Pieces of Me Page 6

  It hadn't taken much maneuvering on my part to get her to talk about him. Apparently he'd started his freshman year of college still very much in love with his high school girlfriend, who had still been a senior in high school. Apparently she had forgotten what the word fidelity meant the moment he had left for college.

  So Cole had decided to screw pretty much everything in a skirt to make him feel better. But as previously advertised by Todd, he always left them happy, and remained friends with the majority of them.

  “Cole!”

  I wince at the sound of the voice calling his name. Because I recognize that it is Beth just seconds before she joins us at the table. She runs her hand along his shoulders, across the back of his neck, with a familiarity that makes me a little sick to my stomach.

  Had she become one of the many?

  I doubt she would share the same distaste I did over the prospect. Although, to be fair, it wasn't just his varied past that was keeping me from saying yes, it was my incredibly shadowed past as well.

  And even though I had tried multiple times, in multiple ways, to move on and grab some semblance of a normal life, I hadn’t been able to.

  My kidnapping had made headline news in Oregon, and the details of the beatings and rapes I had endured during the three days I had been gone had analyzed and shared in story after story. Everyone thought they knew, thought they understood, but the reality was so much worse that I hadn’t been able to bring myself back from it. Not all the way.

  The distance was now my only hope of moving on.

  “It’s Melanie, right?” Beth says, giving me what I think she assumes is a genuine looking smile. The knowing look in her eyes, and the slight tilt of her lips lets me know that she knows Melanie is not my name.

  I’m not sure what point it is she’s trying to prove. Is this girl seriously jealous of me? The idea that she might be actually makes me smile.

  “Delaney,” I insert. “It's Delaney.” I throw a quick look to Cole before standing up. “I'll see you in class on Monday.”

  I don’t make it very far before I hear him calling my name. I don’t turn around, but keep heading towards the house with quick determined steps.

  “Delaney.”

  Cole catches up with me just before I make it into the house. Red Nail Polish Beth is still sitting at the patio table, glaring at me over Cole’s shoulder.

  Would it be childish to stick my tongue out her?

  Probably.

  “You should get back to Beth.”

  Cole glances over his shoulder, and the glare instantly washes off Beth's face as she sends him a blinding smile.

  “I don't think she's going anywhere.”

  “I need to go find Grace,” I tell him. “I told her I wouldn't be able to stay long. I have a paper I need to work on.” I force myself to meet his eyes. “You do too since it’s for our history class.”

  He shrugs his muscular shoulders. “I'll get to it. You should stay for a while; you can start the paper tomorrow. Come back and hang out some more. Give me the opportunity to change your mind on the date thing, you know, before I actually ask you out.”

  I hesitate, just for a second, before I shake my head, crossing my arms under my chest. Amazingly enough, my first instinct isn’t to say no. I almost tell him to take his best shot at trying to convince me.

  Instead I make myself say, “You should get back to Beth. I'll see you in class.”

  Chapter Seven

  “So.” Grace is sitting cross legged on her bed, watching me carefully. “I’ve been thinking.”

  I look up from my book at her words. “That doesn't sound good.”

  “No, this one is good, I promise.”

  In the last few weeks I’ve learned that nothing good ever starts with Grace saying “I've been thinking.”

  “Like you promised that we wouldn't get in trouble for being in the computer lab after hours?” I ask dryly.

  “That’s just a stupid rule. The computer labs should be open 24/7 for lazy college students like me who wait until the eleventh hour to start their paper.”

  “Or maybe you should start your paper earlier.”

  “Really, Del, don't you know me better than that by now? Anyway, don't distract me. Grant has this friend...”

  “Nope.” I turn back to my reading, some crazy short story for my American literature class that is boring as hell, but I need to get through it so I can start my paper. It's not due for a week, but unlike my roommate, waiting too long to get started makes me itchy.

  “You don't even know what I'm going to say.” Grace pouts.

  “Seriously, Grace, we have this conversation once a week. Grant has a friend or Holden has a friend, or the guy sitting next to you in your health and wellness class seems nice.”

  “You need a date,” Grace says. “Don't you want to get your first kiss?”

  “It's not high on my priority list at the moment.”

  “I know! You're crazy! You don't know what you’re missing.”

  Oh, I do, I thought, but I would never tell her that. I slip a piece of paper in my book to hold my place and turn on my side in my bed so I'm facing her. Maybe if I humor her for a few minutes she'll leave me alone.

  “Alright, tell me about Grant’s friend.”

  “Really?” She squeals. “He’s gorgeous, not as gorgeous as Grant of course.”

  “Of course not. Who could be?” I say dryly.

  “Exactly,” she agrees, nonplussed. “But still he's gorgeous and sweet and he's just perfect for you.”

  “Because he's gorgeous and sweet that makes him perfect for me?”

  Grace rolls her eyes. “Don't be a bitch, you know what I mean. He's...gentle, so he'd make an excellent first date.”

  “Gentle?” I snort. “How would you know he’s gentle? What does that even mean?”

  Seconds later a pillow hits me in the face and Grace is glaring at me. “Why won't you even consider any of the guys I mention? Wait.”

  She sits up on her bed, eying me closely. “Are you into girls? Because there's nothing wrong with that, but I kinda wish you’d told me earlier. Like before I changed clothes in front of you the other day.”

  “Well, damn, you've figured me out. I'm not interested in any of those guys because I'm lusting after you.” I shoot her a grin. “I want to be able to tell people you snore.”

  “I obviously have not been a good influence on you.” Grace catches the pillow that I toss back to her. “You're mean and snarky now.” She sniffs dramatically, “and you've hurt my feelings.” She flops back on her bed with a dramatic sigh. “And I don't snore.”

  “Oh, but you do. Sometimes like a freight train.”

  “Bitch,” Grace says, but she's laughing and she isn't trying to set me up with anyone, so that's a plus. I roll on to my back on my bed, throwing my arms out wide; I stare up at the ceiling.

  “It's Friday night, why aren't you at a party or out with Grant?”

  “Because I decided to stay in with your miserable ass and keep you company. I thought you didn't want to be a loner anymore. In order for that to happen, you need to leave the confines of our dorm room. For more than just food and classes.”

  “I left last night, and it was for neither of those things.”

  “The gym doesn't count either.” Grace huffs. “You need to go to a party with me. An actual party this time, and not that small shit at my brothers’ place. There's an open door party on fraternity row tonight.”

  I'd heard of the open door parties before. Every house on fraternity row would host a party at the same time, with the same theme, and you could bounce from one house to the other and back again if you wanted. So it was basically a huge block party with a bunch of drunk college guys hoping to get lucky.

  Not exactly my thing.

  “It's luau themed. We can wear bikinis and grass skirts. It'll be fun.”

  I run my hand across my stomach, and even through my t-shirt I think I can feel the puckered edges of
the scar that lays there.

  There are no bikinis in my future.

  “You were with me when I bought practically my entire wardrobe, Grace. You know I don't have a bikini or a grass skirt to my name.”

  “Only because you refused to even contemplate bathing suits when we went shopping. I still plan to get you to the beach one of these days.”

  I don't tell her there's no way in hell she's getting me near a beach. We’ll save that battle for another day.

  I tilt my head to the right so I can see her lying in her bed. She’s studying me as well, and I can tell by the gleam in her eye that the open door party idea has taken root.

  I sigh. “Won’t Grant be jealous that you're at a frat party without him?”

  “Seriously? Have you met Grant? Do you really think any of those frat boys will measure up?”

  “Right,” I roll my eyes, “what was I thinking.”

  “Obviously you weren't.” Grace shifts on her bed, pulling herself up into a sitting position once again. “Are you going to go?”

  I chew on my bottom lip.

  It would be good to get out of the room for a while. Grace was right; I haven't left for much more than class, food, or the gym in the last several weeks. It was easier to slip back into a routine where I avoided people.

  And maybe this party would help me get my mind off of Cole Marsh. He and Robby still sit on either side of me in our U.S, History class, but he’s never once mentioned that he’d asked me out. Or hadn't asked me out I guess, since I had turned him down before he had really asked.

  But now, for fifty-five minutes every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I sit next to him in that auditorium and smell peppermint and soap, and think about what could have happened if I had said yes.

  For the first time in my life, history isn’t able to distract me, and I find myself day dreaming the entire class away. Several times Robby's had to nudge me to get me to pay attention again.

  I'm pretty sure Cole has told him what happened, just as I'm pretty sure that Robby knows that I wish I had said yes.

  But it doesn't matter now. Grace told me that Cole had been spending some time with Beth and her red nail polish lately. And why wouldn't he? I practically gifted him to her.

  “Are you in, Del?”

  I sigh heavily. “If I'm not wearing a bikini and grass skirt you can't either. I don't want to look like a moron standing next to you.”

  “Deal. But I get to pick your outfit.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Sure, why not.”

  Grace is off her bed and in my closet in seconds. She flips though the hangers for a few seconds before pulling out a loose green top with sleeves that come down to just above my elbows. It's sheer so while she's still digging I go to my dresser and pull out a white tank top to go underneath.

  When I turn she has the green top along with a pair of faded blue jean shorts in her hands. She holds both up in front of me and eyes them critically.

  “I feel like a life sized Barbie doll,” I mutter.

  “You are. Dressing you is so much fun.” Grace hands me the clothes. “Go put these on but leave your hair down, I'll fix it up for you.”

  “Off my neck?” Even as we close in on October the heat and humidity is so thick it's ridiculous.

  “Yup.” She waves her hands in the direction of the bathroom, “Go, get changed, Miss Modesty.”

  While Grace has no problem stripping down in front of me, I don't share the same ease. I step into the bathroom and switch out my clothes. Even under her tutorage I still haven't developed any sense of style. Thankfully she's there every morning to make faces at my choice of clothes and then direct me in what I should be wearing.

  I run a brush through the waves of my hair, but leave it down over my shoulders as instructed.

  I stare at myself in the mirror for a few more seconds, giving myself a pep talk. It's going to be crazy crowded, I'm sure, which I'm not a fan of, but at least I have the knowledge this time that if I get overwhelmed I can just walk back to the dorms. I don't have to tear Grace away to get out.

  “Hurry up! You better not be in there changing your mind!”

  I gather up my old clothes and head back into the room. Grace has pulled my desk chair to the middle of the room and has a brush in her hands. “Sit.”

  “Yes ma'am. Does Grant like it when you get demanding?”

  She wiggles her eyebrows. “Like you wouldn't believe.”

  My head tilts back and forth and she runs the brush through it. She grabs all my hair in one hand and I feel her twist it around a couple of times before she secures it in place on my head.

  “Gorgeous, as always. The guys'll be falling all over themselves to get to you.”

  Sexy brunette and sad blue eyes, I think.

  “If you leave this party tonight without a kiss, I'm going to kiss you.”

  I laugh. “You wouldn't play with my heart like that.” I move to stand in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She's pulled my hair up into some sort of knot on the top of my head. The shirt and shorts are cute together.

  “My brown sandals?” I ask with a frown.

  “Oh my, God, there's hope for you yet. Give me about ten minutes to change and we’ll head out.”

  Eight minutes later she's standing in front of me with jeans shorts, much like mine, and a navy blue tank top that has flutter sleeves. Her butterfly tattoo peaks out from under one strap. It's only one of the five butterflies she has stretched across her back, all in various stages of flight.

  I wish I had the guts to get a tattoo. But I don't think I could let anyone touch me for that long.

  “Okay, let's go.”

  “What's the rush?”

  She's practically shoving me out the door.

  “I'm afraid you'll change your mind.”

  Her cell phone chimes in her pocket and when she pulls it out I see the picture of her and Grant that she has set up as Grant’s contact picture on her phone. She slips it back into her pocket without answering.

  “Grace,” I say softly.

  “Don't worry about it, I told him I was going to hang with you tonight.”

  I jerk to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “No.”

  “What? Come on, Del, it’s fine. He's totally cool with me hanging with you. I see him all the time.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Exactly. Why should tonight be any different?”

  “Ummm...because absence makes the heart grow fonder?” She gives me an exasperated look.

  “Will you just come on?”

  “Only if you call Grant and tell him to meet us there.”

  Honestly, I would feel better with him there. Maybe Robby would come with him. Robby was such a big guy that no one was going to mess with him, or anyone with him. The more I think about it, the more I warm up to the idea.

  “Delaney, it's really fine.”

  I shake my head. “Call him. Tell him to come or I'm going back upstairs to finish my homework.”