True Intentions (25 page)

Hi, Mom. Did you know Sam works for Satan!

She'd probably think Mallory photoshopped the picture of them locking tongues on the park bench. Plus, Sam and I were supposed to be dating
after
I came back from spring break,
not before.
I don't even want to consider how my mother would handle the whole truth about Sam going to Chicago. It's not in my best interest to come clean. Not now . . . not ever.

Even my poor grandparents liked Sam.

Sam won everyone over with his Venus flytrap personality—lured them in, then went for the kill.

I have become very cautious, even more so with Sam out of the picture. Since the breakup, I go out only during the day, and only to public areas. I have even resorted to carrying mace in my purse, remembering only humans can hurt me as long as retain my virgin status—which is extremely easy to do with Sam out of my life. Of course, Satan's angels can always set me up like Matthew did with Walter.

Sara interrupts my mental trip down memory lane. "So, what stores do you want to hit?" she asks, calling my attention back to the present. We're driving outside L.A.

looking for shopping centers.

"I don't care. Which ones do you wanna go to?

"Well, I definitely want to check out this new outlet store on Berkley Avenue. I heard it has tons of adorable clothes and pretty cheap too. You know it's hard to dress at Rim of the World on a principal's salary."

I laugh. Leave it to Sara to try to compete with the L.A. Barbies at our school.

At least she keeps my sense of humor alive during this difficult time.

"That's fine. I need a few new clothes anyways."

"I've been wondering. Are you losing weight?" Sara asks, completely changing the subject without any subtlety.

I take my eyes off the road and glance in her direction. I'm shocked.

She turns her face and pretends to be looking at something out the window.

"I didn't want to intrude or make you uncomfortable, but I can tell your pants are looking sort of baggy," she quickly adds.

I shrug.

"Yeah, I have lost a little weight since moving here. I guess I haven't been eating enough Chicago hot dogs to keep up my chubby physique," I say sarcastically. I'm not about to tell her a good portion of my weight loss has occurred in the last two weeks.

It's hard to have an appetite when you feel nauseated all the time.

"Then you definitely need new clothes!" Sara exclaims.

I smile halfheartedly, hoping I won't go back to thinking about Sam. I continuously wonder what he's doing or if Satan 'taken care of him'.

Is that why he's no longer at school?

That thought is unbearable. Even though I hate him with every cell in my body, I don't want him destroyed because of me. Even if he did betray me with Mallory, he still saved me from Walter
—twice
.

I'll never forget that.

We pull onto Berkley Avenue, and Sara looks out for the store. My job: keeping us alive. It's Saturday, and tons of people are out shopping, which scares me. I'm still paranoid about driving on busy roads since the car accident. I would have insisted Sara drive, but her older Mustang is at the dealer's repair shop. It seems like that thing is always having problems with one thing or another.

"Over there," Sara screeches, excitement building in her voice. She frantically leans over me pointing to the store ahead on our left. It's in the back of the shopping plaza.

"Got it," I reply, pushing her aside while I eye the traffic up ahead. I quickly change lanes, praying I can get us to the store in one piece. By an act of God, we make it into the left turn lane.

We park in the rear corner of the parking lot since there aren't any other spots available.

Great, this store is going to be packed,
I think to myself.

I really hadn't been in the mood for shopping to start with, but Sara had been pretty insistent, and I did need to get my mind off things like Sam Perry.

Once inside the store, called Basement Bargains, Sara's eyes light up like a Christmas tree.

"How about we split up for a while? This store is huge!"

"Sounds good." I'm relieved to have some time alone. "How about you meet me at the registers in an hour, or you can text me if you're done before then?"

"Great. Good luck. Remember to try stuff on. It might be an irregular size or something. You never know with these discount stores," she says, giggling. She rushes off toward the shoe department.

I look around aimlessly at all the aisles. Sara is right, this store is huge. I double-check the time on my watch and notice my skin. The artificial lighting makes me look pale, which doesn't do anything to boost my self-confidence. I roll my eyes then walk past the home décor and over to the junior's section, so I can start my search for new clothes. The racks seem endless.

Where do I begin?

I walk around without purpose for ten minutes then finally decide to start in the jean's and pant's area. Of course there are at least six rows of junior-sized jeans. I flip through the countless garment racks. None of the jeans are grabbing my attention. This place has tons of clothes, all really cute. I just can't find anything I want to buy. I've always felt guilty spending money, especially since I don't have a job. I know my dad had life insurance, and we're okay financially for now. Yet I can't justify spending my dad's
death money
on clothing. I feel this money was the dollar symbol of what his life had been worth.

"Don't you still owe me a beer," a voice says from a distance.

I don't look up.

"So . . . you don't want to pay up, huh?" the voice continues, closer this time.

I raise my eyes from the clothing rack just enough to see a young guy wearing an L.A. Dodgers baseball cap smiling at me from the center aisle. He is walking in my direction. Blond curls hang out the bottom and sides of the hat.

It's one of the cute guys from the Cub game. The one I spilled pop all over.

Crap . . . what was his name?

He is easily making his way through the maze of clothing toward my aisle.

"Hi," is all I can conjure up the courage to say.

"Hi. Please forgive me. For the life of me, I can't remember you name. Is it Angie?

"

"Ava," I correct him. "You're forgiven, because I forgot yours too."

"No worries, it's William."

Now that he is up close, I remember how good looking he is. His red, cotton Tshirt with fraternity symbols fits tightly around his toned muscles.

That's right; he's in a fraternity at UCLA.

"I can't believe you actually remember me." I admit.

"How can I forget
you
?" He smiles, using the same, playful smirk I remember from Chicago.

His smile is breathtaking.

"I wouldn't forget someone who still owes me a beer!"

I burst out laughing. I know he's being completely sarcastic, but it's still a good response. I'll give him that. Plus, laughing feels unbelievably good. I haven't done much of it since the recent breakup.

"So, what brings you down the mountain these days?"

"Girl time . . . and shopping," I say

"Girl time, huh? Is that what you call it when you're by yourself?" he asks, looking around the racks.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I immediately feel guilty like I'm cheating on Sam.

I'm not with Sam anymore,
I remind myself.

"My friend Sara is around here someplace. We separated 'cause she needs to cover more shopping ground. So . . . what are you doing here?"

"My buds, Theo and Vladimir, and I are doing a little shopping ourselves. I believe you met Theo at the Dodger game."

"You mean
Cub
game."

He grins sheepishly.

"I stand corrected," he says, continuing to flash his brilliant smile.

I feel strangely at ease with him.

"So, since you're down the mountain,
on my turf
, how about tagging along tonight and going to a party with us?"

"Oh. I don't really think—"

"We'd love to!"

It's Sara's ecstatic voice jumping into our conversation.

I turn around, unsure how long she has been standing there. I narrow my eyes and bite my lower lip.

Did she just commit us to something without discussing it with me first?

She makes eye contact with William. "I'm Sara, by the way. Since, we haven't been formally introduced." She glares at me, giving the I-can't-believe-you-didn't-introduce-me-to-a-hot-guy look.

Sara shakes William's hand and smiles.

"Nice to meet you Sara, I'm William. Ava and I know each other from a recent
Dodger
game." He winks at me. "Me and the guys would
love
if you two would hang out with us tonight. How about we all meet outside in about thirty minutes, and we'll grab a bite to eat? It's
my
treat
."
His tone is soft and very polite. His wide, dark brown eyes sparkle in the florescent lights of the store, causing me to forget about my
not going out
after dark
rule
.

"Uh, sure." I feel brain-washed.

He smiles crookedly at me and then looks at Sara. "See you in thirty."

We both stare in awe as he turns and walks away. As soon as he is out of sight, I turn and glare at her.

"Are you insane?" I ask.

"I wasn't about to let you tell some gorgeous guy that we wouldn't or
couldn't
hang out with him."

"Sara, I barely know him!"

She waves her finger in the air, reminding me of a teacher.

"And how do you get to know someone, unless you hang out."

I roll my eyes in response.

She gives me a frown, her face apologetic.

I shrug and smile.

She mirrors my expression, except her smile is more mischievous like she was just caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

She has a point, but my instincts tell me it's way too soon. Should I be going to a party with strangers at night without a dark angel—excuse me,
cheating demon—
for protection?

It's pretty bad when you make your own, strict rules for safety. Am I sixteen or sixty?

I stare at the clothing rack again, running different justifications through my mind. After all, it's a party with tons of people. I'll be with Sara. I have my mace.

Finally, I think about the most appealing factor: it's a Saturday night, and a hot guy just asked me to hang out.

What's the worst that could happen?

Chapter Thirty-Two - Party

I anxiously call my mom from the store. She is more than willing to let me hang out with Sara and "some of Sara's old friends."

Sara's dad needs a little more persuasion. Being a single father, he's protective of his only daughter. But Sara lays on the charm, and her dad caves. One stipulation, be home by 1:00 a.m.—no exceptions. He promised to send every state, county, and city law enforcement officer within California after our butts if he didn't see the whites of our eyes by then.

I'm a little scared of Mr. Roark, so I'm going to have Sara home at 12:30 a.m.—

just to be safe.

We follow William, Theo, and Vladimir in their black HUMMER down the interstate; my older Jeep struggles to keep up with their massive vehicle. UCLA is about thirty or forty minutes from San Bernardino.

Sara can't stop talking. "How come you never told me you met those guys before?" she sneers, her nose crinkling the way it always does when she's annoyed.

"I honestly forgot Sara. It is not like I thought I'd run into William or Theo again."

She glares at me with suspicion as if I'm holding out on her.

"Seriously, Sara . . . I had no clue, promise."

I resemble a puppy begging at the Humane Society.

She smiles then says, "I just can't believe we are
actually
going to hang out with college guys. Can you believe it? I wonder if Theo is single."

"What would Jack think about it?" I ask. After all, prom is next weekend, and she's had a crush on Jack forever.

"We're only going to prom together. It's not like we're an official couple or anything. He has no right to get mad."

"So you wouldn't be mad if he was going to a party with college girls?"

"I'd be utterly pissed, but that's totally different," she jokes.

"Just don't do anything stupid, okay?" I beg.

"I'll be a complete angel, promise!"

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," I mutter in a voice too low for her to hear.

* * * * *

We arrive at some large, older house. By the looks of the home's poor condition, and the signs in the front yard, I'm confident it's a frat house. According to William, tonight's party is at a different fraternity, not his. But he assured us they're like a

"brother" fraternity, so it's all good.

After a few trips around the block we find a parking spot. The bad news: I have to parallel park. I notice lots of guys and girls sitting on the porch socializing. Everyone is holding a red or blue plastic cup.

Unable to fit into the tight parking spot, I reluctantly park my Jeep on a side street far away their HUMMER, and Sara and I follow our three gorgeous guys inside the front door of the fraternity house.

"Will, Vlad, Theo, what's up?" a young guy dressed as an Indian chief yells out from an adjacent room. He salutes us with some Indian or fraternity sign.

"Nice catch, who are the hot
la
dies!" he says, snickering. He winks.

"Off limits," William says without looking in our direction.

"Damn!"

William grabs my hand. "Follow me."

Sara and I make eye contact and then follow him, not for one second questioning his intent or where he is taking us. We pass several crowds, all College-age.

William leads us to the kitchen. A kegorator and bar sit where a kitchen table would be normally. Chili lights are strung along the worn, kitchen cabinets. The countertop is made of different, brightly colored, Mexican tiles. The walls are a dull, burnt orange, much different from the dull white throughout the rest of the house.