The Opportunist Part 7

"Don't," I warned. For second I didn't think he'd have the guts. Next thing I know I was tumbling headfirst into the freezing water.

I came up gasping for air, my hair wrapped unbecomingly around my face. Caleb peeled it away laughing.

"I can't believe you did that!" I gasped, shoving him on the chest. It felt like I was pus.h.i.+ng on hot rocks.

"You look good wet," he said. "It would probably be easier to swim if you took off some of your clothes."

Shooting him a searing look, I started a b.r.e.a.s.t.stroke toward the side of the pool.

"Ahh, not one for fun I see." His voice was light when he said it but there was a definite challenge in his tone.

"Screw it," I mumbled, stopping a foot away from the ladder. I was the type of girl that would 'jump off of a bridge' to spite my friends.

I was wearing my good underwear anyway. I ducked under the water and shed my polyester skin like a snake. I resurfaced seconds later with just my skivvies on.

Caleb unconsciously mouthed "wow."

"To your fun," I toasted him with my sopping wet clothes and then threw them at his head. He dodged and circled around to where I was treading water.

"Nice lace," he smirked, eyeing me without shame.

"Can you not make it so obvious that you're looking?" I felt violated. I submerged myself under the water until only my head was visible.

"I thought our relations.h.i.+p was about honesty," he smiled.

"Pffffff. Our 'relations.h.i.+p'," I snickered, "is based on dares and blackmail."

His eyes were twinkling. He had such expressive eyes. I wanted to crush that twinkle and kick him where it hurt.

"Blackmail is such a harsh word," he said, swimming closer.

"You threatened to tell the school newspaper that I was the reason you missed the shot, Drake." He was way too close for comfort now. I began peddling backwards. There was a scar at the corner of his right eye that I had never noticed before. It was just a faint crescent moon, but somehow it made him look dangerous-in a s.e.xy way. I shook my head. These thoughts were not mine....they were Cammie's-d.a.m.n her.

"How did you get that scar?" I asked. I was shuffling along the bottom of the pool on my tiptoes to get away from him. He absently reached a finger out to touch it.

"I stole a pound note from my grandfather's wallet and when he caught me, he decided to punish me with his walking stick."

I felt one of those, 'this is why he's messed up,' moments coming on and I prepared myself to understand him.

"Really?"

"No."

I felt myself color red. I punched him on the arm as hard as I could.

"I fell off my bike when I was twelve," he laughed, rubbing the spot where I hit him. "A very boring story."

"At least it's the truth," I said, exasperated. "Someone like you doesn't need to lie to be interesting."

"Someone like me?" he asked. "You find me interesting Libby?"

"No, I don't, and don't call me Libby. You know you're really quite simple and boring," I said, sniffing.

He was looking away from me into the water.

"Did you drop a piece of your jewelry?"

"What?" his attention had s.h.i.+fted so suddenly, I felt offended.

"There's something down there at the bottom of the pool." He was pointing to a spot between our feet. I narrowed my eyes trying to see what he was staring at.

"I'm not wearing any jewelry," I said impatiently, "it's probably just a penny or something."

I nudged it with my toe. It was bigger than a penny. Before he could say anything else, I ducked my head under the water to retrieve it. When my head broke the surface of the water, Caleb automatically scooted closer.

"What is it?" he was staring at my clenched fist.

"Let's see," I said theatrically, pulling my fingers slowly away from my palm. It was not jewelry. It was an old penny, flattened, and stamped with a message that ent.i.tled its bearer one free shot of affection, a kiss.

Before I realized what I was doing, I dropped the souvenir into his palm.

"You're full of tricks tonight aren't you?"

He was laughing...always laughing. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Before I could retort with something clever, Caleb reached out and scooped me around my waist. Even in the cold water, his touch felt scorching hot. He pulled me toward him and our bodies were pressed together, belly to belly, chest to chest. I was so shocked, that at first I made no protest. I hadn't been this spatially close to another human being since I was an infant. He grinned, his eyes turning smoky with what I perceived as l.u.s.t. I gave up fighting and allowed my lips to be steered toward his. This is for Cammie, I told myself. There was no 'nice and easy' with this boy. He grazed his tongue along the inside of my bottom lip. He was gentle at first, trying to coax my stubborn lips into some form of cooperation. I responded with the only thing I knew: frigid prudity. Caleb, undaunted by my lack of enthusiasm pulled away from me. His hands were wrapped around my waist, his fingers positioned right beneath my panty line. Our foreheads were touching and my breath was coming out in little gasps. It was embarra.s.sing.

"Kiss me back, Olivia." His voice was commanding, and for a second, I felt a flare of rebellion like I did when he instructed me to put on my seat belt. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. I didn't win that fight. I probably wouldn't win this one either. I might not even want to win it.

I could do it. Kissing was a no-brainer, like eating or walking. His lips came back a second time and I bent my head toward him, tilted like in the movies. I was ready this time, willing even. I jumped when we connected and his lips, which were pressed against mine, stretched into an amused smile. He laughed into my mouth. It was infuriating and incredibly s.e.xy. I tried to pull away, but he pulled me back. The kiss. The kiss. The kiss. It was chocolate cake and fizzy pa.s.sion and goose b.u.mps. No one had ever kissed me like that before.

Then, he did the strangest thing-he pulled away and held me at arm's length. The spell was broken.

"Olivia..." His voice was rough. I shook my head. I didn't want to hear what he was going to say.

"I have to go," I said quickly. The water, which had been still, began rippling as I struggled over to the side of the pool. In one smooth motion, I pulled myself up and out of the water and looked down at my s.h.i.+vering body. I was canoodling in a pool in my underwear with the college Casanova. I was a harlot. Grabbing my wet clothes from the ground I looked around in alarm. Someone was going to see me walk back wearing wet clothes.

"Olivia," he said again. I refused to look at him. "Here," he handed me his dry sweats.h.i.+rt, which I accepted gratefully and pulled over my head. He opened his mouth.

"Look, whatever you're going to say, don't!"

He nodded. We walked out the gate and into the parking lot. Caleb retrieved a gym towel from his car and handed it to me. I dabbed at my face and hair and pa.s.sed it back, my eyes on the floor. I was too ashamed to say anything. My behavior had been tacky. I didn't want to give him the wrong impression. I ground my molars together and pressed my eyes closed.

"Goodnight, Caleb." I said quickly, sounding half strangled. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away. Why had he pulled away like that? The first time I'd ever let myself go, and I got a hard slap in the face.

"By tomorrow, he'll forget you," I hissed to myself, "and then you can move on with your life and forget what kissing him felt like."

I woke up the next morning feeling as if I had swallowed a mouthful of gravel. My throat was burning and my body ached. I burrowed under my covers and tried to shut out images from the night before. They were stupid and reckless images that kept replaying themselves over and over until I wanted to scream. There was no room for mistakes in my life. I didn't have any family or the back-spring of money. I had one shot to make something of myself and Caleb was the type of distraction that could throw my life off balance He called twice during the day and once after dinner. I put my phone on silent and forbade Cammie from answering it. I got dressed for cla.s.s on Monday morning, still slightly green and determined to pretend that nothing had happened. We had a Sociology cla.s.s together, something he probably didn't realize since it was one of the larger cla.s.ses this semester, and I sat as far to the front of the room as he sat to the rear.

When I arrived, the auditorium was filling up quickly. Bleary eyed and dizzy, I made my way to the far left side of the building. Hidden by an overhang were five coveted seats shrouded in shadow. I wanted to hide there. Their usual occupants were the cla.s.s sleepers and a guy who looked like Fred Flintstone gone Unabomber. Today I was lucky. Two seats had yet to be claimed. I began trotting across the aisles, my bag clutched in an iron grip to my side. I was halfway there when I heard my name called from the professor's podium.

"Miss Kaspen?"

I froze. Professor Grubbs was addressing me through his microphone and people were turning in their seats to stare. I tried to keep walking like I hadn't heard him.

"Miss Kaspen?" Professor Grubbs sang again, "where do you think you're going?"

I turned slowly, plastering a smile over my gritted teeth. The obnoxious, insufferable, piece of....

"Good morning Professor," I said sweetly.

His three chins were swinging beneath his grinning mouth like a pendulum. Caleb, whose head had been bent over his textbook a moment ago pivoted toward me in his seat. Caught. I looked over my shoulder longingly as two students slipped into the chairs I was headed for.

"Is there something wrong with your regular seat?" asked Professor Grubbs, motioning toward the front row. "Is it my breath?" He blew into his hand and pretended to sniff. There was collective snickering around the room.

I glared at him and quietly made my way to the front of the room.

Professor Grubbs was a three hundred pound bull with a penchant for being controversial. Students were intimidated by the professor's booming voice and over imposing presence. I found him loveable. But, not today-today I hated him.

"It looks to me like you're hiding from someone." He leaned on his podium, and for a second, I thought it was going to crack underneath his weight.

My eyes darted to Caleb. He was smiling.

Aaaargh!

"Hiding from someone?" I sighed as I sat. "Why would I be hiding from someone? And I thank you to not a.n.a.lyze my every move, especially for the entire cla.s.s to hear," I added with a hiss.

Professor Grubbs looked at me mischievously and then he cleared his throat into the microphone.

He kept his eyes on me when he said, "Is there anyone in this room who suspects Olivia Kaspen is avoiding them?"

Caleb raised his hand.

I dropped my head until my chin was touching my chest.

"Mr. Drake?" Professor Grubbs was openly surprised. "Please come and take a seat next to Olivia so I can watch her squirm."

I heard his footsteps, then felt his presence next to me as he slid into a chair. I kept my head down.

"You're quite a handsome boy," Professor Grubbs said. "I don't think I've ever seen you this close before."

I lifted my head and snorted. Professor Grubbs stared us down, his eyes traveling from Caleb to me with unveiled curiosity.

"I have a newfound hunger for knowledge, sir. I think I'll be sitting this close from now on."

"Now, I know that the rumors are true, Mr. Drake."

"What rumors, Professor?" Caleb's voice was cheerful, teasing even.

"You're full of s.h.i.+t." There was a rippling of laughter across the student body. Caleb smiled undaunted. He was basking in the attention.

"Feeling better?" he said, quietly, as the lecture had now begun.

"Yes. I'm fine." I stared straight ahead and held my breath against his cologne.

As he reached into his bag, his leg brushed against mine. I jerked away, but it was too late, I already had that fairy wing feeling in my stomach.

"Sorry," he mouthed, grinning. I scowled at him and slapped my textbook so hard on my desk that Professor Grubbs paused in his lecture to look over at me.

"Easy Slick," he said under his breath. "If you start acting out every time you're around me, people will catch on to how much you like me."

My jaw unhinged.

I tried to listen to the lecture, I honestly did, but at the end of the fifty-minute cla.s.s, I couldn't recall a single thing that had been said. I had the smell of his cologne memorized, however, and I could tell you in detail about the patterns of movement that he made: tapping his pencil on his book in sequences of three, s.h.i.+fting his legs out from under his desk so that one bounced up and down on the toe of his foot and the other stretched lazily in front of him. When we were dismissed, I shot out of my seat like a live cannon ball and headed for the door. He didn't pursue me. In fact, when I turned back to get a look at where he was, I couldn't see him at all. My first reaction was that of relief and then disappointment. Perhaps, he finally got the message, and he was out of my hair for good.

He was waiting for me in front of my dorm building later that day. I straightened my back and took the next few seconds to get my emotions under control. Breathe, Olivia, he's just another boy and they're all made of the same junk. I stopped a few feet away from where he was standing, if I smelled him, I knew I would lose resolve. This was picturesque. Us standing under a streetlight in an emotional face-off, messenger bags crossed across our chests.

"Caleb," I said my voice too high, "I'm going to be honest." He nodded blinking slowly.

"I'm just not interested...in what you're...interested in. I like you, but just as a friend." I stopped to check his face, which was as unreadable as War and Peace, and threw in one last jab to bring my point home. "I just don't think we're compatible."

"That's not how it feels to me." He looked alarmingly intense and I had to stare at my shoes to avoid being sucked into his eyes.

"Um, well I'm sorry. I guess we're just on two different wave lengths," I stammered.

"No, that's not what I meant. I know you like me just as much as I like you. But, it's your choice, and I am a gentleman. You want me to back off-okay. Goodbye, Olivia." He walked away.

I looked after him in dismay. Had I really just done that? I wanted to chase after him and tell him that I only partially meant it and that every time I was around him I felt intoxicated, and if he could please just kiss me one more time so I could be sure I was doing the right thing.

I didn't of course.

Caleb, true to his word, steered clear of me for the next five months. So clear, in fact, that sometimes when we pa.s.sed each other around campus he would stare right through me.

I kept thinking about what my mother would have said about this situation.

"A real chunk of man meat and you screw it up because you're afraid. You're too much like your father, Olivia."

I was a relations.h.i.+p r.e.t.a.r.d. I kicked, shoved, and punched people out of my life, so they never had a chance to hurt me.

Life carried on, but all of a sudden it wasn't the same. There was a change in me. I couldn't put my finger on it but somewhere in my brain a new door had appeared and despite my hardest efforts to keep it closed, my thoughts kept going there, wandering around in the empty room, putting up images of Caleb. Sometimes I felt sad for days, then my mood would swing and I would feel incredible rage towards him for messing with my head. Around the second month of my emotional torture, I gave up the fight. Obviously, I no longer wanted to be an island. Maybe it was time to open up and experiment with relations.h.i.+ps.

I became interested in boys almost overnight. I enlisted Cammie's help and she gave me lessons on blow-drying my hair, doing my make-up, and, like any true friend, introduced me to the padded bra. This new, smooth and puckered look, along with great effort on my part not to be dour, got me one date and then two. By month four, I owned my very own pair of hot rollers and had acc.u.mulated a small group of ardent admirers.

I was seeing Brian the brain who was a pre-med major, Tobey who drove a Lamborghini and took me to sw.a.n.ky restaurants, and of course there was Jim, a poet who was too artsy fartsy for his own good. He smoked a carton of Marlboro's day and could recite chunks of Tolstoy. He was my favorite, everything he did and said was so bold it gave me a thrill. There was of course, just one problem with all of these men: they were not filling that 'Caleb room' in my head. He was like an itch that never went away. I thought of him when I looked at trees, buildings, and when I was in the check-out line at Target choosing gum. I thought of him when I brushed my teeth and when Cammie was babbling on and on about the color of her new shoes (which she claimed were salmon, but were to my estimation, coral). After five months, I was sick and tired of seeing his face in my head. Caleb saturated my existence and I was screwed. To make matters worse-he was everywhere, involved in everything, and smiling at everyone. I couldn't get away from him. I stopped seeing Tobey and Brian and kept Jim on the backburner because I genuinely liked him as a person. I gave up dating, it wasn't me anyway, and took up professional stalking instead.

I kept up on who Caleb was dating through Cammie's gossip chain, a cla.s.sic group of nosy freshman who had wagging tongues, and too little homework. I knew that he dated Susanna because she had killer legs, and Marina because she loved basketball, and she had killer legs. I knew that he took Emily to Disney World for their one-month anniversary and that Danielle got a Burberry purse for her twenty-second birthday. I knew all of these things, and yet, I couldn't bring myself to talk to him.

"You remind me of that slimy looking dwarf from Lord of the Rings," Cammie commented one day. I had just finished quizzing her on Caleb's evening at Pa.s.sions Nightclub where she had seen him carrying on with a new blonde.