“He’ll have more fun too,” Jules said. “And so will you… ” She snatched the sketch pad from Dana and stared at it, scowling at the image. “…while we are burning this picture.”
Dana grabbed the pad back, her good humor slipping just a little. She understood that Jules was being protective of her, and angry at the man who’d hurt her. But really, it was only Dana who knew everything that had gone on.
“I’m not ready to,” she said. “And seriously, this isn’t all his fault.”
“What’s not his fault?” Jules asked. Her posing and pouting was over now, and she stalked Dana’s room like a cat looking for a mouse. “Being thirty-eight and married, fucking his student, or breaking up with her by email?”
“I knew what I was getting into,” Dana said, looking at the picture and silently acknowledging how much crap that was. She hadn’t known at all. In retrospect she’d come to understand it all, but that was what learning by mistakes was all about.
“Right,” Jules said. “Dana Polk, homewrecker. Puh-leeze.” She moved to the dresser, and started rifling shamelessly through Dana’s open drawers. Dana loved Jules as a best friend, but sometimes she was so damn… close.
“You know what I—” she began.
“You know what you’re getting into this weekend?” Jules asked, her mood brightening again. She was holding up Dana’s little wine-colored bikini. “This. And if Holden’s as cute as Curt says he is, possibly out of it as well.”
“That’s the last thing—” Dana said, then she saw the truth behind Jules’s smile. “If you guys treat this like a set-up, I’m gonna have no fun at all.”
“I’m not pushing,” Jules said, doing exactly the opposite. She crossed to Dana’s bed, flipped up her suitcase’s lid and ran her hands over the surface of the stuff she’d already packed. “Hmm. But we are packing the bikini. Which means…” She pulled the textbooks out and dropped them on the bed, one, two, three. “…we definitely won’t have room for these.”
“Oh, come on, what if I’m bored?”
Jules gasped and looked at her, and Dana closed her eyes, realizing just how lame that sounded.
“These’ll help?” Jules said. “Soviet Economic Structures? Aftermath of the Cultural…?” She tossed one of the books theatrically across the bed, not even blinking when it bounced onto the floor.
If that cover is broken, the library will charge me, Dana thought.
“No!” Jules cried, grasping the remaining two books to her chest. “We have a lake! And a keg! We are girls on the verge of going wild— Just look at my hair, woman!”
Dana looked, and nodded, and she had to admit to herself, Yeah, this has the feel of being an epic weekend.
“It is great,” she said, and she was about to add more when a voice called from the doorway—
“Think fast!”
Curt had only been listening for a few seconds— well, maybe thirty… okay, perhaps a minute—and while the idea of snooping for longer on his girlfriend and her hot friend had its attractions, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He thought of himself as a decent guy, and decent guys didn’t do things like that.
Besides, there was the risk he’d hear something he didn’t want to. And he’d been timing himself.
So swinging around the corner into the room and throwing the football had seemed a suitable way to overcome his slight embarrassment. Perhaps he should have thought to check on whether both girls were dressed.
One of them let out a surprised yelp, though he didn’t know which one. As the ball sailed between them and directly through the open window, he had an instant to register two facts about the view: one, his girlfriend’s hair had changed color; and two, Dana was only wearing a shirt and panties.
It took him only a heartbeat to confirm that he liked both things.
“Well, faster than that,” he said, grinning.
“Curt!” Jules snapped, but he was already darting into the room. He shoved them toward the window, and all three of them looked out to see what had become of the ball.
It was a nice street, with close-built three-story town houses, mostly given over to student accommodations, and a variety of vehicles parked along the curbside. Some students had new cars bought for them when they came to college, others had to buy their own— gleam sat next to rust, but both seemed very much at home here. The whole place exuded a good vibe, and that’s why Curt liked it so much.
Also out on the street was a guy dropping his duffle bag and rushing sideways into the road, hand reaching, arms stretching, feet leaving the road surface as he leapt. And the thrown football landed in his hands as if drawn by some invisible force.
The squeal of brakes was only slight—a perturbed gasp rather than an upset screech—and the car that touched his leg seemed to do so almost tenderly.
“Yes!” the guy said, holding the ball up in one hand. Then he became more contrite, backing out of the road and half-bending so he could look in at the car’s driver. “Sorry,” Curt heard him say. “Sorry. Move along.” “Niiice!” Curt breathed. Damn, the guy could catch. He detected disapproval battering him from both sides, so he remained looking out into the street. The guy saw him and waved up.
“Is that Holden?” Dana asked.
“Come on up!” Curt called, and he thought, Is that interest I hear in her sweet little voice? He took a step back so he could look from Jules to Dana, speaking to both of them. “Just transferred from State,” he confirmed. “Best hands on the team. He’s a sweet guy.” “And he’s good with his hands,” Jules said, looking pointedly at Dana.
Curt laughed out loud, then let his laughter fade away as his expression dropped into one of embarrassment.
“Um, hi,” he said to Jules. “I’m sort of seeing this girl, but, uh, you’re way blonder than she is, and I was thinking we could… ” He glimpsed the book she was holding to her chest, and abandoned the play. Time for another angle. “What is this?” He snatched the books from her, tugging lightly when she tried to resist. She growled, but he knew when her eyes were smiling.
“What are these?” he demanded. “What are you doing with these?”
“Okay,” Dana said, “I get it, I’ll—”
“Where did you get these?” Curt asked Jules, stretching the joke. “Who taught you about these?”
“I learned it from you, okay?” Jules gushed, holding one hand up to her forehead, feigning tears and storming breezily out of the room.
Curt was enjoying himself. He felt Dana’s slight discomfort, but he was also enjoying denying her the opportunity to pull on her pants. His girlfriend sure chose some cute friends, that he could say. He leaned close to Dana, struggling to keep his eyes on her face and not those long, smooth legs.
“Seriously?” he said, voice anything but. “Professor Bennett covers this whole book in his lectures. Read the Gurovsky; it’s way more interesting and Bennett doesn’t know it by heart, so he’ll think you’re insightful.
“And you have no pants.”
He smiled, threw the books on the bed and shouted out into the living room, “Holden! Crazy mad skills of catching!” Behind him he heard Dana’s small gasp of panic, and he glanced back to see her hauling her jeans up over her thighs and shapely behind.
Damn, he thought, eyes off, Curt. Eyes off.
As he left the bedroom Dana followed him out. He hoped he hadn’t upset her. It was set to be a momentous weekend; the great outdoors, beer, and sex. But probably not in that order, and in far from equal quantities.