Saying Goodbye, Part One (Passports and Promises Book 1) (2 page)

The shadows from the streetlights made it hard to see him clearly, but I made out a square jaw, dark eyes, and silky hair that hung past his ears and touched the collar of his shirt. Although we’d reached an area closer to the main part of campus, Dylan still hadn’t let go of my hand. It felt kind of nice.

“I wasn’t here last year. I went…away.” He paused, a funny catch in his voice.

“Were you in Spain?” A few of the Sigs had gone for spring semester, but I hadn’t talked with any of them yet.

A whisper of a smile played on his lips. “No. I wasn’t in Spain.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy. I’m going to Japan next semester for a study abroad, and I was just curious. I’m leaving in January.”

This caused him to stop walking and look down at me, his eyes searching my face. I was tall for a girl, but Dylan towered over me. His body fit his height, though. He wasn’t too thin or too bulky. Like the porridge in “Goldilocks,” he was just right. And yummy.

“Japan? Why Japan?”

I tucked my hair behind my ear self-consciously. “It’s my major. I’m studying Japanese.”

I never knew how people would react when I told them what I planned to do with my life. I didn’t “look” like a language major. I looked like someone who would eventually be a secretary or a stay-at-home mom or a kindergarten teacher.

Oddly enough, out of all the guys I’d dated, only Rob realized I had a brain beneath all the fluff. Of course, Rob had the IQ of a doorknob, so it wasn’t really a good example, but other people looked at me and saw boobs and a pretty face. Nothing else. Even my high school guidance counselor had tried to convince me to study something more practical. Of course, I didn’t listen.

Dylan handled it perfectly. “You’re an interesting girl, Sam.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic. “Not really, but I’d like to
become
interesting. Someday. I want to be a translator, like at the UN, and see the world. I’m applying to the Translation Studies Program at the Institute of Applied Linguistics here on campus, but I don’t know if I’ll get a spot. It’s super competitive, and…I just don’t know.”

“If you really want it, you’re going to do it.”

“How do you know that?”

“There are basically two kinds of people. Those who just sort of fall into things, and those who set a course of action and make things happen.” He gave me a long, steady look. “You make things happen. I can tell. I’m observant about things like that.”

I wondered at first if he’d meant it as a joke, but he seemed sincere, something completely new for me. I couldn’t tell if he was strange or adorable. Maybe he was a combo of the two.

He held onto my hand until we reached the front of my sorority house, a giant, red brick Georgian mansion with white painted accents. Theta was the oldest sorority on campus, and the most popular. We stood outside on the stone walkway, the wind rustling our hair. Dylan stared at me, his gaze hypnotic as his dark eyes searched my face.

“I’m Dylan Hunter.”

He held out his hand to me, like we met for the first time and hadn’t just walked half the campus together. I shook his extended hand, feeling an unexpected tingle of lust curl deep inside my belly.

“Well, that is oddly formal,” I said. “Hi. I’m Samantha Barnes.”

“As in the bookstore?”

I had to smile. In typical Sig fashion, he assumed I came from money. Big money. “Not exactly, although I do love books.”

He touched my cheek. “You have dimples.”

“You’re right. You
are
observant.”

“And brown eyes.”

“Yes. Two of them. They came as a set.”

He chuckled, stepping away from me. “See you soon, Samantha Barnes.”

“You just might.”

He watched as I walked into the Theta house. After I closed the door, I pushed the curtain aside and peeked out the window. I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to see if he was still there.

He stood exactly where I’d left him, illuminated by a streetlight, with his hands shoved deep into his khakis and a slow, sexy smile spreading across his face. I let the curtains drop, but not before I smiled back at him.

Bethany sat on a couch in the front room. Gabriela slept next to her, curled up in a little ball. I grabbed a blanket and covered Gabriela before handing Bethany her purse.

“Thanks, Sam. I’m glad we left when we did. She threw up twice on the way home. I managed to get some water and ibuprofen into her before she passed out.”

I ruffled Gabriela’s hair. “Close call tonight. If we hadn’t found her…”

Bethany nodded. “Zach McGaffrey is a pig. I don’t understand what she sees in him.”

“He’s disgusting.” 

“Agreed, but, eventually, she’s going to have to learn to take care of herself. I don’t think this is the last we’ll hear from Zach. You made it personal tonight. If the raid hadn’t happened…” Bethany sighed. “How did you get here, by the way? You didn’t walk by yourself, did you?”

I sank down next to her on the couch. With Gabriela curled up on most of it, there wasn’t much room, but I managed to wiggle in.

“Dylan Hunter walked me home.”

Bethany frowned. “That name sounds familiar.”

“Tall, dark, handsome, funny. A little weird.”

“Uh-oh.”

I put my head on her shoulder. “He’s friends with Max.”

“That could be complicated. Why don’t we know him?”

“He wasn’t here last year.” I frowned. He’d never answered my question about that. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving soon. The last thing I need is a boyfriend right now. The last thing I
want
is a boyfriend right now. But a little farewell fornication might be fun.”

“Famous last words.” Bethany yawned. “And nearly an alliteration. Can I crash on your floor? I’m too tired to go home.”

“Of course.”

We stuck a pillow under Gabriela’s head and went upstairs. I pulled out a futon mattress I kept tucked under my bed, and gave her a blanket and a pillow.

“You’re a good friend, Sam, but you can’t take care of everyone all the time.”

I pulled on my jammies and slid into my bed. “I’m just trying to take care of myself at this point.”

I turned off the light, my mind filled with images as I tried to remember the details of Dylan’s face. I still felt his hand in mine; strong, warm, and solid, but most of what I’d seen of his face had been in shadows. I wondered what he’d look like in the sunshine.

Sighing, I pulled my comforter up to my chin. I barely knew him, but I knew one thing for sure. I shouldn’t get involved with him, but I never listened to my own good advice.

Dylan Hunter was going to be Mistake Number Four.

CHAPTER TWO

“
K
a, ki, ku, ke, ko. Ra, ri, ru, re, ro.”

I went through my drills in Japanese class, reading the hiragana characters on the board as Dr. Eshima pointed to them. I’d always had a knack for languages. I’d studied French and Latin in high school, but wanted a challenge in college. Japanese was definitely a challenge. With two phonetic written alphabets,
hiragana
and
katakana
, and thousands of Chinese characters called
kanji
as the basis for their writing system, learning to read and write had proved much tougher than I’d expected.

I’d wanted to be a translator my whole life, and chose this school based entirely on the special certification program here, one of the most competitive in the country. If I could get in, I’d start at the school’s Institute for Applied Linguistics my junior year. After three years in the accelerated program, I’d have my master’s degree and my choice of jobs all over the world. The only problem was passing the test. In order to get in, I had to prove proficiency in both spoken and written Japanese. I aced the oral part, but never even got close to passing the written portion. If I couldn’t do it by spring, I was screwed.

I spent hours every day poring over characters and memorizing words. The phonetic alphabets were no problem. Kanji was killing me. I decided to do the semester abroad at Ritsumeikan University in Kyoto as a way to make everything come together. Otherwise, I may have wasted two years of my life.

Dr. Eshima, definitely the coolest Japanese teacher I’d ever had with his hipster clothes and spikey hair, made me stay after class. “Sami-san. You can’t be so hard on yourself. If you relax, it will come to you.”

Japanese words almost always ended with a vowel, so I was officially
Sami-san
in class. Samantha proved nearly impossible.
Sa-man-tu-ra
. The other option had been
Samu
, which sounded a bit too much like Shamu for my liking.

“There are just so many kanji. There’s no way I can learn them all.”

He laughed. “I’m Japanese and I don’t know them all.”

“I’m never going to pass the test.” I wanted to pound my head against the desk in frustration. “What’s the point?”

“The point is to try.
Ganbatte kudasai.
”

Ganbatte
was one of my favorite Japanese words. It sort of combined “Have courage”, “Don’t give up”, and “Keep trying” with “Go for it.” Japanese was efficient, using one perfect word instead of many, but spoken Japanese wasn’t the problem. Written Japanese gave me nightmares.

I shoved my books into my backpack, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “I
am
trying. Really.”

He handed me a page of homework that had slipped out of my hands and onto the floor. “I know, but you are trying to know everything all at once. Learn enough to get by in Japan next semester, then enough to read a book or a newspaper. You love Lady Murasaki. Imagine reading her in Japanese. Sometimes the joy should come from the process and not the result.”

Right. Except for the fact I had to take the test for the translation program in April or all my carefully laid plans and dreams would be flushed down the toilet.

I couldn’t tell him that, though. I just gave him a tight little smile and a bow. 

“
Arigato gozaimasu, Eshima-sensei.”

I left the room, my head down and my thoughts full of the intricate strokes and curves that made up the Japanese writing system. It was hopeless. I was doomed.

I walked straight into Dylan Hunter. He’d been standing right outside the door to my classroom.

“What are you doing here?”

I’d wanted to see him in the sunshine, and I’d gotten my wish. He was even better looking than I remembered, with his black hair, dark eyes, and sexy crooked smile.

“This was the only Japanese III class being offered this semester. I took a chance.”

I hesitated, not sure if this was nice or a little creepy. “Oh.”

He lifted a bag he held in his hand. “I brought lunch.”

His face, so full earnestness, dispelled any worry I had about his creepiness factor. We sat outside and ate the lunch he’d prepared for us; peanut butter sandwiches, apples, and brownies.

“I bought the brownies, but I made the sandwiches myself.”

He handed me a soda. The September sun peeked through the leaves on the trees, warming us as we sat on a stone bench and ate. He turned and straddled the bench to face me. My cheeks got a little hot. I’d barely had time to pull my hair into a bun this morning. I wore yoga pants and a hoodie, and not a touch of makeup. The longer Dylan stared, the more uncomfortable I became.

“What?”

“Are you still with Max?”

I shook my head. “We broke up weeks ago.”

“But do you still love him?”

I decided the direct and honest approach would work best. “I never loved him and he never loved me. It ended well. We’re better as friends.”

He grinned and the effect shocked me. An odd tingling sensation rushed through my whole body. If his smile could do that to me, I had to wonder what his other parts could do. His lips. His hands. Everything else.

He leaned forward and, for just a second, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he got really close and stared into my eyes. “That’s good news, Sam.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to be mine.”

My half-eaten brownie remained clutched in my hand as I tried to formulate a coherent thought. I took a sip of soda and stared at him.

“That’s awfully direct, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “Why pretend? It’s what I want. Why shouldn’t I be honest about it?”

“You hardly know me.”

“I know enough.”

He reached for my hand, lacing my fingers with his. It reminded me of our walk home from the frat.

He let go of my hand and looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Can I see you later?”

“When?”

He gathered up our trash and tossed it into a bin. “How about dinner? Would seven work for you?”

I hesitated only a second before answering. “Yes.”

“I’ll pick you up at the Theta house. Wear a dress.”

I stood next to him, holding my books against my chest. “I’m not sure if this is a good idea...”

He touched my face, his thumb stroking my cheek. “What’s there to be unsure about?”

“You’re a nice guy, but I’m leaving in January. I’ll be in Japan for the whole semester. It would be crazy to get involved with someone right now.”

“It’s dinner, Sam. No worries. No strings. Just food.”

“Just food?”

“Just food. I’ll see you at seven.”

As he walked away, I wondered if I’d just made a huge mistake. Things with Max were more complicated than I’d let on. Although I’d told the basic truth about our relationship, I didn’t tell him we still slept together on occasion. Some may have called it
friends with benefits,
but really we were just
fuck buddies.
Not pretty or nice, but honest.

I found Gabriela and Bethany as they left the cafeteria. “Where were you?” asked Bethany. “We didn’t see you at lunch.”

“I ate with Dylan Hunter.”

Bethany’s mouth formed a little pink “O.” Gabriela looked confused. “Who is Dylan Hunter?”

“Mistake Number Four,” said Bethany.

Gabriela swung her head toward me, her brown eyes huge in her face. “You have a Mistake Number Four?”

“Not yet.”

“But she’s working on it.” Bethany gave me a knowing look, and I swatted her arm.

“When will you see him again?” asked Gabriela.

“Tonight. He’s taking me to dinner.”

“Sweet,” she said. “What are you going to wear?”

I looked at the time on my phone. “I don’t know, but I have nearly six hours to figure it out.”

Five hours and twenty-seven minutes later, I stood in front of my closet in my bra and undies, staring at the contents in a panic. I had absolutely nothing to wear on my date with Dylan. Not a single thing. I began pulling items out one by one, throwing everything onto the floor. I’d just begun to completely freak out when a knock at the door made me jump.

Bethany and Gabriela stood in my doorway, their arms heaped with clothing. Gabriela grinned when she saw the state of my room. “It looks like we got here just in time. Step aside. This is an emergency.”

Within fifteen minutes, they’d chosen an outfit for me, and had begun working on my hair. Gabriela was a hair and makeup genius.

“This isn’t an official date. It’s just food. Dinner. That’s all.” I frowned, thinking about my three Mistakes and wondering if going out with Dylan was a good idea or not. “How many guys does a girl have to sleep with before she’s considered a slut?”

Bethany looked at me in surprise. “You aren’t a slut, Sam.”

“I’m just curious. Is there a number that stands out to you?”

Gabriela thought about it. “If it’s more than five, you need two hands to count them all, and that definitely seems slutty.”

“Says the virgin.” Bethany rolled her eyes.

“And you’ve only slept with one guy, B. I’ve beaten both of you. I’m definitely on the road to Slutterdom.” I let out a sigh. “Gabs is right. Five is a good limit.”

“Give or take,” said Bethany with a snort. Then she saw the expression on my face and her eyes softened. “You’ve already hit number three. Are numbers really that important?”

“Yes, they are.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I mean it. Five is my limit. Gabriela is right.”

“So, I guess that justifies sleeping with Dylan, right?” I heard the note of gentle chiding in Bethany’s voice. I knew she was right.

By the time Dylan arrived at the house promptly at seven, I looked better than my best. My hair hung down my back in soft, shining curls, and the mini dress Bethany loaned me was elegant, expensive, and just a little sexy. The halter neckline showed off my shoulders and the short skirt and navy suede heels made my legs look a mile long. Bethany gave me a sequined shrug to match, just in case it got cold. When Dylan saw me walk down the steps, my outfit had the desired effect. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Samantha…wow.”

I ducked my head, embarrassed. He wore a suit and looked awfully delicious himself.

Bethany and Gabriela stood at the top of the steps and waved. Bethany had a worried frown on her face that puckered her forehead. Definitely the mother hen of our little trio.

“Don’t be too late,” she said. “It’s a school night.”

Dylan laughed, thinking she made a joke, but I knew she was completely serious. I gave her a very pointed look.

“Don’t wait up.”

He walked me down the tree-lined path in front of the Theta house, not taking my hand. Every so often, his elbow brushed mine, causing an electric tingle to spread across my skin. He snuck glances at me out of the corner of his eye. Finally, he shook his head, flashing me a smile.

“I can’t believe you’re going out with me.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. A new silver Volvo sat at the end of the path on the quiet street of Sorority Row. He pulled out his keys and unlocked the car, the lights flashing in the darkness. I paused.

“We’re driving somewhere?”

He opened the passenger side door. “Yes.”

I stared at him, not sure what to do. “I thought we were eating on campus.”

“I’m not taking a girl like you out for burgers and fries, Samantha.”

“Where are we going?”

He reached for my hand. “Trust me.”

I tried to ignore the voices in my head telling me this could be dangerous. I barely knew Dylan. No one knew Dylan. But Max had felt comfortable enough with him to let him walk me home. Max made lots of bad decisions, but he would never put me in danger.

I let him take my hand and help me into the car, my bare legs sliding against the cool leather interior. Dylan closed the door behind me and got into the driver’s seat, his hands large and confident as he steered the car off campus and toward the center of town. My phone buzzed in my purse as Bethany texted me already.

Are you okay?

I texted back with a smiling emoticon, mostly because I knew she’d worry if I didn’t. After what had almost happened to Gabriela, we were on high alert. The idea of me going on a date with someone I barely knew, in a car, made everyone uncomfortable.

We sailed through the small town, a quiet place dominated by the giant university. Most businesses catered specifically to college students, but others were geared to a different class of people, professors, doctors, lawyers, and people who had money. Dylan pulled up in front of the most elegant restaurant in town, Luigi’s. I reached for the door handle, but he stopped me.