“Babe, there’s a stripper pole in this other room! Can we swap?”
“No!” we shouted at the same time.
Dragging my bag into my room, I skirted around the half-naked man standing at the top of the steps. He definitely fit the Zoe-boyfriend-of-the-month-or-possibly-semester mold.
Rippling muscles crafted over hours at the gym making sure he didn’t miss leg day, a legacy admission to the college with grades that would make any regular student lose their shit, and a cocky swagger that would go along with his Fortune 500 job weeks after graduation.
He threw me a chin tilt ‘sup’ before I disappeared into my room.
I unpacked and printed out my syllabi for all my classes, including a wonderfully aggressive one for Buchanan’s class. The one I’d be sharing with Berk.
I stared at my closed blinds like I might suddenly gain X-ray vision and be able to look straight into Berk’s room. The room that was the reason my blinds had been closed for the past three years. Because I shouldn’t be staring into his bedroom dreaming about him. In big bold letters hanging right over my head like a comic book caption, that was how you spelled heartbreak.
15
Berk
It was nothing. I’ve completely forgotten about it. Jules’ words were ringing in my ears days after I’d stood at the bottom of the steps to her place, seconds away from making that almost-kiss a distant memory wiped away by my growing hunger for her.
But then she’d put me in my place. She was a rich girl who could do whatever the hell she wanted. Just because I was a starting Trojan at Fulton U didn’t mean she gave a crap about all that. And while almost everyone over the weekend had been assholes, there were probably guys on her level who weren’t like her sister’s friends wanting to take Jules out on fancy dates.
Places I wouldn’t be allowed without showing them my bank account—well, maybe in a year. Walking backward across the street, I looked at her house. Why did she live in such a craptastic house? With the money her family had, she could’ve stayed in one of the swanky houses right across the street from campus.
Tomorrow, we had class together. Excitement coursed through my veins. The same kind I got before one of my games. Tomorrow, I wouldn’t be the dude who “happened” to be outside at the exact same time she was coming home, or used cookies as an excuse to hang out. Who does that? Me, apparently, I can’t help myself.
In a matter of days, Jules had gone from someone I looked forward to seeing every day, to someone I needed to see. I needed to make her laugh and make sure she was okay. And I wanted her to want that of me too.
There was an awkwardness between us now and I hated every second of it. But I was in this for the long haul, until she told me that under no circumstances was she going to even consider dating me.
My first football game was in two days. I needed to focus. I slung my duffle over my shoulder and opened the front door. Halfway up the stairs, I froze mid-step. Flinging my bag down, I rushed back down the steps and out the front door.
Lifting the mailbox flap, I peered inside. The same blue envelope stared back at me. The crater in my chest formed again, but it was nowhere near as deep as it had been before. I looked across the street and back into the box. There was a new, white, official-looking envelope beside it with my name on it.
I didn’t even check the return address, just ripped it open. Flipping through the printed pages, I went back inside, scanning each one.
Records inquiry complete.
No known address.
No known addressee.
No forwarding address provided.
Every entry for Elizabeth Vaughn came up as another dead end.
I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the folded sheets of paper on the floor. There was no way I could track her down on my own. I’d tried. Researching each state’s records processes, paying for them. I’d need help, but I didn’t have the money to hire someone to get it done.
That little kid who had stared at the retreating figure of his mom couldn’t let this lie. The same kid who had stared up at the ceiling every night hoping she’d show up at the door telling everyone it had been a terrible mistake—he rattled around in my head, unable to let it go. Moving on was impossible when that scared seven-year-old version of me needed his mom.
My phone sat on the bed beside me. The present my mom had carefully wrapped and tucked into my backpack when she’d left me on the screened-in porch of my dad’s house sat in the middle of my bedroom floor. The white paper with blue and red balloons had faded over the years and there were a few rips, including an especially long one where one of the kids in the group home had found it and tried to open it. I’d carefully taped it back together with his blood still covering my knuckles.
If I opened the box, it would be the last gift I ever got from my mom. She never even got to see me open it. Every birthday, she’d worked hard to buy me one gift and wrap it. Sometimes it was only in newspaper, but the look on her face when I peeled back the paper always made whatever was inside extra special. It was stupid not to open it. For all I know it was a box of decade old Tastykakes, but I couldn’t bring myself to rip through that paper.
I flicked the business card from the sports agent back and forth in my hand. Jerseys were tacked to the walls from charity events the team had run. My lucky number eleven on a few. I’d have a jersey like one of those in a year from now, if I didn’t fuck up.
The card stock thwipped against my palm. Before my rational brain took over, I snatched my phone up off the bed and made the call.
In less than an hour, I had an agent. A business meeting. Five figures sitting in my bank account.
And a private investigator on the case with the full run down of everything I could remember about Evelyn Vaughn.
I’d accepted money from an agent and if anyone found out I was toast and so was the FU season. Everything I’d worked for to set myself up and make sure Alexis never had to worry about a thing could be destroyed in the blink of an eye to track down someone who might not even want to see me. Maybe she’d never bothered looking, or maybe she couldn’t find me, but Mom hadn’t tracked me down so far, and I needed to know this. I needed to find out why she’d given me up. Maybe that would help make putting down roots easier. Finally, having the stability I’d longed for.
It was monumentally stupid, but there was no going back now. It was done.
I sat against my headboard, banging my head against the wall.
Jules’ shadow moved across her bedroom window. The shades were always drawn, but her silhouette was backlit like the perfect torture device. Her arm whipped around almost like she was spinning in a circle, but was cut off by the edge of the window. I could almost see her dancing in her room, folding laundry, a dryer sheet tucked inside so it always smelled freshly washed, or pacing back and forth with flashcards to study. She was definitely that kind of person.
My night was restless.
My bed felt empty, missing the warmth of someone else in the room. Not just anyone—Jules.
My mind wandered to the curly-haired brunette across the street.
I flipped on my side and pulled the shade open, even though the morning sun would blind me and despite the fact that it made me feel like a stalker.
Jules had her shade down. Did it feel weird for her to be sleeping in a bed alone after the two nights beside me? Was she tossing and turning or sleeping soundly with one of her legs thrown over a pillow, wishing it was me just as much as I did? Get a grip, man.