This One’s For You Page 2

  “So, what do you say?” she asked, oblivious to my discomfort.

  I chewed on the inside of my lip, unsure if I was ready for this, if I was ready for any of it. “I should stay in tonight, unpack my lugga—”

  “Please say yes!” Amelia pleaded, cutting me off. She moved from her sitting position onto her knees and clasped her hands at her chest. She was begging, actually begging me to go with her, and then she pulled a maneuver I had mastered many years ago—she puckered her bottom lip, batted her lashes, and had that puppy dog look in her eyes. I couldn’t really say no to that, could I? “Consider it ‘getting to know your roomie’ time,” she added, making air quotes around the last part.

  She won the battle before it ever began. “You win,” I caved. “To the party it is. But only if you stop giving me that puppy look! I can’t take it anymore.”

  Amused, she quickly turned up a grin. “Yay!” she cheered. “Now, to find the perfect outfits!”

  TWO

  “MY BUTT IS HANGING OUT, isn’t it?” I asked as we walked to the party, pulling down on the hem of the dress Amelia lent me. The multicolor, stretchy material was completely out of my comfort zone, and I’m sure my father would have a conniption fit if he could see me now. It rubbed against my upper thigh, barely covering my cheeks, and I was constantly tugging it lower.

  “Well, Miss Prim and Proper,” Amelia mused. “Your ass is safe and sound. No peep show for the horny college boys tonight.”

  The sentiment didn’t make me feel any more confident. I quickened my pace, moving as fast as I could in a pair of skyscraper heels, trying to catch up to Amelia. With each step, my feet groaned in protest. I wasn’t even sure why I brought these ridiculous shoes with me. I’d only worn them once, for a short period of time, for a Halloween party my junior year. My best friend, Reagan, had insisted that I buy them for our outfits, whatever they were, and I’ve had them ever since. When I saw them sitting at the bottom of my closet back home, I had the overwhelming urge to bring them with me, so I quickly threw in a box before I could overanalyze whether taking them to college was a wise choice. Once my roommate laid eyes on them, she wouldn’t stop hounding me until I agreed to wear them.

  So here I was, walking down a concrete sidewalk, heels clicking with every step, toward an unknown destination where a party was or was not happening, and Amelia was practically running there ahead of me. I’d learned two things about Amelia in the first couple hours I’d known her: she had impeccable fashion taste, and she walked as if her life depended on it. As uncomfortable as I was, I had to admit, the dress was pretty hot—and to Amelia, that’s all that mattered.

  “Almost there,” Amelia said over her shoulder.

  We’d been walking for nearly twenty minutes, and I was more than ready to rip off the godforsaken heels. Thankfully, Amelia slowed her pace to match mine. She glanced over at me, winked, and then wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. The feeling that I was more than likely in for an interesting—and wild—year washed over me.

  “And where would that be?” I asked.

  She laughed lightly. Her voice was high, but not aggravating in any way. It wasn’t a screech, but more like a soft melodic tune. “You’ll see.”

  A few minutes later, I could hear the faint sounds of music. As we neared its source, the bass was strong enough to vibrate in my chest. We rounded the corner and found ourselves in a throng of people scattered across the front yard of a big brick house with white pillars. Above the front door were large Greek letters—it was either a sorority or frat house. My money was on the latter. Amelia giggled, grabbed my hand, and started pulling me through the crowd.

  “Welcome to your first of many college parties!” she shouted, the music thumping through the ground beneath my feet.

  There was that feeling again—uncertainty and sheer panic. I felt the world crushing down on me, and I struggled to breathe. I knew we were going to a party, but I honestly didn’t believe it was going to be so huge. Everywhere I looked, unfamiliar faces surrounded me, swaying to the beat. A bead of sweat formed along my hairline, and my hands started to get clammy. I came to a stop, yanking my hand free of Amelia’s, and she stumbled a few steps into the crowd. Pushing her way back through, she stared at me with confused eyes. I felt my throat closing in as I gasped for air. My eyes widened as I looked for a way out. Even with the five-inch heels on, I could barely see over the sea of bobbing heads.

  I glanced at Amelia. I’m sorry, I mouthed, and shoved between a grinding couple. I kept pushing forward, feeling like I was falling down a rabbit hole. Someone bumped into me from behind, knocking me to the ground, and a sharp pain ran through the palms of my hands. Looking up, I saw the sidewalk, and picked myself up. I gently brushed the loose gravel from my hands, ignoring the stinging pain, and took off down the sidewalk, determined to find my way back to the dorm.

  It was too much for me. I wasn’t ready for what I’d walked into. Parties were a no man’s land for me, the forbidden place I didn’t dare enter. Not that I hadn’t gone to a party before, because I had, more times than I could count. It’s just everything changed nine months ago, when the incident happened, and if I never saw a drop of alcohol again, it would be too soon.

  After getting turned around a couple times, I found my way back to the dorm. Just as I reached the door, a shout came from behind me, and I turned. A group of guys were standing there yelling and making obnoxious comments. It seemed they’d had their fair share drinks for the night. It annoyed me. It wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, and they already seemed to be ten sheets to the wind. Irritated, I moved through the door and into the lobby, when—

  Boom! I walked right into a brick wall, knocking the wind out of me. My nose seemed to take the worst of it, and I instantly reached up to protect my face. It took me a moment to realize that I had not walked into a wall, but rather a rock-solid chest. I was surrounded by the scent of spring rain mingling with touches of deep, musky cologne. It was invigorating. I stumbled a few steps back, rubbing my nose.

  “Watch where the hell you—” a male voice began to yell before suddenly stopping.

  I raised my head to look at the person who owned this voice, the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. A small gasp escaped my lips as I slowly scanned his chest. Through the thin material of his shirt, I could see the contours of well-defined muscles. After what seemed a long time, I finally reached his eyes. Brilliant light green and flecked with yellow, they stared widely down at me. Somehow I’d gone right past his prominent jaw, hanging slightly open, and dirty blond hair that tickled his eyebrows. He reached out to me, his hand grazing my elbow, and a jolt of pure energy coursed through my body.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice much softer than the bellow before. Still, there was a hint of annoyance lacing his tone.

  I realized my mouth was still hanging noticeably open, and I quickly clamped it shut, unable to force a coherent thought from my lips. My heart rate kicked into overdrive, threatening to jump out of my chest. There was something about him that drew me to him, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. I decided it was all in my head and finally spoke to him.

  “Um, yeah,” I said, ignoring what I was feeling. “Just fine.”

  I looked over his shoulder, toward the lobby, eager to get up to my room, but for some reason my feet were frozen and I couldn’t seem to listen to the simplest command—walk. His eyes were locked on mine, eyebrows furrowed, and his lips set in a tight line. He looked confused, perhaps a little angry, but the collision wasn’t entirely my fault. He should’ve been watching where he was walking as well. For some reason, the subtle disdain written on his face made my skin crawl. The longer I stood there, the more my irritation grew. I didn’t like being subjected to hard, cold stares over something so small. With one small step at a time, I found the willpower to move forward again, and brushed his shoulder as I passed by. Tugging the door open, I expelled my frustration in one long breath.

  “Wait!” he called to me. I pa
used, looking back to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to come off as an ass.”

  My shoulders dropped. “Apology accepted,” I said, quickly entering the building.

  I waited to hear the sound of the door closing behind me as I walked across the lobby, but it never came. I stopped at the elevator, pressing the Up button, and the doors opened before me. As I turned to hit the button to my floor, I saw him taking long, quick strides toward me. The doors began to close, and he reached out to stop them. We stood there, watching each other. Waiting for someone to say something. I ignored the strange sensation pricking my skin, causing the hairs on my neck to stand at attention—the sensation trying to pull me to him. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I shifted my weight nervously, looked up at the ceiling, and could feel the weight of his eyes on me.

  He finally broke the silence, his voice splitting through the dense air. “What’s your name?” he inquired, the doors closing.

  “Brennan,” I answered.

  “Brennan,” he repeated softly, my name dancing on his lips. He looked at me, tilting his head to the side, the faintest of smiles playing at the corner of his lips. Before I could ask why he needed to know, the doors closed, and the elevator started its slow pace to the third floor.

  I couldn’t shake a certain pair of green eyes from my mind on the ride up. What was it about him that made my body react in such a way? Sure, he was handsome. Okay, maybe he was more than handsome. He was single-handedly the most gorgeous being I had ever laid eyes on. Even in the doorway’s faint lighting, he was unlike anything I had seen. His voice, despite the roughness to it, played in my ears like a soft melody. His hair, however, desperately needed to be cut. It was a bit childish, like Justin Bieber’s ’do in his prepubescent days. And while it suited JB, it wasn’t cutting it for me now, on this astonishing stranger.

  What the hell was I thinking? I shook my head as the elevator came to a stop, and the doors slid open. I couldn’t possibly think of pursuing with this guy. Hell, I didn’t even know his name. So why did it matter how he wore his hair? It didn’t, or at least that’s what I was going to keep telling myself. I had to be realistic here—bumping into him was a total accident. I wasn’t going to fret about this. I wasn’t . . . I couldn’t. Regardless of whether I ran into him again, I had a promise to keep.

  Last summer I made a pact—one that I had every intention of keeping. It was a simple one: no boys, no dating, and certainly no falling in love my freshman year. It didn’t matter that I was surrounded by thousands of guys. So many potentials out there, possibly worth exploring, if not for anything less than a bit of fun. But no, I was vigilant. I wasn’t breaking this pact—it was the last thing I had left of my best friend. I was sticking to my guns. And no blond-haired, green-eyed, Justin Bieber wannabe was going to change that.

  I walked down the hall, trying to focus on anything else besides the encounter downstairs. And failed . . . miserably. I wanted to rewind time to just a few minutes ago, if only to ask why he was being an arrogant ass. Though he apologized, it still wasn’t necessary. People bumped into each other all the time. It was a small thing, nothing to be upset about. But then I wanted to know why he followed me to the elevator just to ask my name. Why did it matter to him? Why was I still going on about this?

  “Where the hell have you been?” my roommate screeched at me as I walked into the room. My heart jumped into my throat, and a high-pitched squeal rushed out my mouth.

  I closed the door, my chest constricting tight, and I paused to shake off the surprise of Amelia’s presence. I didn’t except her to be here. I walked the short distance to my bed, noting her flaring nostrils and her cold-as-ice eyes. “Oh, um,” I stammered, unsure why she was angry. “I got lost on the way back.”

  “Brennan,” she said. Her voice was stern, like the one my mother used when scolding me and my brothers. “What is the number one rule about college?”

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  She pushed herself off her bed and paced around the room, one hand on her hip and the other rubbing her forehead. After several long seconds, she stopped, met my gaze, and sighed heavily. “You never go to a party alone,” she said, her voice tender. Different from the tone she used just a moment ago. “And you never, ever, leave a party alone.”

  I laughed. “That’s two rules.”

  The skin around her eyes tightened as she narrowed them toward me. She put her hands back on her hips. “Don’t make this a joke!” she snapped. “Horrible things can happen if you don’t follow those two simple rules. Haven’t you ever heard of the buddy system?” I nodded. “Well, you were supposed to be my buddy tonight. What happened? One minute you’re there, the next you’re taking off like a bat outta hell.”

  I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. I couldn’t tell her the truth, but I knew she wouldn’t buy any excuse I came up with. I started to rub my locket, something I always did, and looked around the room. I moved around on my bed, feeling uneasy under her heavy stare.

  “Well . . .” Amelia said, tapping one foot impatiently. I wasn’t going to be able to stall her any longer.

  “I got overwhelmed,” I whispered, still keeping the locket tight in my hand. “That was not a party . . . it was a rock concert. I have never seen anything like that before.”

  I chewed on the inside of my lip, waiting, hoping that she would believe me. She rubbed her face with her hands, and slowly, loud laughter erupted from her. I stopped rubbing my locket, staring at her with confusion. Why was she suddenly cracking up? She closed the distance between us, plopped down onto my bed, and draped her arm around me.

  “You, my dear, are in for a wild ride,” she said. She squeezed my shoulder, launching into another giggling fit, and it wasn’t long before I joined her.

  Suppressing her giggles a little, Amelia moved to the floor and took up her familiar sitting position. She laughed quietly to herself as I waited for her to talk again, and it seemed like I could’ve watched an episode of bad reality TV before she was done.

  “So, why did you choose Oregon?” she asked. She had finally gotten herself under control and shifted the conversation to one I wasn’t expecting. One I had hoped to avoid.

  There was no way I was going to tell her my reason for coming here, let alone that everyone in my family currently considered me a traitor. So I told her what I practiced telling anyone who asked.

  “It was far enough away from home, but not too far that I couldn’t go back for a visit whenever I wanted. What about you?”

  “Oh that’s easy! I wanted to get as far away as I could from my parents,” Amelia said. I raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. She noticed my interest and elaborated. “I’m from back east. Manhattan, to be exact. The only child of two people who didn’t care about anything other than work and keeping up on social appearances. I saw my nanny more than I saw them.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  I felt sympathy for her. I couldn’t imagine never seeing my parents. While they were very career driven—my father was a pediatric surgeon and my mother had her own law firm—they were just as dedicated to me and my brothers, if not more. We were a tight-knit family—the kind that spent Sundays together, sat down for dinners together, had movie nights, and more. I had a happy childhood for the most part—or at least until nine months ago, when one night changed everything . . .

  “I’m sorry, no child should—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she cut me off. “I’m not. I had an awesome childhood, considering. I just wasn’t planning to stick around for them to parade me in front of their friends’ sons, selling me off to the highest bidder.”

  The thought made my stomach churn. Even though Amelia’s lips were curled into a magnificent smile, I could see the sadness in her eyes. Despite what she was said, I knew she was hurting—and if she wasn’t, well, there was something wrong with her. Not that I was one to judge. I was pretty messed up myself, though I worked d
amn hard not to show it.

  “So . . .” Her words hung in the air for a moment. I could see she wanted to change the subject.

  “So . . .” I repeated.

  “What took you so long to get back?”

  For the first time since I got back to my room, I thought about the green-eyed guy downstairs. Butterflies danced in the pit of my stomach, and my arms tingled. I squeezed my eyes shut momentarily, savoring the sudden onset of feelings, and then opened them again.

  “I, uh, well, I got sort of lost on the way back,” I explained.

  “That’s not it,” Amelia said. “I can see you’re holding something back. Now spit it out . . .” She paused for a split second. “Wait! You met someone, didn’t you?”

  “Met isn’t the correct term I would use,” I replied. “Crashed into his chest is more like it.”

  Amelia bounced her knees up and down, her hands suggesting I tell her more. “Annnnd . . .”

  “Well, there isn’t much to it. I bumped into him, and then headed into the lobby to come up here.”

  “And he didn’t say anything?” she pressed. “Like an apology? His name? What did he look like?”

  I chuckled, the corners of my mouth curling up. “He was sort of an ass. Like it was my fault I crashed into him.” I paused. “Okay, so maybe I wasn’t looking where I was going, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t paying attention either. Otherwise we would’ve avoided the whole collision.”