’s two-story house while trying to balance a basket of dirty clothes on my hip, the music hits me first—the Notre Dame fight song and cheering.