“Yeah,” Shay said, pulling the speaker out of her purse, “you sounded upset in all those ALL CAPS texts.”
“I’m just freaking out a bit.” I gathered my courage and told them. “Xander hasn’t come back here in two whole days.”
Shay gasped. “He’s on a fuck spree.”
“I mean, I don’t know, but one can only assume.”
“That slut,” she said.
“I hate him.” I gulped my drink and tried to ignore the look my friends gave each other.
“I feel like we’re missing a piece of this story,” Angie said, eying me. “Something happened.”
“I made out with him.” I whispered it, like my brother might overhear me. I knew he couldn’t, unless he was hiding in the bushes right behind me. I glanced back; obviously, he wasn’t there.
“You. Absolute. Slut,” Shayla said—with delight. “I knew you were into him.”
“Uh-oh,” Larissa said, and she seemed to brace herself. “Did he… punch your V-card…?”
“Please tell me he punched your V-card,” Shayla moaned. “Tell me he ripped that thing to fucking shreds.”
“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “Why do you always have to be so… graphic?”
Shay shrugged and sipped her drink. “It’s a talent.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” Larissa pointed out.
“You didn’t,” Shay agreed. “We need to know, like right now, if you’re still a virgin.”
“And what Xander’s like in bed…” Angie added.
“I don’t know what he’s like in bed. I mean, we made out in his bed… but then he got up and left. And he hasn’t talked to me since. We didn’t even get to the sex part.”
“Damn,” Shay said.
“He left?” Larissa gaped at me. “In the middle of making out?”
“Yup.” I groaned. “You guys. Why is it so hard to get a guy to screw me?”
Shay snorted.
“Don’t laugh at me!” I laughed and flung cheesy poofs at her.
Okay, I knew my friends were kinda entitled to laugh. They were all older than me, and they’d all had actual sex with a real, live man. Or a few.
I’d probably laugh at me if I were them.
“Okay…” Angie said, snacking on a cheesy poof, “before this gets depressing. We need a drinking game.”
“Oh, yum,” Shay concurred. She pulled a bottle of blueberry port from her purse.
“What, do you carry one of those around at all times now?” I watched her pull out some little plastic shot cups and line them up on the table between us.
“Nope,” she said, pouring out shots. “I carry two.”
“We’re shooting port?” Angie said.
“Blueberry port.” Shay handed out the shots. “And you can sip it, if you’ve gotta be a funwrecker. But that’s on you. I’m going all in.” And with that, she shot hers back.
“We didn’t even start the game yet,” Larissa protested.
Shay shrugged. “You gotta have one to warm up. You know, lube the pipes.”
I looked at Angie. She shrugged.
We drank our blueberry port. It was delicious, but it definitely wasn’t meant to be shot back like that. I shuddered a little.
We all passed our cups back to Shay.
“Okay,” she said, refilling them. “Rules of the game?”
“We drink every time Shay says ‘dick’ or ‘tits,’” Angie said. “You’re obsessed with tits,” she informed Shay.
“Because tits are awesome,” Shay said. “Just like dicks.”
“And each time Courteney says ‘ew’ to something you say,” Larissa added.
“Sounds good to me.” A grin spread across Shay’s face as all the disgusting things she might say to try to gross me out spun through her mind.
“Great,” I said.
“Okay, let’s brainstorm this Xander issue.” Shay studied me like I was some lab specimen. “He walked out on you, right? So, next time, you should tie him down and just have your way with him.”
I wrinkled my nose and definitely started to say Ew—but caught myself. “That sounds… rapey.”
“Not if he’s into it.”
“Why would he be into it? He keeps leaving the room whenever I touch him.”
“Hmm,” Angie said. “But you said he got hard for you, right? You were talking about him when you messaged us last night?”
“Yeah. That was him. Hard as rock,” I whispered, still paranoid that my brother might somehow overhear this shit.
“So… his brain is fighting what his body wants him to do,” Angie concluded.
“Yup,” Shay agreed. “You need to override his defenses with a full frontal assault.”
“Is this a rape thing again?”
“I meant, you go full frontal. On him. Flash him your tits or something. Guys can’t resist the tits—”
“You said tits!” Angie said. “Twice.”
“In one breath,” Larissa added. “That’s one shot.”
“Fine,” Shay said. “Funwrecker.” Then we all put back our port.
I shuddered again.
“Shit, this stuff is delicious,” Angie said, as Shay refilled us all.
“I’m telling you. Go with the breasts,” Shay said, carefully avoiding the word tits. “Guys can’t resist them. No matter what his brain is telling him.”
“Yeah, but I already put them in his face. Like you told me to. When I was wearing a bikini. It didn’t work.”
“What do you mean it didn’t work?”
“He got up and left. That’s all he ever does. He just walks away.”
“Then you need to do something he can’t walk away from,” Larissa said.
“And what would that be…? Please tell me. I’m all ears.”
“Hmm…” Larissa seemed to be thinking it over.
“Tits,” Shayla said with authority.
“Drink!” Angie said.
We all drank.
“I’m telling you,” Shay pressed. “But none of this bikini stuff. This situation calls for nudity.”
I groaned as I passed my cup back for a refill. “I’m gonna die a horny virgin.”
“Trust me,” Shay said, pouring and passing out fresh shots. “Has he even seen you naked yet?”
“No.”
“So there you go. Show him the nips. No way he walks away from that. If he does, then you really do need to give up on him, because the man is gay or something.”
“He’s not gay.”
“I think the verdict is still out on that,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. And giggled, for no real reason.
Well… blueberry port.
And vodka lemonade.
“What about dirty talk?” Larissa said. “You could tell him how much you want him.”
“Already tried,” I said. “Didn’t work.”
“Really?” Angie said.
“You could sext him,” Shay suggested. “Write it out. Guys love getting sexy texts.”
“Why would he want a sexy text?” I took a swig of my vodka lemonade. “I told him in person and he walked out.”
“Ouch,” Angie said.
“You could send him porn.” That was Shay again. The girl was just full of ideas.
“No!” I sputtered, laughing.
“Did you know they have programs so powerful now that you can put someone’s face onto a porn and it looks real?” she said. “Like you could put your face on a chick who’s blowing some guy with a huge dick, and you could put his face on the guy—”
“Oh my God,” I choked. “No.”
“You said dick!” Angie shouted, belatedly.
I snorted.
“Oh, shit.” Shayla slugged her shot back and I laughed.
We all drank. Shay started kinda dancing in her seat as she poured refills, slopping blueberry port on the table. “This is fun!”
“I got it,” Angie said. “What about doing, like, a strip tease for him? You’re a great da
ncer.”
“Veto!” I cried. “He’d just walk out. That would be like the ultimate in humiliation.”
“You’re all overthinking this,” Shayla said. “Just show him the damn nips.”
I snicker-snorted. “Stop saying nips!”
“Nips nips nips!” Shay sang.
“Stop!” I collapsed back on my chair, giggling. I was laughing so much, tears were starting to leak out the corners of my eyes.
“I think she might be right about the nips,” Angie said, ultra seriously. Too seriously. It totally cracked me up. “You’ve got great nips,” she said solemnly, and that really did it.
“Stop… saying… nips! I can’t take it.”
“Niiiips!!” Shay got up, turned the music up and started dancing. “And by the way, you really need to stop wearing that cupcake necklace.”
“What? Why?”
“Because. Every time Xander sees it on you, it’s just a reminder. You know, that you’re his friend’s baby sister.”
“That’s true,” Larissa said.
“Ugh. I guess… And by the way,” I asked Angie, “when have you ever seen my nipples?”
Angie shrugged, sipping her vodka lemonade. “I haven’t. But you’ve got great boobs. They go together.”
That had me laughing again, like a hyena. There was a terrible stitch in the side of my gut. “Oh my God.” I mopped my tears off my face with my sleeve. “Okay. How do I show him the nips if he’s not even here? For all I know I’ll never see him again.”
“Here’s what you do,” Shay said. “You send him a naked selfie.”
I sobered up a bit. “I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. It’s… slutty.”
“Exactly.” Shay came and stood over me. “You need him to stop seeing you as his friend’s kid sister—Little Miss Cupcake the blessed virgin. And start seeing you as a dead sexy bitch he’s gonna die if he doesn’t get to fuck. Send him a pic and tell him exactly what you want in like five words or less. Problem solved. If he doesn’t respond to that… the man is a lost cause.”
I looked over at Angie and Larissa.
“She’s right,” Larissa said. “You can’t chase him forever.”
“He’s either gonna get with you…” Angie said, gazing at me with sympathy, “or just keep breaking your heart.”
“He’s not breaking my heart,” I said, looking away.
None of my friends said anything.
I found the cupcake on the chain around my neck and squeezed it in my hand as I lay there, looking up at the dark sky. I lay there for a long time as everything got kinda bleary and the music thumped, and my girlfriends danced around above me.
At some point, Angie tried to make me join them, but I just stayed where I was. When she left for her date, she kissed me and hugged me goodbye right where I lay.
“Have fun,” I said.
“And don’t forget to show him the nips!” Shay called after her.
I giggled, and held up my cup for more blueberry port.
* * *
“I’m going in,” Shay said, and her words pulled me from my daze.
“No, no, no,” Larissa said.
By the time I dragged myself up to a sitting position, Larissa was standing alone by the path in the trees, the one that led to the house, and Shayla was gone.
“What happened?” I said.
Larissa turned to me. “Um. Shayla just went in the house.”
I stared at her blankly.
“To look for your brother.”
I was on my feet in an instant, though I stumbled a little finding my way through the lounge chairs. I whacked my knee on one of them. “Ouch! Fuck! Where did she go?”
“Um. Just… in the house,” Larissa repeated.
I tore past her, up the little path through the trees and in through the French doors to the living room.
“Shayla!” I hissed, but there was no sign of her as I hurried through the room.
I caught up to her in the hall.
She was wiggling the doorknobs on the double doors into my brother’s studio. It was locked, of course.
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m going in,” she said. Then she turned and strut away.
I followed at her heels.
“Shay, what are you doing?” I repeated.
“I just want to say hi.” She grabbed one of the dining room chairs and dragged it into the kitchen. She stood it in front of the fridge, climbed up onto it, and opened the cupboard above the fridge.
“Shayla! Do not.”
“Just relax,” she said, as she fished around in the cupboard. Then she pulled out the little jar that had the key in it, the one that would unlock the studio door. The one that was stashed there just in case of an emergency.
The one I’d made the mistake of telling my girlfriends about.
She hopped down from the chair, key in hand, and actually smiled at me. “Who knows how long it’s been since he had female company. Maybe he’ll be happy to see me.”
Then she walked right past me, back up the hall to the studio door.
I followed her. “Shay. Don’t go in there.”
She slid the key into the lock and turned. She was definitely going in there. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Okay, just… don’t tell him I told you about that key…!” I hissed after her, but then the door shut and she was gone.
Shit.
I knocked on the soundproofed door, but obviously, Shay didn’t open it. No one could hear me knocking on the other side.
I tried the knob.
Locked.
“Bitch,” I muttered to myself.
I felt Larissa tiptoe up behind me. I turned to her and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Did she really….?” She glanced at the door behind me.
“You know she did.”
“Sorry. I would’ve stopped her if—”
“Whatever. No one could stop her.”
I headed into the foyer and straight to the stairs. “Are you okay?” Larissa called after me.
“I’m fine!”
I stomped up to my room and slammed the door behind myself. And locked it.
I flopped on my bed. The room spun a little and my head was kinda ringing. All the booze was making everything fuzzy and gross.
My phone beeped, and I dug it out of the pocket of my hoodie.
Larissa: I’ll call a cab. Unless you want me to stay?
I texted her back.
Me: I just want to be alone.
Larissa: I’m sorry babe. Call me later ok?
Me: Ok
I tossed the phone aside on my bed.
Then I picked it up and checked it. No messages from Xander.
I tossed it aside again. And fumed.
And maybe pouted a bit.
After a while, though, it occurred to me I was more pissed at Shayla because I was jealous she had the balls to do what she just did, than I was about her actually doing it.
Argghhhh.
I rolled over and buried my face in a pillow. I breathed into it, deep, until it was kinda hard to breathe. Then I rolled back over and stared at the ceiling, willing it not to wobble around so much.
What was going on down there?
Were Shay and my brother making out or something…?
If it was up to her, they would be. For sure.
Or was Cary mad that she’d gotten in there? Used that key?
Would he be mad at me?
I lay there in a total funk. Upset. Confused. Angry.
Jealous.
Then I gathered some liquid courage. Or maybe some who-gives-a-shit-anyway. And peeled off my shirt.
And my bra.
Alcohol really was the devil’s concoction, because damn, it made you want to do bad things—and not care about the consequences.
Very bad things.
This was a bad idea, right?
I went to the drawer
where I kept my bras and dug through… for the sexiest one I owned. Baby-pink, lacy and skimpy.
I put it on, arranging my boobs in it. I looked in the mirror over the dresser, checking myself out. The cupcake between my breasts sparkled, catching my eye.
I slipped the necklace off, hanging it on the corner of the mirror.
Then I picked up my phone.
I opened the camera app and switched it to selfie mode. I held it out in front of me and tried to center it on my boobs in my pink bra.
I couldn’t see my face… but I could kinda see my nipples through the lace.
Show him the nips…
Ugh. Was I really doing this?
I squeezed my nipples a bit to make them hard. I wasn’t going naked like Shay told me to. But this bra left very little to the imagination… and still made me feel kinda sexy instead of like a total whore.
I took a bunch of shots, until I got kinda comfortable with it and managed to take one that seemed okay. One that I thought I could actually send.
I’d always told myself if I really needed him, Xander would be here for me. He’d come if I called.
Maybe I needed to believe that, to survive everything I had.
But I’d never put that theory to the test. Because I was afraid that if I did, I’d find out I was wrong—and every fantasy I’d ever had about my tattooed prince would crumble for once and for all.
I was so scared of that, I didn’t even try.
But, to be fair, I didn’t even let him be nice to me when he tried, either.
So I opened Snapchat and sent him the pic, along with five words.
I need you right now.
Chapter Fourteen
Xander
I want you to be my first…
I want you to do with me what you do with those other girls…
It had been forty-eight hours since Courteney said those words to me.
And for forty-eight hours, I’d been going fucking mental.
At least it wasn’t an uneventful two days.
I’d been playing drums. I’d been shopping. I’d taken my mom and dad out to dinner and caught them up about everything going on in my life—you know, besides the fact that I was trying not to fuck Cary’s eighteen-year-old virgin sister—which I made sure to do at least once a month when I was home from the road. They were proud of me, so at least there was that.
Filthy Beautiful: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2) Page 20
