Love You Better (Better Love 1)

When Jesse texted me the picture of the douche-canoe she went home with an hour ago, he said she was likely heading to a fraternity on South Campus. When I check the app, though, her icon is moving three blocks away from South Campus frat row. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I immediately start to worry. This is exactly why we have the app. It’s one in the morning. What the fuck is she doing walking in that area at night? Is she with him? Is she okay? Just as I’m about to call her, a text comes through.

Ivy Bean: You awake?

I heave a sigh of relief and dial her number. She picks up immediately.

“Hey, did I wake you?” Her voice is strong, and aside from sounding irritated, I’m sure she’s safe.

“No, I was up. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Except it’s a two-hour wait for an Uber and I don’t really want to walk through that creepy Campus Grove.”

Campus Grove is a four-acre stretch of trees and trails and randomly placed picnic pavilions. It’s great during the day, but it’s definitely not safe to walk through at night. A year ago, the campus put safety lights and call boxes along all the trails, but it’s still not somewhere you want to find yourself at one in the morning alone, if you can help it. It’s fucking creepy.

“Yeah, no, don’t do that. Sit tight, I’ll come get you.”

“Thank you, Kelley. I owe you big.”

“Nah, it’s fine. See you soon.”

“Love you!”

“Love you back.”

I hang up, pull on some sweats and a t-shirt, and head out to play the gallant knight in a silver Jeep Wrangler.

Fifteen minutes later, Ivy climbs into the passenger seat of my Wrangler, and I’m immediately assaulted with the nauseating and overpowering smell of men’s body spray. As if I needed one, it serves as a reminder of her activities for the evening.

“Thanks for this, Kell. Seriously, I owe you.” She heaves a sigh and settles back into her seat as I pull a U-turn.

“What cut your night short? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “The guy just ended up being a bigger jerk than I wanted to deal with.”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel.

“What happened? Did he try something? Did he hurt you?” I shoot off a rapid fire of questions, my fury obvious with every word. I will fuck him up.

“No, nothing like that,” Ivy says quickly, placing a calming hand on my forearm. “He just didn’t want to wear a condom.”

I stiffen at the mention of Ivy and condoms and other men, but she’s staring out the front window and doesn’t notice.

“I’m not trying to catch something for twenty minutes of what was sure to be lackluster sex and the hope of a possible orgasm,” she states. “Gosh, I’m exhausted.”

“What time do you have to be in tomorrow?” I ask, happy for the change of topic.

“Nine. At least now I’ll get to sleep in my own sheets.”

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” I whisper. There’s more melancholy in my voice than intended. It’s one thing to hear about Ivy’s Friday nights in abstract from Jesse; it’s something else entirely to be this close to the actual event, and I don’t know how to process it.

The rest of the drive to her apartment is silent.

When I pull my Jeep up to the curb, Ivy unbuckles her seat belt and grabs her small purse thing off the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, yeah?” she says as she reaches for the door handle. “And don’t forget, you promised to teach me how to drive stick on Sunday night.”

I can’t help but return her smile.

“You know, there’s a joke there...”