Dave: Junior Year (Three Daves #2) (7 page)

The night air felt miraculous on Jen’s face as they stepped outside. She breathed it in and tried to get her bearings.

“My car’s right over here, sugar,” the voice coaxed.

Jen turned to see where the voice had come from. A bright light from one of the parking lot lamps caught her straight in the eye, throwing off her equilibrium. Without warning, a boiling cauldron of bile rushed up her esophagus and out of her mouth. She spewed the rancid contents of her stomach all over the body belonging to the voice.

“Aw, nasty!” the voice shouted.

Jen’s throat burned. A light breeze blew toward her, bringing with it the pungent aroma of her vomit. She fell to her hands and knees on the rough asphalt and coughed. Her mouth filled with saliva. She stayed prostrate, spitting on the ground and fighting not to collapse.

“Fuckin’ hell!” the voice yelled as it faded away in the distance.

Jen felt hands on both of her arms pull her up.

“Oh, sweetie,” said a sympathetic voice that sounded familiar. Kate.

“Yeah, you better get the fuck out of here!” shouted another familiar voice. Maria.

“Asshole!” screeched another, followed by the sound of something flying through the air and clattering to the ground in the distance. Chris.

Someone said, “Let’s get you home.”

The next thing Jen was aware of was a wicked vice squeezing her skull the following morning. She winced as she gingerly walked down the hall to the kitchen to take ibuprofen and gulp down a huge glass of water. Her body felt vaguely sore all over. At least her stomach didn’t feel too bad. Vomiting the night before had rid her body of most of the poisons. Still, she chewed on a chalky, cherry flavored antacid. Padding into the living room, she collapsed onto the armchair and stayed there for the rest of the day, lacking the energy to mourn Dave.

Chapter 8

Despite the nasty hangovers and embarrassing public behavior, Jen kept the party rolling over the next few weeks. She didn’t go out every night, but often enough. After the episode at the Ritz, she avoided shots and no longer accepted drinks from strange men, but she still managed to get pretty ridiculous. Why have one drink when she could have ten?

Her initial buzz usually led her into one of three directions—either she’d feel stupid for having thought that Dave actually liked her, or she’d get angry at Dave for using her and at herself for letting him, or worst of all, she’d scan the bar, willing Dave to appear and beam a smile at her and explain that it had all been a misunderstanding. She’d then pound several more drinks in an effort to kill whichever of these moods had struck her. Even though the alcohol only exacerbated whatever she was feeling, and even though she’d often end up dissolved into a pile of nonsensical tears at the end of the evening, she’d repeat the process the very next time she went out.

During a sober moment after class one day, Jen crossed paths with Tom in the hallway of her apartment building. He huffed past her and barely grumbled a hello. When she stepped into the apartment, Maria stood by the kitchen counter with swollen eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Jen asked.

“Nothing,” Maria said in a higher pitch than usual. “Allergies. I’m going to go lay down for a while.” She disappeared into her room, slamming the door shut.

Jen wondered if she should go after her, but then noticed her roommate’s iPad on the counter. The screen was on and across it was an image from the girls’ spring break trip the previous year. It was of Maria in a cozy—and incriminating—position with Mr. Margarita, the hottie she’d hooked up with in Daytona. Jen flicked through more pictures: Maria leaning against him; him with his iron arms wrapped around her shoulders; Maria rubbing lotion into his perfect pectorals.

Jen wondered why Maria would’ve kept the pictures at all, much less in a place so easily discoverable.
Poor Tom,
Jen thought. As far as she knew, Maria had told the truth when she’d said Mr. Margarita was a final fling. Though an incurable flirt, she’d been faithful to her boyfriend except for that one time. Jen didn’t see anything to gain by Tom finding out about this now, a year after the fact.

Maria eventually emerged from her room in a somber, reclusive mood. Jen didn’t ask about the photos, and Maria didn’t explain. Jen told Kate what had happened, and the two of them kept a tentative eye on Maria for the next few days. Maria pretended not to notice the weird way they looked at her.

The incident sank Jen further into her downer on love. When she returned to her parents’ house for spring break amid the flurry of her brother’s wedding, she could only view the upcoming event with a cynical eye. She felt lucky to have escaped most of the pre-wedding preparations, but there was no escaping the bridesmaid dress. It actually wasn’t horrible—a floor-length, melon-colored, strapless gown—but there was still no chance she’d be caught dead wearing it again. The rhinestones at the waist assured that.

The dress’ best feature was that it extended past her knees, covering the lingering remnants of the nasty scrapes she’d acquired on the brutal asphalt outside the Ritz. She’d had to buy a new pair of shoes when she’d gotten home. The one she’d rescued on the dance floor had gotten left behind, and there was no way she’d go back and ask for it. The Ritz was off her list of places she’d ever go again.

As Jen examined herself in the full-length mirror on the morning of the wedding, she wondered for a brief second what Dave would’ve thought of the dress—or more accurately, what he’d have thought of her in it. She couldn’t believe that only a few weeks ago, she’d toyed with the idea of inviting him as her date to the wedding.

The ceremony was long and boring, and the reception was headed in pretty much the same direction. Jen’s face hurt from smiling at all of her long-lost relatives, whose names she struggled to remember. In her romantically fragile state, she wasn’t the least bit tempted to scope out any of her brother’s friends. Even if she’d been interested, that would’ve waned the moment they started group singing and wearing their ties around their heads—frat boys to the end.

Jen was still barely under the legal drinking age, but the bartender wasn’t carding. Her dad said she could have
one
of something her mother had called a Fuzzy Naval. After Jen’s third drink, she still felt no effect from the alcohol. Her tolerance level had grown beyond a few ounces of peach schnapps. She asked the bartender if he had anything stronger that looked like a Fuzzy Naval.

“Ever had a Hairy Naval?” he asked.

Hmm, David’s had been strictly fuzzy. Dave’s was smooth and firm and perfect…

“It’s a Fuzzy Naval with a shot of vodka,” he explained when Jen didn’t answer right away.

“Set me up,” Jen commanded. “Go heavy on the hair.”

When Kelly Clarkson’s voice belted out of DJ’s speakers, she grabbed her drink from the bartender and slammed it one huge gulp, then dashed to the dance floor. The kiss-off lyrics of the song echoed the attitude she wanted to adapt toward Dave. After that song ended, she stayed to dance with a couple of the other bridesmaids to UB40’s reggae-esque version of “Red Red Wine.” Its drink-to-forget sentiment more closely matched her current state. The melancholy rhythm bled into the first disco beats of Sister Sledge. From out of nowhere, the rest of the bridesmaids descended upon her, hooking arms. They formed a circle around the bride, singing “We are Family” at the top of their lungs.

Jen attempted to escape further assaults on what was left of her dignity by hiding out with some of the older guests at a table far, far away from the dance floor. The group included a few of her mother’s bowling league friends and a couple of aunts, including Jen’s godmother, Aunt Lou. Jen adored her godmother. She was funny and down-to-earth and never took anything too seriously.

“Darling!” Aunt Lou greeted Jen in her rich, gravelly voice. Jen leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, sitting down in the empty chair next to her. “Everyone, this is my beautiful, wonderful goddaughter, Jenny.”

“Everyone calls me Jen now, Aunt Lou, and I already know everyone here. But they may not have known that I was lucky enough to have you as a godmother.”

“Aw, honey.” Aunt Lou patted Jen’s hand before turning and shouting to her son. “Kenny! Get us more drinks!” She turned to Jen. “What’re you having, honey?”

“Hairy Navel,” Jen answered.

“Ooh, sounds good. Kenny! Two Hairy Navels!”

Jen didn’t know what the ladies had been talking about before she’d arrived, but their attention turned immediately to the fresh blood. They fired the usual barrage of questions at her:

“How are you enjoying college?”

“One year left, huh?”

“What do you plan to do after school?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No? A pretty girl like you? What’s wrong with those boys?”

“Don’t worry, the right one will come along.”

“That’s right. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.”

The most recent line of questioning struck a nerve just as Jen’s last drink kicked in. She took another swig from her glass and slammed it back down on the table, harder than she’d intended. She glared at the glass, thinking to herself, “What I want to know is, how many toads’ dicks do I have to suck on before I find him?”

When she looked up, she was surprised by the stricken looks on the faces of the middle-aged women she’d just been chatting with. They were all gape-mouthed and staring straight at her.

Oh, no.
Had she said that out loud?
How many toads’ dicks do I have to suck on?
Oh, no. Ohnonononononono!
She tried to form a sufficient apology in her mind, which unfortunately had decided the whole thing was very funny.
Stupid freakin’ vodka
.

She was rescued by a low rumble that marked the beginning of her Aunt Lou’s distinctive laugh. Jen felt a rush of warmth for her godmother as her barking laugh came on full force. Jen giggled and slapped her a high five. The ladies across the table tried to cover their horror with weak smiles while they exchanged covert, judgmental glances.

***

Jen was greeted the next morning by the now familiar headache she’d begun to think of as her dependable sidekick. It remained as a dull ache when she climbed into her parents’ SUV for the long ride back to CIU. The ride seemed even longer as she tried to nurse her hangover without giving her dad any clue she had one. The hours spent slouched in the passenger seat staring through the window at cornfields gave her time to think—not something she particularly wanted to do.

She couldn’t get the picture of her mother’s friends’ shocked faces out of her mind. What must they think of her? Jen had a pretty good guess. Their expressions had been a blend of pity, disgust, and an assurance that America’s youth was paving a direct road to hell. They weren’t looks Jen liked having directed at her. Would she ever be able to change their opinions of her? Could she change her opinion of herself? She was going to try. With a deep sigh, she resolved to say goodbye to the hangover headache for a while.

Jen arrived at Netherfield Park Apartments with a new attitude and a new sense of purpose. She’d stop getting wasted every time she went out and would clear her mind of any and all romantic ambitions. She’d also refocus on her studies and find a summer internship. She didn’t need a boyfriend to give her life purpose.

Jen didn’t have to look far to reinforce her conviction that romantic relationships were a bad idea. Over break, Jake had come right out and told Kate he wanted to be free to see other people while he was in England. He’d told her she should do the same. She’d resigned herself to it, but walked around in a glum fog. All those weekends spent running to Chicago to be with her boyfriend didn’t seem to have done Kate any good

Tom started coming around the apartment again, but he brought a strained tension with him, and he never stayed long. Maria usually became misty-eyed and found an excuse to disappear into her room soon after he left. The formerly doting boyfriend wasn’t doing her much good, either.

Chapter 9

Late in the semester, Jen went out with Marcy and other friends from the business school to celebrate the internships they’d landed. Jen’s was unpaid at a mid-size advertising agency in the city. She’d taken the train to Chicago for an interview a couple of weeks earlier.

Feeling like mature, responsible contributors to society, the new internees kept their celebration tame. They sat around a table near the window at Quarters—probably the one Chris had been dancing on at the beginning of the school year, Jen thought—sipping their drinks at a respectable pace and musing about whether anything they’d learned at CIU would be applicable in the real world. About midway through the evening, Jen excused herself from the table and headed to the bathroom. It was early in the week, so the bar wasn’t as crowded as usual. On her way, she noticed Dave sitting alone along the bar.

She averted her gaze and kept walking. When she reached the bathroom, she was surprised to find that her heart didn’t race the way she’d expected it would if she ever saw him again—there was no pang of regret over losing him, not even any anger. All she felt was a mild curiosity to see how he’d react if she approached him.

On her way back to the table, she took the route that caused her to walk close to the bar. Dave looked up at her before she got to him. The bruises and cuts that had decorated his face the last time she’d seen him were gone, and she once again gazed upon physical perfection.

His lips spread into his devastating smile. “Hey, Gigi. What’s up?”

Jen smiled, too, happy to be reinstated as Gigi. “Good to know you remember who I am.”

Something in his expression changed ever so slightly. Was that a twinge of remorse she’d seen flash through his eyes? “How could I forget you, Gige?” He wrinkled his nose. “Guess I was kind of an ass to you, huh?”

“More than kind of.” She nodded and chewed the inside of her cheek, wondering what to do next—be cool and walk away or make polite chit chat to prove she was over him?

While she debated, Dave glanced around and asked, “You Vidless tonight?”

“What? Oh, David. He’d never come here. I’m actually shocked to see you here.”

“Me? I go wherever the wind blows…and wherever the whiskey shots are half price.” He raised his glass and spun on his stool so that his lean, panther-like body faced her. Resting both elbows on the bar, he narrowed his sparkling, green eyes at her. “What’s with you and Viddy-boy, anyhow?”

She scrunched her brow. “What do you mean?” She hadn’t seen David since the night he’d walked her home.

Dave opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. He shrugged and downed his shot. After swallowing, he exhaled the fumes and said, “I just think someone ought to tell him he’s not your big brother.”

Jen thought that after the lessons in his dorm room a year earlier, David knew very well that the two of them were in no way blood relatives, but when she thought about it, brother-sister was probably what their relationship had developed into during the past year. And David was a pretty damned good big brother. Something in Dave’s sneer told Jen that he, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of “Viddy-boy” at the moment.

“Are you two rooming together next year?” she asked, fishing for details on what the problem might be.

“Next year? No way—I’m shipping out at the end of the month.”

“That’s right. You’re a super-senior. Congratulations on finally graduating.”

“
Graduating
might be too strong of a word for it, but either way, I’m outta here. Besides, Vid’s getting a place with Ellie.”

“Really?” Jen shouldn’t have been surprised by this bit of news, but she was.

“Care to make this sailor’s last days memorable?” Dave asked, lowering his seductive eyelids and twitching a corner of those delicious lips. The tip of his boot tickled along the side of her calf. “I may not make it back alive.” His last statement came out as a deep, sensual growl.

He’d proven what a charming, manipulative jerk he could be, and yet she felt a cascade of tingles up her arms and in the pit of her stomach at the idea that he still wanted her. She tightened her jaw, forcing a casual smile, and patted his shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again, Dave. Enjoy the whiskey.”

She turned and went to her friends, walking tall—and only half acknowledging that one reason she’d left him so quickly was because she was afraid to give his superpowers a chance to work on her again.

***

Talking about David had made Jen realize how much she missed him. For the last several weeks, she’d kept an eye out for him in all the usual places, but he’d never turned up. She thought about calling him, but with him and Ellie getting serious enough to move in together, she wasn’t sure that wan an okay thing to do. Jen understood her relationship with him was brother-sister, but Ellie might not.

Meanwhile, Maria and Tom found their way back to each other. Jen would’ve described them as back to normal, but there was a definite difference. Maria was more attentive to Tom—greeting him at the door with a peck on the cheek instead of simply shouting for him to come in, always touching him in subtle, affectionate ways. She looked at her boyfriend with a new glimmer of devotion, and Jen realized there’d been an upside to Tom discovering the truth, after all.

During the week of finals, Jen sat at the kitchen table with the two of them, studying. From their seats opposite each other, Maria and Tom locked into a long, amorous gaze. Jen tried to ignore it, but the heat from their stares practically crackled. She was relieved when they looked back at their books, but a few minutes later, they leered at each other again. Filled with a sudden and overwhelming need to get away from them, Jen hopped up from the table and walked away, grabbing her phone. Neither of them seemed to notice.

Without giving herself time to think about what she was doing, she shut the door to her bedroom and pressed David’s number. She couldn’t leave for summer break without at least talking to him one more time. “Hi, stranger!” she chirped as soon as he said hello.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Not much. Just taking a study break.”

“Well then, I guess I will, too.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to wreck your mojo. We can talk later.”

“No. Just give me a second.” Jen stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak again. A few moments later, he said. “Sorry. I was in the stacks. The librarians are Nazi’s about quiet areas during finals.” After a pause, his voice took on a note of hesitation. “How are you doing?”

Jen knew he was referring to the Dave situation. “I’m fine, David. I saw him last week.”

Dead silence followed from David’s end.

“Not like that,” Jen rushed to add. “We ran into each other by accident at Quarters. We talked for a little bit, and then he propositioned me, and I walked away.”

“Smart girl.” David’s tone was bitter.

“Is everything okay between you and him?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter now. He skipped town two days ago.”

“He’s not even taking finals?”

“Wasn’t much point to it.”

David’s clipped answers inspired Jen to change the subject. “Guess what—I have an internship this summer in the city.”

“Nice!”

Jen told him more about her job, and David filled her in on his plans for the summer. CIU had received a special grant for the science department and he was staying on campus all summer to work on the research project it would fund. He didn’t mention anything about getting a house with Ellie, and Jen didn’t ask about it.

Before they hung up, David thanked her for the study break. “Wait—I thought you didn’t call boys.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re a
real
boy, anymore,” Jen teased. “At least not to me.”

David let out a small grunt that may have been a laugh. “That’s right. Just call me Pinocchio.”

“Pinocchio.”

As she hung up, Jen had a flicker of a wish for a blue fairy who could turn David into a real, datable boy for her. She brushed it off as a leftover yearning from the “what if” days. He had Ellie now, and Jen’s life was too full for a boyfriend. Besides, they were better as friends. And yet…