CHAPTER FIVE
ELLE
Thanksgiving Day was a black hole and nothing escaped its vacuous force. Not my emotions, not my family, and not even my friends. I’d ended up stopping by the dorms, convinced I could ride out the pity-storm alone in my room with a good book. But there was no amount of literature or steamy love scenes on a dirty, sexy island that could stop the crazy train inside my head. It had left the station, Ozzy at the helm, determined to arrive at its destination: truth.
Henry had shattered the fragile barrier separating my two worlds, and then my brain did the rest. I was no longer able to compartmentalize my fears or sorrow, and worst of all, I realized I was a giant hypocrite. I’d told my dad to face the truth, yet I wasn’t able or willing to do it myself.
Now the train of truth is moving full steam ahead, barreling over everything in its path. Which was why I’d found myself driving to Tass’s house on Thanksgiving evening and collapsing in hysterics in her front yard.
God, what Hunter must think of me. Or Tass’s family. Snot had been flying, hiccups exploding, tears gushing. I was a mess. I think it’s called an emotional breakdown, Elle?
Tass then gave me lots of water, put me in her bed, and curled up with me. The next morning we decamped for the dorms, and I could barely face her family, who, to their credit, just kept hugging me and telling me that it would all be okay.
It won’t, of course. But that’s my reality to face.
Anyway, it’s been five days since I hit the muddy layer of silt lying over rock bottom. The only thing that gives me comfort is knowing I can’t sink much lower.
“Hi, Elle!” Tass bolts through the door of our dorm room, which reminds me of a sad gray cloud. No amount of decorating can overcome the stained gray carpets and ugly brown furniture, not even our brightly colored bedding and nerd-girl posters.
“Guess who I just ran into?” She pants her words, like she’s run all the way here.
I glance up from my bed, where I’m sitting in my favorite orange PJs with my back against the headboard, my history book propped on my lap. Tass is wearing a Pirates sweatshirt—XL, so I know it’s Hunter’s—and has her dark curly hair in a ponytail.
“Santa?” I reply. “He’s come early and decided to put me out of my misery before Christmas arrives?” I still haven’t spoken to my father. I just don’t know what to say. Somehow “sorry” doesn’t feel adequate.
“Dork!” Tassie snorts. “I saw Henry. In fact, he’s standing right outside and wants to know if it’s safe to come in and see you.”
I huff. He’s the last person I ever want to see. “Uhh…that would be a no. Tell the Jolly Mean Giant to shoo.”
Tass lifts her dark brows. “Oh, come on. He didn’t know about your mom, Elle. At least talk to him—let him grovel a little.”
“Nope. I’m good.” I pretend to go back to my reading, but really I’m thinking about my pulse. It’s going warp speed, and I’m not sure if it’s because Henry is standing outside, likely looking his usual hot self, or because Henry is standing outside and I’m mad at him.
“Elle,” Tass sits on the edge of my bed, “I think you’re making a mistake. You need a little fun in your life right now, and he really seems to like you. At least I assume so since he’s standing out in the hallway, holding a giant teddy bear while random people walk by, snickering at him.”
A mental image of Henry—big, huge, manly, muscled Henry with a perma-five o’clock shadow—holding a big fuzzy bear pops into my head. I bet he looks kind of cute.
No. He looks desperate.
“Come on, Elle. Give him a chance.” Tassie bats her hopeful blue eyes at me.
“You just want me to date him because now you’re dating Hunter and you don’t want to go alone to all his football thingys.” Hunter is the star quarterback, and it’s no secret that his choice to date Tassie will cause a little controversy. She’s a diehard nerd like me and is not ashamed to show it. For example, she attended the game yesterday, where Henry did not play. Not that I care. But Tassie was there, wearing a big orange traffic cone on her head. She said that it would make Hunter laugh every time he looked at her, and since laughter is scientifically proven to boost cerebral function and physical stamina, he would play a perfect game. He did.
“Thingys?” she asks. “They’re called games, and yes. Selfishly, I’d love to have you there because I like you, but not for any other reason than that. I’m fine hanging out with the Gamma Nus. They’re actually lots of fun!”
The Gammas are the cheerleader sorority. Tassie, of all people, made friends with a few of them after discovering they actually have brains and aren’t nearly half as snobby as the Kappa Kappa Kappas—the nerd-girl sorority, or as I like to call them, the Sisterhood of Intellectual Nazis because they hate anyone who’s not a card-carrying member of Mensa. We almost joined, but then realized we were too socially evolved and didn’t appreciate them telling us we couldn’t date football players.
Not that I want to. I’m so over Henry.
“Tell him to go,” I grumble. “I’m not interested in being his sex toy.”
“Actually, that’s not quite accurate. You’re going to love this.” Tassie hops up and bounces over to her own bed to fully face me like it’s story time. Her bed is covered with a huge pile of clean clothes she washed over at her parents’ last week. Since she’s been sleeping over at Hunter’s place (which is really Henry’s off-campus man-palace that he shares with Hunter and two other guys), she hasn’t had the need to fold. I’d talk to her about it, but I’ve got bigger problems. And it makes it easier for me to steal her clean socks because I haven’t had time to wash my own.
She continues, her pale face a bright shade of giddy, “Okay. Ready for this? Because when I heard, I got all gooey inside. It’s just that adorable.”
“What?” I snap, growing impatient.
“It has to do with the real reason Henry came to see you on Thanksgiving. He—” Her cell buzzes in her jeans pocket. “Oh, crap. Sorry. It’s my mom. I have to take this.” She pulls out the device and answers. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” Tass heads outside to talk, closing the door behind her. Why everyone goes out there to have private conversations is beyond me, but I expect her to return right away, and she doesn’t.
Whattheheck? Did she really just leave me hanging like that?
My mind instantly hops, skips and jumps to the worst possible conclusion. Something’s happened. Something bad.
I get up to check the hallway and immediately encounter a furry orange wall blocking my entire doorway.
“Hello there, princess.” Henry peeks over the top of the biggest orange teddy bear I’ve ever seen. With the way he’s holding the thing and his height, I feel like I’m being invaded by giant gummy bears.
“Henry,” I say, in a snit, “you still here?”
“Yep. And I’m not leaving until we talk.”
I shrug. “Sleep outside, then. No skin off my teeth.” I close the door in his bear’s face and grab my cell from my nightstand to text Tassie.
Me: What happened? U OK? Pls tell me no one died.
Sounds like a joke, but it’s not. I really hope nobody’s hurt, injured, or on life support. I’m hyper paranoid at this stage of my life, and lucky me, my brain is very efficient at throwing out all sorts of possible explanations for her sudden departure. Gas line explosion at her house, tornado, space aliens—oh, maybe Russians! Everyone knows how crazy those people are.
Tass: Everything’s fine! Forgot a book over in the science lab.
Huh. But she disappeared after that call with her mom, and it’s not like her to cut out on me in the middle of a serious conversation. She had been about to tell me why Henry came to my house last week.
Me: You sure?
Tass: All OK! Be back in a minute.
Humph! I set down my phone and stare at the ceiling for a moment. My gut tells me she’s lying.
Well, logic says that if something happened, I’ll find out soon enough.
A knock at the door quickly reminds me that I left Henry outside.
Jesus, buddy! I sigh and walk over, jerking open the door. “Take a hint! I’m not interested.”
But there’s no Henry. There’s just an orange bear propped up against the wall, sitting directly in front of the door.
I stare at its glassy blue goo-goo eyes and silly smile. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not coming in.” Even if orange is my favorite color, which Henry must’ve remembered.
The bear mocks me with his unshakable goofiness.
“Fine.” I point and shake my finger at him. “But you’re only staying until I can find you a suitable home.”
I pick the thing up and am immediately hit with the smell of Henry’s cologne. I’m suddenly unable to stop myself from burying my nose in the bear’s head and inhaling the sweet fresh scent that floods my mind with memories of holding Henry, of him touching me, of us lying in bed, laughing. My heart tightens around a hollowness inside it.
I look down and suddenly realize I’m standing in the middle of the hallway, sniffing a giant teddy bear. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?
Henry can’t change things with a stupid bear. We’re two different people. We always will be.
I set the bear back down in the hallway and return to my room.
HENRY
This is not failure. It’s just a setback. But like every determined athlete, perseverance is key.
I lean back in my computer chair—XXL and ergonomic, because I’m a big man who likes to take big care of himself—and stare at my computer screen, examining the play.
Yes, for fuck’s sake, I’ve created a game plan for Elle. I find organization is key and planning is essential.
I scratch my stubbled chin and reach for the mouse on my desk, clicking off the box on my screen.
Orange bear is a dud. I’ve only given a stuffed animal once in my life, and it got me laid. Five times. Five girls. Same time. Same night. That was my freshman year and taught me a valuable lesson: quality, not quantity. Guys get off on these fantasies of being the big stud, fucking a dozen women at once in an act of pure male showmanship. But unless you were born with twelve cocks, someone is bound to be left out in the cold. Then there’s the whole obstacle of most women taking much longer to come, which means that for them there’ll be a lot of waiting around. So while men can dream big, there’s no glory in going home with only half the job done. Point is, that night was a fail and so was the bear. Both are off the list for good.
I move to the next item on my list, a gem guaranteed to humiliate the hell out of me and convince Elle to forgive me—the first step in our possible reboot.
My finger hesitates on the mouse, urging me to skip this idea. It’s really, really going to make me look like an idiot if it doesn’t work.
No. Be strong, Henry. This one is a winner. No woman can resist such a powerful public display of affection.