The Junior (College Years 3)

Fleeing the store, I pace around in front of it, thrusting my hands in my hair, my gaze snagging on Gracie as she goes to the counter and makes her purchase. She’s chatting up Skylee as if they’re old friends, which irritates me. Everything about Gracie aggravates me right now.

But intrigues me, too. I can’t lie. She’s a mystery. She keeps herself locked up tight, only revealing bits of information here and there. Little clues that leave me hanging, wanting to know more.

Me? I’m an open book. What you see is what you get. I’d even go so far as to call myself a simple man.

She’s not simple at all. Gracie is complex. Prickly—only when it comes to me, though. Warm and friendly with everyone else. But she keeps it all on the surface, never going too deep. The only people she’s real with are Hayden and the rest of the girls, though I don’t hang around them long enough to know what she’s really like with them.

Here’s the weirdest part of all: I fell into a friendship with her and didn’t even mean to. My mom wasn’t lying when she said I don’t make friends with women.

I don’t.

Yeah, I’m friendly with my friends’ girlfriends, but it’s not like I hang out with Ava and Ellie. The only one who seems to accept me for what I am is Jocelyn. But she’s too busy chasing after her cute daughter to give me much time anymore, and I understand. Being a mom is serious business.

I’m not serious about…anything. Not yet anyway. Dad encouraged me when I was younger to sow my wild oats, whatever the fuck that meant. It was the analogy he kept giving me every time we had a talk about relationships and sex, and when I was fifteen, I finally had to Google that shit to understand exactly what he was talking about.

I could only laugh when I read the definition. My dad got me. And when I went to him about it, he said he did much of the same thing when he was in high school. Sowing all those wild oats.

“I met your mom right out of high school,” he admitted to me. “She was working on the lake, just like me. A year older. So much wiser than me, I thought, and turns out, I was right. Your mom is a smart woman. I don’t know what she saw in a guy like me, but there we were, madly in love and married by twenty-one, your mom was twenty-two.”

My dad telling that to sixteen-year-old me made it sound like an impending death sentence. No way did I want to get serious about anyone. I didn’t need or want that.

“I don’t regret marrying your mom so young, but if I could give you one bit of advice, I’d tell you to take your time. Enjoy your youth and the opportunities it gives you. You don’t need to settle down with anyone. Go out and live your life. Enjoy it. You’ll be a responsible adult for a lot longer than you’ll be a student. Take advantage of those years.”

I took his words to heart. I’ve been living it up ever since.

Until recently. No fucking around for me. I just follow after Gracie like a whipped puppy dog, eager for her attention. Desperate for any little scrap she shares with me.

“Hey.” I turn to find Gracie standing there, a giant shopping bag hanging from her arm. “Ready to go?”

I nod and take the bag from her, because I’m a gentleman, damn it. And I’m going to help a lady instead of making her carry it herself.

She hands it over without protest and off we go, back in the direction we came.

“I got a lot for what I spent, but I’m done. I need to save as much as I can,” she says.

“You ready to go then?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah.” Then pauses before she keeps going. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And thank you for the store suggestion. It turned out to be the perfect place for me to shop.” A smile barely touches the corners of her lips. “You surprise me, Caleb.”

“How?”

“I didn’t expect you to know where to shop for women’s clothes,” she says as we enter the department store we parked by.

“I’m an expert at taking them off so…” I shrug.

She comes to a stop in the middle of the aisle. “Why do you always have to take it somewhere sexual when we’re talking?”

“That’s where my thoughts always go, I guess,” I say, feeling defensive.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.” She starts walking and I follow. “My middle name is Richard, remember? Guess I can’t stop thinking with my dick.”

She whirls on me right in front of the doors leading to the parking lot. “You’re more than that. I don’t believe you just think with your penis and that’s how you live life. Roaming the land, looking for your next conquest. You’ve got depth, Caleb. You’re smart and thoughtful and sweet.”