Page 21 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
Alder University was a small, private campus, but a prestigious one. Tucked between the heart of San Diego and Imperial Beach and stocked with a plethora of options for undecided undergrads, it was the perfect college for me. I smiled again, hiking the same Jansport I’d used all through high school up higher on my back just as the perky blonde snapped her fingers.
“Ah! Found it!” She plucked the folder out, checking its contents before looking back up to me. “Brecks, right?”
My smile immediately fell with her question, along with my mood. I somehow forced a tight smile, but before I could even nod, another voice boomed my answer from behind me.
“It’s B,” he said. His voice was smooth, oak infused and deeper than I remembered. I turned, words stuck in my throat, eyes wide as I drank him in. Every single inch of him, from his worn sneakers and basketball shorts to the soaked Alder t-shirt he wore, sticking to the defined ridges of his abdomen. My eyes trailed up over the faint stubble on his neck and jaw before they found honey whiskey pools. He slid up beside me then, crooked smile in place as he held my stare. “Just B.”
Time stopped in that moment, and I couldn’t keep my eyes from tracing his features — his new, shorter hair, his biceps that had filled out considerably since the last time I’d seen them propping him up on the beach in Florida, the few inches he’d grown. His aura was different, cockier, more sure. I wish I could tell you I’d been smoother than the first time I’d met him on that running trail, but the truth was I couldn’t have been more obvious in my eye-assault, and he noticed, because when my eyes found his face again, he just cocked one brow and widened his grin.
“You cut your hair,” I finally breathed, my body rejoining the world in a whoosh. It was like all the sounds of students and the birds in the California trees found me all at once, attacking my senses along with the brightness of the sun through my cheap sunglasses.
Jamie chuckled, lifting his hand to just barely touch my face. “And you got a nose ring.”
I smiled, still staring at him, still not listening to the blonde behind the table who was trying to give me important information about my new dorm room. Luckily, Jamie was listening, and he reached over to take the envelope and keys from her. He winked, at her, not at me, and that’s when I finally looked at her again.
“Good to see you, Jamie. How have you been?” she asked, too eagerly, and I eyed her up and down slowly. Big blonde hair, 80’s-style curls, with bright blue eyes and skin tan enough to make me think it might be fake. She wasn’t as pretty as Jenna, but she had similar features, which made me turn to Jamie to study his reaction with her.
“Oh you know, same old same. I think I got this,” he said, holding up the envelope in his hands. “Take care, Melanie.”
Melanie all but swooned as we walked away from the table, and I fought hard not to roll my eyes. “I take it you two know each other?” I asked, nodding back to where she was still staring at him.
He shrugged. “You could say that.”
And the urge won over.
I let my eyes roll, and Jamie laughed, hard and solid, the sound booming. Then, he stopped, eyed me, and opened his arms wide. “Come here.”
“Ew,” I said quickly, shaking my head and walking forward. “You’re sweatier than two rats fucking in a gym sock.”
“Oh come on,” he teased from behind me. “It’s just a little perspiration.” And then, I was off my feet and in the air, back pressed against the damp fabric covering his chest as he spun me around. I squealed, laughing and flailing until he put me down.
“Why are you so sweaty? And why are you here?”
“I just finished playing basketball out at the courts. And I go to school here. Which, I guess that makes two of us now,” he added, holding up the envelope from Campus Housing. I snatched it from his grip and flipped through the contents, holding out my hand for him to drop my keys into as my mind raced.
“I didn’t know you went here.”
“Sure,” he said. “It’s okay that you’re stalking me, B. Maybe I kind of like it.”
“You wish,” I replied, nose still in the papers. “Seriously though, you were supposed to be at UC. What happened?” My fingers filtered through the folder as I waited for him to respond. There was information about my Resident Assistant and various activities planned for the semester as well as safety protocols. I was one of the few freshmen lucky enough to land a dorm room where I had my own room, but shared a kitchen and bathroom space with three other girls. I’d met one of them at orientation earlier that summer, but the others I’d only looked up on social media, so I was anxious to meet them.
