Page 11 of Crazy Pucking Love
Since the guy had been plastered to my roommate almost every time I’d seen her, that’d thrown me for a moment. Sure, college was rumored to be this place where relationships were more open and undefined, but I sort of thought it was a big myth that people would be so blasé about it. After all, I didn’t want a guy I was interested in hooking up with other girls.
The same thought that went through my head when I left the dorm rose up to dig at me again.What if that’s why Dane hasn’t called? He probably already had girls lined up for Saturday and Sunday.
Thanks to my parents’ screwed up relationship, my faith in love had experienced a big hit. I’d gone from believing love conquered all to doubting its existence. After all, their epic story began with the heir to the Davenport company—my dad—creating a scandal by ignoring his parents’ wishes and marrying the girl from the wrong side of the tracks. But after they passed away, the truth came out: they’d both been having affairs.
At first, I swore off love and relationships in general, deciding they were total crap, and that all people were just big liars. It was a dark time, when I’d almost tossed my comic book collection, because 1) I had to hide them from my friends as it was, 2) they served as a reminder I wasn’t strong like the heroines found among the pages, always complying instead of fighting the good fight, and 3) a lot of heroes’ and heroines’ motivations revolved around love, and they conquered a lot of bad odds because of it.
Strangely enough, talking to Karen, my dad’s…other person, made me question everything all over again. Clearly she’d loved him. She got choked up whenever she mentioned his name, and her stories revealed another side of my dad, one I’d never experienced. The guy Mom was having an affair with faithfully visited her grave, too—for a long time I wanted him to stop, because it stirred the rumor mill into a frenzy—but one day, when I went to confront him and ask him to stay away, I’d seen the heartbreak on his features.
So I’d decided love was real, but complicated and risky. The few relationships I attempted in high school were with immature guys who ended up being kinda shitty, and after the last one, I pretended to be done with love again, although deep down, I craved it. Craved intimacy with anyone, really.
The change that came over Beckett when he fell for Lyla swung me back toward believing there was something to the whole falling-in-love thing. In the power of love, to take it to a nice and cheesy level. So now I was torn between longing for a relationship like that and reminding myself that the odds of finding it in college wasn’t great, and honestly, I still had a bit of trouble with complete trust.
Which was how my potential boyfriend list ended up so detailed.
Nothing wrong with being picky. Because that’s how you landed a guy you could talk to at all hours of the night. One who’d kiss you like he meant to imprint himself on your very soul—before Dane kissed me, I didn’t even know kisses like that existed outside of the movies. My lips tingled at the memory, and a thrill traveled down my core.
We’d shared much more than that kiss, too, our connection more than physical attraction, more than one amazing night.
He’ll call.
I pulled up to Lyla’s apartment complex, rushed up the stairs, and knocked on the door. Lyla opened up, gave a little squeal, and pulled me into a tight hug. Over the summer when she lived with Beckett and me so she could complete an internship at my dad’s pharmaceutical company, she’d become one of my best friends—one I could actually trust, which was super refreshing after a lot of backstabbing. She also felt like the big sister I always wished for, and I had no doubt that eventually she’d be my sister-in-law—she was good for Beckett, and I’d never seen him so happy. Even when my Aunt Tessa poked at him about his “shortsighted” decision to let the board run D&T Pharmaceuticals for now so he could follow his dream of playing for the NHL.
On the other hand, when I commented that maybe I would end up running the family business someday, my aunt made a jab that it wasn’t all fun and games and making money. Like I didn’t realize work would be, well, work.
In some ways, I suppose it was my fault she couldn’t get over how I acted out in the past. For some reason, rebellion seemed like a better way to deal than actually dealing. I even went through this period where I shoplifted for attention—stupid and misguided, and nothing woke you up like having to call your brother and beg him to bail you out so you’d see one friendly-ish face before going home to the person who didn’t want you there in the first place.
But I’d gotten help, and I was better, and I was never doing something so stupid again. It was even my number six.
6. No more doing stupid things for attention, especially self-destructive things
Part of graduating early and coming here was to prove that I wasn’t the fragile girl everyone in my family thought I was.
Lyla gestured to the pretty blonde pacing the room. “This is my roommate, Whitney. Whitney, this is Megan, Beck’s sister who I’ve told you so much about.”
“Nice to meet you,” Whitney said, but then she lifted her phone and frowned at the screen. “I thought Beck said he’d be here by eight, and it’s already five after. Maybe I should just take my car.”
“You’ll have to excuse her,” Lyla said. “She hasn’t seen her boyfriend for all of a day, and she’s a bit distracted.”
“It’s been almost two.”
“Oh. Pardon me.” Lyla laughed and then turned back to me. “Ready for tomorrow?”
“I think so. I walked through campus a few times and mapped out all the places I’ll need to go.” Since today was Martin Luther King Day, we didn’t have class, so I’d start my first week of college tomorrow. “Slowly I’m starting to feel like I might belong here.”
“You do belong here. And I love your hair,” Lyla said, picking up a section and slowly letting it slip through her fingers.
“That’s because you’re not a natural redhead,” I teased, flicking one of her bright red locks. I’d been highlighting my hair super blond for years, but recently, I’d decided to go with a few less highlights, which let the strawberry hue show through more. The second someone called me a redhead, though, I’d probably sprint to the salon.
After a rapid knock, the door swung open and Beckett walked through. Even better, he had my white ankle boots.
“Yay, you brought them!” I hugged him and then took the shoes.
“I can’t believe you have so many pairs of boots—I had a hell of a time figuring out which ones you were after, despite your very detailed text.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known that letting you use the spare closet at my place would end up making me your personal fetching boy.”
“You’re the best,” I said as I exchanged my ballet flats for the boots. “And you know I’d bring you footwear if you needed it. Like, remember when you forgot your skates? Who brought them?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Beckett turned to Lyla and kissed her. “Hey, babe. You look sexy as usual.”
