Out Of The Ashes (2 page)

This time, I blushed in earnest. “Are you making fun of me?”

His grin spread wider, if that was possible. He ran a hand over his short brown hair.

“Maybe. It’s safe enough, seeing as how your hands are full at the moment.”

I gaped at him. This guy was something else. “Look—“

“Clay,” he supplied. “My name is Clay. What’s yours?”

“We’re not giving introductions, here, Clay,” I spluttered angrily. “I appreciate you picking up my books for me. Have a nice life!”

I tried to storm away as best I could while holding a bag full of heavy books, and managed only to wobble as shakily as a newborn foal toward the lot. When I got to my car, I paused. I hadn’t self-consciously adjusted my hair over my face once during my conversation with Clay. I’d been too angry to think about it.

Well good, I thought harshly. Maybe my Frankenstein-like scars scared him to death, and I won’t have to see him again. How satisfying. How terrifying.

When I arrived back at the apartment, Gillian’s infectious smile greeted me. “Hey chick, how was the bookstore?”

“Exhausting,” I answered wearily. I plopped down on the couch in a heap of books and thin limbs.

“I warned you not to do too much, too fast,” she said. “I know it’s time for you to start school but I want you to take it slow. You’re not used to the craziness that is college.”

“I know, but I’m ready,” I answered. “I’m sick of living like an invalid. I’ve been living with you for a year, watching you go through this and wishing I could be a part of it. I need this, Gill. More than you know.”

She reached out and hugged me, squeezing me tightly in her arms.

“Not more than I know,” she whispered. “I know exactly how ready you are for this, Paige. I just don’t want you to overdo it is all. Take it a little slow.”

I hugged her back, knowing she was right. More than anything, I wanted the normal life the fire had ripped from me. My eyes glazed over as past memories overtook me.

“They’d be proud of you, you know,” Gillian said softly.

I looked at her, startled. She must have been reading my mind.

“You think so?” I asked her.

“I know so,” she answered. “Your parents would want you to live, Paige, and live well. Your brother would want to see you succeeding, killing it out there.”

I nodded. What would my life look like now if that damn fire had never happened? It was a thought that repeated itself in my mind every single day. But it didn’t help move me forward. My therapist told me that. Remembering them was good. What-ifs weren’t.

Because the fire had happened. And they were gone. But I was still here, and I was actually starting college in a few days. The thought sent excited tingles of nerves throughout my body. My mind wandered to the blue-eyed helper from the bookstore, and those tingles intensified.

Two

Clay

The party raged around me. I sat on the couch, observing rather than participating tonight.

A gorgeous, curvy blond with a frightening shock of darkness on the underside of her hair found herself a seat on my lap. She straddled my legs, facing me. It gave me a nice big view of the lacy panties she was wearing beneath her short dress. Subtle.

“Where’s my party boy tonight?” she pouted. “You’re no fun at all.”

I placed my hands on her waist and squeezed, removing her from my lap and depositing her on the couch beside me. I ignored her squeal of protest.

“I’m not your party boy,” I answered. “I’ve got things on my mind tonight.”

“Well, what can I do to help you get me on your mind, and on other things?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

Her frown deepened. I shook my head and dragged myself off the couch to grab another cup of beer from the keg in the corner.

“Dude!” my roommate, Drew, slung a lanky arm around my neck and squeezed. “It’s crazy in here tonight!”

“Crazy,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. Drew, Rob, and I had been doing the same back-to-school bash for the past three years. Senior year wasn’t going to be any different. We’d find any excuse to throw a party and charge five bucks at the door.

“So take your pick,” Drew slurred.

“Of what?” I really wasn’t in the mood for this shit tonight.

“Um, dude,” Drew answered. “Blonde, redhead, or brunette? Or you could even go exotic. It’s a tough choice, I know, but you gotta make it.” He slapped me hard on the back, and I almost sprayed an arc of beer onto the well-worn carpet.

I grabbed his hand and jerked it from my shoulder. “Not tonight.”

I walked back to the couch where, luckily, the redhead was gone. I sat down and propped my feet up on the coffee table. I don’t know why we bothered to keep adding a coffee table to this room. During our parties, someone eventually fell on top of it and broke it. Then we had to shop the garage sales and Craigslist for a new one.

I knew why I was in such a black mood tonight. The girl from the bookstore. I usually never thought about a girl longer than it took to get her out of my bed the next day.

But I couldn’t get this one out of my mind.

Even during one of our Friday-night ragers, I was thinking about her.

I hadn’t even gotten her name. But she went to school here, so I hoped I’d see her again.

Ugh, what was wrong with me? I never hoped I’d see a girl again! I usually hoped exactly the opposite.

Our old plaid couch sagged next to me. My other roommate, Rob, sat down and sprawled out. He was clearly more sober than Drew, which was usually the case.

“What’s up, man?” he asked.

“Just not feeling it tonight, dude,” I answered.

“Clay Forbes, not feeling a party? I ask again—what’s up?”

I considered telling him. But I was making a big deal about nothing. I’d probably wake up tomorrow and forget all about the bookstore mystery girl.

And her short-but-sleek dark brown hair that hung in her eyes a little when she looked at me And her creamy skin that seemed untouched by the blazing August sun that the rest of the girls tried so hard to scorch themselves with.

And her perfect, full lips that I’d had a hard time keeping my eyes off of.

I shook my head vigorously.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I told Rob.

He eyed me strangely. “Okay dude. I know your fine, and this ain’t it.” He ran a hand over his nearly bald head. His chocolate brown forehead was gleaming from the heat in the room. Chicks dug Rob’s bald head. They liked to run their hands all over it.

He patted my shoulder and stood up, wandering off toward the keg.

I shook my head as he went. Rob was always sort of a loner, even though half the girls, if not three quarters, wanted to bang his lights out. A star soccer player on this campus could get an insane amount of quick lays.

I shook my head again, downed my entire red solo cup of beer, and went to grab another.

Paige

“What are you doing?”

I glanced up, surprised by the scathing tone in Gillian’s voice.

“I’m reading my Psych book. Why?”

“Because, Paige, it’s Saturday night! You can’t stay on the couch reading your Psych book! You’re in college! You have to live a little!”

I shrugged. “This is living, Gill. After what I’ve been through, this is living.” I resumed thumbing through my textbook, hoping she’d start getting ready again and forget about me. I pressed myself further into the couch to blend in.

She marched over and snatched the book out of my hands.

“Gillian!”

“You’re not doing this tonight, Paige. Classes start on Monday. You can crack this book open then. That’s when I’m going to open mine. But tonight, you’re coming out with me.”

She nodded her head emphatically and her chestnut locks waved at me.

I sighed. When Gillian was this determined, I couldn’t argue with her. “What should I wear?”

A satisfied smile spread across her lips. “Something short and tight, chick.”

I walked off to my room and opened my closet, staring dejectedly at the row of clothes hanging with tags still attached. Gillian took me shopping this summer for “going-out clothes,” even though it was ridiculous to have an entire wardrobe of clothes worn only at night.

I selected a sparkly tank that dipped low in the front and a denim mini. I had to summon the courage to buy the top. I usually chose clothes that hid my scars, but Gillian convinced me I didn’t need to do that any more. After months of skin graft surgery, my damaged skin was still visible, but nowhere near the angry, shiny mess it had been after the fire. The puckered skin covering the left side of my face was the one I was most self-conscious about.

“That’s perfect. Why hide those perky boobs of yours? God gave ‘em to you; you need to flaunt those babies.” Gillian nodded in approval of my outfit as she entered my room.

I stared into my full-length mirror, my brow furrowing. Since the fire, I didn’t look at myself the same way I used to. My body was a source of pain and embarrassment now. I didn’t want to show it off.

I was going out tonight to make Gillian happy, and it was going to be an early night for me. I couldn’t think of anything that could possibly make me want to stay at this party.

Three

Paige

“Where are we?” I looked around the large apartment complex, biting my lip. I shook my head, allowing my hair to fall over the left side of my face.

“The apartment of some guys I know. They’re seniors, but they’re really nice. They’re also soccer players, and they have crazy parties almost every weekend. This is the perfect place for you to just let loose a little, and have some fun for a change.”

I doubted this, but we were here and we were going in and I already knew I couldn’t argue with Gillian.

The booming music greeted me before we opened the door, pulsating into my veins and melding with the rapid rhythm of my heartbeat. The party was clearly in full swing, and I was nervous to be stepping into an apartment full of people I didn’t know. Drunk, sweaty, partying people I didn’t know. Gillian opened the front door, which was on the second floor of a student-only complex. Most of the complexes in our college town were filled with off-campus college students.

The dimly lit living room was full of colorful globe lamps lining the bar beyond. People stood wall-to-wall in the nearly empty room. A couch sat off to one side and the entertainment area that housed a TV atop a wooden cabinet. Beyond the bar into the kitchen, more people stood around in groups holding red solo cups filled with what I assumed was beer or punch.

I turned around to walk right back out the door.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gillian hissed in my ear, grabbing the back of my shirt. “This is good for you, Paige. We don’t have to stay for hours. Just hang out with me for a bit, and if you hate it, we’ll leave.”

She softened her voice. “Please?”

I nodded as her eyes roved the room. “Who are you looking for?”

“We’re meeting some of my friends from the fashion department here. I thought it would be good for you to get a head start meeting some new faces before classes start on Monday.”

That was a good idea. Since Gillian was starting her sophomore year and I was only going to be a freshman, she had a leg-up on me in the social department. Once again, the realization hit me that the fire had placed roadblocks in the path of my life. The differences flashed like a neon sign in my head. I was different than everyone else.

Gillian squealed and pulled me to the tiny kitchen, where three girls were standing wearing outfits with lots of sparkles, swoops, and ties. We’d found the fashionistas from Gillian’s classes.

“Hey girls!” Gillian had to shout to be heard over the music. “This is my best friend and roommate I told you about. She’s starting her freshman year, remember?”

They smiled at me and nodded. “Paige, this is Kelly, Maven, and Tima. Us fashion girls stick together.”

I smiled at each of the girls and gazed out into the living room. I was out of place and nervous anxiety built up in my stomach, making it tight and itchy. I might never get used to this.

Tima leaned over and spoke into my ear. “You look like this isn’t your scene. Do you want a drink? It always helps me loosen up a little.”

I liked her instantly. Her voice was warm and friendly, cinnamon buns on a winter morning. The wild curls in her dark hair tickled my ear when she talked to me.

I smiled at her gratefully. “Definitely not used to all of this. A drink would be good, I think. What do they have?”

“Beer and punch,” she answered. She wrinkled her nose. “The punch gets scooped out of a giant trash can. You might want to go with a beer.”

I laughed. This was what the college life was like. “A trash can, really? A beer then.”

She reached into a cooler, grabbed a sweaty can, and handed it to me. “Here you go. How do you like Rutherford so far?”