She Laughs in Pink (Sheridan Hall #1) (7 page)

Winston is the first one into the hallway. “Chase, come on man. Give it a rest.”

Frank’s next. “Jesus, Chase. Cut it out. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

I shout through the door. “Hear that, Juliet? You’re driving the neighbors crazy. Let me in.” I keep pounding.

Megan walks down the hall and glares at me. “Sorry,” I whisper, but continue banging.

She stands next to me. “Juliet? It’s Megan.” Her voice shakes as she tries to yell over the pounding of my fists. “Please let Chase in. He looks really sorry for whatever he did.”

No response. Megan looks at me, and I shrug. If Juliet’s going to open the door for anyone, it’s not going to be Meg—the girl she’s competing with for Ben’s attention.

I get back to banging until Rocco flies out of room four and beelines for me. I flinch, and Megan scurries back to her room.

“Anderson!” Rocco points his finger at the door, his face inches from it as he yells. “Open the fucking door or I’m going to beat the crap out of Cooper. I’m not kidding.”

I’m more than a little scared that she still won’t open the door and that Rocco actually
will
hit me. But I don’t let up even though my fists throb and I’m under threat of getting my ass kicked. Rocco glares at me, and I shrug, whispering, “Sorry, dude.” When Rocco yells again, I hear the click of the lock.

Rocco backs away, veins popping out of his huge neck. “You two pull this shit again and I’ll rip down this door.” I hold my hands up in surrender. Dude’s wound too tightly.

I push open the door but contemplate whether it’s safer in the hallway. Juliet sits at her desk, studying, with her earbuds in. I’d heard about the mysterious Pooja and her moving men, so I check out the other side of the room before sitting on Juliet’s bed. She’s bent over a notebook ignoring me. I love the way her hair lays over her back.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She acts like she can’t hear me. I tug her earbuds out but she doesn’t turn around. “Look, I’m not going to apologize. Ben asked me to hang with you yesterday because he thought you were upset. He didn’t realize I was planning on hanging with you anyway.”

“Whatever.”
She speaks.
I’ll take any response at this point.

I tap her shoulder and say, “Turn around,” but she still doesn’t move. I’d like to see her face, so I blurt, “I’m sorry.”

“I thought you weren’t going to apologize.”

I sigh. “Turn around.”

Juliet ignores me again, so I try the honesty approach. “When Ben asked me to check on you, I didn’t want to tell him I’d planned on hunting you down already. I thought he’d get jealous and you’d get weird.”

“I don’t get
weird
” she says.

I hold myself back from yelling,
turn around dammit!
“You absolutely get weird, especially when it comes to Ben. I had a nice time with you yesterday. I
like
you.”

Like
isn’t the right word, but I’m not sure what is. I want to tell her it’s okay if she likes me back. It’s okay I touched her and she took a step into my world. But I can’t take that step. “I
like
you, like you,” I end up muttering.

She shakes her head. “Now
you’re
getting weird.”

“I don’t get weird,” I tease.

With that, she finally turns toward me. As we sit face-to-face, my insides twist when I realize she’s right. I’m weird. I’m a guy, for Christ’s sake. I have a history a mile long with girls and for some reason this one—this gorgeous, snotty, obsessed-with-my-roommate brunette—has my insides tied in knots.

“Don’t think that just because you’re looking at me with those stupid purple eyes I believe you.” She turns away and her voice lowers, but I think she says, “It’s easier if I don’t.”

Stupid purple eyes?
“Did you say it’s easier if you don’t? Why?”

She huffs. “Just go away, Chase. I can’t deal with you.”

“Because…?” I won’t let her off the hook.

She whirls around and glares. “Because I’m studying and listening to music, and because I hate you but you’re impossibly cute.”
Cute?
Score two for Team Chase. “And you know how I feel about Ben.”

I ignore the Ben talk and focus on the positives. “You said I’m cute.”

“You must know you’re cute.” She runs her hand down her hair, and I have to touch it. I reach out and tug a strand. “Ouch!”

I don’t apologize. “Cute makes me sound like a puppy dog. I prefer sexy.” I’m teasing, of course. I’ll take cute any day from Juliet.

“You’re cute like a big, dumb puppy dog who is so pathetic he can’t help but be loved.” When she smiles, the pink swirls around her, like it did the day before in my apartment. This time, I try to focus on it before it disappears. It’s sort of like a cloud that’s only half there. It’s visible, but transparent. Smaller particles of color are clinging together for movement.
Can she see it? Am I the only one?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because you’re in a sea of pink.
I shift and look to Pooja’s side of the room.
Topic change time.
“Have you gone through your roommate’s stuff yet?”

“Jeez, Chase, no!”

“You must have peeked a little.”

She smiles and glances at Pooja’s closet. “Maybe I accidentally opened the closet and accidentally saw she and I are the same size. Clothes and shoes.”

“Informative accidents. She’s tall like you?”

“I guess so.” She’s back to herself as she talks clothes. “She has a great wardrobe. Fancy stuff too, like saris and silk.”

“I bet you’d look incredible in a sari. Maybe you can borrow some of it.”

“Maybe.”

“Am I forgiven for doing nothing wrong?” I hate that she hasn’t talked to me all day. “If you don’t forgive me, I’m going to bang on your door all night and Rocco’s going to beat me up and my blood will be on your hands.”

“Okay, okay, you big, pathetic puppy. You’re forgiven.” She waves at me. “Now shoo.”

I smile. “You’re not going to pet me?”

“No, you freak. But, Chase…” Her brow furrows as she holds my gaze. “Will you promise to be honest with me? After all the shit with Ben, I just need someone to be straight with me.” When I try to interrupt her, she holds up her hand. “If you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s fine. Just tell me. Don’t babysit for Ben because he feels guilty—”

“I thought we established that I
did
want to hang out with you because I like you. I want to hang out with you every friggin’ day. You are by far the coolest chick I’ve met here.” She’s by far the coolest chick I’ve met anywhere. Just my luck she’s obsessed with my roommate.

Her pink pout turns to a grin. “Even cooler than Megan?”

“Way.”

“Tina?”

“Well…” I tease, squinting as if I’m undecided. She glares at me, and I blurt, “Yeah, way cooler than Tina.”

When she giggles pink again, it reminds me of the sketch in my back pocket. I pull it out and hand it to her.

She scans the page, and her eyes get big. “What’s this?”

“You. I made it yesterday.” I’d drawn her last night, with her on her toes and her arms stretched overhead in one of the ballet poses.

Her brown eyes dance over the picture. I’d tried to capture the joy on her face, not just her perfect body. Drawing her had turned me on, but seeing her study the drawing turns me on even more. To be honest, being in her presence turns me on.
I’m the most pathetic guy in the world.

She flips the picture toward me and points at it. “It’s freaking awesome.”

“
You’re
awesome. Did you contact the studio for classes?”

“I did but I can’t afford it. I’ll have to stay local.” She sighs. “Sucks.”

I know I won’t let that happen. I’ll make a call to Gram’s accountant, figure out how to tap my trust fund, and have an anonymous scholarship available for Juliet from Miss Stephanie.
Done.

“Something will work out. You’ll be dancing in no time.”

She smiles. “Damn straight. Even if I’m dancing up and down the hallway.”

“That would be a sight.” I ruffle her hair because I want to touch her again, and then lift her hand to kiss it. “I’m sorry you were upset with me.”

“I’m sorry Rocco almost beat you up. You’re persistent.” She glances down my body.

“Sometimes.” Her gaze lingers around my shoulders then returns to my face. “See something you like, gorgeous?”

“Egomaniac much?” She chuckles and points to the door. “Out.”

“Later?” There’s no hiding the twinge of hope in my voice.

“Later.”

As I walk down the hallway, I realize I may be turning into a chick. I just apologized for who knows what, told this strange new girl that she’s awesome, and now I’m going to finance her dance education. I’m a big, dumb bag of feelings around my roommate’s hot admirer.

So much for my NLP and its no-women clause. Turns out, Juliet Anderson is way more fun.

Chapter Seven

Juliet

Miss Stephanie calls me on Thursday to advise me of a scholarship that hasn’t been claimed. I could take as many classes as I’d like at her studio. After thanking her profusely and checking the class schedule, I rush around my room, put on my leotard and tights under a skirt and cardigan, and try to make it to the next advanced class.

I run down the hall, my ballet bag swinging behind me, and knock on Chase’s door.

Ben answers. “Hey, Jules! What’s up? You look like you’re going to ballet.”

Although I’m in a hurry, seeing Ben automatically slows my pulse. “I am. I need to ask Chase how to get there. Is he around?” Ben’s jeans are tight around his thighs and his big arms strain against the seams of his polo shirt. I get warm thinking of how those arms wrap me up when I need them.

“No, he’s not back yet. Do you want me to take you?”

Amazingly, I don’t. “Not necessary. Thanks, though.”

He holds my arm as I try to walk away. “Hey, do you want to hang out later?” His brown eyes search mine. Something’s up with him, but I don’t have the time to talk.

Hang out?
“Um, maybe? I have to get on the train. I’ll text Chase and call you later.” I break his grasp and dart down the hallway.

Ben calls after me. “Jules?”

“Yep?” I spin around impatiently and adjust my ballet bag on my shoulder, inching toward the exit.

“You aren’t mad at me, are you? About earlier in the week?”

I am. I was. I hate him. I love him. But now, at this moment, I’m just sort of…whatever. “I can’t really talk now—”

“I know. You have to go. It’s just…I’ve barely seen you since Monday night.”

Guys are so confusing
. “We’ll hang out soon, okay? How about tomorrow? Dinner?” I continue to creep toward the exit.

“That sounds good. I’ll text you.”

I run out of Sheridan, through campus, and to the train while texting Chase. He says he’s in the city and offers to meet me at the station.

On the other side of the river, I see him first but almost don’t recognize him. Dressed in a grey suit and a white dress shirt open at the collar, he looks, well, awesome. He’s Movie Star Chase, leaning against a wall near the giant map focused on his phone. In contrast to the dark, dirty train station, he’s a shining beacon of light. It’s odd he’s so dressed up, but I appreciate the image.

His face lights up when he sees me. “Hey, gorgeous.” I remember his, “I like you” speech and grin. I beeline for him and he touches my hair, which is rolled on top of my head in a bun. “You look so cute.”

I smile and scrunch my nose. “My ballet look. In an hour, I hope to be a ball of sweat and tears. You, though…wow. What’s going on? Got a prom to go to?”

He shakes his head and scoffs. “Ha. No. Art gallery stuff. We’re hosting a new artist, so I thought I’d check out how it works. My first big boy gig. You’ve inspired me to try the grown-up thing.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you away…I had no idea.”

He takes my hand. “It’s okay. I wanted to see you. Let’s go.”

Chase leads me into the city. Even at sunset on a weekday, people swarm downtown. Chase expertly maneuvers through the streets and gets me to the dance studio in minutes. He stops at the door and touches my bun again. “Enjoy your first class. When you’re done, come across the street and I’ll show you around.”

I stand on my toes and tousle his hair. “Have fun being a grown-up.” He waves without turning around, and I watch him walk across the street. From the back, in his suit, I can’t help but think he looks the part of the grown-up—all man, no boy.

One step into the dance studio, and I feel like I’ve come home. Miss Stephanie pays extra attention to me, adjusting my positions, testing my knowledge and skill level. Even though it’s my first class, I’m light as a feather. The weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. The music, the company, the movements settle me, mentally and physically. As I do
barre
work, I look out the window down to the lights of Chase’s art gallery. I watch people enter and exit, wondering what he’s doing in there.

After class, I text Chase that I’m too gross to step foot in the gallery. I assure him I’m fine getting back to the dorm, and I’ll catch up with him later. He texts me back instantly.

Let me know when you’re on the train
.

I smile at my phone.
He’s worried about me.

On weeknights, after a certain hour I’ve yet to figure out, the trains run only on the half hour. As I hop down the stairs to the tracks, I watch my train speed away from the empty station.
Dammit.
Alone on the platform, I wonder if I should be worried. I wrap my pink cardigan tight around my waist and drop my ballet bag at my feet. I text Chase again.

Just missed train. Ugh.

Again, his response is instant.

On my way.

I text him back.

No! Stay at your grown-up stuff. I’m okay
.

I ignore the solitude of the train station and think about ballet. I pace up and down the platform with endless energy, physically sore but mentally high from class. I hum the music and think through the choreography I’d learned.

Miss Stephanie is a genius. With some cyberstalking, I’d learned of her past with the New York City Ballet and her award-winning performances. I can’t believe she’s my teacher. I perform a little
jete
over my ballet bag and soon I’m dancing.

I move around like an idiot and don’t look up until I hear a throat clear.

Chase.

He smiles and, like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn to him. I stretch my arms and arch my back, looking up at the disgusting ceiling. When I reach him and our bodies touch, I’m dancing a
pas de deux
with my Train Boy. I can’t help myself from saying, “I feel amazing!”

He laughs, grabs me around the waist, and lifts me up. I wrap my arms around him. His muscles tighten under my grasp as he spins us in a circle. I sigh and pull away to look at his beautiful face. His eyes are locked on mine, but it’s his lips I can’t resist—they draw me in. With everything in me, I want to kiss them. We both stop laughing and he puts me down, but neither of us make a move to let go as we stand eye-to-eye.

I’m looking at Chase, wanting him, but I can’t help whispering, “I love Ben.”

Chase doesn’t release his hold on me. His hands on my waist heat me up like fire. “I know. I have a New Life Plan.”

“Huh?”

“Long story.”

It sounds complicated, and I’m sort of interested but my body overheats from his closeness, and I don’t think I can follow along anyway. I should back away, but can’t. My body trumps my brain. Being near him and seeing the way he looks into my eyes penetrates me to my core. When he touches my face and strokes my cheek, I think I may pass out. My breath quickens, matching the beat of my heart.

Chase rubs his thumb along my cheekbone, his fingers tickle my neck, and he leans in. I think he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He presses his forehead against mine and shuts his eyes. I grab his waist and pull him closer.

He sighs, and I hook my thumbs together behind him, not willing to let him pull away. When he wraps his arms around me the same way, I know he won’t let me anyway.

“Can I kiss you, Juliet?” His voice is a heavy whisper.

I can’t think straight and don’t care. I repeat my mantra of the past four years. “I love Ben.” Somewhere inside of me, which isn’t accessible now because Chase is in my arms, it’s true. I do love Ben. Even though, for the life of me, I can’t remember why.

He tilts his head and he breathes into my ear. “That doesn’t answer the question.” His breath heats my neck, and I need his lips to touch me—somewhere, anywhere. “Please?” he moans against my throat. It’s his word, but I feel it, too.

He presses his lips onto my neck and I shudder, chills running up and down my body. He trails light little kisses up to my earlobe. I want to scream.

I want more. I move my head so our lips are close, but Chase still won’t kiss them. He dips back down under my chin, nipping at my throat, driving me crazy. He moves his hands to my hair and tugs my tightly wound bun until it falls into a mess around my shoulders.

I still need more. I move my hands up his shirt to his neck and push his head away from me. I open my eyes and hold his face as I lean in and devour his lips, hoping that kissing him will satisfy this need in me, hoping it will settle my racing heartbeat.

Instead, it does the opposite.

The kiss blows me away, scrambling my mind and pulsating through me, head to toe. I kiss his bottom lip, then his top, opening my mouth to taste him. He groans as his tongue teases mine. His hands fly down my body as if we’re on the clock and have only a few seconds to touch each other.

He moves with me, pressing me against a wall, leaning his body into mine. I pull his hair, grab his shoulders, groping whatever is within reach. Outside voices invade our space as people make their way onto the platform, and I couldn’t care less—a bomb could go off but there’s no way I’d stop kissing Chase. Not here, not now.

I’d spent my high school years teasing and flirting and avoiding all boys except Ben. I’d been kissed before but never like this. I thought when it happened again, it would be Ben. I spent years waiting—waiting for the right time, the right place, my right boy. But as I stand on shaky legs while Chase’s hands run over my chest, down my back, and over my hips, I realize I’m a total idiot for missing out on what’s wrong. Because making out at the train station in my sweaty dancewear with this wrong beautiful boy with his mysterious New Life Plan is absolutely amazing.

Chase

Holy fuck
. I can’t stop kissing Juliet. Color explodes in my mind, red mostly, but also oranges, yellows, and of course pinks as she moves in my hands, in my arms, on my lips. I’m not sure if I’m grateful or disappointed we’re in public.
Probably grateful
. She turns me so my back is against the dirty wall and her hips push into mine.
Nope. Disappointed. Definitely disappointed.

The train’s brakes squeal as it approaches the platform, and I pull away, breathless. “We should get back.” We’d already missed one train, not that I care. Juliet doesn’t seem to care either. She looks at me through half-closed eyes and grins. “Jesus, Juliet.” I kiss her again because I have to when she looks at me like that. It’s like a sexy smirk that strikes me right in the groin.

Without focusing too hard on Juliet, I grab her ballet bag in one hand, her hand in the other, and lead her onto the train. She guides me to the back. I throw her bag on an empty seat and sit down.

Juliet doesn’t sit next to me. Instead, as the train begins to pull away, she straddles me.
Holy. Fuck.
I lean back against the seat and try to play it cool, but I can’t resist touching her thighs as they stretch over my mine. I run my hands over them as I wait for her next move.

The sexy smirk she flashes me is almost as powerful as the touch of her body. The image of her on my lap in the dim light of the train with her hair tangled and loose over her pink sweater and her lips puffy imprints itself on my brain.
I’ll have to paint it
. I return her smile and push her hair over her shoulders, then pull her close and kiss her again. “If this is what dance class does for you, I’ll gladly escort you home every time,” I half-joke.

She laughs her cotton candy cloud.
Pink
. “I’m a sweaty mess.” Her lips graze mine as she talks.

“You’re fucking incredible,” I whisper between kisses. As the train reaches the NJU stop, neither of us makes a move to get up. I’m afraid if I get off the train—this magic train where I get to kiss Juliet—I’ll never get to touch her again. NJU means Ben. The train means her soft skin under my fingertips, her hair tickling my neck, her smile directed at me. The train means her pink clouds of laughter, her lips and sighs, the little pants as her chest rises and falls against mine.

The lights dim and the train moves again, away from NJU and Ben into God-knows-where Jersey. It doesn’t matter to me as my hands wrap in Juliet’s hair to smooth it down her back. I’m hard as a rock and, if I were with any girl besides Juliet, I’d be digging the condom out of my wallet and searching for a suitable place to finish what we’d started. But with Juliet, I let her take the lead. I want her to want me. For some reason, that matters with her. As she kisses me, my heart pounds and my body tightens, but I stay in control, committing every touch of her body to memory so I can replay it later.

She’s in my lap. She’s all over me, I’m touching her, and she’s amazing, then suddenly, she stops. She grins, but twists off and sits in the seat next to me. The space between us, only an inch or so, seems more like a mile with the warmth of her body absent. Her pink cloud turns grey.

She leans her head on my shoulder and grabs my hand, playing with my fingers. I hear her sigh, and she says the one word I always expect to hear from her: “Ben.”