5. Making Excuses
FIVE
Making Excuses
SHANNON
“Three classes,” Shannon announced, closing the door to her dorm room. “He’s either bailed on three classes in a row because he can’t stand my face, which doesn’t seem like him, or he dropped the class because, also, he can’t stand my face.”
Three classes missed meant that the gray T-shirt he offered as a replacement for her still-damp tank top had been wadded up under her desk for almost a week. She flopped down in her chair and shoved her backpack under the desk, hiding it from view. His button-down shirt bore the brunt of the beer spill that night, and his dry T-shirt landed on a chair in the dark bedroom. When he popped it over her head hours later, he kissed her so sweetly she nearly forgot the sleeves. Lost in his lips for the thousandth time, she didn’t even notice the conference champions football logo on the front.
Apparently Fate was giving out souvenir T-shirts, like a sick joke.
“I like how you know what ‘seems like him’ now,” Elouise said without looking up from her textbook. She tucked her long, dark hair behind her ears. “I’m not so concerned about the whereabouts of guys I hate, and I have a few.”
“I’m glad he’s not there. I don’t want the bad vibes.”
“You keep saying that to convince yourself.” Elouise fought a laugh. “Shan. Admit it. You like him. Have you grilled Missy yet, to see if he’s as bad as you think?”
She’d ditched their last two lunch dates and had nearly run out of excuses.
“Even if Missy says he’s not that bad after all, Elle, he knows about what happened with Hayden. You should have seen his face when he put it all together. There’s no chance. So who cares if Missy was wrong about him?”
“You need to talk to him.”
“It blew up before I got his number. I can’t.”
“Which is why you wish he’d come back to class.” Elouise smiled in triumph. “But if he dropped the class, at least Missy can give you his number if you ask nicely.”
She would, perhaps, but Shannon’s chest grew tight at the thought of asking her cousin for her despised ex’s phone number so she could explain a web of lies—all in hopes that she could fall back into that same despised ex’s arms and believe in love again. Missy believed in love and was desolate when Shannon and Hayden broke up. She was a sap for true love and big rings and babies, in the proper order, and dreamed of those things with Caleb until he ruined that, too.
Shannon stood and paced the small dorm room as she ticked thoughts on her fingers. “I can’t tell Caleb why I scared the hell out of Hayden on purpose,” she said. “If I told him, he might not see it how you and I do, and he’d tell someone. Hayden knows the information we have so far, but I don’t think he has any idea I’m still digging.” She looked at her hand: three fingers, three thoughts. “That last one is a guess. But we could lose the ground we’ve gained.”
“Maybe you explain it to Caleb and he understands,” Elouise countered. “Maybe he hates Hayden’s guts and agrees he deserves it. Then you guys can despise him together forever.”
“Those guys don’t hate him.” She snorted a quick laugh. “You saw them all screaming for him and crashing helmets like crazy men. The locker room brotherhood, he called it.”
“Hayden told you a lot of things that were untrue,” Elouise said, suddenly serious. “And he’s shown that whole team a farce of who he is for years. Maybe it took you a little while to see it, and maybe it will take them a while too. But people like him will always be exposed. Why not do it now? If you’re going to blow up the guy’s life, just do it.”
Shannon held up a fourth finger. “Because I don’t have enough to do it right. I can pull this off this if it’s for justice, otherwise, it’s just revenge. Justice requires evidence, and I need more.”
“Caleb Fields? My Caleb Fields?” Missy shrieked. Heads turned at nearby tables as Shannon shushed her. She didn’t need her cousin screaming the star defensive back’s name and drawing attention in the cafe.
“I don’t think he belongs to anyone these days,” Shannon said.
Wide-eyed, Missy took it in. “And you slept with him.”
“I did. ”
“You know how much I loved him, and everything he?—”
Shannon sighed, blushing. “I didn’t know it was him.”
“How many guys on campus are built like that and named Caleb Fields? It’s not like you could mix him up with some other guy with the same name.”
“Yeah but… Okay, it’s weird, but I didn’t know his name when we… got together.”
She ducked instinctively. It all sounded so different in harsh daylight, and her words hung in the air as she waited for her cousin to react.
Missy leaned forward and pushed her ash blonde hair out of her face. “You slept with a stranger whose name you did not know, and it happened to be my Caleb.”
“He’s not yours.”
“He was, and that should matter to you at least as much as this slutty hookup of yours. What did you do?”
“What did I do?” Shannon swept aside her shame and bristled. “We kissed at a party and things escalated. It’s not like we didn’t talk first or anything.” Before, during, after. She blushed bright pink.
“But somehow you didn’t know his name.” Missy turned her head to the ceiling, asking for an explanation from above. “Did that mess with Hayden break you so badly you’ve stooped to one-night stands with total strangers?”
What Hayden had to say about their breakup might never have left the locker room, and she was surprised it even went that far. Missy was dear to her, but uninvolved. Shannon told only Elouise. To everyone else, Hayden was a lousy boyfriend and a nasty breakup. That was it.
“I thought Caleb and I sort of had something. There was a real connection. I don’t know how to describe it, but he didn’t feel like a stranger.”
Again, it sounded different in daylight. She pinched herself under the table to keep from crumbling in a moment of self-pity.
“Listen to yourself.” Missy groaned. “Next you’re going to tell me it’s destiny and he’s the only one for you, forever.”
“Maybe he still is, if you’ll give me his number.”
Missy had to be lying. Or exaggerating. There had to be a reason she should storm out of the cafe and start knocking on doors to find him. Fate might not be done yet. Maybe Caleb could get over what she did to Hayden and would understand why. Maybe she’d camp out near the fitness and conditioning center that belonged to the football program. Maybe she’d beg Missy again for his number, and when she had it, she’d tell her cousin that bitterness didn’t do her perfect complexion any favors.
She could ask Paige or Nina to get his number. Paige’s best friend was on the team. But he was the left guard, which meant he protected the quarterback and would remember every awful thing Hayden said about her. Besides, she’d practically dumped Paige and Nina and so many other old friends when she gave all her time to Hayden. They wouldn’t help.
Missy was closer to than her own sister, who was five years older. Their fathers were brothers and not especially close, but their mothers loved one another dearly. The miles between Sauganac, Michigan and Cincinnati, Ohio, blurred beneath their wheels on long weekends and vacations when Shannon and Missy were dressed alike for photos, two little blonde girls in braids. Teen years, differing interests, and weekend extracurriculars caused a natural drift but didn’t extinguish the warmth between them until Shannon broke up with the most eligible bachelor on campus and—in Missy’s opinion, anyway—completely lost her mind.
“You need someone to balance all your moody, emo stuff lately,” Missy said. “Let me fix you up with one of William’s friends. Caleb Fields is the grumpiest guy I know. And he’s been through a lot, but God, he’s a crab. I’ve known him most of my life. He’s a spoiled rich kid who never takes responsibility for anything. He’s just like his brothers.” She shook her head. “You dodged a bullet. Maybe I did, too.”
Caleb’s words echoed— Ask her why. Go ahead. From the flush in her cheeks, Missy was obviously infuriated, and Shannon didn’t want to make it worse. She dug for something positive. “He wasn’t a crab with me,” she said. “And I don’t have emo issues.”
“Whatever you call it.” Missy dismissed her with a wave. “You had a bad breakup and now you’ve got blue hair and you started wearing… whatever you’re wearing. Combat boots.”
“They’re motorcycle boots, and they’re cute.” Shannon poked her foot out from under the table and smiled at the wink of the silver buckles on the black leather.
“Well, Caleb’s crabby ass isn’t going to make the past disappear and bring you back to normal hair and clothes.”
“I like my hair and clothes, and I wish you’d stop harping on me for that. Why does it matter if I want to try a new look?”
“It’s just not like you.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be like the old me anymore. Like Caleb, because really, he wasn’t a grump,” Shannon insisted, wheedling for a favorable turn in the conversation. “He was a little shy, but he was sweet and funny. He’s considerate and affectionate?—”
“Maybe it was just an act to get you in bed. You obviously fell for it, and now you’re here for information. What do you want to know?”
Shannon breathed deeply as she folded her hands on the table. “I want to know if all that stuff you told me when you visited last summer was true. You told me your ex-boyfriend was going to be in school with us, and you talked about some things to do with your relationship… and about what he and his brothers did.”
Missy’s tone softened. “Shan. It’s true, and I have no reason to lie to you about that,” she said. “Why would I lie?”
“Because it’s a highly charged emotional topic, and you wanted someone to justify your choices?”
“That’s just rude.”
“I don’t understand how the guy you knew and the guy I met match up. He’s nothing like anything you said.”
“Well, I don’t understand how you look all dopey about him. He stood up for someone who assaulted his girlfriend,” Missy said. “And it wasn’t ‘alleged’ or anything. Everyone knew. And she was our classmate. She was our friend, and Caleb still stood up for the guy who hurt her. Come on, Shannon. Do you want to be with someone like that? You know better.”
There it was. The truth, in a sickening statement that scraped her throat raw when she tried to breathe. She hoped she’d misremembered, or that Missy was still mad about how they broke up and exaggerated some painful memories. The realization that her sweet, funny Mystery Boy had been part of something like that jabbed at her painful memories, an elbow to the ribs.
There it was.
Lust was nothing special. Fate was a slutty hookup she tried to rationalize with a mystical connection, just like Missy said. The buttoned-up boy with the chaotic hair was a trick question on an exam—pick the guy least likely to break your heart, and don’t choose Option C.
“Look, I’ll give you his number if you want it. You’re a big girl. You decide what to do with it.”
Shannon didn’t speak.
Missy placed her phone on the table.
The thought of Delilah Pope, who she hardly knew but would never forget, steeled Shannon’s resolve. She didn’t want any temptation to compromise the plan to get Hayden what he deserved, for Delilah’s sake more than her own. And, however disgusting it felt still clinging to her skin like the dregs of the beer she spilled, the night with Caleb was nothing short of magical. She didn’t want to cheapen the experience any more by capping it with excuses. They played a silly game and made a painful mistake. With the truth out in the open, Missy was right: Shannon knew better.