One & Only (Canton) (6 page)

“Seriously, girlfriend, in six months, you have re
made
that boy.” It was one of the Blondes, talking to Hannah.

“I take some credit for his newfound sense of fashion, yes,” Hannah was saying. “But I had
great
starting material.”

There was a chorus of snickering around the table. My fingers started tingling with a two-year-old memory of what Dylan’s body felt like beneath my hands. I straightened and squeezed my eyes shut before other parts started remembering too.

“That’s true,” said a second blonde. “He has kind of an Adam Scott thing going on. Geeky but adorable.”

I practically nodded in agreement before catching myself.

“If you say so,” said Blonde #1. “But Inever would have noticed the raw material under all that nerdy covering.”

“Oh, he’s still a nerd,” said Blonde #2. “We were out at dinner the other day, and I swear the only thing he wanted to talk about was seaweed-powered cars.” More laughter.

“Laugh it up,” said Hannah. “I’ll keep my nerd boy, thank you very much. When he’s the billionaire owner of that seaweed-powered car company, you’ll change your tune.”

“All hail Seaweed Zuckerberg and our very smelly future cars,” said Blonde #3 and I heard glasses clinking.

I breathed in very long and slow through my nose, then opened my eyes. Sylvia finished going over the menu with her table and gave them a few minutes to think it over. I trailed back to the kitchen with her in silence, my heart pounding, my cheeks inflamed.

“Oh. My. God,” Sylvia said when we got back to the kitchen.

I kept breathing.

“She might as well have just come out and said she was only dating him for his future earning potential!”

I swallowed thickly. “And they don’t get it at all!” I blurted. “‘Smelly cars?’ Come on! The whole point is to convert the seaweed to ethanol. It’s not going to smell like low tide or anything.”

Sylvia blinked at me, then chuckled. “Leave it to you, Tess, to get all worked up about precisely the wrong thing. If Dylan’s as big a nerd as they seem to think he is, then you two are perfect for each other.”

I wiped my clammy hands on my apron. “I’m going to go out there and tell them about the potential for kelp forests as a marine pollution sink and—” I stopped. No, I wasn’t. Because out there was Hannah Swift. If some waitress came up and served them a lecture on algae instead of their lunch, Hannah would be certain to remember. And if she mentioned it to Dylan or her dad…

Sylvia was shaking her head at me sadly. “Kelp forests? Tess, come on. Let’s focus on the issue here. Your ex is dating some total bimbo who’s only after him for his money. There’s no point in being noble about that. If you want him back, you have the moral authority to strike.”

“But I don’t want him back.” It sounded very convincing. “Dylan is a really nice guy, and I like him a lot, and once, a long time ago, we had one good night together. But
I
was the one who walked away. I don’t want to be with him.”

Sylvia’s shoulders slumped as she looked at me. Inwardly, I begged her not to ask
why not?
“Okay,” she said at last. “But still, if he’s such a nice guy, he should know that his girlfriend is using him.”

I rolled my eyes. “You figure out a way to let him know that without making me sound like some creeper stalker ex who
does
want him back, and I’ll consider it.”

Sylvia, of course, could not, so she dropped the subject and went back to training me. Later, Annabel called me over to the computer so she could show me how to split checks. She handed me a stack of black pleather bill cases. “Ladies Who Lunch want a five-way split.”

I opened the top bill case. The platinum American Express card inside read
Hannah K Swift
.

Sylvia wanted me to resent Hannah because she was dating Dylan. She wanted me to be jealous of her because Hannah had the affection and attention of the only guy I’d ever really liked.

Sylvia had no freaking clue. I couldn’t allow myself to begin hating Hannah Swift. If I started down that path, I’d never, ever stop.

SIX

The total on the bookstore register read
$1,534.71
. At first, I was sure it was a mistake. An extra number typed in. A decimal in the wrong place. I asked to look at the breakdown.

It was right. I almost fainted, right there on the floor of the Canton Campus Bookstore.

“I said I was looking for
used
books,” I told the clerk, trying not to choke.

She shrugged and pointed at two textbooks in the pile before me with little red “USED” stickers on their spines. “Those are the only ones I could find used. Not as many people take the upper-level courses, and most of them keep their books.”

I bit my lip as I studied the pile before me. I’d always gotten by with used texts. This was twice what I’d budgeted for textbooks this term, and I hadn’t even gotten my online course packets yet. But I wouldn’t despair. They’d surely have a few of these at the campus science library. I’d just do some of my reading there.

No such luck. At the library, I couldn’t find several of the most expensive. “Excuse me,” I said to the student behind the desk. “I’m having a hard time locating this book,
Tissue Engineering
, in the stacks. But your computer says it’s here.”

The guy didn’t even look up from his screen. “Maybe someone’s using it.”

I checked out the nearly empty reading room. “I don’t see anyone using it. I’m wondering if maybe it’s been mis-shelved…” I gestured at the overflowing book cart behind him.

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “Or maybe someone hid it so they could always be sure to get their hands on it for class readings. Or maybe they stole it…”

“Well, maybe you should buy more than one copy!” I argued.

He rolled his eyes. “Maybe you should write a letter to the acquisitions department about that.”

“Thanks for your help,” I replied through gritted teeth as I turned and headed out the door. My next class started in less than ten minutes, so I didn’t have time to argue with the grumpy librarian anyway.

I’d figure this out. It would just take a little scrambling. I had about three hundred dollars available on my credit card, but I might be able to get them to increase my limit. Mom had a new art client. Maybe that meant she had a little extra cash to lend me. Dr. Cavel had all the research assistants she needed this term, but she said she’d keep a lookout for me and would even ask around a few other departments. Now that my training was done at Verde, I could pick up a few more shifts…

“Lost in thought?” Dylan fell into step beside me. “Or just trying to work out some of the stickier issues in our reading for Biotransport?”

“I…uh, haven’t done that reading yet,” I admitted, sparing him a glance. Maybe if I looked at him more often I’d stop having to catch my breath every time he showed up. I could vaccinate myself against him. That was totally possible, right? “I can’t seem to get my hands on the textbook.”

“This textbook?” he asked and held up a shiny new copy of
Tissue Engineering
. “You should have called me. I’d be happy to share until you find one.”

Called him? For the first time in years? My eyes burned as I took the book from him. “Thanks. I can get this back to you…whenever. I can—” What? Email him daily to schedule time with his textbook? Drop by his dorm room to say hi to him and his girlfriend? No, that wasn’t going to fly at all.

He gave me a kind smile, and it seriously stung. “We can work something out.”

“Thanks,” I repeated. “I owe you.”

He didn’t say anything.

In class, it seemed almost natural that Dylan would sit next to me. After all, we’d walked in together. There were about twenty other students in the class, but only three other girls, all of whom gave me a once-over as I came in the door at Dylan’s side. He opened his laptop and slid it into the space between us so I could see his reading notes.

“Come prepared next time,” he whispered, and every hair on my neck stood on end.

Class started, and I tried to put my concerns about textbook pricing and Dylan Kingsley out of my mind and concentrate. But it was pretty difficult to do the latter, with him sitting right next to me, tapping his blunt fingertips against the table and answering the professor’s questions in his usual no-nonsense style.

Near the end of class, the professor, Dr. Yue, said, “I wanted to leave a few minutes at the end to go over the syllabus and see if you had any questions. I also wanted to talk a bit about the Design Symposium at the end of the term. Given that this is a 400-level class, any of your term projects will be eligible for entry into the symposium, which, as you know, comes with a five-thousand-dollar grand prize. So if anyone here is interested in that, my office door is always open.”

A chorus of chuckles went around the room. My mouth had gone dry. Five thousand dollars would go a long way toward defraying the unexpected costs of attending Canton.

After class, I packed up my bag, my mind already whirling with possibilities. I certainly wasn’t going to approach Dr. Yue before I’d caught up on his course materials, but if Dylan would let me keep the book for the next couple of hours…

“Earth to Tess,” came his voice.

I looked up at him. Vaccination.

“At the risk of getting attacked, are you up for a sandwich? A nice, friendly, utterly innocent sandwich?”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” But of course he did. Well, I wasn’t the silly teenaged girl I’d once been, who read all kinds of invitations into a simple request to share lunch. Besides, the man had just lent me his textbook. How could I say no? “A quick one,” I agreed. “I want to make sure I do this reading and tomorrow’s, too, so I can get the book back to you ASAP.”

“I trust you’re good for it,” he said.

On the way to lunch, Dylan was greeted and waved at by a good dozen fellow students. That had never happened to me, even after two years at State. The campus was just too large, too populous. I’d made a few friends there, but no one I expected to keep in touch with for long. I wondered if things would be the same here at Canton, especially since I wasn’t living on campus.

“So how are you liking it here so far?” Dylan asked.

“Other than the textbook trauma, it’s been nice. I’m loving the class sizes.”

“It’s weird they sold out at the bookstore,” Dylan said. “Dr. Yue is usually really good about making sure they’re ordering the right amount. Any idea when the new shipment might come in? Or you could try online.”

Inwardly, I cringed. He thought they’d just sold out. What would it be like to live in Dylan’s world? In Hannah’s? In a place where the only reason you couldn’t buy something was because the store had an inventory problem? “I’m working on it.”

“Well, you’re free to use mine until you can get your hands on a copy. And you can just drop it by my apartment this evening. I’m over in Swift.” He pointed at the brown sandstone complex at the other end of the quad. “Apartment 202.”

Pretty sure I could remember that. Something perverse inside me made me speak again. “Swift. That’s your girlfriend’s name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Big legacy family. She’s actually a townie, like you.”

I don’t think you call them “townies” if they own half of the town.

We entered the sandwich shop and placed our orders.

“So,” I said when we sat down with our food. “How did you and Hannah meet?”

He paused, his turkey club halfway to his mouth. “Asking questions about my girlfriend?”

I shrugged. “Making conversation.”

The glint in Dylan’s eye said he didn’t buy that for a second. “Nothing too interesting. We were at a frat party and neither of us wanted to be there, so we wound up talking.”

“Not into frat parties? Isn’t she in a sorority?” I asked.

“No.” He furrowed his brow. “What made you think that?”

Sylvia. Common sense. Girls like Hannah were in sororities. They wore pearls and drove their daddy’s cars and had bright, shiny futures where they married soon-to-be scientific billionaires like Dylan. I took a bite of my sandwich, and when I swallowed, spoke up again. “What’s she studying?”

“Communications,” he replied. “This week, at least. She’s had about six majors since we started dating last spring. I think she’d rather take a gap year or something to figure herself out, but her parents won’t have it. Her dad, really. He’s kind of an asshole.”

I very nearly spewed my soda across the table at him. “You’ve met her parents?” I choked out.

“Sure,” he said. “Plenty of times. They live right here in town. Anyway, enough about Hannah. You don’t have to pretend you’re oh-so-interested in my girlfriend. We’re all grown-ups here. Let’s talk about Bio-E.”

So we did. I told him all about the work I’d done at State, and he gave me a rundown of the department at Canton and what he’d been up to for the last two years.

“Actually, I owe it all to you,” he said, his blue eyes alight with what I’d decided to call scientific passion. “I’d probably still be in environmental science if it wasn’t for our Cornell project. It made me think that I didn’t want to just study these things, I wanted to be more proactive in trying to stop it.”

“That’s great,” I was able to say honestly.

“I think about that summer a lot,” he said, then stopped himself. “You know what I mean. About the work.”

“Of course.” I chased a few stray bits of shredded lettuce around my sandwich wrapper as an awkward silence fell over the table.

We could say whatever we wanted about how we were grown-ups and how it didn’t matter anymore, and we could act the part, too. But that didn’t mean we didn’t remember. You don’t forget your first time like that. Not when it was like it had been for Dylan and me.

I decided to just press through to the other side. “I think about it too. I mean, I could have easily given up on algae after high school, but you kind of made sure I remained a fan for life. My new thing is biofuels and ethanol production. I was actually thinking about it in class today when—”

An alarm buzzed on his phone. “Crap, I have a one thirty,” he said. “I can’t believe it got so late.”