Best Served Cold Page 4

  “Are you the oldest?”

  “Yeah. The bossy big sister.”

  “I’m the middle kid. Or I am now, at least. I have an older sister, and then the little dude.” He glanced over at where Desmond was absorbed in his toys. I tried to think of something to say to fill the gap.

  “If you ever need someone to show you around the campus or whatever, let me know.” Smooth, Jules.

  He grinned. “Thanks. I might take you up on that. At least you could tell me where the best bars and coffee places are, right? I don’t trust my dad to know that.”

  “Sure, I--” The back door opened on a blast of frigid air, and Dr. Fleming stomped in.

  “Jess?” He took the room in two strides and grabbed his son. “You’re early. Glad you made it down. How was the drive?”

  Jesse hugged him back, and I saw genuine love on his face. “Wasn’t bad. Yeah, I made better time than I thought. Scared your babysitter half out of her mind, I think.” He gestured to me.

  Danny grinned at me, and I was again struck by family resemblance. “Sorry about that, Julia. Sarah must’ve forgotten to tell you Jesse was coming.”

  “It’s not a problem.” I stood up and slung my bag over one shoulder. “Sarah asked me to put on the lasagna, and then I’ll head out, unless you want me to stay longer?”

  “No, that works. Don’t worry about the food, the men will take care of it.” Danny clapped Jesse on the back. “Want to be my sous chef, bud?”

  “Daddy, I help, too!” Desmond abandoned the blocks to clamor up onto a chair. His dad ruffled his hair.

  “Sure, sport, you, too.” He smiled at me. “Do you I owe you a check, Julia?”

  “Nah, Sarah will take care of it on Friday.” I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my coat and glanced at Jesse.

  “Nice meeting you. I’m sure I’ll see you around, either here or on campus.”

  “Yeah, definitely.” His eyes lingered on me just a minute before Des pulled his attention away.

  For the first time in many weeks, I didn’t think about Liam once on the way home.

  I didn’t see Jesse the rest of that week. When I got to work on Wednesday, Sarah apologized profusely for not warning me that her stepson was expected.

  “I completely spaced on that. I’m so sorry.”

  I shrugged. “No big. I was just a little startled, but Des knew him, so I figured he was legit.”

  “Oh, yes, Desmond loves his big bro.” She smiled at her son as he sat at the table, intent on a coloring page. “He’s been in seventh heaven since Jesse got here.” Sarah worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “He seems, um, nice.” There was that stupid word again. But what else was I going to say? Your stepson is really hot?

  “Yeah. Jesse’s always been a good kid.” She lowered her voice. “You know, it was hard on Danny’s older kids when we got married. I mean, Danny and their mom had been divorced for quite a few years before I even met him, but they were used to having him all to themselves. Jesse came around fast, but Alison...” She shook her head. “She’s not quite there yet.”

  “It’s really great that you and Dr. Fleming are letting him live here and go to school.”

  Sarah shook her head. “That didn’t take any thought. I love having him around, and of course Danny and Des do, too. And Jesse is awesome with the baby. I wish Alison would come visit more, get to know him better.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Danny keeps telling me these things take time, and I guess I trust him.”

  I thought about the Flemings as I hurried through the bitter wind on Thursday afternoon, heading for class. My parents were happily married and still so gooey in love that my sisters and I pretended to be disgusted. But deep down, I knew I was grateful that I didn’t have to deal with all the crap I’d seen some of my friends go through. And as much as I liked Sarah, Danny and Desmond, I could see the strain that divorce and remarriage had on the whole family.

  Thursdays were my favorite class days, since I only had one two-hour seminar, and it was in the early afternoon. It was my one day to sleep in a little. Plus I was excited about the seminar topic: Modern Journalism and Social Media.

  I took a seat in the middle of the large classroom, smiling at a few people I recognized from other classes. By the time we hit junior year, most of us who had been in the same major for two to three years had survived more than a few classes together.

  “Hey, you’re Julia Cole, aren’t you?” The girl sitting behind me leaned forward.

  She looked vaguely familiar.

  “Yep.” I searched my memory for her name but drew a blank. I couldn’t even remember what class we might have had together.

  “So you dated Liam Bailey. Right? I was at that party last month. You know, his surprise party? My roommate dates a guy on the track team, so they took me along with them. God, that was crazy.”

  My face froze, and I fell into autopilot. The girl was looking at me in expectation, waiting for a response.

  “Umm. Yeah, it was crazy.”

  “So what did you do? After, I mean? Did you, like, want to beat the shit out of him? Any guy who did that to me, I’d want to kill him.”

  I shook my head. “No. I haven’t even seen him since that night. It’s just over.” She opened her mouth to say something else, and I added, “And I don’t want to talk about it. It’s no one’s business.” I fixed Ms. Nosy Body with a steel glare my sisters used to call the Jules Freeze before I turned around again to face the front.

  A few people around us had overheard, and I ignored the murmurs as I opened the fresh notebook and fiddled with my pencil. I was relieved when Dr. Turner appeared a few moments later.

  She was a tiny woman with jet-black hair and piercing brown eyes that snapped above the cat-eye glasses she always wore. Once upon a time, she had been part of the Washington press corps and had routinely attended briefings at the White House. She was part of the first wave of women in political journalism and one of my favorite professors; I could listen to her stories for hours.

  As always, she launched directly into her lecture, peering at us from time to time over her glasses. Dr. Turner eschewed all the more modern technology; she still used an old overhead projector to share her notes. Today was a class overview, a reiteration of her expectations and rules for those who had never before taken a Turner class and an introduction to our seminar project.

  “Now those of you who have had me as a teacher before might recall that I am known for my creative class assignments. This is a new topic. Social media as it relates to journalism has never been taught here before now. So I decided we should be daring and adventurous, try something a little new.”

  She scanned the room, a little smile playing about her mouth. “I know you all are on the internet and performing what I would term social media experimentations every day. Well, now you get to do it for credit. I want you to take something you’re passionate about, some topic that inflames you, something with which you have had personal experience, and for four weeks, devote a blog to this subject. You’ll be responsible for promoting each post through other elements of social media that we will discuss in the seminar, and you will present a full report of your modes and methods of operation and all details, due at the final meeting of this seminar.”

  A low buzz filled the room, and Dr. Turner raised her voice. “All details are in the syllabus you received today. If you have any questions, you know my office hours. And may I just suggest, make your topic specific. Don’t bore me with any highbrow crap. I don’t want you giving me what you think I’ll like. Take something personal. If you have a weight problem, tackle that. If you’re struggling with a spiritual issue, that’s what I want you to explore. Take the lemons in your life and make them into delicious lemonade.”

  She clicked off the projector, letting us know that class was over. I closed my notebook and shoved it into my bag, thinking of her words. What kind of lemons could I use for lemonade?

  “Julia.” The girl f
rom behind me touched my shoulder, and I turned.

  “I just wanted to say, I’m sorry about before class. I know it sounded like I was being a bitch, or at least really nosy. But what I wanted to tell you is, I’ve been there. Guys are jerks. And if you ever need someone, you know, like a shoulder, I promise, I don’t have a big mouth.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. That’s really sweet. I’m doing okay.” I hesitated a moment. “You said you’ve been there—you mean—you don’t mean with him, do you?”

  She looked lost for a second and then her face cleared. “Oh, no, sorry. No, for me it was another asshole. A senior I dated when I was just a freshman. He really screwed me over.”

  An idea was taking root. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  She stuck out a hand. “Kristen. Kristen Howard.”

  “Good to meet you, Kristen. Do you have time to grab coffee?”

  “...so we met at a party, of course, and I didn’t find out he was actually dating someone else until we’d been going out for almost a month. And then he told me that he really wanted me, but his girlfriend was fragile, she’d had some kind of addiction, and he couldn’t break up with her yet. But he would. And yeah, I was dumb enough to believe him.”

  We sat in my favorite booth at Beans, each nursing a steaming cup of mocha java. Kristen played with the napkin that lay on the table.

  “That’s not dumb.” I shook my head. “You were a freshman. You liked him. My roommate Ava says trust is our natural state, most of us, at least, so it’s not unusual for us to get hurt sometimes.”

  “Well, maybe. I definitely gave him more than he deserved. I hung on for four months. I let him talk me into sleeping with him. And then he dumped me. His fragile girlfriend came to my dorm room and told me I wasn’t the first one he’d used. I don’t know why she was willing to stay with him, but she was. I heard they got married after graduation.”

  I snorted. “Talk about dumb. Why would you tie yourself to a guy you know is a cheater?”

  Kristen shrugged. “Right? Maybe she really was fragile. Anyway, that’s my story. I haven’t dated anyone seriously since then. No big deal. But being at the party last month and seeing what that jerk did to you brought it all back.”

  I took another sip of coffee. “Did you ever want to do anything to him? You know, like, revenge?”

  She laughed. “Oh, believe me, I thought about it. A lot. I just didn’t know what I could do that wouldn’t end up backfiring on me. I mean, he was a senior, on the football team—did I mention that? And I was just a mousy freshman who was stupid enough to fall in love with him.”

  “Yeah. I get that.” I sighed. “I was thinking about Dr. Turner’s assignment. She said to make it personal. So...what if this were my lemon? You know, guys like Liam and your ex. There’ve got to be other girls out there with stories like ours. What if that were my blog?”

  Kristen leaned forward. “That is freaking genius. Do you think she’d let us do a joint one? Would you want to?”

  I grinned. “I’d love it. Let’s talk to her. Do you have time tomorrow morning? I have to work at noon, but Dr. Turner has office hours at eleven.”

  “I’m in. I’ll meet you there.” Her eyes sparkled. “Would it be too corny if I said this might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship?”

  Giff was sitting on the floor outside my room when I got there after my coffee date with Kristen. I stopped short, staring at him until he saw me.

  “Oh, hey, Jules.” He struggled to his feet and, glancing over my shoulder, raised his voice a little. “I was just waiting to talk with Ava about RA business. Mind if I come inside until she gets back?”

  “Umm, sure.” I unlocked the door, and Giff followed me inside.

  “Sorry about that.” He sprawled onto Ava’s desk chair. “I didn’t want anyone to think I was here to see you.”

  “Well, thanks. Love you, too.”

  Giff made a face at me. “You know what I mean. We don’t want it getting around that I’m hanging out with you. Liam would think it’s weird.”

  “Again with the flattering.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Giff peeled away his coat and draped it over the end of the bed. “Or would you rather play quippy girl?”

  “You mean you didn’t come to trade snappy comebacks with me? Damn.” I kicked off my shoes and curled up on my bed.

  “Tomorrow night. Party at Alpha Delt. Be there at nine.”

  I sat up so fast I got a head rush. “Oh, no, my friend. No frat parties.”

  “Why not? And please remember who’s in charge here.”

  “Why not is because I don’t do frat parties. I went to one my first week in college, and I sat in a corner while all the other girls got drunk and did things with boys they didn’t know. Things I wouldn’t do with my boyfriend, if I had one, in the privacy of a very dark room.” I shuddered. “Not gonna happen.”

  Giff sighed, and for a moment he reminded me eerily of Ava. “Jules, you were a freshman, and that was the first week of school. Everyone’s a little crazy when they first get here. And Alpha Delt is one of the calmer fraternities.”

  I flopped back onto my pillow. “Is Liam going to be there?”

  “He is.”

  “Then I really shouldn’t go. The idea is for me stay away from him, remember? I distinctly recall you saying that.”

  “You’re not going to see him. Don’t worry.”

  “Then why am I going? Theoretically, I mean.”

  He grinned at me, those blue eyes sparkling. “He’s going to see you. Specifically, he’s going to see you leaving the party about the same time he gets there. And you will be leaving with Jack Duncan.”

  I shook my head. “Again I say to you—I don’t think so. Au contraire, mon frere. I know Jack Duncan. I mean, I’ve heard of him. Do you know what his nickname is? I do. It begins with an ‘f’ and kinda-sorta rhymes with Duncan.”

  Giff’s lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. “I have heard something about that. But Jack’s a good guy. He owes me a favor, and this is it.”

  The door opened, and Ava came in, shaking water from her head. “It’s raining. Last of the snow should be on the way out.”

  She caught sight of Giff. “Hey, it’s the puppet master. What’s up?”

  “Trying to convince our girl here to go to an Alpha Delt party tomorrow so Liam can see her leave with Jack Duncan.”

  Ava’s brows shot up. “Fuckin’ Duncan? No way. Wow.”

  “Yeah, but Jules isn’t impressed.”

  She swung on me. “Julia, this is perfect. Liam is going to die when he sees you with Jack. Trust us.”

  I glanced from one face to the next and threw up my hands. “Fine. Whatever. What time should I be there?”

  Giff jumped up and hugged me. “Perfect. You won’t be sorry. Ava will get you there by eight. You need to be walking out the door with Jack by ten. He knows the drill. Oh, and wear what Ava tells you to put on. She knows the game plan.”

  He dropped a kiss onto my cheek and put on his coat as he opened the door. “See you later, ladies.”

  I turned to look at my roommate. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Ava raised her hands, palms up. “Me? This was your idea. I’m just helping you run with it.”

  “Well, I think I’m running with it a little more than I’d planned. What do you know about blogs?”

  She tilted her head. “Fashion, make-up, book blogs...I follow a few. Why?”

  “I’m starting a blog for my social media class.”

  “Cool.” Ava stepped out of her shoes and began to change into sweats. “About what?”

  “Guys behaving badly. Girls telling their stories.”

  “Seriously?” She pulled a green Birch hoodie over her head and shook dark hair out of her eyes.

  “Yep. I’m calling it ‘Best Served Cold’, like the Chinese proverb, you know? Because the girls telling their stories is like getting their reven
ge.”

  “Yeah, I got that.” Ava considered for a moment and then nodded. “I like it. But how are you going to do it, exactly?”

  “We’re going to use social media to ask people to share their stories. Anonymously, of course. Then I’m hoping word of mouth will get around.”

  “What made you decide to start a blog?” She unrolled socks and pulled them on.

  I told her about my assignment and meeting Kristen, hearing about her freshman year angst.

  “What a jerk.” Ava shook her head. “I hear something like that, and I realize why I don’t date.”

  “I thought it was because you had to be single-mindedly focused on academics and then your career until you’re established and ready to really have a life.”

  She flipped me a rude gesture. “You have to admit, boy drama takes up a lot of time and energy.”

  “It does. Speaking of which, do you seriously think a frat party is a good idea?”

  “Yes. This is part of Giff’s plan. We go with it. But first, it’s your turn to make a run to the dining hall tonight.” She stuck her feet beneath the blankets on her bed. “Take an umbrella. It’s raining.”

  It was not only raining, it was a cold, biting downpour. I shivered into my coat and tried to tilt the umbrella so that it kept out the worst of the wet.

  The weather matched my mood. I knew Giff wanted to help, and that he was going so far out of his way made me love him even more. But I still wasn’t sure I could handle the idea of faking a date with someone I’d never even met, even for Giff.

  He’d always been in my corner, I remembered. He kept Liam honest most of the time—even when Liam would rather he kept quiet.

  We were all three in their suite. Liam sat at his desk, his nose in a thick textbook, and I was curled up in his bed, reading. Giff sprawled across his own bed, his back against the wall, nursing a beer. It wasn’t his first of the evening, and I could hear the slur in his voice, although he wasn’t saying much.

  I turned over and craned my neck to see my boyfriend. He frowned into his work, and I sighed, wondering why I had bothered to come over at all.