Page 22 of Wild Card

Chapter Nine

“You better have the lime-flavored chips,”I said after unlocking my best friend’s door and slamming it shut.

“Who do you think I am?” Juan placed his hands on his chest, acting offended.

“Where have you been?” Hillary jumped up and ran over to me. She wore a cute romper that made her look ten years older.

“Where did you get this?” I thumbed the mustard-colored fabric, peeling my sweater off and setting my things down.

“My sister.”

Of course her sister had hooked her up. Hillary had an amazing older sibling who always set her up with trending clothes and makeup, always making sure her little sister had the latest and greatest. I loved their relationship, but sometimes I looked at it in the same way I looked at lions in the zoo: total fascination mixed with a little trepidation. I often wondered what it would be like to have that sort of connection with my stepsister. What would it be like if we acted like real siblings and not just acquaintances?

“Mal, seriously—we actually went to the library in search of you, then your house…where were you?”

“Geez, stalk much?” I joked, grabbing for a slice of pizza before landing on the superb leather couch. Juan’s parents owned a chain of restaurants and were insanely wealthy, and he was a hybrid mix of both me and Taylor: never turning down a handout from his mom or dad but working for most of what he had. These couches had definitely been a handout. Both Hillary and I were exceptionally glad he’d decided to take them up on it.

“Where’s the roommate?” I looked around, wondering where Juan’s recluse roommate was. He usually snuck out of his room if there was pizza around—that and Hillary, although hearing she preferred women had nearly crushed the poor guy.

“Some guy in C block is having a video gaming marathon…or computer game. I don’t know.”

Hillary and I burst out laughing.

“C block? You aren’t in prison, G.” Hillary called him G when he pretended his life was much harder than it was, as he liked to do.

“My apartment building has a big-ass A on the front, and there are six units here. Over there”—he pointed out his window—“is a section with a B on the front, and there”—he pointed toward the right—“has a big-ass C. I call them blocks.”

I snickered again, swallowing more pizza. He was ridiculous, but I loved him.

“So, any word fromTHEElias Matthews?” Hillary rolled her eyes, and I knew it took all her strength not to fake putting her finger down her throat. She hated what sports did to normal people. It turned us all into idiots, acting like some people were better than others just because they could throw a ball. Pfft, ridiculous.

I shook my head. “Nope, and good riddance.”

“Hmm…if he was after Taylor that hardcore, I figured he might hunt her down at your house,” Juan speculated, flipping through our Netflix options.

“Do you think he will?” I felt a frown tugging at my mouth, because I really didn’t want to see the asshole again. The embarrassment still sat like a burn mark on my chest. For some reason it burned extra right where my dumb heart sat. I blamed it. I knew my vagina was definitely to blame, but my desire for that story definitely came from the heart. So, it was grounded for the foreseeable future.

“Dunno, I mean…” He shrugged. “If it were me, and I were after you…” He looked up at me, giving me that serious Juan Hernandez look that made every woman swoon right into his king-sized bed. “I’d definitely be back.”

I threw a couch pillow at his head and laughed.

“It’s not me, it’s Taylor…but I guess I see what you’re saying.”

“Just be careful—I get weirdo vibes from him,” Hillary declared, going for a bottle of wine from the kitchen.

“You’ve never even met him.”

“I know, but I can just tell.” She didn’t joke around about being able to “tell” when it came to her vibes about people, and she usually wasn’t wrong.

We laughed, ate chips, and watched three movies before I fell asleep on Juan’s heavenly plush couch. I often stayed over at his house so it wasn’t a big deal, but waking up at two in the morning and realizing I had an early class at seven was.

I clutched my things and tiptoed out of his apartment.

I’d grabbed my car from the parking lot after my bus ride back to the school. So, with my key in hand, I headed toward the obnoxiously bright parking light I’d parked under. Safety first. Except, did I even have the right key out and ready to go so I didn’t fumble when I got to the door? I looked down for a nanosecond and managed to run into something.

“Ow, what the hell!” I rubbed my shin.

“Geez, what the fuck?” Someone growled from the ground.

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