Neil releases my hand and fishes in his pocket for his cigarettes.

“You should thank me,” he says in irritation. “You don’t want that girl as your friend. There is something seriously wrong with her.”

My eyes round. “Oh really? How would you know?”

Neil shakes his head in aggravation. “Because Teri is a fucking stalker.  Her circle of friends isn’t much better. They’re in my face all day while I work. They don’t take no for an answer. I’m getting really sick of the co-ed play with the janitor bullshit.”

Really? He’s upset because a whole bunch of girls thinks he’s hot and wants to date him? I erupt into laughter. “Poor, Neil. It’s rough being the super-hot janitor.”

I’m laughing so hard tears are streaming down my face.

Neil stops. “No, it’s not rough. It’s a pain in the ass. They fuck with me so much, it’s going to cost me my job. Teri got me written up the second week of classes. Always hanging around. Trying to chat me up. One of the professors noticed it and informed my supervisor. I can’t lose my job, Chrissie. I don’t want to get into it, but it would seriously fuck up my life to lose my job.”

The fierceness of his voice sobers me instantly. I stop laughing. My laughter-flushed cheeks suddenly feel unpleasant. He’s very serious and very intense right now. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Losing your job. That’s not funny. You’re right.”

He sighs. “Thank you.”

“So what was all that ‘someplace quiet, kiss me’ stuff back at the club?”

Neil rakes a hand through his hair. “I figured if they thought I had a girlfriend, Teri and her clique might let up a little. It’s worth a shot. Talking to them doesn’t work. Ignoring them doesn’t work. Maybe if they thought I was unavailable they’ll go away finally.”

Suspicion leaps through my veins, followed by anger. “Is that why you’ve been nice to me? Making sure we ran into each other here. Popping up out of nowhere. You want them to think I’m your girlfriend so they back off?”

His expression tells me he knows how lame that sounds. “Not entirely. I like hanging out with you. You’re different than most girls. No drama. No bullshit. I figure if it also helps get rid of Teri, what’s the harm.”

My eyes widen in surprise. I’m a tad less angry with him. I fish in my pocket for my keys. I stop at my car and unlock the doors.

“A Volvo?” Neil teases.

Jeez, why does everyone say that? “Rene and I drove it across the country. My dad wanted us in something safe.”

He shrugs. “It’s a nice one. Top of the line. 760. Turbo. Leather. Fully loaded. Even if it is a Volvo.”

I roll my eyes. What is it with guys knowing everything about cars, even Volvos?

“Where am I dropping you?” I ask.

“Just drop me at your place. I can walk from there.”

OK, so why doesn’t he want me to take him home?  What’s up with that? I sink down into the driver’s seat, close the door, and buckle my seatbelt. Neil settles in the front beside me.

I’m about to put the key in the ignition.

“I want you to know, I’m not using you,” he says, quiet and sincere.

My lids go wide. “Did I say something?”

His green eyes fix intently on my face. “Just so we’re clear. I hang out with you because you’re OK. I wouldn’t if I didn’t think that you were an OK girl.”

I turn the key and put the car in gear. “Wow. I’m OK. It’s exactly what us girls hope to be.”

He gives me a stare, shakes his head, rolls down the window and lights a cigarette in my car without asking. I should probably say something, but I don’t. Rene smokes in it too when she borrows it. She doesn’t think I know. And it is definitely not as bad as knowing she’s had sex in both the Volvo and my dad’s car.

Neil sits beside me, quietly smoking, staring out at the city lights as we cross the Bay Bridge. Jeez, he’s a frustrating guy and really hard to read. He’s full of coded messages, 24/7. That last one says friends; don’t expect more.  I wonder what Neil has going on in the girl department. I can understand him not being interested in Teri and her mob. Even working as a music department janitor, he’s so out of their league.

Some guys have it. Some guys don’t. Neil Stanton was born a babe magnet.

We’re almost back to Berkeley, when I smile and say, “Just so you know, Neil, I’m not using you either. I’m letting you ride in the Volvo because I think you’re OK.”

CHAPTER THREE

The practice room door opens and in pops Neil’s face.

“Do you mind if I crash in here and eat my lunch?”

I look up from my book. “Why do you ask? You always ask and I always say yes. Knock yourself out, Neil. The floor is all yours.”

He crosses the room and settles on the ground with his legs stretched out crossed in front of him, and his back against the wall. He sets his bag beside him and pulls out a sandwich.

“What are you reading?” He starts unwrapping his sandwich.

I don’t look up. “History of the 60s. I have a final tomorrow.”

Neil laughs. “Considering who your dad is you probably don’t have to read that.  I bet you know more about the 60s than the professor. Why bother?”

I smile and don’t answer. I bother because I’m nearly failing this class.

I try to return my focus to my book. He takes from his bag a container of orange juice and starts to shake it. I don’t know why, but it’s impossible to study whenever Neil is here. I slap the text book shut and shove it back into my bag.

He pulls off the top of the juice and takes a long swallow.  “How many instruments do you play?”

“Six.”

“Do you play the violin?”

“Yep.” What’s with the twenty questions today? Neil hardly ever asks me anything about me.

He reaches into his bag, removes some chips, and rips them open. “I’m working on some new material. I’ve been laying down the tracks for a demo. Some of the music tracks I’m recording. I thought I might want to put strings on one if you’re up for that.”

That he asks me surprises me. He’s never even heard me play. He doesn’t even know if I’m good.

“Sure. Why not. Just let me know when and where.”

He lifts his keys from his belt and gives them a shake. “Keys to everything. It’s an afterhours thing. Way afterhours. The rooms here don’t usually clear out until nearly midnight.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get caught?”

He shakes his head. “I know my way around this campus better than you do.”

I roll my eyes.

He laughs. Then he gives a quizzical stare. “Why are you at Berkeley? Why study music? Why don’t you try to get something going for yourself? Record.”

I shrug. I did record once. With Alan. I push that thought from my mind and say, “I’m thinking I might want to teach music. My dad has a foundation for children in South Central LA. I’ll probably work there once I graduate. I figured I should know what I’m doing before I try to teach children.”

“Might. Probably. Doesn’t sound to me like you know what you want to do or why you’re here.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, then says, “I spent one summer at your dad’s foundation. Scholarship. I was twelve. It was a fucking unbelievable summer program. Never met Jack though. Some of the other kids did. Not me.” He shakes his head. “Rich people. Only rich people get over-priced educations so they can take a job that doesn’t pay anything.”

I make a face at him. “Teaching is an important profession.”

“Teaching for free is a hobby.” He shoves the wrapping from his sandwich into his bag. “Jared asked about us.”

I flush. Jared has shown some interest in me, but he hardly speaks to me, for all Neil said a month ago that Jared was working his way up to asking me out. I’ve been thinking I’d go if Jared asks, but he never asks.

“What did he want to know?” I inquire, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Wanted to know if you were available.”