Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (7 page)

If I'm completely honest, I hate it here. Outside of Veronica, I haven't made a lot of friends. I guess I could count Jordan and Davis, but I assume they're only being nice because of Scotty. And don't get me started on my brother. I came all this way, hoping we would be able to rekindle our bond. So far, the only quality time we've spent together was the morning I woke up in Brantley's bed and he took me out to breakfast. Since then, he's either had class, practice, or he's been hanging out with Ashley. My course schedule is too much, and I'm close to failing calculus. All of this has been piling up, and then add on the fact I'm at my first frat party at this school and the only person to pay me any interest was a drunken asshole who just wanted to show me his room.

When my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror I can't hold back any longer. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and before I can swipe them away, they fall down my face, soaking the front of my shirt. I'm bending down to splash cold water on my face when the door bursts open and someone steps through.

"Oh, wow, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here," says a familiar voice. I lift my gaze back to the mirror and stare at yet another person who wants nothing to do with me. I realize now I've never felt so lonely in my life. And just that quickly, the waterworks start up again. "Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry I surprised you like that."

He stands by the door, looking uncomfortable, with his hands tucked in the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes dart back and forth between my reflection and the closed door beside him. I can tell he's conflicted. On one hand, I'm Scott's little sister, and he may feel the need to protect me. On the other, that same loyalty to my brother calls him to uphold the bro' code he was spouting off about. In this moment, I couldn't care less about either. I'm upset and just want some damn privacy. To hell with all of these rules and obligations. Just once I'd like to come first in someone's life. When Justin and I were dating, he always talked about how I was number one in his life. But the irony was, his love for hockey and his family always kept me at a distant third.

Before I know it, strong arms envelop me, and I'm cocooned in the warmth of his body. "Shhh. It's okay, Cassie." His big hand smoothes over the back of my hair and down my back. "It's gonna be okay."

BRANTLEY

My arms are wrapped tightly around her tiny waist. She's taller than I first assumed, yet the top of her head barely reaches the top of my chest. I lower my head, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her strawberry-scented shampoo, and it's just as I remembered. I move to pull away, but she fists my shirt in her hands and cries even harder. My brows wrinkle in confusion, and I'm not sure what I should do.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you? Which one of these assholes do I have to kill?" I say it to try and make her laugh, but something inside me tells me if she says one of these dickheads laid a hand on her, I won't hesitate to follow through on that offer.

She doesn't answer right away, so I keep quiet and simply hold her. I've never had a sister, but I suppose this is what Rivers would do if he were here and she was crying uncontrollably. The only problem with that analogy is, being this close stirs up memories of her lying on top of me. Knowing how close I came to sleeping with her concerns me. There's a war going on inside my head right now. One voice is screaming, telling me to let go and walk away. While another is quietly pointing out how good she feels wrapped in my arms. It's only when she shifts beneath me that I take a much needed step back.

"No," she sniffs and wipes a hand over one side of her face. I reach around her to grab a few tissues then hold them out for her to take. "Thank you. I promise I'm fine. It's just a lot of shit kinda bubbled over and I needed a good cry. I think I'd just like to go back to the dorms." Her eyes shift between my face and the floor, and I can tell she's embarrassed about crying in front of me.

"Hey," I try keeping my voice soft, hoping it will help her calm down. My hand reaches out and lifts her chin, and I brush my thumb over her cheek. "Don't be embarrassed. We all need a good cry every now and again. Personally, I cried like a baby my first year."

"You?" A soft giggle escapes her throat as she shakes her head at my admission. "I don't believe that. You're too cool to lose it like this."

I use my finger to draw an imaginary X across my chest while nodding. "Cross my heart it's the honest truth. But do me a favor and don't tell the guys. I have a reputation to uphold." This gets me a deep laugh and I sense she's coming back around. "Listen, maybe it would be best if you headed home. This isn't the best scene to be around when you're feeling vulnerable. I would hate for something to happen." I'm thinking about some asshole trying to get in her pants, but I'm pretty sure she has no idea that's what I'm implying.

"I was trying to find my friend, but I think she's already in one of these rooms with her fuck buddy." She scrunches up her face when she says this.

"Not a fan of hooking up, I take it."

"It's not the hook-up that disgusts me. It's the guy she's with. He's a total D-bag. Like, seriously, straight up prick."

I nod, because I can only imagine which one of these losers her friend has set her sights on. Out of all the fraternities on campus, this one seems to have drawn the largest population of assholes.

"Would you like me to take you back to your dorm?" My feet shuffle over the tiled floor, and I realize I'm nervous. I want her to say yes, while at the same time I'm silently pleading with her to turn down my offer.

"Okay. That would be really nice. I was assuming I would have to walk back alone."

I blow out a nervous breath and take a step forward. My lips meet her forehead before I can second-guess my decision. Thankfully, I don't go lower, though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't where I'd originally intended to end up. There's just something about this girl that hits me like a stick to the gut. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

***

It's a nice night, and for once I'm glad I chose to walk rather than drive the short distance. I hadn't even planned on stopping by. But one of the guys from the team said he wanted to check out the new freshmen babes. I'd followed along just to witness him make an ass of himself. He totally did, too. I swear, the guy's reputation precedes him because most of the new chicks flat out refused to speak to him. I couldn't help but laugh. Women talk, especially ones who have been burned before.

We see them all the time. Puck bunnies. They're chicks who hang around practice, go to every game, all in the hopes of hooking up with one of the players. The way they go about it is a joke. They walk around campus on game day, wearing the jersey of the player they hope to get busy with. Sometimes you'll see ten girls walking around with the same player's jersey, and you actually feel sorry for the poor sap for having to choose between them. I've been there, on more than one occasion, and I can honestly say it is quite the ego trip. The rules seem to be quite simple. The girl and the player know the score before they even do the deed. But, without fail, there's always one girl who becomes too attached, and when she discovers she was just another notch on his hockey stick, she gets angry and spreads all sorts of slanderous gossip.

For me, making the choice between girls was usually pretty easy. I prefer blondes, but I also like a girl I can have a stimulating conversation with. Even if we're just hooking up for sex. I don't want to listen to nonsense spewing forth from her mouth while we're making out. It's a complete turn off for me. But lately, I haven't been going home with any of them. After a while it became mundane, and I'm not looking for mundane. Quite frankly, I'm not looking for anything. I'd just prefer to meet someone I can make a connection with on a level that goes deeper than some girl looking to ride my stick. You know what I'm saying? That doesn't mean I want a relationship.
Screw that
. I would just like to have a chick for a friend. You know, maybe someone I can talk to about all of this shit going on inside my head related to my parents.

That's why I'm enjoying my chats with Candy. I'm actually looking forward to meeting her tomorrow. We've only been texting over a period of a week, but from the short replies she's been sending I get the impression we could hit it off.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the girls we've affectionately dubbed as Jersey Girls. These are the girls you see in class, or on campus. The ones who make certain parts of your body stand up and take notice. And when you see them attending practice or a game you catch yourself skating faster, playing harder. They're the ones you want to find cheering for you. The girl you find yourself inviting to games, even going so far as to throw her a wave during warm ups. And, finally, she's the one you hope to see wearing your jersey while you're busting your ass out on the ice. If you're lucky, you'll get to see her wearing that same jersey, and nothing else, the morning after. Whether your team won or lost, it doesn't matter, cause when she's in your arms, you feel as if you've just won the Stanley Cup.

"How long have you been playing hockey?" Her words sound as if she's out of breath, and I notice she has to take three steps to match just one of mine. I chuckle and slow my pace.

"The earliest memory for me would have to be three years old, but mom swears my dad had me on the ice with him when I first started walking. My dad used to play when he was younger, and he had this pair of skates custom made for me. They were so small. They're displayed on a shelf in my old bedroom back in Colorado."

"Aw, that is really cute. I'd love to see a picture of those." She turns her head so our eyes meet, and in the evening light the blue of her eyes positively twinkles.
Holy shit
. I turn and look up at the sky to keep myself from staring at her.

"I'll see what I can do about that. Rivers told me you're a music major. What exactly do you do?"

"I write music, mainly. Music composition is my focus."

"That's really cool. So I guess that means you can play an instrument. Am I right?" I spin on my heel and walk backwards in order to see her face as she's talking. She gives me a look and bites nervously on her lip.

"Aren't you afraid of tripping or something?"

"Nah, I'm a highly skilled hockey player. I've spent most of my life balancing on a thin blade. I think I can manage walking backwards. Besides, it makes it easier to see you when you're talking."

"In that case, I'll leave you to it. I'm not coordinated enough to walk backwards and talk." She snorts out a laugh.

"Ah, a clumsy one. I take it your brother got all the coordination genes. That's cool. And thanks for the heads up. I'll be sure to watch out for cracks for you and stuff like that." I crack a smile at her expense, and she gives me an incredible gift: a smile that lights up her entire face. She has these perfectly straight teeth that can only have come from an excellent orthodontist, or lucky genes. But what really gets me is the pair of perfectly placed dimples located on either side of her mouth. When she gives me this full-on smile, I'm struck by how deep and adorable those simple little divots are. It's almost as if I've discovered a rare diamond on her face. Or some sappy crap like that. Honestly, I don't know what's going on with me right now. I only know we're almost to her dormitory and I'm scrambling for a way to make this walk last longer.

"So, instrument?"

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Well, I play the piano and acoustic guitar." She does a little skip to avoid walking through a small puddle, and I find myself unable to stop staring at her mouth. "And, I also sing."

"No shit? I think I'd like to hear you sing for me sometime. Maybe you can come over and perform for me." I say this without thinking about how it might sound.

"Umm... I mean, sure. I can do that." She stops walking and I realize we've reached the entrance to her building. She hooks a thumb over her shoulder and turns back to me. "Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home."

I stuff my hands in my pockets and rock back on my heels. "Cassie, I wanted-" I want to tell her that morning didn't mean anything, and I think we could be friends. But the words stay lodged in my throat. "I'm really glad I ran into you tonight."

"Yeah, me too." She tucks her hair behind her ear, and her gaze shifts nervously to the group of students approaching us. "Well, goodnight."

"Night," I mumble, but she's already gone inside.

CASSIE

I stand inside the door and watch him walk away, silently willing him to turn around one last time. But he doesn't. I roll my eyes, knowing this crush I have is completely ridiculous. But it doesn't take a genius to see he was totally flirting with me. It wasn't so much the words he said, but his body language spoke volumes. The way he held me in the bathroom. The tender kiss he placed on my forehead, for no apparent reason. Caring about me enough to walk me all the way home, when I know how far he lives from my dorm.

Nearly a month has passed since we first met, and the interest I have in him continues to grow. Maybe it's because I get to admire him from afar while in the lecture hall; and the secret texting we've been doing hasn't hurt. Every time I think about the way I've been deceiving him, I get this knife to the gut feeling, and I know I should put a stop to it. The first few days it had seemed harmless. Now, after the kindness he showed at the party, I know I can't continue with the lie. I figure it's best to end it now before anyone gets hurt. Besides, now that he's actually speaking to me, I don't need to keep up the charade.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see I've missed three texts from Roni.

Where'd u go?

OMG! UR not screwing that guy I saw u talking 2? R u?

Staying at Josh's.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I send him a text.

Me: Something came up. I can't meet. Sorry.

I change into something comfortable and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The bathroom is empty, and I figure most of my floor is still at the stupid party I just left. I see one of the girls from my Wednesday night crew and we chat for a few minutes before both heading back to our rooms to get on with our pathetic lives. When I get back, I check my phone and see I've missed Brantley's reply.