Tutoring the Player (Campus Wallflowers #1)(77)

“Damn.”

“Yeah. There’s no walking back from that. I’ve apologized a million times. She hates me. Almost as much as I hate myself for it.”

I finish hanging the last strand, and Gavin jumps down from the tree house.

“Where are we going to plug in the extension cord?” he asks, holding it up.

I motion toward his house.

“I should have known,” he says dryly. He hops back over the fence, dragging the cord with him.

“Here we go,” he says. “One, two, lights.”





34





DAISY





I was nervous about asking Violet to help throw a party when we were just coming off the failed Wallflower Ball that she put her heart and soul into, but she was completely on board.

It isn’t like we’ve never had people over before, but I want to invite everyone—a real blow out party like the ones I watched from the tree house. I’m through wishing and waiting for my life to happen.

Over the next week, we transform our house together. Maybe other people can just invite people over and call it good, but not us. The four of us spend all our time working on it, from what alcohol to buy, to the playlist, and if we should clear out the living room for dancing. It feels good to have a hand in the creation of it instead of letting Violet do it all on her own. It feels more like something that belongs to all of us.

Tonight we’re hanging lights from the living room ceiling like a canopy. We got the idea from Jordan and the lights he strung in the tree house.

I haven’t had the heart to go up inside of it yet, but last night it looked beautiful from the window all lit up.

“Are we going to wear our dresses again?” Dahlia asks as she stands on a ladder waiting for me to hand her another strand of lights.

“No dress code,” Violet says. “Come as you are.”

“I’m wearing my dress,” Jane says. “I got three numbers that night.”

“What about the green one?” I ask.

She thinks for a minute. “Maybe I’ll do a wardrobe change halfway through.”

Vi smiles. “I’m wearing my dress, too, but I don’t want people to feel like they need to dress up.”

“Thank god,” Dahlia says, and we all laugh.

“What did Jordan send today?” Jane asks as we finish and sit in the living room to admire our work.

“Nothing,” Violet answers for me.

“Nothing?” Dahlia asks, a stunned expression on her face.

I’m a little surprised, too, but trying not to show it. Ever since I ran into him at University Hall, the gifts have come daily. Monday was a drawing with daisies, Tuesday was the tree lights, and last night a playlist he made just for me.

I’ve started to look forward to them. Not the gifts so much as knowing I’ll have some interaction with him, even if it isn’t directly. As much as I’d like to hold on to the anger and betrayal I felt when I realized he deceived me, I can’t deny how good it feels to hear from him every day. I’ve missed him.

I can’t decide if that means I should forgive him and let him back into my life or if this sudden resurgence of apology gestures are just to assuage his guilt for breaking my heart. I’m sure he could see it all over my face Monday—the heartbreak that lingers since I walked out of his dorm.

Honking outside tears me from my thoughts. It’s continuous and impossible to ignore.

Violet groans. “What the hell are they up to now?”

She moves to look out the curtains toward The White House.

The honking continues, as well as music blaring.

“Uh, Daisy.” She jogs to the front door and pulls it open.

The music and honking get louder. Dahlia and Jane rush to join her. I’m slower to my feet.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Jane punches each word and smiles as she looks back at me. “If you don’t forgive him, you’re crazy.”

I finally get to the doorway, where I can see the parade of vehicles slowly rolling down our street. Their windows are down, and they drop daisies onto the sidewalk in front of the house. The music is coming from the back of the line, which I can’t quite see, but the Shawn Mendes song gets louder with every passing vehicle.

“Is that the entire hockey team?” Jane asks.

I can only nod. Jordan’s vehicle isn’t among them, but I can see the last truck now—Liam’s. I walk outside to the curb as he gets in front of the house. But it isn’t Jordan in the passenger seat. It’s some guy I don’t recognize holding a handful of daisies.

Liam stops and turns down the music. The passenger hands me the flowers.

“You must be Daisy,” he says.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“He isn’t here,” Liam says, and pulls a folded piece of paper from the dash. “He asked me to give you this.”

I take it, and he rolls forward slowly.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I think you two are great together. Maybe not what either of you expected, but that’s how it goes sometimes.” He gives the guy in the passenger seat the briefest of glances and then nods to me. “Just thought you should know.”

“Thanks, Liam.” I step back, holding the paper in front of me.