Falling For Dad's College Rival

Most everyone else here I probably could recognize at fifty paces, even after twenty years.

“Oh now, Trent. Don’t be playing shy with me,” The woman drawls, showing no sign of letting go of me.

“It’s me. Ellen?” she says matter of fact, looking hurt when it registers that I still have no idea who she is.

“I had a little work done,” she blushes, rolling her eyes and letting one hand off me just long enough to squeeze half her own chest.

I furrow my brows, shaking my head in the negative. I move my eyes back to the crowded room, eager to find Brooke but at the same time wanting to get free of this harpy from the past.

“I really don’t remember you,” I tell her firmly, and using just enough friendly pressure, I free her hands from my sleeve, telling her I really have to go.

She whines and hisses something about all men being assholes when I catch a glimpse of Brooke.

I can see Mike her dad too, looking suddenly cozy with someone.

Pity, I would have liked to have introduced him to Ellen here, whoever the hell she is.

But something tells me it’s too late.

Too late for me to hook Mike up with someone as a distraction, and too late for me to talk some more with Brooke.

I’m no dummy, and I know an upset girl when I see one. All Ellen types aside.

Brooke’s turned suddenly to leave, and I try to get her attention before she’s gone, but I have the sinking feeling she saw this woman hanging off me and got the wrong idea.

Dammit.

I’m not interested in some Barbie doll look-alike, and I don’t give a damn if I make a scene anymore.

The thought of Brooke leaving, walking out of my life before she’s even in it is too much to even think about.

Yanking myself free from her, I almost knock a few other people over in the process to get free from this Ellen creature.

I shove my way through the crowd, figuring there’s only one other way out that Brooke could have gone, and by the time I get clear of the room I can see her outside.

I call out to her, but a huge crash of thunder drowns out my voice.

Feeling another hand on my arm my reflex is to raise a hand of my own to it, but it’s Dean Chambers again.

“Oh, what is it now?” I snarl, looking back outside, ready to call for Brooke again, but only seeing rain starting to fall.

“I just wondered if you might want to say a few words before dinner,” The Dean suggests, looking suddenly soured by my attitude.

“Hang your dinner, Dean,” I rasp, looking back just long enough to tell him. To tell myself out loud.

“If she goes now, I might never get another chance!” I call out, taking off into the night. The icy cold sting of hard rain doing nothing to dampen my drive, but only making it harder to see and slippery to navigate the cobblestone pavement.

“Brooke!” I shout aloud, over and again. And in every direction, I can think of. I run a circuit of what feels like the whole college until my legs burn and my side aches.

I’m panting for breath. Panting for her.

My hands on my knees as I double over, more crestfallen than exhausted.

It takes a while, and I’m soaked through, but I finally realize she’s gone.

The rain feels hot now, my skin burning up under it. And once it feels like I’ve run around for nothing except to get soaked, it stops.

A thin haze of mist rises from the old college streets as I make my way back to the hall.

My car’s there, I guess I’ll head home.

But passing by the hall, I hear the Dean calling out after me yet again.

I groan loudly, trying to tell myself not to give the guy a knuckle sandwich for his troubles.

Hearing him clopping after me, I spin on my heel, ready to tell him I’ve had enough for one night, when it occurs to me he might be able to help.

“The girl,” I tell him quickly, cutting him off before he can even speak. “Mike Wheatley’s daughter,” I add, seeing a vague look of recognition in the Dean’s eyes.

He can see I’m in no mood to fuck around and nods slowly but firmly.

“It’s very important I speak with her, tonight,” I explain rapidly. “Now, can you tell me if she still lives with her dad and if so, I’ll need their address,” I add firmly.

Chambers nods to himself and then half chuckles.

“Trent? I apologize,” he says, lowering his voice and ushering us both over to a more private area, away from the other guests but also from the heavy drips falling from the ancient trees around us.

“I thought I’d done something to annoy you, or maybe you were through helping me. But now I think I understand,” he adds with a smile, tapping the side of his large nose as he gives me a wink.