17. Priestley
PRIESTLEY
My head aches and my mouth is dry. After Will left last night, I drank at least three glasses of brandy before going to bed.
I roll over and groan into my pillow.
What the hell was that last night? Why did I let him up here in the first place? Why didn’t I just kick him out as soon as he left the ‘champagne?’
He must have seen it in my eyes. He had to have seen it. How much I wanted him to kiss me. And more.
It is simply not possible, especially with him.
There are plenty of guys who look like Will—well, in the ballpark of that kind of handsome.
Guys I could have no-strings sex with and scratch the itch for another few months.
To do it with him, of all people, would be monumentally stupid.
And I may be many, many things, but stupid isn’t one of them.
I comfort myself with the fact that I won’t be stuck with Will for any more group projects. We are flying solo from here on out. Competitors in every sense of the word. We no longer need to be reluctant allies.
Someone rings my doorbell. I squash the pillow over my ear and curse them in my head.
They ring again.
I stomp out of bed and press so hard on the buzzer it hurts my finger.
“What?”
“Let me up, Rosie. I’ve got hangover food.”
I freeze. My first thought is—I look a mess. My second thought is—is this guy a psychopath or what? That’s the thought I cling to.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask through the speaker.
He laughs. God damn him and that sexy laugh.
“You can’t come up, I’m …” Don’t say naked, do not say naked. “Sick.”
“I know. That’s why I brought you food.”
Something inside turns to jelly.
“I don’t need you to take care of me.”
“I know that. Now stop being stubborn and let me anyway.”
Perhaps my body moves without permission from my brain, because before I know what’s happening, I’m pressing the button to let him in.
I have just enough time to rush to the bathroom, rinse my mouth out with mouthwash, and splash some water on my face. My hair is a disaster, but that’s just something I’ll have to deal with because he’s already knocking on the door.
Of course he looks incredible in a pair of grey sweatpants and a college sweater with the hockey logo printed across the chest.
“Isn’t that sacrilegious or something? What about BC?” I ask, nodding at the Princeton mascot in the center of his chest.
“I work for this team now. Trades happen all the time.”
He lets himself in, walking around me like I’m not blocking his way.
I close the door as he sets a bag of take-out food out on the counter. The smell makes my stomach growl.
“Hungry?” He laughs.
“I could eat.”
I take a seat at the counter and let him serve me the fries, greasy cheeseburger and Coke.
“I didn’t think you’d be too hungover for burgers. Sometimes I’m so fragile I can’t eat anything but fruit and grilled cheese.”
“I didn’t have you down as a heavy drinker.”
He shrugs. “I’m not. But celebrations after a game at BC have been known to get a little crazy.”
I watch him while I absentmindedly stuff fries into my mouth. I wouldn’t usually allow myself to eat this crap, but I’ll allow myself an exception. I just need to be extra vigilant from here on out.
“Did you date guys back in Boston?”
I need to know. I’ve already let him see so much, it’s only fair he expose himself to me in return.
He shrugs before stuffing a few fries in his mouth. “A few.”
“Anything serious?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” he says, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I was all over the place I guess. I never felt fully settled at BC. It’d always been my plan to come here, and then when my ma got sick …” he trails off, his eyes getting this faraway look in them.
“That must have been difficult,” I say, not knowing what else to say.
“Difficult isn’t the word,” he says quietly, looking down at his fries. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her.”
That stops me in my tracks. Is there a single person in my life who I would feel utterly bereft without? Like my would be ripped out if something happened to them? The tension in my chest tightens. Yes. Jamie.
He clears his throat when I don’t say anything, stuffing a few more fries in his mouth.
“What do you think?” he asks, nodding to the food.
“I’ve eaten Burger King before.”
He pumps his eyebrows in surprise.
“It’s not all caviar and fancy whatever-the-fuck is in those jars?”
“God, you’re a caveman.” I roll my eyes, failing to keep the smile in. He laughs, his eyes sparkling and that dimple popping in his cheek.
“You okay now, Rosie?”
I keep my head down as I eat, willing my face to cool down. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just seemed sad last night, is all.”
I try for a laugh, but it comes out weird. “I’m fine.”
I hold his gaze—despite how hard it is—until he looks away first.
“Okay. Well, if you ever need to talk….”
“Sure,” I mutter.
He takes a big bite of his burger, getting sauce all over his mouth. He grins at me before wiping his face. I bite my tongue to stop from laughing.
“Pig.”
He closes his eyes and makes more of those ridiculous noises around his food.
I spot Will the second I step foot in the library. He’s set up on one of the long tables in the center of the room.
Books spread out around him, laptop open, head down focusing on something on the screen. I spot the cover of the book I took that first day and smile to myself. I must be smiling still when he looks up and spots me because his expression mirrors mine.
“Rosie,” he says, greeting me when I take the seat opposite his.
“William.”
We study for two hours in a companiable silence. I could be imagining it, but I can’t help but notice that when Will studies, his intensity matches my own. It helps to spur me on and I remind myself that good rivals make you better. Stop you from languishing in the wastelands of ‘good enough.’
When he gets up to leave, I ask him where he’s going.
“Work.”
“Oh, right.”
“Were you feeding off my life force or something, Rosie? Need me to be within ten feet for the dark magic to work?”
“Ha.”
He flashes me an attractive grin before he heads out. I spend the rest of my study session trying not to think about how good his ass looked in those jeans as he walked away.
I’m positively jittery before our next class. It could be the three cups of coffee I drank this morning after finding it impossible to sleep last night.
I consider sitting somewhere else, but when I walk into the classroom and find the seat next to Will not only empty but saved for me, I have no choice but to take it.
“Morning, Rosie.”
“Good morning, William.”
“How’d you sleep?” he asks.
“Fine,” I lie. “You?”
“Like a baby.”
When I sneak a glance in his direction, he really does look well rested. His warm, brown eyes are free of dark circles or unsightly bags. His light skin is annoyingly clear and bright. It only makes it worse that I lost sleep over our past interactions and he didn’t.
Thankfully, Professor Moreno walks into the room before he can ask me any awkward questions.
I find myself slipping into the background. Professor Moreno glances at me curiously a few times, as if waiting for me to jump in with something like usual. But I’m not in the mood to try and impress her. I spy my name at number two in both leaderboards and feel my heart sink.
Pull yourself together. You’re a Rosenthal, Rosenthals do not give up. They do not settle for number two.
I’m so relieved when Professor Moreno calls time on the class, I actually sigh.
I expect Will to pack his books up and rush off to whatever engagement he has, but when I turn around, he’s still standing there, watching me.
“Come on, Rosie.”
“What?”
“We’re going out.”
When I hesitate, he starts shoving my books into my bag. I try a halfhearted protest about the lack of organization, but it’s useless. He plows ahead regardless.
All I can do is follow him down the corridor while he carries both our bags over his shoulder like they weigh nothing.
“Where are we going? Give me my books back, thief.”
“You got your car?”
“Yes, why?”
“Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”
My complaints fall on deaf ears. Will throws our bags into the back of the car and orders me to get in … to my car.
For some reason, I do as I’m told.
“Where are we going?” I ask, buckling myself into the driver seat.
“You’re gonna give me a tour of the town.”
I laugh. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Rosie.” He’s grinning like an idiot.
“You’ve lived here … what, four years now? You must know all the places only locals know about. All the secret spots. The hip hangouts.”
“You’ve been everywhere of note already,” I say. This isn’t exactly true, but even I wouldn’t be able to get him into the other country club. Not without a personal invitation by my father anyway.
“The only noteworthy places in New Jersey are a stuffy golf club and an admittedly pretty good diner?”
“Yes. And Princeton.”
“Wow. They should vote you in as mayor.”
I snort. Where did that come from? That was not a civilized noise.
“So, there’s nothing outside of Princeton? No secret Jersey hangouts?”
I slouch back in my chair, feeling defeated. “If you wanted an authentic tour of New Jersey you should ask my old fraternity brother—Nathan—he grew up here.”
“Let’s go get Nathan then.”
“No!” I practically jump out of my seat. Will raises an eyebrow.
“You guys got beef or something?”
“No, he’s just … probably busy, with president duties.”
“O-kay?”
Why does the idea of introducing Will to Nathan fill me with dread? Is it because I’m ashamed of him? Or more accurately, ashamed of how I am around him? Is it because I’d be worried he’d find Nathan attractive, like everyone does? No, not that. Right?
“What do you want to see?” I ask with a defeated sigh.
“How about Atlantic City?”
I can’t stop the groan escaping.
“Atlantic City is a shit hole and a tourist trap.”
He just laughs. “Exactly—sounds like fun. You know what that is, right, Rosie?”
“I’ll go to Atlantic City with you on one condition.”
“Shoot.”
“You stop calling me Rosie.”
“Never.”
“You did it back in Boston.”
“That was for my parents.”