Love Show by Audrey Bell Read Free Book Online Page B

was
looking for the quickest remedy. I scrolled through my emails until I found the
one from Alexander Faulk.
    While I walked to my car, I emailed
Faulk, asking when he would be available to speak. I sat in the car turned on
the heat and waited for him to write back.
    I’ve never been the world’s most
patient person. After a Miley Cyrus song and three commercials on the radio, Faulk
still hadn’t written back so I drove to the frat house.
    It was eight o’clock in the
morning. I told myself that civilized people woke up at eight o’clock, which
meant I was allowed to disturb the uncivilized people who were still sleeping.
Maybe teach them some good habits.
    The frat house was charming, yellow
and clapboard. I parked across the street and walked as confidently as I could
up the porch stairs to the front door.
    I hadn’t been to a frat house at
Northwestern. Not because I had anything against them. I didn’t. I just didn’t have
friends in fraternities.
    But this felt personal. It was hard
not to hold a grudge against the organization responsible for bullying Justin.
    I rang the doorbell and looked at
the wide porch, which would have been inviting if it weren’t carpeted with
crushed beer cans and cigarette butts. This is revolting , I thought. How
does anyone live like this?
    I hit the doorbell again and then
knocked loudly. I thought of Justin. I took a breath and remembered that I was
here in a professional capacity.
    Justin. Confront it head on.
Like an adult. Man to man. Woman to man. Just do it. I took a breath and
knocked once more.
    “YO! Just come in. It’s unlocked!”
someone shouted over the faint sound of music. I pushed open the creaking door.
The wide entryway was dusty, but uncluttered, and the French doors to my left
were flung open to an empty lounge, where the TV was on.
    “Hello?” I called out.                               
    Nobody responded.
    “Hello?” I shouted, a little
louder.
    “There’s money in the kitchen. Just
leave the pizza on the counter,” the same rumbling voice called.
    “I’m not delivering pizza,” I
shouted back.
    Who the hell ordered pizza at eight
o’clock in the morning anyways?
    “Shit. Hang on.”
    He came down the stairs, buttoning
a red plaid shirt.
    When he looked up, my heart
stopped.
    It was the boy from the tailgate
who I had kissed.
    God, he looked good.
    And God he was the last person I
wanted to see right now.
    I took half a step backwards like
fleeing back to my car was an option.
    No , I told myself. Just
do it . Pretend you never kissed him. Never happened.
    He laughed. It was a low, rolling,
and pleasant sound. He ran his hand through his damp hair. I bit my tongue
watching him.
    “I really never did catch that
name,” he said softly. He slid his hands into his pockets and smiled at me.
    “Hadley Arrington.”
     “Ah. Hadley Arrington.” He smiled
wider. “Well, I knew the easiest solution to my problem would’ve been asking
you, but you are very, very hard to find. In fact, I had very recently
concluded that you were some sort of rainstorm mirage.”
    “I’m not a mirage,” I said flatly. 
    “I bet that’s what you tell all the
boys.”
    My eyes quivered in their sockets,
absolutely itching to roll. “Listen, is Alexander Faulk here?”
    “You mean Xander? No. He’s not back
from Minnesota yet.”
     I nodded. “Gotcha.”
    “Hadley Arrington,” he repeated my
name with a wolfish grin, and came the rest of the way down the stairs. He sat
down on the steps and tied one of his sneakers. “You remember me, right?”
    I nodded. “Yes.” Unfortunately,
since I’m not here to make friends .
    “You honestly don’t want to know my
name?” he asked. I looked at him, praying his name didn’t belong to one of the
email addresses I’d culled from Justin’s inbox.
    “What’s your name?” I asked.
     “Jack,” he said with a cocky grin.
When I didn’t return the smile, he ran a hand through his