Page 35 of The Lake of Lost Girls

I glanced at my friends, who weren’t even trying to be discreet as they openly gaped at us. “I’m Jess.”

“Just Jess?” he titled his head, his smile widening.

“Jess Fadley.” I chuckled awkwardly. “So, what now? Do we shake hands? Hug?”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Make out?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Well, you didn’t shoot me down entirely. I take that as a good sign.” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “You’re giving me hope, Jess. And that’s a dangerous thing.”

Just the sound of his voice so close had my nerve endings on fire. I had a feeling he knew exactly what he was doing. Aguy didn’t look like Ryan McKay and not get what he wanted when he wanted it.

It made me feel special that he seemed to want me. And that was my catnip.

I looked over at my pledge sisters again and dreaded the inevitable interrogation if he sat with us. The endless questions, the embarrassing innuendo. I couldn’t deal with all that today. The last thing I wanted was to be the source of discussion.

“I don’t think sitting with us is such a great idea. You seem like a decent guy, Ryan, I can’t throw you to the wolves like that.”

Ryan looked disappointed. “I think I can handle myself.”

“Seriously, maybe another time,” I said quickly before he could move past me toward the table.

Ryan seemed to finally pick up on my hesitation. He glanced again at the table full of my friends. “Fine, but that means you have to give me a raincheck.”

I felt myself relax again, glad he didn’t push it. If he had, I would have inevitably backed down. I was no match for men who wanted something. “Oh yeah? Says who?”

Ryan tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and grinned. “Says the red flush on your neck.”

I rolled my eyes, but could feel my skin growing hotter. “You really are full of yourself.”

“Sorry to interrupt you guys, but we have to head back to the dorm, Jess,” Daisy called out, clearly trying to get my attention. I didn’t want to keep her waiting, particularly after our earlier disagreement.

“I should get going.”

“Can I get your number? Maybe we can go see a movie tomorrow—”

“I’m leaving to head home for Christmas break first thing in the morning,” I interrupted, my insides tripping over themselves. “But … call me when break is over.”

Ryan put his tray down and fished a piece of paper and a pen from his backpack. I hastily rattled off the number to myroom. When he had written it down, he carefully folded it and put it in his pocket, patting it with a smile.

“I’m calling you as soon as we get back.”

“Is that a threat?” He was so easy to talk to. He made me feel as if a regular kind of life was possible.

He leaned in close, his lips deliciously close to my own. “Only if you want it to be.”

Then he walked away. And I was left flustered and full of anticipation. I hoped the feelings would last.

I traveled the normal streets that would lead me home. It would be a short journey, barely enough time to drink my coffee. I should have turned left at the light onto Meadow Lane, then right onto Franklin Boulevard.

Instead I headed straight on Plymouth Avenue, passing the old movie theater with its 1950s style marquee and the empty flower stall outside the florist. All the houses looked the same, having been built in the same cookie-cutter style sometime after the turn of the century. Pale colored siding, dark shutters, four windows, and a door at the front.

I glimpsed the same old buildings I had seen every day of my short life. The still-broken fence in front of my doctor’s office that had blown down in a hurricane three years ago. The overgrown field behind my old elementary school that we used to run through after the last bell.

Plain. Small. Nondescript. Tired. Confined.

Mt. Randall was many things, not many of them good.

---