The sun streaming through my window is an unwelcome reminder that alcohol and I don't mix well, especially the morning after. I cover my head with the blanket and silently curse Kelsey for dragging me to that party last night. Watching a bunch of frat boys and sorority girls make fools of themselves, then getting groped by a brainless pig, is not my idea of a good time.
I roll onto my side and crack open one eye to look at the clock on my nightstand. The digital readout tells me it's a little past 1PM. Great, I wasted most of my day in bed.
Grunting, I drag myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I don't even look in the mirror before I strip off my shorts and tank top and step into the shower. The last thing I want is another reminder of last night.
I let the hot water pound against my neck and back, soothing my achy muscles, before I turn around and twist the nozzle over to cold. I'm hit with the five second stream of icy water that I use to wake myself up every day before I slam my hand against the shower lever and turn off the water.
Wrapped in a towel I step out into the hallway and hear Kelsey giggling and the unmistakable sound of her apparently-on-again boyfriend Paul's deep baritone voice. Really? How did I miss that one?
I shut the door to my bedroom and begin drying off and tossing on some comfy lounging clothes when Kelsey creeps into my room, shutting the door behind her.
"Thanks for knocking," I say, pulling a comb through my tangled hair.
"Sorry, but do you think you could head to the library or something for a couple hours?" Kelsey asks wearing her most innocent and irresistible favor face, "Paul came over this morning and we talked and well…Jamie already headed over to Brit's to work on some group project, and, I mean…"
She trails off because she knows I already know where this is going. This is the makeup-sex portion of the dance Kelsey and Paul have been doing for months. Kelsey begs us to disappear for a couple hours, and when we return all is well in the world.
"Kels, you really pick the worst days. All I wanted to do was lounge and catch up on my reading today," I tell her as I maneuver my long wet hair into a loose side braid, glancing at her behind me in the mirror.
"I know Jessie, but, it's Paul! I mean you're welcome to stay, but you know what you're getting yourself into. I know you can't concentrate when we—"
"Okay Kelsey! I got it! I'm leaving!" I cut her off before she goes into details.
"Thanks Jessie, I owe you one!" She happily skips out of my room and I hear her door shut then I try to tune out anything I hear beyond that.
I shove my Mac into my tan backpack then throw it over my shoulder. I snatch Kelsey's keys off the bowl on the end table and head out the door, all the while humming a tune to myself on the off chance I don't make it out the door quick enough.
I don't really want to spend my Sunday in the library, so instead I head to the study lounge in Ackerman. They've got the most comfortable couches and I fully intend to stretch out and spend my afternoon with Niko Tinbergen and his four questions.
When I get to the lounge I see that there are only a few other students there and none of them have claimed the long black couch in the center of the room. It's my lucky day, all things considered.
I toss my backpack on one end of the couch and pull my Mac out, getting settled with the laptop on my raised knees while I lay on my back with my head propped on a cushion. If I can't lounge in my bed and study, this is the next best thing I suppose. I pull my glasses out of my bag and slip them on; contacts aren't an option with bloodshot, glassy, hangover eyes.
I spend the next twenty minutes poring over the reading assignment due for comparative psychology when I notice one of the other students in the lounge staring at me from an oversized chair across the room. I cast him a sidelong glance and vaguely recognize him from my creative writing elective. It's a big class, so I've only seen him in passing over the last month or so. But there's something oddly familiar about him, something I can't really place. It's not just that I've seen him in the lecture hall. I feel like I've met him, spoken to him before.
I turn my attention back to my laptop, sure I'm probably mixing him up with someone else. I can still feel his eyes on me so I hazard one more peek out of the corner of my eye and I notice him gathering his things to leave. Oh well, one less distraction. I return my focus to the screen once again.
Someone settles into the seat across from me and I peer over the top of my laptop to see the random guy from across the room hasn't left, instead he's moved closer to me. Oddly enough I'm not freaked out by this, or even annoyed, just curious. Now that he's moved closer I know I've met him before. I just can't place where or when.
He sits back with his long, denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He's wearing a dark, navy blue hoodie with some decal that I can't make out because he's got one arm folded under the other and he is blatantly glaring at me, looking either confused or annoyed—maybe both.
I cast my eyes down at the screen hoping he takes the hint that I don't want to talk and leaves me alone. Apparently my lucky streak today only extends so far.
"You were at the Sigma Chi party last night weren't you?" he asks.
I look up, not hiding my eyes this time, "I'm sure a lot of people were at that party."
"Right, but not all of them looked like they'd rather be anywhere but at that party," he smirks, but doesn't take his eyes off my face.
"That obvious huh? I'm not big on frat parties. Well to be honest, I'm not big on parties in general. I was coerced."
He considers that for a moment, "Sounds like an interesting story."
I resign myself to the fact that I'm not going to get any reading done right now and close my laptop before sitting upright on the couch.
"Not particularly. I owed my friend a favor, she wanted to make her boyfriend drool, and she needed company," I tell him, wrapping my arms around my knees.
"Well I'm sure if she was dressed anything like you were, the plan worked," he says, locking his gaze with mine.
I take a good look at him for the first time. He's got dark, chestnut brown hair, short on the sides, long and wavy on the top and a tousled mess, but in an attractive way. I can't tell much about his physique beneath the faded jeans and the hoodie in his seated position, but he looks like he probably fills out those jeans nicely. He's got a strong jawline, not quite square, and a day's worth of stubble that gives his face a sexy edge. I linger a little too long over his slightly full and perfectly sculpted lips before I bring myself to look into his eyes. That's when it hits me. Those crystal clear, blue-gray eyes, slightly long lower lashes, with a twinkle lighting them up look back at me and immediately I'm relieved and disappointed all at once. It's my cross-dressing savior, not some beautiful boy trying to hit on me. I feel let down, and that confuses me because I really shouldn't care at all.
"My protector from the party," I laugh to disguise my disappointment. "I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you without the makeup, and with all the clothes."
His lightly tanned face heats with a faint blush and he runs his index finger back and forth over the space just below his bottom lip, trying to wipe away an embarrassed smile.
"Yeah, that'd be me I guess."
"What in the world would possess you to go out in public looking like that anyway?" I have to ask.
"I was there with a group. It would've made more sense if they hadn't all ditched me for keg stands at that moment. We lost a bet. Unofficial soccer scrimmage before playoffs start. My team lost, and since I'm captain, I got the shitty end of that stick. Apparently Rocky Horror Picture Show is filled with 'interesting' characters."
"Sorry, I've never seen the movie. Sucks about the bet though. I'm sure you'll rethink the terms next time if it means prancing around in women's underwear all night. Unless, of course, you're into that." I can't help but laugh again, he just looked so ridiculous.
"Trust me, I've got no intention of taking another bet any time soon."
He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees and fold his hands together. That's when I see the decal on his hoodie is actually the Sigma Chi Greek letters.
"I didn't realize you were in the frat," I say, pointing to his chest.
"Do I lose points or earn them for that?"
"Well, a frat guy automatically starts in the negative with me, bonus negative points if you're a big, dumb jock. Since you don't seem all that dumb, and you came to my rescue when I was too inebriated to deal with that jackass myself, I'd say that cancels out the Greek affiliation." I cringe internally at the thought that I couldn't manage to take care of myself last night when that imbecilic ox tried to make a move. No more getting drunk at parties where I only know one person. Too risky and I don't need to put myself in a situation like that. Not again.
"Glad I was able to redeem myself in your eyes, princess. What exactly do you have against the Greeks?"
I'll be damned if I don't like this guy.
"Just not my particular scene. Prissy, stuck up, rich bitches and dim-witted, horny jocks. I've only come across a few exceptions so far."
He gives me an incredulous look. "Wow. That's a thoroughly misguided judgment based on a few overt mouthpieces for a widely misunderstood organization."
I'm pretty sure he just called me close-minded and presumptuous. Yet I'm not offended, if anything, I'm amused by our conversation.
I put my hands up in mock defense, "Okay Mr. SAT prep, calm down. My dad was in a frat when he was in college, and my best friend happens to be an officer in your sister sorority. I'm not making a biased judgment. Just going by the general majority I've encountered since I've been here."
He smiles a heart stopping, beautiful, crooked smile and I have to silently remind myself that my equipment isn't compatible with his preferences, before I start drooling. What the hell is wrong with me?
"Sorry. I get bent out of shape when I think people are lumping me in with the stereotypes. Why don't we start over? Hi, I'm Dean Delaney," he leans across the short space between us holding out his hand to me.
"Jessie Maddox," I tell him, reaching out to take his hand.
He grips my hand and a shiver runs up my arm and down my spine. His eyes are locked with mine again and I can't seem to look away.
I clear my throat and manage to tear my gaze from his about three seconds past 'awkward' when his cell starts to vibrate in his pocket.
"Sorry, give me a minute," he says, pulling the phone from his pocket to answer.
I lean back, giving myself a second to recover my wits. He makes no move to step away to take the call, so I can't help but listen to his half of the conversation.
"Hey man, what's up? Nah, just getting some work done in the lounge. Yeah, I'll be there for dinner, seven right? Okay. Yup, love you too. Later." He disconnects the call and shoves the phone back in his pocket.
"Hot date?" I ask.
"Oh yeah, every Sunday, like clockwork," he replies with another dazzling smile. That's one lucky guy he was talking too. I can't help but be feel a tiny pang of jealousy that I don't have someone smiling like that after they talk to me. Why the sudden obsession with coupling Jess? Get a grip.
"Well, I'm sure you've got to go get ready. And I'm fully planning to go home and get some much needed sleep after last night." I shove my laptop into my bag and remove my glasses to place them back in their case.
"Are you sure sleep is the best thing? You didn't get much reading done thanks to me. Maybe I should buy you a cup of coffee so you can stay awake long enough to get some work done tonight, and I can absolve myself of this guilt."
"Guilt?" I laugh, "I mean, if you're really torn up about this, who am I to turn down free caffeine?"
"My thoughts exactly, that would just be rude, and you don't strike me as that type."
"Oh, and what type do I strike you as?" I ask, curious.
"Still working on that, but I'll be sure to let you know once I draw a conclusion," he says as he stands and gestures for me to walk past him.
Looks like I managed to make a friend, and Dean is the best kind of friend. Eye candy with no chance of complications. I could use some simplicity in my life.