expression.
Jaeger’s wearing a red baseball cap and a navy T-shirt, his shoulder muscles bulging from the way he hunches to get his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans.
I swallow hard. Why does he have to look so good? The aftershave he wears mixed with fabric softener and something unique to him wafts toward me, and I want to tongue his neck. Damn him. I take a step back. Everything about this situation is just cruel.
He leans on the doorjamb, eyes blatantly running the length of me before resting on the pad in my hand.
“Come in.” My tone is terse, but whatever. I’m doing my best here. I toss the pad on the couch and walk to the bathroom door. The shower is finally off. “Gen! Jaeger’s here.”
When I turn around, Jaeger is staring at my sketch. I sweep over and pick it up, tucking it under my arm.
He looks me dead in the eye as if this, too, I’ve kept from him. “Nice drawing.”
“It’s nothing. Doodles. So—” I’d better say it before I’m too angry to. “—I wanted to thank you for helping out last night. Gen’s ex is a jerk. I didn’t want him bothering her.” I pause for a second, deciding how much of my feelings to reveal. “You were very convincing.”
Jaeger’s eyes narrow and he scans my face.
I duck my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. I shouldn’t have said that. Sliding the pad face-down on the kitchen counter, I shift loose papers around while we wait for Gen.
I always answer the door in my bikini top and it’s never bothered me before, but it does today. I should have put on a shirt, I think, adjusting the strings along my ribs. When I look up, Jaeger’s following the trail of my fingers. He quickly looks away.
This is awkward. “Want something to drink?”
He shakes his head and sinks onto the couch. Gen walks out of the bathroom in shorts and a T-shirt. She hurries into the bedroom, her wet hair dampening the back of her top. “Be ready in a minute,” she says, smiling prettily at Jaeger as she passes.
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence later, Gen pops back into the living room, hopping on one foot and fastening her flats, a small purse dangling across her chest. “Ready. Sorry to make you wait.”
Jaeger rises and moves to the door, opening it for her. He follows her out. “See you later, Cali.”
This is it. The defining moment when Jaeger goes from being an available guy to off-limits forever.
“Good-bye,” I say, but they’ve already left.
Instead of staring at the front door, waiting for Gen to return in order to interrogate her about her date with the guy I have a crush on, I check email. Two messages have arrived from Harvard Law, one with information on orientation, the other on financial aid.
It almost makes me angry how much the program will cost. I’ve considered deferring for a year, though that’s almost more painful. Like dragging out the inevitable. I never considered the money until this summer, working full-time for the first time in my life. The tuition isn’t a problem for the trust fund kids, but it is for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have ruled out the less expensive programs. But that doesn’t feel right either.
Law school is everything I’ve worked for, but lately it feels like someone else’s dream. The cost to attend would probably seem worth it if the program were something I felt passionate about. My mom used to joke about Tyler and me becoming lawyers and doctors, but really, she didn’t care what we became, as long as we made something of our lives. Tyler was the science geek, while I latched onto the idea of arguing for a living. That was a good enough reason ten years ago. Now, with a future in law staring me in the eye, I’m having second—and third—and fourth—thoughts.
My head’s messed up. I’m so confused and emotionally wrung out I don’t know which way is up. I shut off the computer, change my clothes, and grab the keys to Gen’s car. It won’t help my mood to be here when they
Jaeger’s wearing a red baseball cap and a navy T-shirt, his shoulder muscles bulging from the way he hunches to get his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans.
I swallow hard. Why does he have to look so good? The aftershave he wears mixed with fabric softener and something unique to him wafts toward me, and I want to tongue his neck. Damn him. I take a step back. Everything about this situation is just cruel.
He leans on the doorjamb, eyes blatantly running the length of me before resting on the pad in my hand.
“Come in.” My tone is terse, but whatever. I’m doing my best here. I toss the pad on the couch and walk to the bathroom door. The shower is finally off. “Gen! Jaeger’s here.”
When I turn around, Jaeger is staring at my sketch. I sweep over and pick it up, tucking it under my arm.
He looks me dead in the eye as if this, too, I’ve kept from him. “Nice drawing.”
“It’s nothing. Doodles. So—” I’d better say it before I’m too angry to. “—I wanted to thank you for helping out last night. Gen’s ex is a jerk. I didn’t want him bothering her.” I pause for a second, deciding how much of my feelings to reveal. “You were very convincing.”
Jaeger’s eyes narrow and he scans my face.
I duck my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. I shouldn’t have said that. Sliding the pad face-down on the kitchen counter, I shift loose papers around while we wait for Gen.
I always answer the door in my bikini top and it’s never bothered me before, but it does today. I should have put on a shirt, I think, adjusting the strings along my ribs. When I look up, Jaeger’s following the trail of my fingers. He quickly looks away.
This is awkward. “Want something to drink?”
He shakes his head and sinks onto the couch. Gen walks out of the bathroom in shorts and a T-shirt. She hurries into the bedroom, her wet hair dampening the back of her top. “Be ready in a minute,” she says, smiling prettily at Jaeger as she passes.
A few seconds of uncomfortable silence later, Gen pops back into the living room, hopping on one foot and fastening her flats, a small purse dangling across her chest. “Ready. Sorry to make you wait.”
Jaeger rises and moves to the door, opening it for her. He follows her out. “See you later, Cali.”
This is it. The defining moment when Jaeger goes from being an available guy to off-limits forever.
“Good-bye,” I say, but they’ve already left.
Instead of staring at the front door, waiting for Gen to return in order to interrogate her about her date with the guy I have a crush on, I check email. Two messages have arrived from Harvard Law, one with information on orientation, the other on financial aid.
It almost makes me angry how much the program will cost. I’ve considered deferring for a year, though that’s almost more painful. Like dragging out the inevitable. I never considered the money until this summer, working full-time for the first time in my life. The tuition isn’t a problem for the trust fund kids, but it is for me. Maybe I shouldn’t have ruled out the less expensive programs. But that doesn’t feel right either.
Law school is everything I’ve worked for, but lately it feels like someone else’s dream. The cost to attend would probably seem worth it if the program were something I felt passionate about. My mom used to joke about Tyler and me becoming lawyers and doctors, but really, she didn’t care what we became, as long as we made something of our lives. Tyler was the science geek, while I latched onto the idea of arguing for a living. That was a good enough reason ten years ago. Now, with a future in law staring me in the eye, I’m having second—and third—and fourth—thoughts.
My head’s messed up. I’m so confused and emotionally wrung out I don’t know which way is up. I shut off the computer, change my clothes, and grab the keys to Gen’s car. It won’t help my mood to be here when they
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