“I WISH YOU were rich like me. It’s not fair you have to work all the time. And if you’re not working, you’re studying. It’s a shame you’re missing out on the true college experience,” Shelley complained as I unpacked new textbooks that had come in for the bookstore. She smiled. “But don’t you love me for coming to keep you company?”
I rolled my eyes at her. “Whitman isn’t cheap, and we can’t all have daddies that pay our Amex card every month.”
She made a moue with her lips. “We could probably figure out a way for him to pay your bills too. He’d never know probably.”
I shook my head. “I pay my own way. Always have. I’m here for a top notch education …”
“So you never have to depend on a loser like your poor mom does … I know, I know. You say it all the dang time. Trust me, you are never going to end up with some car salesman from Petal who wears Hawaiian shirts. But if you want to meet a nice, rich guy, then you need to get out more.”
“Working makes me feel good about myself. You should try it.”
She sent me a disbelieving glare. “I just buy shoes to feel good—or jewelry. Speaking of, have you seen the new line of James Avery necklaces? God, totally gorgeous with these little silver charms everywhere. And you could totally do it, Elizabeth. Your drawings are much better than half the stuff I see.”
“I—I did draw something recently. A dragonfly.”
Her eyes flared. “Holy hell, that’s huge. Why didn’t you tell me? What are you going to do with it? Put it on a bracelet? Necklace? Make me one … please?”
She didn’t understand why I’d stopped making jewelry, not really, but her encouragement meant something to me. No one else had ever pushed me but Granny, and she was gone. “Thank you for saying that.”
She grinned, refocusing. “So, let’s talk about your sexy new neighbor. You had a nightmare and the English dreamboat came over and saved you from the bogeyman?”
I groaned. I never should have told her. “You can drop the baby-girl voice.”
“But it’s so fun. I can’t believe you didn’t do the deed with him. Don’t you want to see if he’s like Hugh Grant in Notting Hill? Oh, or Jude Law? Wait, how about Charlie Hunnam? Oh yeah, I’d have his babies. Well, all their babies.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“My life is not a movie, Shelley.”
She munched on a bag of chips she’d snagged from the café. “I beg to differ. You have to admit your life is fairly dramatic. Heck, you could probably sell the rights to it and make millions. Chi-ching!”
Her words sobered me, reminding me of my mom and Karl and their scheme. I pushed the worry away.
“Does everything he says sound hot? Like if he called you a bitch, you’d be like oh, baby, say it again?”
I cracked a grin. “Maybe.”
“Oh my God, what if the twins are related to the Queen?” She pointed a finger at me, her face animated. “You could be English royalty. Heck, your name is already Elizabeth—wasn’t she a queen or something? Think about it … you in a Lady Di–type wedding dress. You already love all that Shakespeare stuff, and this would just be the icing on the cake.” She started quoting famous Shakespearean lines but ended up mixing them together, tossing Romeo and Juliet in with Macbeth.
A bit later, after she’d finished, I took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t want you to freak out, but you may see Colby on campus this semester. Apparently, he’s a student here now.”
She dropped her bag of chips, eyes big as saucers. “What the hell? Are you okay? How do you know? Why are you not freaking out? Why—”
“I’m fine.” I totally wasn’t.
“He—he came to see me, but he left when Declan ran him off. So, if I act odd or whatever, it’s because I’m paranoid I’m going to see him or he’s going to tell people about what happened.” My voice trembled.
She exhaled loudly but her voice came out hushed. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Elizabeth, absolutely nothing. But you need to call the cops if he shows up again. Please say you will.”
I nodded. But would I?
“Since your parents know his family, will you ask them if they’d heard anything about why he’s transferred here? See if you can figure out what’s going on with him.”
She nodded, a look of worry on her face.
I pushed out a grin. “Come on, don’t get glum on me. Make me laugh.”
“You doing okay unpacking those boxes?” a male voice called from around the corner. Rick ambled into view. Tall with sandy blond hair and a skinny build, he’d recently graduated from Whitman and was the store manager here while he worked on his graduate degree.
He stood next to me and pilfered through some of the titles in the box. “Some of these boxes are heavy and need to go upstairs to the non-fiction section. Let me know if you need some help getting them up the stairs.” He smiled and adjusted his glasses.
I smiled back. “Okay.”
We had an elevator, but I didn’t say anything. He always offered to help me, and I thought it sweet.
I could feel Shelley’s eyes on us, watching. Plotting.
“She needs help a lot, Rick. She needs a big old—oh, never mind.” She grinned maniacally.
I shot her a look. This was not what I meant by make me laugh.
Her eyes said what she’d said to me many times, That is some good man-meat right there. What are you waiting on, chica? Scaredy-cat. Here, pussyyyyyyy.
I huffed just as the café door opened and Blake walked through to the bookstore.
“What’s going on?” he asked us.
“Nothing,” snorted Shelley. “This bookstore needs to magically turn into a night club or a frat house.”
“Geez, no one’s keeping you here with me,” I replied. “I’m not bored at all. I’m working to pay my bills.”
She shrugged and sipped on her soda. “This year is just so blasé so far.”
“Don’t you have homework?” How did the girl not get kicked out of school?
“All done.” She tapped her head. “I might look like a dumb co-ed, but this brain is smarter than you think.”
“Let’s all do something,” Blake said. “Movie maybe? I hear the new Marvel movie is showing at the Malco.” He sent me a sheepish grin. “I know Elizabeth loves Thor, right?”
“Wow, Elizabeth? Is that so?” Shelley asked in a snarky voice.
I shrugged. “Sure, what’s not to like? There are big muscles and blond hair and tattoos and a hammer …”
“Yeah, she likes big hammers,” Shelley deadpanned.
“That’s enough,” I said.
“I was kidding.” She sent me a sly look.
Blake and Rick chuckled, and even though I was the butt of the joke, it made me glad to see Blake smile. I didn’t want things to be weird between us. I’d been processing his declaration of love, but I still didn’t know what I wanted to do about it.
The chime on the overhead door went off as Dax and Declan both walked in the café entrance.
Shelley came to attention. “The British are coming, the British are coming.”
“Stop it,” I hissed.
Blake’s face had grown still at our conversation, his body tense. “I don’t know what all the girls see in those two—”
“—who are hotter than my hair straightener,” Shelley finished.
A girl in the café waylaid Dax, but Declan strode our way wearing low-slung jeans, a Whitman shirt, and a pair of leather flip-flops.
I sighed, taking in the dark hair that curled around his ears and nape, the glossy sheen catching the lights. His steely-gray eyes seemed to zero in right on me from clear across the store, and I felt myself prepping my body for the current that would inevitably shoot through me.
He came closer and it seemed as if every eye in the place followed him.