King of Campus (21 page)

They stare silently at him and my heart plummets to the tips of my toes right before jackhammering painfully.  Why would he point out in front of everyone that they have no clue who I am?

But then Nora runs over to an end table and grabs a silver framed photograph with her chubby little fingers.  Showing my dad and Leah who both smile down at her, she hesitantly shuffles her way towards me with a shy little smile curving her cherub-like lips upwards.

As I stare down at the photo of myself at my high school graduation, she points to me and says, “Ivy.”

Why that should suddenly have tears welling in my eyes is beyond me.  But it does.  I can’t help but give a thin wobbly smile in return as I feel Roan softly stroke his hand over my jean clad thigh before giving it a gentle squeeze. Clearing my throat, I say, “Yep, that’s me.  Ivy.”

She bestows a big bright smile on me and my heart, the one I thought was stone cold where these two kids are concerned, begins to thaw.

Leah steps forward, her hand going to Nora’s shoulder.  “We’ve missed you, Ivy.  I’m really glad you were able to make it home today.”  Then she introduces herself and the kids to Roan.

Apparently not wanting to be left out, Nolan suddenly yells, “Cake!”

Leah shushes him and my dad laughs before both the twins scamper their way into the kitchen screaming wildly right before the chanting begins.

“Cake, cake, cake!”

Leah smiles at me.  “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”  She nods her head towards the back of the house.  “How about we take this to the kitchen?  The kids have something to show you.”

Roan and I follow my dad and Leah.  His eyes search mine as if silently asking again if I’m doing okay.  I give him a small smile in response.  As soon as we pass through the doorjamb into the sun filled kitchen, the twins jump up and down yelling, “surprise!”  Or rather some garbled version of it.

Their excitement and sheer happiness are infectious and I can’t help but grin in earnest as I glance around the room.  Roan slides his arm around my waist as I take in all the balloons and the banner hanging up that reads-
Welcome Home, Ivy!
  And who could miss the cake in the shape of the Eiffel Tower that now has a huge swipe taken out of it.

“Hey, bud,” Roan says, pointing to Nolan’s mouth, “I think you got a little something-something on your face.”

Nolan runs the back of his hand across his mouth before grinning devilishly over at his mother.

“We’re having lunch, then cake,” she admonishes gently although she doesn’t seem very put out by it, “not the other way around.”

Feeling overwhelmed, I take in the colorful display of pink and black balloons and the banner that is strung from one corner of the kitchen to the other as well as the beautiful cake.  I… I can’t believe they did all this for me.  I really can’t.  Again I feel a slight burning sensation against the back of my eyelids before doing my best to blink the unexpected emotion away.

I’ve been holding onto my anger for so long, I’m actually not quite sure what to do with it.  My eyes slide to Leah in confusion. I can’t help but stare at her quizzically, not understanding why she would go to all this trouble for me.  I haven’t exactly been nice to her over the years.  I mean, she barged her way into our lives before I was ready for my dad to move on.

And I took it out on her any chance I could.

The rest of the afternoon progresses in much the same fashion.  It’s actually… kind of… nice.  Leah asks me a lot of questions about Paris.  My dad and Roan talk football.  And the twins run around like their butts are on fire before dragging me and Roan off to their bedrooms to see all the toys they have accumulated in four short years.

As I walk through the upstairs hallway, I take a hesitant peek inside the room I lived in for the last two years of high school.  It looks exactly the same as the day I left.  Which, I hate to admit, feels a little bit like balm soothing my soul right now.

Why it should even matter, I have no clue.  It’s not like I come here very often.  Because I don’t.  I come here only when I absolutely have to.  Like Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Other than that, I’ve become extremely good at coming up with excuses to avoid them.

But they still kept my room for me.

I mean, they certainly could have packed everything up into boxes and given the kids a much needed playroom, but they didn’t.  They kept a space for me as if I truly belong here with them.  As if I really am a part of this family.

Even as tangled up as I am in my thoughts, I know the exactly moment he steps behind me.  His presence is overwhelming and for some strange reason I feel incredibly attuned to him.  Silently his breath feathers across the back of my neck.  A slight shiver races through me at his close proximity.

“Old room?”

I nod as my eyes continue sliding over what I’ve chosen to leave behind.  The white four poster bed, shelves of dance competition trophies, a pair of well-loved pink ballet shoes hanging from ribbons on the wall, light blue billowy curtains.  Favorite books.  The only thing missing is my dresser which I have in my apartment.

Moving further into the room, Roan’s eyes seem to take in everything which leaves me feeling oddly exposed.  All of this stuff, it’s who I am.  It’s what makes up the pieces of me.  On the night stand table is a framed five by seven.  Picking it up, he takes a closer look.  Almost as if he’s studying it.

The photo was snapped about six months before my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Every time I look at it, I can’t help but remember how good our life was right before it blew up.

Sometimes it’s hard to believe that everything can be perfectly fine one minute and then in complete shambles the next.  And there’s nothing that can prepare you for it either.  It just sneaks up on you out of nowhere.  And then… nothing is ever the same again.

It never goes back to normal.

Not the normal you used to know and never quite appreciated.  It settles into a pattern of tests and chemo and bouts of sickness as things slowly slide downhill instead of getting better until you finally manage to forget entirely that there ever was a time in your life when you were happy and carefree and… normal.

It sucks.

Cancer fucking sucks.

“You look just like her.”

I give him a strained smile knowing it’s filled with achy sadness.  It still hurts to look at that picture which is exactly why I left it here in my old bedroom.  I can’t bear knowing she’s really gone from my life and isn’t coming back.  That everything I go through now will be without her guidance and advice.

Very gently he sets the framed photo back where it had been sitting.  He does it as if it’s the most precious thing in the world which leaves my heart feeling raw and defenseless.  Roan isn’t turning out to be the guy I first pegged him to be.  He has a softer, gentler side he keeps buried beneath the cocky, I-can-get-as-much-ass-as-I-want football player.

I’m kind of wishing he were just the one dimensional ball player I first assumed he was, because that guy is easily resistible.  Even as good looking as he is.  This guy… the one with me today, well… he’s doing things to my insides that scare the shit out of me because I’m starting to realize that Roan isn’t one or the other, but a combination of both.

With his eyes cradling mine, he closes the distance separating us until he’s right in front of me.  Until I have to tilt my head back to keep my gaze steadily on his.  I can’t help but inhale a shaky breath as his left hand slides its way across my cheek until he’s able to cup it in that big paw of his.

“I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I’m fine,” I lie. 

Softly his thumb strokes the corner of my mouth as his eyes continue searching mine.  Sifting carefully through all the emotion brimming within them.  It has me wondering exactly what he sees when he gazes at me.  I’ve never had anyone look at me the way he does.  Almost as if he sees the real me.  The real Ivy.

It’s a scary prospect.

Feeling oddly disconcerted, I have to remind myself that whoever
this
guy is, he isn’t the real Roan.  This is just a small slice of who he truly is.

His brows draw together as he continues studying me.  “What are you thinking about?”

Unwilling to divulge my thoughts, I shake my head.  A tiny smile flits its way across my lips.  I have the feeling it looks just as bittersweet as it feels.  “Nothing.”

Even though he doesn’t look convinced, he doesn’t push the conversation any further.  Instead, he leans forward until his lips are able to stroke gently across mine before finally sinking into me.  Even though we’re standing in the middle of my old bedroom with the door wide open, when his tongue softly nudges my lips, I can’t help but open to him.

Roan’s kisses are completely addictive.  I think I could easily fall for the Roan King I’ve been treated to today but I know deep down that would be a huge mistake.  One I’m not willing to make.  It hurt when Finn broke up with me and it hurt to see all the girls that filled my spot while I was gone.  Which is exactly the way it would be with Roan.

Except worse.

Because he’s not interested in a relationship.  He’s interested in straight up sex.  And that’s not something I’ve ever done before.  I can’t have sex with someone casually.  I’ve never had sex with someone I didn’t have feelings for.

I’m not even sure if I’m capable of casual sex on a regular basis.  As uncomplicated as it sounds, I know that it’s anything but.

Chapter Sixteen

Yum… I love a man who works out religiously.  Take a look at these delicious pics and don’t forget to wipe the drool from your chins!  KingOfCampus.com

Roan

“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?  You’re so freaking quiet today.”

All my focus is centered on slowly pushing the bar all the way up before bringing it back down to my chest.  I just want to think about bench pressing… not Ivy.  Unfortunately, she refuses to vacate the space in my head.  Especially after the trip to her house.

For whatever reason, that day feels like it was a turning point in our relationship.

“I’m trying to concentrate, that’s all.”  I keep my eyes trained on the bar and not on Dylan who is spotting me from behind.  The last thing I need is for him to catch a whiff of my growing interest in Ivy.  I already know how that would go over.

“Is it a chick?”

Unconsciously my brow furrows at his words before I can stop it.  A dead giveaway, but I smooth it out before he can-

“Christ, it
is
a chick.  Since when do you have female problems?” He’s almost giddy with the prospect. The biggest issue I usually have with women is getting them to back off after we’ve had sex.   I’ve never actually had a girl work her way under my skin before.  Ivy is a first.  An itch that feels all but impossible to scratch.  And I don’t like that one damn bit.  I’m kind of hoping I can just ride this one out and my interest in her will wane with enough time.

I mean, it could happen… right?

“So who’s the chick?”  He continues grinning until I get the urge to punch the smirk right off his freaking face.  “I’m dying to know.”

Yeah, the only reason he’s
dying to know
is so he can run his pussy whipped ass back to his girlfriend and crow about how I’ve finally fallen for some girl.

“There’s no girl,” I grunt, pushing upwards again.  I practically growl out the next words because I just want him to drop the subject.  “Can you stop running your fucking mouth like some gossipy girl and just focus?”

He snorts.  “Since when don’t we talk shit when we’re lifting?”

Well, he’s got me there.  We usually do talk shit.  A whole bunch of it.  And lifting is the perfect time to do it, too.  The music is blasting and talking helps pass the time.  If I’m going to get this asshole off my back, then I need to play this a lot cooler.  “Look, there’s no girl.  I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

He makes some kind of noncommittal noise deep in his throat as if he doesn’t quite believe me, which let’s face it, he probably doesn’t.  Dylan and I have roomed together since freshman year.  So, between that, playing football, and working out together, we know each other pretty damn well.

He’s the first one to call bullshit when it needs calling.

Which is both a blessing and a curse.

I flick a quick glance at him as I lower the bar.  His eyes are narrowed speculatively and if I didn’t know better, I’d say the little hamster upstairs was busy spinning on its wheel as he tries figuring this one out.  I see the exactly moment his mind locks onto an idea and I almost swear under my breath.

“This better not have anything to do with Ivy.”

Once again, I focus on raising the bar.  “Why would you say that?”  So, yeah, I’m fishing.  I know
exactly
why Dylan doesn’t want me making moves on Ivy.

“Because I know you, dude.”  His gaze darkens.  “You like a challenge and that’s exactly what Ivy is- a fucking challenge.  She doesn’t seem to want a damn thing to do with you.”

He’s not wrong about that.  I do love me a good challenge but I think my interest in Ivy goes a little deeper than that.  I mean, maybe in the beginning, the mere fact she wasn’t interested was like waving a red flag in front of me.  But it’s morphed into something more now.