Fate Book Page 10

  What the hell kind of answer was that? “Yes. Why?”

  “Be ready.”

  The call dropped and my blood pressure dropped right with it. I immediately dialed my father again, but it went to voicemail as expected. I hesitated for a moment, tempted to leave a scathing message, but hung up and dialed my mother again instead. The call also went straight to voicemail. “Mom. It’s me. We need to talk. Santiago is back. He’s saying I should ‘be ready’ for Dad’s visit. Do you know what’s going on?” I sighed loudly. “Call me, okay?”

  I headed toward the bookstore, fuming. I was not going to let this happen. This was my life. Whatever weirdness was going on, whatever that “be ready” crap meant, I was not going to curl into a little ball and cower.

  “You are not ruining my day!” I barked to an imaginary Santiago. Or maybe not. Maybe he could hear me.

  I threw my coffee in the trash, got out my class syllabi, and marched into the crowded store.

  It took me twenty minutes to cool off and find my way around, and another forty to find my books. Distracted and mumbling angrily under my breath, I went to the back of the line, which snaked around the entire edge of the store, and plunked my basket onto the floor. He’s not getting away with this. I don’t care if that bastard owns my dreams; he can’t have the daytime, too.

  “I’m taking that class, too.”

  I looked up and saw a tall, blond guy wearing shorts and a T-shirt, staring down at my chemistry book. He had a boyish smile and blue eyes. Pretty cute, actually.

  I suddenly felt completely embarrassed. Had he heard me spouting off to myself?

  I cleared my throat. “Professor Robins? Tuesday and Thursday at 2:00 p.m?” I said.

  “Yep. Me, too,” he said happily. “I hear she’s tough, especially on her undergrads—feels it’s her mission to toughen everyone up for upper-division courses.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t heard that. But I know there’s a chemistry club. I’m thinking of joining,” I said.

  He raised his brows. Had I sounded too geeky? This was college. Wasn’t being academic cool now?

  “Well, if I have time for it,” I added. “So much fun stuff going on around here. Beach, parties, yunno.” Why did I said that? Woman up, Dakota. “But I’m signing up for chem club right after this.”

  His smile returned. “Cool. Well, if you want a study partner, let me know. I’m Greg, by the way.” He held out his hand.

  “Dakota Dane.” I shook his hand and watched the color drain from his face. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh. Shit. Yunno, I forgot my wallet in the dorm. Guess I’ll have to come back later.” He set his pile of books on a shelf.

  “I can hold your place,” I said. “I’m sure it’ll be an hour before we get to the register.”

  “Uh. No. No, thanks. I don’t mind coming back later. It’s no big deal.”

  “Okay. See you in class?” I said, but he was already halfway out the door.

  I sighed. “Blacklisted.” This wasn’t happening.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next day, I went to a freshman safety orientation, met Bridget’s sorority sisters-to-be, and attended a welcome party at the beach. I wish I could say I was enjoying the incredible experience of college life and meeting new people, but each time I had to introduce myself to anyone, especially guys, I found myself shrinking away or making some lame excuse to leave. What if they recognized my name?

  It completely sucked.

  When classes finally started on Wednesday, I felt a sense of relief. I could focus on something other than my nonexistent social life. That relief evaporated, though, the moment I sat down in the front row, ready to take my very first college course, when my advanced calculus professor called my name. A low murmur broke out in the room behind me, and the guy next to me, some straggly haired stoner-looking guy, got up and moved.

  What the hell? This felt all too reminiscent of being the plague of humanity in high school, except that I didn’t have Mandy.

  How dare Santiago! How dare he do this to me! I sat up straight and channeled my rage into extremely thorough note taking. The moment the professor ended his lecture, I was out the door and calling Santiago. Unlike any of the other times I’d called his number, this time it rang. He immediately picked up, but didn’t say anything.

  “I know you’re listening, you fucking bastard. I’m not going to let you do this. I’m not letting you take away my life.”

  “What if I’m helping you keep it?” he said in a low, no-nonsense tone.

  “Bullshit!” I barked, storming through campus. It was a bright sunny morning, and the campus crawled with students who now veered from my path, afraid I’d gone postal. “You listen to me, Santiago. You will take my name off that blacklist. You will never come near me again. If you do, so help me God, I will rip out your heart.”

  I heard a faint chuckle on the other end of the phone.

  “What?” I seethed. “You think this is funny!”

  “Not at all,” he replied. “I was thinking that you actually look like you might tear out my heart. It’s a relief to see you stand up for yourself like this.”

  “A relief?” I stopped and swiveled on my heel. “Where are you?” I knew he was watching me.

  “You just told me that you don’t want to see me.”

  “I changed my mind,” I growled.

  A long pause. “Maybe the blacklist was a bit overprotective. I’ll see what I can do to have it lifted,” he said.

  That was great, but we still had an issue.

  “Not good enough. I want you out of my life. Gone,” I said. “I mean it.”

  “I can’t do that,” he replied coldly.

  “Then expect a fight.”

  I ended the call and tried my dad again. Voicemail. Shit. I called my mother and got hers, too.

  What’s with these two? Maybe my dad was out of cell range—it happened when he went on shoots out in the boonies—but my mother usually called right back. Especially when I left an urgent message as I had done multiple times over the past few days.

  I dialed my Aunt Rhonda, who immediately answered. But when I asked her if she’d heard from my mom, she told me not to worry. “She probably forgot to charge her phone again and hasn’t noticed. Why? Is something wrong, honey?” she asked.

  What could I tell her that wouldn’t sound insane? “No—uhhh. Can you tell her I need to talk to her, though, if you hear from her?”

  “Sure, Dakota. But are you certain everything’s okay? How are you liking college?”

  “Yeah. You know. It’s college. I just need to talk to her about books and a couple of things. But, ummm, I need to run to class. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. Okay?”

  I hung up, scratching my head. My mother never forgot to charge her phone. Something wasn’t right, and an uneasy feeling washed over me.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I didn’t see or hear from Santiago for the next few days, but I knew he was there, watching. Even more annoying was that my dreams were completely contaminated by him. Sometimes they were dreams of him hunting me, but usually they were explicit dreams of us doing very explicit things: ravaging each other on the beach in broad daylight; making slow, passionate love next to a campfire—he loved camping, after all—and, of course, the shower.

  It seemed that my immature hormones had followed me to college.

  But I wasn’t going to let him win. I would find a way to extract him from my life. In fact, I’d already decided to go to the FBI on Monday. The only thing that made me uneasy was that part about him telling me to get prepared for my dad.

  On the bright side, my mother finally texted me and said that she was at some spa retreat up in Napa with her girlfriends. I guess with me out of the house, she could finally take time for herself, which was awesome. Although, I still couldn’t shake that feeling of something not being right, like she was avoiding me. When I texted her back about Santiago showing up, and me needing to talk to her and Dad,
she replied she’d try to track Dad down and call me later. That was all. Strange, to say the least. Almost as strange as the last time I’d mentioned Santiago and she did that weird thing with her face, and then pretended I hadn’t said anything. Maybe she really was afraid I’d gone bonkers.

  In any case, I’d survived my first week of college and held myself together despite the bizarre noise in the background of my life. Of course, that’s because I’d kept myself insanely distracted—joined a few study groups, went to my first chem club, signed up to volunteer for the beach cleanup crew with our neighbor Christy, and Skyped with Mandy two nights in a row. I couldn’t believe the transformation. Her personality, her enthusiasm, even her clothes. She’d become a metropolitan socialite overnight. She said New York was hands down the most exciting place in the world, and made me promise to visit for the weekend. Given how expensive tickets were, I’d probably see her back home for Christmas before I’d get out there.

  So while Mandy was out exploring the city nightlife with her new fashion friends, I planned to snack my way through Friday night and have a little History Channel alien documentary marathon on my laptop, after I had a quick therapy session.

  I pulled out my brand-new journal, the one my father had given me, and looked at its exquisite workmanship. The leather binding, the thick paper, the embossing with my name. I’d have to ask him where he bought these because I’d never go back to a cheesy drugstore journal. I got out my favorite pen and started writing down the events of my first few days of college. I left everything out about Santiago. He wasn’t welcome in my memories. He was a ghost, I determined, and ghosts belonged in the shadows, confined to the realm of whispers and folklore.

  “You coming?” Bridget popped her head inside the room. She wore a low-cut, baby-blue tank and her infamous short shorts. I wished I could get away with that outfit, but the Dane women were built for endurance and plowing fields or lifting cranes, or some shit like that. There wasn’t anything wrong with my body, but it simply wasn’t short shorts material.

  “I think I’m going to stay in tonight. Get caught up on my shows.”

  Bridget hissed. “Let me get this straight. It’s your first Friday away from home, possibly the biggest party night of the year, given it’s also pledge week, and you want to stay in our icky, gray dorm room? Get the hell out! You can watch TV tomorrow while you’re nursing a hangover.”

  “No. I’m really—”

  “You owe me a chauffeur.”

  I looked at her and narrowed my eyes. “Not fair. Wait. I thought you said I’d be nursing a hangover?”

  “Did I say that?” she replied with a guilty grin. “I meant you can watch TV tomorrow while I’m nursing a hangover. ’Cause you’re driving.”

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to go out. Not when I might bump into Santiago.

  “Come on. Eric is going to be there, and I really want to see him again.”

  “You’re going to Kappa House again?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’ll be fun! Come on,” she whined.

  You promised yourself you weren’t going to let him win. You can’t stay hidden in your room.

  I gave it a few moments of thought. Actually, going isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe I could get one of the Kappas to dish something about Santiago. Where he came from. Who he was. Why they all seemed to know him. I could also check to see if he’d lifted the Dakota ban.

  You’re lying to yourself, and you know it. You want to see him. Maybe a part of me did, but a stronger part of me wanted to go there to satisfy my urge to show him that I wasn’t afraid.

  “Okay,” I said, “I’ll drive. But can we come back early? I don’t want to be burned out tomorrow. Lots of studying to do.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Okay. But wear something mildly presentable, okay? Our Delta sisters will be there. By the way, Kelly Flores, the president of the sorority, asked about you today.”

  “She did? What did she want to know?” I asked.

  Bridget crinkled her face into that ugly ball. “Actually, she asked about that guy you were talking to at the party on Monday. She wanted to know if you and he were dating.”

  “Why would she want to know that?” I asked.

  Bridget made a little shrug. “Um, because he’s quite possibly the hottest man on the planet? So are you seeing him?” she asked.

  “No, definitely not.”

  “That’s what I told Kelly. I mean, you did make out with that Mike guy right in front of him.”

  “Then why does she think we’re dating?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Kelly mentioned that she bumped into him at the café yesterday, and he’d talked about you for ten minutes. Like he was in love with you. But then when she asked if you two were together, he made a weird comment—like, ‘hell would sooner freeze over.’”

  I admit I felt a tiny blister appear on my ego. “Nope. Not seeing him. Nor do I ever intend to.”

  Bridget released a breath. “Good. Because I think Kelly wants to ask him out or something. Wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of you joining the Tris.”

  I hadn’t actually decided I wanted to pledge a sorority, but Bridget seemed to have her heart set on us joining together, and I didn’t want to tell her no. She would never understand the turmoil lurking just below the surface of my life, like a bad rash waiting to erupt.

  “I’ll be ready in ten,” I said.

  “Yippy!” She clapped. “And don’t forget to put on something smashing, darrrling!”

  “But of course, darrrling.” I grabbed my makeup bag and headed for the bathroom. Maybe she was right, I should get dressed up. If Santiago had lifted the ban, then I was fair game now. Nothing like a pretty dress to get the guys talking to you.

  I just hoped he’d kept his word. Otherwise, there’d be no talking, only screaming. With my knee. In his groin.

  ~ ~ ~

  At eleven o’clock, Bridget and I arrived at Kappa House. Unlike Monday night, which was fun and only slightly wild, tonight was Animal House on steroids. It was a complete shock that the police weren’t camped outside issuing noise citations or throwing everyone in jail for public drunkenness. “How are all these people getting home?” I asked.

  Bridget pointed to a guy wearing a red tie. Yes, T-shirt, shorts, flip-flops, and a red tie. “He’s a pledge. Pledges never drink. They only get to drive people around.”

  Oh. Made sense.

  I turned to say something to Bridget, but she disappeared instantly, leaving me standing by myself in a loud ocean of students, smushed together, dancing, talking, trying not to spill their plastic cups filled with beer. I sighed and decided to work my way to the kitchen. Maybe I’d find that Mike guy or maybe I’d—

  “Miss Dane. It’s nice to see you, as always.”

  Santiago had popped out of nowhere, and the moment I turned, his eyes dropped to my chest. Yes, my tight, red, fitted dress was the lowest cut thing I owned. And honestly, I looked pretty good. Santiago’s sweeping eyes confirmed it.

  And—kick me hard—but he looked incredible. He wore a fitted, white linen shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean, well-built physique—sleeves rolled up to expose his hard, tanned forearms—and soft, worn jeans that embraced every manly angle of his manly lower half.

  “Great,” I said dryly. “My ghost is back. You’re actually becoming pretty predictable.” Even in my dreams he was predictable. He always started out by laying me down on my back and then allowing me to watch him remove his shirt, his thick biceps flexing as he worked his buttons to expose the chiseled mounds of his deeply tanned pectorals—

  Santiago snapped his fingers in my face. “Dakota?”

  I looked up at him and swallowed. “Yeah?” The word came out all scratchy.

  “I asked you a question,” he said.

  “Yeah?” I said. I could barely remember where I was.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

 
“I’m here because you’re here.”

  “Oh. To make sure I’m ‘safe and happy’?” I used my fingers to make air quotes.

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “I’m here to find a way to get rid of you,” I said.

  He smiled, flashing a tiny little dimple in his right cheek. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You know that will never happen.” His tone was playful and borderline smug. Why didn’t he take any of this seriously?

  “Do you have any idea how old this is getting, this…enigma, mystery man crap?”

  “I’m sure it is. But it’s better than the alternative.”

  “Which is?” I asked.

  Goofing around, two large dudes shuffled past and bumped me right into Santiago’s arms. My chest smashed against his body, our faces so close I could smell his sweet breath—cinnamon mixed with something kind of minty.

  Eyes locked, the two of us just stood there as people passed by laughing, screaming, and singing. I couldn’t help it, but him holding me so tightly, our hips pressed together, our lips within an easy distance, created tiny explosions of pinpricks throughout my body.

  He stared into my eyes for what seemed like an eternity and then his gaze slowly slid to my lips. Kick me again, but I realized that I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it so badly that I started to lean in just as he did.

  Wait. What’s wrong with me? I can’t be trusted around him. He’s like kryptonite for intelligence!

  I quickly pushed back. “All right. You win, Santiago. I’m done.” Coming to the party had been a stupid idea.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find Bridget. Maybe one of the pledges can drive her home.” I couldn’t take this anymore. The strangeness of the situation was simply too much, and though I’d tried to be strong and believe there were reasons for all this, I wouldn’t lie to myself anymore. The entire thing was terrifying. I had no control over my emotions when I was around him. This situation felt like being right back in high school, reliving those final months spinning in my head instead of enjoying life. After Janice was gone, I had a ton of offers for the senior ball. Boys actually wanted to date me, and the other girls were nice to me. I’d finally ditched my Queen Loser title, but instead of enjoying it, I spent every day wondering if Santiago might return. I woke up nightly in a cold sweat for months until I finally made a deal with myself. I’d promised that the moment I graduated and moved off to college, the past would stay behind.