Let Life Happen Page 4

  “All right, guys. I don’t want to keep you too long on our first day, but you all need to do a small genetics lab by Wednesday. Here are the requirements, and this’ll be a nice test to see how the class will work for the semester. If you have any questions, I’ll be here for the next hour.”

  I eyed Aiden from the side and saw him texting. Anger swarmed through me again. I was disappointed. He had to plan parties and buy beer and get drunk. Okay, I was stereotyping him, but I didn’t care. I always got stuck doing the majority of the work, and I was used to it. I would do more of the work because I needed the A. I went to the front and got the assignment and dug out my journal.

  “So how you want to split this up?” he asked and shoved his phone into his bag. He looked at me expectantly, and I tilted my head.

  “Oh, you’re planning on doing part of the work?” I deadpanned.

  He laughed, and I was drawn to the sound but immediately shut down all emotion. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

  “Uh, I just…” I stammered. “Assumed you might not help?” It sounded like a question, and his mouth tilted up on one side.

  “You know what they say about assuming, right? Makes an ass out of you and me. Hmm…I wouldn’t mind seeing your ass.”

  “Oh my God. You’re not a real person. No one says that,” I ridiculed him.

  “You’d be surprised how often it works for me,” he replied. He shrugged and continued. “Honestly, I love this shit and need to get good grades, so if anything, I should be the one concerned. I mean, you’re a short little thing. Can you even use a microscope?”

  “Oh, hell no.” I knew he was kidding. He nudged his shoulder into mine as if we were buddies or something. We weren’t. “This is going to be a long semester,” I grumbled.

  “Was that in response to me loving this class or needing to get good grades? Because, really, you shouldn’t judge me before you know me.” He lowered his voice, and my lady parts woke from hibernation.

  “Touché.” I gave him a pointed look.

  He stood. He was a foot taller than me, so when I was sitting down, he towered over me. He bent down, stopping right in front of my face. “Jenna, you were the one to judge me first. You did at the bar. Now here.” He held my stare for a minute before he broke the spell. “I’ll go get the microscope.”

  “You’re infuriating. I don’t know how we’re going to get through this semester.” I threw up my hands in defeat and smacked my head on the table as he walked toward the other side of the classroom. I hated he was right. I did judge him. I wasn’t far off, but still. I hated admitting I was wrong.

  He walked back toward our table and surprised me by asking, “So why a genetics lab? I hear you can make a mean potion at Isaac’s.”

  “Ha-ha,” I fake laughed. I got it a lot. Bartender and biology. So funny. “Biological sciences is my major. I have to take this class.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. What you want to do with it?” He was holding the conversation so casually, like we were friends. I couldn’t be rude and ignore him. Well, not completely. I was an asshole, but if he was making the effort, I could be cordial. At least that’s what I told myself.

  “I’m not sure. I love the thought of working in a lab, experimenting and trying to find cures for diseases. Or maybe going to med school. I don’t think I could handle another ten years of school, though.”

  “That’s awesome. I’d love to major in biological sciences.” His brow furrowed, and it piqued my interest.

  “Why can’t you?” I grabbed the next specimen we were supposed to analyze and set it on the slide. He grabbed it from me. At the contact, my pulse quickened in an alarming way. This is new.

  “I’m supposed to go into law.” He said it so quietly I barely heard him.

  “Supposed to? As in, ‘Oh, my scholarship is for that,’ or as in, ‘I don’t have a choice in it’?”

  “Look at you, figuring it all out within minutes. Everyone in my family is a lawyer. I’m going to continue the tradition.” His jaw was tense, and he looked like he regretted what he said as soon as he did. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine in law school and go into the family business.”

  “That’s part of the conversation I heard when you were on the phone.”

  “Yes. It’s why I was in such a foul mood. My dad and I were having a disagreement. Let me just say this again. I don’t often apologize more than once, but I am truly sorry for what I said to you. You called me out on my shit at the table in front of my brothers, and I wanted to hurt you.”

  I nodded, appreciating his acknowledgment of the incident. I admired people who didn’t beat around the bush and just spoke the truth. If you fucked up, just say it. I was a goddamn hypocrite.

  “I know it’s one thing to start over as friends, but now we’re stuck together all semester…I think it’s important you know I really mean it.”

  I’m sure my mouth dropped, but I took in his earnest expression. I had no reason to ignore his apology. I bit my cheek for a second and eyed him up and down. I meant it to be a power play, but instead, it turned out to be a full-body scan.

  I shook my head from those thoughts and held out a hand. “Okay. I won’t bring it up again. You’re forgiven. We aren’t necessarily friends yet.”

  “Phew. You had me sweating there for a second,” he teased. He shook my hand, and his lips quirked on the side. “Maybe not yet, but we will be. I have a feeling.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I pulled my hand out of his grasp.

  “Less talking, more action.” He grabbed his journal and looked sheepishly at me. “I meant more working on the lab.”

  “Sure, sure.” I chuckled but grabbed the slides we needed. We worked in comfortable silence for a good fifteen minutes. Then I had a breakthrough. Maya would be proud of me. I could attempt to be friendly enough. It wouldn’t kill me. “How was the rest of your party Saturday? Shit get crazy?”

  “It went well enough. Beer, girls, mistakes—you know the drill.”

  “I’ve seen it enough at the bar to know. I surprisingly had a good time at your frat. Never thought I would,” I admitted.

  “Judging again?” His brow rose.

  “Absolutely. I see your kind come in and party. It’s definitely a certain style. But I do have to go back on my word. Your frat’s party was clean and not too gross.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. Was it hard for you to say?” Humor danced in his eyes.

  “Damn right it was.”

  He pointed to the assignment with raised eyebrows. He began writing down the next set of observations. I looked over his shoulder, making sure he was writing down correct information. It seemed like he knew his shit, which was a goddamn miracle. But he caught me. “Double-checking my spelling?”

  “Yup.”

  “No trust, shorty. No trust. I have a brain up here, you know.” He pointed to his temple.

  “Whatever, pretty boy.” I shook my head.

  “That cannot be my nickname. Nope. I hate it.” He shook his head like a petulant child.

  “Then good. It’s settled. Now pass me the lab. You do the next slides.”

  “Okay, boss lady.”

  Chapter 6

  You Only Get One First Impression; Glad I Got a Do-Over-Aiden

  “YO, prez. I gotta ask you something.” Kam strutted up as I grabbed a box of cereal. I didn’t even bother with a bowl. I knew I was going to eat it all.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Can I ask Jenna out?” His hands ran over his hair, a nervous tick.

  The question caught me off guard, and I took a second before glancing at him. “Why are you asking for my goddamn permission? You can do whatever the hell you want.” It came out more of a bark than acceptance.

  “Cool, man, just wanting to check. I know you kinda had an awkward start and all. I think she might be into me. I ran into her again on the quad earlier this week. Anyways, see ya later.” His tone was brig
hter, and it pissed me off.

  I had no intention of ever asking Jenna out, but I would totally sleep with her. Not like it was even a possibility.

  For some unknown reason, the cereal box crumpled in my hands.

  I’d barely sat down to eat and watch the baseball highlights from the night before when Jon entered the kitchen with a wary look. Great, bad news already.

  “Chode-face. Let me eat my cereal before you drop this news,” I said, mouth full.

  “How’d you know?” He then pointed to my mouth and cringed. “Gross.”

  “Your face.”

  He rolled his eyes and plopped down on the chair next to me. “You’re such a dick. It’s about your dad.”

  I shut my eyes and did my best to tune him out, but my tactic didn’t work. He continued, forcing me to pay attention. “He’s hosting some alumni Sigma get-together. At the house. This Friday. This fucking Friday.”

  “Why would he do that? Damn him. He knows that’s our second rush party. Did he call you?” Panic set it, my nosh not as important as it was seconds before.

  “Well, his secretary did—to talk to me about finances at the house, but you know how sneaky she is. I mean, she works for your dad. She talked her way into it without letting me get a word in. We need to hire caterers, a cleaning crew, and get the boys to buy a goddamn tie.”

  I rubbed my hands over my eyes. My chest tightened. This was an intentional slap in my face because I’d yelled at him. My issues with him shouldn’t mess with my frat. “Fuck him. We won’t do it.”

  “That’s the thing. The national president of Sigma is coming as well. It would be chapter suicide if we canceled now. Do you have any ideas for caterers with only two days’ notice? I’ll move some funds around and cancel the DJ for Friday. Hopefully, we can move it to next week. This just puts us a week behind.” He groaned into his hand.

  “We’ll have the council meet in the office tonight at six. We’ll figure it all out. I have class in an hour, and after, we’ll make the calls.” I mentally began making a list of shit to do. Shit I should have started weeks ago.

  “Let’s hope we can figure it out. I’m stressing out about this. I swear, the finances of a frat are so much harder than people think. This shit better get me a nice-ass job.”

  I laughed at his expression, hoping he did, too. He worked harder than anyone I knew. His calm demeanor balanced out my temper. He was more of a brother to me than my biological sibling. We would get through the next shit storm my dad threw at me. We had to.

  My favorite class was the perfect excuse to not think about what we had to do within forty-eight hours. I loved science and annoying my hot lab partner. It was truly a win-fucking-win. I threw on some clothes which smelled relatively clean and got there just in time.

  Luckily, class hadn’t started yet, but I saw Jenna sitting at our table, pulling out her ghetto laptop. Inexplicably, my mood brightened.

  “What’s up, J-Money?”

  She rolled her eyes but didn’t answer. I saw her mouth twitch a little though, so I was calling it a victory.

  “Not a fan of J-Money?”

  “Not even a little bit.” She looked over as I sat, and she frowned. “You okay?”

  “Uh, yeah. Fine. Why?” I was shocked she could read me so well after barely knowing each other a week. I thought I covered my emotions better.

  “Nothing, you looked upset. Never mind. You want to get started on the lab for today? It should only take a couple hours.”

  “You bet.” Everything else disappeared, and I welcomed the challenge before us.

  We worked in silence for an hour, examining slides and taking notes. I was surprised at how efficient she was, and incredibly smart. I found myself asking her questions just to see if she knew the answer.

  “Can you explain what an HLA system is?”

  She laughed and snarled at me. “Dude, I’m not a textbook. This isn’t exactly entertaining conversation, you asking me vocabulary questions.”

  Color flooded my face for a second before I apologized. “My bad. It was interesting to see how much knowledge you have stored in your small body.”

  “More than you can handle,” she quipped. “I gotta say you’re smart for a pretty boy. I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I am not pretty, nor will I ever be. Take it back.” I inwardly sighed. Being called pretty was worse than being called cute.

  “Nope.”

  “You’re frustrating. Okay, new question. Why do you work at a bar?”

  Her eyes widened, and she shrugged. “Random, but I make awesome money there. I started working as a waitress when I was in high school. Eventually moved up to bartender when I was old enough.”

  “Do you like it?” I was curious because it was notorious for being a college hangout.

  “Of course. I would quit and get a new job if I didn’t like it.”

  “Even with all the frat guys?” I bit my lip, not knowing how she would react to the question.

  She thought about it for a moment before answering. “It’s different when you’re behind the bar. You have this barrier, or shield more or less, and I can chat it up with any walk-up life from behind the bar. Behind it, I’m just the girl who wears low-cut shirts and makes drinks for people. Sure, I have to have conversations with people, but they’re shallow, and then I get tipped and I move on.”

  “Interesting outlook I guess. I’ve never noticed you behind the bar, and I know I’ve been there countless times.” I rubbed my jaw and watched her gaze follow the movement for a second before she replied.

  “As I mentioned before, you’ve definitely been there when I’ve been working. You’re always covered in ladies, so why would you notice some bartender who wasn’t your type?”

  There was no hidden meaning in her words. I could tell. But I still felt I should apologize for saying she wasn’t my type. Before I could, she held up her hand.

  “Listen, Aiden, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment or being dramatic. I always call it like I see it. I happen to like how I look. I know. Shocker, right?” She smiled and kept going. “You don’t have to defend what you said to me. You were being honest.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t.” I blushed for the second time that day but she made a face at me. “I honestly don’t have a type. I wanted to assure you I wouldn’t try anything. You were looking at me with fear and a little hatred in those intense green eyes.”

  She blinked a couple of times before nodding. “Okay. I appreciate the honesty. I also was drunk and pissed at you not only for beating me at beer pong, but also for practically stiffing me and yelling at me. That’s a lot of emotion for me to handle.”

  “Holy shit. I never tipped you. God, could I be more of an asshole?” I said it more to myself than to her, but she chuckled anyway.

  “Don’t even worry about it. It happens more than you think. Consider the amount of liquor I drank at the party to be payment enough.”

  A sudden thought occurred to me, and I slammed my fist on the table in excitement. “Do you cater?”

  She jumped out of her seat at my sudden motion, but she nodded with questions in her eyes. Instinctively, I put my hand on hers to help her back onto the stool, and she stiffened at my touch. I withdrew my hand and ignored the encounter.

  “Listen, I know it’s short notice, but there’s an emergency frat event this Friday. It’s black tie, and we have nothing planned. Zero. We need to find a caterer ASAP. You guys are a pretty popular local bar, so it would be perfect. Please say this is a possibility?”

  I practically held my breath until she responded, “I’d have to ask Cynthia, my boss, to see if we could do it. It is the second weekend on campus, so we’ll be slammed. Let me text her.”

  “Fucking hell, I hope this works,” I muttered.

  She laughed at my expression, and her smile sent all sorts of weird feelings down my spine. I didn’t know what to do with these feelings.

  “Oka
y, she responded. She needs to know how many people by tonight, and we’ll have to find at least three servers to work it. It is possible, but not one hundred percent for sure.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. We’ll pay really well, too. Wanna be one of the servers and serve a bunch of rich old guys?”

  She scrunched her nose in disgust before shaking her head. “If Cyn makes me, I won’t have a choice, but it doesn’t sound like my cup of tea. No offense. Now put me in a room full of construction workers, and I’d be at home.”

  Her statement confused me, but before I could ask about it, I got a text from Jon.

  Jon: Council meeting is a go for six. Canceled DJ. Moved to next Friday. Thank Jesus.

  Aiden: May have a potential caterer. Need decorations, maid service, and music.

  Jon: I’ll do some research. I’m five beers in, though.

  Aiden: Lucky bastard. How are we on numbers?

  Jon: Of beer or for the party? Cuz I’m planning on drinking a twelve-pack.

  Aiden: Chode-face. The party.

  Jon: 200 give or take.

  Aiden: Sweet. Call a maid service to come tomorrow. Get the pledges to start scrubbing. I’ll call the furniture rental place as soon as I can for tables.

  “Okay, so got confirmation on the numbers. Is two hundred manageable?”

  My prayer was answered. Fuck. Yes. “She said she’s good to go. Give me your number so I can text it to her. She’ll need to call and ask some questions.”

  “Awesome-sauce. Here, you should probably save my number anyway. Text me yours.” I felt some pressure lift. I wanted to flip my dad the middle finger. He wanted me to fuck this up and fail. It was some sick sort of punishment. But I wouldn’t. “Jenna, you really helped save my ass.”

  “Well, it’s not official or anything, but I’m glad I could help, I guess.” She gave me a small smile.

  “I owe you. Majorly. Just name it.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” She looked down at her phone and cussed. “Aw, hell. I’m assigned lead on this. I get to pick two others to come with me, but damn. Guess I’ll be at the party.”