What If (4 page)

I drag my feet to the kitchen, pulling a baseball hat low on my head.

“Man, you look like hell. What did you do last night?” Eric asks, perched on the counter, eating a bowl of cereal.

“I couldn’t sleep. I kept having these crazy dreams,” I tell him, trying to hold on to the broken images of the night I heard Nicole screaming at her parents. It’s slowly starting to come back to me, but not enough that I can make any sense out of it yet. “I need to get to campus to finish my accounting assignment before class.”

“Put an extra shot of espresso in your coffee.”

I cringe. “The last thing I woke up to was Carly pushing me into a swimming pool–sized cup of scalding coffee. I think I’ll pass.”

“Yeah, that’s going to last all of five minutes,” Eric scoffs.

Then he asks, “So the house is having a party Saturday. You want on the list?”

“I guess,” I mutter, not really caring about my weekend right now. “I’ll see you later.” I shove my arms in my jacket and grab my truck keys off the nail in the wall on my way out the door.

Ten minutes later, I’m suddenly aware that I’m driving to Bean Buzz. I’m on autopilot and don’t even realize where I’m going until I’m almost there.

I haven’t seen Nyelle in a week. And it’s not because I haven’t been looking. I don’t know where this girl goes. But it’s nowhere near where I am. I’m thinking she’s avoiding me.

So the last thing I expect to hear while standing in line for my coffee is, “Hi, Cal. Any chance I can get a ride with you today?”

I’m so tired I think I’m hearing things.

“Cal?”

I turn my head and find Nyelle looking at me oddly. “You okay?”

Maybe she’s not avoiding me.

“Oh, hey. Just need coffee,” I answer, inching forward in line. “Uh, yeah, I can give you a ride.”

“Great! Thanks,” she chirps and flops back down on the leather chair with an oversized coffee mug in her hands.

I step up to the counter. “Hey, Mel. Could I get an extra shot of espresso in my coffee?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead she looks at the cup she’s holding with my name scrawled on it and back at me with a deadly glare.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to throw you off.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,
Cal
,” she says without an ounce of sincerity, dropping my cup in the trash beside her. She nods to the pickup section of the counter, like she’s shunning me. She’s kinda freaking me out.

I step behind a guy in an overcoat and wait for my order. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had to wait. And I continue to wait even after the three people who were standing behind me in line pick up their drinks. Obviously, this is my punishment for not being predictable. Lesson learned.

When I finally walk away with my cup, Nyelle is standing behind me. “What took so long?”

“Don’t mess with Mel,” is my only response. “Are you ready?”

“Yup,” she answers. I realize she’s not carrying anything, unless it’s under her coat. And considering she’s wearing a huge down jacket that looks big enough for a pro-linebacker, that’s a possibility. The brown coat falls to her knees and covers her hands completely. Her arms swish when she walks, reminding me of the full-body snowsuits we wore when we were kids the few times a year it actually snowed in Renfield.

“What have you been up to?” I ask as we get in the truck, trying to sound casual but wanting to know where she keeps disappearing to and why I can’t find her.

“I don’t know,” she says with a shrug. “I’ve been doing stuff.”

She’s not going to make this easy for me, I can tell.

“What’s your major?” I ask after we pull away. I’ll settle for knowing
any
information, even if it has to be lame.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Me either,” I tell her, then wait to see if she’ll contribute. Nothing. She’s killing me.

“Where’d you go to school last year?” It’s hard to believe she could’ve attended Crenshaw without me seeing her at least once. She’d be hard to miss.

“I spent the year traveling the world.”

I have no idea if she’s telling the truth.

“The world? Really?” I ask doubtfully.

“Yup.” Nyelle reaches deep into the pocket of her jacket without explaining and pulls out a bag of red licorice. She strips one apart from the pack and offers it to me. I shake my head.

“Breakfast?”

“Nope. Just a habit,” she replies, sticking the red strand in her mouth.

I give up. We’re not really having a conversation—just a string of incomplete sentences. And I’m too tired and out of it to translate. So we drive the rest of the way in silence.

When we reach campus, the caffeine from the coffee is finally kicking in, but I’m already looking forward to the nap I’m planning to take after accounting. My next class isn’t until tonight, so I could potentially sleep all afternoon if I wanted. Right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“I’m going to the Union if you want to come,” I offer after we park in my assigned spot. “I have to get the rest of my work done before class.”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Nyelle replies with licorice hanging out of her mouth.

“Then why did you need a ride to campus?” I ask.

“Because I knew you were driving here,” she replies, which really isn’t an answer. Why do I keep trying?

The cold November air whips around us as we head across campus. I toss my coffee cup in the trash and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets, cursing myself for forgetting gloves.

“Oh crap,” I mutter when I spot Corinne walking in our direction across the courtyard. Before I can explain, I duck into the entryway of the law library.

Nyelle takes my lead and leans against the arching brick that covers the entrance. “Is Psycho here, armed with coffee?” she asks in a mocking whisper.

“No,” I grumble. “It’s not Carly.”

Nyelle attempts to peek.

“Please don’t.”

She looks at me, questioning. “Okay.”

I realize how stupid I look hiding from
another
girl, but I can’t handle Corinne’s overly bubbly enthusiasm right now. I don’t have the energy.

“Another ex?” Nyelle smirks.

I clench my jaw and lower my eyes with a slight nod.

“Wow, Cal. How many do you have? And how long does it take you to walk across campus if you’re hiding in alleys and doorways the entire time?”

“It’s not like that, okay?” I attempt to explain. “Corrine isn’t
bad
. She’s a sweet girl. But whenever she corners me, I’m stuck listening to her talk about everything she’s been doing since the last time I saw her. I just… was trying to avoid it this morning.”

“This is sooo much better,” she says, leaning against the building and looking up at me with teasing blue eyes.

“Trust me. It is.”

When Corinne finally passes us, I sigh in relief. “Okay. We can go.”

“Really, how many are there?” Nyelle asks, stepping out into the courtyard. “And do all their names begin with C?”

I know she’s enjoying this, but I can’t say I am. I really don’t make a habit of hiding from my exes, although I do avoid them when necessary. Nyelle just happened to be around to see it… twice. This isn’t exactly the impression I wanted to make.

“I don’t know,” I answer evasively, unable to look at her. “There’s been a few, I guess.”

“Hook-ups or girlfriends?”

“I’ve dated all of them.”

“All?”

I bury my hands in my front pockets again and keep walking with my head down, avoiding the accusatory tone.

“What happened? What was wrong with
all
of them?”

“Nothing really. Except for Carly, who ended up being a psycho. But they’re usually really nice. It’s just…” I shrug and attempt to pick up the pace, wanting to get to the Student Union faster so we can stop talking about the girls I’ve dated.

“Then why did you end things, because I’m assuming
you
ended it.”

“Usually,” I say, barely audible.

“So…” Nyelle pushes, not letting the subject drop. She stops walking just as we’re within sight of the doors. “Tell me. What happened?”

I turn abruptly to face her and blurt, “They weren’t who I needed them to be, okay?”

She examines me thoughtfully. “
Needed
them to be? What is that supposed to mean?”

I groan. “Coming from the girl loaded with cryptic responses? I think I’ll leave it at that.” I keep walking without bothering to see if she follows.

“Cal, tell me,” Nyelle begs from beside me as I search for an empty table. “Who do you need them to be?”

I don’t answer her. I notice a couple of guys sliding out of a booth and walk over to claim the table before anyone else can. Nyelle sits down across from me as I set my backpack on the bench.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

She recognizes my avoidance and urges carefully, “I’m not judging, Cal. I swear. I’m interested in understanding why you’ve left a wreckage of broken hearts across campus.” I scoff, and her lips curl up into an innocent smile. “Tell me, please. Who are you looking for?”

“I’ll be back,” I say, needing to stall this interrogation and decide if I’m willing to explain what I meant when I was a little too honest.

I grab a couple breakfast sandwiches and a bottle of water, returning to the table to see her eagerly waiting for me with her chin propped on folded hands.

Against my better judgment, I confess, “I’m looking for the girl I’ll regret if I let her go.”

Nyelle ponders thoughtfully for a moment. “Your
what if
girl. I like it.”

“My what?” I ask with a bite of the sandwich in my mouth.

“Your
what if
girl. You serial date so you don’t regret passing these girls up, in case one of them is
her.
”

I shrug. “I’ve never really thought about
why
I date them. Only why I don’t stay with them.”

“Has there ever been a girl who got away?”

I lean back in the booth and meet her intense gaze. I hesitate before answering, unable to be completely honest. “No. Not really.”

“Not even from back home? Where are you from, anyway?”

It takes all my effort not to choke on the food in my mouth when she asks this. I’m doing everything I can to think of her as Nyelle Preston and
not
Nicole Bentley, and then she asks a question that brings it all back, and I can’t help wanting to ask her what happened to her. But what if I scare her off and never see her again? It’s already hard enough not knowing
when
I’ll see her. I don’t want to blow it by asking the wrong question too soon. I have to wait until she’s ready to tell me.

“I live in a small town in northern California, outside Sacramento.” I can’t look at her when I say it. It feels like I’m the one lying.

“Wow. You’re far from home. Why would you choose Crenshaw?”

“It’s a good school,” I say, without really answering the question. I could tell her I wanted to get away from my family, but I don’t. I like my family. I could say they specialized in my major, but I still don’t have one. “Truthfully, I was supposed to go to UCLA, but… I changed my mind at the last minute.”

She smiles like I’ve revealed something interesting. “You made a random decision that could affect the rest of your life, just… because?”

“I guess.” I shrug.

“Did you serial date in high school too?”

I burst out laughing. If there’s anything at all she should remember about me, it’s that I was far from the most desirable guy in school. Sure, I had a few girlfriends over the years, but…

I continue to play along. “No,” I answer with a shake of my head. “I was… a lot different in high school. I didn’t realize how much until I went back home this summer.”

*     *     *

A red Jeep stops at the end of the driveway, and Craig Mullins pulls himself up by the roll bar and hangs over the top of the door. “When’d you get home?” he hollers over the music blaring from the stereo.

“A couple hours ago,” I yell back.

“We’re heading to Carter’s. Wanna come?”

I look to Rae sitting next to me on the puke-orange and shit-brown plaid couch just inside her garage. She shrugs. “The most happenin’ spot in Renfield is the ice cream place. Pathetic.” She pushes off the couch and walks down the driveway toward the Jeep. I follow her.

“How’s my little Rae of sunshine?” Brady asks from the driver’s seat as Rae climbs into the back. She flashes Brady her middle finger. “As cheerful as ever. Nice.”

Craig shoots me an odd look when I slide in next to her. “What the hell happened to your hair, Logan? Did you start your own boy band or something?”

I don’t bother answering, pushing back the hair hanging in front of my eyes. I didn’t plan to grow it out. I’ve always kept it short. My senior year it was basically buzzed. But I just haven’t bothered getting it cut since leaving for Crenshaw, so now it’s a flipped-out mess.

“Working for your uncle this summer?” Brady asks, driving out of the neighborhood.

“Yeah,” I answer. “What are you guys up to?”

“Same as every summer.” Craig turns around to talk to us. “Landscaping for Parker’s dad and drinking beers at the lake. Dude, you look… different.”

“Uh, okay,” I reply dismissively.

“Rae, heard about your chick band,” he adds. “Playing any gigs yet?”

“We’re still working on material,” she tells him.

“Well, you can play at any party I throw this summer,” Brady says, looking at us in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, if we want to play for crickets,” Rae scoffs.

“Hey! I throw killer parties.”

“Any
party in Renfield is a good party,” Craig says with a laugh. “This town’s too small for everyone not to show up.”

Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into the dirt parking lot of Carter’s Ice Cream. This was the place everyone wanted to work in high school. The most popular kids got their friends hired here each summer. So basically… I never worked here.

It’s crowded, as it usually is this time of year. As we approach, I’m trying to prepare myself for the high school reunion that’s about to happen.

“Save the picnic table,” Rae says as a group leaves. “I’ll get you a cone.”

Brady sits on top of the table next to me while Rae and Craig stand in the long line.

“Have any epic hook-ups?” Brady asks.

I’m too distracted by the miles of tan skin walking straight toward us to answer. I feel like I’m watching one of those women’s razor commercials, boasting smooth, touchable skin. It even seems like they’re walking in slow motion. Except for Neil Talbert trailing behind them, who might as well be dragging his knuckles. My eyes flick from face to face. Something isn’t right. Nicole’s not with them.

“Hey, Brady,” Heather says as she approaches. “Who’s this?” She scans me up and down, not attempting to be subtle about it.

“Uh, this is Cal, Heather,” Brady tells her like she’s crazy.
“Cal Logan.”

She tilts her head, confused.

“He graduated with us,” Brady adds in disbelief.

I run a hand through my hair to sweep it out of my face, trying not to appear as awkward as I feel.

“Hmm. I don’t think I remember you,” Ashley says from beside her, gliding her eyes over me as well.

Heather dismisses her comment with a flip of her hair.
“You
definitely need to come to the party at Gosland’s End tonight.”

“Where’s Waldo!” Neil bellows as he comes up behind Ashley, grabbing her ass. She jumps and swats his arm.

“Keep your hands off me, Neil,” she says in disgust. Then she redirects her attention to me. “That’s you? Well, you’ve… grown up.” Her suggestive tone makes me wonder what the hell is happening.

The first three years of high school, I was a good five inches shorter, wore round, black-rimmed glasses, and was scrawny and smaller than everyone. Neil used to ask, “Where’s Waldo?” wherever he saw me, and it eventually caught on. That stupid-ass saying followed me to every party in high school. It wasn’t funny then, and it sure as hell isn’t funny now. I’ve never hit anyone, but I’ve always wanted to punch that smug look off his face.

“Waldo, what happened to you? You’ve packed on some muscle. You roidin’ or something?” Talbert asks.

“Stop being a douche, Talbert,” Craig says, returning to our table and handing Brady a milk shake. “We all know you’re the only one with the roid issues. We’ve seen how small your dick is and that ain’t natural.”

“Fuck you, Mullins.” Talbert takes a step toward him with his fists clenched.

“Don’t start acting like a man now, Neil.” Vi laughs. “You know he’ll kick your ass.”

He shoots her a glowering look and walks off. Vi rolls her eyes. Everyone knows they tolerate him only because Nicole dated Kyle for the last three years of high school. Except… Nicole isn’t here now.