Chapter 5

CHAPTER

5

JESSICA

November 1998

THE PHONE RANG and rang. I hung up and sat on my bed, my shoulders slumped, my heart heavy. I couldn't call him at home. I didn't want to talk to Mom. I didn't want her to hear the pain in my voice.

I needed my dad.

I called his office again, knowing he'd be there. He would have snuck out after Mom went to bed. She was a sound sleeper.

Finally he picked up. He sounded out of breath.

"Dad."

It was all I said before the tears came and then I couldn't say anything at all.

"I'm here for you, Jess," he promised.

I felt silly, turning to my father. I was an adult now. I was living on my own. But sometimes a girl still needed her father, no matter how hard it was to admit.

We were close. This separation was difficult.…for both of us.

The hall was unusually crowded as Daisy and I headed out for dinner. I pulled the door shut behind me. Daisy wrote a note on the wipe board letting our friends know we were headed to the Commons, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of excited apprehension that vibrated around us.

"Hey guys, did you hear about Tammy?"

We turned to acknowledge the tall girl with bleached-blonde hair and thin, penciled eyebrows who was standing eagerly in her doorway, as if waiting for us to appear.

Daisy gave her a look of annoyance. "What about her?" she asked.

Kara followed us to the stairwell at the end of the hall. "She's missing."

That caught my roommate's attention. Daisy's mouth popped open in shock. "What do you mean she's missing ?"

Kara's eyes widened dramatically. "As in, no one has seen or heard from her in like four days."

"I thought things were less oppressive around here," Daisy joked and I laughed along half-heartedly.

"Maybe she went home," I suggested uneasily.

"No way. Thanksgiving break is in like two weeks, why would she go home now?" Kara argued. She followed us down the stairs and through the lounge. Once outside, the three of us stopped, the other two clearly wanting to continue playing investigator.

"Midterms ended last week, maybe she's partying somewhere." I shrugged attempting to mimic Daisy's nonchalance.

"Come on, this is Tammy we're talking about. She's allergic to partying," Daisy quipped and Kara laughed. "We can come up with a better theory than that one, Jess."

"I'm sure it's nothing—" I started to protest, but Kara and Daisy were already knee deep in speculation.

"Ooh, maybe she ran off with that older guy she's been screwing."

"What older guy?"

"The married professor. I think he teaches intro to statistics."

"Oh my god, Tammy was boinking a teacher? Was it Dr. Daniels? Everyone knows he's really into his students, if you know what I mean."

Dr. Daniels.

An image of the handsome man with the kind smile I had almost run into came to mind.

"Maybe, I don't know his name."

"Guys, I think you're making a big deal out of nothing," I interjected, raising my voice to be heard over their excited discussion. "I overheard her telling her friend Brenda that she had tickets to the Phish show in DC last weekend. That's probably where she went. She made a big deal out of how she spent three months following them last summer, I bet that's what she's doing."

Daisy and Kara both deflated at the very realistic possibility of our missing RA's whereabouts. "Yeah, she was always going on and on about that. It was the one semi-interesting thing about her," Daisy grumbled.

"Well, whatever, she's definitely gone. So all the girls are planning a massive hall party tonight. You in?" Kara asked us, having already lost interest in why Tammy was missing. Who cared as long as she wasn't back before the party.

"Sure. I'll invite some of the Phi Lam guys and Jess will put together a playlist," Daisy offered and Kara practically jumped up and down.

"Yeah, sounds like fun," I agreed, looking forward to a night of carefree frivolity. "I hope everyone likes the Dave Matthews Band."

Daisy groaned good-naturedly. "She plays Before These Crowded Streets nonstop. I have been forced to learn all the lyrics against my will," she explained to Kara. My roommate was a classic-rock junkie. She didn't seem to have much taste for music post 1985. She and my dad would get along really well.

"It's either that or Backstreet Boys," I warned, causing Daisy to cringe dramatically.

"Dave it is," she agreed. We grinned at each other, warm with camaraderie.

"This is going to be sick!" Kara squealed before running back into the dorm.

"Well, she's something else." Daisy looped her arm with mine as we made our way to the cafeteria. "So, do you really think our irritating RA has run off to follow some band around?"

I forced myself to smile. The topic made my stomach hurt and my chest tight.

"Who knows. What I do know is that she's not worth the energy thinking about."

"You're totally right. Which means we really need to live it up while we can. Though twenty bucks says she's tucked away having naked time with her grandpa boyfriend." Daisy released my arm as we walked along the outer path that overlooked Mt. Randall.

She pulled us to a stop, looking down the hill at the buildings and streets below. "I still can't believe you grew up here." It was the same sentiment she uttered every time we ventured into town. It felt strange going down the hill to visit familiar shops and restaurants after enveloping myself in Southern State's cocoon. I was both embarrassed and defensive of the tiny place I had always called home.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you don't seem like a small town girl, Jess," she commented, throwing her arm around me.

I felt warm all over. Daisy was right. I was changing. I felt it. I had thought I'd only ever be a girl from a small town. But that wasn't true. I was more than that.

We moved on, heading to the Commons. Once in the cafeteria, she waved at a group of girls sitting at a circular table in the middle of the room. "Grab me a cranberry juice, will ya?"

"Can I use your ID again? I left mine in the room." I made a face and Daisy laughed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm going to staple it to your hand at this rate." She fished the card out of her back pocket and handed it to me before walking away.

I watched her join our fellow Pi Gamma Delta pledges. Eight of us had received bids in October.

I hadn't been sure I even wanted to rush a sorority but was now glad I had. It felt good having a built-in group of friends and plans every night of the week. I was busy—maybe too busy—but I finally felt like I was having the college experience I was meant to have. Even if my new social life was starting to come at the expense of doing my homework.

But being studious and hardworking was exhausting. Letting loose and getting drunk with my new friends was a lot easier than writing a five-hundred-word essay on the misogynistic themes of The Odyssey.

Mom was excited about me being in "her" sorority. Though, I suspected her enthusiasm would have been dampened by my decrease in academic focus. My mom claimed she wanted what was best for me. I, however, knew that what she wanted was to see me live the life she had. She always wanted details. Play-by-play accounts. Keeping her happy was exhausting.

Which is why my father had always been the easy one. Our relationship had been effortless. We used to share knowing looks when Mom gave me one of her well-trodden speeches, barely able to hide our laughter.

After sitting through Mom's lectures, Dad would take me downtown to Carina's Custard and we'd share a hot fudge brownie sundae. It became another thing that was ours .

"She only wants what's best for you," he told me one evening when I was fourteen. I was trying to hold back tears of frustration after being told by Mom I wasn't applying myself enough after receiving a B on my American History test.

"By yelling at me?" I stirred the ice cream until it became a puddle of brown sludge.

Dad put his hand on top of mine. "She loves you. And I do, too. More than anything. Remember that when it seems like she's riding you too hard. No one wants better for you than your mom and me." He squeezed my hand. "Especially me."

He pushed his half-eaten sundae toward me. "Finish mine. You've turned yours into soup," he laughed.

My dad was great at making me feel better. He understood me in a way no one else did. Not Mom. Not my friends.

No one.

I loaded my tray with french fries, mac 'n' cheese, and a slice of Boston cream pie, an extra large cup of coffee—I lived off the stuff—and I made sure to grab a bottle of juice for Daisy. My roommate was holding court at the table, telling the other girls all about our missing-in-action RA.

The sisters of Pi Gamma stood out. They claimed the biggest table and spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear what a great time they were having. Sitting at the Pi Gam table was akin to being in a fishbowl. But for most of my pledge sisters, this was exactly what they had signed up for. I was learning to throw myself into this new existence, though I instinctively wanted to retreat to the shadows.

Southern State University boasted three sororities and three fraternities. Each came with a well-earned reputation. And the men and women in each organization more or less fit into the stereotypes. But every once in a while there was one or two that didn't quite fit. I wondered—and worried—whether I was one of them.

"That's so scary," Phoebe Baker said softly after I sat down. I gave the diminutive girl with long, bright red hair what I hoped was a reassuring smile. She gave me a hesitant smile in return. I didn't know much about Phoebe. I knew she had grown up in a town close by. She was quiet and unassuming. I got the sense she lacked confidence, a lot like I did. The other girls were more outgoing, yet Phoebe couldn't seem to break out of her shell. Even though I felt connected to her because of our similar dispositions, I was more determined than she was to be someone different. She seemed eager to please, and it was this eagerness, so like my own, that at times had me distancing myself from her even as we were meant to be bonding as pledge sisters. She was a reminder of the characteristics I wanted to get rid of.

"I don't think it's anything to be scared of, Pheebs." Daisy's reassurance seemed hesitant, as if she didn't quite believe what she was saying. "Tammy's a pain. I'm sure she's out there somewhere spreading her particular brand of misery on someone else."

Phoebe chewed on her bottom lip. "But what if something happened to her? Is anyone even wondering about it? I was watching a show about Ted Bundy the other night. He preyed on college age girls, too." Phoebe looked around the table, her Bambi eyes wide with barely contained fright.

"Bundy's been dead for years, Phoebe," Daisy countered.

"I'm not saying it's Ted Bundy. Maybe someone like Ted Bundy." Phoebe was practically wringing her hands.

Everyone shared a look. It would be easy to dismiss Phoebe's concerns as paranoia, yet no one did. Because as a woman, simply existing made you vulnerable. The papers were full of stories of missing women— murdered women—the possibility was very, very real.

Daisy met my eyes. "Could that be what happened to her?" she asked me, wanting reassurance.

"I think we should look a little closer to home and maybe go ask Dr. Daniels." Erica Stead, a classic mean girl with a cutting tongue, wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making the rest of the table, except for Phoebe, break into laughter tinged with relief. It was better to imagine a sordid scandal than a murderous stranger in our midst.

"So it is Dr. Daniels she's been seeing!" Daisy shrieked, loving that she had been right.

Erica looked smug. "Yep. Have you checked him out? He's seriously hot for an older guy. And if you're in one of his stat courses, you know how … um … hands on he is with his students."

"Do you think he had something to do with her disappearance?" Daisy asked.

I didn't want to focus on this. I wanted to forget about it and move on. But I couldn't. Because it held my morbid, self-destructive interest.

"There's no way Dr. Daniels was involved with her. He's not that kind of man," Phoebe argued primly, her voice trembling slightly with the effort it must have taken for her to speak up.

"And how do you know what kind of man he is, Pheebs?" Erica asked luridly.

Phoebe drew herself upright. "I have him for Intro to Probability and he's a wonderful teacher. He has ethics and morals and—"

"Until he sees a girl in a short skirt," Daisy muttered.

Blair Atkins, a sweet, pretty sophomore, leaned forward, her skin flushed. "My roommate is in his 8:00 class and the TA taught this morning. Dr. Daniels never showed up. She heard from a couple of girls who seemed to know the professor really well—" Daisy and Erica shared a conspiratorial look, "that Tammy had shown up at his office last Friday making a scene. She was crying and begging to talk to him." Everyone was listening in fascination.

"What could that have been about? Did he dump her?" Daisy pondered. While she wouldn't outright say it, I knew she was enjoying the thought of our RA being kicked to the curb.

"Maybe she's pregnant," Erica added.

"Stop it," Phoebe said, but her voice was too quiet to be heard by anyone else but me.

"Oh my god, can you even imagine? After all the crap she gives us about sleeping around and being careful. What a hypocrite," Daisy said in disgust.

"Ooh, or what if she was threatening to tell his wife?" Tina Spencer, another pledge who also lived in Westwood, added.

"And he decided to shut her up," Erica crowed.

"This isn't a TV movie, guys. This is someone's actual life. You can't go around making baseless claims against Dr. Daniels. It's bordering on slander," Phoebe said in obvious disdain.

The other girls rolled their eyes. Phoebe's moral aversion wouldn't derail them from dissecting the gossip.

"Like I said, Phoebe, I'm sure this will all get figured out," I said placatingly. The other girls' delight was making me uncomfortable. And Phoebe's obvious distress didn't help. She looked like she was going to puke.

"So, who's going to the mixer at the Sigma Kappa Phi house on Saturday?" I asked, talking over their giddy chatter in an attempt to change the subject.

"Abso-freaking-lutely!" Erica exclaimed as she and Daisy pumped their fists. "They have the cutest pledges on campus."

As predicted, the conversation turned completely around, and the whereabouts of Tammy Estep were forgotten.

I stared down at the red "F" on the front of my essay on The Odyssey. I knew I deserved it. I had written it less than two hours before class. That wasn't usually how I operated. In high school I'd spend hours upon hours researching and fine-tuning my work before submitting it. It's how I graduated at the top of my class.

Yet I was finding I was more focused on the things I wanted to do, like going to mixers and staying up late watching all the John Hughes movies with my pledge sisters, and less focused on things I should be doing, like writing my Odyssey essay for Intro to English.

But being this new Jess, the one with friends and an endless social calendar, was a lot more fun than the Jess who sat in her room every weekend planning out her future.

I enjoyed these new impulses, even if they threatened to drown me. And I would try not to feel guilty for laughing and drinking with my hallmates until the early hours, enjoying the momentary freedom until another uptight upperclassman moved in to replace MIA Tammy as our new resident advisor.

I shoved the essay into my bag, refusing to look at it any longer. I'd turn things around. I always did.

A bright pink tennis ball bounced off my shoe, landing with a thud at my feet. I looked up in annoyance, ready to give the jerk a piece of my mind.

I was surprised to find a little girl who looked about Lindsey's age, running toward me, her white-blonde hair in a messy braid down her back.

"I'm sorry," her high-pitched voice called out.

I leaned down and picked up the ball, holding it out for her.

"It's okay. Here you go." The little girl took it with a shy smile.

"I'm not supposed to throw it so hard. My dad says I might hit someone." She cradled the ball close to her chest, looking over her shoulder toward Roosevelt Hall and a man standing with a pretty woman holding a baby.

"Well, your dad's right, but it's okay. You didn't even hit me," I assured her.

"Good, because I really don't want to get in trouble," she said, her lower lip jutting out.

"It'll be our secret." I gave her a wink and she giggled before running back to her parents.

I watched her for a moment before recognition hit me.

Dr. Daniels lifted the little girl into the air and swung her around. I could hear her laughter. It sounded like innocence and joy. It made my heart clench painfully.

He kissed her on the cheek and I could see the girl clinging to his neck. It reminded me so much of my dad and me. Down to the way Dr. Daniels hefted his daughter onto his shoulders as she squealed in terrified delight, gripping his hands so she wouldn't fall.

Dr. Daniels kissed his wife tenderly before turning his affections to the baby, no more than a year old, in her arms.

They were the picture of a perfect, happy family.

They could be my family.

It made me want to cry.

The music was blaring from the three massive speakers someone had stacked in the corner of the Sigma Kap house. The theme was deserted island so I was surrounded by a sea of grass skirts and coconut bras—even on some of the guys.

The room erupted into cheers as four of my sisters arrived. They had gone all out for the theme, making a cardboard replica of the S.S. Minnow from the TV show Gilligan's Island. The four of them walked in a single file, holding the massive boat up with string over their shoulders, as the fraternity brothers hooted and hollered.

I pulled at the white button-down shirt I had tied at my navel. It hung open, revealing my Hawaiian print bikini top. The cutoff jean shorts I had borrowed from Daisy were a size too small and barely covered my ass. I tried not to feel self-conscious as I danced awkwardly while downing the awful beer as quickly as I could. I plastered a smile on my face that felt as fake as the bright flowers draped around my neck.

Everyone around me was wasted and I was trying to get to the same state. But it was tough when the beer tasted awful.

I had lost track of my pledge sisters about five minutes after arriving. I caught a glimpse of Daisy now and then, but she was hanging on a different guy every time. I needed to interject myself with some of that wild abandon.

I had never been a party girl like Daisy; I never had the time to be. Not with all the extra classes Mom had insisted on, and the extracurricular activities I had participated in. My life before now had been filled with winning and achieving, not partying. Not having a life. I had missed out on so much that I was determined to make up for lost time. I wanted friends. I wanted to go to parties. I wanted to be the kind of girl that was always having a great time.

I closed my eyes and swayed to the music. I probably looked ridiculous, but at that moment I didn't care. My mind was pleasantly fuzzy, which I craved. Being stuck in my own head was the last place I wanted to be.

I felt an uncontrollable shiver. A feeling of being observed made it impossible to lose myself in the moment.

I opened my eyes, looking around, wondering what sleazeball was playing voyeur.

A figure on the opposite side of the room caught my attention for no other reason than she seemed completely out of place. Not dancing. Not moving. Just standing there, her frizzy, overly permed brown hair stuck to the side of her head as if it were wet.

The strobe lights made it hard to see her properly. Her features were jarring in the flashing glare.

Tammy?

My breath caught in my throat. My palms went clammy.

I blinked and she disappeared.

I knew it wasn't real. An alcohol-induced figment of my overwrought imagination. I was letting the conversation with my pledge sisters earlier in the week get to me. Their paranoia seemed to be contagious.

I scrunched my eyes closed again, terrified to leave them open.

A few minutes later I felt the warmth of someone pressing close to me. I opened my eyes to find a cute guy with an attractive toothy grin dancing beside me. He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear lobe. "This is probably going to sound like a line, but can I join you?"

I couldn't tell him how much I welcomed his distraction. Even if he was over the top with his forwardness. The hair was still raised on my arms. The ever-present tingle on the back of my neck hadn't gone away.

The old Jess wanted to leave. To go back to the dorm and bury herself under the covers. Instead, new Jess gave him a coy smile and turned her back, glancing at the hot boy over her shoulder as I wiggled and shook the parts of me I knew he was staring at.

In my experience good-looking guys, young or old, were only ever after one thing. And they used their looks and easy smiles to make the rest of us go along with just about anything. My insides buzzed with bitter-tinged excitement.

"You can tell me to get lost if you want. But I really hope you don't," he shouted to be heard over the music.

I turned around, moving against him. His eyes widened, his grin broadening. He put his hands on my waist, his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh, making me shiver.

He was ridiculously attractive in a way that should make me suspicious. He was shirtless with a cheap Hawaiian lei around his neck and Bermuda shorts that hung low on his narrow hips. His longish hair was brown with blonde streaks that definitely weren't natural. It kept falling in his eyes, which gave him an adorable boy-next-door appeal.

I took another sip of beer, trying not to shudder at the taste.

Mr. Cutie stopped dancing and peered into my cup, blanching. "Who gave you the piss water to drink? Hot girls are supposed to be given the good stuff."

"Maybe the person who gave this to me didn't think I was hot."

The guy looked at me as if I had grown a second head, his hands still warm on the skin at my waist. "I may be slightly drunk, but my eyes still work." He took the cup from me, left it on the table pushed against the wall and took my hand. "Come on, I've got the good shit upstairs."

I tugged out of his grip, my feigned confidence melting away as nerves set in. "Um, maybe we should stay down here."

"I promise to be a perfect gentleman. The perfect gentleman." He crossed his heart with his finger. "It's just a crime for a girl that looks like you to be drinking the swill we reserve for the rest of the masses."

I laughed, allowing myself to be flattered. "So you're a brother at Sigma Kap?" I asked him.

"Not yet. I'm only a lowly pledge," he answered.

"Me too." And then I gave him a smile. A real one this time. He was cute and more than a little charismatic. There was something about him that made me want to be around him. Some people you meet, you feel that instant spark. This guy was one of those people.

"Figured you were one of the Pi Gamma girls." He seemed proud of his deduction work.

"We'll just call you Sherlock," I joked, shoving his arm.

He held out his hand again. "So can we go get something better to drink?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment. He seemed like the perfect distraction right now. I put my hand in his and let him lead me toward the stairs, taking one last look around at the drunken party before we left.

Upstairs, we headed down a long, barely lit hallway. He pushed open the last door on the right to reveal a messy dorm room that stank of stale beer and body odor. Dirty clothes littered the floor and empty beer cans lined the window sill. The room was bigger than mine, with two wooden beds lofted to allow for the desks to fit underneath.

The guy cringed as he watched me take in my surroundings. "It's not my room. I don't live like a total pig." I noted that he purposefully kept the door open, which I appreciated.

"Whose room is it then?"

"One of the brothers said the pledges could store their booze in here. I live over at Frankfurt Hall," he explained, referring to one of the other freshman dormitories. "Just give me a second to get us a decent drink."

I watched him pull out a see-through bottle of clear liquid with gold flecks on the bottom.

"Goldschl?ger, huh? Someone's feelin' fancy," I chuckled.

The guy laughed. "I got this on bid day. I've been saving it to share with the right person."

I rolled my eyes. "Man, you're smooth. Do these lines ever work?"

His grin grew wider and my stomach fluttered. "All the time." Then he winked at me and my knees threatened to buckle.

While he prepared our drinks, I made my way over to the two-seater sofa beneath the window. I wasn't sure I wanted to sit on it, but I didn't want to stand around either. I hesitated, not sure what to do.

"I think it's safe to sit. There's nothing toxic on the cushions that I'm aware of," he joked, handing me my drink then pushing the piles of paper and empty chip bags onto the floor with the rest of the trash.

"I'm not sure I believe you," I muttered, though I sat down beside him anyway.

The music made the floor shake and I felt the vibrations throughout my body. I took a drink of the cinnamon schnapps. It was better than the warm beer, but still kind of gross. I forced myself to drink most of it in one gulp.

"Whoa, slow down," he chuckled, filling my cup again.

I sheepishly took a tiny sip. "Sorry. It's nice drinking something that doesn't taste like it was left in the sun for four days, ya know."

"I get it. By all means, drink up, then." He took a long drink himself. "So, are you having fun?" he asked me, angling his body a little closer. Our knees brushed together as I moved toward him. My eyes lingered on his toned torso, my skin heating.

"Tonight, or at college?"

"Tonight is what matters." His voice dropped seductively. He was really laying it on thick. I raised an eyebrow and he grimaced. "Sorry, the lines keep coming. It's like an affliction. Call it badflirtingitis. "

I laughed. I couldn't help it. He was ridiculous, but sweet, and I found myself relaxing in his presence. He seemed pleased with himself, his expression delighted.

"The party's okay, I guess," I answered noncommittally.

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "That's a lie."

I took another drink. "Okay, this whole scene is definitely not my thing. But I promised myself I was going to let loose more now that I'm in college. And if I'm going to be a Pi Gam, I need to embrace my inner party girl."

He was watching me intently as if he could see directly inside me. It was disconcerting, but also strangely comforting. I felt like maybe I could be open with this guy I didn't know. This stranger with brown eyes and bleach-streaked hair like some kind of NSYNC reject.

"The Pi Gamma Delta ladies definitely like to get their party on," he observed.

"Yes, they do," I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I sensing you're less than thrilled with your new sisters?" he asked.

"Not at all, I love being a Pi Gam," I objected.

The cute guy gave me an I-don't-believe-you look.

"Okay, so maybe it's hard keeping up with all the partying. My grades clearly don't like sharing the spotlight with my social life," I found myself admitting.

He leaned in closer. So close I could feel the heat of him. "Then why do it at all?"

"Because what else is a girl like me supposed to do?" I asked with a hint of sarcasm, thinking about my mom and all of her expectations.

"Well, if you don't want to do it, then don't. You can't live your whole life worrying about what everyone else wants you to do. You'll make yourself miserable." He pushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, but made no move to touch me further.

I wanted him to touch me, though. To make me forget. To make me stop thinking about everything.

Just for a little while.

"Sage advice, Mr. Frat Guy." I smirked and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I may be a frat guy, but I'm a smart frat guy. Just ask my mom," he quipped. He leaned back on the couch and slung an arm over my shoulder. "I say, rather than brave more bad music and crappy beer, we stay up here with this nice bottle of Goldschl?ger. I think the new episode of South Park is on."

"Sounds perfect," I agreed, leaning into him and enjoying the feel of his arm pressed against me.

We spent the next couple of hours watching TV and drinking. I was definitely on my way to being drunk by the time I suggested it was time to call it a night.

"Sure. I have a feeling Brad is going to want his room back before too long anyway," he said, grabbing his almost-empty bottle of liquor and pulling me to my feet. "I'll walk you home if that's cool."

I nodded, appreciating the offer, especially with the echo of ever-watchful eyes still dancing over my skin.

I made a cursory effort to look for Daisy as we left the frat house, but she was nowhere to be found. Figuring I'd see her back at our room, I followed the guy I had spent several enjoyable hours with out onto the street. He took my hand, as though we were walking home from a date.

It felt nice. I walked with him, hand in hand, pretending, perhaps hoping, this is how my life was meant to be.

The guy called out greetings to people as we passed. It seemed he knew a lot of people. I also knew that walking together would be a topic of conversation. I had moved from one small community to another and the basics were the same. My business was everyone's business.

We headed down the path that led to Westwood Hall. I noticed a car parked beneath a burned-out streetlight. It sat in shadow, the two people inside barely discernible, but I recognized the girl's bright red hair. I watched her head dip down out of sight and I stopped abruptly, wondering what was going on.

"What is it?" the guy beside me asked, following my gaze.

"I think that's one of my pledge sisters, Phoebe Baker." There was a man in the driver's seat. I couldn't quite make him out, but could tell he was much older. Was it her dad? "What's she doing?"

If I hadn't glanced at Mr. Cute at that moment, I would have missed the imperceptible change in his expression. Shock and something like anger flashed across his face.

"Do you know her?" I asked pointedly.

"I did." He sounded cryptic. He laughed, though less naturally than before. "We went to high school together." I knew there was more to the story, but I didn't know him and it felt rude to pry, even if I really wanted to. He cleared his throat and looked back at me. "The Phoebe I knew wasn't the kind of girl to do what is definitely happening in that car."

Just then the man turned and I could finally make him out through the fogged glass. It was Dr. Daniels.

I watched as he pulled Phoebe toward him, kissing her deeply.

"She's obviously changed a lot since high school." His eyes darkened. "But, let's not stand here and watch them like a couple of perverts." He took my arm and steered me back toward my dorm.

"I can't believe that's Phoebe. She hates parties and drinking. She didn't even want to come out tonight. There's no way she's …" I let my words die off, because clearly she was doing exactly what I thought she'd never do. Just like Tammy.

He shrugged, though his jaw tightened. "Everyone has their secrets."

We stopped as we reached the door. I was still trying to look back at the car and my pledge sister, hoping like hell we were wrong about what was going on. Dr. Daniels was a teacher. And he was married. He was a father.

Not Phoebe. Doesn't she know better?

I felt betrayed. Because the woman I was getting to know, whom I thought I had a clear read on, was the total opposite of who I thought she was.

Or perhaps, it made an uncomfortable sense that the person with so little confidence, who had trouble voicing her opinions, was exactly the kind of girl that would take up with her married professor.

I thought of that adorable little girl I had seen earlier with her bright pink tennis ball and sweet laugh. I remembered the adoration in her eyes as she looked up at her dad, the same man now making out with his student in front of the freshmen dorms.

The devastation of it made me want to sob.

For a moment I saw myself in that little girl and I despaired at the thought of her family falling apart.

"You'd better go inside. It's getting late and there are a lot of weirdos roaming around." He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering against my skin. Feeling unfettered and slightly out of control, I turned my face and his mouth met mine.

At the feel of his lips, I forgot about Phoebe. I forgot about everything. My mind became a blank page and I was lost in feeling.

It was incredible.

His hands made their way to the back of my head as his fingers tangled in my hair. Our kiss deepened, and I knew that if I were Daisy, or any other wild and free freshman girl, I would have invited him up to my room. I would let whatever this was to progress to a place neither of us could stop.

But I wasn't Daisy.

And as much as I was forcing a new Jess into existence, the old Jess was still there, whispering judgments in my ear.

So, I let myself get lost in the kiss for only a few moments longer, not letting it go any further.

"You should go," I told him after finally pulling away.

"Are you sure?" His eyes were slightly unfocused, his nose brushing mine. I nodded and he stepped back.

"Sleep tight," he said playfully, running his thumb along my bottom lip. "Don't let the bedbugs bite."

I laughed. "You're such a dork."

"I may be a dork, but you're going to see me again," he predicted, walking backward down the path, away from my dorm.

He was right, I would see him again. I wanted to see him again.

But it was only after he left that I realized he never told me his name.