Only With You (Knights #2)

3

JULIANNA

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to fail again,” I grumble, propping my elbows on the table. Letting my head hang, I raise my thumbs at my temples and fingers to the crown of my head.

“There, there.” My best friend, Eloise Cano, but I call her El, softly pats my hair.

She chuckles as I swat it away and look up.

El dips a french fry into the massive pile of ketchup on her basket. “Why are you being so negative? We just started school three weeks ago.”

I’ve only known El for a year, but I’ve never been more sure of a friendship in my life. She’s a year younger than me, a junior, but that doesn’t matter. We met last year in this same spot at Benny’s, the diner she works at.

I stumbled upon this place by accident. I was craving hot chocolate after work and most places were closed except this diner. I came in and met Eloise because she was my waitress. After I put my order in, she said, “You’re about to drink the most bomb-ass hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your life.”

It wasn’t, but she was the coolest person I’d ever met. Because it was a slow night, she sat across from me, shared a basket of french fries and chicken tenders, and talked until it was closing time.

“I took my first test of the semester this morning, and I was the last one out.”

“You know finishing last isn’t a bad thing.”

“I know it’s not, but after the exam, some people stuck around to discuss their answers, and let me just say, my answers were nowhere near theirs.”

I sigh, looking down at my hands, feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay. It’s only the first exam and the beginning of the semester. Don’t stress.”

“This is my third time taking Calculus II, and even after three weeks, I still don’t get anything.” A massive headache inhabits my head. The pain pounds at my skull, but the crippling anxiety that courses throughout my body makes the pain feel weightless. “That’s why I chose Professor Ellis. She’s rated five stars on Rate My Professor. But despite how good she is, I still have no clue what she’s talking about. Nothing is clicking or making sense. If my test this morning isn’t indication enough of that.”

“It’s only the third week of school. It’s okay if nothing makes sense. Either way, there’s a reason why Ellis is rated a five. I’ve heard she’s really good about accommodating her hours and quick at replying to emails. You’re going to be fine,” she says positively.

I shouldn’t be negative. I should be hopeful and positive, but it’s hard.

I desperately need to pass so I can stay on track to graduate in May next year and not land in academic probation. If I fail Calc again, it’ll drop my grade point average. After failing twice, it really hindered my GPA.

I can’t afford to fall behind, especially after the lecture I got from Dad and the look of disappointment on his face when he found out I didn’t pass.

He’s never failed or made below an A. Even Mom and my sister Natalie, who both didn’t stay in school long because they ventured into the world of modeling, never failed. Then there’s me, the idiot in the family because I don’t get math. I want to understand it so badly, but numbers and letters don’t make sense to me.

“You know I really need to pass to get into medical school.”

I’ve met a lot of people who are taking a gap year, but Dad refuses to let me do that. He said he didn’t take one and anyone who does is lazy. I can’t argue with him, because not only did he always graduate top of his class, but he went to an Ivy League.

“You’ll pass, just have faith in yourself.” She points a ketchup-saturated fry in my direction.

I let out a breathy sigh, wiping my sweaty palms on my olive green cargo miniskirt. “You know what, you’re right. I don’t know why I get in over my head.”

“You know the material, but you’re stressing yourself out. Don’t forget C’s get degrees.” She chides and stuffs the fry into her mouth.

“I’m sure most medical schools won’t feel the way about that motto, and you know how my dad is. He’d have a stroke if I used those words in front of him.”

“Right…” she trails off, lips pinched tight, but it’s only to stop herself from talking. I know her well enough to know she’s still going to say what’s on her mind regardless, because El doesn’t have a filter. “Because he’s a huge control freak, just like your mom. Honestly, it’s really shitty to make you live out their dreams when they’ve already lived out theirs. Rich people, I tell ya, can’t ever be happy. Stuck miserable in their own lives, so they have to make others miserable as well.”

She’s not entirely wrong. Mom and Dad are huge control freaks, but I guess when your dad is a neurosurgeon and your mom is a stylist for celebrities, they have certain expectations.

The only thing she’s wrong about is living through their dreams, at least Mom’s. If it were up to her, I’d be a model like Natalie and not in school. Though she did try, thanks to her connections, but I failed miserably.

I glance out the window of the diner, staring at the almost dead parking lot for a Friday. It’s not late in the day. The sun is out and shining, and the weather is warm for September.

This is what I like about North Carolina, despite the weird, fluctuating weather. I like that I get to experience all of the seasons. In just a few weeks, it’ll be fall. The weather will be cool, and the leaves will change color. And then winter will be here.

In California, I don’t get to experience this, and sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to live here permanently. Specifically, near the beach. I’ve heard Wilmington is pretty.

“—you parents just really care,” El says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said I’m sorry for what I said. I know your parents just really care.”

I drop my gaze to the ruby red plastic tumbler filled with water. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. You’re not entirely wrong.”

She picks up another fry and twirls it around the ketchup. “I really hate that you can’t do what you love and have to put up with their ridiculous expectations.”

“They’re not ridiculous. It’s the least I can do.”

El’s the only person who knows what I want to do and has encouraged me to do it. I want to pursue being a music teacher, I really do, but the last thing I want to do is disappoint my parents more than I already have.

I wouldn’t have the life that I do if it weren’t for them.

“But that’s not the only reason I’m stressed…” I eye the basket of cajun crinkle fries. My mouth waters and my fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to pick one up, but I refrain from grabbing one.

Natalie is getting married next year, and my bridesmaid dress has already been altered. So if I gain weight, Mom would lose it.

She arches a brow, a playful gleam on her face. “Does this have something to do with the hot basketball player that?—”

I cut her off with a glare. “No, this has nothing to do with him.”

“How does it feel to live my dream?” She ignores my statement, a megawatt smile stretching across her face. “I’m so jealous of you. What’s it like being around him?”

I glower. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. And if you really want to know, it’s soul-draining. Can we move on?”

“Is your vision not twenty-twenty anymore? Have you all of a sudden gone blind?”

I reclined back on the booth. “I seriously don’t understand your obsession with him, or anyone, for that matter.”

“It’s not an obsession.” She wipes her greasy fingers on a napkin and throws her brunette braid over her shoulder. “But you can’t deny Landon Taylor is insanely fine and has beautiful hair. So, come on, spill. You literally have the inside scoop. You live with his two best friends, so I’m sure he’s over a lot, huh?”

“Okay, TMZ, chill the fuck out.” I twirl a lock of my blonde hair around my finger. “I really can’t tell you anything because he’s hardly around, and when he is, I stay in my room.”

The less we’re around each other, the better. Somehow, someway, we always break out into an argument and I know the girls are over it.

The jar Polly set up in the living room has racked up a lot of dollar bills over the past few weeks. It also got painted over by Gabby. In the middle it has a J at least, it’s what El told me. I don’t doubt that. I’ve been around tall people, but I’ve never been around anyone as tall as him. Sandy-beige skin, almost fully covered in intricate black ink. Mid-length, black, and thick, wavy hair with the kind of volume some girls would envy. A short, neatly-trimmed beard on his square jaw. And he’s got a thick and deep British accent that I’ve seen girls literally fawn over.

“Are you going to stand there and gawk, or are you going to help?” he asks as he puts the rug back in its place.

“I wasn’t gawking.”

“Eye-fucking me then.”

“Get over yourself.”

“Okay, Hollywood,” he mocks, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Would you stop calling me that? I have a name.”

He stiffly moves, placing the coffee table in the center of the rug. “I have a name, too.”

“Excuse me?” I take a step back as he approaches me.

“Spawn of Satan, piece of shit, arsehole, jerk, and so on. My name is Landon, but instead, you call me everything but that.”

I take another step back, to add some distance between us, but my back hits the wall. To meet his eyes, I have to tip my head back because he’s towering over me. God, he’s so tall.

“You want me to say your name when you’ve never said mine. So, don’t give me that offended bullshit. You’re no better than me, yet you pretend to be.”

I want to tell him to shove his assumptions up his ass, but I don’t.

“If you found what you’re looking for, you know where the door is.”

His eyes drop down to my chest for a split second before they meet mine again. “I haven’t and won’t be leaving until I do. The sooner I find them, the sooner I’m gone.”

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but he’s right. I hadn’t considered that. “What are you looking for?”

“My earbuds.”

“What color are they?”

“They’re in a black case.”

Wait a minute. “I know where they’re at.”

He suspiciously stares at me like he doesn’t believe me. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, they’re in my room. I thought they were my best friend’s. She was over the other day and—look, it doesn’t matter. They’re in my room. Now move, so I can go get them.”

He lingers for a beat before he steps to the side, clearing my path. I head to my room, straight to my desk where the black case sits.

When I turn around, I jolt, almost dropping the case when I spot him inside my room by the doorway.

“What the hell? I didn’t tell you to follow me.”

He lazily shrugs. “You didn’t say anything. I assumed you wanted me to follow you.”

“Whatever.” I cut the space between us and shove the case in his waiting palm.

My eyes widen and study the size of it. I’ve never described myself as small, but the difference in our hand sizes makes me feel just that, small.

No one has ever made me feel that way.

I swallow, snapping out of it and pulling back.

“You got what you came for. Now, leave.”

Curling his fingers over the case, he turns on his heel and heads to the living room. He slips his shoes back on, and before he walks out, he glances over his shoulder. A tantalizing smirk curves his lips, making a deep indent on each cheek.

He has dimples?

“Have fun,” is all that he says before he walks out, shutting the door behind him.

Have fun? What the hell is that supposed to—oh, fuck.

I left my hot pink dildo on top of my white duvet.