Thrill Ride Read online

  “Hello?”

  “Hey! Is this Jordan’s room?”

  “No, this is her roommate.” I don’t know what possessed me to toss out a smart comment, but the guy laughed.

  “Pretty funny! Is she there?”

  “Nope.”

  “Can I leave a message?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just tell her, ‘Cole loves ya.’”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks.”

  He hung up. I reached down, grabbed my backpack, set it on my bed, and pulled out my decision-maker. Compared to modern technology, my decision-maker was pretty old-fashioned: a spiral notebook where I list the pros and cons for any major decision, so that I always make wise and informed choices. It’s kind of an obsession with me. Sarah is always telling me that I take it to the extreme, but I believe in looking at all the options.

  I turned to the last page, jerked out a blank sheet of paper, and wrote, “Cole called.” No way was I going to get into delivering really personal messages about love. I folded the paper in half and set it on the edge of her desk, tucking a corner beneath her iPod speakers.

  Obviously, my roomie had a boyfriend. I wondered if he was here. I thought about how nice it was that he’d called her, and it made me miss Nick more.

  Nick was the absolute best. We had so much in common—went to the same high school, excelled in the same subjects, had the same friends. One night we’d all gone to the movies together. As usual Nick was sitting beside me. And, I don’t know. The movie wasn’t that good. Okay, it was really pretty terrible. And Nick leaned over and said exactly what I was thinking: We’ll never get these hundred and twenty minutes of our lives back. And when I turned to reply, his face was so close to mine…

  I didn’t remember moving toward him, or him moving toward me. But suddenly we were kissing, and we’d been an item ever since. And we were going to remain an item even though we would be far apart. Me, up north on a great lake. Him down south in Texas.

  We had e-mail and instant messaging and text messaging and our cell phones—we could manage.

  Couldn’t we? Sure we could. No sweat.

  I was reaching for my cell phone to call him when the phone on the desk rang again. I almost let it ring, but in the end, I didn’t have the willpower to deny the siren’s call.

  “Hello.”

  Silence. Great.

  “Helllloooo?” I repeated.

  “Sorry. Are you Jordan’s roommate?”

  Okay, I was starting to hate my roomie now. Another guy? And this one…oh my gosh, he had a voice like Brad Pitt, Orlando Bloom, and Colin Farrell all rolled into one. It just sent a shiver of pleasure through me. Really strange. I never reacted that way to a guy’s voice. Not even Nick’s. But this one…deep, smooth, just a little—

  “You still there?” he asked.

  I was totally embarrassed. I swallowed, cleared my throat. “Sorry. I got distracted watching the boats on the lake.”

  Yeah, right, Megan. “Uh, yes, I’m her roommate. She’s not here. Did you want to leave a message?”

  Even though my roommate was obviously an inconsiderate jerk, I wasn’t going to stoop to that level. Sarah would be proud of me. She was always advising me not to get caught up in pettiness. Although I’d learned long ago that what she usually meant was, don’t argue with me.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly sexy voice?”

  I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Had he said what I thought he had? First of all, my voice is not sexy. It’s kind of raspy-sounding. Nick told me once that I sounded like his Aunt Carolyn who smoked cigarettes. Hardly flattering.

  I knew this guy must be a major player. He was coming on to me and he didn’t even know me. What a creep! The fact that I was thinking the same thing about his voice only seconds earlier didn’t lessen my irritation with him. What kind of guy calls for one girl and flirts with another?

  Jerk!

  “Do you want to leave a message?” I asked, impatiently.

  “What’s your name?”

  “My name?”

  “Yeah. I bet it’s as intriguing as your voice.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Let me be the judge. What is it?”

  “Is that the message you want to leave for Jordan? That you want to be a judge?”

  He laughed. Big mistake to make him laugh because the deep rumble shimmered down to my toes and made them curl. Laughter never made my toes react. This was too totally strange.

  “Come on, what’s the big secret? Is it something embarrassing maybe? Millicent?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No.”

  “Bambi?”

  I ground my teeth together. “No.”

  “Come on. There’s no way it’s as bad as my name.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask. Parker.”

  I scowled. His name wasn’t bad at all. Had he tricked me into expressing an interest in him?

  “So I can tell her Parker called?”

  “Who’s going to tell her?”

  I swear I heard him smile. I know that’s impossible, but it sure sounded like a smile in his voice. I relented.

  “Megan.”

  “I like it.”

  “My mom would be thrilled to know she has your seal of approval.”

  He laughed again. It was an infectious laugh. It made me want to laugh with him, but I was so not going to play his game.

  “Look, I’m really busy here,” I said.

  “Watching the boats?”

  “Unpacking.”

  “We could watch them together.”

  “Do you not listen? I’m unpacking.”

  “So you just got there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Met Jordan yet?”

  “Not in person, no.”

  “But you see evidence of her personality?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Let me guess. Clothes everywhere. Looks like a tornado ripped through the room.”

  “Sorta. Look, I really need to go.”

  “Gotcha. It was nice to meet you.”

  “We didn’t actually meet.”

  “Close enough. Just tell Jordan I called.”

  “I will.”

  I hung up, grabbed the piece of paper with her previous message, scrawled another name, and set it back in place. I was obviously rooming with Miss Popularity.

  Already, I regretted taking my chances with a roommate. Not that I really had any other choice. I didn’t know anyone who was working at the amusement park, and even if I had managed to convince Nick to join me, the dorm policies prohibited girls and guys from sharing a room.

  The questionnaire I’d completed requesting a room had asked only one question regarding roommate preference: Do you smoke?

  So all I really knew about Jordan was that she didn’t smoke, and she was a slob, a guy magnet, and from Los Angeles. Not exactly resounding endorsements.

  I walked to the window and looked out onto the lake. I could see the boats that I’d fibbed about watching: sailboats and speed boats. People were spread out on blankets and beach towels on the sand near the water, absorbing the last rays of the late May sun. The next weekend would kick off the summer and the theme park would go into high gear. Right now the park opened late in the morning and closed at seven in the evening. This week was training for the new employees.

  The door suddenly sprang open. I whipped around.

  And there was my roommate. Had to be. She was way shorter than me, maybe five-five to my five-nine. She had short, cropped hair the color of a midnight sky and sapphire blue eyes.

  “Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, moving into the room like a strong wind was pushing her. “I’d planned to get back and get everything cleaned up, but then Ross wanted to go to the lake, and I couldn’t find my bathing suit.”

  And who was Ross? Guy number three?

  She dropped two large shopping bags on her