Chapter 2

 

 

As James Campbell entered the frat house he was living in, he wasn’t surprised to find a few of his frat brothers sitting in the spacious living room, engrossed in some sort of first-person shooter video game, cheering each other on. The noise level was ear-splitting.

He left his laptop bag on an empty chair and walked over to the couch, where two of his pals were sitting, trying to slaughter each other while five others watched the spectacle, sitting or standing around the couch.

James crossed his arms in front of his chest as he observed the scene, answering his buddies’ hellos with a nod. He didn’t want to go all-out mother hen on them, but his spirits sank as he surveyed the incredible mess around the gigantic living room. The time-honored dwelling of their esteemed fraternity, which had been on this site since the founding of the university in 1891, was a detached building with an old stone façade, high ceilings, precious wood floors, and a proud tradition of accommodating the members of Alpha Phi. If its current dwellers didn’t treat the house with a little more respect and care, however, it would soon have to be refurbished. Only two weeks ago, there had been a general meeting to address this particular issue, since there had recently been a slew of repairs required for damages caused by the party animals currently living there.

Even James’s dad, who’d been a member of Alpha Phi himself when he was a student, had asked James about the issue when they’d last spoken on the phone. Even the alumni were concerned about the state of the house.

Being a member of an elite fraternity like Alpha Phi did not only come with perks and advantages—it also meant you had duties, which his dad had stressed more than once as he’d exhorted his son to make sure he and his pals didn’t tear the old place apart. Since that call, James’s face had darkened whenever he set foot in the house and found dirty dishes in the sink, overflowing garbage cans, or torn-off door knobs. The regular parties always left a trail of devastation.

Today was no exception. The living room looked disgusting, with stacks of pizza boxes and assorted garbage strewn across coffee tables, dressers, and the floor. Although James didn’t think he was particularly anal about stuff like this, he was beginning to become annoyed. He’d only moved in a few months ago—after being accepted into Alpha Phi—but sometimes he yearned to be back in his quiet dorm room.

“Hey, man! You up for a round at the stick, Campbell? I’m off on a date soon. You can take over.”

James made a face as he studied his buddy Toby, who lounged on the couch in sweatpants—with more than two days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks. His eyes were glued to the gigantic screen as he tortured the controller like a twitching madman.

“A date?” James asked skeptically as he leaned one hip against a table covered in garbage. “If it isn’t a date with a crime scene investigator, I’d recommend you take a shower first. You smell like a skunk.”

One of the guys behind the couch laughed. “Seriously, Toby, if you want to score with Hailey, you really should take a shower.”

“Yeah, dude, you smell like a dead buffalo.”

Though James was certain none of the men present knew what a dead buffalo smelled like, he didn’t say anything, because he didn’t want to prolong this discussion of his frat brother’s hygiene. Instead, he asked, “Hailey? I thought you were hooking up with that girl from the philosophy department. What was her name again?”

“Annie.” Toby gave him a lazy, meaningful grin but didn’t stop trying to score in his current game. “Annie and I are over.”

James stuck out his chin. “Since when?”

“Since their last date,” Toby’s opponent, Chris, informed him. “She and Toby did it in his car last Sunday.”

James wrinkled his nose. “What, were you there or something, Chris?” he asked caustically. “How come you’re so well-informed?”

Chris didn’t reply, but Toby piped up again. “No need to be jealous, James. You can still get on board and join in the bet.”

James frowned dismissively. “No, thanks.” At the start of the semester, Toby had vowed to screw more freshmen than any other Alpha Phi. Normally, James was up for the jokes and pranks—taking part in the drinking games and stupid bets. Heck, at the end of the last semester, he’d made good on a gambling debt by delivering a towering stack of pizzas to a sorority house—wearing nothing but his shoes. Things like that could be fun…but sleeping with a lot of girls just to win a twelve-pack of beer was taking it a bit too far for him.

Toby shrugged one shoulder. “Your loss … There are a few real beauties in the new supply.”

“And that’s reason enough to break up with Annie?”

His pal groaned. “No offense to her.” He chewed his lower lip in concentration. “She’s a nice enough girl and all, but I have to live up to my reputation.”

“Right,” James said flatly.

As he moved to grab his laptop back and head up to his room, Chris asked, “What’s going on with you, James? No dates since Eve?”

James wasn’t thrilled that Chris had to bring her up, but he shouldered his bag and cleared his throat. “Nope, I haven’t been on any dates since her.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Toby ventured. “After you were through with that slut, you should have gotten back in the saddle right away, had some fun.”

“Thanks for that truly enlightening advice.” James shook his head. “I’m heading upstairs now. Could you clean up this mess when you’re done here?”

Unfortunately, Toby didn’t get the hint—or just chose to ignore it. “Didn’t I tell you right from the start that Eve was a slut?”

“You told me she was hot and I should definitely sleep with her,” James reminded him as he stacked a few pizza boxes one the table by the door. “Clean up this damn mess before we have to call the exterminator.”

Ignoring their laughter, he left the living room and climbed the stairs, which creaked under his feet. As he dodged an overflowing laundry basket, he wondered why students were so eager to be accepted into a frat, when you could end up bunking in a genuine pigsty with vandals, hoarders, and slobs.

On top of that, those animals might very likely constantly ask about your botched love life.

When James reached the second floor, where his room was located, another frat brother shuffled past him in his boxers, talking loudly into his phone. Then he passed an open door, from which heavy metal music was blaring. Annoyed, James disappeared into his own room, banging the door shut with a little too much force.

He could have done without that reminder of Eve, especially today, when James had come home in high spirits after meeting a fellow student who couldn’t have been any nicer, prettier, or more likable.

He felt a cloak of resignation settle over him as he set down his bag, threw himself onto the bed, crossed his hands behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling.

His buddies might not think it a big deal that Eve had been a scheming bitch—they shrugged their shoulders and dismissed the fact that she’d lied to James and faked affection—but he couldn’t forget the feeling of being taken for a fool. Granted, he hadn’t been deeply in love with Eve or anything like that, but he’d genuinely liked her. They’d gone out often and had sex on a regular basis. Maybe it hadn’t been a serious relationship, but they had been a couple of sorts. At least, that was what he’d thought.

When he’d found out she’d only been interested in him because his father was Archibald Scott Campbell, one of the wealthiest men in Virginia, James had to come to terms with the fact that she’d only ever pretended to like him. And that realization—that someone would fake affection for you because your family had money—had felt absolutely shitty.

He’d broken up with her shortly before the last semester had ended. The fact that he hadn’t been on a date since then had nothing to do with being heartbroken. He simply hadn’t met anyone who’d left the impression of being genuine, honest, and straightforward.

Until today.

A smile started playing on his lips when he thought of Barbara. He’d spent almost three hours with her this afternoon, sitting in that café and talking. His original plan had been to go to the gym after class and do a few rounds on the rowing machine, but after he’d looked into her green eyes and seen her wide smile, he’d not only lost track of time, but also changed his mind about the need for exercise. So, instead of working up a sweat at the gym, he’d sat in the old armchair across from her, drank one cup of coffee after another, and studied every facet of her face and expression while she talked.

The tiny young woman, with the elfin frame and pretty face, had ruled out any possibility of sustaining a coherent thought. James had wanted to appear smart and funny, but instead, he’d spouted some bull about clown college. He was sure she’d only joined in his laughter out of pity.

He wanted to kick himself for acting like a preteen talking to a girl for the very first time. Barbara probably thought him a simpleton, even though she’d given him her number and allowed him to walk her all the way to her dorm—since she still didn’t trust her sense of direction. James had gladly shown her the way. He would have loved to spend even more time with her.

Now he lay on his bed, doing his best to ignore the strains of a Metallica song that was making his skull vibrate, and forbidding himself from pulling out his phone and calling her. It hadn’t even been an hour since they’d parted ways. If he called her now, she’d probably call campus security and report him as a stalker.

James left his phone in his pocket but wondered whether texting her tomorrow before breakfast would be too early.

 

 

***

 

 

As James left the lecture hall, he was no longer thinking about the potential economic consequences of an outbreak of war in central Europe. Rather, he was feverishly pondering whether to call Barbara or not. Although this was the class that would end with an infamously difficult (and, thus, dreaded) exam, he’d had an extremely hard time concentrating on his professor’s words, even though the man was a luminary in his field. James had sat through the lecture with his mind elsewhere, glancing at the clock and calculating how many hours had passed since his afternoon with Barbara in the café. By no means did he want to appear desperate, but neither did he care for this silly waiting period before you could “safely” call according to etiquette.

He sighed as he stepped out onto the courtyard in front of the School of Economics, shading his eyes from the bright sun with his hand. He walked down the steps to the lower lawn, where ancient trees threw cool shade across the grass.

His buddies would probably have laughed their asses off if they’d known James had spent the preceding evening staring at his phone and waiting for a call from a woman. And he couldn’t have said why he couldn’t stop thinking about her, for he’d never felt this way before—this feeling of restlessly waiting for a message, some sign from her, while a strange weight settled in his stomach at the thought of her. It’d been different with his high school girlfriends. They’d been the ones chasing after him, while James hadn’t felt any particular yearning for them at all, if he was quite honest with himself. Even with Eve, he’d never waited nervously for her to text him or anything. She’d been there, or she hadn’t been, and it hadn’t made much of a difference to him.

But now, a girl he barely knew, a girl he’d only met yesterday, had him all scatterbrained and fidgety. He was beginning to think he’d lost his mind.

Engrossed in these thoughts, he crossed the crisp lawn and almost stumbled over the very object of his thoughts. Barbara was sitting in the shade of a tree, reading a book.

Perplexed, James stopped in his tracks and stared down at the top of her head as she slowly tilted it back and blinked up at him. Just as he’d done moments earlier, she lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the bright sunlight darting through the canopy of leaves above her.

“Barbara?” James took a deep breath and, before he had time to think it through, admitted: “I was just thinking about you.”

Now she was surely going to think he was a stalker, he thought, as she studied him with a look of surprise on her face. But less than a second later, she gave him a soft smile. “To be honest, I was thinking about you, as well.”

“Really?” James shifted his weight and studied the heart-shaped face with the lovely mouth, a breathless sensation in his throat.

“Yes,” she confirmed with a mischievous grin, before closing the book in her lap and holding it up for him to see. “I really have a thing for thrillers and such,” she said apologetically, “and I’m reading Stephen King’s It.”

James pretended to be horrified. “You’re reading a horror story, and it made you think of me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She rolled her eyes in amusement. “You are aware this is a book about a clown, aren’t you? After you suggested clown college yesterday, it would be strange if it didn’t make me think of you.”

“But it wasn’t a serious suggestion,” James clarified. “So I’m still not sure whether to be flattered or offended. It is a really bloodthirsty clown, after all.”

Barbara beamed up at him. Her brown hair was braided into a girly ’do that made her look even younger, and she wore a short-sleeved shirt in pastel plaid, together with khaki shorts and pretty sandals. “I love this book!” she gushed. “It’s so much better than the movie.”

James raised his eyebrows. “You really like Stephen King?”

She wasn’t embarrassed at all as she nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely! I actually read a lot of thrillers and horror.”

“So you love bloodthirsty stories and gore?”

Barbara wrinkled her nose as she looked up at him. “Surprised?”

“A little,” James admitted.

“You think women shouldn’t read thrillers?”

The defensive tone in her voice made him grin. “I’m just surprised that we seem to like the same books. Stephen King’s my favorite author.”

“Really?” Her green eyes widened. “What’s your favorite book of his?”

“Hmm.” James gazed into the distance as he pondered that. “I guess that would be Misery.”

“Misery?” Her guffawing reply made his stomach feel all warm suddenly. “Don’t tell me you liked the movie with Kathy Bates!”

“Like it? I watch it every Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas Eve?” Her gleeful laughter made him smile even more.

When she’d finished laughing, her eyes still glittered. “Why don’t you sit down, James? I’m getting a stiff neck staring up at you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He sat in the grass next to her, entirely forgetting his meeting with the debate club.

“Alright,” she said. “What could make someone watch a movie like Misery on Christmas Eve?”

Relaxed and at ease, he leaned back and looked into her face. “Don’t you think it’s a typical Christmas movie? With the snow-covered landscape …”

“And the psychopathic woman shattering a man’s bones so she can lock him up in her house. One hundred percent holiday spirit.”

He had a hard time not staring at her inviting mouth. “Hey, at least it ends well, doesn’t it? Total happy ending right there.”

“I think you and I have a different idea of what constitutes a happy ending.” She giggled. “At home, we celebrate Christmas with a tree, some punch, way too much food … and then we watch The Grinch.”

“Ha!” He lifted his chin triumphantly. “I would argue that The Grinch is far less Christmas-y than Misery. The Grinch is an evil, green monster who wants to steal Christmas!”

“But in this case, all is well in the end,” Barbara pointed out.

“The same applies to Misery. And it even snows at the end!”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what? This isn’t right …”

“What?”

She shook her head. “We’re sitting here at the end of summer, discussing movies we like to watch at Christmas. That’s just a little … uh …”

“Weird?” he suggested.

“Very weird,” Barbara agreed, showing two rows of white teeth.

James leaned on his hands in the grass and studied her intently. “Now that we’ve established that we both have weird taste in movies, I’d be interested to hear what else you like to do—apart from your fascination with clowns, that is.”

Barbara crossed her ankles, thereby directing James’s attention to her slim legs. They were damned fine legs, he’d give her that.

“I’m going to ignore your jab about clowns,” she said with a wink, her fingers playing with the corners of the cover of her book. “Also, I think you’re the one with weird taste in movies, James.”

“The verdict’s still out on that one.” Though he sensed he was rushing things, he said nonchalantly, “It seems we should watch Misery together, so I can see whether you enjoy it or not.”

“I never said I didn’t like it. I just wondered at your habit of watching it at Christmastime.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m weird,” James said with an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “But back to my original question: What do you do when you’re not reading King or trying to find your way across campus?”

“Thanks to your improved map, I made it to my first lecture on time and without any problems today,” she declared with a satisfied grin. “Here’s hoping that I’ve moved past the days of pointless wandering.”

“And there you have it: economics students are good for something,” he declared.

“Oh, my brother’s an economics major too, so I think in general you’re a nice enough bunch. A little overbearing maybe,” she added with a smirk, “but nice enough.”

“Phew.” He wiped his brow in a show of relief. “Am I glad to hear that.”

“You should be.” Barbara pressed her lips together. “And to answer your question: When I’m not reading about blood and gore, or running back and forth across campus, I enjoy playing sports.”

“Ah.” He gave her a curious look. “So you’re the athletic type.”

“I guess you could put it that way.”

Was he imagining it, or was she blushing under his interested gaze?

“Don’t leave me hanging here,” James teased good-naturedly. “What kinds of sports do you play?”

Barbara lifted her chin and squinted at him. “You’re sort of nosy.”

“Hey.” He turned his head in all directions. “We’re sitting here in the middle of what’s probably the most beautiful campus on the West Coast, enjoying wonderful weather. A little tasteful conversation is the least I can do, considering I’m trying to ease you into Stanford life.”

“Ooh. First you play tour guide, and now you’re promoting ‘tasteful conversation’?” Barbara let out an appreciative whistle. “I’m beginning to suspect you’re up to mischief.” She smiled. “I play tennis, I ski, and I like to hike.”

James squinted right back at her. “Would you believe me if I told you those are my favorite things to do, too?”

Her laughter was like a high, clear bell, and it invaded every inch of James’s body.

“Actually, James, I don’t believe a single word you say.”

He grinned, unfazed. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll challenge you to a tennis match.”

“A match?”

“Or two, if you want,” James said casually, and then he felt a strange giddiness at the sight of the faint blush on her cheeks.