Elect

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “You slept with Dr. Stevens?” she gasped. “Chase Winter, shut up; you’ll stop at nothing for a good grade, won’t you?”

  Scowling, I looked toward the front of the class, where a very old Dr. Stevens was writing on the Smart Board. “She’s eighty.”

  “Players don’t discriminate.” Trace held up her hands in mock surrender.

  “I earned the A; I didn’t—do sexual acts for it. You seriously need to stop believing everything Tex says.”

  “Funny, that’s what he says about you.”

  Things had been super easy with us all day. As long as I didn’t touch her or think about the kiss, I was fine and I didn’t want to jump headfirst out the window. I just hoped that Luca and the rest of his men weren’t going to jump out of the bushes or question my relationship with her. We were hanging out enough to make it look real. At least I hoped we were.

  The door to the classroom opened.

  And in walked Luca. Shit, that only meant one thing. He’d gone above Nixon’s head—directly to the school board. No way would Nixon let him in this place on a regular basis. Lucky for Luca, Nixon couldn’t say a word against him without causing questions.

  “Class!” Dr. Stevens whistled. “Today we have a special treat for all of you! Luca Nicolosi is a world renowned researcher in the chemistry field. He will be here for the next month visiting family and has agreed to teach my Chemistry 101 class for the duration of the month. I uh…” Her smile was forced. “As it is, I haven’t taken a vacation in quite some time. It was perfect timing. Truly. Wonderful timing.”

  Shit. She was lying, trying to convince herself of the idea; that much was clear. I kept an indifferent smirk on my face as Dr. Stevens continued to fire off all of Luca’s wonderful attributes.

  Luca was brilliant. I should have seen that one coming but my focus had been on Trace, not on the Sicilian who snaked his way into our own private university.

  When she was done, Luca spoke. “I’m honored to be here at Eagle Elite and have heard glowing reports of its student body. I’ll be more than happy to share my knowledge with anyone willing to pursue a career in the interesting field of chemistry.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Nicolosi.” Dr. Stevens cleared her throat. “Class will be dismissed a bit early today.”

  The room erupted into cheers as students gathered their things and headed toward the door. Trace reached for my hand. I squeezed it and put her bag on my other shoulder.

  Luca watched us the entire way to the door. “Chase, Tracey, I look forward to seeing you in lab Thursday.”

  “That’s if Tracey makes it that long,” I joked and nudged her a bit. “Chemistry isn’t her strong suit, almost burned down the classroom today, huh, babe?”

  “Sorry.” Trace nuzzled my neck and sighed. “Thanks for rescuing me.”

  “Well.” Luca cleared his throat. “How very convenient that a senior such as yourself, Mr. Winter, was able to enroll in a freshman class.”

  “Damn convenient.” I winked and kissed Trace’s hand. “See ya Thursday.”

  I could feel Trace’s hand shaking in mine even as we left the room. “He’s still watching,” she whispered.

  We walked farther down the hall. “Now?” I asked, as we paused in the middle of the hall pretending to look in her bag.

  “Yes.”

  “Damn.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall—not hard, but hard enough to gain attention from passing students.

  My lips were on hers in seconds. The only difference between last time and now—the girl was kissing me back as if her life depended on it.

  Which in this instance, it did.

  Her tongue touched mine, my body responded as if I’d just gotten electrocuted. I knew I had seconds, maybe a minute. I savored her taste. I plundered and pushed, and tasted, and sucked. I moaned when her hands tugged my hair. I about died when she bit down on my lip, and almost cried when she pulled away.

  “He’s not looking anymore,” a male voice said behind me. Paralyzed, I watched as Trace’s eyes welled with tears. And I knew, before I even turned around, that the voice belonged to Nixon and he’d seen every damn thing.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Nixon

  The shitty part was that I couldn’t react. Chase hadn’t answered my last text and I knew Trace’s schedule like the back of my hand.

  To say my heart was shattering into a million pieces would be a gross understatement. I’d never felt such pain as when I saw the fear in Trace’s eyes as she clenched Chase’s hand and walked down the hall. I watched Luca watch them and I knew it was bad. So bad, in fact, that if Chase didn’t do something soon, to prove we weren’t playing him… Well, things wouldn’t be good.

  He slammed her against the wall.

  My girlfriend.

  He took her hand, my hand, and pressed it high above her head, while he used his other hand to dive into her thick luscious hair. His mouth was on hers.

  Her mouth was on his.

  Tongue. Oh hell yeah, I saw tongue. Her tongue, to be exact, so I couldn’t really get pissed at Chase. Shit, I knew what that tongue was capable of. It would bring any male to his knees. Which was why it surprised me to see Chase being so rough with her.

  Not tender. And maybe that was the problem. An issue I’d have to talk to them about. He was aggressive; she tried to fight him back in the aggression. They weren’t a team about what they were doing. Anyone with two eyes could see they looked like horny teenagers. But in love? No. Not at all.

  I was both relieved and terrified.

  And in that moment realized I had to talk, with both of them, but mainly with Trace. Damn if I didn’t need to do what I’d promised I’d never do.

  But if I was protecting her? If I was saving her life by driving her into another man’s arms? Would that redeem me in the end? Or just damn us all to hell?

  “He’s not looking anymore.” I smiled sadly at Trace as her eyes flickered to the ground. I could tell she was about two seconds away from bursting into tears. Chase looked like he’d just gotten a hit of heroin, his color was so high.

  “Both of you. Bat Cave, now.” I grinned for show, gave Chase a hard slap on the back and nodded to Trace.

  Ten minutes later and we were all sitting in silence.

  “That was…”—I whistled—“the worst acting I have ever seen in my entire life.”

  “What?” they yelled in unison.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “As in, you guys couldn’t even star in a porno, it was that bad. You guys are all… just wrong.”

  “Wrong?” Chase stood and began pacing. “I did the best I could—”

  “I know what you were doing and I appreciate it. You guys do a really good job of acting like teenagers who’ve never had sex before.”

  Trace blushed while Chase just looked offended.

  “He’s a brilliant man.” I ran my hands through my hair and looked between the both of them. “If he hasn’t already figured it out, he will and soon.”

  “So what do you want us to do?” Trace whimpered. “I told you I’m a terrible actress—”

  “Stop lying,” I said calmly. “Trace, you love him. It’s okay that you love him, I’m not stupid, you know.”

  “What?” A few tears fell down her face. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t want to lose you. At the rate you’re going, you guys are going to get us all killed by not giving us the time we need to dig deeper. Everything is on you making this relationship sell. Okay?”

  “But—” Trace’s lower lip trembled. “We are trying!”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Who bought you boots, Trace?”

  “What does that have to do with anything going on?” Chase yelled.

  “Trace,” I repeated. “Who bought you the damn boots?”

  “Chase did,” she whispered.

  “Who saved you from ridicule at the welcome back party when I called you out in front of the entire student body?”

&
nbsp; She closed her eyes as a single tear ran down her cheek. “Chase.”

  “Who protected you from Phoenix?”

  Trace said nothing.

  “Who never left your damn side when I listened to your grandfather’s orders and pushed you away?”

  And again with silence.

  I had to get it out. I had to do it. There was no other way. “So as far as I’m concerned, it’s always been Chase. It’s never been me, Trace. All along it’s been him, and only him. From here on out, I’m the other guy, I’m the asshole who embarrassed you in front of your peers, the guy that threatened to destroy you. I am nothing, and Chase? He’s your savior.”

  I walked out of the room and didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I knew if I did I would either fall to my knees and apologize for being so harsh, or cry for the first time since I was twelve.

  I’d just singlehandedly given the love of my life to my best friend—on a silver platter, with a shiny bow attached.

  And I didn’t care if I died, but if Trace died? Because of me? Because of my pride and inability to get over myself? I would pray for death. So if it meant I had to give up the only thing that I was living for? It would be worth it. If she was safe. It would be worth it. I repeated that to myself for the rest of the night, and when Trace came home and said nothing over dinner. I said it again, and again, and when I opened that bottle of whiskey and sat in my room, I said it again.

  Until I passed out.

  * * *

  I woke up with a killer hangover. My fault. Grumbling, I took a shower and went downstairs to get some breakfast before I went over to the Space to see if Phoenix would change his tune.

  “Hey.” Trace was sitting at the table eating some toast.

  “Hey.” I waved. Idiot. She was sitting right in front of me.

  Her eyes didn’t leave mine. I was frozen in place and could literally hear every beat of my heart in the silence.

  “You’re wrong, you know.” She stood and walked toward me. “About a lot of things—everything, actually. And you’re an ass.”

  “I—”

  “I’m talking, you’re listening.” She smirked and grabbed the front of my shirt and pushed me toward the pantry. She slammed me against the door, pretty forcefully, I might add, and then opened it and shoved me in. I mean, I could fight her but I was too damn turned on and curious to do anything except stare at her.

  “I. Want. You.” She took off her shirt. What the hell? “Only you.” Her jeans were next.

  The pantry immediately became my number one favorite spot in the house.

  Facing me in nothing but her scandalous white lacy underwear, she whispered in my ear. “This. What you see? What’s in front of you, it’s not just about me wanting you. I want all of you. I want to be vulnerable with you, exposed. But you have to let me… maybe the reason I don’t want to open up that part of myself to Chase is because he isn’t you, Nixon. He doesn’t have this.” She placed my hand on her bare skin right above her breast. Shit, I was slowly dying inside. Did she even realize what the hell she was doing to me?

  “He doesn’t have our history, our past, our drama. I love him, you’re right. I love him so damn much that I can’t imagine life without him. But he and I—we aren’t this. So tell me, Nixon. Tell me if you want me to forget. I’ll forget what we have, if that’s really what you want. If you want me to jump into his arms without looking back, I will. But know I’ll hate you forever for giving me up.”

  “I’m not,” I interrupted her. “You can’t give up something you never had.”

  She slapped me hard across the face. “You promised, Nixon. You promised me.”

  I kissed her hard on the mouth, clenching her wrists in my hands as I pinned her against the door. “You’re right,” I growled and pulled away. “And I’m sorry for hurting us, for hurting you, but Trace… next time you trap me in a closet, in nothing but your underwear. I will take advantage of you. I’ll screw you until you forget your own name. Don’t play with fire, and don’t mess with me. I’m still terrible for you; he’s better, and I stand by what I did. Now move out of the way before I truly lose control and steal your virginity next to the damn Cheerios.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared as I sidestepped her and walked out of the pantry and directly into Tex.

  “Whoa!” Tex looked at my face and then lower. His smile widened. “Taking care of business in the pantry or Mrs. Butterworth just make you horny?”

  “Shut up.”

  “It’s cool! She’s naked, I get it!” Tex called after me, while I raced back up the stairs, grabbed my phone and keys, and then ran out of the house. Away from Trace, away from everything.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chase

  “So you wanna talk about it?” I slid the cup of coffee across the table in the commons and waited for Trace to say something.

  Wednesdays were always early days for Trace and her classes, but by the looks of it she got less sleep than me. She’d screamed his name last night. I pretended not to care, even when my heart threatened to break into a million pieces.

  “No.” She took my peace offering and grimaced. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her Eagle Elite white collared shirt was untucked from her skirt and she looked like she’d been crying.

  “That’s fine.” I leaned back in my chair and watched people as they walked by, each of them staring at us as if me and Trace had some sort of disease. It had been like that ever since she’d enrolled this fall. People stared. I flipped them off, and oftentimes threatened their lives.

  I glanced back at Trace and couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I’m going to give you the damn speech.”

  “Huh?” Her head snapped up. “What speech?”

  “The speech.” I cleared my throat and reached across the table, engulfing her hand in mine. “Tracey, you’re perfect.”

  “Chase?” She tried to pull her hand away but I gripped it harder.

  “Choose me. Pick me,” I whispered. “I’m better for you… plus Nixon’s… too tall.”

  “He’s too tall?”

  “And buff. Do you really want a guy that looks that scary?” I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. So choose me. Be with me. Let me love you, let me protect you, let me honor you. Let me screw your brains out.”

  “Ass.” She cracked a smile.

  At least she smiled. I cleared my throat and released her hand. Walking over to her side of the table, I pulled her to her feet and tilted her chin toward me.

  “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I’m not worried about my safety.”

  “I’ll kiss you better.”

  “Again, not worried about kisses.”

  I sighed and with a shrug leaned in until our lips were inches from touching. Such sweet, painful agony. “Here’s the thing…”—my bottom lip grazed hers—“Kisses are exactly what you should be worried about.”

  “Why?” She exhaled. Her top lip trembled as air escaped through her mouth.

  “All it takes is one kiss. One kiss can save you. One kiss can ruin you for life. And my kisses? They better ruin you, Trace. Because if they don’t, then I’m clearly not doing a good enough job, and let’s be honest—I can’t really act to save my life, so my kisses are exactly what you should be worried about.” I trailed my finger over her lips. “Because my kisses are real—they mean a hell of a lot more than yours, and from here on out—I’m not holding back.”

  I kissed her.

  Not hard.

  It probably didn’t even look like a kiss. Our lips touched for the briefest of moments, but in that short connection of our mouths meeting, of exchanging the same air, I made a choice.

  To share my soul with her. To be her everything—even if it meant I was going to get nothing in return—because I’d been given permission to do so—I decided I was going to steal her. No longer was it betrayal—it was survival.

  Trace covered her mouth with a sha
king hand and closed her eyes. “We should probably go to class.”

  Her cheeks were stained with a pretty blush. I nodded and grabbed her hand. I didn’t ask for permission, I didn’t need it. As far as I was concerned, she was mine to protect, mine to save, and mine to take. I was making it real—because to me it was.

  “Chase, I—” Trace released my hand and then examined her own, as if it had somehow sprouted a face since coming into contact with my person. “I um…”

  “Spit it out, Trace, or we’re going to be late,” I joked.

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Without thinking, I tugged her arm and walked toward one of the large oak trees.

  “I’m not him.” I trapped her body with mine, noting how every time our bodies came into contact she literally trembled against me. “Look at me.”

  Her eyes flickered open. Torn. She was torn, and she needed to be sure.

  “You can do this,” I whispered hoarsely. “Because you love Nixon. Right?”

  She looked away. Was that uncertainty speaking or just my own lame hope that she felt the exact same tug in the pit of her stomach that I did? Maybe it was ridiculous to wish for another person to feel as horrible as you did—but it’s what I wanted. I was sick for her, and I wanted her to feel the same way for me.

  “Right,” she finally answered with a sigh. “But Chase… I feel like I’m betraying both of you. When I’m with him, I think of you. I wonder how you are, I worry about you, I love you—you know that. And when I’m with you… it hurts, it hurts so damn bad because it’s like I’m taking a knife to his heart every time it’s your touch instead of his.”

  “Well damn,” I chuckled to myself. I mean, really, what else was I supposed to do? Cry?

  “What?” She pushed against my chest. “This is serious. Why are you laughing?”

  I shrugged. “It was a nice speech.”

  “Thanks but—”

  “I’m gonna beat it, so watch out.” I silenced her with my lips. She tasted like mint and coffee. Tenderly, I coaxed her mouth open with my tongue. Her mouth was like velvet—every single damn part of my body was hit with adrenaline—so hard in fact that I braced my hand against the tree, allowing my body to push against hers.