Breakable

I couldn’t stop thinking about how to get Jacqueline Wallace back into the circle of my arms, come hell or high water. I was all too familiar with both.

Monday morning, I was nursing a slight hangover and a dampened outlook. Every time I saw Charles, I felt guilty. Every time I thought of Jacqueline, I felt more so. She hadn’t emailed me over the weekend. I had what felt like a premonition about her figuring out that I was Landon, and told myself, again, that I had to put a stop to this. Now.

She dropped on to the edge of the seat next to me.

I was so thrown that I didn’t say anything. Just stared.

‘Hey,’ she said, knocking me from my stupor. Fearing my earlier gut feeling was about to go down, I focused on the subtle smile teasing the edge of her mouth.

‘Hey,’ I returned, opening my textbook to shield the sketch I was working on.

‘So, it just occurred to me that I don’t remember your name from the other night.’ She was nervous. Not angry. Nervous. ‘Too many margaritas, I guess.’

Here’s your chance. Sitting in economics class – what better place to clear up the … mix-up about your name.

I stared into her big blue eyes and said, ‘It’s Lucas. And I don’t think I gave it.’

Dammit.

Heller came slamming and cursing through the door down by the podium, and Jacqueline’s smile grew a little wider. ‘So … you, um, called me Jackie, before?’ she said. ‘I actually go by Jacqueline. Now.’

I called her Jackie? When … Oh. That night. ‘Okay,’ I answered.

‘Nice to meet you, Lucas.’ She smiled again before hurrying to her seat while Heller was arranging his notes.

She didn’t turn to look at me the entire lecture, though she seemed distracted – given the way she squirmed in her seat, unless she was talking to the guy next to her. They both laughed softly a couple of times, and I couldn’t help smiling in response. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her laugh – but I was wired to her now. I felt the sound of her laughter all the way to my boots and back. I wanted to make her laugh – something Landon had undoubtedly done.

As absurd as it was to be envious of myself, I was. She responded to Landon’s teasing emails with teasing of her own. When he told her he was an engineering student, she’d replied, No wonder you seem so brainy. Flirtatious words to direct at a tutor. Careful, possibly innocuous words … but flirtatious in context.

Dammit. I was jealous of Landon. Of all the stupid-ass reactions I could have right now, that was the most ludicrous.

At the end of class, she shot from her seat and rushed out the door before I could even get my backpack loaded. Some primitive, predatory impulse urged me to leap up and chase her out the door, as if that would be the most sensible reflex to her cut-and-run exit. I consciously slowed the process of sliding my texts and notebooks into the pack, stunned.

She was driving me crazy. And I was loving it. Goddamn, I was in trouble.

I’d agreed to take a couple of hours of Ron’s shift so he could meet with an architecture professor who only had office hours once a week. I also had a parking-enforcement shift this afternoon – after the group tutoring session and after my two-hour team project course. I wouldn’t have time to study until after ten p.m. This day, with the singular exception of Jacqueline initiating that one-minute conversation this morning, was going to suck.

I glanced at my phone in between orders. Half an hour to go, and we were busy. Both canisters were running low. As soon as there was a break in the line, I closed my register. Just in time, too – because a group of students materialized and joined Eve’s line.

‘Eve – I’m going to the back to get coffee. It’s low.’

‘Grab me a bottle of vodka while you’re at it,’ she replied. Eve was grouchier when we were busy. Which was about ninety per cent of the time.

‘Grab one for me, too, Lucas!’ The mechanical-engineering admin was next in line. Dark-skinned and white-haired, Vickie Payton was an organizational wizard for professors, a valuable source of campus information for students, and a shoulder to cry on for everyone.

‘Little early in the day, isn’t it, Mrs Payton?’ I chuckled, backing through the door.

‘Spring registration,’ she answered with a smirk. ‘Oy vey.’

‘Ah.’ I winked at her. ‘Two vodkas and one bag of Kenyan, coming right up.’

‘I wish,’ Eve mumbled, taking Mrs Payton’s order.

I brought the bag out and sliced it open. The line had grown, but Eve – whose apathy towards people in general didn’t hinder her proficiency, luckily – had everything under control. Unthinkingly, I scanned the line, searching for Jacqueline. During the two weeks she’d missed class, looking for her on campus had become ingrained – something I did whenever I entered a room where she might have the smallest possibility of being.

The likelihood of her showing up here was better than most. Despite that fact, I was still mystified at the sight of her. My eyes swept over her, slowly, devouring every detail as if she were a last meal that I wanted to simultaneously consume wholly and savour.

She was with her friend, again, and that friend was watching me. Jacqueline was decisively not watching me. But they were talking, animatedly, and Jacqueline was blushing so hard I could see the blotchy pink of her cheeks from a dozen feet away. With effort, I turned to make the coffee, but the hairs on my arms stood up. My entire body was aware of her eyes on me.