When I got into college, everything changed. I went from top of the pack to runt of the litter in a matter of weeks. I thought I knew everything and had it all figured out, but college life was a whole other ball game.
If it wasn’t for our gang of misfits, college would have destroyed me.
“Okay, so what’s next?” I ask, shaking my thoughts away. Debbie looks up at me dazed, as if she was lost in her own.
“Huh? Oh, right.” She takes a deep breath and flicks her hair back. “What I don’t like about you, number two; you’re too positive.”
“What?” I say blankly. “Too positive? You’re saying that’s a bad thing?” I drag my hands over my face. Then I point at Debbie. “So let me get this straight. You think I should be more negative?”
A flush of color floods Debbie’s face as she grins at me.
“You know what I mean,” she says with a laugh. She nudges my arm and I can’t decide whether to nudge her back or grab her arm and pull her in for a kiss. Curiosity gnaws at my stomach.
“No, I don’t. You’ll have to explain this one to me.” I pick up my drink and give her an expectant look.
Debbie chews her lip and her gorgeous eyes shoot to the ceiling.
“Okay, look.” She straightens her posture and eyes me seriously. “It’s great to be positive. I get that. But sometimes when you’re having a lousy day, the last thing you need is a ray of sunshine rolling in telling everyone to smile.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“Told someone to smile? Yes, you have.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
I whistle and rub the back of my neck, struggling to think of a single time I’ve told Debbie to smile. Especially when she’s having a bad day. I wouldn’t do that.
“Remember that thing you say? ‘Careful! If the wind blows, your face will stay that way.’ It’s infuriating!” Debbie throws her hands up to the ceiling as she complains. As if heaven can see her. In the basement.
“You know; these are not too serious. I think you’re struggling to find reasons to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. Remember.”
Debbie’s face softens and she shifts her weight, biting her lip in the most teasing way. I can’t even think straight.
Here we are, locked in a basement, all alone. And I’m pretty sure Debbie is running out of excuses not to kiss me.
“Anything else, or is that it?”
Debbie leaps to her feet and crosses the room with her arms folded. Her hips sashay with her movements and my eyes linger on the narrow of her back, just where the bottom of her hair reaches. If there is a heaven, I’ll never make it there with the thoughts going through my mind. She turns in a swift move, like a dancer, and stands poised and elegant. Her hands rest on her hips and she pouts at me. It’s almost too much to handle. She’s impossible to resist. Flashes of memories invade my mind… My hands running across the curve of her hips and squeezing her thighs, her breath tickling my neck and the press of her velvet lips burning my skin. My throat constricts at the thought.
“You always get what you want,” Debbie says firmly, her arms now folded. “Scrap that. You always get anything or anyone you want.”
I find myself on my feet, but I don’t remember leaving the couch. The statement burns somewhere in my chest and my stomach clenches.
“That’s not true.” The words fly out of my mouth like a roar. It takes me back. Where did that even come from? The sound of laughter and voices fade from upstairs and Debbie’s eyes widen as she takes a step back.
“Hey, is everything okay down there?” Ryder’s muffled voice calls out from behind the door.
I mouth an apology to Debbie as she shouts back up.
“Don’t worry. We’re fine.” She takes a moment to look at me furtively, then she turns away. She plays with her hair and hums to herself, as if thinking about the situation. Meanwhile, I stand frozen on the spot, heart pumping fast and my hands trembling. Like an idiot.
Debbie has always had the ability to push my buttons. In ways I never think possible.
Arrogance – I can understand. Positivity – it’s a silly one, but I get it. Thinking I always get what I want? She couldn’t be more wrong.
“Well, that was an odd reaction,” Debbie finally says, breaking the awkward silence. She returns to the couch with the bowl of chips and stuffs a handful in her mouth.
“Want to explain?”
As if on autopilot, I sit next to her and rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. Does she not realize how badly I want her? Can she really be that ignorant?
“You think I always get what I want? Seriously?” I say, winded. I rub my aching chest and look at her with disbelief. She merely shrugs back, still munching.
“You got everything. The nice house in Manhattan – not some tiny apartment in the Bronx. Your own column, a nice car... And you’re always out partying with girls.”
“Sounds like you’ve been stalking me on Instagram,” I tease. Debbie’s face grows red as her cheeks dimple. The thought of her scrolling through my social media ignites a fire of excitement within me.
“You don’t get it,” Debbie says, her face falling. “I’ve dreamed my whole life of becoming a writer. Touring the world, giving seminars and meeting people. But instead, I’m stuck managing the hardware department in Bed Bath and Beyond. And instead of going out to glitzy parties, I’m at home watching Netflix or doing stupid dares.”
“But you hate parties,” I add, cocking a brow at her. “And you love staying home watching Netflix.”
Debbie shoots me a look, it’s a
