Easy (6 page)

Still relatively early,
the small club we decided to occupy for the night wasn’t yet overcrowded with
the hundreds of college students and townies it would hold soon. Erin, Maggie
and I claimed a corner of the near-vacant floor. Having downed the drinks and dressed
the part, I moved to the music, gradually loosening up while laughing at Erin’s
cheer poses and Maggie’s ballet movements. The first guy to interrupt us approached
Erin, but she shook her head as her lips mouthed the word
boyfriend.
She
turned him toward me and I thought: That’s me: boyfriend-less. No more
relationship. No more Kennedy. No more
You’re my Jackie
.

“Wanna dance?” the
guy yelled over the music, fidgeting as though he was ready to bolt if I turned
him down. I nodded, choking back the pointless, almost physical pain. I was no
one’s girlfriend, for the first time in three years.

We moved to an
open space a few feet from Erin and Maggie—who also had a boyfriend. It didn’t
take long to figure out that the two of them planned to point every guy who
asked one of them to dance at
me
. I was their pet project for the night.

Two hours later,
I’d danced with too many guys to remember, dodging wandering hands and turning
down any drinks not handed to me by Erin. Crowded around a tall table near the
floor, we leaned hips on the barstools surrounding it, watching the surrounding
hookup activity. As Maggie returned from bopping and pirouetting her way to the
bathroom and back, I asked if we could go yet, and Erin fixed me with a look
she usually reserved for ill-mannered steakhouse patrons. I smirked at her and sipped
my drink.

I knew when the
next guy walked up behind me, and that Erin and Maggie approved, because their
eyes widened simultaneously, focusing over my shoulder. Fingers grazed the back
of my arm, and I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly before turning
around. Good thing, too—because it was Lucas who stood there, his eyes dropping
to my cleavage for a split second. He crooked an eyebrow and gazed into my eyes
with a faint smile, unapologetic for looking. The heels on my boots were
killing my feet, but they weren’t tall enough to bring me eye-to-eye.

Rather than
raising his voice like everyone else, he leaned close to my ear and asked,
“Dance with me?” I felt his warm breath and inhaled the scent of his aftershave—something
basic and male—before he withdrew, his eyes on mine, waiting for my answer. An enthusiastic
nudge between my shoulder blades told me Erin’s vote:
go dance with him
.

I nodded, and he
took my hand and made his way to the floor, maneuvering through the crowd, which
parted easily for him. Once we reached the worn oak floor, he turned and pulled
me close, never letting go of my hand. As we found the rhythm of the slow-paced
song, swaying together, he took my other hand in his and moved both hands
behind my back, gently holding me captive. My breasts grazed against his chest
and I struggled not to gasp at the subtle contact.

I’d barely let anyone
else touch me at all tonight, adamantly refusing all slow dances. Dizzy from weak-but-plentiful
margaritas, I closed my eyes and let him lead, telling myself that the
difference was the alcohol in my blood, nothing more. A minute later, he
released my fingers and spread his hands across my lower back, and my hands
moved to his biceps. Solid, as I knew they would be. Tracking a path, my palms
encountered equally hard shoulders. Finally, I hooked my fingers behind his
neck and opened my eyes.

His gaze was
penetrating, not wavering for a moment, and my pulse hammered under his silent
scrutiny.

Finally, I
stretched up toward his ear, and he leaned down to accommodate my question. “S-so
what’s your major?” I breathed.

From the corner of
my eye, I watched his mouth twitch up on one side. “Do you really want to talk
about that?” He maintained the closeness, our torsos pressed together chest to
thigh, ostensibly waiting for my answer. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d
been so full of pure, unqualified desire.

I swallowed. “As
opposed to talking about what?”

He chuckled, and I
felt the vibrations of his chest against mine. “As opposed to
not
talking.” His hands at my waist gripped a little tighter, thumbs pressing into
my ribcage, fingers still at my lower back.

I blinked, one
moment not understanding what his words implied, and the next knowing unreservedly.

“I don’t know what
you mean,” I lied.

He leaned closer
still, his smooth cheek whispering against mine as he murmured, “Yes, you do.” Struck
again by his scent—clean and subtle, unlike the trendy colognes Kennedy
favored, which always seemed to overpower any scent I wore—I felt an impulse to
bring my fingertips to his face and trail them over his freshly shaven jaw, the
sexy scruff from yesterday gone. His skin wouldn’t redden mine now if he kissed
me, hard. I would feel nothing but his mouth on mine—and maybe that slim ring
at the edge of his lip…

The errant thought
made my breath catch.

When his lips
touched just south of my earlobe, I thought I might pass out. “Let’s just
dance,” he said. Pulling back just far enough to stare into my eyes, he drew my
body against his, and my legs obeyed where his said to go.

Chapter 5

“Holy
fuckburgers
. Who
was
that
hot guy
?” Erin carefully maneuvered her daddy-furnished
Volvo sedan around the people weaving drunkenly through the parking lot. “If I
wasn’t stone cold sober, I’d think he was a figment of my sex-starved
imagination.”

“Psshh,” I mumbled,
eyes closed, my spinning head lolling back against the headrest. “Don’t even
talk to me about
sex-starved
.”

Erin grabbed my
hand and squeezed. “Aw, shit. I’m sorry, J. I forgot.”

It had been three
weeks since my breakup, but I wasn’t about to disclose the fact that it had
been more like four weeks… maybe five, since the last time we’d been at all
intimate. I should have seen Kennedy’s lack of interest for the sign it was,
rather than giving him justifications in my head—he was busy with frat
obligations, while I fit in at least two hours of practice a day—more when I had
ensemble rehearsal. He had his straight-A grade point average to maintain, and
I had music lessons to give.

A minute later,
Maggie piped up from the back seat. “You haven’t answered the question,
Jacqueline
!”
Her speech was almost as slurred as mine, my name pronounced in three distinct
syllables, like three separate words. “Who was that beautiful guy, and more
importantly, why didn’t you solve your sex-starvedness with him? Holy hell, I
think I’d be willing to boot Will outta bed for a night with him!”

“Slut,” Erin said,
rolling her eyes into her rearview mirror.

Maggie laughed.
“In this case… Hell. Yeah.”

They both grew
quiet, staring at me, waiting for me to reveal who he was. I mentally sorted
through everything I knew about him. He’d saved me from Buck’s attack, which I
hadn’t told anyone about. He’d beaten the crap out of Buck, which I likewise hadn’t
told anyone. He’d stared at me all through economics on Wednesday, and then
ignored me completely on Friday, which I hadn’t told anyone. He worked at the
Starbucks. And he kept asking me if I was okay… but he hadn’t asked me that tonight.

Tonight had been
something else altogether. By unspoken agreement, we’d danced several dances
without stopping—slow, fast, and everything in between. His hands never left my
body, triggering an upsurge of longing I’d not felt in a very long time—longer
than four or five weeks ago. His hands hadn’t wandered inappropriately, his
fingers not even teasing beneath the fabric of my top at the waist, but they’d
seared the skin beneath regardless.

And then he
disappeared. Bending, his lips next to my ear, he thanked me for the dances,
led me back to my table, and vanished into the throng of people. I hadn’t seen
him again, and could only assume he’d left the club.

“His name is Lucas.
He’s in my economics class. And he draws stuff.”

Maggie began
giggling and slapped the leather seat. “He draws stuff? What kind of stuff?
Naked girls? That’s pretty much the extent of most guys’ artistic endeavors.
Usually not even whole girls. Just
boobs
.”

Erin and I laughed
along with her. “I don’t know what he draws. He was just… sketching something
in class Friday. I don’t think he listened to the lecture at all.”

“Oh no, Erin!”
Maggie leaned as far up as her seatbelt would allow. “Sounds like that god of a
man is a
bad student
. We know what that means for Jacqueline.”

I frowned. “What
does it mean?”

Erin shook her
head, smiling. “Come on, J—have you ever in your life been attracted to a bad
boy? Or a boy who’s, um, academically challenged? In other words, a boy who
isn’t—gasp!—a
brainiac?
”

My mouth fell open.
“Shut up! Are you saying I’m an intellectual snob?”

“No! We didn’t say
you were—we don’t mean that. We just mean… you sure didn’t look indifferent to
this Lucas guy tonight, while you two danced together for like
ever
, and
it sounds like he’s maybe not your usual type—”

“My only ‘type’
has been Kennedy for the past three years! Who knows what my type is?”

“Don’t get huffy.
You know what I mean—you don’t even
crush
on dumb guys.”

“Well, who does?”
I rebelled against the idea that Lucas was dumb. Maybe he was unmotivated in
economics, but nothing about him seemed unintelligent.

“Hello!?” Maggie
called. “Do you even
know
Will?” We all dissolved into fits of giggles.
Maggie’s boyfriend was a sweet guy, and he could probably bench press a small
Honda, but he wouldn’t be winning any acclaim for his GPA.

“Chaz is brainier
than me—but that’s not saying much,” Erin said.

I’ve tried
repeatedly to get her to quit knocking her B-average intellect, but at some point
in her life, she became convinced that she’s not smart. I poked her in the arm,
as I have every time she’s spouted that self-deprecating nonsense.

“Ow! I’m just
being honest!”

“No, you’re not.”

“
Anyway
,”
Erin continued, “I’ve been known to slum it and shop in the gag-him-and-bag-him
aisles, believe it or not.” Maggie hooted a laugh behind us as Erin continued. “Have
y’all seen the guy who took me to senior prom?” We’d all seen her photos of
that guy—the Adonis in a tux, his arm around her silk-clad waist. “What a
body—holy cow, I just wanted to lick his abs. He was in remedial classes, but let
me tell you, he was
gifted and talented
at plenty of non-academic occupations.”

I was pretty sure
my face was on fire—as it was whenever my roommate elaborated so explicitly,
and Maggie was laughing so hard she was having trouble breathing. They’d both
come to college single and sexually experienced. Kennedy and I had been
sleeping together since winter break of senior year, but I’d never been with
anyone else. I’d had no complaints about our sex life, though the occasional
magazine article or something Erin said made me wonder if there was more to it than
I knew.

“And all of this
proves—?”

Erin grinned at me. “It proves you’re ready for a long-overdue Bad Boy Phase.”

“Ooohhh,” Maggie sighed.

“Um. I don’t think—”

“
Exactly
.
Don’t think. You’re gonna seduce this Lucas guy and rebound the hell out of
him. That’s the thing about bad boys—they don’t have any qualms about being the
rebound guy because they don’t hang around for long anyway. He probably
lives
for being the rebound guy—especially in a situation like this, where he’ll get
to teach you all sorts of naughty stuff.”

 Maggie endorsed Erin’s
crazy idea with one heavily sighed word. “
Lucky
.”

I thought of Lucas’s
hands at my waist, his mouth grazing my ear, and I shivered. I recalled his
penetrating gaze Wednesday during class, and the breath in my lungs went
shallow. Maybe I was experiencing alcohol perspective, and everything would
look different tomorrow—but at the moment, Erin’s crazy idea was starting to
sound almost
not
crazy.

Oh, hell.

***

I was a ball of nerves as I
approached the classroom Monday morning, unsure if I should initiate the man-snaring
strategy I’d agreed to test on my unsuspecting classmate, or abandon it fully
while I still could. He walked into the room ahead of me, and I watched his
eyes flick over my recently assigned seat, and the vacant one next to Kennedy,
who was already seated, thank God. I had about thirty seconds to reconsider the
whole thing.

Erin and Maggie
hadn’t let up on the thankfully short drive back to the dorm, feeding each
other’s enthusiasm and swearing envy over what I was about to do. Or
who
I was about to do. Since Erin had nothing to drink on Saturday but Diet Dr.
Pepper, she’d sprung out of bed Sunday morning unhungover and chock-full of
plans for Operation Bad Boy Phase.

I pretended more
of a hangover than I had, just to put her off, but Erin with an idea was not
readily put off. Determined to impart her how-to-seduce-a-guy knowledge whether
I wanted it or not, she’d shoved a bottle of orange juice into my hands as I grumbled
and pulled myself to a sitting position. I wanted to tug the covers over my
head and plug my ears, but it was far too late for that.

She plopped next
to me. “First, you have to approach this with
no fear
. Seriously, they
can smell fear. It totally puts them off the scent.”

I frowned. “Off
the scent? That’s so…” I tried to think of a more suitable word than
aaauugh
,
but my brain hadn’t booted up yet.