Bad Influence

by Charleigh Rose

  “Just a sec!” Allison shouts back, shooting me a look. She stands, pulling on a pair of black sweatpants from her drawer before moving toward the door. She looks at me over her shoulder, motioning for me to go into the bathroom.

  “You owe me,” I say, standing my ground. She glares, but impatience wins out and she mouths fine. I send her a wink before closing the bathroom door.

  “Hey,” I hear her say. “Sorry, I was trying to find some pants.”

  “Everything okay?” Lo asks.

  “Yeah?” Allison responds, but it sounds more like a question.

  “Have you seen Jess? There’s a drunk guy on my couch and he’s not in his room.”

  Shit, I forgot about Sullivan.

  “Nope,” Allie says, and Jesus Christ, she has to be the worst liar I’ve ever encountered. I roll my eyes, reaching behind me to flush the toilet before I open the door. I make a show out of adjusting myself, like I just went to the bathroom. Take notes, Allie. This is how to lie convincingly.

  “I was taking a piss. What’s up?”

  Lo eyes me skeptically, then looks between the two of us. Allie picks at her nails, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Real smooth.

  “Dare and I are leaving for a while.”

  “Okay.” Since when does she give me a play-by-play of her day? “Have fun, I guess.”

  “I mean, like, for a week.”

  “As in a vacation?” I ask, my eyebrows jumping in surprise.

  “I guess that’s what you’d call it.” Her mouth breaks into a wide smile. “I’ve never been on a vacation.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Now?”

  “It was a surprise.”

  Ah, now it makes sense. Dare has been trying to get her to go away with him, but she always has an excuse, usually involving work or me.

  “Jake’s covering my shifts, but they could use you if you want to make a few bucks,” she says. “I’m leaving money on the counter for food. I don’t care if you have people over, just don’t break anything, don’t let anyone puke inside, and stay out of my room. I’ll have my phone if you need me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Lo, would you get the fuck out of here already?”

  She rolls her eyes, moving through Allison’s room to meet me in the doorway. She reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck and kisses my temple. I lock eyes with Allie over Lo’s shoulder. She’s watching us curiously. She does that a lot, I’ve noticed. As if she’s always trying to figure people out.

  “Love you, asshole,” Lo says, pulling back before mussing up my already-disheveled hair.

  “Love you, too.”

  Lo worries her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s overthinking. She might be living the good life with Dare now, but she still hasn’t seemed to figure out that she’s allowed to do things for herself. She doesn’t know what the fuck to do with herself now that she doesn’t have to take care of everyone around her. Leaving for school was supposed to give her a chance to live her life. She sacrificed everything for me, and even though I’m not exactly a team player, I took the lacrosse scholarship.

  I did it for two reasons. The first being that I didn’t want to let her down—look how well that turned out—and the second being that I didn’t want her to put her life on hold any longer. I didn’t want to be her crutch. You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can’t take years of conditioning out of the girl.

  There are three kinds of people where we’re from. The kind who never get out, the kind who are lucky enough to get out and stay out, and the kind that get out for a while but ultimately end up back where they started when they realize they weren’t meant for more. Lo always said I’d be the successful one—that it was me who’d dig us out of our world full of drugs and poverty and crime. She thought I’d be the one with the future. She didn’t realize that it was her all along. I felt like a fucking imposter when I tried to play the part. I fall into the last category.

  “Hey.” I snap my fingers in front of her face. Her gaze snaps up to mine. “You’re going on a vacation with your boyfriend, not being sentenced to death row. Try to look happy about it.”

  “I am,” she insists.

  “I’ll be fine. I have Allison to take care of me. Isn’t that right, Allie Girl?”

  Allison pulls a face, arms folded under the perfect tits I know are hiding beneath that haggard ass T-shirt. “You’re on your own.”

  Lo laughs and slaps my cheek lightly. “Behave. If you get arrested, you’re shit out of luck for a week. Oh, and you’ll get Allison to work if she needs it.”

  “Noted.”

  Lo opens her mouth to speak again, but before she can get a word out, we hear a loud “What the hell?” come from downstairs.

  “Who the fuck is on my couch?” Dare shouts. Allison flattens her lips to hide a smile.

  “That’s my cue.” Lo Laughs.

  Once Lo’s gone, I lock eyes with Allison, the silence stretching between us as she fiddles with the hem of her shirt.

  “Guess it’s just you and me,” I say, walking toward her bed before lying back down, folding my hands behind my head.

  “What are you doing?” Allie’s eyes cut toward the door, making sure we’re alone before closing it.

  “I wasn’t ready to wake up. Get back in bed.”

  “We are not making a habit of this,” she hisses. Her words say one thing, but the way her eyes trail down my stomach to the morning wood in my sweats says another thing entirely.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  She stands her ground, arms still crossed in defiance. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, then stalk toward her.

  “Stay away,” she says, backing up as I advance on her. I pause mid-step, cocking my head to the side as I try to get a read on her. “You don’t play fair,” she explains. “My brain says one thing, but then you touch me and—” Allie stops abruptly, then clamps her mouth shut, as if she didn’t intend to reveal that fun little piece of information.

  “And what?” I ask, taking another step in her direction.

  “You’re a bad influence.”

  I smirk, taking another step, effectively closing the distance between us.“I’ve been called worse.”

  “This isn’t a good idea,” she almost whispers, her gaze trained on my chest, avoiding eye contact. Her hair, all wavy and wild from sleep, falls in front of her face. I pinch a strand between my thumb and fingers, feeling the soft strands against my callused fingers.

  “The best things never are.”

  Big gray eyes lift to mine, searching. “What do you want, Jesse?” she asks.

  “You,” I say simply.

  “Why?”

  “Do I need a reason?”

  She tries to move past me with a huff, but I block her path. “I don’t know, okay,” I admit through gritted teeth. “I just know that I do.”

  “There are plenty of other willing victims. Go play with one of them instead.”

  “I don’t want them.”

  “Well, I don’t want you,” she snaps.

  “That might have been more convincing if my cock wasn’t still covered in your cum.” Her cheeks bloom red with a mixture of what I’m sure is both anger and embarrassment. I turn around, heading for the bathroom, leaving her to seethe in peace. Not bothering to close the bathroom door, I turn the hot water on, then drop my sweats. I step under the hot water, images of last night flashing through my mind. My dick stirs at the thought, and I grip it with a tight fist, giving myself a single stroke. Before I get any farther, the shower curtain is wrenched open.

  “Just because my body has a physiological reaction to you doesn’t mean I like you.”

  “Obviously,” I deadpan. That sums up about ninety-nine percent of the “relationships” I’ve been in.

  “And say we hooked up again,” she starts, her eyes dying to drift south. “It would stay between us?” I should feel victorious, but I can’t help but fixate on the last part of
her question. She wants me to be her dirty little secret. If I stopped to analyze it, I’m sure I’d be offended.

  “Why, Allison, are you proposing a secret, sexual relationship with me?”

  “Forget it.” She turns to leave, but my hand snaps out, catching her wrist. We lock eyes, tension building between us. I can practically feel her wall going back up, brick by brick. She pushes, I push back, neither one of us wanting to be the first to bend—the first to show something real.

  “Say something,” she pleads, gaze fixed on my stomach, and not an inch lower. The water from the showerhead is starting to make a mess with the curtain being open, pooling under her bare feet.

  “No one has to know,” I say the words she wants to hear through gritted teeth. My fingers are still clutching her wrist when her hand moves toward me, flattening against my chest. My muscles tighten under her touch as she tentatively slides her palm downward, exploring. Her eyes flick toward the door, but her hand continues its descent. The tips of her fingers graze my happy trail, and I can feel her warmth radiating from her palm on my cock right before she wraps her hand around me. My eyes close, head dropping back onto my shoulders.

  “Sullivan,” she says, her voice breathy.

  My head snaps back up, the grip on her wrist tightening. “The fuck did you just say?”

  She jerks her wrist out of my hand, nearly slipping on the wet floor before righting herself. “Halston’s here. I forgot she was picking me up.”

  I sigh, running a hand through my wet hair to get it out of my face. Allie hurries out the door, leaving me high and dry. And hard. Fuck you, Sully.

  * * *

  I HURRY DOWN THE STAIRS, wanting to warn Halston before she’s ambushed by the sight of a drunken Sullivan passed out on the couch, but I’m too late. She’s standing in front of the couch, arms crossed, eyebrow arched, looking down at him as he scrambles to sit up. Dare and Lo, thankfully, are nowhere to be seen. They must have left already.

  “Halston—” Sullivan starts, but she holds up her hand, cutting him off.

  “Not my business.”

  I study her, looking for any signs of deception, trying to gauge how she really feels about this. She turns to me, taking in my baggy sweats, damp shirt, and messy ponytail. “Tell me you’re not going like that.”

  “I woke up late.” I shrug.

  She scrunches her nose. “Well, fix it.” She laughs.

  “Halston, can we talk?” Sullivan tries again.

  “Nothing to talk about. You had an itch and I wasn’t around to scratch it,” she says, the picture of nonchalance. She turns away, heading for the stairs.

  “Nothing happened,” he promises, standing as if he’s going to go after her. But then his blanket falls, revealing the fact he’s not wearing pants.

  “Jesus, Sullivan.” I cover my eyes. “I did not need to see that.” He scrambles to cover himself, falling back onto the couch and balling the blanket up on his lap.

  “Yeah, sure looks like nothing happened,” Halston challenges, with a pointed look before she gives him her back once more. “Oh, by the way,” she pauses, one hand on the stair rail, “the next time you’re going to lie, make sure the evidence isn’t plastered all over Sierra’s socials.” Sullivan sighs, dejected, raking a hand through his hair.

  Once we’re in my room, I shut the door behind her. I can still hear the shower running, and I quickly shut that door, too.

  “I found out in the middle of the night,” I say, walking over to sit on the edge of my bed. “I almost kicked his ass, but Jesse told me you knew. I should’ve known he was trying to cover his friend’s ass.”

  “He wasn’t lying.” Halston pops a shoulder, unconcerned. “We have an understanding.”

  “You’re shitting me. I thought you liked him.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why…”

  “Because we’re in college,” she points out, like it should be obvious. “And he’s Sullivan. He couldn’t be faithful if his life depended on it. His type never is.” She sighs, moving toward my temporary closet, sifting through the few articles of clothing I’ve actually managed to hang. “These boys… Their only mission in life is to collect as many conquests as possible.”

  I bob my head in silent agreement, unease rolling through me. “So, you hook up with him knowing he’s hooking up with other girls? Doesn’t it bother you?”

  Halston glances at me over her shoulder. “Sometimes.” I think back to last night, and how jealous I was when I thought Sierra had been talking about Jesse, and we’re not even together. We’re nothing. But it doesn’t feel like nothing.

  “Do you think friends with benefits actually works?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “For some people, sure.” Halston settles on a white cropped T-shirt, peeling it off the hanger before tossing it onto my lap. I’m not at all surprised she picked the smallest piece of clothing in there. She squats down to riffle through my suitcase. “The key is to have ground rules.”

  “Such as?”

  “That depends on you and your expectations,” she says, holding up a pair of old, ripped jeans before throwing them to the reject pile to join the other pieces she deems unworthy. “My personal rules are no hooking up with other people on the same day, no cuddling, no sleepovers, no unprotected sex, and most importantly, no lying. And Sullivan,” she stands, throwing a pair of high-waisted jean shorts at me, “is a liar.”

  “I’m not wearing these,” I say, bunching the shorts into a ball.

  “Yes, you are. We’re getting pedicures, remember?”

  “Fine,” I relent, kicking off my sweats, wishing I had a chance to shower after last night’s—ahem—activities. I pull my shorts up quickly. “Hand me that bra,” I say, pointing at the suitcase. Once she hands it to me, I turn away to change. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Sullivan got very far with Sierra.”

  “How would you know?”

  I walk back over to my suitcase, plucking a pair of gray socks to go with my boots because I don’t even own a pair of flip-flops. “I overheard some stuff. She was trying to use him to make Jesse jealous.”

  “And then I sent their drunk asses home in an Uber,” Jess says, standing in the bathroom doorway, towel tied around his waist. I didn’t even hear him.

  “Knock much?” I snap, trying to appear unaffected by the way he looks, his dark wet hair slicked back, beads of water trailing down his chest.

  “Stare much?” he counters. I flip him off, sitting on the edge of my bed to pull my boots on before gathering a jacket and my work shirt to throw into my backpack for later. He returns his attention to Halston, who’s pinning me with an accusatory expression. “Even drunker than shit with a chip on his shoulder, he still passed on the opportunity. I wonder why that is?”

  Halston shrugs. “He didn’t want the herp?”

  “Funny,” Jesse deadpans. I take advantage of their little tête-à-tête, seizing the opportunity to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. When I come out, they’re speaking in hushed tones, but they stop when they see me, Halston glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

  “We’re leaving,” I interrupt their staring contest, tugging on Halston’s wrist.

  “We’re going to talk about what you were doing up with Jesse in the middle of the night. And don’t think I didn’t notice you failed to inform me that you share a bathroom,” she says in the loudest whisper known to man as we make our way down the stairs.

  “Shut up,” I hiss, hurrying down the steps. I don’t need Jesse—or Sullivan for that matter—overhearing anything.

  Three hours later, my fingers and toes are painted glossy and black, my stomach is full of tacos and margaritas—Halston promised this restaurant wouldn’t card, and she was right—and I’ve successfully managed to field all questions pertaining to Jesse. I didn’t outright lie. I simply…downplayed.

  “What am I going to do without you for an entire week?” I pout, then lick the leftover salt off the rim of my margarita. />
  “I think you’ll have your hands full,” she says pointedly. “I’ll be the one suffering. Wanna trade?”

  A week with Halston’s rich, overbearing parents? I’ll pass. “What were you and Jesse whispering about, by the way?”

  “Nothing.” She plugs the tip of the miniature lime green straw in her drink, then sucks the slush out of the bottom.

  I narrow my eyes at her, but before I can press, my phone lights up on the tabletop with a number I don’t recognize. I don’t usually answer unfamiliar numbers, but this one’s local, and my curiosity is piqued. I bring my phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Allison?”

  “This is she.” Halston sends me a questioning look, mouthing who is it, and I shrug.

  “This is Victor.”

  “Oh.” I sit up straighter. “How are you?”

  “Can’t complain. I wanted to see if you were still interested in throwing an event.”

  “Yes!” I say a little too eagerly, and his amused laughter rumbles in my ear.

  “Not this Friday, but next. Does that give you a sufficient amount of time?”

  “I can make that work,” I say with confidence I don’t feel. It’s the end of the semester, and school is going to take over my life after Spring Break, but I can’t pass this up.

  “That’s what I like to hear. If this goes well, we can talk about a possible summer internship. That is, if you’re interested.”

  “Definitely interested,” I say, trying not to squeal like a schoolgirl. “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Text me your email and I’ll send the information over.”

  He hangs up without another word, and I relay the details to Halston, whose excitement rivals mine. “Holy shit, Allie! That’s cause for celebration. One more drink?”

  “When you get back.” I check the time on my phone. “I have to get to work, and I think showing up drunk would be frowned upon.”

  “Fine, party pooper.”

  “You’re just stalling because you don’t want to go home.”