by JB Salsbury
“Until close.” She checks her watch. “Not too much longer.”
I’m buried in an order of espresso drinks when the sound of booming male voices walk through the door. Snarled curse words and low-pitched laughter create a hush over the room. Judging by the look of excitement on Rowan’s face, I’d guess her boyfriend just walked in, and he’s not alone.
“What are you guys doing here?” Rowan asks, as I busy myself with wiping down my workspace that looks more like a milk and coffee murder scene.
“Pit stop before we hit up a party.” The sound of their quick, hard kiss meets my ears. “I told these assholes I wouldn’t go unless you came with me.”
I peek up at Rowan who looks like she was just invited to an execution. “I don’t want to go.”
Hiding behind a wall of espresso machines, I can feel Theodore’s presence in the room, my skin practically vibrates with awareness. I’m sure he wants me to look at him, acknowledge him in some way, which is why I keep my head down.
“Please, Ro?” That pleading voice is deeper than Carey’s and I guess it’s his roommate whose dick speaks sign language. “Carey never goes out with us anymore. This party is supposed to be huge. We have a game tomorrow so we won’t stay long.”
“But, um…” She seems to scramble for an excuse. “I smell like coffee—”
“I love it when you smell like coffee,” her boyfriend says with a hungry rumble in his voice.
“I don’t have a change of clothes—”
“Who the fuck cares. I think you look sexy as hell.”
I roll my eyes at their back and forth.
“I’ll go if Emery comes with us.”
My gaze snaps to Rowan who looks at me expectantly. “What?”
“Come to the party with us.” The woman still looks scared out of her mind, big eyes, pale face…although she always kind of looks like that. “You’re new to the school, this could be a great opportunity to meet people.” Her eyes beg.
Unlike Rowan, nothing scares or intimidates me. I shrug. “Sure, I’ll go.”
“Thank God,” she says, her shoulders lose most of their tension.
“Sweet,” Carey says. “We’ll hang out until you ladies get off.”
I resist the urge to peek at Theodore as they walk back through the café and out the double doors.
We close up shop and freshen up in the bathroom. Carey and his roommates are waiting for us at one of the concrete tables outside Bean Madness. I recognize Kaipo, and one of the blonde guys who approached me in the locker room. I allow my eyes to move beyond them to the man sitting on the table with his feet on the bench. His knees are wide, his elbows braced against them, and his hands dangle carelessly in between. I take him in, from his black Doc Martins and dark denim jeans to his white T-shirt that hugs his biceps. His colorful tattoos stand in stark contrast to the blank canvas of his clothes, and his hair is pushed back off his face showcasing a strong forehead and powerful jawline. He looks like a poisonous James Dean.
He glares at me in a way that might scare most women.
“Alright, let’s roll,” Kaipo says with a loud clap of his hands. “I’m thirsty as fuck.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rowan says from her place within her boyfriend’s arms. “I would’ve made you something.”
The big guy winks at her. “I’m not thirsty for something you can provide, sweetheart. Unless Carey is willing to share—ow, fucker!” He rubs the spot on his chest that Carey punched. “That hurt!”
“I’m going with Rowan.” Carey pulls her away toward the parking garage.
“Wait.” She pivots to look at me. “Emery, come with us.”
“I have a car, I’ll just meet you there.”
She squints, as if she’s trying to read my intentions. “You don’t know where to go.”
“I’ll ride with her.” That deep, dark, lazy voice crawls through me and I resist the urge to smile. Theodore slides off the table and moves close, crowding my space.
“Let’s go before they run out of beer,” the bigger of the two blonde guys says.
As a group, we make our way toward the parking garage and Theodore’s arm occasionally brushes against mine as he never allows more than a few inches of space between us. The scent of his cologne tickles my nose—spicy, mysterious, and dangerous.
Halfway to the car his steps falter. I turn toward him wondering what struck him to stop so suddenly.
“You’re driving coaches truck.”
“I don’t have my own car.” When he doesn’t move, I ask, “Is this a problem for you?”
His expression is as cold and emotionless as always. “No.”
I hit the key fob and climb behind the wheel. I move my book bag from the front seat as he climbs inside. I leave the radio off plunging us both into awkward silence as I navigate through the narrow garage.
“Take a left,” he says when we hit College Avenue.
From my peripheral I see him boldly watching me. Challenging me to do the same. Theodore isn’t the impossible puzzle I assumed he’d be when I first spotted him in the bar. He’s clearly a man who is accustomed to a woman’s attention. Expectant even.
Because of that, I continue to ignore him.
I get off on watching him squirm.
Spider
Emery and her fucking sweater sets.
Pale blue cashmere against her delicate collarbone, the fabric hugs her feminine curves, and those pearl buttons, beg me to touch, bite, and rip. I was hoping she’d be stuck in her Bean Madness uniform. She’s just as desirable in the cheap, oversized polo, but it did leave more to the imagination.
Not that I need my imagination. I know just how perfect she is under all her expensive clothing. Emery Brawley naked against my skin is not a feeling I will soon forget.
But how does a girl with expensive clothes, pearls and diamonds on her ears, and a fucking leather book bag not have her own car?
The woman is a contradiction in every way. I’ve never known anyone like her. As she pretends to push me away, fakes as if she wants nothing to do with me, I see it all for the cover up that it is. I’d bet my balls she could turn a man inside out in hours flat.
She won’t get the same result fucking around with me.
I’m not a woman’s plaything.
Unless she enjoys being burned.
Who am I kidding? Of course she does.
We find the closest parking spot two blocks from the sorority house where the party is being held. Walking alone on the sidewalk in the dark I’m keenly aware of Emery’s breathing. Steady. Confident. She doesn’t talk much, doesn’t fill the quiet with nervous chatter like most woman do. As we get closer to the Eta Pi house the rhythmic throb of bass charges the air accompanied by slurred voices and drunken female squeals.
A guy comes staggering down the sidewalk toward us. I watch him as his gaze settles on Emery.
A sloppy smile pulls his lips. “Hey, beautif—”
“No.” I silence him with a palm to his chest and firm shove.
He stumbles back and miraculously manages to stay upright. “What the fuck, bro?”
I grip her elbow and firmly guide her around the fumbling idiot, only releasing her once he’s in our rearview.
“You could just pee on me,” she says in a bored tone.
“Maybe I will.”
The soft curve of her lips tilts up on one end.
The Eta Pi house is a swarm of activity, the house lights up, music blaring, and people loitering in every available outdoor space. I put a possessive hand on Emery’s lower back and she leads the way inside. The house is filled with sorority girls showing off their So Cal tans in barely there clothes and guys who are here hoping to score. The college party scene is predictable and boring as hell.
I put my lips to Emery’s ear. “Rowan will be with Carey, who will be somewhere near the keg.”
She doesn’t shiver and the pulse point in her neck is steady regardless of my nearness. I smirk to myself be
hind her back. She’s such a faker. I know she’s affected by me, I can feel the energy zap between us when we’re together. She’d have to be dead inside not to feel it too.
I spot the guys in the backyard, not far from the keg like expected. All of them with a Solo cup in hand, Rowan double-fisting hers while her eyes shift nervously around the space. She spots Emery and waves. “You guys made it! Grab a beer!”
“You want one?” I ask while guiding her to stand next to Ro. “Unless you’d rather have a chardonnay?”
She gives no response to my reminder of our first night together. “Beer’s fine.”
Apathetic and cold in public, but passionate and unrestrained in private, she’s smart, gorgeous, with a sick sense of humor. There isn’t a thing about her that doesn’t intrigue me.
I hand her a beer, grab myself one, and stand around shooting the shit while keeping a close eye on her. The girls talk about their classes and Ro launches into a speech about climate change while Emery looks on nodding and agreeing in all the appropriate places. Emery seems to genuinely understand Rowan and engages her on a higher level that most people find obnoxiously boring.
She hasn’t taken a single sip of her beer.
“Fess up, Spider,” Loren says at my side, but I don’t take my eyes off Emery. “You’re totally macking on coaches kid.”
I shrug, take a gulp from my beer, and slide my gaze to his.
His playful expression turns serious. “You got some kind of a death wish.”
Maybe. Truth is, I want to walk away from her, I just can’t. She’s sin incarnate—I know I shouldn’t indulge and yet I do. Over and over again. There is something about her that calls to me, and I’m determined to figure out what exactly it is.
A girl in a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants approaches Emery. She pushes her oversized glasses up her nose and blows at a strand of brown hair that has fallen from her bun into her face. The girl stands out in a crowd of Greeks who are dressed to impress as she gracelessly pushes her way through the backyard. She appears to have rolled out of bed as she shuffles in fluffy slippers across the grass. “Emery, right?”
Emery smiles, small but believable. “Yes.”
“You’re in my organic chem class. Bexley.” The girl pushes her glasses up her nose again and rolls her eyes. “But only my family and professors call me that. I go by Bex.”
Emery introduces the new girl to Rowan and the three of them geek out about ecosystems and animal conservation. Meanwhile Carey and Loren are debating whether or not people with small hands can swim as fast as people with big hands.
I tune into the more intriguing of the two conversations and watch Emery as her stone cold exterior slips away the tiniest bit. She fights a smile, tries to swallow back the passion in her voice, and nods enthusiastically. Seeing her loosen up does some fucked up shit to my insides making my stomach muscles tighten and my senses go on high alert.
I don’t like it.
Chapter Twelve
Emery
I’ve never really had people before. Trusting others gives them the power to manipulate me, and I never want that. But as I talk to Rowan and Bex I realize if I had people, they would be them.
Rowan in her coffee stained Bean Madness polo and Bex in what appears to be her pajamas, neither woman seems to give a flying fuck that every other woman that passes us sneers in our direction. Then they look at me with pity and walk away. A twinge of irritation churns in my gut even though I’m not entirely sure why.
“Yes!” Bex says passionately, her cheeks flushed from what I assume is excitement. “Which is why we need conservation efforts to focus on biodiversity not just—”
“Hey.” Loren, a Chris Hemsworth look-a-like, calls out over us. “You guys mind keeping it down? We’re trying to have a real conversation over here but it’s hard to be heard over your soapbox speech.”
“A real conversation?” Bex says, her face turning redder now for a different reason. “About what, whether or not you could pull off a bee beard?”
He glares. “You’ve been eavesdropping. Mind your own business, Greek.”
“Whatever, jock—”
A female body knocks Bex aside. “Oh my gosh, you came!” Meegan from the coffee shop squeals and does one of those excited girl squatty things as if she’s trying to keep from pissing herself. “Girl!” She throws her arms up, sloshing her beer over the lip and subsequently onto Bex’s fuzzy slippers. “Hugs!” She lunges for me and I feel Spider step close when she wraps her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she slurs into my ear.
I give her an awkward pat on the back then slip free of her hold, but she grabs my wrist before I manage to put much distance between us.
I stare briefly at her grip on my arm. “Let go of me.”
She doesn’t seem to hear me. “Come on, I’m going to introduce you—”
Spider practically plunges her in shadow with his dark presence. “Let her go.”
She blinks up at him and while dazed by his sinful beauty I slip free of her loosened hold. “Whoa. Who are you?” She looks at Carey, Loren, and the other blonde guy. “Football players.”
“Genius observation, Meegan,” Bex says casually her tone laced with sarcasm. “That 90 IQ is really working for you.”
The drunk Barbie glares at Bex, her nose wrinkles and her upper lip peels off her teeth. “What are you wearing?”
Bex looks down at herself, twisting right and left as if searching for dog shit on her sweats before meeting the girl’s eyes. “Clothes?”
“You know the rules,” she sneers at Bex. “You’re representing Eta Pi.”
Bex points to the big EP embroidered on the chest area of her sweatshirt. “I am.” “But,” Meegan says, swaying on her feet. “You look like a fat, sloppy pig.”
“Soon, you’ll be fat too,” I say, getting the drunk sorority girl’s attention. “From stress eating. After I kill your whole family.”
Rowan gasps. Bex grins. Spider coughs to cover his laughter.
Meegan’s boozey brain takes a minute to catch up and I watch as her bloodshot eyes focus on me. “What did you say?”
“She said,” Rowan interrupts with words and with her body as she moves between me and Meegan. “There’s a rat from grass eating who fed his whole family.”
“I love rats,” Bex says absently.
“Ew.” Meegan still looks like she’s eating sour grapes. “Gross.”
“That’s not what she said,” Spider chimes in with a quiet grumble.
“Anyway,” Rowan hooks her arm in mine. “We were just headed to the ladies room.”
“Follow me,” Bex says, stomping ahead of us ungracefully.
“When you’re done, come find me,” Meegan calls out to my back. “I want to introduce you to…”
Her words dissolve into the background mix of music and voices.
Bex turns around grinning. “That was epic. No one ever stands up to Meegan.” She leads us up the stairs and down the hallway. “Over here.” She pulls out a key and unlocks her door, pushing it open and into a small room.
I take in the space that resembles a typical college dorm room except for the three terrariums that line one wall.
“Hope snakes don’t freak you guys out. Bonus of being the sorority outcast? No one wants to share a room with me so they gave me a single.” She points to the door on the far end of the room. “Bathroom’s over there.”
“These are yours?” I bend over to get a closer look inside the glass cages. The biggest snake is pretty, white and yellow.
“That’s Monty. He’s a ball python.” She nods toward the next case with the black and white snake. “Cuddles, he’s a king snake. And the small one on the end is a young corn snake. Rumplesnakeskin. Rumple for short.”
“They’re beautiful.” A girl who keeps snakes in her room to keep mean girls away? I was right, Bex is totally my people.
Rowan comes out of the bathroom. “What was up with that Meegan girl?”
/> Bex sighs. “She’s not my biggest fan. My cousin Riley is the Eta Pi president and Meegan thinks I get preferential treatment. Most of the sister’s don’t like me.”
“Sisters.” I don’t look away from Monty as he lays coiled and completely still. “What a ridiculous term for women who use another woman’s insecurities as a weapon for cruelty.”
Bex snorts. “You obviously don’t have sisters.” She sits on the edge of her bed, readjusting her glasses.
I straighten and face her. “I’m an only child. But I lived in an all girl’s dorm and it wasn’t all hair braiding and pillow fights.”
Rowan pulls her phone from her back pocket. “Carey’s asking where we are.” She tucks her phone away. “We should hang out again,” she says to Bex. “Emery and I work at Bean Madness. Come by sometime and grab a coffee.”
“I usually stick to the more deserted parts of campus, but…” Bex shrugs. “Okay.”
Rowan looks at me with apology flashing in her eyes before she says, “Spider’s looking for you.”
“Let him look.” I don’t owe him my whereabouts.
“We’ll see you around, Bex!” Rowan says.
I follow her out of the room and down the crowded staircase where I see Theodore casually leaning against the banister while a woman in a tight black mini-dress invades his personal space. Not that he seems to mind. With his head tilted he rubs a lock of her hair between his fingers, fixated but uninterested in whatever she’s saying. I head down the stairs, step right up to him and look between him and the woman. She lifts her brows awaiting an explanation for my interruption. His cold blank stare holds mine and he finally, slowly, slips his fingers from her hair.
“I’m ready to go.”
He pushes up off the wall and jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
“Wait,” the woman in the mini-dress puts a hand on Spider’s chest. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”
He stares down at where her hand is touching him and I do the same, glaring at the spot where her palm meets his pec.
