Mario shakes his head. His gelled blond hair holds perfectly in place and I run a hand through mine, wondering if I look as rough as I feel. “Nah, nothing like that. One of the girls on the volleyball team is some sort of heiress.”
“Freshman?”
“Transfer. Got busted for buying her way into school in California.”
An heiress at Valley? Buying her way into college? My brows pull down in disbelief.
“I think that’s her over there in the red dress.” Mario looks over my shoulder, and I turn to face that direction.
She’d be easy to spot even if she weren’t wearing a dress the color of a fire engine, but as it is, there’s absolutely no way to miss her. Long, tan legs and blonde hair that hangs in loose waves, she looks more California surfer girl than rich bitch.
She’s the only person at this event standing by herself. She’s holding a glass in one hand, perfectly poised and put together but slouched like she’s given up any pretense of pretending to have a good time.
“She’s hot. Hot enough I’d let her be my sugar momma,” Clark, one of the guys standing nearby, says as he steps into our conversation.
“I’d give twenty bucks to see you try,” Mario says with a shake of his head.
Clark tips his beer to Mario’s and clinks the bottles together. “You’re on.”
“This should be entertaining.”
I nod in agreement and watch as Clark weaves through people to get to Surfer Princess. He tosses a smirk back our direction when he’s a few paces from her and then goes for it.
She’s tall and the heels she has on make it so that I can see over Clark’s big head and watch her expression as he gives what I can only imagine is the worst pickup line ever. Clark is a good guy but about as smooth as a cat’s tongue.
A hint of a smile overshadows the slight discomfort I detect as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Her lips move in response to Clark and then she lifts her drink and takes a sip.
I can pinpoint the exact moment things go horribly wrong for ole Clark, though I haven’t a clue what he could have said to have the girl in front of him bristle in such a dramatic way I can spot it from twenty yards. Her mouth draws into a tight line as she nods and then takes off. She doesn’t even wait for Clark to move, just pushes past him and hightails it to the far side of the party.
“Crash and burn.” Mario chuckles as Clark turns back to face us wearing a sheepish grin and shrugs.
I laugh along with him, but I can’t shake the horrible day to offer a real one. I need more booze and maybe a lobotomy. “I’m gonna get some air.”
“We’re outside, man.”
I’m already two steps away when I respond, “Air other people aren’t breathing.”
I get stopped no less than five times, get forced into a photo with the team, and spend twenty painful minutes talking to an alumnus who has food stuck in his teeth before I can slip away from the party.
I pull the flask I stashed in my pocket and unscrew the cap. The burn of liquor is fresh on my lips when I spot her. She’s double-fisting it now, champagne in both hands as she leans against the side of Ray Fieldhouse. It’s the side entrance, only accessible with a badge given to staff and student-athletes.
Surfer Princess is hiding, not that I blame her. If the baseball guys knew about her, that means everyone else does too or will shortly.
She stills when she sees me, her haven invaded. Taking a step like she’s going to leave, I stop her. I’m not sure why, except she seems like the only person who might be having a shittier night than I am. “You don’t have to run off. You have dibs, being here first and all. I’ll just kick rocks.”
To my back, she says, “Wait.”
Color me surprised, I turn back to her, and she shifts uncomfortably on her tall heels. “Got something good in that flask?”
I shake my head. “Nah, it’s not good.” I close some of the distance between us and hold it out to her in invitation. “But it’s effective.”
She walks slowly until she’s within an arm’s length away. Up close, she’s even more beautiful, which seems like it should be impossible because she looked pretty damn good from a distance. She hands me one of the flutes, takes the flask, puts it to her lips, and tips it back without so much as a sniff or sip to test it first. She’s taken a healthy amount before she hands it back, eyes closed, and mouth twisted in displeasure. “You’re right on both counts.”
“Damn.” I take another, much smaller, drink. Who is this chick? I mean, I know who she is, but… damn. “That was impressive.”
“You say that now, but I might be sleeping right here tonight.” She shudders and coughs. “What was that?”
“Mostly Everclear. Little bit of Mountain Dew.”
“It tastes like rubbing alcohol.” She holds her hand out for the flask despite her obvious dislike for it.
“One hundred and twenty proof.”
She takes another drink.
“Go easy.”
When she hands the flask back this time, I pocket it. I know my limits, but I’m not sure she does. Lifting the champagne flute I’ve been holding for her, I ask, “This one for me?”
She shrugs. “Seems fair, I guess.”
I take a seat on the bottom step, one of three that leads up to the door. The sun just went down and there’s a nice breeze. I don’t know this girl, but this is the most at ease I’ve felt all day.
“Hiding from anyone in particular?”
“No. I’m hiding from everyone.”
“I feel that.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Did Bri send you over here to mess with me?”
“Who’s Bri?”
She sighs and takes a seat next to me. “Roommate, teammate, captain, arch-nemesis.”
“Bad combo.”
“Who are you hiding from?”
“Myself. Everyone. No one.” I drain the rest of the bubbly in my glass and pull out my cigarettes. “You mind?”
She gives her head a little shake and watches as I light up.
“You want one?” I ask after I take my first drag and feel her eyes still on me.
“No. I just haven’t seen anyone smoke in… forever. You know what those things do to your lungs, right?”
I chuckle.
“Guess that rules out track.”
“What’s that?” I ask. Glancing over at her, my gaze is drawn to her green eyes—the color of summertime in northern Michigan where I grew up.
“I was trying to guess which sport you played.”
“Not track,” I confirm.
“Baseball?”
“Nope.”
“Football? Quarterback maybe?”
I shake my head. “I could just tell you.”
“What fun is that?”
My soft chuckle lingers between us, and we smile back at one another. It’s the first real smile to come from me all day. I put the cigarette in my mouth and extend my hand. “Nathan.”
“Chloe.”
4
Chloe
“Wanna tell me why your roommate hates you or do you want me to guess?” Nathan leans back on an elbow, his long jean-clad legs splayed out in front of him. Most of the athletes here tonight are dressed up, but he pulls off the dark jeans and black t-shirt like he’s red carpet ready.
I shift my weight, giving one butt cheek a reprieve from the hard ground. We’ve been sharing information for the better part of two hours, or rather, we’ve been trying to guess information about the other. So far, I haven’t learned much, but he’s been surprisingly accurate in his assessment of me.
He takes my silence as an indication I want him to guess.
“You slept with her boyfriend?”
“Oh, my God, no, of course not.” I laugh, and he joins in.
“Kidding.” He considers me for a moment, his blue eyes scrutinizing me in such detail, I feel the blush creep up my face. “She’s jealous of you.”
“No.” I roll my eyes at the thought
of Bri being jealous of anyone. She’s captain of the team, she’s beautiful, she seems well-liked, if not a tiny bit feared. It’s more like the other way around. I’m jealous of her. Of her position on the team—one she earned—and the respect and friendship of her teammates. Our teammates. I’m jealous that she doesn’t have to start over with a new college, different city, and an altered perception of the past three years.
“You’re gorgeous. In my experience, that’s all it really takes for other chicks to be jealous.”
“That’s not it,” I say more adamantly. He cocks a brow like he doesn’t believe me. “I got kicked out of my last school for fraud or bribery. Honestly, I’m not sure what the official ruling was.”
I cannot believe I just told him that. Maybe he already knew. That douchebag who tried to hit on me earlier with some sugar momma pick up line certainly did. Nathan’s face gives nothing away. He doesn’t speak so I keep going.
“I didn’t know. Not that it seems to matter to anyone, but I had no idea it’s how I got into college. Anyway, I’m pretty sure that’s why Bri hates me. She thinks I don’t deserve to be here or maybe she just doesn’t like having someone with a scarlet letter on her precious team.”
I slam my lips shut to keep from blubbering on, but he’s looking at me so intently, I can’t not say more. “I’m sorry, I’ve totally ruined the moment.”
I go silent again and stare down at my hands, wishing I could sink right into the concrete.
“I might have heard something about that floating around earlier,” he says. Screw sinking into the concrete, I want to run far, far away. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I ask, meeting his gaze and finding it sincere.
“Yeah, I know all about screwing up. It changes the way people treat you. Doesn’t matter your culpability or even the reasons behind what you did—they only see how it affects them.”
“Thank you.” Something like shock or relief washes over me at his understanding.
One side of his mouth pulls into an awkward smile, and he shrugs like it’s no big deal, but it means everything to me. Absolution, even from a near stranger, brings a little more of my old confidence to the surface.
“I bet you get along with your roommates.” I check his face to see if I’m right and he nods.
“Off-campus?”
Another nod.
“Okay, tell me something real about you since I just unloaded all my baggage.”
His body visibly tenses, and I’m afraid I’ve ruined the mood for good this time. We’re in this bubble, partially alcohol-induced, but I haven’t felt like this in a long time.
Finally, he smirks and lifts the flask. He’s run to get us fresh drinks twice, but we’re down to just the ridiculously strong liquor again. “I’m gonna need more booze soon.”
“I’m serious.” I shove at his shoulder playfully, but the contact makes me intensely aware of the heat of his skin and the hum coursing through my veins.
“I’m really having a good time. Been the best part of my day.” He sits up and brings his flask to his lips, tips it all the way up and then frowns. “Empty.”
Both of us fall silent as we stare in the direction of the party. We’re just out of view, but the noise has died down so my guess is it’s dying off. I had my picture taken with the team and walked around by myself for half an hour dodging reporters so I don’t feel the least bit guilty about disappearing. Plus, it feels amazing to be having good conversation. I’ve got that light feeling in my chest, and it’s not all thanks to the drinks.
“Well, I guess it’s time to call it a night.”
Neither of us moves and I scramble for ways to keep us here. I don’t want to go back to being ignored after being seen again.
“We could go back to my place. I don’t have any Everclear, but I’ve got a couple of bottles of wine stashed under my bed.” I can barely believe I’ve offered, but I really don’t want the night to end. There’s something about Nathan I can’t quite put my finger on. He seems to get me, and I’m not even sure I get myself these days.
“What about the evil roommate?”
“If she’s going to hate me before I do anything to deserve it, I might as well do what I want.”
“Let’s do it.”
We take our time walking back to my dorm, talking about nothing and everything. His fingers brush up against mine accidentally, and I cast a side glance in his direction. He tosses that sexy smile back at me and my stomach flutters.
His hair is the color of sand and sticks up around his head in an unkept but not homely way. If I were to describe Nathan’s style, I’d call it the I-don’t-care-about-my-appearance look. And he’s very much pulling it off.
The halls of Freddy are quiet, and I let out a sigh of relief when I open the door to my suite and find it empty. I didn’t have a plan for dealing with the roommates if they were up, but it looks like I’m in the clear. Both bedroom doors are closed and all the lights are off the best I can tell.
I flip on the light in the common room and Nathan takes a seat on my floral chair. He’s probably the first person to sit in it, which seems sorta fitting. “Give me just a minute. I’m going to grab the wine from my room.”
I kick off my heels and hold them in one hand as I slip quietly into my room. Sydney is asleep and the lights are out, making the room pitch black. We’ve taken to falling asleep with music playing to drown out the deafening silence between us.
Khalid plays softly and it’s enough that I don’t worry that my rummaging under my bed for the wine will wake her.
He’s scrolling through his phone when I return with two bottles, a wine opener, and one cup.
“I could only find one of these in the dark.” I hold up the hot pink cup.
I waffle on where to sit until he slides down to the floor. The way he moves, so effortless and comfortable in his skin, strikes me. It’s attractive for a man to be just so… himself.
I sit across from him between the couch and coffee table. “Red or white?”
He smirks. “Can’t guess which I like better?”
Both bottles are some cheap bottom-shelf brand. Neither can taste that great, but considering the nasty alcohol he had on hand earlier, I go with the dryer option and grab the red.
“Lucky guess.”
I scoff. “That was not luck. If I’ve learned nothing else about you tonight from this weird back and forth guessing game, I took note of your choice in alcohol. Potent and rough around the edges.”
Sort of like him.
He wraps his long fingers around the bottle and slides it closer to him while grabbing the opener with the other hand. He has the cork out and the cup filled quickly and offers it to me. “Ladies first.”
Just the very tip of our fingers touch as I grasp the cup, but I can tell by the way his eyes lock onto the contact that he’s as aware of it as I am. His presence in my dorm is heady and relaxing all at once. The first real friend I’ve made in Valley.
“Cheers,” I say before taking a drink.
The wine hits me hard after the various types and large consumption of alcohol I’ve had. I’m giggling and smiling at Nathan as we continue our guessing game—bouncing from favorite foods to middle names. My face actually hurts from smiling. And the more I learn about Nathan, the less I care about the answers and the more I realize just how good it feels to be sitting on the floor of my dorm sharing a cup of wine. Though, he’s pretty interesting too. And not at all hard to look at as we’ve established.
“Alright, Chloe, give me the important details. Name, age, hometown, major.” My name on his lips is the final shot to do me in.
“Chloe Marie Macpherson, twenty-one years old, originally from California, senior, communications major,” I rattle off the facts that make up who I am and yet say so much less than we’ve already shared. I set the cup down in front of him. “Your turn.”
“Nathan Robert Payne, twenty-one years old, from Michigan, senior, business.”
�
��Soccer?” I ask, returning to our earlier conversation.
“No, and you’re running out of sports.” His eyes narrow on me again as he delivers a question I didn’t expect. “Single?”
I nod because I’m holding my breath and I’m afraid if I speak, it’ll come out all breathless and needy.
He moves closer with that sexy smirk and fingers a strand of hair. “Good.” He leans in so his lips hover over mine. He smells of liquor and wine and awesomely bad decisions. “I don’t have to guess if some dude is gonna track me down tomorrow for doing this.”
5
Nathan
For the last several hours, I’ve been thinking about kissing Chloe. I’m not usually the kind of guy who wonders what it’d be like to kiss a girl. I think about getting them naked, of course, and it’s not like I don’t enjoy kissing. Kissing is great, but it’s usually just the required first step to my end goal.
I wonder if she’ll taste like Everclear, champagne, or wine? A combination of all three, maybe?
But when my tongue sweeps inside her mouth, she doesn’t taste like any of those things. She tastes like summer. Sunshine, lazy days, carefree nights, endless possibilities—things that I’d have sworn only moments ago don’t even have a taste.
Slow unsure kisses turn long and deep and somehow, she ends up on my lap. I can’t remember if I put her there or if she climbed on top of me, but now that she’s here, I’ve got both hands tight around her waist to keep her in place.
It doesn’t seem like she’s going anywhere, though. Her hands thread through my hair and then slide down my back. I let her make the first move to naked town. She lifts my shirt over my head, and those green eyes roam over my chest and abs with blatant appreciation.
When her mouth finds mine again, it’s with a desperate moan that has me wondering if maybe we should have taken this back to my place where we’d have more privacy. Hell, maybe she wants to get caught. I worry about it for all of three seconds until she presses her chest against mine and I can feel her nipples poking through her dress.
The Fake: A College Sports Romance (Smart Jocks #4) Page 3
