Page 17 of Choosing You

They walk off and I’m left wondering what they’re hiding from me. There’s something they’re not telling me about Garret. And why did Sierra call him a heartbreaker? Does he use girls? Maybe Jasmine’s sister really did get hurt by this guy. I don’t know, but it reaffirms that I need to make sure Garret is a friend and only a friend.

CHAPTERSIX

At 7:10,Garret’s knocking on my door. As I open it, I prepare to comment on his lateness, but I forget all about it when I see him.

I don’t know how it’s possible but he looks even hotter than he did at lunch. He’s wearing dark jeans and a light blue polo shirt that makes his eyes an even richer shade of ocean blue. The shirt hugs his muscular shoulders, drawing my attention to his body again, which I can’t seem to take my eyes off of. I’m sure under that shirt he’s hiding some ripped abs developed through all those hours in the pool.

“What are you all dressed up for?” I ask, trying to sound cool.

“I’m not dressed up. I’m wearing jeans and a shirt.”

He’s also wearing some really great cologne.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” He looks at himself as if he’s questioning his choice.

I love that I’m making him self-conscious. I don’t know why. I have no reason to keep picking on the poor guy.

“Why do you care if I like it?”

“I don’t.” He stands up straighter and crosses his arms across his chest. “So do I get to critique your outfit now?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

He looks me up and down. “Classic black t-shirt and jeans. It looks good on you.”

“Not that I care what you think, but thanks. Can we go now?”

He smiles. I think he’s starting to enjoy my insults.

We go to a Thai restaurant in a strip mall near campus. It’s nothing fancy, which is good. And the meals are $8-10. Also good. Garret says nothing when I pay for my own meal. He wouldn’t dare after the earlier grocery store incident.

After that, we go to the party I’ve been dreading. I went to a few parties in high school but never liked them. I couldn’t be around all that alcohol. It brought back too many memories of my childhood.

The party is in an old, run-down house. We walk into an open room that has a couple beat-up couches and a coffee table sitting off to the side. That’s it for furniture. It’s almost like the house is only used for parties, not to live in. Or if Moorhurst had a Greek system, this place would make a great frat house.

It’s 8:30, so it’s not too crowded yet, but the people who are there are already drunk. A makeshift bar is set up in the back of the room; a long folding table topped with stacks of plastic cups and bottles of hard liquor. Seeing it brings back flashbacks of my mom and the vodka bottles that were always on our kitchen counter.

I direct my eyes away from the bar and back to Garret, who now has two guys standing next to him.

“Jade, this is Blake,” he says. “Blake, this is Jade.”

I shake hands with a tall, lanky guy with wavy blond hair and a dark tan. Wearing board shorts and a t-shirt, he seems to be going for the surfer look which is odd given that we’re in Connecticut.

“Blake’s a total ass but for some reason we still let him hang out with us,” Garret says.

The guy standing next to Blake speaks up. “That’s not always true. Sometimes when Blake’s really drunk we lock him in a room. He’s an angry drunk.”

An angry drunk. Just like my mom. I can’t be around angry drunks. I’m thinking less of Garret now that I know he’s friends with an angry drunk.

“I’m Decker by the way.” The guy extends his hand. He’s barely taller than me with short brown hair and black-rimmed glasses. He’s wearing baggy plaid Bermuda shorts, a bright green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and leather sandals.

“Decker may look smart with the glasses, but don’t let that fool you,” Garret says. “He practically flunked out of high school.”

Decker turns to me to explain. “They didn’t understand me there. Math and science aren’t my thing. I’m a writer. An artist of the written word. I was far too creative for that school.”

“So what’syourstory?” Blake asks me. I can already tell I don’t like this guy. He seems to have a permanent smirk on his face and his woodsy cologne is giving me a headache.

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