Tell Me Not to Go Page 14

“You must be bored shitless. You should call me sometime. We could have fun.”

  “Are you serious right now? Fuck, you’re lucky you’re drunk.”

  He scoots closer to me, the water sloshing around us. “Don’t act all uptight. You’re obviously a hot bitch. Who wouldn’t want to tap that ass? Kind of rare to see on an Asian chick.” He snakes his hand up to my shoulder and tugs me toward him.

  I smack Keller—hard—across the face. I regret it instantly, because only an idiot lets an idiot get her panties in a bunch. I mean, yeah, it feels good in the moment, when his head whips to the side, and the shit-eating smirk he wears is momentarily displaced. But I’ve never hit anyone in my life and now probably wasn’t the time to start.

  “You bitch,” he says, grabbing his jaw.

  Or maybe hitting him was a-okay.

  “You totally deserved that. And for the record, you can thank the Italians for this ass, you little prick.”

  I jump out of the hot tub, awkwardly, of course, but my goal is to get the hell out of here. So I’ll leave being graceful for someone else.

  Keller tries to follow me, but a large hand pushes down on his shoulder.

  Jeff is crouching next to him, his eyes ablaze. “Stay in the water. Because if you come out, I’m going to knock you onto the fucking ground.” Jeff straightens up and takes my hand. “Don’t talk to her before we leave tomorrow. Or ever.”

  I wrap my towel tighter around myself and Jeff leads me back into the house. When we get upstairs, he knocks on Andrea’s door.

  She opens it and her eyes widen in surprise. “Jeff?”

  “You better make sure your boyfriend doesn’t drown in the hot tub, because I don’t give a shit if he does.”

  Andrea nods as Jeff pulls me back down the hall to our room.

  “What did he do?” Jeff asks once our door is shut. I’m glad it’s a thick wooden door, because I think it’s about to get loud up in here.

  I’m shaking from the adrenaline and the cold. “He was just being himself. Made some nasty remarks. I tried to let it go, but then he put his hand on me . . . I’m sorry I hit him. I mean I’m not, but I am for your sake.”

  Why is it that when I’m in a hospital I’m calm, rational—sensible, even? But in my real life I can be a complete mess.

  “Are you kidding me right now? You think this is your fault?”

  “Hell no, it’s not my fault. But I still shouldn’t have hit him.”

  Jeff takes me by the shoulders, and my towel slips to the floor. “If you hadn’t, I would have. And I’m pretty sure I hit harder.”

  “You make it a habit to smack dudes in the face?”

  “This isn’t funny. And I haven’t hit someone since I got in a fight with Scott Simmons in the eighth grade. But when I saw you slap him, I thought . . .”

  “I’m fine. I swear.” I put my hand on his bare shoulder. All I can focus on is how wide they are. How steady he is. “Thanks for not assuming I overreacted.”

  Jeff’s hands trace down my arms and I break out in goose bumps. “What kind of guy would do that?”

  I shrug. “Luke thought I was too dramatic. Probably what drove him away.”

  Jeff’s hands tighten their grip. “I am so sick of that asshole.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “I know you ran into him. I know he was texting you. And I know he’s never apologized for being the world’s shittiest boyfriend.”

  I turn my back on him and cross my arms. This red bikini doesn’t seem like such a good idea right now, and I wish I were wearing a one-piece. “Lizzie shouldn’t have told you all that.”

  “I worked out some of it myself.”

  “I know Luke’s a jerk. But we weren’t the right fit. I couldn’t be what he needed.”

  Jeff puts his arms around me from behind. “He was a stupid boy.” He nuzzles my ear and lowers his voice to a steely, deep timber. “And he was too insecure for a woman like you—a woman that outshines him.”

  I pull out of his embrace and sit on the bed. “That’s not totally true. I do well in school, but . . .”

  Jeff pushes me onto my back and straddles me. “No buts. He had no idea how to handle your brilliant, filthy mind.” His fingers stroke my temples. “No way to deal with your sassy, funny mouth.” He caresses my lower lip with his thumb. “And probably no clue how to keep you satisfied.” He slides down and wraps his arm around my waist, his face to my stomach.

  I close my eyes against the truth, but it’s still there. And so is Jeff—just holding me—determined to drive the point home. I shouldn’t rely on his strength this way. But he’s so sure, so confident, and I want to.

  “He needed you to be less so he could be your equal,” Jeff says, moving back up and kissing me on the forehead.

  “And you would be different?” Oh yes, he would. I already know that—in my body, my heart, my mind, and my soul.

  “If you were mine, I’d want you to shine like the sun.” He moves my arms above my head and slides his palms against mine until we’re gripping fingers. There’s no escaping the intensity of his gaze. “If Keller had hurt you, I would have killed him.”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  He pulls me into a bear hug. “So this is okay?”

  Maybe it should feel strange being restrained in his arms, but right now I need him close.

  The second I nod, he grips me tighter. And like he promised, that makes me sparkle—even brighter than the sun.

  Jeff promised me he was boring. And I promised him I wouldn’t fall for him. We both lied.

  Chapter 18: Jeff

  63 Days Left

  I’m wrapped around Sam, holding her close, feeling her back along the length of my front. I don’t want anything between our bodies, and there isn’t.

  I try mentally to obliterate the image of Keller with his hand on Sam’s arm, the sound of her slapping his face. But I can’t, and I want to go downstairs and hurt him. I’ve never seen a woman slap a man in real life, nor have I ever wanted to hit someone so strongly. The feeling was so intense it shocked me and scared me. Because I can’t pretend that I only find Sam sexy, or smart, or fascinating. What I find her is necessary.

  It’s not just that Sam is wicked smart, but also that she’s too modest to tell my coworkers that she’s been accepted to med school. Not just that she’s beautiful and fun, but also that she’s kind enough to give a kid her Skee-Ball tickets and responsible enough to worry about the idiot in the hot tub dehydrating. But mostly it’s that she looks at me like she’s been waiting for someone normal and steady and kind of predictable all along. Someone like me.

  Me changing that tire turned her on. The way I care for my sister turns her on. She has absolutely no desire for a bad boy. And yet she understood when I went all alpha on Keller. Sam and I make no sense on paper, but in real life, we fit.

  Except she’s leaving. And I can’t ask her to stay.

  I start to tumble into sleep when there is a pounding on our door.

  “Jeff, open up. Keller’s in trouble.” There’s a definite note of panic in Eli’s voice.

  Sam and I throw on some clothes and follow Eli downstairs, where Andrea is leaning over Keller, who’s spread out on the living room floor.

  “Maybe we should try to get him to throw up,” Andrea says, her eyes larger than normal.

  Sam gently nudges Andrea out of the way and places her fingers on Keller’s wrist.

  “He’s breathing and his pulse is strong. Let’s get him off his back.” Sam lifts Keller’s head and I push his legs, and we manage to roll him onto his right side.

  “Has he already thrown up?” Sam asks Andrea, her voice calm, even, and confident.

  “Yes. I went outside to check on him and he was in the bushes. When we came in here, he started talking really strangely and he collapsed.”

  “Okay. Eli, go get some water and a blanket.”

  “Won’t he sleep it off?” I ask. “Someone can stay with him.” And by “so
meone,” I mean Andrea, because I sure as hell am not going to.

  Sam shakes her head. “He feels too cold. And his breathing is irregular. I’m going to try to wake him up.”

  “I tried shaking him,” Andrea says.

  “Jeff, help me sit him up,” Sam says.

  Like everyone else in the room, I defer to her.

  Eli comes in with the water and a thick blanket. I wrangle my arms around Keller’s bare chest and pull him up into a sitting position, while Sam drapes the blanket over the lower half of his body.

  Without warning, she slaps him across the face.

  “What the hell?” Eli yelps.

  “That’s twice in one night,” I say.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Andrea asks, frowning.

  Sam ignores her. “I’m going to slap him one more time; fair warning.”

  And then she hits him again—a quick, sting of a slap meant to wake him, not hurt him.

  “This isn’t great,” Sam says. “Andrea, hand me a phone. Eli, help me pull the blanket around him. And keep him in a sitting position.”

  Andrea puts her hands on her hips. “Wait, why are you giving us orders?”

  Sam stands up. “Get me the phone and then we can talk about it.”

  Eli and I prop Keller up along the base of the couch as Andrea grabs her phone and Sam dials 911.

  “Hi, I need an ambulance for a late-twenties male with acute alcohol poisoning. He’s unresponsive and his breathing is slightly erratic. We’re keeping him upright and trying to elevate his temp.” She listens and nods, giving the dispatcher information as asked, and then she hangs up.

  “They’re coming. Andrea, go get Keller a shirt and a dry pair of pajama bottoms.”

  Sam crouches down and puts her ear to Keller’s chest, checking his breathing. “Stupid ass,” she mutters.

  “Anything else we can do?” Eli looks around, his eyes coming back to Sam.

  She is clearly in charge here. As I wait for her instructions, I savor getting to see this side of her personality. And even though I know it’s inappropriate, I find it very sexy.

  “I’ll keep checking his breathing and pulse. Why don’t you go outside and direct the EMTs in here,” Sam says to Eli.

  Eli looks relieved to go.

  Sam meets my gaze. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You’re pretty amazing.”

  Her cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink. I can’t believe she’s embarrassed by the compliment.

  Andrea comes in with Keller’s clothes and hands them to Sam, who throws her hand up and doesn’t take them.

  “You guys can take over on this one.”

  Only fair she shouldn’t have to pull off Keller’s swim trunks. Andrea unties them, but struggles to pull the clingy fabric down, so I get down on the floor and help her.

  “Ugh, he pissed himself.” I turn my face away from the smell, but keep tugging.

  “You’re lucky that’s all he did.” Sam puts her fingers on Keller’s neck to check his pulse as we pull his bottoms all the way off and re-dress him.

  By the time the EMTs get there, Keller seems to be warming up. They load him up on the gurney and wheel him out in what seems like seconds.

  “I’ll go with him,” Andrea says, her tone displeased. I don’t blame her for being resentful of having to play caretaker for Keller, but it’s nice she’s doing it anyway. I guess I would go, too, if I had to.

  Sam touches her shoulder. “He’s going to be fine. They’ll take care of him. But keep us posted.”

  Eli, Sam, and I all exhale loudly once the ambulance pulls away.

  “Should we wake up everyone and go to the hospital?” Eli asks.

  Sam pushes her hair back from her face. “Let’s wait until Andrea calls.”

  “Why don’t you go grab some sleep,” I say to Eli. “I’ll wake you up once I hear.”

  Eli nods. “I doubt he’s going to be able to make the drive back to San Jose tomorrow.”

  “They’ll probably release him tomorrow, but he won’t feel good,” Sam says.

  Eli volunteers to stay an extra day and drive Keller home. Strange how before this trip, I thought of Eli as a milder version of Keller. Turns out, he’s a stand-up guy.

  We decide to figure everything out tomorrow, and Eli heads to bed. Once he’s gone, I collapse on the couch and pull Sam into my lap.

  “The fucking irony,” she says. “But seriously, did that just happen?”

  “Yes. And you did great.”

  “It was selfishness on my part. I was worried he would stop breathing and I would have to give him CPR.” She’s putting up her tough-girl persona again, but I’m not buying it.

  “No, you did what needed to be done. And I loved watching you work.”

  She looks down. “Thanks.”

  “No. I mean it.” I tilt her chin up. “I can see you were meant to do this. You’re going to be incredible.”

  “Shut up,” she says.

  “Make me.”

  So she kisses me, and it’s warm and sweet like a desert breeze.

  Keller looks terrible the next day, but he’s fine. He doesn’t thank Sam—doesn’t even acknowledge her, really—but Andrea does, going so far as to hug her. Once Sam and I know we’re not needed, we make the drive back to the Bay Area.

  Once we’re home, I walk Sam to her suite, and she plops her bag next to the door.

  “Thanks for the exciting weekend,” she says with plenty of attitude.

  “Anytime. I really know how to show a lady a good time.”

  “Too bad I’m not a lady.” She makes a grab for my crotch to demonstrate.

  I pull her into my arms instead. “I’m sorry it was a bust. I’ll take you somewhere better next time—just the two of us.”

  She stiffens in my arms, because we both know there may not be a next time. We only have a couple of months left until she graduates. Luckily, she ignores the weight of what I’ve just said.

  “It wasn’t a total loss. Aside from the racist remarks and the sexual harassment, I had fun.”

  As I lean in to give her another kiss, Lizzie comes storming out of her room, a visibly angry Jude right behind her.

  “I’m not going to be the one to kick him out of his childhood home,” she yells.

  “No. That will be me.” Jude’s hands are gesturing in the air, and his voice is loud. “And you’re being dramatic. He probably wants to move out anyway.”

  Lizzie gasps. “Dramatic? Are you serious right now? You two have created a home. Think about how he’ll feel seeing me living there.”

  Jude’s voice falls to a dangerous whisper. “You’re not over him, are you?”

  Lizzie goes completely still, her eyes tearing up. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Oh, crap,” Sam whispers.

  Jude runs his hands through his hair, his body deflating like a slashed tire. “Babe . . .”

  “Don’t,” Lizzie says, running into her room and slamming the door.

  “Shit. Shit!” Jude kicks the side of the couch.

  He starts to run after her, so I grab his arm.

  “Why don’t you cool off for a second?”

  “Let me go,” Jude says through clenched teeth, as he glares where my hand is restraining him.

  The dude’s four inches taller than me, but I’m not letting go of him. “You just attacked the couch. So I need to know you’re calm first.”

  Jude inhales sharply and lets out a long sigh. Then he takes another deep breath.

  I let go of his arm. “Better?”

  “Yeah, better.” He puts a hand on my shoulder, then heads to Lizzie’s room.

  I barely know Jude, but we’re about the same age. We could even be buddies. Except he treats me more like a future brother-in-law. And because we’re almost the same age, I’m a little freaked out by that. But my main priority now is making sure he’s good to my sister.

  “Open up, babe. Please,” Jude says, knockin
g softly on Lizzie’s door.

  Just when I think she’s not going to let him in, Lizzie opens the door a couple of inches.

  Jude pushes the door wider and takes her face in his hands. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.”

  Lizzie’s eyes well up. “Then how could you say it? After everything . . .”

  “Because I’ve never been so sure about anything. And it scares the shit out of me that you might not feel the same way.” He puts his forehead to hers. “I want you to live with me.”

  My stomach aches watching them lay it all out there. They might as well be bleeding from their chests.

  Sam and I scramble out the front door to give them some privacy. I suspect Jude has a lot of groveling to do. And that Lizzie will be living with him by the summer.

  I pull Sam to me, my fingers splayed over her hips. “Wow. That was . . .”

  She looks a little shell shocked. “Yeah, no shit.”

  “Love is making them both crazy.”

  “Good thing we don’t have to worry about that,” she says, her tone light, but her eyes wide and her gaze unwavering.

  I think I could stare at her forever.

  I remember the way Jude and Lizzie were looking at each other when she opened her door—like their hearts were breaking because they couldn’t stand to have anything between them.

  Swallowing becomes difficult. “Yeah, good thing.”

  Chapter 19: Sam

  56 Days Left

  “Two carne asada burritos,” I tell the cashier at La Vic. “Extra sauce.”

  The orange sauce is legendary here—a hint spicy, a little creamy, a ton delicious. If I had to choose a way to die, it would be facedown in a vat of it.

  I take a bite of my burrito, which is bigger than a newborn baby. Lizzie’s face looks pristine as she eats, while I can feel sour cream dribbling down my chin.

  She sets down her burrito. “Did you order your cap and gown?”

  “No, I’m still in denial.”

  I can’t believe that I’m graduating soon. The last four years have been bittersweet, but overall, San Jose has been good to me. I’m going to miss the hell out of my friends—especially Lizzie and Angel. And Jeff.

  She smiles. “I know, right? I can’t believe we’re almost out of here.”