I pulled a pillow over my face and groaned, knowing anything I did now to relieve the building pressure would be a goddamned inferior rendering of what I really wanted. I could not have her, for so many reasons. She was off-limits, as a student in my class – which she didn’t know. She was emerging from a breakup after a three-year-long relationship. I was the witness to a humiliation no one should have to bear, and she was afraid of me.
But maybe a little less so, now, my mind murmured.
I couldn’t contain the thrill that shot through me, so I let it run its course.
Then I stamped it out and gave myself that second-rate release so I could get some sleep.
Sunday night, Joseph and I met up at a bar in the warehouse district to see a fledging alternative band from Dallas that we both liked. Though I’d barely slept the night before and had put in two hours of training at the dojang that afternoon, I was both wired and weirdly contemplative – two things I can usually dispense with in one good sparring session.
Master Leu had agreed to spar with me, since no one else was there, which had kicked my ass. For a smallish guy, he was the biggest badass I’d ever met. At a training expo, I’d watched him – in two moves – put a larger but equivalently trained opponent in a chokehold that could cause a real-life adversary to pass out. Or could crush his trachea.
Jacqueline’s attacker had no idea how lucky he was that I was still a few levels away from being allowed to learn that move.
‘Dude, you are not in Kansas any more.’ Joseph’s voice broke through my reverie.
I smirked. ‘I’ve never been to Kansas, actually.’
He shook his head. ‘What – or who – are you thinking about? Never seen you so distracted. I’ve asked you three times if you’re going home for Thanksgiving and you haven’t so much as purposefully ignored me. You just aren’t hearing anything.’
Shaking my head, I sighed. ‘Sorry, man. Yeah, I’m going home. You?’
He shook his head and tossed back the rest of the tequila shot he’d been sipping. ‘Going home with Elliott. His mom loves me.’ His lips twisted as he leaned an elbow on the bar and looked at me. ‘Mine – does not.’
Joseph had dropped hints about his family’s rejection before, but he’d never stated it outright. I didn’t know what to say.
‘So … you’re not welcome to bring Elliott home with you?’
‘No, man. I’m not welcome home, period. It’s a no fags allowed zone.’
‘Jesus. That sucks.’
He shrugged. ‘Is what it is. Elliott’s family is more than fine with us being a couple – his mom makes up a guest room for us that would rival any bed-and-breakfast, but they’ve had to deal with him bringing home a blue-collar guy. They’re all educated and shit – whole family. His little sister is in f**king med school. The first time I met them, all he’d told them was where I worked. Imagine their surprise when they found out I keep the campus plumbing in order instead of teaching history or math or, you know, women’s studies.’ He laughed. ‘I can’t catch a break, man. I’m too g*y to be redneck and too redneck to be g*y.’
Whatever my dad thought about me, whatever I did to piss him off – even purposefully, he’d never told me I was unwelcome to come home. I knew without thinking about it that I could move home right now if I wanted to. I wouldn’t. But I could.
The band took the stage, and Joseph and I enjoyed sound that was neither pop or musical theatre, a few drinks, and more than a few attentive glances from girls.
‘Yep,’ he said, angling a brow at a boisterous trio of coeds who kept looking our way. Hands behind his neck, he popped his guns from the sleeves of his white T-shirt. ‘I still got it, even if I don’t want it.’
Chuckling, I shook my head and signalled the bartender for one more round. I never picked up a girl when I was with Joseph, but I knew the ground had shifted beneath my feet when I found myself not even the slightest bit curious whether any of those girls were cute. There was only one possible reason for that disinterest.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how to get Jacqueline Wallace back into the circle of my arms, come hell or high water. I was all too familiar with both.
Monday morning, I was nursing a slight hangover and a dampened outlook. Every time I saw Charles, I felt guilty. Every time I thought of Jacqueline, I felt more so. She hadn’t emailed me over the weekend. I had what felt like a premonition about her figuring out that I was Landon, and told myself, again, that I had to put a stop to this. Now.
She dropped on to the edge of the seat next to me.
I was so thrown that I didn’t say anything. Just stared.
‘Hey,’ she said, knocking me from my stupor. Fearing my earlier gut feeling was about to go down, I focused on the subtle smile teasing the edge of her mouth.
‘Hey,’ I returned, opening my textbook to shield the sketch I was working on.
‘So, it just occurred to me that I don’t remember your name from the other night.’ She was nervous. Not angry. Nervous. ‘Too many margaritas, I guess.’
Here’s your chance. Sitting in economics class – what better place to clear up the … mix-up about your name.
I stared into her big blue eyes and said, ‘It’s Lucas. And I don’t think I gave it.’
Dammit.
Heller came slamming and cursing through the door down by the podium, and Jacqueline’s smile grew a little wider. ‘So … you, um, called me Jackie, before?’ she said. ‘I actually go by Jacqueline. Now.’