The List (15 page)

“Call me a cab.” I didn't want to stay there any longer than I had to. “Maybe the same one will come and I can get my shoes back,” I said, forcing out a laugh.

I
was still in bed the next morning when Cami stumbled into the room.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after ten.” Cami stripped her dirty clothes off and tossed them in a pile on the floor. “Did you and Chris kiss and make up last night?”

“Not exactly,” I said, pulling my pillow over my head.

Cami ripped the pillow off my face. She stood in front of me wearing absolutely nothing but a huge grin. “Did you go home with Jon?”

“No. The drama kind of killed the mood.”

Her smile faded and she stepped back. “That sucks.”

“You're telling me.”

“So how did you get home?”

I didn't want to think about going back to Ryan's or how close we'd come to having sex, or the awkward good-bye when the cab came to take me home. “Ryan got me a cab.”

She scrunched up her face. “Bummer.” Then skipped into the bathroom.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, staring at the ceiling. “I guess you had a good time.”

“Yup!”

“Figures,” I muttered, yanking the sheet up over my head.

I tried to go back to sleep, but Cami made too much noise. Then she started telling me all about Mike's magic tongue, which both grossed me out and made me insanely jealous at the same time. I finally gave up and dragged myself out of bed. It was Sunday and Cami thought we should call Ryan and talk him into driving us to the beach. I wasn't so sure he'd want to see me, but I couldn't tell her that.

When I got out of the shower, Cami was wearing her bikini. “Ryan didn't answer, but Mike is in. Want to go?”

“My head is killing me,” I lied. “I think I'm just going to stay here and work on my paper.”

“Suit yourself.”

My plan was to stay in my room all day. There was some food in the mini fridge I could eat, so going out for meals wasn't an issue. I had plenty of studying to keep me busy. The thought of talking to Chris made my stomach turn inside out, and the idea of accidentally running into Ryan was even worse. Whenever I thought about seeing him, I had to stop moving so I could catch my breath. I felt like someone had punched me in the gut and knocked the wind out of me.

Unfortunately, Chris had other ideas for my day. Someone knocked on the door not too long after Cami left, and I didn't even have to look to know it was Chris. I ignored it, hoping he'd get the message and leave me alone. Shortly after that, the texts started. I tried to ignore them too, but even with the sound turned off on my phone, I couldn't help looking at it every time the screen lit up. Chris wanted to know where I was, if I was mad, if we could talk, if we were going to break up. So much for casual. Even his texts sounded frantic.

By two I couldn't ignore him anymore. Even though my stomach cramped and my palms were sweaty, I shot him a text telling him I was in my room. He showed up less than a minute later, and when I opened the door he came in without being invited.

I sighed and shut the door, crossing my arms over my chest to hold myself together. Chris looked like crap. His hair was a mess and he looked like he hadn't showered. I was pretty sure he was wearing the same clothes he'd worn the night before, although my memories of seeing him at the bar were more than a little fuzzy. His eyes were bloodshot and they constantly darted around the room. Just looking at him made guilt, anger, and hurt swirl together inside me. It felt like there was a boulder in the pit of my stomach. I almost laughed, though. Just a few months before I'd been sitting in California wishing I knew what it felt like to have a fight with a guy I was dating or face a drunken mistake. Now that I was experiencing those things, all I wanted to do was run away.

“Were you just going to ignore me forever?”

I hugged myself tighter. “Not forever.”

He swiped his hand across his face. “I'm sorry, okay? I went a little overboard. I made assumptions about our relationship. But, Annie, were you really going to go home with that guy? Because that's what it looked like from where I was standing, and when I talked to Ryan and Liam this morning, they said the same thing.”

My insides jerked. “You talked to Ryan?”

“Yeah. Liam took me to a few bars last night. When they closed, he dragged my ass back to their place, so I could sleep it off on the couch.”

I squeezed my eyes shut when an intense wave of nausea came over me. We'd probably just missed each other. If I'd stayed a little bit longer or they'd come back a little earlier, Chris would have known that Ryan and I almost had sex. And Ryan had to face that. I couldn't imagine what he was going through.

“Well?” Chris said impatiently.

I opened my eyes. He had a look of hurt and disgust on his face. I wanted to lie to him, but I couldn't. So I just shrugged. It must have been enough of an answer to hurt him, because he jerked like he'd been stabbed. In the back, probably.

“I guess we should have talked about where things were going with us before you went out,” he whispered.

My mouth wouldn't work, so I just hugged myself tighter. When he took a step closer, I wanted to back away, but my legs wouldn't work either. “You said this was casual,” I whispered.

“I don't want to see anyone but you.”

I swallowed, and even though my tongue felt like sandpaper, I managed to say, “I think we need to slow things down.”

Chris flinched and stumbled back. It reminded me of the way Jon had stumbled the night before when Chris shoved him, and the memory cemented my resolve. Chris was more serious about me than I was about him. I wasn't sure how I felt about him romantically, but I knew I liked him as a person. I didn't want to hurt him, and if things kept going the way they were, he would end up getting hurt. Things with Ryan were confusing and uncertain, but there was no way I'd be able to stay away from him if he tried to kiss me again.

“I like you, Chris,” I started. He put his hand up to stop me. The contorted expression on his face almost killed the words on my lips, but I needed to explain. “But I'm not sure what I'm doing and it's not fair to you.”

“Great,” he said with a laugh. “The old ‘it's not you, it's me.' I've always wanted to be dumped that way.”

I sighed and sank into the chair behind me. My legs were like wet noodles and the tension in my body had suddenly disappeared. Like I was too tired to even be stressed anymore.

“It's like you don't hear me when I talk,” I said. “It really
is
me. Don't you get it? Until a couple weeks ago, I'd never even held a guy's hand, and now you want to pull me into this exclusive relationship? I don't want to be tied down to the first guy I date, especially when I'm not even sure what all these feelings inside me mean. We agreed this was casual, but after last night I don't think you can keep it that way.” He swallowed and stared at the floor. He didn't talk, so I took that as a sign he was finally listening. “Maybe things will work out with us, but right now we just need to be friends. No dating.”

He flinched. “Great.”

“We can still spend time together, but with other people. I don't know what's going to happen, Chris.” I was beginning to feel desperate. This conversation was supposed to ensure I didn't lose his friendship, but at that moment every part of him seemed closed off to me. I wasn't sure if he was going to forgive me. “Please?”

He nodded and took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “I'll try.”

“That's all I want, Chris. For us to try to be friends and see where that takes us. I appreciate you being my first date . . .” I took a deep breath so the lie would sound like the truth before adding, “. . . my first kiss. Thank you for that.”

“I wanted to be your first everything. And your last.”

My stomach jerked and right then I knew for sure that wasn't what I wanted. I had to let him down easy, though. “We'll see what happens.”

When Chris left, I couldn't concentrate on my paper, and I couldn't sit still. Suddenly I wished I'd taken Cami up on her offer to go to the beach. The room felt like a shoe box, and it was making me antsy.

After thirty minutes of trying to focus, I gave up and changed into my running clothes. Not being used to the humidity, I hadn't gone for a run since arriving in Charleston. But at that moment it was all I could think about. Even the risk of running into Ryan seemed worth it.

After a quick stretch I headed toward the bay. It may have been mid-September, but the air was still thick and sticky, and before I'd even made it two blocks I was sweating. I ignored it and turned on my iPod, putting in my earbuds to block out the noise of the city.

Once I got into a good rhythm, the tension in my stomach eased and I was able to let all the worry from the night before melt away. The run made everything seem less catastrophic and more like an adventure. So what if I'd almost gone home with a stranger? Who cared if he and the guy I was currently dating almost got into a fight over me? Wasn't that the kind of stuff I'd gone to Charleston to experience? In fact, at that moment, I almost wished I'd put that on my list. Have two guys fight over me.

The thing with Ryan wasn't quite as easy to brush off. Just thinking about his rejection hurt in a way I didn't even know was possible. Who would have thought just thinking about something could make you ache throughout your entire body?

By the time I reached the pineapple fountain, I was drenched in sweat. Kids swam in the water, some in swimsuits and some in their regular clothes, while parents sat on benches or stood off to the side taking pictures. I watched while I stretched, then leaned against the railing, letting the salty air sweep over me, absorbing the laughter and giggles of the children playing.

I'd always loved that fountain when I was a kid. We'd lived in Charleston—or more accurately, Summerville—for almost four years. We only came downtown a handful of times because my dad had a thing about crowds, but whenever family would come visit, we'd make the trip, go shopping in the open air market, buy pralines and take a carriage tour. I remembered sitting on my grandma's lap and dozing off while the carriage thumped through the city, the gentle rocking just rhythmic enough to block out the humidity.

Those were happy years. Years when I felt like I had a family, before I was old enough to realize that my dad's protectiveness wasn't normal. I was almost eleven when we moved, and only a year later my grandma died, followed closely by my grandpa. We never had visits from family after that to make things feel more complete. After that, there was nothing to hide the fact that my dad was sick.

I was leaning against the rail by the bay when Ryan stopped in front of me, drenched in sweat. He stretched while I watched the kids swim, then leaned against the rail at my side. Our arms brushed against each other. I had to keep my body stiff so I didn't jerk away when electricity shot through me.

“I'm sorry about last night,” he said, not looking at me.

“Which part? Telling Jon I'm a virgin, taking me back to your place, not having sex with me, or tossing me into a cab?”

He shook his head and didn't take his eyes off the fountain. I got the impression he wasn't really seeing it, though. “All of it.”

My eyes stung, but I tried to keep the pain off my face. “That makes two of us.”

“Chris showed up about five minutes after you left.”

“I know.”

“If he'd found you there, it would have been bad.”

I turned to face him and for a second he didn't look at me. When he finally took a deep breath and turned my way, I wished he would go back to looking at the fountain. It was too hard to think with those gray eyes on me, too hard to focus when his blond hair curled around his ears like that and his mouth was pressed into such a hard line.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, then said, “I told him we needed to stop seeing each other.”

His expression didn't change. “I know. He came over after he talked to you. He's pretty torn up about it.”

“What now?” I knew the answer by the look on his face, but I had to ask. If I didn't, there was no way I'd be able to sleep at night. No way I'd be able to be around him.

“I told Chris to be patient.” I shook my head and he turned his eyes back to the giggling kids. “I told him to be your friend and wait for you to figure out what you wanted.”

“Why would you do that when you know what I want?”

“I don't,” he said. “And neither do you.”

My throat was tight and I couldn't rip my eyes away from his face, but he wouldn't look at me. “What about you? What do you want?”

He pressed his lips together even more, forcing them into a line so tight they looked fused together. “That doesn't matter.”

We stood there in silence for a few minutes, and slowly his expression relaxed. He tilted his head toward the fountain and said, “I loved coming here when I was a kid.”

“Me too.” The words were strained, but I was trying. I'd told Chris I wanted to be friends, and I felt I needed to make the same effort with Ryan. It wasn't going to be easy. Just standing next to him made me feel more alive than I ever had, and I couldn't stop thinking about how it'd felt to kiss him the night before.

“Wouldn't it have been something if we'd been here at the same time?”

I swallowed and nodded, but said, “It's unlikely. We didn't go out much when I was growing up. I spent a lot of time at home.”

Ryan turned to face me again. “What's the story with your dad? He was so protective. Why?”

“He couldn't stand the thought of losing me like he did my mom.”