Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1) (8 page)

Him: What? I kinda had my heart set on our little study session.

Him: Now, whom do I have 2 pass all this knowledge on 2?

Me: Admit it. U kinda, sorta DO like me. Don't u?

Him: I guess we'll never know.

Me: I guess we won't.

Him: I'm not gonna lie. It makes me sad.

Him: I had this vision of u built up in my mind. I kinda wanted 2 see how close I was.

Me: Oh, now I'm curious. Do tell.

Him: Let's see... Hair: Red Eyes: Green Body: A perfect 10.

Me: Not even remotely close. But I seem 2 recall seeing that woman in the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

Him: Ha ha. Duly noted. For the record, in my vision u were never a cartoon character. U were definitely real.

This is all too much for me to handle. He's super sweet and knowing nothing will ever happen between us makes my stomach hurt. I need to put an end to this whole lie right away.

Me: Sorry, I have 2 go. Thanks for the laughs. It's been fun.

Him:?

Him: Candy? Hello?

I decide not to respond, and turn off my phone before climbing into bed. Lying flat on my back, I stare at the ceiling, feeling like I've lost a good friend. I know it sounds crazy, but I've grown fond of our chats. Even though they were short and not very personal, I feel as if we've really connected. I'm going to miss this, but I know it's for the best.

I tell myself that thirty-seven more times before I finally drift off to sleep and dream of cartoon characters skating with sexy hockey players.

***

Veronica doesn't come back to the dorms by the time lunch rolls around, but she does send another text letting me know she's safe.

With nothing to keep me occupied, I head over to the music department to work on my song. It's Sunday, and the rehearsal rooms are empty, for the most part. I situate myself at one of the many available pianos and spread out my music. The song I've written is about a woman who's afraid to let herself love again. This isn't a personal story. I'm not afraid of love, or falling in love again. But I'm not exactly looking for it either. Truth be told, I didn't choose to write this song. This song chose me.

I love the entire process of composing. Writing the lyrics. Putting it to music. Laying down tracks. I've written two songs before this piece, all of which were done long before I moved to Ann Arbor. Not only will this song count towards my grade, but I also plan on utilizing the vast resources available through local recording studios. My goal is to take these songs and record them to be used as a demo. If I allowed myself to dream big, which I do, the icing on the cake would be for an artist to pick up one, or all, of my songs and record them as their own.

I play through a quick warm-up before moving on to the piece I wrote. The melody for this song always hits me hard. I was really struggling with it when I first started this class, but one of the instructors overheard me struggling and once we played through it a few times, he started playing this string of chords that brought it all together. As I play, I softly sing through the heart wrenching lyrics. Listening to this song, you'd think I've had my heart shattered into a million pieces, but that's not the case.

"I swear that sounds more beautiful every time I hear it." A quiet voice speaks behind me. I look over my shoulder and find one of my classmates standing in the doorway. I believe his name is Mitch, but we've never been formally introduced. "Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, it's just a beautifully composed piece. May I?" He points to the other half of the piano bench. When I nod, he joins me and looks over my music. "It's Cassie, right? I'm Mitch."

"Yes, you're right." I offer a warm smile that he immediately returns. He has a nice face, and when he smiles, I can see that his bottom teeth are a little crooked. "It's nice to meet you, Mitch. What year are you?"

"I'm a junior, but this is only my second year in this field. I spent my freshman year goofing off, so my parents told me I needed to buckle down and get my shit together or they wouldn't continue paying for college. So I moved out of the frat house and picked a major. Even after two years, I don't think I'm anywhere near your caliber. That song really is something special. It has this quality to it. It's almost..."

"Haunting?" I finish his thought, and he turns to me and nods.

"Exactly. I have to ask. Is this about you?" he asks, looking at my music sheets, reading through the lyrics. "It's so personal."

"No, it's not about me. But I get what you're saying. When I wrote it, I was actually sitting in the middle of the park, watching mothers push their children on the swings. I saw this one mom who couldn't have been more than her late twenties, and she looked so lost. The wheels in my mind started churning, and by the time I got up to leave, I'd manifested this whole scenario about her tragically losing her husband. The words practically wrote themselves." I stare straight ahead, picking at imaginary lint on my leggings.

"Well, it's really powerful. Your imagination has served you well." He moves to stand, while I remain on the bench, still fiddling with my pants. "I better get going. It's was nice to finally meet you, Cassie. Hope I see you around."

I offer up a small wave and then, as quietly as he arrived, he disappears down the hall.

I gather my belongings and stuff them in my backpack. I've been in this room for nearly three hours, but I'm still restless. I don't want to stay here, but I also don't feel like heading back to the dorms. I have my notes with me, so I decide to head over to the coffee house to study for my calculus test.

My phone vibrates as I'm walking out the door, and when I look down I see Justin's text.

I miss u, baby.

His words send chills up my spine. God, I hate his need to control everything. I quickly delete it, feeling a great sense of satisfaction as I watch it disappear, then text Roni to let her know I won't be joining her for dinner. I'm not sure where she is, but I don't want her to worry. Her response comes quickly.

Thnx. I'll grab dinner with Josh.

***

The coffee house is fairly quiet for a Sunday evening, so finding a cozy spot in the back is easy. Pulling my laptop, notes, and headphones out of my bag, I line everything up and press play on my favorite playlist. I'm so engrossed in my notes that I fail to see Brantley enter the room until it's too late. He spots me and offers up a half wave, which I return. When he makes a move to come my way I actually hold my breath. He reaches the booth and hesitates for a moment before sliding in across from me.

"Hey." It's not much, but it's all I can manage at the moment. It's a simple word, but it comes out sounding breathy, like I'm totally into him or something. Which I totally am, but I can't let him know that.

"Hey, yourself. Looks like you were really engrossed there. What are you studying?" He reaches for my notes, but I pull them protectively against my chest. If he sees what I'm studying, he may put two and two together.
After all, he is a calculus god
. A voice screams from deep inside my head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"No. I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just something personal. So, how have you been?"

"You mean since we talked last night?" He laughs, and it's this deep, sexy sound that goes straight to my lady bits. "I'm good, I guess. Just here, looking for someone. What about you?"

There's a part of me that wonders just who it is he's looking for, and I have to remind myself I have no right to be jealous. "Oh, I'm just passing time. I just left one of the rehearsal rooms and didn't feel like going back to an empty dorm."

"Is your roommate gone a lot?" As he asks this, he pulls out his phone and looks down. The frown on his face tells me he's not happy with what he sees. A pang of jealousy shoots straight through me as I picture him holding that redhead I saw at the bar. I wonder if she's been lucky enough to wake up in his arms. The way she looked at him that night tells me I already know the answer to that question. He's not even mine and I'm already feeling possessive. That can't be a good thing. Can it?

"Lately she is, but that's only because she's met her latest conquest," I laugh, and a snorting sound shoots out my nose, causing me to blush. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It was..."

"Disgusting."

"Cute." We say simultaneously.

I quirk my brow at him, and he flashes me a quick wink.
I knew it!
I knew he'd been flirting with me last night.

We continue talking and enjoying one another's company. Although he frequently checks his phone, he seems to be engrossed in our conversation. At one point I see him typing and assume he's talking with another girl, or maybe Scotty. When my phone vibrates with a text, I casually glance to the right and see a text from him. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice, because he's too busy typing again. My phone vibrates again and I move my hand to slide it my way when another text comes through. This time, he's staring right at me, and when he glances down at my screen his eyes go wide with recognition.

BRANTLEY

When her phone vibrates, I think nothing of it. Girls text one another all the time. No big deal. And when she doesn't bother checking, I assume it's either her roommate or her brother. But when I fire off the next two texts, and her phone just happens to vibrate at the exact same time, I know it's more than a coincidence. The funny thing is, I should be really angry right now, and I am. But the feeling that takes me by surprise is I'm actually hurt she felt the need to lie to me. All these lies just to pass a stupid calculus test?

The silence between us is downright creepy. I'm quite certain the look on my face is one of confusion, but the look on hers pains me. It's one of complete mortification and despair. Now, I don't know her all that well, but I know the difference between someone pretending to be ashamed, and someone truly remorseful for what they've done. My first inclination is to get up and leave her to wallow in her shame, but when her eyes pool with tears I'm rooted in my chair. This is the second time I've seen her crying, and I don't like the way it makes me feel. I'm not sure how to describe it, other than as a tightness in my chest, but suffice it to say it's unsettling. I want to make sure she's okay, but I also need to hear why she felt the need to lie, and if there was ever a calculus test she needed help passing.

I push my chair back and stand, torn between staying and leaving. Her eyes are wide as saucers, revealing so much more than words could ever convey. There's an innocent quality to her I find refreshing in this sea of aggressive females. I know guys love the idea of having women who make themselves available whenever they call. But I'm willing to bet twice as many secretly desire having a woman look at them with eyes that tell a story like the one I'm reading right now. It's as if they're begging me to pull her close and hold her in my arms, not like we were before, but in a comforting 'I'm here for you' sort of way.

"Please, don't go. I can explain." Her voice is barely audible over the sound of machines whirring in the background, but her pleading tone is hard to miss. "Please," she begs.

My hesitation only increases her despair. She's staring at me, her eyes wide and teary, lips still parted by her last spoken word. It's all too much for me to handle.

"Save your tears for someone else, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but I can't deal with this right now. I thought... Hell, I don't know what I thought."

I storm out of the coffee shop without a backward glance. I know if I were to look back over my shoulder, I would probably find her crying, and I'm not ready to deal with that shit. I don't owe her anything. She lied. Pretended to be someone else. Who does that kind of shit? If she's trying to pay me back for the brush-off I gave her at the bar then I'd have to say job well done. If she's trying to make me feel like a fool, she certainly achieved that. But when I think about it, none of those reasons make any sense.

I only make it three blocks before I turn around and haul ass back to the coffee shop. If I had an ounce of backbone, I'd listen to the voices in my head screaming this is a mistake. In my head, I know the smartest thing for me to do is keep walking and not look back. I try telling myself that in three or four days, this will all pass and she'll become a distant memory of another girl whose tears have been caused by something or other I've done. I know all of this, yet I still take a step forward and place my hand on the door.

The little bell over the door chimes loudly upon my entrance, and I turn my eyes in the direction of the booth. She's there, but her head is down, her forehead resting on the flat surface of the table. I approach the table slowly and rest my palms flat on its top as I lower my face down to hers.

"Answer one question. Why the elaborate lie?"

Startled, she lifts her head and blinks a few times. She doesn't answer at first, but I can see she's trying to get a read on my anger. I step back and draw a few cleansing breaths in an attempt to help me calm down. A few seconds pass, and the pounding in my heart slows to a steady staccato.

"It wasn't all a lie," she says quietly. I quirk my brow in question as our eyes lock together. "I mean, yeah, I lied about who I was, but I really do need help with my test."

"Why didn't you just come right out and tell me who you were the first time you texted?"

"I started to. But then I reflected back on the morning we met, and I was afraid you wouldn't want anything to do with me." As she speaks, her hands fidget nervously, and I wonder what it is about me that makes her so uneasy. She acted the same way in the bar the night we bumped into one another. "Look, I'm really sorry about deceiving you this way. I was just hoping for a chance to apologize for my behavior in your room. I was clearly out of line and didn't respect your wishes."

"Your behavior wasn't that bad," I chuckle and lower myself into the booth. Looking back on that morning, the look in her eyes as she'd launched herself at me and the way her lips had felt when pressed against mine, I couldn't help but smile. I'd spent three whole days replaying that memory over and over in my mind. She'd turned me on. There was no denying it then, and there's no denying it today. If circumstances were different, and she weren't my best friend's sister, I wouldn't be sitting across from her and watching her struggle. She'd be in my lap and we'd be locked in a kiss that would leave us both breathless and eager to get the hell out of here. But the fact remains that however desirable she may be, she's still off-limits.