Consolation Prize

by Linda Kage

  I probably would’ve chickened out and stayed here all day, but something Colton had said to me last night echoed through my head. I was a fighter. I didn’t run and hide, especially from him.

  Dammit, I could do this!

  Squaring my shoulders, I left my room. But once in the hall, I tiptoed toward the opening of the living room, holding my breath the entire way. I wasn’t sure why—if he was here, I certainly didn’t want him to catch me lurking. And if he wasn’t...then this entire covert act was moot.

  Realizing how weird I was being, I exhaled and straightened my spine, entering the living room at a normal pace, only to fall to a stop with my mouth hanging open.

  Oh, yeah. He was most definitely still here, passed out on my couch like some kind of sun god. The jerk. And yes, I really had to call him a jerk right now. Anyone who looked that good while they were sleeping shouldn’t be allowed to be anything but a jerk. There had to be some kind of balance in the universe.

  He wore nothing but blue jeans. His bare feet were draped over the end of one armrest while he nestled his cheek on the other end. I unwillingly felt a moment of kinship with him for taking off his socks—I hated wearing socks to bed—only to scowl that thought away when my gaze made it to his chest.

  But really? A guy as slim as him should not have that defined of a chest, especially when he was sleeping and could in no way be flexing his muscles.

  Jerk.

  Easing closer, I saw he was clutching his hand to his heart, but upon close inspection, I realized he was actually holding something. His keys? Well, maybe not a key, exactly, but something dangling from his keychain. Squinting, I shifted even closer still to see. It was some kind of tube thing; his fingers covered most of the can until I realized it was breath spray.

  Rolling my eyes, I groaned. Dear Lord, he must really worry about bad morning breath if he slept clutching a bottle of breath spray.

  Big ego much?

  But then I noticed the other item hanging from his keychain and resting against the backs of his knuckles. He had an old, tattered and really cheesy rabbit’s foot.

  It reminded me of my grandma Cicely. She followed all kinds of hoodoo traditions like whipping up homemade powders for healing and luck, and using animals’ body parts to attain success and power. She still hung blue bottles from trees outside her house to trap evil spirits in. And she hadn’t let me go off to college without a Bible and protective amulet.

  Thinking of her while looking at him made all kinds of soft feelings bud inside me. But I nodded to combat those. We weren’t friends. He wasn’t here because he liked me; he was here to fulfill some civic duty toward all women.

  Bolstered with that thought, I nudged one of his jean-clad shins with my bare toe. “Hey.”

  The guy didn’t even stir.

  So I repeated the action, speaking a little louder and nudging a little harder. “Hey!”

  He jerked. “What! Fuck!” Eyes springing open, he panted out his shock until he could focus on me. Then he moaned out a sound of supreme disappointment and scowled before reclosing his eyes. “Jesus Christ, scare the shit out of me, why don’t you. What time is it?”

  “Morning,” I said, having no clue. For once in my life, I hadn’t been checking the time every two minutes as I’d gotten ready for classes. I’d been too concerned to know if he was still here. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

  I could see why he’d kept off the jacket and even removed the hoodie, but to strip all the layers? If he was just playing with me, I was going to be…

  Well, honestly, I was pretty grateful. But I’d have to act pissed.

  One of his eyes reopened to glare at me. I had to admit, it was impressive. I’d always thought glaring was exclusively a two-eyed thing, but he managed it perfectly with just that one.

  “Hate sleeping in shirts,” he mumbled before grumbling out another sound and reluctantly sitting up to run his hand through his hair.

  Damn, his hair looked fetching when it was messy first thing in the morning.

  The jerk.

  “Hate sleeping in pants too,” he added with a two-eyed scowl this time. “But I kept them on. For you. You’re welcome.”

  I didn’t respond, crossing my arms over my chest as I stared down at him. “I can’t believe you really slept here the entire night.”

  “Yeah.” He smacked his lips. “While your gush of appreciation over the fact that I put myself out there to make sure you stayed safe is endearing, do you have some orange juice or something? My mouth tastes like ass.”

  I eyed his hand. “Says the guy who sleeps with a bottle of breath spray against his heart.”

  He glanced down in surprise and opened his palm to look at the tiny bottle as if he hadn’t known it’d been there. Then he shrugged. “It’s empty.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Have you considered throwing it away and buying a new one?”

  Colton’s gaze sprang to me before he blinked as if I’d suggested he throw out a lung instead. “It was a gift,” he finally answered, still staring with that insulted, scandalized gawk.

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Who kept around an empty bottle of breath spray because it’d been a gift?

  Probably someone really sentimental.

  Realizing he was sentimental only chipped away at that wall I was trying to keep up between us. Dammit, I should not like this guy.

  But then he went and stood up—the jerk—and holy God on Sunday. I swear, angels started singing and playing trumpets and harps and shit. I mean, fuck. His hair was perfectly messy. His chest was perfectly bare and gleaming. And his jeans, they slid down dangerously, riding perfectly low on his hips so that the waistband of his Jockey shorts showed.

  I couldn’t help but remember what his cock had looked like when I’d ripped down his tuxedo pants and pulled his hard, throbbing member into my hand. I think my pussy freaking wept with joy, thinking she’d get to feel that inside her.

  And then I’d ruined everything.

  Clearing my throat, I folded my arms over my chest to hide my hard nipples. “Yeah, I think we can get you something to drink.”

  Turning on my heel, I scurried toward the kitchen only to hear him fall into step behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, knowing he was following me. Was he watching me walk, focusing on my ass, remembering what it had felt like in his hands when he’d picked me up and set me on that table?

  “Ooh, coffee.” Surging past me, he darted straight to the pot that had been set to automatically start brewing five minutes earlier.

  Right. So he had not been checking out my ass. I was fine with that.

  With maybe a side of completely devastated.

  I mean, seriously, coffee was not supposed to trump my ass. What the hell was wrong with my ass that he didn’t even rate it a single glance?

  Moaning dramatically, Colton paused next to the brewing pot and closed his eyes as he inhaled.

  My girly parts liked the way he appreciated coffee. And yet my emotions were still crushed over the way he hadn’t checked me out. So I had to scowl to counterbalance. Tightening my arms over my chest, I sniffed. “I thought you said you wanted OJ.”

  “That was before I knew there was coffee.” He opened a cabinet, frowning, and shut it, only to open another.

  “What the hell are you looking for?” I demanded. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him going through my cabinets. It seemed so personal as if he were browsing through my underwear drawer. Actually, I was probably just upset because he didn’t seem to want anything to do with my underwear drawer. The jerk.

  “A mug. To hold my coffee.” He arched me a dry glance. “Unless you don’t mind me drinking straight from the pot.”

  I ground my teeth. “Try the doors directly above the coffee machine.”

  He did. “Ah. Practical.” Taking down my favorite to-go mug, he poured himself a liberal amount, making me worry there might not be any left for me once he was done. Then he glanced around before spotting
the sugar bowl. He helped himself to two cubes before blowing on the surface and taking a tentative sip.

  I might possibly have focused a bit too intently on his mouth while he did all that. But damn, the boy knew how to make drinking coffee look completely fucking sensual.

  Then he had to go and close his eyes and hum out his delight as he tipped his head back to show off the way his throat worked through that first swallow.

  And I suddenly needed to go change my panties.

  I opened my mouth to say…I don’t even know. But I wanted to say something—anything—so he’d transfer all that delight my way.

  Tyla, however, interrupted the moment, bouncing into the kitchen and looking eager and curious.

  “Hey, who was the half-naked white guy passed out on our couch last night?” she blurted, only to slam to a halt, her eyes widening to the size of saucers when she saw Colton leaning against the kitchen cabinets and sipping his coffee.

  He waved congenially. “Same half-naked white guy stealing your coffee this morning.” His gaze skimmed over her, and I wasn’t sure if I liked watching him check out another woman, especially one of my roommates. “Nice PJs,” he murmured appreciatively.

  Tyla slapped her hands over the Marvel boy shorts she was wearing. They were really only her underwear and not actual shorts, so I guessed the warning glare she shot in my direction was for me to keep my mouth shut and not broadcast that to him. At least she was wearing a white camisole with them, which was more than she sometimes wore around the apartment in the mornings.

  “Colton Gamble,” he said, introducing himself as he pushed away from the counter to step forward and lift his hand for a shake. “And you are…?”

  “Colton Gamble?” she repeated dumbly, turning her attention sharply to me.

  “Hey.” He grinned out his surprise. “We have the same name. Cool.”

  She blinked, discombobulated by his strange wit first thing in the morning. Gaping at him another second, she returned her attention to me. “Who the fuck is Colton Gamble?”

  “Ah,” he murmured with a knowing nod, not letting me answer. “I see you must’ve heard about the great and mighty Brandt Gamble. He would be my older brother.”

  When Tyla whipped her attention to him and could only stare, he winked and trailed a hand down his body. “I’m the new, improved edition. Obviously.”

  “Holy shit,” she whispered.

  The bastard preened. “I know, right? And I don’t even work out that much.”

  “O…kay,” I strained out, stepping forward and lifting my hands. I could only take him flirting with my roommate so far. “Colton was just leaving,” I informed Tyla as I propelled him back toward the living room. And oh my God, I was pushing against his chest, his very naked, warm, amazing chest.

  As little electrical currents zapped up my arms from touching him, Colton sent me an irritated scowl, but I kept forcing him to reverse from the kitchen.

  “I was?” he asked curiously. “But I didn’t get to meet your other roommate. I was kind of hoping she’d come strutting out in Superman or Batman panties. Hey, why didn’t you stroll in, wearing pajamas like that?”

  “Because I’ve already showered and dressed for the day, which is what you should go home and do.” I picked up his T-shirt and hoodie off the floor and thrust them at him.

  He gave them a disappointed glance before setting down his mug of coffee on a side table and pulling on the shirt first. Then the hoodie.

  I had thought it would be a sad moment to see the last of his bare chest, but wowza, watching his arms lift before he shimmied into his clothes…art. It was pure art.

  My mouth went dry. By the time he was shrugging on his jacket and pushing his feet into his shoes, I wanted him to take them all off again, just to watch him redress one more time.

  “So…yeah. Catch you later.” He picked up his coffee and headed for the door.

  Things inside me rebelled at his leaving, so I was trying to keep myself from saying anything—in fear I’d blurt out crazy shit, like I wanted him to stay—until I noticed what he was smuggling from my apartment as he opened the door.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going with my coffee mug?”

  He paused and glanced back, lifting one eyebrow. “There were like a hundred coffee mugs in the cupboard.”

  “Not insulated to-go mugs like that one.”

  His eyes narrowed. Then he pointed at me. “If last night had gone the way I’d wanted it to, I’d be stealing more of your panties out of here instead of a fucking mug. Be grateful.”

  Then he turned his back to me and walked off, drinking from my goddamn mug as the door fell shut behind him.

  My mouth dropped open as I squeaked out my shock. The bastard had just stolen my favorite mug. And he’d insinuated that he’d wanted to fuck me last night.

  Thank God I hadn’t known that then.

  “Okay. What the hell?” Tyla demanded, making me jump and whirl around to find her gaping from the entrance of the kitchen.

  I sighed and rubbed at a spot on the center of my forehead.

  “He’s white?” she exploded. “Oh my God, why did you never say he was white?”

  “Shh!” My eyes grew wide as I lifted my hands to hush her, positive Colton had to have heard her from outside the apartment, hell, probably from outside the building.

  “What the fuck are you screaming about?” Sasha croaked as she stumbled into the living room, rubbing her eyes.

  I blinked at her, stunned that she was wearing a Wonder Woman nightshirt. Colton had been so close on his guess that I briefly wondered if he’d peeked in on all of us sleeping this morning. But, no, he wouldn’t do that.

  Would he?

  The thought caused me enough pause that Tyla had time to blurt out, “Brandt Gamble is white!”

  I winced. Right. We were still talking about that.

  Sasha paused from scratching her shoulder. “Wait. What? You mean… Holy shit, that was Brandt Gamble on our couch all night?”

  I groaned and closed my eyes. “No. Of course not.”

  “That was his younger brother,” Tyla eagerly reported. “Colton Gamble.”

  “Colton Gamble?” Sasha shook her head a second before her eyes grew big. “Holy shit.” She turned to me. “Wait. So…they’re only like half siblings, right? And Brandt’s much, much darker than him. Right?”

  I opened my eyes and could only stare at my two friends before wincing out a helpless little shrug.

  “Holy shit,” Sasha gasped. “You’ve had a thing for a white guy for almost a year, and you never told us?”

  I opened my mouth. “I…I didn’t think it’d matter.”

  Okay, that was a lie. I knew it would matter to these two, a lot—they’d grown up much the same way I had—which was why I hadn’t mentioned anything. That way, if things hadn’t worked out between me and Brandt—which they hadn’t—I’d probably never have to reveal one tiny little fact about him.

  “Feed that bullshit to someone else,” Sasha demanded, “and tell us everything.”

  Tyla and Sasha moved in, suddenly more curious than I’d ever seen them.

  “Are they really smaller, you know, down there?”

  “Do they kiss okay? I always thought they’d be really slobbery. They look like, you know, they produce a lot of saliva when kissing.”

  I rolled my eyes and nearly confessed that white guys were totally not more slobbery than black men, but then I realized I’d have to reveal making out with Colton. And they didn’t know about him yet…well, not really.

  I lifted my hands to quiet them. “Will you two calm down? I never slept with or even kissed Brandt. Our date bombed five minutes in, remember?”

  Both of their shoulders slumped. “Oh, yeah. That’s right.”

  They looked so crestfallen, I frowned. “Are you two really that curious about white guys?”

  “Yes!” they cried together.

  “Well,” Sasha hesitated. “Curious, yes. Just
not curious enough to ever ask one out…like you did. I mean, seriously, girl. Are you crazy? What would you have told your dad if you and Brandt Gamble had actually started something?”

  I blew out a long breath. “I don’t know,” I confessed in a hushed voice. “I guess it’s just as well we didn’t.”

  “Yeah,” Tyla agreed with a serious nod. But then she focused on my face again, “But if you ever do, you know…with a white guy, you are spilling every single detail, do you understand me, young lady?”

  “And who the hell is this Colton guy?” Sasha added. “How did he end up on our couch?”

  “Before you answer, let me just put this out there…” Tyla lifted a serious finger. “That white boy was fine.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Sasha agreed with a nod. “Even passed out on the couch, I could tell he was gorgeous last night.”

  “Hell, you should’ve seen him awake and upright this morning.” Tyla growled appreciatively deep in her throat, before glancing at me. “If he looks anything like his brother, I can see why you decided to taste test a little white meat.”

  “Which brings us back to the question of why Brandt Gamble’s brother stayed the night on our couch,” Sasha demanded, forcing the conversation back on track.

  When both friends quieted down enough for me to answer, I shrank lower under their expectant stares. “He, uh…” I cleared my throat and winced because I knew I was going to be forced to tell them more than I wanted to. “He drove me home from the party last night.”

  “Okay,” Tyla said slowly. “Why? Did you get bored with us or something?”

  “Oh, shit. We didn’t make you feel left out when our guys arrived, did we?”

  Actually, for a second there, I had felt pretty bummed and resentful that Chad and Theo had crashed our girls’ night out. But then Colton had shown up, and I’d forgotten all about being a lame fifth wheel.

  But to my friends, I shook my head. “No. Of course not. I just…well…”

  “Yeah…?” Sasha encouraged. “We know you didn’t hook up with him, otherwise he would’ve been in your room and not on the couch.”