The Impact of You
Page 4

“My birthmom?” I was used to teaching people the correct terminology. He nods.
“Yeah. All the time, actually.”
“So why don’t you?”
I shrug. Lots of reasons. I’m not sure how much I should tell him, or how much he really wants to know, but Jase is leaning forward on his elbows, like he’s genuinely interested. I don’t typically talk about this stuff. But I trust him enough to let him in, which is odd given that I’ve only known him such a short time and everyone has warned me about him. “Now that I’m nineteen, I can go and get the records from my adoption without my dads needing to sign off …” I release a slow sigh. It’s something I’ve thought about doing so many times, yet some unknown force holds me back.
“It’s not a big deal. I’ll figure out what to do eventually,” I add, hoping to lighten the moment.
“Well, let me know if I can help,” he says softly.
“Why would you do that?”
He shrugs. “Why not?”
I’m genuinely baffled by his interest in helping me. I know I’m not the best company, only Jase doesn’t seem to mind. That’s probably because he doesn’t know much about me. I duck my head at this realization, drawing my chin to my chest. “You wouldn’t like me if you knew more about my past.”
He doesn’t press for details. He just remains quiet and reaches for my hand. “I doubt that could be true. And besides, I have waaay more baggage than you, so we’re good.”
Yes, but his reputation is out in the open. He isn’t hiding behind a curtain, waiting for some horrible big-reveal like I am. Jase is still watching me and his soft expression sends a warm tingling through my chest. I have no idea why it is that Jase Owens – reported manwhore – would have this effect on me. Yet I can’t deny that he does. Which is exactly why I’ll need to be extra careful around him.
* * *
I blink my eyes open to find Jase standing above me. “Avery, wake up. You fell asleep.” His hand on my shoulder gently rouses me. What? Noooo. I shoot up in the bed, stunned and bleary-eyed. I fell asleep? This is so not me. “I should go.” I leap up from the bed and grab my backpack, hefting it up over one shoulder. “Do you have class?”
Jase casually looks at his alarm clock. “My psych class started twenty minutes ago. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Oh. “Jase, don’t skip class for me.”
Jase steps closer, closing the distance between us. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, and my pulse spikes at the sudden closeness. “It’s okay.” He straightens the backpack straps, his hand lingering on my shoulders. “This was more fun.”
What is okay about any of this, I have no idea. His gaze lingers on mine. I should move away, but I won’t. “Can you afford to miss class?”
He lets out a short laugh. “I’m not dumb, Avery. I had a near perfect grade-point average last semester. And it’s only the second week of class. It’s fine.”
My surprised expression gives me away.
“What? Not what you expected?”
I turn and flee without another word, needing to use my body for something useful like descending the stairs so I don’t do something stupid like lift up on my toes and kiss him like I want to. Once we reach the front door, Jase grabs my backpack, halting my escape.
“Hey, stay out from behind dumpsters, okay?” He brushes the loose strands of hair back from my face, tucking them gently behind my ear.
“I’ll try.”
When I get back to the dorm, Madison shoots me a suspicious glare. “Where were you all afternoon?”
I casually set my backpack on my bed, my mind grasping at a possible explanation. Knowing I’m horrible at thinking on my feet, I break down and admit I was with Jase, making it sound like we casually ran into each other – which we did. And going home with Jase then was just a no-brainer.
When I spotted Marcy Capri earlier, I knew I needed to get out of there before a panic attack took over. She didn’t look dangerous, with her frizzy blond hair and faded black yoga pants, but she was. She held a link to my past. She knew the secret that I’ve worked hard to ensure didn’t follow me here, didn’t own me. And I know, given the chance, she’d open her fat mouth and blab. It’s too juicy a secret not to. I couldn’t have that, so I dove behind the nearest obstacle I could find – which happened to be a dumpster. I was shaking when Jase found me.
But Madison doesn’t need to know about my dumpster diving adventures. I also fail to mention the nap I’d taken in his bed. That would send her over the edge. No, that little detail will need to remain between him and me, as would the fact that his pillow smelled like a mix of fabric softener and cologne and I could have easily taken it home to enjoy nightly. That detail definitely doesn’t need to be shared with anyone. Not Madison and certainly not too-hot-for-his-own-good Jase.
Chapter 5
Jase
I crank up the radio and settle back as the flat highway stretches before me. Having already missed my afternoon class yesterday because of my soiree with Avery, I take off for home, driving three hours just to check on my mom. I never used to bother going home much my first two years away at college. But a suicide attempt changes things. I won’t be able to relax or focus on class until I see her with my own eyes.
When I arrive, my dad is immediately in my face, provoking a fight that nearly leads to blows. He treats her like shit, and I’ve had it with him. But I try to focus on the fact that she seems to be doing better.
It’s a quick trip – I take her out to lunch and we just talk. Sometimes I worry she doesn’t eat enough, especially when my dad is out of town, which is often. With no one there to cook for, I have a feeling she just doesn’t eat. It’s more than just taking her out to lunch, though; I need to check on her, to make sure she’s okay. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for not realizing how close she’d been to checking out. It makes me realize I can’t take her for granted.
Settling into the drive home, I should make it back in time for my human sexuality class, the class I’ve most been looking forward to this semester. Professor Gibbs’ infamous lectures have generated plenty of buzz on campus over the years. It should be an easy A, and of course features my favorite topic – sex.
One hand rests on the wheel while the other tugs restlessly through my hair. I can’t stop thinking about Avery. Spending time with her yesterday was…unexpected. Her being comfortable enough to fall asleep in my bed? Shocking. And sexy.
I remember her skittish reaction when Stacia said she looked familiar. She looked like she wanted to dive for cover under my bed. Between hiding behind dumpsters to being terrified of my none-too-bright ex, Avery is a mystery. She’s like a scared little wisp of a girl I want to coax out of her shell.
Even I’m not sure of my own motivations since I doubt she’ll ever be one of my conquests. Which I both like – and don’t. She’s definitely tempting, with soft curves that fill out her jeans, long unruly hair, and especially her wide green eyes and soft mouth. Shit. I’m going to give myself a hard-on if I’m not careful.
I pull into the campus parking lot just as my class is starting. I’m going to be late. Finding the lecture hall a few minutes later, I pause at the doors to look for an empty seat. Professor Gibbs is tall, bald-headed and is pacing the front of the room. The room is full and silent, aside from him. He pauses just briefly as his gaze meets mine, then he returns to lecturing – making a point about society and self-image. I zero in on an empty seat in the back of the room when movement catches my attention. A flash of auburn hair streaks through my vision and makes my heart gallop. Avery.
She sits several rows up and her cheeks blossom when she meets my eyes. I can’t help but smile at the sight of her. I maneuver between the rows of seats, and a few nasty looks later, I’m in the chair next to her.
“Hey Whistle.”
She rolls her eyes before facing the front once again, but the little curve of her mouth tells me she’s happy to see me. That little curve shouldn’t make me feel so good.
I lean closer to whisper near her ear. Traces of floral shampoo greet me. “What’d I miss?”
“I didn’t even know you were in this class. You weren’t here last week.”
I like that she noticed that. “I was gone last week – had to check on my mom,” I whisper back.
Her eyebrows draw together and then she turns to the front of the room again. I can’t help but notice she already has a full page of notes scrawled neatly across her notebook and is nervously bouncing a chewed, tattered pen in her hand. Abandoning my inspection of Avery for the moment, I tune in to our lecture. Gibbs is a lively speaker, and it’s easy to lose yourself in his words. I pull out the syllabus I printed from online and follow along the second week’s lesson: You – A Sexual Case Study. Oh yeah, this class is going to be awesome. And Avery’s faint blush during the lecture makes it hard to focus.
Professor Gibbs’ pacing leads him to the side of the room where Avery and I are seated. He pauses in front of us, pondering his next thought. “I’ve structured this class to allow you to explore your sexuality after finding that many of my students received abstinence-only education in high school.” A few people in the room look at each other, wondering where he’s going with this lesson, when he continues. “Abstinence is often not the reality in college, or in high school for that matter. To remedy that, we’ll explore gender roles in society like it says on my syllabus, but we won’t just pontificate about these topics as obscure things unconnected to who we are. You’ll explore your own sexuality through a weekly journaling assignment.”
He passes out stacks of small black notebooks to everyone seated in the front row. The notebooks begin making their way around the room as everyone takes one.
“These are your journals. And to get you started, I’ll provide the topic for your first journaling assignment. Turn to the person next to you. Doesn’t matter if it’s a member of the same or opposite sex.”
I turn to face Avery. Her cheeks were rosy before, but now she’s blushing like crazy and he hasn’t even given us the assignment. It’s so damn cute.
“Open your journal. I want you to check out the person across from you.” A few soft laughs erupt in the room. “No talking,” Professor Gibbs reminds us.
I remain silent, slouched in my seat, and take in Avery’s stiff posture. If this is a study on the other person’s comfort level on sex, Avery will win for most uncomfortable. She looks like she’s about to flee the room. Why did she even sign up for this class? It’s a voluntary elective.
Professor Gibbs explains the journaling assignment. He’s looking to make a statement on positive self-image, self-love. Getting young women to see themselves more clearly, accepting, boosting self-confidence, both inside the bedroom and out; and getting young men to take note of more than what’s underneath their clothes. My eyes flick to Avery’s. She’s tuned in to his every word. Even I have to admit, it’s an interesting assignment.
The topic of our first journaling exercise is what we find appealing, beautiful about the opposite sex. A few snide comments and laughs circulate the room, until Professor Gibbs redirects us to think about the uncommon body parts, like hands and eyes. Then pushes us to go one step farther. He approaches me and Avery again, stopping in front of our desks. When he asks us each our names, Avery’s blush deepens again. He’s going to use us as an example in front of the class. I don’t care; I just don’t want him to embarrass her.
Professor Gibbs turns to Avery. “You’ll partner up and take note of each other’s characteristics. For example, Jase’s hands…” He encourages me to lift them for the class to see. I hold them out in front of me awkwardly. “He would make a good provider with those strong hands.”
Avery’s pretty green eyes follow my movements and remain on my hands even after I’ve lowered them to the desk.
Professor Gibbs returns to the front, leaving Avery and me alone. I don’t care that we are in a room full of people. She’s fucking turning me on.
Being able to check out Avery for the sake of schoolwork is an amazing thing. She bites her lip and begins jotting something down in her journal. I wish I knew what the hell she was writing. Is it the thing Professor said about my hands? Somehow I doubt it is. Her gaze rakes over my jaw, down my chest, to my biceps, and it’s driving me insane. Each look is like a caress. It hits me like a jolt. I can practically feel her undressing me with her eyes. Shit. Who is this girl? She’s innocent and sexy all at once, and I know I’m in trouble. My heart is pumping fast, and I feel myself getting hard.
I flip open my own journal, needing the distraction. There are so many things I could write about Avery, but staring down at the blank page, I’m unsure where to begin. I’ve never kept a journal, but I have a feeling writing about her will be easy.
I take a deep breath and try to focus on the non-traditional body parts like Professor Gibbs reminded us. That way I’m not the perv staring at her tits. Which are exceptionally nice, I quickly note. Her head is still tipped down, so hopefully she didn’t notice my indiscretion. Damn, she’s writing a freaking novel. Is there really that much to say?
I swallow and focus on my notebook, finally writing, Her soft skin – it makes me want to protect her. I close the book before she has the chance to see what I wrote. God, I sound like a pussy.
I lean closer to Avery, and she slams her journal closed. But not before I see that she’s written an entire page about me. Wow. “Had a lot to say, huh?” I whisper, offering a weak smile. She makes me feel so unsure and alive all at the same time.