10. Lenni
TEN
lenni
The next morning, I’m woken up by the weight of Jade on the bed.
“Lenni,” she trills. “Wake up, lover girl.”
I groan and force open my eyes. Jade is looking bright as sunshine, and I can already see the questions tumbling from her head. Meanwhile, I just want to go back to sleep. Sleeping in is one of my few vices, and after a fitful night thinking about Forrest—okay, I have to stop calling him that—I need it more than ever.
“So,” Jade says. “Obviously your night wasn’t filled with quarterback-induced orgasms. What happened?”
I throw my arm over my eyes to shield them from the sun. “I told you. The party got boring, so I chose sleep.”
“Clearly something happened for you to up and leave ol’ Dreamboat behind.”
“I think the crush is fading.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me.” She pulls my arm down and I squint up at her. Jade is like a bloodhound for secrets.
“Everything was fine. All I can say is I saw him talking to another girl—you know exactly the type—and they just looked right together. I realized we would look all wrong.”
“Right, because he’s a caveman and you’re a total goddess who shouldn’t have contact with a guy like that outside of a well-paid tutoring session.”
I snort out a laugh. “What do you have against him, anyway? Did you witness him killing a puppy or something?”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m not advocating for you two as a couple, but who cares what you look like together? If other people don’t like it, that’s their issue.”
I sigh and close my eyes again. “I don’t have the energy to care right now. I just want sleep.”
“Too bad, we’re having brunch with Madison, remember? Better get up. She’s expecting a graphic recap of your night with Reeve.”
Forty-five minutes later, Jade, Madison, and I sit outside at our go-to brunch spot, a cheap little café that serves microwaved croissants and calls itself French. I quickly scan the other tables to check for Cam, not because I’ve ever seen him here but because I’m now terrified of him popping up before I can figure out how to handle him. Ever since we walked out the door this morning, I’ve been operating with an uncomfortable sense of self-consciousness, like I’ve been exposed.
Jade was kind enough to fill Madison in on my wholly anticlimactic evening with Reeve as we walked over, and Madison still looks disappointed.
“Are you done with him?” Madison asks.
“I don’t know yet.” I haven’t thought about him since I left last night. There’s no room in my head for anyone but Cam right now.
“You know I’m a big believer in intuition,” Jade says as our waiter slides a plate of eggs in front of her. “So if something is steering you away from Reeve, follow it.”
“You’re only saying that because you hate him,” I point out.
“I just think your affections should be given to a more worthy man.”
“Hmm.” Do I tell her she’s wasting her breath? I chew on a piece of bacon and prepare to sound as casual as possible before my next question. “What do you guys know about Cameron Forrester?” I look first at Madison and then, with trepidation, at Jade. She’s looking at me like a dog with its ears perked up.
“What’s there to say?” Jade asks. “Football god, gorgeous, exclusively dates girls who could pass for supermodels.”
“Don’t forget rich kid,” I say, both satisfied and disappointed that her assessment lines up perfectly with mine.
“Sounds like you know all there is to know.”
I dip a piece of bacon in maple syrup. “I was just wondering if either of you have ever talked to him.”
“He’s in one of my classes,” Madison offers.
I stop eating. Madison’s schedule is studded with honors courses. “Which one?”
“Freedom of Expression and Communication Ethics.”
Jade cocks her head. “Interesting. I’ve heard smart jocks exist, I’ve just never seen one in the wild.”
“He’s definitely smart,” Madison says. “He has some thoughtful things to say in class. Doesn’t talk much, though.”
“You have any sense of what he’s like?” I dare to ask.
Jade points her fork at me. “Wait, why are we even talking about him?”
I ignore her and wait for Madison’s answer.
“Not really, just a quiet guy. Oh, but you know what? I’ve seen him at Cooper’s Park playing with a little kid. Tossing around a football and that kind of thing.” Cooper’s Park is a sprawling park near campus where a lot of students head to run or play basketball or sit in the sun.
“Like a group volunteer thing with other football players?” I wonder.
“Who knows?”
Huh. Cameron Forrester a do-gooder? I’m not sure I buy it. Forrest though? That, I could believe.
Jade seizes on my silence to once again demand answers. “I want to know why you’re asking about him all of a sudden. Are you into him, Lenni?”
“No,” I say quickly. “He and Reeve are BFFs, I think. And at the party last night, he warned me off Reeve. I can’t figure out why he’d do that.”
This of course isn’t the main reason I want dirt on Cam, but it’s a question that needs answering. It was easy to shrug off his words last night when he was a stranger to me. But I have to remind myself that I know this guy, or at least I once did.
“Weird,” Madison says. “That’s not in the wingman handbook, is it?”
“Maybe Reeve’s crawling with STIs and Cam’s just trying to slow the spread. He’s probably hoping for a job in public health.” Jade takes a delicate bite of toast.
I roll my eyes. Anyway, it wasn’t my health Cam seemed concerned with, it was my heart. I just wish I knew if he was speaking out of genuine concern or simple bitterness that I’d forgotten who he was. He expects me to trust his advice simply because we were friends for a few hours? Well, joke’s on him; I don’t trust any man. Save for my grandfather, every guy I’ve ever known has disappointed me. Why add another one to the list?
“I think I should sleep with Reeve,” I announce to Jade that night as we sit on the couch eating fried rice and Thai curry out of take-out boxes.
She swallows a mouthful of food and looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Whoa.”
“Look what he texted me this morning.” I pull up my messages and hand over my phone.
Jade looks warily at the screen, like she’s afraid of what she’s about to see. “Spent the entire night picturing you naked on top of me,” she reads. “You know how to leave a brother wanting more.” She rolls her eyes. “Wow, he must have worked hard on that one. What a douche.”
“Okay, it’s not great, but he clearly wants to sleep together. This isn’t a fun little challenge anymore for me to see if I could actually get him interested.”
“It was never a challenge, hon. Guys like that will sleep with anyone as long as there are no strings attached. Anyway, you told me this morning the crush had faded.”
“But that might be an advantage. I can go into this with clear goals and not get bogged down by petty emotions.”
She tries unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. “Those goals being getting laid and...getting laid? This is a hookup, not a prospective career path.”
“What I mean is the fewer feelings involved, the less likely I am to wind up wanting more than he’s willing to give.”
“Pro tip from someone who’s had a lot more casual sex than you: if getting emotionally entangled with a man is going to be problematic, that’s not the guy you sleep with. Really, Lenni, there are so many sweet guys out there who would love to let you experiment on them. Sam has some super cute nerd friends.”
“I don’t want them.” I dig around my food but don’t take a bite. “I want Reeve.”
Jade’s smile fades. “You’re serious about this.”
“I think so.” What I’m actually serious about is ignoring Cam’s advice.
“If you don’t like casual sex and you don’t like him, why would you want this?” Jade asks.
“Because I’m tired of my past having a hold on me like this. Maybe I would like casual sex if I tried it.”
“Okay, I respect where you’re coming from, but...Reeve? You’re trying to move on from shitty guys with him?”
“Is there any actual rationale behind your hatred of him?” I ask. “Seriously. What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything. I just know what type of guy he is, and he’s the last man I’d pick for you at this moment in your life.” Her eyes are round and sincere. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
I look at my food. “Why would I? It’s just sex. I’m not gunning for a marriage proposal.”
“I know that. But I don’t want you to . . . you know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“To try to make up for what happened in high school.”
“I’m not,” I snap, more forcefully than I mean to. I soften my voice. “I’m not, Jade. I’m in control of this.”
Despite the years that have passed, talking about the high school incident never fails to bring on a fresh, hot wave of shame. When I was sixteen, one of the popular football players from my math class invited me over for a study date, and even though I was a chubby nerd and he’d never spoken to me before, it didn’t occur to me to be suspicious of his invitation. But instead of studying, he wanted to drink, and I went along with it. I drank too much, couldn’t find the words to tell him no and ended up giving him a blow job. Days later, I found out he’d secretly filmed the whole thing—and that the teammate who’d dared him to do it in the first place was busy sending the video out to anyone who wanted it. That was the part that sank me deep into depression. Because that teammate had been my friend since I was ten years old.
Ben Brashman lived two doors down and was the closest male friend I’d ever had. Our families got together for barbecues every summer, and Ben and I bonded over our shared interests in comics and the fact that we were both the children of single moms who worked long hours. In high school, we drifted our separate ways, him toward popularity and me toward invisibility, but we still chatted in shared classes, still gravitated toward each other at those backyard barbecues full of boring adults. We weren’t best friends, but I was certain he had my back. I trusted him.
Later, when the boys were kicked off the team and one of them lost his college football scholarship, I felt nothing. After that, I stayed far away from guys. I’m not a virgin, but by the time freshman year was over and the only thing I could remember about my hookups was being drunk and being afraid, I decided I was done.
Jade’s watching me. “You know the last thing I ever want to do is sound like someone’s mother, but have you ever considered alternate methods for tackling your emotional baggage?”
“Such as?”
“Therapy?”
I shake my head. “Can’t afford it.”
“They have free counseling at the Student Health Center.”
“Gee, months of counseling at Student Health or sex with a beautiful man? I wonder.” Actually, both give me anxiety in equal turns.
Jade shrugs. “Honestly, it’s what I would choose too. But let me say this and then I’ll never say it again. If you’re going to put yourself out there with a guy, he should be worthy of your trust.”
I work at spearing a chunk of chicken with my fork. “It’s not about trust, it’s about sex.” Trust is far too complicated an issue to weave into a short-term project like Reeve.
“You’re a big girl.” She sighs and puts her food on the coffee table. “If this is what you decide to do, I’ll try to keep my mouth shut.”
“Thank you.” I have no intention of putting my heart on the line for Reeve Dalton, and if he’s using me? Good. I’m using him too. I want to be like my friends; I want to have crushes and kiss boys and not feel this fear anymore. What better way to get there than with someone who probably knows how a woman’s body works better than I do? Besides, Cam needs to learn he’s not qualified to tell me how to live.
“Just know that if he breaks your heart, I’m never going to say I told you so,” Jade says. “You can cry on my shoulder while I plot out his castration and subsequent murder.”
I smile at her. “Promise?”
“Promise. You know how sharp I keep the kitchen knives.”