Reckless Longing, Page 3

  "That was lame," Nicole said.

  "And boring," Taylor added.

  "And over," I said.

  "But have you ever seen so many good-looking men?" Taylor said.

  "You mean except for the ones we sat by?" Nicole shook her head. "Jake's a jerk. What did you do to him, Ellie?"

  "Like he said, I ditched him to get pierced." I just hadn't expected Logan to prick my heart.

  "And he's not the forgiving type, I take it." Nicole put her arm around my shoulder. "Good riddance." She gave me a squeeze. "But why do you get that goofy 'I'm in love' look when you mention your bellybutton ring?"

  I was that obvious when I thought about Logan? I wasn't in love. But I was hanging on to that one perfect evening, the perfect memory that would never go bad. I had to work on my game face. I shrugged. "It's a long story. It has to do with my mom."

  "Mama wouldn't let you get a piercing, huh?" She squeezed me again.

  I didn't correct her.

  "Sticking it to the authority figure! I love it. You and I are kindred spirits."

  The smell of grilling burgers wafted toward us as we approached the track. The rest of the student body, those who hadn't gone to convocation, were already streaming in and milling around. Promise to feed a group of college kids and they will come.

  Taylor looked around the crowd, staring at all the men who weren't freshman. The distinction was obvious: confidence, maturity, bulked-up bodies—hot, hot, hot! "Not a moment too soon. I'm starved." The way she said it, it was clear she was starved for more than burgers. "Let's get in line."

  Grills and burger stations lined the perimeters of the track.

  Nicole looked around. "There's a short one."

  "It's as good as any," Nicole said. "The server looks cute."

  And athletic. And built like a tight end. The football players were serving burgers while the profs grilled.

  As we joined the line, I experienced another moment of panic. This was exactly the kind of place where Logan would be. Spotting, and avoiding, a guy with a black eye should be easy, right?

  I wasn't hungry, but I got a cheeseburger anyway, topped with the university's famous gold cheddar cheese made by the food sciences department. And chips. And a cookie. I'd only come for the swag. And because he'd be here. And I didn't mean Logan.

  "Did you see the guy who handed me my plate?" Taylor waved her hand, making a gesture that meant he was smoking. "I'm in love."

  "Sucker. The university's evil plan worked. Now you'll have to buy an athletic pass so you can see him on the field," I said as we carried our plates to the center of the track just past the long-jump pit.

  "Shut up!" Taylor said. "I bought my pass when I registered." She grinned. "Did you see the way he flirted with me?"

  "It's his job to flirt," Nicole said.

  "I thought his job is to play football and bring in money from the alums," Taylor said. "Flirting is a side benefit. Something he does for fun with gorgeous girls."

  Nicole rolled her eyes. "Dream on."

  We found a spot on the grass that was semi in the shade of the back of the football stadium that butted up against the track. We sat on the prickly grass and settled down to eat.

  Besides being relatively cool, this was a strategic spot for me. The departments had set up booths to promote their programs and hand out swag at the end of the track in the shade of the stadium near us.

  Being so near the booths distracted me. Ever since I'd found out the truth, I'd been searching for him on the sly behind my mother's back. It hadn't been easy. I was practically a pathological truth-teller by nature. I'd only learned to lie with relative ease with plenty of practice. And by watching Mom. She was the mistress of deceit. If she ever found out I knew and why I was here…

  I suppressed a shudder along with the thought, not wanting to imagine how crazy she'd go. She'd ruin everything. Like she had with everything else in my life. This was my one good thing. Make that my one potentially good thing. My chance to see if I was genetically doomed to be a conniving bitch or if there was a chance, however slim, that I could be something more. Nurture or nature? Had I ever really been nurtured? I was banking on nature.

  Rumor had it that the tech department handed out flash drives in the shape of the university mascot every year. As far as tchotchkes went, they were more popular than the purse-size plastic single bandage holders the College of Nursing handed out. Or even than the tiny foam footballs from the athletic department. Only the first few thousand students got them.

  A long line was already forming in front of the tech booth. I wanted one. But more importantly, I wanted to see the director of university information services. He was said to personally man the booth, preferring it to barbecuing next to the provost. Observing him from a distance in his natural environment was the whole point of the exercise.

  I wanted to see my father—the real him, untainted by the knowledge of me.

  "Hey! Earth to Ellie." Nicole waved her hand in front of my face. "What are you staring at?"

  I grabbed her hand and pulled it out of my way as she followed my line of sight. "They're supposed to hand out flash drives that are the hottest swag from the barbecue."

  "Yeah?" It took Taylor a minute to spot the booth we were looking at. The banner with the picture of the flash drive gave it away. "I want one, too!"

  He chose that moment to stroll down the path from the gym on the hill and into the booth. My breath caught. I'd studied his picture so often I knew it was him. I looked for any similarity, anything familiar about him. Something that linked us. I waited for my dad to look into the crowd and pick me out like this was a fairy tale. To be my white knight the way I'd dreamed he'd be when I was a little girl. Wondering at the same time if I was being fair. If I had met him on the street, totally unprepared and with no knowledge of him, would I instinctively know who he was?

  As he stepped into the booth, he joked with some of the students who were already in line. He was tall with dark hair. Handsome, with deep-set eyes and square shoulders. Slim and nicely built beneath the university polo shirt he wore. He seemed at ease, looking happy as he tossed a few flying discs with the IT department logo into the crowd. He pulled a box of flash drives from beneath the counter and started handing them out, still joking and laughing with the students who were waiting for them. The line began to move.

  I felt a total lack of air, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the atmosphere, leaving me to suffocate in my feelings.

  He looked like his pictures, but better. Animated, his charm was evident and familiar in a way I hadn't anticipated. He reminded me of someone…

  Then it hit me with the force of falling flat onto my face—he reminded me of Austin. I clenched my fist to keep from hitting something and swallowed hard to keep the bile from rising in my throat. I was trembling in the heat.

  The curve of his smile. The crinkle of his eyes. The way he moved. Worse, he reminded me a little of Logan, too. I wondered then, for the zillionth time, if that was why I found Logan attractive. I was looking for another Austin. A better Austin. Or worse, a father figure.

  "Who are you staring at? Where's the eye candy?" Nicole's gaze bounced back to the booth, scanning the line.

  "No one." It took a supreme act of will to keep my nerves out of my voice.

  "Liar! You're blushing." Taylor was looking now, too. "Hmmm, lots of prospects. But the hottest guy I see is the man manning the booth."

  Nicole squinted. "Nice. But he must be thirty-five or thirty-six. A little old for you, Tay, isn't he?"

  Thirty-six sounded about right. I was nineteen. He'd been seventeen when I was born.

  "Thirty-six is a hot age," Taylor said, on the defensive. "All the sexy, older actors are in their mid-thirties. It's like the peak of attractiveness. They're real men."

  They way they talked about him freaked me out.

  Taylor looked at me. "You're staring at him. Why are you so interested in him? Don't tell me you're into daddy figures
, too?"

  "No. No way." I shook my head, icked out. "I'm curious, is all. He's my new boss. I recognize him from his picture on the university website." True. A good lie always begins with the truth. I learned that from my mother. She was the queen. "I'm curious to see how he is. Is he cool? Or uptight? No sense of humor?" Also true—I was dying of curiosity. "I'm trying to get the lay of the land before I show up for my first day so I'll know how to play things to impress the new boss."

  "Good plan!" Taylor nodded her approval. "I can't believe you scored such a cushy job." She wrinkled her nose. "I have to work in the dining hall. Work study sucks."

  Nicole laughed. She didn't have to work anywhere.

  Nicole popped to a stand. "What are we waiting for? Let's get ourselves a free flash drive and meet your boss."

  I shook my head. "No, thanks. Go on ahead. I'll wait here. I'd rather wait until Monday to meet him face to face. It would be awkward introducing myself in that crowd."

  That was true, too. What a fantastic truth-teller I was.

  But the better, deeper truth was that I didn't want to meet my father for this first time as one of a sea of faces that he handed a piece of swag to. I confess again to lying. I hadn't come to the barbecue for the swag, either. I'd come to see what I was dealing with and whether I could face him when the time came and not give myself away.

  "Oh, look! There's Bre." Taylor pointed. "She and her friends are way up in line. Let's cut in with them."

  "Get one for me, too."

  Chapter Three

  Okay, I confess to Facebook stalking Logan. It was immature, maybe. In my defense, I waited nearly twenty-four hours until giving in to my morbid curiosity. Certain thoughts kept swirling in my mind, demanding an answer—was he really as hot as I remembered? What did he look like without that black eye? Was sympathy for him coloring my perception and memories of him? Deep down, women like me like a wounded hero. We have this nurturing nursing instinct that kicks in and suddenly we become Florence Nightingale. Helping the hurt is better than concentrating on our own problems.

  And then there's being lonely and angry, which can impair your judgment as easily as being drunk, especially if someone white-knights you out of the blue the way Logan had. I'd been stone-cold sober when we met, but I didn't trust myself.

  And finally, what if he really was a fighter? And his pool-ball story was pure crap?

  I told myself none of this mattered. I didn't want to see him again, especially not after realizing that he looked a little too much like Austin and maybe I was transferring. Or trying to recapture something that should have died a long time ago. I was hanging on and mourning, going through the stages of dead relationship grief. This was probably just another stage, a dangerous stage. I had to keep my head and focus on my mission. I was here to meet my dad, not fall in love again. One major emotional upheaval was probably one more than I could handle right now. I needed two like I needed another lab class.

  Despite all my terrific and logical arguments, I couldn't stop myself from playing FBI and looking Logan up on Facebook. He was easy enough to find. And drop-dead gorgeous when he had two good eyes. Buff, too, in his bro-tank.

  So not good. I realized I was smiling as I stared at his picture. That wasn't good, either. I couldn't see his whole profile, not unless I friended him. I scanned his About section, hoping he'd listed his major or something. Nope.

  Okay, this was maybe even more desperate, but I hopped over to the university missed connections Facebook page. To cheer me up. Or maybe depress myself with all those people who found other people hot and were looking to connect. Getting a mention was like a rite of status and passage and an ego booster. Maybe Logan Walker was looking for me, the girl who did a Cinderella on him. Wouldn't it be good to know if he was? And if he'd already forgotten me, I still had the memory of a perfect night.

  There were tons of messages. Everyone was looking for someone they'd met at one of the WoW! functions.

  Hey, beautiful girl in the red skirt who bumped into me at The Price is Right and spilled her pop on my sandals. I think you're hot. Bummed that I chickened out and didn't get your number. I'm the blond who won the football jersey. HMU…

  I scanned down the list, smiling at the romantic sentiment of some, laughing at others, and getting more depressed, and, conversely, relieved at the same time. Then one message popped out.

  Desperately seeking the gorgeous girl with the great sense of humor who got her bellybutton pierced at Up All Night. I'd like to hold your hand again. Hit me up. Seriously. Your moral support guy with the black eye.

  There was no mistaking this message. This one was for me. My moral support guy.

  I couldn't help it. I was smiling ear to ear, even as my pulse roared in them. "It's your black eye. It blurred your vision," I said aloud, as if he was in the room with me. "You couldn't see clearly. I think maybe you did get a concussion, because something messed with your mind." I paused. "I'm not gorgeous," I whispered just before I panicked and saw about thirty tags and over a hundred likes.

  Shit.

  I clicked on the message so I could see all the tags, worried that someone had tagged me and blown my cover.

  Logan, buddy, this has to be you. You're the only guy I know who can get a black eye while playing pool. Babe, reveal yourself before my man goes crazy.

  Message after message tagging Logan. No one knew who I was. I wasn't tagged once. I let out a happy sigh of relief. This was still my private thing. And—Logan's story about pool appeared to be true, or at least consistent. I took a screenshot of his message so I could look at it whenever I wanted.

  I bounced back to his profile page. My fingers hovered over the Add Friend button like they had a mind of their own. Temptation is a bitch. I took a deep breath and reminded myself again what a bad idea it was to contact Logan. Not only did I not want to spoil that perfect memory, it wasn't fair to him.

  Since I was on a Facebook binge, I flipped to Austin's page for comparison's sake. I'd unfriended him right after. We went from "in a relationship" to enemies in an instant. He'd updated his picture. My traitorous heart did a little flip when I saw it. He'd healed and looked good. Part of me was relieved.

  I swallowed hard and studied his picture, trying futilely to convince myself he and Logan looked nothing alike. That I didn't have a type. That I wasn't looking for a guy like daddy. Until early this summer, well after I'd been dating Austin, I didn't even know what my dad looked like. And even if I did have a physical type, that didn't mean they had to act the same and all be lying scumbag cheaters.

  The door to our dorm room shuddered open. Bre came in. I closed my browser.

  "What are you up to?" Bre asked.

  "Nothing. Just reading missed connections."

  "Anything interesting?" She came over and plopped on her bed. "Were we mentioned?" She sounded too hopeful.

  I shrugged and gave her a sympathetic look. "Why would you be mentioned? You made a connection."

  "Some other guy could be lusting after my body." She grinned. "Why do you have that sappy look on your face?" She cocked a brow comically.

  "I'm a sucker for a good romance. There's a lot of cute, romantic stuff on there. Missed connections galore. The course of true love never does run smooth." Yeah, I still remembered a bit of my Shakespeare. I snapped my laptop shut. "I'm starved. Let's get something to eat."

  "Since when are you ever starved?"

  Since now, when I was the teeniest bit irrationally happy that Logan was looking for me. It didn't mean anything. And I wasn't going to act on it. But I could hold onto that glimmer of happiness for a while. What was the harm in that?

  On Sunday, we went to the rec center and spent as much of the day as we could in the pool. It was the only way to cool down. I wore my white bikini that showed off my new bellybutton ring. I wasn't exactly trolling, but I got a few looks. I kept a nervous eye out for Logan, wondering what he'd think of me in my bikini. He never showed. Maybe he was one of the lucky ones wi
th an air-conditioned apartment.

  Sunday night I cleaned my bellybutton super carefully. I wasn't supposed to have gone in chlorine, but the heat made me do it. Just before bed I checked missed connections again to see if there were any more tags and whether I'd been outed as Logan's mystery girl. A few more tags mentioning Logan. And this new message:

  Hot guy with the black eye I saw at the creamery today with your three friends, how handsome are you in your normal state? I followed you back to campus, but not in a creepy stalker way. I was walking the same way at the same pace. I'm a blond Double Deltzee. I'd like to get to know you. Want to meet up?

  I scowled. Delta Delta Zetas were sluts and the beauty queens of campus. They never wore their letters without wearing full makeup. Odds are this girl was truly gorgeous. And whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was jealous. Pea green, in fact, even though I had no right to be.

  Monday morning I was up early. When I sat up in bed, my bellybutton ring ached, reminding me that pleasure doesn't come without pain. I winced and cursed Logan Walker for getting me into this bellybutton ring thing. Without his help, I could have backed out and been pain free. Then again, maybe I shouldn't have gone swimming in a chlorinated pool. I lifted up the tank top I slept in to check my piercing. My navel looked pink and healthy. I admired the ring—gorgeous! The jewel sparkled in the light streaming in past the edges of our blackout blinds and made me happy. As happy as I got, anyway.

  Despite getting up early, I was still running late for my first day of class. My stomach was full of dueling butterflies, the vicious warrior kind that swooped and attacked each other. Today was not only the first day of class. It was the first day of my job and I was going to meet my biological father face to face.

  I had no idea how I was going to react. Calmly, I hoped. I kept telling myself he was just a guy who had sex with my mother and never found out about the consequences. He didn't owe me anything. Maybe he owed my mom something, like back child support. But for all her evil ways, she'd never asked him for it. Of course, asking would have meant tracking him down and telling him about me. For some reason, Mom had never done it.