My dad preferred his coffee black. No cream or sugar, nothing fancy or complicated. Simple and straight to the point. The stronger the brew, the better.

It wasn’t until I started working at Fresh Press that I remembered that about him. But whenever a customer ordered black coffee, it always made me think about my dad. It’s strange what our minds choose to hold onto so we can remember the ones we love. How ordinary things, like coffee, can trigger memories.

I guess you could say that working there made me feel like I could still be close to him or something. It sounded crazy, but it was true. That’s how it made me feel. After eight years of feeling worlds apart from him, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

“Americano,” I called out, placing the oversized porcelain cup on the wooden counter.

A short blonde with a pixie cut sprinted up and smiled her thanks at me. I smiled back, pushing all thoughts of my dad out of my mind. Now was not the time to get sentimental.



“Have a good day,” I said out of habit, my hands already busy rinsing the shot glasses I had just used.

“Doing anything exciting tonight, Hailey?”

I shrugged my shoulders before turning to look at my friend and co-worker, Rebecca Foster. “Shayne’s dragging me to some party. It’s off campus at my friend’s frat house. I can’t exactly say I’m excited about going, but I’m trying hard to be optimistic.” I finished rinsing the shot glasses, setting them aside.

“Yeah, you sound thrilled,” she said, the sarcasm heavy in her tone.

“I can hardly control my excitement,” I said blandly. “But I promised her I’d go. She said she’s afraid I’m going to spontaneously combust from lack of fun. Except, her idea of fun is pretty much the opposite of mine.”

Rebecca’s eyes met mine, a sympathetic smile on her bright red lips. “Well, at least you’re doing something. It beats hanging out at the library on a Friday night, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but parties aren’t really my thing.” Not that I preferred spending every waking minute in the library, either. It was just an easy alternative to the cramped dorm room I shared with Shayne.

“It’s just one night, Hailey.”

I didn’t respond.

She looked down at her hands, examining the polish on her nails, looking frustrated by what she was seeing. “This place is murdering my hands. Two chipped nails already,” she grumbled.

I peered down at my own nails. A manicure would serve them well. Not that it was something I would ever do, which was probably why my deprived hands needed it so badly. I crossed my arms in front of me, tucking my hands out of Rebecca’s sight.

She always looked so stylish and posh, even while at work. It was an effortless gift that she seemed to have mastered, one I wished I could glean from her. She looked like she had just stepped out of the pages of a Banana Republic catalog, dressed in black skinny jeans, a green silk shirt and ankle boots. Needless to say, it was a far cry from the flannel shirt, faded jeans and broken-in Converse I was wearing.

Rebecca gave up on her hands, tucking them behind her back, leaning against them on the back counter. She turned and looked at me, a small smile spreading across her face. “Did I tell you I met a guy last night?”

I shook my head, returning the smile. “Give me all the details,” I encouraged her.

“His name is Dean. He lives in my building. We’ve crossed paths a few times on the elevator, but last night was the first time we actually talked. As luck would have it, he received some of my mail and he kindly returned it to me.”

“Sounds like fate to me,” I encouraged her.

“Right?” she said, her brown eyes sparkling. “You should see him. Practically a Greek God. Though, come to think of it, I think he might actually be Italian, but I’m not sure.”

I laughed under my breath, “I’m guessing tall, dark and handsome?”

“Always.”

“Naturally.” I hadn’t known Rebecca long, but she had made her preference in men very clear. She was positive she was destined to have olive-skinned babies with jet black hair, though her own skin was a pale shade of alabaster and her waist length hair was bronze.

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?” I was being evasive on purpose because I knew exactly what she was asking me. She had made it a point to ask me every shift we’d worked together since I’d started working at Fresh Press six weeks before.

“Meet any hot guys yet?”

I shook my head, shrugging with one shoulder. “Not really.” Of course, I had met plenty of guys, the University of Oregon’s campus was crawling with them. But would I consider dating any of them? No. None of them really seemed like dating material.

“I wish my brother was going to school here,” she said, pursing her lips. “You two would be adorable together.

I laughed, “You keep saying that.”

She shrugged. “Well, I’m sure Dean has a single friend I can hook you up with or something. How fun would that be?” she asked with excitement.

I hesitated for a moment before responding. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Rebecca’s feelings, but her taste in men wasn’t exactly compatible with mine. I had met her previous boyfriend, Robert, who was not only in his thirties, he was also the polar opposite of the type of guys I had dated back home. He had stopped in a few times to see Rebecca, each time wearing a different Gucci suit, flashing his white gold Rolex watch and million dollar smile for all the world to see. Although I had never met Dean, I couldn’t imagine that he would be that different from Robert, otherwise Rebecca wouldn’t be interested in him.

I shook my head at her. “I appreciate the gesture and everything and I’m sure Dean is a great guy. But, I think I’ll stick to the University boys and frat parties,” I hoped she wouldn’t be offended.

“Boys is right,” she retorted, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

“Well, we’re not all looking for husband material right now,” I reminded her.

She exhaled heavily, “Anything less is a waste of time. One day you’ll learn.”

“Maybe when I’m twenty-two,” I teased.

“One can only hope.”

*  *  *

The room was stifling. The combination of multiple smoke machines and a packed dance floor were to blame. There were so many bodies in the small space that it felt more like a mosh pit. After an hour on the floor, I was burning up, I had to get some air. I stopped moving to the music and scanned the crowded space, looking for an exit route.

“What’s wrong?” Shayne screamed in my ear, trying to compete with the deafening music. Her wavy blonde hair was starting to cling to her neck, proof of just how warm it was in the room.

“I’m going to pass out if I don’t get out of here!” I hollered back.

She nodded her understanding and gripped my hand, abruptly leading me out of the room we’d been dancing in. Shayne paused long enough to retrieve two red cups from a boy pumping beer from a keg and then led me out the front door of the frat house, onto the large porch. There were people positioned in various areas, though the stairs leading up to the porch were empty, so we sat there.

“Isn’t this awesome?” she exclaimed, holding out a cup for me.

“Yeah,” I replied, sounding indifferent.

Shayne rolled her eyes, taking a long drink. “Admit it, Hailey, you’re having fun,” she prodded me.

“I always have fun dancing,” I admitted, which was true. But the binge drinking and communal drugs being passed around the party, I could do without. Not to mention the number of times I had been groped on the dance floor, I could easily live without that, too.

“Well, at least you’re here,” she said into her cup.

I didn’t respond. There was no doubt in my mind that Shayne would forever use the excuse that I’d had fun as an argument to convince me to go to more parties with her in the future. I was already dreading it.

Shayne had come to Oregon from Las Vegas. According to her, living life in the fast lane was as natural as breathing, which I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around. Getting to know her over the past weeks and hearing her wild stories about life in the city of sin had been a bit of culture shock for me. It made me appreciate the memories of my childhood even more. She had been exposed to things I didn’t even know existed, which was her shock. Needless to say, it hadn’t taken me long to discover that Shayne Sinclair’s life was one big, non-stop party. And she had every intention of maintaining her lifestyle in college.

Her Vegas life was nothing like the one I’d had growing up in Bend, which was just two and a half hours East of Eugene. While Shayne had spent her youth in a concrete jungle, I had grown up in the lush and beautiful, natural Northwest. Bend had been an incredible place to grow up and I had no doubt that I’d wind up raising my own family there one day.

“I was wondering where you’d disappeared to.”

I heard the voice and knew it belonged to Matt Holland, before I even saw his face. Shayne and I turned to see him approaching us. He didn’t wait for an invitation to sit, though he didn’t really need one, considering it was his frat house’s party and he had been the one to invite us. He plopped down between Shayne and I, looking as confident as ever.

“What happened to your hair?” I asked with a laugh, shocked by his appearance.

He ran a hand over his newly buzzed head and laughed. Saying nothing, he leaned back against the steps and pointed at his shirt, in bold letters were the initials SPBC. “All the new pledges were inducted to the Sigma Pi Boot Camp today. Complete with military hair cuts and…” he trailed off as he reached a hand down the collar of his shirt, revealing a set of dog tags around his neck. Only they were actual dog tags, in the shape of bones. His name was written in permanent marker across each tag.

“I have no words for that,” I muttered. It was all I could manage to say.

Matt and I had known each other since high school. He had dated a few of my friends over the years, though nothing serious. We had run in the same social circle, been on a few group camping trips together and a school coast weekend. The two of us had never really been close to one another, though we’d always been friendly.

On move-in day, we were pleasantly surprised to discover we’d been assigned to the same dorm hall, though we weren’t on the same floor. Because I was majoring in Journalism and his major was Architecture, we only shared one required science lecture together. However, in recent weeks, it seemed like we were always bumping into each other.

“I saw you tearing up the dance floor in there,” he said, smiling broadly at me. “Are you still dancing?”

“Not as much as I used to,” I said, shaking my head. “I thought about majoring in dance, but it’s really hard to make a career out of that.”

“But you move so well,” he said with a lingering smile.

I shifted slightly. “Years and years of practice paid off, I guess.”

“I would say it more than paid off,” Shayne said, peering around Matt to look at me.

Dance had always been a huge part of my life, so letting go of it completely would never be an option. In many ways, dance had been my therapy. A coping mechanism, really. It was only a few weeks after my dad’s fatal heart attack that my fourth grade class took a field trip to see The Nutcracker. I had been absolutely captivated by the beautiful people on stage and their ability to move so gracefully. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be one of those dancers. So, my mom enrolled me in a lyrical dance class and it awakened something inside of me- something good, at a time when I needed it most.

Expressing myself had never really been a struggle for me, except when it came to talking about my dad. I still couldn’t really talk about losing him. It was too painful. Too raw. But just because I couldn’t talk about it, didn’t mean I wasn’t feeling the devastation. I quickly learned that I could use dance as a way to release the emotions I had bottled up inside of me and express myself through movement, without having to say a word.

Since moving to Eugene and starting college, dance had been demoted to a secondary role in my life. After the countless number of hours, days, weeks, months and years I had spent devoted and disciplined to dance, not having it play such a central part in my world felt foreign. I was still adapting to the change in my routine.

“What do you say,” Matt turned to look at me, “think we should go back in there and show them how it’s done?”

I hesitated for a moment, still feeling too hot to go back into the sweltering house. “You know, I think I need a few more minutes to recoup.”

Before Matt could respond back, Shayne interjected. “I’ll dance!” she said, her eyes gleaming.

Matt looked taken aback for a split-second, but he recovered quickly. “Let’s do it,” he said, standing back up.

Shayne climbed the stairs with enough spring in her step that she was practically bouncing. She had already downed several beers and a few shots of clear liquid from neon cups, I couldn’t help but wonder how she was even upright. If it were me, I’d be down for the count.

“Promise to come back in?” Matt asked before he left.

I nodded my response, though I was more than ready to call it a night. But I had promised Shayne I wouldn’t bail on her and she had promised me that we wouldn’t stay past two a.m. That was, of course, unless the police busted up the party first, then we were each on our own to get out of there without being caught. I glanced at my phone to check the time, relieved when I discovered it was after midnight. As I slid my phone back in the pocket of my jeans, I realized someone was standing in front of me.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked politely.

He waited for my response before moving an inch. “Sure,” I said, discreetly shifting away from the open area. Not knowing who he was, how intoxicated he might be, or anything else about him, I didn’t want to sit too close, just in case.

I watched from the corner of my eye as he sat down awkwardly on the wooden step, looking somewhat unsteady. Given that he was holding a red cup and judging from the way he was moving his body, I was fairly certain he was drunk. But then he did something I didn’t expect. As he lifted his cup to his mouth, he paused long enough to smell the liquid contents before taking a small sip. His face immediately twisted up in a sour expression and he abruptly set the cup down at his feet.

“That bad, huh?” I asked, trying to suppress my laughter over what I’d just witnessed.

He turned and looked at me, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly to reveal a smirk. “You saw that?”

I shrugged softly, trying not to stare at his mouth. But it was hard, because it was very distracting. “I did,” I admitted.

He let out a short laugh, “Well, that’s embarrassing. I’ll have to learn to be more discreet, especially when I have an audience.”

I liked that he didn’t take offense to my inability to keep my mouth shut. It was, after all, the Covington way. We spoke our minds. Of course, we never intended to hurt someone’s feelings, but sometimes our quick wit and brutal honesty was too much for some people.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I don’t really care for it either,” I said, setting my own cup at me feet.

Turning his body toward me, he smiled at me for the first time. His entire face lit up, even his eyes. As I smiled back at him, I couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he was. Not the earth-shattering perfection so often depicted in the fictional books I had read growing up, but definitely the kind of handsome that took me by surprise and made me take notice.

He was dressed casually, a pair of jeans and simple gray shirt. Even though he was sitting, I could tell he had a muscular frame, much like an athlete’s build. His dark hair was short and looked a little disheveled, part of me wondered if it was post-dance floor hair or if it always looked like that? Either way, I liked it.

“I’m Jonah, by the way.”

The stranger had a name. And it was a good one. Bonus points for him.

“Hailey,” I responded.

“Nice to officially meet you, Hailey.” His eyes held mine longer than they should have.

“Nice to meet you, too, Jonah. Officially.” I said, forcing myself to look away. I still couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not, but at the very least, he was friendly and polite.

“So, what are you doing out here all by yourself, Hailey?”

“Coming up for air, I guess.”

“Too much time on the dance floor, I take it?”

“You could say that,” I confirmed.

“I lost my friend in there awhile ago. He may never be seen again,” he laughed easily. “Ben loves nothing more than a good party.”

“Well, he’d get along great with my roommate, Shayne. Who knows, maybe they’re somewhere, partying together,” I teased. Though I was only half joking.

His expression altered slightly and for a brief moment he almost looked alarmed, but it quickly relaxed into a smile. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, his tone unreadable.

“So, do you belong to this frat?” I asked doubtfully. He didn’t exactly seem like the fraternity type. But I had little experience on the matter, so I really had no idea. Although, most of the guys in attendance were the brothers of Sigma Pi, so it seemed like a safe guess.

“No. Frats definitely aren’t my thing,” he said, shaking his head. “Ben, my missing friend, he actually convinced me to come with him.”

“And what’s your verdict?” I asked, my inquisitive nature taking over.

Jonah processed my question for a moment before answering and I appreciated that. “Well, it’s not exactly what I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, this isn’t exactly where I choose to spend my Friday nights, either.”

“But I can’t complain too much. I did meet this really cool girl who shares my distaste for beer. So, you know, the night’s definitely getting better,” he said, the smirk making an appearance again.

I couldn’t help but giggle softly, despite myself. He could have said just about anything to me in that moment and I would have found it endearing. But I couldn’t let him get away with his cheesy pick up line without saying something about it.

“That was pretty lame,” I said, shaking my head. But I couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across my face. “But I’m flattered anyway.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, “it was pretty lame, wasn’t it?”

I wrinkled my nose, nodding back, “Definitely.” And in that very moment I realized that I wasn’t ready for the night to come to an end just yet.

*  *  *

It was nearly four in the morning. I should have been asleep, but I couldn’t seem to stop staring at the black ceiling above my bed. My mind was as restless as my body, twisting and turning, unable to surrender to sleep.

Sighing heavily, I kicked my feet free of the sheets they were tangled within. I glanced over at Shayne in her bed across from me. There was just enough moonlight coming through the window at the end of our dorm room for me to see her sprawled out on her tummy. She hadn’t moved an inch since she’d passed out there. Given the amount of alcohol she had consumed, I wasn’t surprised at all.

Feeling frustrated, I sat up in bed, crossing my legs beneath me and pressing my back against the wall. Nights like these didn’t happen to me often, so dealing with them was always a bit of a challenge. If I were back home, I would have camped out in the family room with a movie and a pint of ice cream, but I couldn’t exactly do that now that I was living in a dorm.

My night had taken an unexpected turn in a great direction and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. Jonah had proved to be great company, we’d gotten along great and found plenty to talk about. To my surprise, he turned out to be nothing like the rest of the guys at the party and I was genuinely happy that our paths had crossed.

But how we parted ways was eating at me.

I had expected him to ask me for my number, but to my surprise, he didn’t. It was a silly thing for me to be upset about because I wasn’t even sure I would have actually given it to him anyway— but that wasn’t the point. It would have been nice to at least have had the option to accept or decline his request. But the fact that he didn’t ask at all, that was what bothered me most.

And now, there I was, two hours later, dissecting our entire conversation, obsessing over every last detail about him. Wondering where he was at that exact moment and if I had made as strong of an impression on him as he had managed to make on me?

After only an hour together.

Doubtful, I reminded myself, he didn’t ask for your number, remember?

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Want more RECKLESS? Be sure to pre-order a paperback copy today! All pre-orders will be autographed!

RECKLESS releases on July 15th, 2014