Page 9 of Love Starves

Keeping up with the food journal over the next day is as annoying as it is exhausting. Unfortunately, this is the story of my life now. I let it go this far, so now I've got to suffer the consequences. Leaving Dr. Geoff's office last night, I'd swung by what used to be my favorite Chinese takeout place and grabbed at least one of everything on the menu. I didn't even cheat and log it into the app like I ate it all, choosing a few of the ones that I ate more of to log instead. Geoff would have to be an absolute moron to believe I'd consumed as much as I bought, or he'd commit me on our next visit simply for exaggerating a lie about it.

So far today, I've entered the grapefruit and small bowl of oats I had this morning without omitting the coffee, too. Sitting down at one of the picnic tables dotting the campus, I munch on some carrot sticks as I open the app to include them plus the vegetable protein shake in front of me. As I set my phone down and take another bite of my carrots, I can't help but appreciate the beauty of the campus gathering areas while musing that Geoff might just be onto something with this journal thing. Not like I'd ever tell him as much, but I feel like I'm being held more accountable now, knowing that he can log into my business at any time to view it.

The wind blows gently making the leaves rustle in the trees providing the shade where I sit. Tilting my face upward, I soak in the tranquility that the moment is providing. From the way the breeze caresses my hair, making it tickle my bare shoulder, to the slivers of sunlight trying to peek through the branches of the big oak at my side, I revel in the feel of not having to pretend or answer to anyone, allowing my usual mask meant to keep people away slip.

After a couple minutes, my skin begins to crawl like someone is watching me. Call it a fucked-up second sense, but it feels real enough to have my eyes opening to search the surrounding area. When my search comes up empty, I clamp down on my unease and bury it down in my gut. Slipping the paperback novel that was required for the English class this morning out of my bag, I pretend to read all the while munching on my lunch and keeping my attention on people walking around.

Flipping the page to keep up with the farce of actually reading, I'm acutely aware of the pair of blue Nike tennis shoes edging close to my chair before coming to a full stop and turning when the owner takes the open seat across the table. Turning on bitch mode, I lift my gaze prepared to give the intruder a good piece of my mind as I'm dead certain he's the one that was just creeping. Only, the words get stuck on my tongue while my mouth drops open into an O.

The guy sitting across from me looks like he just stepped out of an ad for Abercrombie & Fitch. Normally, he wouldn't be my type. One look at Giovanni and that crew should give me away instantly. However, I'm not sure if it's in the honey color of his eyes when they lock with mine, or the jawline strong enough to bring runway models to their knees. It could be the way the splotches of sunlight filtering down make his dark-brown locks that wave in the breeze stand out against the slight tan of his skin. I swear for a moment, I catch strands of auburn and blond mixed in there, too. He's not built like Giovanni or even Deklyn for that matter, but I can't say I don't appreciate the way his muscles bunch under my scrutiny. Scrawny this stranger is not.

By the time I'm done checking him out, there's a smile tugging up the corners of his lips, displaying a mouthful of dentist-perfected pearly whites. Feigning indifference, I arch a brow and ask, "Are you lost?"

If anything, my bitchy tone makes his smile wider. "Not at all, actually. Mind if I take a seat for a few?"

His voice drips with a southern accent at a tone of a fine whiskey, and I wouldn't lie about the butterflies it stirs in my belly. Attraction doesn't stop my attitude, unfortunately for him. I've never gotten anywhere in life being suckered into a pretty face and smooth talking. It's why I snap, "Isn't it sort of moot point to ask, considering you're already sitting?"

Not flinching in the least, he motions toward my book, asking, "Doing a little light lunch reading?"

"It's a requirement for a class and I figured I'd get a jumpstart on it," I tell him, wondering right after why I felt the need to explain anything at all to him.

Nodding with a smirk, he replies, "No judgement here. I totally get it. I started this book a couple days ago about these alien-type spores that attached themselves to humans. It was weird and kind of gross because the people started hearing foreign voices in their heads from these sores on their bodies. Total mindfuck."

I narrow my eyes slightly as I wonder if what he's speaking is true or if he's making conversation by spouting nonsense. I'm leaning toward the latter, jumping straight on the defensive. In my world, everyone wants something from you. No one randomly plops themselves across from you and starts up a chatter of bullshit. Sad to say that my bullshit meter is full and not willing to take on this stranger. Crossing my legs, I drop the book into my lap before folding one arm over my stomach and grabbing my drink with the other. I use it as a shield to keep myself from being a total dick to the guy.

Noticing I'm not going to reply, he swallows hard but never loses the grin. "I'm Ryan, by the way."

My stomach does somersaults as I think about giving him my name, but there's something in the dejected expression he wears that has me reconsidering. "Blythe," I tell him after a few moments, barely containing my eye roll.

His face lights up like he just found out he won a new car out of one of those raffle propaganda things. Then he opens his mouth and instantly makes me regret my decision.

"Want to go for coffee the day after tomorrow? Seems like we both relatively have the same kind of schedule every other day."

This time I can't stop the frustration from bleeding into my expression. Grimacing, I not so kindly reply, "No thanks." Snatching the book back up out of my lap, I do the pretend reading thing again until he finally gives up. Without another word, he stands and walks away. I'm not ashamed to say that I watch his backside as he leaves either. The guy has a nice-ass body and is probably a genuinelynice-ass person. Which is one of the main reasons I turned him down. I don't date. Period. And he seems just the type to get attached way too soon, meaning I'll end up breaking his heart. He's better off picking himself a different girl. With that utterly depressing thought, I pack my shit up to leave.

Later as I make it home, I try my best to think about anything other than the guy at lunch. I even make it a point to actually read the flyer Dr. Geoff handed me for that book club. Falling back onto my bed, I hold the piece of paper up to read. Once I reach the bottom for the second time, I let it slip from my fingers and drift to the bed at my side. I can't help but think about how right Geoff was with the journal app. It actually reminded me that I should be eating since I was forced to log it in. If he can be right about something like that, then how wrong could he be with this book club thing. Besides, who's to say I couldn't go to one meeting and if they're a bunch of old hags then I don't have to go back? Giving myself a pat on the back for having a smart plan, I hop back up and go to the closet to change into a different outfit. Opting for something on the more casual side rather than intimidating, I settle on a soft pair of jeans and white, half-sleeve Valentino top. A fleeting spike of indecision hits me as I reach for my phone, and I consider blowing off this whole idea and reaching out to Giovanni or one of the others instead. Having already broken so many rules in the past couple weeks is the only thing that stops me from doing just that. Choosing rather to stuff the phone into my back pocket and grab my purse and keys before making my way downstairs.

Stewart has made himself scarce since breakfast the other morning, and I can't say I'm all too surprised. I'd already weirded him out by showing up in the kitchen then actually putting food in my mouth. He's obviously trying to avoid all that awkward small talk, too. So, there's no one stopping me from practically skipping out of the house to my car. Some things will just never change around here. I let the speakers blare one of my favorite screamo bands on the way to the coffee shop that the flyer said was the meeting place. It's the same music Elliot was complaining about the other day, and a forbidden smile sneaks onto my face thinking about that night. I don't know what it is about the six of them that bring out my most inner bitch, making me want to pick a fight with them almost every single time I'm in their presence. That's the reason why I've allowed all of the rule breaking lately. At least that's what I'm telling myself and sticking to it.

By the time I've pulled up outside of the small cafe on the other side of town, I've already decided that I will be making a phone call tonight after all. Choices are almost limitless and each one has the ability to either ease or spark my emotions. Finding a parking space close enough to the doors, I'm grateful for large windows around the shop, giving better visuals on the people in this book club. There aren't any groups of more than two people, so I sit patiently to see who will show up. In the meantime, it gives me the chance to think about what number I'll be clicking later.

I've already seen both Giovanni and Elliot within the past week. I wouldn't exactly turn down some of the latter with some Kenji mixed in there, but I don't think that's going to sate the beast tonight. Those two are easily the most submissive, which isn't what I'm feeling at the moment. Then again, I'd likely snap at Giovanni or Crue for being their dominant asshole selves right now. Especially Crue. Having never had an actual conversation with the savage, I'm not sure what part of his life molded him into the dick he is now. Probably a good question to ask before you fuck someone. At least someone with morals that is. All I do know is that I place my trust in Giovanni, so if he says the dude won't murder me after a good fuck then I'll take all he's willing to dish out. Sucking in a sharp breath, I realize the thought of Crue's roughness has turned me on to the point that I'm thinking about not making it to this meeting after all. My fingers drum a beat on the steering wheel as I think about how sweet Nick and Deklyn can be, too. Deep down, I already know which one I'll be choosing later. Apparently, my brain just needed to work down the list in a process of elimination anyway.

I'm broken out of lustful longings as I notice a dark-haired girl hold the front door of the café open for an older blonde woman. They're sharing polite smiles while in conversation as the younger one leads the way to the back corner. Neither of them seems uncomfortable while both seem to be waiting for someone else. It'd be a safe bet to say they're part of the book club, and it surprises me. Assuming the only people that could've started this thing were old spinsters who dote on their cats a bit too much, it's relieving to see the first people are closer to my age and actually not at all like the trolls I'd imagined.

The next people to walk into the shop are within minutes of each other and both make their way to the back corner when the brunette waves them over. A pretty Asian woman was first, her straight, black hair gleaming in the sunlight as she shifted her bag on her shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I can't help but notice the damn thing is one of those ‘made of recyclables’ things complete with her own reusable cup sticking out the top. Not that I think recycling and trying to save the earth is a bad thing. It just reminds me too much of the fundraisers and shindigs the Clemontes fund for public approval. However, I do approve of her choice of outfits. A sweet little tan off-the-shoulder blouse accents her dark, wide-legged, crop pants that lead down to a pair of probably cheap, but cute, black ankle boots. Yeah, if we could get past the whole my not being a hippie thing then I could definitely see us getting along, or at least having something to chat about.

I'm almost one hundred percent sure the other girl has been sitting out in her car like I have. Maybe just not as long, making me feel super pathetic. She keeps her face angled toward the ground, even as someone coming out holds the door open for her. Where my hair has more of a brunette tinge, hers leans more to the red side and falls down around her face obscuring almost all of it. Guess we've found the weirdo of the bunch and it didn't take long.

Forcing out a long breath, I figure I've waited long enough and stuff my keys in my purse before grabbing the phone beneath it. Locking the car behind me as I get out, I make my way to the front door, wanting to roll myself in the scent that wafts out as it opens. Something about the smell of freshly ground coffee beans is almost as good as consuming the drink itself. If it wouldn't look bad on anyone who might happen upon my corner of the house, I'd so buy an espresso machine to keep in my room. It'd smell like this all the time. Then again, it might also make all my clothes and shit smell like it constantly, too. I don't buy top-dollar perfume just to walk around making people think I spend my free college hours working at a café serving people to pay for school.

It's with that thought in mind that I come upon the group in the corner and all but one set of eyes fall on me. More like the grimace stretching my mouth into a frown at the thought of having to work at a place like this. I'm not by any means judgmental on the people who do, because it's a job and someone has to do it. I just couldn't ever. Not to mention my social skills with the general public on a daily basis suck, so I could see myself getting fired within the first hour for someone not meshing well with my...personality.

"Are you here for the book club?" The brunette who'd gotten here first asks. Her nose ring sparkles underneath the café lighting, making me wish for a moment that I didn't have a certain image to uphold for the family name, because I've wanted one for years and hers draws attention to her pretty face.

Folding my arms across my chest in my usual pose, I nod once before claiming the only other small loveseat in the area for myself.

"I'm Jolene, by the way," she offers, not acting offended in the least by my rude behavior and continuing, "This is Luci and Penelope." The older blonde woman sends me a soft smile before the save the earth chick waves a hand excitedly.

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