The Sweetest Scent Part 24

At that Lacey giggled, unable to help herself. "Jeez, Parker. Lay off, will you?"

Parker leaned closer, and his expensive woodsy cologne wafted over Lacey. "It's not uncommon for students to have crushes on their teachers, especially ones they've idolized for-"

"I do not not have a crush on Professor Marchand!" Lacey turned to wave her paintbrush in his face, barely controlling her voice. "He's a fabulous violinist, but I am not attracted to him. I'm not! And all this talk isn't going to change that." She glared at Parker with every bit of her strength of will, which she had in abundance, thankfully. have a crush on Professor Marchand!" Lacey turned to wave her paintbrush in his face, barely controlling her voice. "He's a fabulous violinist, but I am not attracted to him. I'm not! And all this talk isn't going to change that." She glared at Parker with every bit of her strength of will, which she had in abundance, thankfully.

"Lace, is this guy bothering you?"

Startled by the new, rough voice, Lacey swiveled around and found Deacon standing a few feet away, his eyes alternating between her and Parker.

"Oh, no," Lacey hurried to say. "Parker's just... being a total b.u.t.thead." She glared at Parker as she uttered the childish taunt.

Parker burst into hearty laughter while Deacon grimaced and frowned. "You sure?"

"She said so, didn't she?" Parker needled, his gray eyes flas.h.i.+ng like swords.

In horror Lacey watched Deacon's eyes, green like tropical pools, narrow, and the line of his square jaw strain. She was certain he was going to start throwing punches any second. His hands fisted at his sides, and Lacey opened her mouth to speak.

The moment she did, though, Deacon's attention turned to her, and his tension eased. "If you're sure." That was all he said before he offered a curt nod and stomped off to the edge of the stage. Yet, he stuck around, talking to some guy by the stands but giving Lacey and Parker furtive glances.

Lacey sighed. "G.o.d, Parker. Why do you have to rile him up every time you see him? Can't you see he's-?"

"Oh, Lace," Parker interjected, his gaze meandering toward Deacon. "Just look at him. That Neanderthal's brooding brow, those bulging warrior muscles, those monosyllabic grunts. Oh, he's too easy to tease. And that's not my fault. It would be like ordering you not to jump into a clear cool pond in the middle of a hot summer's day. The temptation is too hard to resist."

"Oh my G.o.d, Parker! Cut it out!" Lacey snapped.

"Why?" Parker faced her, eyes wide and totally without fault or blame. "You can see he's got the hots for you, dear, can't you? Why do you think he's always around, skulking in every dark corner, ready to jump to your aid at the drop of a hat? Any hat? He's such a would-be knight in furry-chested armor."

Lacey blushed. "He does not. You're being so obnoxious. He's just looking for a friend, that's all."

"He's looking for something, all right." Parker winked salaciously at her.

"Arrgh!" Lacey d.a.m.n near screamed. "I can't even stand next to you right now." She moved off to paint another segment of the background, carefully avoiding looking at either man.

Yet her eyes strayed.

And Deacon was staring at her, and his gaze darted away when he was caught.

At the same time, Parker was watching Deacon, and he had that annoying, lecherous, lopsided grin on his face again.

That one gesture boded trouble, every single time.

Like the time Parker built a huge c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s out of papier-mache, painted it in rainbow colors, and superglued it on the top of the dean's car. Or when he switched the handles on the cla.s.sroom doors from one side to the other, thus enticing everyone to pull on the hinge side so none of the doors would open. Or when he attached silly string throughout the main entrance hallway, from every lock, hinge, handle, and possible point of attachment, creating an intricate web no one could see through, let alone get through, until the janitors cleared it up.

Lacey had a bad, bad feeling.

She wasn't sure which was the worst option, though. That Deacon had a thing for her. Or that Parker had a thing for her. Or that Parker had a thing for Deacon. Or that Parker wanted to bring Deacon down a notch with one of his pranks.

Was there an upside to this situation? Lacey sure wasn't seeing it.

"Still mad at me, my dear?"

Parker spoke, sotto voce, from right behind Lacey. He didn't sound timid, but he wasn't exactly being theatrical either. Lacey glanced at him over her should, and he did look repentant. Yes, maybe a little too repentant, with his bowed head and quivering jaw, but still....

"How could I possibly stay mad at a face like that?"

The instagrin that followed told Lacey everything. "Cool." Parker set up shop next to her and began painting again, but was quiet only for a blink of an eye. "So, are you gonna talk to Professor Marchand, or what?"

Lacey frowned, puzzled. "Why would I?"

"'Cause he's hot?"

"Oh, Parker!" Lacey pursed her lips, frustrated. "Do you want me to get mad at you? Because you're close to really irking me."

"Jerking you?" Parker looked pensive. "Hmm, sure, we could do that."

"Fine. I'm officially not talking to you." Lacey took a step to the side to put distance between them.

Parker followed. "What about unofficially?"

Lacey gave him a hard stare. "You're pus.h.i.+ng it." When Parker drew breath for yet another comeback, Lacey cut in. "Don't even think of saying it, or I'm going to march straight over to the director's office, and rat you out." Parker chuckled, all cool like, waving his hand about in impervious dismissal. "Or... alternatively, I'll go talk to Spenser Wilc.o.x, that straight third-year sax player, and tell him you have a major crush on him, and every time you happen to see him, you ogle his rear end."

Parker gasped in shock, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide. "You wouldn't."

Lacey shrugged, feigning indifference. "I might. So give it a rest, will you?"

"Fine." Parker continued painting. "I'm just your best friend here, is all. I thought you might want to talk about it, how you're studying under your musical idol. But perhaps I'm just not trustworthy." He let out the tiniest sniffle, steadfastly looking away from her.

Lacey rolled her eyes. "Oh my G.o.d, Parker. Don't you think for a second I don't know what you're doing. And it's not gonna work."

Parker said nothing, just painted, his chin jutted out.

Lacey gave in, like always with Parker. "Oh, why do I do this? Look, when I said he's my idol, I swear to G.o.d I only meant in the musical sense, not in any kind of s.e.xual sense. I do not not have a crush on Bennett Marchand." have a crush on Bennett Marchand."

"Well, that's good to know."

Without needing to turn, Lacey recognized the professor's voice as it came from stage left, closing in on them. Oh, please, G.o.d, just kill me now Oh, please, G.o.d, just kill me now. She was going to die of embarra.s.sment-right here, right now. She was never going to live this down. Her body was all fired up, and not in a good way. Her face felt like it was burning.

"Good afternoon, Parker, Lacey," Professor Marchand said calmly, though there was a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt there.

Lacey couldn't will herself to turn around, and she stayed frozen in place, cheeks flaming.

"Professor," Parker said congenially, creating enough distraction to help Lacey get back in control. "Something we can do for you?"

"Actually, yes, you can." Professor Marchand sounded cool as ever, totally professional. At last Lacey was able to face him, and with a courteous smile, too.

The renowned violinist epitomized cool sophistication, wealth, and breeding. His gray pinstriped suit, gray silk tie, gray vest, and black shoes probably cost more money than Lacey's yearly tuition. Marchand's dark hair was gray at the temples, but apart from a few laugh lines around his eyes, he could've been in his thirties instead of late forties. Distinguished was the word that came to mind, or s.e.xy if you preferred.

"What is it, sir?" Lacey asked and remembered to thank her lucky stars for keeping her tone neutral.

"I'm hosting a party two weeks from now. It's an annual event. I typically invite a few of the top musicians in my cla.s.s to play there-for pay, of course-and this year I've got my eye on you, Lacey."

Lacey all but swallowed her tongue, unable to find her voice for anything but a totally undignified squeak.

"Lacey, you are a fine violinist. I'd be honored to host your first formal performance, though at a less than formal setting." Before Lacey could stutter a yes or a no, Professor Marchand faced Parker. "Your teachers speak very highly of you as well, Parker. I could use a pianist."

Parker glanced at Lacey warily. "With all due respect, Professor, as much as we would love to help you out, Lacey's musical style and genre are very different from mine. She's a cla.s.sical violinist. I'm a jazz pianist."

Professor Marchand smiled. "I was hoping for some fusion that night anyway. Consider it thematic for the evening. If you two agree, I only need to find a drummer and a sax player."

"I know where to find a saxophone player." Lacey smiled sweetly, glancing at Parker, who looked positively ill then. The idea of spending a night playing next to his straight-guy crush was probably not what Parker had had in mind when suggesting they accept this offer.

"And I'm a drummer, Professor Marchand," Deacon said, coming into view behind them. "Sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but overhear. I play jazz and alternative rock."

"Great, a quartet in one fell swoop," Professor Marchand said, exalted. "I'll inform you of the details in a day or so. Thank you all." Without waiting to hear if any one of them actually agreed, he walked off, humming happily.

"Well, I guess we all have to learn how to get along after all." Parker said this with his usual flare and sarcastic humor and gave Deacon a slow once-over. That look had Lacey crawling up the walls. Deacon snarled silently, revealing his teeth. Parker smiled back, also showing teeth.

Lacey sighed. True enough, they were committed now. In for a penny, in for a pound.

Chapter 22.

"HEY, Bro."

Practically jumping out of his skin, as he was reading, deep in thought, Bro looked up to see Eddy walking toward him and then sitting down across from him at the narrow table of the library. "Hi, Eddy."

What had at first seemed like a pretty decent friends.h.i.+p had become something a bit more uncomfortable for Bro as he observed Eddy flirting with him at every opportunity. The guy was d.a.m.n fine, but the truth was he wasn't Bro's type. Bro wanted a pretty little thing like Lacey. A pet.i.te, feminine boy whose c.o.c.k made him turn inside out with a mere thought.

Eddy leaned forward over the table to see what Bro was reading. "What you doing?"

Bro harrumphed. "This is in the syllabus. Mandatory reading." He offered the cover of the book about media management and marketing. "It's not even half as exciting as I thought film studies would be." He sighed. A lot of things were different from the way he'd imagined them. It had been naive of him to a.s.sume all he would be doing was watching films and TV all day. Now he knew better.

Eddy's green eyes sparkled with interest. "Yeah, I hear ya, brother. It wasn't what I was expecting either."

Another surprise Eddy had sprung on Bro had been him enrolling into the same cla.s.s in communications studies as Bro. Eddy had said he was planning to major in computer science, but now he was talking about a double major. In an effort to avoid giving Eddy the idea he was interested when he wasn't, Bro had volunteered at the HU Speech and Hearing Clinic. Considering he knew ASL like the back of his hand, so to speak, he'd been warmly welcomed, and he felt useful and on track again after getting lost in a sea of scholastic oddities.

"Mmm," Bro muttered noncommittally and resumed reading.

"Wanna go for a run, maybe? Just to get your mind off this for a while."

A month into their college lives, Bro had realized Bradley was awfully busy with his own studies and watching over his twin, Ricky. It had been more difficult than he'd antic.i.p.ated to arrange time for even minimal hanging out together, even though they were both on the football team. Practice was regimented and gave them little time to talk. Eddy had been eager to fill the void left by Bradley, and they had started running together in the mornings or when they had time to kill. Eddy ran track, so he needed to run, while Bro also needed to keep up his running skills for football. Therefore, it was natural for them to practice together.

Bro frowned. "I can't right now. I really have to read this chapter. It's gonna come up next cla.s.s."

"f.u.c.k. You're no fun." But Eddy grinned as he said it and evoked a similar response from Bro. Eddy's tone dropped and turned husky. "Come on," he enticed seductively. "You know you wanna go out for a spin. Just a few miles. Then we'll come back and hang. Or you can read your boring book again."

The idea of letting his mind wander as he put his body to the test did sound appealing to Bro, and not just a little. In a month of college, he'd spent more time reading than in any six months of high school, and he was exhausted. His brain felt like it was oozing out through his ears to avoid serious cramming situations like these. Maybe he simply didn't have a school brain, but a sports brain. That wouldn't surprise him at all.

Bro closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. I love to read. I want to read this book. Yeah, I f.u.c.king want to read this stupid, stupid book, and learn all this stuff, and become a responsible adult, and I love to read. I want to read this book. Yeah, I f.u.c.king want to read this stupid, stupid book, and learn all this stuff, and become a responsible adult, and.... He couldn't even finish the thought before he was groaning with boredom.

"Okay, let's go."

TEN minutes later, Bro may have been running on adrenaline, but he was floating high on endorphins, just glad to have his body in motion. Running was great. Bro was a fast runner, and he let himself go. His muscles strained at first, but he soon grew to love the bitter juices and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. It was always like this. Then he fell into the zone, and it was all good. minutes later, Bro may have been running on adrenaline, but he was floating high on endorphins, just glad to have his body in motion. Running was great. Bro was a fast runner, and he let himself go. His muscles strained at first, but he soon grew to love the bitter juices and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. It was always like this. Then he fell into the zone, and it was all good.

On account of his brain having checked out to lie on the beach of the sea of tranquility, it took Bro a moment to realize Eddy was speaking to him.

"What do you wanna do after?"

Huh? After what? Oh, right, the run. Suddenly Bro wasn't floating anymore. No, he was plummeting down toward inevitable reality. They needed to have this talk right the f.u.c.k now, even at the risk of spoiling his high.

He slowed down to a gentle jog, and immediately Eddy matched his speed. "Listen, dude. I'm glad we're friends, you know. But I'm with Lacey. And that's not gonna change anytime soon."

At that Eddy stopped, leaning on his thighs and panting roughly for a few breaths, but then he straightened up, with the help of his hands on the small of his back. "What are you talking about?"

Bro stopped as well and considered his friend. Did the guy not know he was constantly flirting? How could he not know? "If I got this wrong, these vibes I'm getting from you, then hey, I'm sorry."

Eddy didn't look at Bro, who got a funny feeling. Eddy was staring out across the waters of the McMillan Reservoir. "Look, Bro...." Eddy sure sounded unsure, and his tone had dropped to a near whisper. Then he looked down at the ground and kicked a few pebbles with the tip of his shoe. "Yeah, okay. I'm into you." He shrugged, but his body language screamed discomfort. "I know you're dating Lacey. I just... I can't help the way I feel, you know." He swallowed hard and looked really pale and nauseous. "I'm sorry, Bro, if I made you feel bad."

Bro closed his eyes and prayed for patience and the right words. He didn't want to f.u.c.k up a friends.h.i.+p, but there was no chance this was happening between them. Not now anyway. "Eddy, I'm not offended or angry, or anything. I just wanted to clear the air. Right now I'm with Lace, and I love her, man."

Eddy managed to look more miserable, crestfallen even. "Yeah, I know."

"I don't know what's gonna happen down the line, a week or month from now, or a year. Maybe me and Lacey won't last." G.o.d, please don't let me lose her G.o.d, please don't let me lose her. "But at this point in my life, I can't be with you. It wouldn't be fair to anyone." Bro really hoped Eddy understood. He liked Eddy a lot as a friend. They had similar interests, and they had fun together.

Suddenly Eddy barked out a self-deprecating laugh. "I guess friends with benefits is also out then, huh?"

Bro moved closer and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I've never been with anyone but Lacey. But if I were to consider it, I'd go for you." That may very well have been the dumbest thing he'd ever said, but he wanted Eddy to feel good about himself, not rejected and hopeless. Although Bro didn't want to give him any false hope, either.

But thankfully Eddy did seem a little perkier. He looked up at Bro through his dark bangs, and a flicker of a smile turned up his lips. "Yeah? Well, I guess I'll have to settle for that."

Bro clapped Eddy's shoulder in a show of camaraderie. "Jesus, man. This place is crawling with hotties who'd bend over the second you winked at them. Plenty more fish in the sea."

Now Eddy's smile was a full-on lewd grin. "Yeah, that's right." Then he gave Bro the once-over. "Yeah, I think I can do better than your scrawny little a.s.s."

Then he took off running, cackling maniacally, and Bro dashed after him, cursing like a sailor.