Melinda Di Lorenzo - Bad Reputation

By the time I got back to my dorm, the unsettled feeling in my stomach had calmed enough for me to begin thinking about my next move.

I woke up to find myself sitting up. Admittedly, that was a new one. Asleep in my truck, or fully dressed in my bed, or dozing on some girl’s floor—those were to be expected after my monthly night of freedom. This was a new low. The sense of dread wracking my body was all too familiar. I didn’t have to think too hard to recognize the relationship between the three things—the sixth of every month, feeling sick, and the parade of women—but I chose not to acknowledge it. I shoved aside the automatic connection and assessed my situation instead.

I started by trying to recall the events of the evening before.

Everything was an unpleasant blur that started with the Jell-O shooter girl and ended with me waking up with a stiff back and an aching head.

Where was your brain last night, Joey?

The problem wasn’t even the seven watered-down shots. I could drink twice that and keep standing. It was just that it was the same thing every month. I flirted with a few girls, sorted through them like a deck of cards, and went home with whichever one was most likely to kick me out before the night was through. I had getting tastefully out-of-hand down to a damned science.

I stretched my legs across the hallway as I planned my escape from the dorm. I knew I needed to get out before some girl saw me.

That was when I saw the mismatched shoes approaching at breakneck speed. They flashed—green/gold, green/gold—in contrast with the speckled linoleum.

What the —

My thought cut off as I realized that the girl attached to the shoes hadn’t seen me, and wasn’t going to stop.

Green/gold, green/gold, green/gold.

“Hey!” I yelled.

My warning was about two seconds too late, and suddenly a swirl of vanilla-scented hair cascaded across my face. I inhaled, trying to catch a bit more of the pleasant smell.

As she stumbled and reached out for the wall, I caught sight of her face. It was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen. She had a perfect, upturned nose and a mouth that begged to be kissed. An attractive smattering of freckles peppered her nose, and when she stared down at me, I saw her eyes were a gorgeous, deep brown. I took her hand to steady her and a jolt of electric attraction swept through me.

Her eyes held mine for a second longer. Desire played across her features, made obvious by the flush in her cheeks and the parting of her lips.

Forget it , I grumbled at myself. You’re in enough trouble as it is .

She recovered quickly and snatched her hand away. I made myself smile, polite but reserved, then asked if she was okay. Her response sounded as forced as my politeness, like she was trying to cover that hint of raw passion.

Why was she hiding it? I wondered.

I wanted to know.

Damn .

I felt a nearly unfamiliar pull on my heart, and tried to think of something to say to make her stay.

She shook her head at me, then walked away stiffly. I watched her go, mesmerized by the smooth, curved line of her backside as she moved. She was quick, and in a second she was gone.

She’s going to get away . I jumped to my feet.

I jogged to the end of the corridor and shoved open the door. The hall on the other side split in two and I didn’t know which way she’d gone, or even if she’d taken the stairs or the elevator. Feeling desperate, I pushed aside a potted plant and pressed my face against the window.

I peered outside. My heart lifted when I caught a flash of red moving across the commons, but when I blinked, the flash was gone.

Damn , I thought again, followed by another, far less pleasant mental exclamation.

I made my way back into the hall full of bedroom doors, an unusual sense of loss hanging over me.

Feelings, too closely linked to my past, struggled to find their way to the surface of my mind. Why now? What was it about the seconds-long encounter with the redhead that had brought them out? I ran my fingers through my hair, a dangerous recklessness coursing through my veins.

I tried to shove it down.

She was just a girl. A pretty, sexy, damned-near-perfect-to-look-at girl, but just a girl nonetheless.

I immediately wondered where she was going, and if she was meeting someone. I wondered what kind of guy got a girl like that to pay attention to him. I was envious of him, whoever he might be.

You’re being ridiculous . You’re getting jealous over the fictional boyfriend of some girl you’ve never met .

I felt angry at myself and at the girl. I knew that I had to find her, even if it was just to prove I was wrong about what I was feeling, or maybe about the fact that I was feeling.

With a sigh, I strode to the door that belonged to the girl who had booted me out the night before. I knocked, then waited. After a few seconds with no answer, I knocked again, more loudly.

“What time is it?” muttered a feminine voice from behind the door.

“Early,” replied another.

I tapped a third time, attempting to make it sound worth answering. I heard some shuffling, and the door squeaked open a few inches. A tired blue eye peeked out at me.

“Hi,” I greeted with a smile.

The girl opened the door a little further and eyed me curiously from behind a mess of blonde hair. I didn’t recognize her, but I continued to smile anyway.

“Hi,” she said back hesitantly.

The door swung open all the way, and a tall brunette stepped into view. She glared at me. Her angry expression was familiar enough, but aside from that, I didn’t recognize her any more than I did the blonde. Of course, it wasn’t the first time I’d forgotten a face, either.

“This is a girls’-only dorm,” the brunette snapped. “What do you want?”

“Probably to talk to me ,” said a voice from across the hall.

I spun around, relieved to finally see a girl who I did recognize.

“Morning, Patty,” I said.

“It’s Peggy,” she corrected.

“Easy mistake?” I offered.

She tossed my keys at me, and I grabbed them out of the air before they could hit my already aching head. Peggy slammed the door.

I turned back to the other girls. “I don’t suppose you want to help me?”

The brunette rolled her eyes, but the blonde hesitated. I turned on my best smile, and the girl’s mouth went up tentatively at the corners, too.

“With what?” she wanted to know.

“Just some information. Do you know a redhead who lives in this dorm?”

“There are three of them,” called the brunette.

The blonde shrugged apologetically. “She’s grumpy, but she’s right. You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“She’s…” I paused.

I’d been going to say she was the prettiest woman I’d ever seen, but that probably wasn’t the best way of getting another girl to help me find out who she was. Even if it was true.

“She’s what?” the blonde prodded.

“Short,” I replied lamely. “She was wearing mismatched shoes. She had an army-green backpack.”

“He means the hippie!” the roommate yelled.

The blonde frowned. “Seriously? That’s who you’re looking for? Why?”

The brunette was back at the door, scrutinizing my appearance. I looked down at my white T-shirt and sports shorts. Judging from the brunette’s face, my clothes definitely fell short of whatever her expectations were. It wasn’t my finest look, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

“I doubt you’re her type,” she told me. “She’s probably into guys who hug trees and wear hemp pants.”