Chapter 18 Donovan #2
Does that mean I can take a shot at the other Wolinski? Why didn’t you tell me she was hard-core? She tried to stab me in the eye with her straw, man. That a good sign?
My knee jerks up to bang against the table.
DONOVAN: NO!
I’m so stressed right now. I can hardly type.
“Has he broken down?”
I glance up at my date. She seems genuinely concerned, and I’m such an asshole. I put my phone on silent. I want to be a nice guy. I decide to be kind and eat fast.
This date was fucked from the start, and I know it’s going nowhere—but the least I can do is go through the motions all the way to dessert.
I pay up and walk my non-girlfriend to her car, silently thanking Lewis for the tip—if I’d picked her up, I’d have to drive her home now.
“Well…” She puts a hand on the roof. “Thanks for dinner. I had a great time.”
She gnaws at her lip, eyeing me. Fuck. Is she expecting a kiss? A second date? Maybe she’s thinking we could go on to a bar, or something.
“Don’t worry about it,” she says, like she’s read my mind.
She gives me a shy smile and leans in for a hug.
“I’m not expecting anything more from you. Maybe we can grab a coffee every now and then—run through your latest game.”
“I suck.”
She laughs. “That’s a little harsh. At least we tried.” She shrugs. “It was nice.”
She nudges me. Why don’t I feel anything right now? A spark, a tug—the stuff they talk about in romances.
“And to be honest with you, Donovan…” She pauses. “I was kinda considering canceling on you. There’s a guy on your team; he’s in one of my classes… No hard feelings, right?”
I should be pissed she’s chosen another dude over me, but it’s actually freeing.
I don’t feel guilty when I wish her good night, and as I jump in my car and head for the Java, I’m so incredibly relieved. I park and make a beeline for the bar.
The place is packed, the air hot and thick as I push my way through the crowds. It’s busier than usual.
Carter’s sister has been working here for years, and thanks to Juliet, we’ve got our very own Campus Drivers table.
My buddies are right where they always are at the far end of the room, and as I stride over to join them, I realize they’re all looking in the same direction.
I can’t see Carrie at the table, and I fight back a flicker of concern. I hope she hasn’t left already.
Lane shifts in his seat, reaching for his glass, locking eyes with me as I pick my way through the crowd. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, but there’s a look on his face that I don’t like. He laughs, elbowing Lois and pointing to the right. I follow his gaze.
Being as tall as I am, it doesn’t take much craning to see what’s happening over there by the bar.
Carrie? I start. It’s fucking Carrie!
I freeze. Suddenly, Lewis’s message makes a whole lot more sense.
Change of plan. I swing a right, heading straight for my new target, and all that second-guessing goes flying out the window.
There she is, dancing with some tall, dumb-looking dude.
My heart is pounding, my jealousy blinding.
I want to grab that chair and smash it over his head.
Maybe that asshole is picking up on the negative vibes flowing his way, because he bends down to whisper something into Carrie’s ear, and he breaks off to sit next to Lois, who ruffles his hair.
All I feel is total betrayal.
“Don!”
As if by magic, Lane and Lewis are suddenly right there in front of me, each with a hand on my shoulders. They’re talking, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Carrie.
“You seem a little tense, buddy.” Lewis pulls a faux-concerned face.
“Who the fuck’s that guy?” I hiss.
“That’s Jeff. He’s cool.”
Slowly, my gaze settles back on Lewis, my friend. Make that my ex-friend.
“Him and Carrie just clicked.”
I’m gonna kill that Jeff guy.
Lewis and Lane are still clutching my shoulders, bracing against my weight, when Lois pushes her way between us.
“What is going on here?” She glances back and forth from me to Lane.
“Donny’s jealous,” he says calmly.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Jealous of who? Jeff?”
“Yup!” Lewis beams. “We just saved your little bro’s life, by the way. You owe me big time.”
“Her brother?” I’m so confused right now.
“Oh, I guess we forgot to tell you.” Lane pinches my cheek affectionately. “You can relax, Don. Jeff is eighteen. He literally had to get in with a fake ID. And trust me—he knows Carrie’s taken.”
He winks at me.
How does he even know I’m interested? I glance at him warily. It makes sense, though—I knew he was into Lois way before he admitted it.
I turn to Lois. “He’s your brother?”
She nods, eyes sparkling, and my nerves settle. I had forgotten all about Lois’s adopted brothers, but now I remember. Lane told us all about them.
“Go get your girl back,” Lewis says, releasing my arm. “She’s kinda tipsy, and she just took off her sweater.”
I turn to look, and my heart skips a beat. What the fuck is she doing?
Carrie is standing on the little stage at the back of the room, swaying from side to side, alone—for now. A couple of guys are staring at her, though.
Shakira’s voice is booming through the speakers, and Carrie’s hips are getting some major airtime—her hips rolling to the beat, her bare stomach rippling under the lights. I’ve never seen that micro-tee before. I like it.
“Carrie!”
I yell over the music, but she’s totally oblivious to me. I need to get her off that stage before I get myself arrested.
“I’ll be back,” I tell my friends, taking a deep breath in.
“Her hair is insane,” Lewis says.
I turn back to Carrie. I hadn’t even realized. I peer into the darkness, and it hits me. So many times, I’ve wondered what it looks like loose, but I couldn’t have expected this. Soft honey curls shot through with gold, tumbling down to skim her ass. I’m done for. She’s stunning.
Right from the start, everything has been upside down with her. I fell for her personality first, and only now am I fully realizing just how beautiful she is.
“We’ll be back,” I say again.
I hop onto the platform and head straight for her at the exact same moment someone else gets the same idea. He spots me behind Carrie and backs away immediately. Smart move, buddy.
I’m standing behind her, watching her move.
“I didn’t know you could dance, Shakarrie,” I tease at her back.
She turns around slowly. The urge to kiss her hits me so violently I have to pinch my lips together. Her eyes are sparkling; Lewis said she was “tipsy,” but her blood alcohol level seems a little higher than that.
“Wolinski!” She starts shimmying toward me. “Sooo? How was date night? Where’s your boo?”
As she wiggles her way across the stage, arms windmilling, I can’t help but laugh. When she tries gliding past me, I grab her by the elbow and pull her in to face me.
“She went home after dinner.”
“So, no spilled milk?”
“She’s lactose intolerant.” I shrug. “I’m guessing that’s a sign.”
Carrie bursts out laughing, blowing a lock of hair out of her face.
I wince. “Strawberry tequila?”
“It’s a classic! That was just the last shot, though.”
“Right. Come on, let’s get you back to the table.” I try nudging her.
She leans back a little, giving me a slow once-over. She nods approvingly at my beige pants and blue shirt, until her gaze stops on my chest. Her nose wrinkles, and a disembodied groan leaves her mouth.
“So, you did wear a tie, after all. I hate it.”
And with that, she takes off across the stage again, shaking her shoulders and wriggling her hips like I’m not even there. I look like an asshole, just standing here like a statue—but there’s no way I’m leaving her here alone. Could I just throw her over my shoulder?
She keeps throwing glances my way, stepping forward then back, like she can’t decide whether she wants to get close to me or not.
She makes up her mind on the chorus and loops her arms around my neck. My hands find her hips and follow their slow, sensual movements. I have this furious urge to kiss her again and bury my nose in her curls.
Her fingers brush the nape of my neck. “So, what’s your backup plan?”
You, I think. Just you. I stare down into her face. She has no idea what she does to me.
“I think I’ll stick to theory, for now.”
“What a waste of time, huh?”
“I’ll do better next time, I swear.”
She thinks for a moment, and I wish I knew what was going on in her head. I wish she’d tell me she never wants me to take another girl to dinner ever again.
She slides her hands up to my collar and slowly starts loosening my tie. I only wore it to piss her off, and I’m getting a kick out of watching her fumble with the knot. I never would’ve guessed it would be her hands on it tonight—but as it turns out, that’s exactly how I wanted it.
Once she’s tugged it loose, she keeps hold of both ends of the tie, moving in time with the song, stepping back and near strangling me as she twirls one way and then the next.
I drop my head and duck under the loop, grabbing her by the waist and hoisting her over my shoulder, feeling her wriggle like crazy while she sings along with Shakira at the top of her lungs. Is the DJ doing this on purpose?
“ ‘Whenever… Wherever…!’ ”
The gang gives her a standing ovation as I stagger to the table.
“Hard night, huh?”
Lewis pulls out a chair, and I dump Carrie into the seat.
“Tell me about it.”
“Hey, you! I’m a free woman!” Carrie screeches, nearly poking Lewis’s eye out.
“Sure you are, Ms. Wolinski,” Lewis says, patting her on the head. “I never doubted it.”
He shoots me a “Good luck with that” kind of look. He has no idea how right he is, but I’m a stubborn guy when there’s a challenge to take on.