Left Hanging Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Left Hanging

  Copyright © 2017 by Cindy Dorminy All rights reserved.

  First Edition: March 2017

  Print ISBN-13: 978-1-940215-93-8

  Print ISBN-10: 1-940215-93-5

  Thank you for downloading this Red Adept Publishing eBook

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  Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  To those who never left me hanging

  Chapter One

  Darla

  It isn’t until he grins at me that I realize I’m eyeballing him. That country music star at Bongo Java last month didn’t make me gawk this much. This man’s green T-shirt matches his smiling eyes, which stand out even from across the room, in contrast to his fair skin. I’ve never stared at a boy like this before, and getting caught ogling makes my cheeks feel as if they’re going to catch fire. Maybe if I hadn’t waited until the last week of college to go to a party, I would have a better idea of how to handle frat-boy eye candy.

  My stomach is doing this snap, crackle, pop sound that has me second-guessing the chips and salsa I ate earlier. I’m sure everyone at this party hears my heart pounding, even over the “woo-hoos” that erupt when each new guest enters and the wompity-womp music blasting from the speakers.

  This must be what it feels like to be in a movie where everything gets fuzzy except for that one thing that stays in focus. That one thing zooms closer… grinning.

  He’s moving this way, when a dude stops him. He listens to his buddy and nods at appropriate times, but he still holds my gaze. He pats the guy’s back then continues in my direction, closing the chasm between us. He runs his hand through his blond hair, messing it up in all the right places, and all I want to do is mess it up more.

  “Finally, after all this time, he’s going to speak to me,” Mallory says.

  My roommate’s voice startles me back to reality. Oh yeah, she’s still here.

  “What?”

  She inches closer to my ear. “That guy coming our way. He’s so shy. I’ve probably hit on him five times this year. I make a point to know when he’s at the dining hall. He eats the same food every single blasted day. I mean, what college boy lives on salad and baked chicken? And I say ‘hey’ to him all the time, but the boy doesn’t take a hint.”

  I lower my eyes to the floor. I thought he was noticing me, when, of course, he was checking her out. If I were a guy, I would be doing the same thing. When I get the nerve to sneak a peek, I lock eyes with him again. Oh, sh-sugar. This time, regardless of what Mallory thinks, I’m positive his eyes are really focusing on mine. But that’s impossible.

  “Darla, don’t wait up,” she whispers.

  I glance over at Mallory before my eyes shift to the dress I’m wearing, the one I borrowed from Mallory. There’s no competition when it comes to who would win the getting-the-guy contest. That’s why I never play that game. Mallory’s legs go on forever, whereas mine barely get started. She loves these social situations so she can flaunt all her perfectness. My appearance isn’t shabby, if I do say so myself, but that’s because Mallory did my makeup tonight. She also insisted I wear my hair down instead of pulled up into my typical ponytail. Accentuate the positive is Mallory’s mantra, and she says my positives are dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Flaunt it, don’t hide it.

  Oh God. I’m at T minus ten seconds before we’ll be nose to nose, and he’s still smiling at me. Suddenly, the room feels excessively small and cramped, just like all five lobes of my lungs. I’ve got to get out of this roach motel before he realizes there’s something more appealing to stare at. Exhibit A: my roomie. But I can’t stop gawking at those gorgeous green eyes. They’re like magnets that keep me from focusing on anything else, not that I’m putting up a fight.

  When I move to make my exit, my face meets the massive chest of a huge linebacker-type dude carrying about five more drinks than one person should possibly try to hold. The plastic cups slosh beer all over my super cute, borrowed sundress. The cheap brew splashes onto my face and drips down my neck. Sweat and beer make a lovely combination on a humid spring night. My sandal slips in something that might have been food a few months ago. If it is as nasty as it smells, I’ll have to burn my sandals after tonight.

  Mallory will never let me wear her clothes again. But thankfully, she didn’t even notice. She’s doing this girlie finger wave in hopes of getting the cute guy’s attention. Another guy grabs her around the waist. She squeals, and they rush off toward the kegs. That’s typical Mallory. When someone new shows her attention, she forgets her current mission.

  “Do you mind?” I yell at linebacker dude, hoping my words rise above the deafening music pouring out of the stereo speakers.

  “Not at all, babe. Here, let me help you out.”

  He reaches toward me to wipe down the front of my dress, causing more beer to pour over the rims of the cups. I smack his hand away. Creepy perv. Not in this universe, bud. I search around and see a room at the top of the stairs that I really hope is a bathroom. God help me if it’s someone’s bedroom. The way this night’s goi
ng, it wouldn’t surprise me.

  Linebacker dude follows right behind me. His beer breath on my neck makes me feel as if somebody is walking over my grave. All eyes watch us climb the stairs. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t belong at a frat party. This place is for happy, outgoing people like Mallory. I need to clean myself up and leave.

  Linebacker dude pops my butt, snapping me out of my internal monologue. Oh, he did not do that. My nursing professor would call what I’m feeling an irregular heartbeat. If I don’t get control of my heart rate soon, someone will have to call 9-1-1. Getting the attention of Cutie Pie followed by getting too much attention from Non-Cutie Pie is more than I can handle in one night.

  “Back off, Stevens,” someone yells from across the room.

  Linebacker dude, a.k.a. Stevens, and I both snap our heads in the direction of the command. Whoa! That baritone voice with the southern drawl came from Mr. Smiley Eyes himself. I steal a glance at Mallory, who is busy picking her jaw up off the nasty floor, before I flee into the bathroom upstairs and escape all unwanted advances.

  I slam the door shut. Hopefully, Stevens won’t follow me in here. He’d better not. Even drunken frat boys have some manners. At least I hope they do. “What am I doing here?” I ask to my reflection in the spittle-covered mirror. Beer drips down Mallory’s sundress. The material is now a nice creepy light-amber color over what used to be a really pretty shade of pink. Streaks of mascara trail down my cheek, making me look as though I’ve been crying. That might happen if I have to face Stevens again on my way out.

  I splash cold water onto my face to remove the raccoon eyes my mascara left behind, while doing my best to avoid the collection of hair and unidentifiable objects caught in the drain. I fumble through my purse in search of my hairbrush.

  Suddenly, the door swings wide open. I shriek and drop my purse on the nasty, sticky floor. Smiley Eyes rushes in. This night keeps getting crappier. Some one-on-one time with this guy would be awesome in any other setting. But right now, I look more suited for the cover of a Courtney Love CD. Not a great first impression. But at least the guy busting through the door isn’t Stevens.

  “Shh.” He slams the door and locks it.

  I back away from him, bumping into the toilet. “What are you doing?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “What are you doing?” I ask in a more hushed tone.

  “Hiding from that long-legged gal that keeps chasing me.” He places his ear to the door.

  “Which one?”

  “Don’t know her name; don’t want to know her name.” He gawks at me, making my pulse race.

  I stare at the mirror, trying to fix my rat’s nest of hair. “How did I get talked into coming here?” I ask my reflection.

  He leans toward the door and listens for another minute before he deposits himself onto the counter, millimeters away from me. “I was wondering about that. You’re kinda like the elephant in the room.”

  I scrunch my brow.

  He stares at the ceiling and groans. “That didn’t come out right. It was supposed to be a compliment.”

  I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date, much less had a real boyfriend. School has been my priority, and I really don’t need a distraction this close to graduation. But he’s so darn cute, and there’s something about him that makes my insides tingly when he focuses on me.

  I run my brush through my hair once, adding a few new samples to the collection in the sink, while I quickly glance at the cute guy out of the corner of my eye. For some reason, I still hold his attention. My pulse picks up the pace again, and I’m sure it sounds like The Tell-Tale Heart. At any minute, my heart is going to explode out of my chest. I’m trying to remember if a beta-blocker or an ACE inhibitor would work better to decrease my heart rate. I don’t think either will have a significant effect with this guy so close to me.

  “I’ll take that compliment.”

  “Good,” he says.

  “Good,” I reply like a stupid parrot. Think of something to say, quick.

  He cracks a grin again, and bam—a dimple pops out on his right cheek. Have mercy. Now, I know I have pretty good self-control, but a hefty dose of cuteness coupled with that adorable dimple is going to make me drool so fast my head will spin. But that dimple is probably part of his standard operating procedure to make the girls swoon. He has to know how cute he is and what that dimple does to me—I mean, what it does to all girls. I’ll bet he gets the once-over all the time and loves it.

  He leans down to pick up my purse and hands it to me. When he glides back onto the counter, he dangles his feet like a six-year-old sitting on the side of a swimming pool. So far, he hasn’t popped my butt or sloshed beer on me, so he’s two points ahead of Stevens in the manners department. At least he has that going for him.

  “Thanks.”

  “Stevens didn’t scare you, did he?”

  I wave him off. “Nah. You, on the other hand, have me a bit worried.”

  He laughs. “Hey now. And here I was making sure he didn’t follow you in here. I was trying to be a gentleman.”

  The tingly sensation flutters in my stomach again. I’ve never had anyone keep a watchful eye out for me, especially a guy that’s so kind and easy to talk to. There’s definitely more to this person than a pretty face. I can’t explain it, but I know I can trust him.

  I sit on the counter next to him, but my butt slides into the sink. He catches me, as though it’s a natural thing to do, rather than trying to cop a feel. Even through my dress, I can feel the warmth from where his hand touched my waist. Maybe I could fake another sink-slip so he’ll grab onto me again. Darla, get it together and get out of here fast before you let him grab you in other places.

  “Sure you are. Should I take a poll of all the girls downstairs to see how many have been fed that line before?”

  He makes this girly “oh my God” face and bats those irresistible eyelashes. “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

  I roll my not-so-irresistible eyes. “Quoting scripture doesn’t make you a saint.”

  He stares at me and chuckles.

  I switch my focus to the dried beer on my calf. I don’t want to stop gaping at the man next to me, but I need to if I want to regain the ability to breathe and speak simultaneously. At least my heartbeat isn’t so loud that the people in the next county can hear it anymore.

  I take a deep breath and try to sound confident, even though I don’t feel it at all. “So, am I going to be trapped in here all night?”

  “It appears so.”

  “Actually, there’s nothing to stop me from leaving except you. I think I can take you.”

  He puffs out his chest and gives me another dimple sighting. “I think you called me small, but I’m going to ignore that comment. Besides, what’s the harm in keeping me company? At least until Sally or Tally starts sniffing in another direction.”

  “Because you were being a gentleman, I’ll give you a few more minutes of my time.” I sigh and blow a strand of hair out of my eyes. “I smell like beer.”

  He leans in and sniffs me. How strange and surprisingly… nice.

  Goose bumps form on the back of my neck, although his breath isn’t creepy like Stevens’s ogre breath. It’s warm and inviting. And I might let him do that again if he wants to.

  “At least it’s fresh beer and not recycled.”

  I crinkle my nose at the thought. “That’s… ew.”

  “What’s your name?” he asks.

  Oh no. I am not giving him my name. He’ll probably spread rumors about me. I know how frat boys work. Nope. Not going to happen. People can say a lot of things about Darla Battle, but one thing’s for sure—I am not gullible.

  “Juliet,” I blurt out. Now he’ll think I’m a hopeless romantic.

 
; He snorts. “Really? Juliet?”

  I nod and try not to grin, but it’s not working, so I cover my mouth with my hand. “So, what’s your name?” I cannot believe I asked for his name. I don’t want to know his name. Okay, maybe I do.

  “Hmm.” He stares at the ceiling, and a playful grin slides across his face. “Romeo.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Do your parents hate mine?”

  He laughs. “I guess so, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.” He extends a hand that I take without hesitation. “It’s nice to meet you, Juliet.”

  I bite my lip to keep from smiling. He has a nice, warm hand. I hold on to it a bit longer than I should. In fact, I could hold on to his hand for a very long time. I’m drawn to him like a magnet, and I have no plans to resist the feeling.

  His gaze wanders down to our hands, which are still wound together. Oh crap. I’ve exceeded the proper allotment of contact time with a complete stranger. I snatch my hand away as if a bolt of lightning suddenly hit me.

  “Nice to meet you too, Romeo. But just so you know, I’m not killing myself over you.”

  His dimple pops out again. “Duly noted.”

  He stands and stretches as though he’s getting ready to run a marathon. Then he claps his hands together as if psyching himself up for a big game.

  His actions cause me to snap out of my daze. I blink at him like a fool. A bang on the door startles me, and I jump so high that I almost hit the ceiling.

  “You don’t wanna come in here,” Romeo says. “I need the candle of shame.”

  “Sorry, man,” someone says from the other side of the door.

  Romeo glances over his shoulder at me, and his eyes light up. “So, how good are you at Rock-Paper-Scissors?”

  He is full of surprises. Instead of plying me full of alcohol and forcing himself on me, he wants to play kid games. He didn’t make me feel stupid because I didn’t want to give him my real name. Romeo is definitely somebody I think I can trust, somebody I would like to know more about. There’s something about him… “I’m a beast.”