Changing Forever (4 page)

The wheels start turning in my head as I open my own closet door and pull out a colorful, flower-printed dress I’d picked up on clearance this summer. I’ve never worn it, and it’s just going to go to waste if Kate doesn’t.

“Here,” I say, handing it to her. “Try this on. I think it’s fitting for the occasion.”

Her eyes widen as she places it so she can see it in the mirror. “Wow. This is gorgeous, but Emery, it still has the tags on it. Don’t you want to wear it first?”

I wave her off, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. “I don’t have anywhere to wear it. Besides, it’ll look better on
you.”

“No, it won’t, but if you aren’t going to wear it, I will.”

“It’s all yours.” It’s hard to take my eyes away from the mirror as she sways her hips back and forth to see the movement of the flared skirt. I don’t often have anything to offer someone, and this feels good. “From what I’ve seen so far, I think you hit the boyfriend lottery.”

She looks back at me, her expression not as cheerful as it had been a few seconds ago. “Coming to college was a big deal for me. I think this is his, “Congratulations, you made it through day one,” celebration.”

I nod, thinking of everything I went through to get here. Everything I gave up. “I get it. I just think it’s really nice that you have him here with you.”

Her smile returns. “Me, too.”

While she’s busy styling her hair and applying her make-up, I power on my laptop so I can get started on my to-do list. After checking my emails for anything new, I hesitantly type
Drake Chambers
into the search engine and tap my foot against the old hardwood floors while I wait for results to pop up.

What if he’s a convicted felon, or worse yet, a member of one of those crazy boy bands that girls gush over?

Thousands
of hits pop up, and I instantly know why his name sounded familiar. He’s the quarterback of the freaking football team. Scrolling down the list of articles, I find stories about his high school days and recruitment to Southern Iowa. Lots of schools wanted him.

Drake Chambers is a big deal.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Kate stands behind me, peering over my shoulder. Glancing back, I notice she’s in my dress, and it really does look great on her. Much better than it would’ve looked on me.

“I was Googling this guy I have to work with in speech.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s an entitled asshole.”

She leans in closer, resting her elbow against my shoulder. “Wait, you’re working with Drake? How the heck did that happen?”

“You know him?” Of course she knows him. He’s probably left his jerk tracks all across campus by now.

She stands up straight, biting down on her lower lip. “I should probably just tell you, but—”

“Please tell me you’ve never had a thing with him. I swear, Kate, I will never look at you the same,” I say, watching the smile form on her face.

Her laughter fills the room. “Hell no! I may be a little bit addicted to football, mainly Southern Iowa football.” She pauses, trying to gain control over herself. “Besides, I think Beau hangs out with him every once in a while. How did you get paired with him?”

I remember looking around the lecture hall earlier for anyone who looked like they hadn’t already picked someone to work with, and after coming up empty on my first scan of the room, I spotted him. He was standing with his back to me, and with his shirt on, I didn’t recognize him as the guy I ran into the other day. His toned body and perfectly fitting jeans should have clued me in that he’s a jock.

“I sort of picked him,” I admit shyly. I can be very naïve, but at least I admit to it.

“Seriously. I get that you don’t watch TV or follow football, but maybe you need to start.”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” At least he gave me his number at the end of class and semi-offered to help me with it. I highly doubt he’ll answer, though.

“I think you’re more than screwed.”

Resting my head against the top of my chair, I think about all the possible scenarios. He could actually come through and help me, but from Kate’s reaction and his own admission, that’s unlikely. It’s more likely that I’ll be completing this project by myself.

Whatever happens, I’m going to do what it takes to stay on track. It’s just what I do, no matter what gets in my way. Drake Chambers isn’t going to change that.

“So have you decided on a topic yet?” Drake asks as he sets his stuff on the desk next to mine. We spent all of Wednesday arguing over topics, no closer to picking one than we were when we began. His stubbornness matches mine, which isn’t a good sign for us.

I stare up at him, annoyed. When we left class the other day, we’d both agreed to think of something we could talk about in front of the class for fifteen minutes. The way he just said it, like it was solely my responsibility, pisses me off. I’m actually starting to think he likes to piss me off.

“Obviously I’m going to have to because I can’t count on you.” Looking back down, I jot the date on my notebook and wait for the professor to enter. The sooner we can get this class over with, the sooner I can get away from him.

A few seconds later, I see him inching closer out of the corner of my eye. “Don’t be mad. I warned you. I may be a jerk, but at least I’m an honest one.”

I wait until he sits back in his chair before I chance a look in his direction. I really don’t get this guy. He seems intent on making me do this thing on my own, but he also shows signs of having morals every now and then. It’s so freaking confusing sometimes.

“How are you going to make it through life if football doesn’t work out for you? Because you know, nothing is guaranteed in this life. Absolutely nothing.”

His nostrils flare as we stare at each other. Maybe I should be scared, but I’m not. Life’s dealt me worse than Drake Chambers. “You don’t know shit,” he growls.

“I probably know a lot more than you think,” I say, facing front again.

Very few people have gotten under my skin like Drake. He has irritated me every time we’re within twenty feet of each other, but when I know I’m going to see him, there’s also this level of excitement I’ve never felt before. I like fighting with him. He’s a challenge for me. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself: confident, cute in a rugged I’m-not-afraid-to-get-dirty sort of way, and witty enough to keep me on my toes. I’ve never known anyone quite like him before.

The constant battle is both invigorating and irritating, but I’m not going to stop until I win. I haven’t quite decided what winning entails, though.

Professor McGill lectures the entire hour, leaving no more time to banter with Drake … not that I have anything left to say to him. I can feel his eyes burning into me. He’s pissed, but I don’t care. He’s the one who started this.

As soon as the lecture ends, I pick up my backpack, not bothering to take the time to slip my notebook inside. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible.

“Emery! Wait.”

I should keep walking, but I stop, turning on my heel. It’s just the type of person I am. Always trying to do what’s right. One of these days I might learn how to do what I want instead.

“Look, I can get together tonight after practice, if it means that much to you.” His tone is different than how he’s talked to me during our few other encounters. Monotone. No teasing. No arrogance. It matches the blank expression on his face.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the whole thing.” Determination fuels me as I walk away. Stubbornness doesn’t allow me to look back, even if a tiny voice in my head is begging me to take what he’s offering. It’s obvious that he’s not a stupid guy, because he’s been playing this game a little too well.

He yells my name a couple times, but I ignore it. It’s what I wanted … to make him feel guilty for being such a jerk. So why do I suddenly feel like the bitch?

Having a conscience sucks sometimes.

Instead of going to the library in between classes like I planned, I decide to run back to my room and enjoy a few quiet moments before I have to head to biology. I’m too wound up about having to work on this stupid project by myself to study anyway.

When I open the door to my room, Kate is propped on her bed with a textbook on her lap.

“Hey,” she says, looking up from her homework. The stress must show all over my face because her head tilts as she eyes me carefully. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions.

“Hey,” I answer back, attempting to fake a smile.

She stands, taking a couple hesitant steps in my direction. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Speech was just a little rough today, that’s all,” I answer honestly. It’s probably one of many difficult days I have to come, and I need to learn to deal better. No matter how much I want it, nothing’s ever going to be perfect.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not really anything to talk about.” It’s a lie, but talking about Drake isn’t going to make things with him better. Right now, I just need a few minutes alone to get a grip on my emotions. I hate when I feel like I don’t have control. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods, sitting back down in the center of her bed. Her eyes never leave me, though, and I can tell she’s reading right through me as I step out of the room.

Since I was little, I’ve had this way of dealing with life when it gets overwhelming. Call it my form of meditation—my way of dealing with all the loud noise in my head. I shut myself in the bathroom and lock the door behind me, because at home, it was the only place I could escape to that had a lock. Leaning back against the counter, I take a few deep breaths and let everything go—all the irritations, all the things that are holding me back from being the person I want to be.

Maybe I wouldn’t have such a hard time dealing with my emotions if Mom hadn’t left us the way she did. I was too young to understand, but too old to forget. She hurt me. She ruined my dad. He was a man who spent hours outside taking care of the farm, but he’d make time for me every night when he came inside. We’ built forts, made animals out of Play-Doh, and read books. He was Daddy, my safety blanket when it thundered or the rickety floorboards of our old house creaked.

Then, after she left, he was always busy. If it wasn’t the fields, it was cooking or paying the bills. My imagination became my nightly playmate, which was good sometimes and scary at others. I used to think about what it would be like to be a real princess and wear big, sparkly pink dresses. I used to pretend I was older and wear the heels and purses she left behind. That always led to other thoughts … like what all my friends were doing with their moms. I imagined what it would be like to shop with her, get our nails painted, and cuddle on the couch with a movie. Things I never got to do.

One day, not long after she left, I heard my dad telling my grandma that my mom always had dreams that would never come true if she stayed with us. That was when I first realized I had big dreams, too. I just don’t want to let anyone down the way she did to make them come true. I’m determined to do it the right way … before I make a mistake that I can’t go back from.

I have to remember that now, even when little roadblocks like Drake pop up.
That’s all he is
, I think as I straighten up and look in the mirror. The front of my long hair sticks up from the way my fingers gripped it, and my mascara is smeared from pressing my eyes in the palms of my hands. It’s nothing a brush and washcloth can’t fix.

I just wish it were that easy to fix the damage inside of me. It’s been years, and I need to find some way to let it all go.

Taking a deep breath, I walk back into the room, noticing Kate hasn’t left for class yet. “Do you want to walk to class with me?” I ask, hoping to ease her worry. We have the same major, and have biology class together on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

“Yeah, give me just a second,” she says, throwing her books into her bag.

It’s obvious from the number of times I catch her looking at me while tucking her books away that she’s still not convinced I’m okay. The last thing I want to do is take someone down with my bad mood.

“We’re having a study group tonight for biology. Do you want to come?” I ask, sitting on the corner of my bed. This is normal Emery.

“Maybe. I’ll have to check with Beau first to see if he has any plans.” She slips her bag over her shoulder and steps into her flip-flops.

“You two seem to spend a lot of time together. Don’t you ever just want to do your own thing? When do you have time to study?” I ask as I chip away the polish from my nails. When she doesn’t answer right away, I look up. With the strange tension I’d already caused, this probably wasn’t the best time to mention Beau. It’s not my business anyway.

She shrugs. “We’re making up for lost time. It’s hard to explain, but right now, I need all the time with him that I can get. And don’t worry about my study time. I get plenty of that done when I’m with Beau.”

I smile. “Whatever. I guess if Beau was my boyfriend, I would want to spend every minute I could with him, too.”

“Have you ever had a serious boyfriend, Emery?”