Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,42

earlier. Nice, nice, nice.

Except nice guys didn’t tell their girlfriends how much they loved them, how crazy about them they were—didn’t ask their girlfriends to marry them, for God’s sake—then go away for the winter break and return completely changed. Never answer a phone call, avoid any attempts to speak in person, and finally, because Sarah obviously hadn’t gotten the message, grabbing the ass of that very willing second-year he pulled into a dark corner of the library with him, and pressing her against the wall and grinding up against her while he explored her mouth and her breasts, knowing Sarah stood only ten feet away because she finally tracked him down.

And it wasn’t just that one. In the five months they had left of school, Sarah saw him with two, three, four different girls. Maybe there were even more—those were just the ones he made a point of kissing in front of her, until Sarah did everything in her power to stay as far out of his range as she could so she never had to witness any of it again.

And meanwhile her heart became molten metal, pooling at the bottom of her lungs, then freezing again, then breaking into shards at the slightest reminder of anything he’d said, any way he touched her, anything she had ever felt for him. Her last semester of law school passed like a fog, blotting out everything but what she had to do this minute, this class, then go home and not think about him, go to sleep and not remember him, go to school the next morning and never, ever look his way.

At graduation she braced to hear his name, then purposely stared at her program while he took the long walk to receive his diploma. When it was her turn, she kept her eyes locked on the dean, afraid that if she glanced even a fraction of an inch to the side, she might see Joe there in his cap and gown and realize this was it, she never had to see him again anywhere. California was a huge state. The chances of ever running into him again were small. She would be safe, if she could just make it through that one last day.

But her eyes were too used to finding him. So even though Sarah had done everything she could to spare herself, still her gaze shifted just enough to see him off in the distance after the ceremony, standing with his father and brother, all three of them hugging, his father crying.

Tears burned Sarah’s own eyes as she turned back to her parents and let them tell her again how proud they were of her.

“Come on,” she said, taking her mother by the arm and leading them both away. “Let’s go eat Mom’s pie.”

When what she really wanted to do was get drunk.

Seventeen

Joe pulled in to the Snowbird ski area and found a parking spot at the end of a long row. The ski area had already opened the week before, and Sarah could see figures up on the mountain zigzagging their way down.

She traded her sneakers for the boots, then stepped out of the car onto the cold ground. The air felt so dry it was almost powdery. It seeped between the threads of her clothes like fine dust, making her wish she wore at least one more, thicker layer.

“Here,” Joe said, reading her mind and taking off his coat.

“No, you should wear that.”

“Sarah, you don’t have to fight me on everything, you know.” He helped her into the roomy coat, which really did feel wonderful, she had to admit. It reached down to middle of her thighs, blocking out the wind. She rolled the sleeves up, then put her gloves back on.

“Hot chocolate?” Joe asked.

“Sounds good.” Now that they were somewhere else, somewhere unusual and new, Sarah found she could speak again. Any minute she would feel like herself again, and regain her footing with Joe. But right now she still felt like she was catching up.

They trudged up to the base area where there were rental shops and restaurants. Joe pointed to one with outside seating. “Will you be warm enough?” he asked.

“We’ll see,” Sarah answered. Joe left her at one of the picnic tables while he went inside to buy their drinks.

He returned with a cup of hot cocoa topped with an enormous mound of whipped cream.

“Oh,” Sarah said. “I don’t really do that anymore.”

With anyone else, she might have worried about hurting