Nothing But Wild (Malibu University 2)

“Yes,” he says, unequivocally and without hesitation.

“Then why c-can’t you believe that a-about me?”

He stares at me for a beat. His electric blue eyes glowing in the reflected light of the street lamps at the edge of the parking lot. In three long steps, he’s on me, his face buried in the side of my neck, arms around my upper body holding me so tightly my lungs may never function normally again.

“Don’t break up with me,” he says, the sound muffled by my hair. “I know I’m no prize, but maybe you could keep me anyway?” I nod against his shoulder as unchecked tears funnel down my cheeks and soak his shirt. “If you do, I promise to love you forever.”

And that’s the problem. His experiences have taught him that love is something to be bargained for. That he has to give in order to receive. Whereas my childhood showed me that real love is unconditional. It’s given freely with no expectation of reciprocation.

My parents taught me that the heart is a complicated organ. That in its imperfect beauty it is impetuous and blind, impractical and relentlessly forgiving. It wants who it wants without thought to race and class and gender. And it keeps wanting regardless of how many times it’s been mistreated.

I don’t question mine. I don’t fear it. I go willingly. I let mine lead me where it wants to go, and it keeps leading me right back to him.

“All I w-want is your heart,” I tell him through tears, “and y-your time. Because I would miss you too much if I didn’t have some.” Pulling up his shirt, I sneak my hand under the hem and palm the hot skin of his back. “And distance isn’t going to c-change that.”

“I’ve thought about this…” Picking his head up, he pushes at my shoulders and faces me. “If I catch a flight to LaGuardia on Friday nights––”

“I’m n-not going to C-Cornell,” I announce, anxious to put his concerns to bed.

His head jerks back a little. He searches my face for the truth and finds it. “You’re not?” he tentatively queries, not sure he can trust his ears yet.

“I’m going to C-Cal Davis. I mean, I haven’t applied yet, but with my t-test scores and grades…”

I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for me. I’m proud of my accomplishments. I don’t regret them. But I also don’t want to regret not giving us a real chance.

“You’re staying in California?”

University of California Davis is the top ranked veterinary school in the country so it isn’t exactly a tough choice. Privately, I think my parents breathed a sigh of financial relief when I told them yesterday.

“I h-have a boyfriend and––”

I don’t get to finish that sentence and it has nothing to do with my speech impediment. Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me like his life depends on it.

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” he whispers against my lips as we stand in the empty parking lot clinging to each other. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” More feverish kissing. “Anything you want is yours to have.”

My grip around his waist tightens. “Anything?”

Glancing up, I discover the cocky smirk is back on his face so I know he’s going to be okay…that we’re going to be okay.

“Anything.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Dora

From my seat in the audience next to Blake, I watch Zoe give Alice the universal gesture for hand job. This is tame by her standards.

“I don’t read sign language,” Alice replies. A few attending visitors level admonishing glances their way.

This year went super fast. One more and it’ll be us up on that stage accepting our diplomas, thanking our loved ones, and moving on to bigger and better stuff.

“How about this? You read this?” This time Zoe flips Alice the bird and she laughs.

“What time does the party start?” Alice asks nobody in particular.

“Nine at Shutters on the Beach––” Blake answers.

Two girls seated directly in front turn around and shush Zoe who makes a face. “We got a block of rooms so no one has to drive,” she explains.

The two girls in front take it to the next level, graduating from shushing to giving us dirty looks.

“Mind your own business,” Zoe warns them, “or I’ll rip off those caterpillars glued to your eyes.” Horrified, the girls swivel around to face ahead.

Dallas’s entire family is in attendance, most of whom I’ve already met. His mother, Brenda, is dressed to the nines. His grandfather turned out to be a happy surprise. I know Dallas hates the comparison, but I see a lot of his grandfather in him. Even Dallas’s father showed up. I’ve never met him and frankly from afar, he looks about as friendly as an ice sculpture.

It’s never going to be what he would like it to be––not many people have that kind of relationship with their family––but it’s improving steadily.