Just As Much Read online

  Just as Much

  Noelle R. Henry

  Contents

  First Impressions

  Why Do They Assign Group Projects?

  Dinner and a Deal

  Friend Zone

  Man-Whore

  Reality Kicks In

  After Care

  “Slut” Shaming

  The Invention of the Speech

  Home Life

  Big Mouth

  Winter Break

  Gifts

  Moving In

  Reality Checks

  Warm Bodies

  Couchgate

  Things Change

  Vodka Tonic- Felicity

  Vodka Tonic-Damian

  Hangovers

  Bending the Rules

  Reality Hits

  A Real Date

  Limits

  The Morning After

  Public Display of Affection

  Summer Loving

  Summer Struggles

  Falling For You-Damian

  Falling For You-Felicity

  Locked Doors

  Lock and Key

  Apartment Living

  Finances

  Opposite Schedules

  Summer’s End

  All the Things That Hurt

  Unlocked

  Break Down

  His Break Down

  Some Sort of Plan

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  This book is dedicated to my dearest friends, old and new, who encouraged me to write from my heart instead of my head.

  First Impressions

  For the record, I hated Damian the moment I met him.

  Coffee. I need coffee before I go and do this. Do I have enough money in my account? I should. I grab a sandwich and a coffee with too many sugars and look at my course schedule. I really don’t want to meet with my professors this afternoon—but they should probably be warned that a giant black lab was going to be in their classroom come Monday morning.

  Zeke and I just played fetch in the quad. I feel sorry for making him work so much today, so I decide to let him be a puppy and enjoy the sunshine, neglecting to put his vest back on. It still amazes me, how Zeke transforms from an obedient service dog to a puppy just with the removal of his vest. I look down at him and watch as he tries to not react to the squirrel just yards away on the quad. Even as an off-duty pup, he still tries his best to behave.

  “Well, Zeke we have six professors to are you ready to charm them?” I say patting his head. He looks up at me, perking his ears.

  I am new, this is only my fifth day on campus. I had to come early with the freshmen—even though I have junior standing I still have to attend everything at orientation. But, I’ll admit that I am happy to get settled at the upper-classmen dorms before most of them get here. I haven’t made any friends yet, except for those “Ohh...A dog! I love dogs!” people. And those people are slightly annoying, to be honest. I swear I know everyone’s stories about their dogs.

  Service dogs are like children in that way, everyone has an opinion on how dogs should be treated, and everyone has a story to tell about their dogs the moment they see Zeke and I walk toward them in a mall, the sidewalk, at the pharmacy. It always amazes me how much people are willing to share to a total stranger. I am not used to being someone people wanted to talk to, not really. My sister and brother-in-law basically left me to my own design, unless of course, I needed them for my health.

  But now I am on my own completely—which is why I worked so hard to get Zeke. I have always felt like my sister’s burden. My sister calls me my parent’s oops. My mother was forty-two when she got pregnant with me, my sister was eighteen. When my parents died, I was only nine. Our grandmother took me in and raised me until she couldn’t anymore. Then I was sent to live with my sister, Melody, and her husband, Daniel. The newlyweds were not enthused at having a twelve-year-old in their custody, particularly after I was diagnosed with a seizure disorder less than two years later.

  When I got my inheritance from Grandma Gladys, I decided it was time to buy some independence. Melody flipped out when I said I wanted to use so much money on a service dog. But then again, it wasn’t her decision.

  “You have college to think about,” she said rolling her eyes.

  “I have mom and dad’s funds to help with loans later. I can do this. I need this. Nan would have wanted this, and you know it,” I said, and she wasn’t going to argue with me. I saw the relief in her eyes when I told her I needed to live alone.

  I knew I wasn’t wanted, by Daniel especially.

  I am peacefully eating my turkey sandwich when Zeke suddenly pulls on my arm, almost yanking me into one of the outdoor dining sets trying to get to someone in the distance. I should have put the vest back on.

  “Zeke!” I tug at him. “Zeke, what the hell?!” Coffee spills all over me and the table as Zeke ran right to a guy standing close to our table. He starts to pet him.

  “Please don’t pet him!” I sigh. “It only encourages the behavior.” He holds his hands up as if he were a thief and I was a cop. I look down at my shirt and skirt and of course they were covered in coffee. I look up and he is covered as well.

  “I am so sorry, he is supposed to be more behaved than this,” I apologize to him.

  “Zeke! You know better!” I say pulling him back to the table.

  “Here, let me help,” he says grabbing napkins and wiping off the table.

  “Thank you,” I say as we both clean up the mess. He sits across from me after we finish, and I throw away my empty cup.

  “Please, have a seat,” I say sarcastically sitting down to my sandwich. That coffee was four bucks of caffeine that I really could have used. I don’t want to sit here and make small talk, I am going to be doing that all day. However, this guy doesn’t seem to care about that.

  “I would love to,” he says taking a bite from his own sandwich and smiling as he places his feet on the chair next to me.

  “Oh, I’m Damian, and you are?” he says holding out his hand. He looks like a bro. His outfit probably cost more than my entire wardrobe at this point and he comes off as entitled, and, again, I don’t want to talk to him. Or anyone for that matter. But particularly guys who think they are God’s gift to women. I love avoiding those.

  “Not interested,” I say, hoping he would get the hint.

  “Ouch are you this rude to all of the guys?” he asks, his eyes shining with humor.

  “In short? Yes,” I say dapping at the coffee that was staining one of my three skirts.

  “So, you’re a freshman?” he asks me.

  “No, junior transfer. I just moved in last week,” I say uncomfortably. Who is this guy?

  “Hmmm…to the dorms?” he says taking another bite.

  “Yea? Oberton,” I say in an unenthused tone, but he doesn’t seem to take the hint.

  “Wow, with Zeke here? Mom and Dad must have paid big bucks to allow that to happen,” he says. This could seriously be one of the most asinine men I have ever met.

  “Wow, aren’t we the judgmental type?” I say, taking a bite from my sandwich.

  “So, I’m right?” he says with a cocky smile.

  “Well, I couldn’t bring the yacht,” I snide back sarcastically. He laughs. I shake my head looking at his overpriced shoes and designer watch. He has no room to be talking to me this way. I am a twenty-year-old, on her own, paying for everything I have. Mel and Daniel only cover medical bills. I used all my grandmother’s inheritance on Zeke and coming here, I am flat broke at this point. I already have two jobs lined up just to make sure I have something for incidentals: books and school fees. Food I can get in the dining hall.

  “I can’t believe the school let you h
ave a dog. Did your parents get you a note or something?” he asks.

  “Actually, it is kind of hard for Mom or Dad to do anything, considering they passed away years ago, but kudos to you,” I say as I took my last bite and start to get up.

  “Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he says straightening up, “I was just being a dick. I am sorry.” He looks almost genuine. I see a spark of something in his eyes. Elitist mannerism? Politeness? Guilt?

  “You don’t even know me, and I didn’t even initiate this conversation, or ask you to sit with me, or expect to be judged,” I say, “Especially from someone wearing two-hundred-dollar shoes and a five-hundred-dollar watch.”

  “Do over? Can I get a do over? I didn’t mean to offend you within thirty seconds of knowing you,” he asks earnestly. I look at him. A strong boy with an athletic build. He’s taller than me, significantly, which is saying something, and his bright green eyes made me want to trust him. I was used to people making presumptions about Zeke.

  “You’ve got thirty seconds,” I say sitting back down.

  “I am sorry, it’s just I have seen you around here playing with Zeke the last few days and I wanted to get to know you because you’re…well…look at you,” he says.

  “Does that typically work for you?” I ask crossing my legs.

  “What?” he asks genuinely.

  “Telling a girl she is attractive in order to make up for the fact that you’re a total ass?”

  “Hey, your dog did attack me,” he says softly. This isn’t going well for him. And he knows it. He seems like someone who typically does well with the pick-up. He’s actually flustered with himself—fidgeting. I enjoy his discomfort though. I am normally the one who is a disaster in these types of situations, at least when I actually tried to be polite to the opposite sex. His awkwardness makes a smile break through my anger. He grins at me and I roll my eyes.

  “Well you attacked me in retaliation. So, I think we’re solid,” I say, still bitter, I am not going to try with this guy. He’s not the type of person I should try with, not by the looks of him. I purposefully pull out Zeke’s bright green service vest out of my bag and put it on him. He stares wide-eyed.

  “I am an ass,” he says. I’m not disagreeing with him.

  “Look, something we can agree on,” I clap back at him. He looks over at me and waves a hand in front of my face.

  “Jesus Christ I am not blind, I just pointed out you were wearing a two-hundred-dollar watch,” I say scoffing.

  “I believe you said five hundred,” he says cockily.

  I give him a look.

  “Sorry, it’s just…I thought only blind people have service dogs?”

  “You thought wrong,” I start to pack up the rest of my things so I can get out of here.

  “So, seriously, what’s the dog for?” he asks. Okay, this conversation is over.

  “Is that any of your business?” I ask getting up. Then, he looks up and gives Zeke a milk bone from his pocket.

  “I guess not,” he says trying not to laugh. He planned this encounter.

  “So, you carry milk bones?” I asked.

  “Not normally,” he says, “I told you, I wanted to meet you.” I give him credit for not lying to me about planning to approach me.

  “You’re a little presumptuous, aren’t you?” I ask hotly.

  “I wanted to get to know you, sue me.”

  “Well, Damian, you did a terrible job at that. I’ve got to go,” I say getting up.

  “Wait, please,” he starts.

  “I have a meeting to go to, and thanks to your milk bone antics, I have to make a stop and change my clothes,” I say starting to walk away. “Come on, Zeke.”

  “Maybe we will see each other around?” he says coming up beside me. I can tell from the look on his face that rejection is not something that he is used to. This is something very new to him.

  “I really hope not,” I mutter.

  “Ouch, okay. Listen, please let me make it up to you?” he says, “Tomorrow, coffee is on me?”

  “As opposed to on me?” I say rolling my eyes. I enjoy this. I enjoy rejecting him. Maybe that makes me a horrible person? I am not sure. I am also not sure that I care, I have twenty minutes to change.

  “I’ll purchase your coffee and guarantee that it stays in the cup,” he says.

  I just shook my head. The nerve of this guy, randomly coming over to me, stalking me the last couple of days…it’s just too creepy.

  So, I tell him just that.

  “Do you realize how creepy it is to stalk a person, barge into their morning coffee, and judge their life? If you are trying to hit on me, you failed. I don’t need a fuckboy,” I say. His jaw drops.

  “Can I at least get your name?” he asks ignoring me. I scoff and continue walking.

  “Zeke, some guard dog you are,” I say when I get far enough down the quad.

  My day hasn’t improved from my unfortunate encounter with the frat boy. I hate disclosing my disability—mostly because of the look.

  The look is the instant people learn about the juvenile myoclonic epilepsy. The instant their eyes widen, lips purse, and their heads nod in sympathy while their voices, no matter what the sex takes on a motherly tone. Or worse, when people look at me like I am glass that could break at any moment—a ticking time bomb that could go off in their incapable hands.

  I first saw the look from my sister. The day after I was diagnosed at thirteen. Boobs, periods, and seizures—exactly enough changes to make a girl feel more lost than on solid ground.

  The only person to never give me the look was Grandma Gladys.

  Nan was the only constant in my childhood—and having a son with JME she was used to the disease and wise enough to know that sympathy wouldn’t get me anywhere. The day I told her about my first seizure, she just replied, “Hush child, you’re still you. I am still me. Nothing has changed and nothing will change. So, your body doesn’t always agree with you, neither does mine. You’ll get through this. You got the stuff. Stop the racket and be thankful you’re okay.”

  Nan had this way of not saying what you expected to hear but saying exactly what you needed. I guess after Nan's reaction, I started testing people based on their response to my disability. Too much of the look means I won’t be able to handle their compassion without knowing what to do with my hands, and that they wouldn’t understand my morbid humor on the subject. Mel gets pissed when I make fun of myself, that is, when she actually has a conversation with me. Daniel is not a big fan of my sister and I getting along.

  While most of my professors expressed an honest interest in my concerns and instructions with Zeke, the looks of pity and the open-eyed look of fear came into their eyes. I couldn’t blame them, really. Having a student have a seizure in the middle of class is not exactly contusive to the learning environment and can be a horrific ordeal for the inexperienced. But I can handle myself, I have Zeke. However, after five grueling conversations, I am mentally exhausted from walking people through the intimacies of my disability. This is why I prefer not to disclose, especially to friends.

  I walk back to the dorms playing with the leather of Zeke’s leash. I reach down and pat his head. Zeke is such a bittersweet part of my life. I am thankful for him—he gives me the freedom not to disclose to everyone around me and the ability to exercise, live on my own, and have independence. No longer Mel’s burden. No longer something for Daniel to complain about. No longer the cause of their fights. I think that’s why Mel has pulled away since I have lived with them, she has always been more parent or aunt than sister, but since I moved to campus she only talks when she needs to.

  But, with Zeke’s perks came his pitfalls. The stares from people who don’t comprehend service dogs, the visibility of people knowing I have a disability that requires a service dog—and then there’s the thought of Nan. It’s a hard truth, but seeing Zeke also reminds me of Nan’s passing. He’s the last thing she will ever give me.

  After talking to all t
he professors, I need out of my head. I need a good run and plenty of sleep before classes tomorrow. I grab my bag from my room in Oberton and go straight to the gym with Zeke.

  “Come on boy, I walked you—it’s time to walk your human,” I say to him, his tongue resting on the side of his face as if he has a grin.

  I put my headphones on and start listening to the Taylor Swift song the radio wouldn’t stop playing. I settle on the treadmill with Zeke lying beside me. It’s time to run off some steam. I turn up the speed and take the day’s annoyances out on the rubber track. It would have been the perfect stress reliever, but then Zeke starts freaking out and I lose my heart in my stomach. I don’t want an episode this early in the school year. But nope. It’s the fuckboy. Again.

  I feel Zeke pulling on the lead trying to get to the fool. I tell him no.

  I look up and see him behind me via the gym’s floor length mirrors.

  “You know, distracting a service dog is frowned upon…” I say refusing to look back at him.

  “How did you know?” he asks me.

  “Mirror, genius,” I say as I give up on my run and press pause on the machine. He was distracting Zeke, it isn’t a good idea for me to keep running, but I would never have told him that.

  “You didn’t have to stop just for me, I was enjoying the view just fine,” he says. Eww.

  I roll my eyes at him. I need a break from my frustrations, not a life reincarnation of them. I will admit, I take this moment to check him out. I am human, sue me. He has already been working out for a while. His face is pink, and I find myself slightly gawking at his, albeit thin, but muscular arms in his sleeveless shirt. He didn’t look bad. He didn’t look bad at all.

  He is so pretty until he opens his mouth.

  “Damian, can I finish my run without distraction, please?” I ask frustrated.

  “So, I distract you?” he grins. He noticed me checking him out. I turn towards him.

  “Coming directly behind me and watching me run? Yes, I find that very distracting.”

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot, I just came over to reintroduce myself and to see if I could get a do over,” he responds. I could already tell that, to him, I was a conquest.