Free College Girl by Shelia Grace Page A

might have kissed.”
    “Whore!” she squawked.
    “You think I should sew a scarlet
“W” onto my clothes?”
    “Totally! You’d be the first
virgin whore. You could start a trend.”
    “Great.”
    “Hold up. I thought you said you
weren’t going to see him again,” Julie said accusingly.
    “Julie, I tried to avoid him. I
really tried. I even left class early, and he fucking jumped out at me before I
could get out of 1500.”
    “Hot guy stalking you. What a
fucking problem!”
    “He’s not a hot guy! He’s my
fucking math TA! Before last week I hadn’t even kissed a guy. Then I have this insanely
random hookup with some guy ten years older than me? Come on. It’s not like
we’re going to start going out.”
    “Well, you could fuck him.”
    “Jules!”
    “ What ? It was just a suggestion. If Chris walked into my dorm room
and said, ‘ Let’s fuck ,’ I’d seriously
consider it.”
    “ Shh !” I whispered, laughing.
    Chris’s room was directly across
the hall from mine, and Julie had a serious thing for him. He was one of the
nicer guys on our floor. Meaning he smiled when I passed him in the hall, he
didn’t make asinine comments, and he didn’t play his music all day and all
night at an eardrum-bursting decibel. He was cute, too, but not hot in a Ryan
Bennett sort of way. At least not to me.
    “Oh, right. Alex Reed is waiting
for true love. Good luck with that.”
    I picked up my pillow and tried to
smack her with it.
    “I’m just sayin’ … Hot guys don’t
grow on trees,” Julie pointed out. “You wanna grab breakfast tomorrow?”
    I nodded as she jumped off the
bed.
    “So, what are you going to do when
you see him in class?”
    I shrugged.
    “No fucking clue.”
    She laughed and walked out. Shit.
What the hell was I going to do?

Chapter 8

 
 
    Ryan

 
    I met Becca halfway between campus
and the winery. My sister had been the first to break with the family tradition
by going to design school. However, she owned her own shop, which just happened
to be on the grounds of the Bennett Family Cellars. Her acquiescence to my
mother was how she got out of being the black sheep—a title reserved for
me, despite my master’s in viticulture and enology.
    I walked into the coffee shop and
ordered a black coffee for myself and an Americano for
Becca. When she walked in a few minutes later, it was jarring to see my big
sis, the Amazonian goddess. Six-feet-tall in her socks, she had played
volleyball during undergrad in Southern California. She smirked, her blue eyes
crinkling.
    “Baby brother, why the hell do you
need a dress for a little person?”
    “It’s a long, fucked up story. But
the parents will be happy that I’m attending the family function next week, so
…” I said.
    “So you are gracing us with your presence, then.”
    I pulled out her chair for her.
    “Don’t turn into Mom, Bec.”
    “But I do Mom so well! Are you bringing Gretchen, Dear? ”
    “Low blow, Sis.”
    “Oh, take it easy. I never liked
her anyway.”
    “ Now you tell me.”
    “What? You knew it. That girl
wanted a fucking fairy tale; she didn’t want you.”
    “Damn. You really know how to
damage a man.”
    “Yes, I do,” she smiled.
    I stood up and retrieved our
drinks. When I got back to the table, she patted the garment bag and shoebox
sitting on the chair next to her.
    “Size seven shoes, right?”
    I nodded.
    “Please tell me you did better
this time with the new girl,” she said dryly.
    “Or worse depending on how you
look at it.”
    “Well, if she’s not a drug addict,
it will be an improvement.”
    I studied my sister for a long
moment.
    “How long did you know about
Gretchen?”
    “Long enough. I was waiting for
you to come to grips with it.”
    “Good to know.”
    “And this new one?”
    I shrugged.
    “I don’t have anything to prove to
the parents.”
    “So Mom’s going to shit a brick
when you show up next Saturday? Let me guess. She’s got piercings?