Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University Series)(34)

He nods, looking pensive and a little forlorn. My heart knots, a painful reminder that things are rarely what they seem. That even the ones we assume are living the life we covet, without a care in the world, are dealing with their own little shopping cart full of issues.

I’m ashamed to say I’m one of those people falsely assuming his life was perfect because he’s beautiful and privileged. Because his parents are still together. Knowing what I know now I wouldn’t trade places with him for anything.

“You’re close, huh?”

“She raised me.” A smile stretches my face every time I recall the story of how they met. “When I was seven I got the flu. It was really bad––my temperature was close to 104. Dad took me to the ER and Nancy was the emergency room nurse that night. She took care of me.”

Reagan’s attention shifts between me and the road. “After I was sent home, once the fever broke, Nancy showed up at the house and unleashed hell on my father, shouting about how irresponsible it was for him to wait till my fever was out of control to seek help. He said he fell in love with her that second. Two years later they were married.”

A strong gust of hot air invades the car and Reagan’s hair gets ruffled. It’s been like this the last few weeks. Crazy hot winds picking up now and then. Mine is literally standing on end. I’m forced to hold it down with both hands.

“The Santa Anas,” he says as if reading my mind. I look over and find him smiling at me. “The hot wind.” He swirls his index finger.

I let go of my hair, close my eyes, and let it have its way with me. It stands instantly upright, like I stuck my finger in a socket. I’m sure I look like an idiot but it makes me laugh, a burst of pure joy emanating from my chest that can’t be contained any more than the wind can.

“Nice hair,” he mocks with a teasing smile.

“Thanks, Flipper.”

“I thought we established that it’s not a dolphin.”

“You’re not going to like me saying this, but you’re more dolphin than shark,” I happily point out. He’s always perky and upbeat, likes to socialize, loves all the attention. He’s a dolphin––whether he likes it or not.

He levels narrowed green vengeance on me, offset by a sly smile. “I’m the top of the food chain, babe. I’m all shark.”

“That’s adorable. Especially coming from someone that wears a swim cap like my nana used to wear. Except yours has those darling cinnamon buns over the ears. Like Princess Leia.”

He fights his amusement. “Those cinnamon buns are meant to protect my ears from all the rough, manly activity. And I’m tellin’ on you. I’m tellin’ all the guys you said that.”

The Jeep comes to an abrupt stop. Only then do I realize we’re parked in front of the apartment building where my study group is being held. Scanning the parking lot, I see people I recognize from class pouring out of a car.

My attention returns to Reagan and I find him watching me. His smile melts. His expression grows serious like he rarely ever is. I rake my hair down and get my fingers snagged on a few knots. Unfortunately I’m not the comb-carrying type.

Mental note: purchase comb. Crazy winds are afoot.

“Thank you for driving me.” I look for some sign of what’s going on in his mind and finding the door shut.

“What time should I pick you up?” He reaches out and I lean away, staring at his hand. “Chill, Bailey. You have a piece sticking up.”

“Oh…okay.” He’s trying to be helpful and I treat him like he’s a festering case of the bubonic plague. How embarrassing.

I lean in and he sets about gently brushing down each and every one of my stray hairs, so gently I can barely feel him picking apart the knots. I can feel his breath on my skin. Fresh from a shower, I can smell his shampoo. My scalp tingles and goose bumps break out on my forearms. Lord give me strength.

“Don’t worry about it. I can catch a ride home.”

Finished, he leans back. Simon walks past the Jeep then, squinting into the headlights that are aimed right at him before he enters the building. I glance over and find Reagan staring after him, expression flinty.

A little odd but I cast it aside until he says, “From that guy?” He tips his head at the closed door behind which Simon disappeared, his voice sharp.

“Who, Simon?” I say, thoroughly confused as to why he looks pissed all of a sudden. Between the question and the expression he’s wearing, we’ve passed the little odd threshold and are well into a lot odd territory.

“Is that his name? Skinny-pants guy? He looks like he uses rock crystal deodorant and writes lyrics in his spare time just to impress chicks.”

Uhh…

My brows jack up to my hairline. This conversation has gone way off course, like…made a sharp left into funky town.

“Okay…oookay…” I don’t know what else to say. I’m a little taken aback. I open the door, get out, get my crutch situated. “Thanks for the ride, Reagan. I mean it, really.”





Reagan


Am I going anywhere? Hell no. And the shady dude is not driving Alice home. Luckily for me, I have my advanced chem textbook with me, my iPad, and notes. I spend the next hour and a half holed up in the quiet comfort of my car, studying for an upcoming exam and get more done than if I were doing it at home.