Something More Page 4

  “That’s a crap answer. I knew your type in high school. You were the bane of my existence. I’m sure you were the bane of her existence too.” Ethan glared at Jamison.

  “Well, I’m not that person anymore.” He meant it too; he didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

  “Why not? What’s different now?” Jamison didn’t know. He didn’t have the answer; he simply knew he had to prove himself to Nyla, to Ethan, and to everyone else in the world. He just hoped he’d get the second chance that he also knew that he didn’t deserve.

  “I don’t know; I got bored with it or something maybe.” He truly didn’t have the answers or know how to make it up to Nyla for the way he had treated her in high school. But he was determined to.

  Chapter 4

  She halfway expected to see Jamison sitting in the middle of the lecture hall surrounded by girls ogling him. But she scanned all the faces, looking for his or a friendlier familiar face. He wasn’t there; she crossed her fingers, hoping she was lucky enough not to share another class with him. After a few minutes scanning faces she didn’t recognize, she found a familiar one. Maddie from her Spanish and anthropology study groups sat near the front. At the same moment, she saw Nyla and waved frantically. Nyla smiled and walked toward her. Maddie was a pretty girl with jet black hair and sun-kissed skin. She had light freckles all over her round face, and a petite figure. Her narrow brown eyes were almost almond shaped. She said her eyes were a rarity for her Philippine descent. She was a beauty through and through.

  “Can I sit with you?” Nyla asked shyly.

  “I’d be offended if you didn’t,” Maddie smiled. Nyla climbed over her and sat with a seat between them.

  She took out her handheld recorder, a notebook, and a pencil. She began doodling on the page she had opened.

  “Hey, Jami, you gonna sit with us?” Maddie asked flirtatiously. Nyla didn’t look up from her note pad; instead, she doodled a hole into the next page.

  “If it’s OK with you, I’d like to. I don’t know anyone else in this class, it looks like.”

  “Of course. I can scoot down.” She began shifting her things.

  “No, this seat is fine. He plopped down between Maddie and Nyla and leaned forward and dug in his bag for a notepad and something to write with. Nyla looked anxiously over at Maddie, but she didn’t share Nyla’s concern; she had a wide smile across her face. Nyla stacked her things to move over a seat, but someone was sitting beside her on the other side. She looked around the room, but all the seats were taken. She was stuck. She looked back at Jamison. A small, crooked smile crept into the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the rest of the class. Maddie leaned in and whispered something to him. He chuckled and smiled at her charmingly. Nyla leaned away from them. The boy sitting beside her looked a little annoyed, but she didn’t care. Jamison continued to shower attention on Maddie as the professor came in. Nyla was annoyed, more so than the boy sharing her armrest. She wasn’t sure if it was purely his existence, or because he was capable of being nice. In fact, he had always been nice to everyone except her. She didn’t know why she expected anything to change in college. Although he hadn’t been mean to her, he had gone out of his way to be nice to her. She didn’t know which behavior made her more nervous. She was relieved when the professor began his lecture. She took detailed notes and doodled when there wasn’t anything worth noting, making graffiti-esque words and checker boards in her margins. Jamison leaned on their shared arm rest. She kept bumping him, but he didn’t move; he left his arm there against her. When class was over, she gathered her things as fast as she could. Then she sat back as the room cleared out. She didn’t want to fight the crowd for the two narrow doors. Once the aisle was clear, she made her way out. Standing there against the window with his back pack thrown over his shoulder was Ethan. She exhaled with relief.

  “Lunch?” he asked.

  “Sounds good.” They discovered a deli just off campus. She told him about her lecture, and he told her about his classes that morning. They spoke freely and comfortably. She didn’t mention Jamison; however, he was in her thoughts. She felt like she was beginning to obsess. She didn’t want even to think about Jamison; she wanted to enjoy her time with Ethan.

  “And that was when I said ‘Henry, the placement of the comma depends on whether ‘I ate grandmother’ or ‘I ate, grandmother’.” He laughed at the elementary school joke. She smiled. “Well, we all laughed, even Henry.” He continued dominating the conversation. This she allowed, remaining silent and eating her salad and half sandwich.. She watched him—His quirky expression when he was about to say something witty. He pushed up his glasses every so often out of habit, not necessity. She leaned into him and could smell his musky smell. It wasn’t a bad smell at all; it was a natural smell. It actually stirred something in her. She didn’t understand that, but she liked the way he smelled without cologne. He spoke of his hippy parents who made him decide his own punishments growing up. Once he chose dessert for dinner for a week. After that he didn’t eat sweets for three years. She laughed at that story. He was very charismatic in his story telling, using voices and mimicking facial expressions. After they’d sat there for an hour and half, they stood, left a tip, and exited the deli. He’s nice, she thought. He could make me happy, couldn’t he? He walked her toward her street, to her apartment, and invited her to the library. She declined, stating that she would rather go home to study. She hugged him goodbye at her front door. He looked at her strangely, but accepted it.

  Jamison did his homework and was lounging on the couch when Ethan came home. It was pretty late in the afternoon. He figured Ethan spent the afternoon with Nyla. He’d seen them leave campus together.

  “How was your study session with your girlfriend?” Jamison followed this with kissing noises.

  “It’s not like that; I was at the library, alone,” Ethan sounded annoyed. He went to his room and put his books away. Jamison smiled to himself.

  “You guys going out tonight?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

  “No, we haven’t set another date.” Jamison rolled his lips to keep from smiling too big.

  “Then you know what we need to do? He stood and rubbed his hands together.

  “What’s that?” Ethan slumped into the armchair.

  “Throw a housewarming party.” Jamison reached for his phone. He had about fifty new numbers in his phone from people he’d met on campus already.

  “I don’t know. Don’t we need to send out invites and get refreshments?” Ethan looked nervously toward his messy room.

  “This isn’t your twelfth birthday party; it’s only five now. I’ll get a text invite going and hit the store. You straighten up around here and call Nyla. Invite her and anyone else you want. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Tell her come around nine-thirty.” He went to his room, grabbed his keys and wallet, and returned to the front door, putting his hand on the doorknob. Ethan sat there, still staring at his bedroom.

  “Go on, Romeo. Clean it up; give yourself an excuse to get her in there and get those drawls.” Everything inside him violently convulsed as it fought that statement. But he wanted to project the appearance of a supportive friend. He shut the door and fell against the wall for support. Why did the thought of Nyla being intimate with someone affect him like that? He didn’t get it. He thought maybe he felt protective of her, not wanting her to make any mistakes, but that theory didn’t feel quite right. This feeling went right along with the panic he felt at the thought of not seeing her every day. He steadied himself and went to the market on the corner. He got chips, dip, a fruit and veggie tray, pop, ice, and texted one of his over twenty-one friends the list for alcohol. In that short amount of time, he already had thirty confirmations. Back at the apartment set the bags on the counter as Ethan came out with the dust pan. Jamison got to cleaning too. It wasn’t hard. His mother had raised him in a meticulously clean house. It had rubbed off on him. He didn’t complain about Ethan’s cluttered room much because he cou
ld always close the door. He made his bed every day and did a load of laundry every few days so that it wasn’t too piled up. So it only took him an hour to clean the apartment. Ethan finished his room around the same time. They both took showers, Ethan in the main bathroom, Jamison in his masterbath. It was close to eight when the first guests began to arrive. His friend who brought the alcohol brought a few friends. They began to set up food and a drink station. Most of the guest arrived at eight-thirty.

  “I thought you said the party was starting at nine-thirty?” Ethan asked, confused.

  “No, I told you to tell Nyla to arrive around nine-thirty.” Jamison fixed a pretty blond girl a drink and winked as he handed it to her.

  “Thanks, Jami.” She fanned herself, giggling to her friends in the corner as she walked away from him.

  “Why did you tell me to tell her nine-thirty?” Ethan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

  “Because,” he handed him a red plastic cup, “you need a drink or two in you first, and she can make an entrance. She’ll probably show up around nine fifteen anyway; she’s always early, and if there’s a full house, she won’t be so intimidated. Trust me; I know her.” Jamison took a drink from his own cup. Ethan followed his lead and took a drink. He winced and swallowed hard.

  “What is this?” He grimaced.

  “Crown and coke.” Jamison tipped his cup to toast. “Here’s to an evening to remember, or forget, but regardless, here’s to an evening.” Ethan looked at him, confused as he tapped his cup to Jamison’s. They both took another drink. Jamison didn’t wince as Ethan did, and he was a little jealous of how smoothly it went down for Jamison.

  “Time to mingle; don’t hold up the counter. Make yourself useful, and be sociable.” Jamison patted him on the back as he went to a circle of people talking in the living room. Ethan watched Jamison command the room with his confidence and without thinking took another drink. This drink was a little easier going down. He found the guys from one of his study groups, and Jamison smirked at his predictability. He didn’t go to strangers. This was his house; he should have been comfortable talking to anyone, but he went to a comfortable zone. Jamison shook his head as the door opened. He looked up and saw Nyla. She wore a black, spaghetti-strapped dress. Her hair hung in long, loose curls and her bangs were pulled back off her face. He gasped quietly. One of the guys he was talking to looked at her and swore under his breath.

  “Introduce me.” He nudged Jamison. Jamison shook his head.

  “She’s taken.” He held up his cup toward Ethan, who was walking toward her with a goofy grin on his face.

  “Too bad.” He went back to the conversation. Jamison nodded but couldn’t take his eyes off Ethan and Nyla.

  “You made it,” Ethan smiled and kissed her cheek. He smelled like liquor. She scrunched her nose.

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Yeah, a little. Do you want something to drink?” She looked around the party. Everyone had drinks. Jamison was engrossed in conversation, but he also had a drink in his hand. She nodded, and he took her hand and led her to the kitchen area. What do you want? She looked around confused. She didn’t know; she rarely drank, and when she did, it was usually a hard lemonade or wine cooler. All these bottles were hard liquors and expensive.

  “A state fair.” Jamison stepped behind her, putting his hands on her waist so that he could squeeze between the counter and her.

  “What’s that?” She looked at him with wide innocent eyes.

  “Vodka, Seven-Up, and Lemonade.” He poured it over ice as he explained. He handed it to her; she tasted it and smiled.

  “This is nice.” Ethan shook his head, annoyed that she didn’t grimace when she drank, too. He wondered if he was the only one who didn’t like the taste of liquor. Jamison refilled his Crown and coke. They mingled and talked and laughed with their friends. Jamison realized she’d finally come into her own. This was where she belonged. He smiled at how comfortable she was.

  “You want some privacy?” Ethan asked as he staggered into her. It was obvious to her he didn’t drink often.

  “Yeah, sure.” She offered, he didn’t notice the tension of her voice, all he heard was that she said yes.

  “Refill.” Ethan held up his cup triumphantly that he had finished his second drink already and took hers. Then he staggered to the counter and tried to remember how Jamison mixed their drinks earlier. He returned a few minutes later and took her hand. She looked around the room, feeling eyes on her, but no one seemed to notice. She took a long sip and the vodka burned as it slid down her throat. He led her to his bedroom, a nice room with nice furniture. She wondered if the apartment was completely furnished or if this was his furniture. Knowing Jamison’s family, it was furnished. He turned on his stereo and played a CD. It was a slow song. He wrapped an arm around her waist and taking her hand, he began to rock back and forth. She rested her head against his shoulder, finally feeling the tightness in her chest ease. She wasn’t a center of attention, college party kind of girl. She was a stay in and talk kind of girl.

  “This is nice,” she said softly.

  “I get nervous in crowds.” He slurred his words a little.

  “I like your room.” She rocked with him off beat.

  “I like you.” He took a sip and she smiled.

  “Is that your confidence in a cup?” she teased.

  “Not everyone is as suave as you and Jamison and can drink so smoothly.”

  “Did you see how much vodka he put in my drink? Barely even a shot. Unlike you when you topped it off.” She shook her head and looked up in his glazed eyes.

  “Oh,” was all he said, as he continued to sway off beat. She turned him around and allowed him to sit down on the side of the bed. She sat down beside him and took another drink. He fell back and stared at the ceiling. She caught his cup before it spilled and sat it on his nightstand.

  “I want to kiss you so bad.” He didn’t look at her. She laughed nervously but didn’t answer him; instead she took another sip of her drink. He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t open them. She sat there watching him. Then he began to snore. She took off his glasses and his shoes. Pulling down his blanket on the other side of the bed she convinced him to roll over so she could cover him up. She turned off the lights and closed his door behind her. She was beginning to feel the vodka. She steadied herself. Jamison made a beeline for her,

  “Are you OK?” He held her at her elbow as she smiled thankfully at him.

  “Ethan obviously didn’t attend the Jamison Wilson Bartending School.” She held up her cup. He smelled it and winced.

  “Wow, and you drank it?” He took it from her. It was almost gone.

  “I didn’t want to be rude.” She waved her hands as she talked, and he began to lead her back to the kitchen when she stopped abruptly.

  “I need to go; I have to work tomorrow.” He looked at the clock; it was only eleven.

  “OK. I’ll walk you out.” She nodded and staggered toward the sofa table to get her purse. “Whoa, maybe I should walk you home.” He took her arm again and steadied her.

  “That might be a good idea.” She leaned into him. He reached around her and grabbed her clutch. In one hand he carried her purse, and the other one wrapped around her waist as he walked her to the elevator. They didn’t talk much for the first half of the walk home. She leaned against him and smelled his distinct fragranced scent. It was so different from Ethan, but it gave her the same stirring if not more. She caught her breath a few times, and he looked down at her quizzically.

  “Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

  “You always knew how to throw a party,” she chuckled, though she’d never attended his parties after their sisters went off to college, she’d just heard the rumors. He nodded, remembering all the parties he or Lindsey threw when his parents went out of town. Lindsey had taught him well in the art of hosting.

  Nyla giggled suddenly bombarded w
ith happy memories of Jamison as she said, “Remember when we were in eighth grade and my mom went to that conference, and we stayed with you guys that weekend?” She snuggled closer to him; he tightened his grip on her.

  “Yeah, you and I rented all those movies. Uggh, those romantic comedies. What was your thing with Sandra Bullock?” He laughed.

  “I seem to remember a particular scary movie, and I couldn’t sleep that night.” She shook her head, laughing.

  “Oh, yeah. You kept hearing noises and making me go check them out. My mom tried to get you to sleep in the guest room, and you said you didn’t want to be alone.” She had ended up crawling into bed with him. He smiled thinking about the cuddling they had done.

  “And Nadia and Lindsey threw a fit and wouldn’t let me sleep in their room,” she continued.

  “My parents wouldn’t have even known they’d thrown a get-together that night if they hadn’t found all the movies we had in my room. I hated Lindsey sometimes for locking us in my room during those parties.” She put her arm around his back, stumbling a little as he tightened his grip on her and crushed her against him.

  “I thought you hated Lindsey for locking you in your room with me because you hated me,” she said quietly. They were outside her building now.

  “I didn’t hate you then.” He said it before he thought about it.

  “Then,” she repeated and nodded her head, understanding what he was saying. She pulled away from him. “Thank you for walking me home.” She turned to climb the stairs and stumbled forward. He grabbed her, trying to soften the fall, but she still scraped up her knee. Her eyes watered, and he knelt down in front of her with her calf in his hands as he looked at it. Then he looked up at her looking so fragile.

  “Where are your keys?” She handed them over. He helped her stand, and then into her aprartment. After unlocking her door, he led her to the sofa. She sat down. He went to the kitchen and ripped off a couple of papertowels and wet them.. He knelt in front of her and dabbed her knee delicately. She winced in pain as she leaned her head on her elbow watching him.