He returned with my change. “Thanks,” I murmured, dropping it into the tip jar.
“Take care.”
I looked up but he was already gone, moving on to the next customer. I hesitated, staring after him. Shaking my head, I reminded myself not to ogle. Tucking the cups under one arm, I held the pitcher with two hands and dove back into the throng. Only I didn’t make it two steps before someone bumped me. The pitcher flew from my hands, somersaulting amid bodies, sloshing beer everywhere. People cried out, wiping ineffectually at their doused clothing.
“Sorry!” I apologized to their glaring faces, grateful that I, at least, had somehow managed to stay dry.
Bending, I retrieved the plastic pitcher from the plank floor just as my pocket started to buzz multiple times in quick succession.
I dug it out of my pocket and read the text.
Emerson: Found table. Still at bar? Did u see him?
Rolling my eyes, I tucked the empty pitcher under my arm and texted her back.
Me: Yes. Yes
Sighing, I squeezed back to the front of the bar and set the pitcher down on the surface. My gaze searched for him. He was serving customers a little way down the bar now, bending his lean body over the counter to better hear orders. I waited until he caught my gaze. He sent me a nod of acknowledgment. I nodded back.
My phone vibrated in my hand again. I glanced down.
Emerson: U r taking 4ever. Better be making out w/him 2 take this long
I snorted and was in the process of typing back to her when he arrived in front of me. He nodded at the pitcher. “That was quick.”
“Yeah.” I hastily slid my phone back in my pocket, almost as if I feared him seeing the texts about him. I smiled wanly. “I didn’t make it three feet.”
“Ah.” He nodded in understanding, bracing his hands on the bar top again. The action stretched his shirt taut over his chest and pulled it against his shoulders. “I’ll let you in on a secret. Nice girls get eaten alive in places like this.”
I stared at him for a moment, his words sinking in. I moistened my lips, reaching deep inside me where some reservoir of female instincts dwelled. “Maybe I’m not that nice.”
He laughed then, a short, deep sound that sent ripples eddying through me. My face flushed. I smiled hesitantly, unsure if his laughter was good or bad.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got ‘nice girl’ written all over you.”
The “sweetheart” made my stomach flutter. Until the rest of his words sank in. You’ve got “nice girl” written all over you. I frowned. Nice girls didn’t win the guy. Hunter’s ex-girlfriend flashed across my mind. No one would accuse her of being a nice girl. She was sexy, with sleek, surfer-blond hair and designer clothes that showed off her body. Sophisticated. Not your girl-next-door type at all. Not like me.
“You might be surprised,” I bluffed.
“Yeah.” He nodded, his gaze skimming me, and suddenly I wished I had worn something besides a shapeless sweater. “I would be.”
I clamped my lips shut to stop myself from arguing with him. He thought I was a nice girl because that’s how I looked. I wasn’t going to change his mind with words. That was the kind of thing one proved.
He bent his arm and tapped his elbow. “Use your elbows to get through out there.”
He stepped away and filled another pitcher. He set it down in front of me. I fumbled for my money in the tiny purse strapped across my chest.
He swiped a hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Really? Thanks.”
He pointed out into the main room. “Just remember to use those elbows, Nice Girl.”
With that parting tip, he moved down the bar to the next customer. I stood there and stared after him for a moment, contemplating our exchange. Nice Girl. It echoed through my head. Fantastic. That’s how he thought of me. No name. Simply that.
Someone nudged me to move out of the way. Turning, I maneuvered back through the room, following his advice and using my elbows. It got me glares, but worked.
“Pepper! Over here!” Emerson waved wildly from a table.
Two guys already occupied the table. Something told me they’d had it first. Half a pitcher of beer sat in the middle. Emerson and Georgia sipped from glasses that were doubtless courtesy of their tablemates.
“Guys, this is Pepper.” She slapped the arm of the guy next to her. “Troy, be a gentleman. Let her sit down.”
“It’s Travis.” He stood and waved me into his seat.
Lowering myself into the chair, I set the pitcher down beside the other one.
“Well.” Emerson scooted closer. “How hot is he?”
I poured a glass and took a deep gulp, suddenly feeling like I needed the fortification even though I wasn’t a fan of the stuff. Coming up for air, I answered. “Hot.”
“Did you talk to him?”
I shrugged one shoulder, for some reason keeping to myself that he was the guy that helped me with my car last night. That might lead me to explaining how he had just dubbed me “Nice Girl.” I winced anew over that. He might as well have dubbed me “Undesirable” or “Leper.”
“I ordered beer,” I volunteered.
“Ugh, that’s all? Well, there’s lots of fish in the sea.” She motioned around us. “We’ll find you someone to hone your wiles.”
My gaze skimmed the sea of people, including the two guys at our table. The one who gave up his chair squatted now, sitting on a motorcycle helmet. He watched Emerson raptly as if he was actually a participant in our conversation. Meanwhile, his friend was working hard to impress Georgia. I couldn’t imagine a more hopeless endeavor than that. She had to have told him she had a boyfriend. Georgia was like that. She wasn’t into leading guys on.
“Looking to hone your wiles?” Travis echoed. “I can help you there.”
“Down, boy.” Emerson patted his arm and I could read her subtext even if she was too kind to say the words: You’re not what we’re looking for.
“I wasn’t actually talking about me. I was talking about the campus kink club.”
“Kink club?” I blinked.
“Yeah. Everyone’s talking about it.”
“Whoa, hang on a minute. Did you say ‘kink club’?” Emerson held up a hand. “Everyone can’t be talking about it. I haven’t heard about it.”
“It’s invitation only. Members are few and select.”
She angled her head and gave him a pointed look. “And again, I haven’t heard of it.”
I grinned. Emerson’s sharp blue eyes cut to me. I quickly covered my lips, trying to hide my amusement. She obviously felt slighted to only be hearing about this now.
“What’s a kink club?” Georgia asked, and the words themselves seemed odd emerging in her Alabama accent.
“You know,” Travis’s friend volunteered. “It’s just what it sounds like. A club for people who like their stuff outside the box, you know?” He drew a little box in the air as if that somehow explained everything.
“People who like their stuff outside the box,” I murmured, glancing at the faces around the table. “That’s not that helpful.” Especially considering I wasn’t even sure what everything was inside the box.
“The girl in the apartment across from mine is a member,” Travis added. “She told me about it.”
“Yeah?” Emerson’s eyes sparkled with interest. “What’s she into?”
Travis looked the three of us over. “Oh, she’d be into the three of you.”
“She’s gay?” Emerson looked unimpressed. “What’s so outside the box about that?”
“I said she would be into the three of you.”
We stared for a long moment. Then Emerson ahhed and Georgia nodded in understanding. I still stared blankly.
Travis laughed at my expression. “As in the three of you . . . together. All at once.”
“Oh.” My cheeks burned.
Travis laughed. “Your expression is priceless.”
“Kink club. Huh
.” Emerson looked at me thoughtfully. “You would definitely learn a thing or two if you visited—”
“Forget it,” I cut her off. “It’s one thing to flirt around with a bartender and . . .” My gaze swung to the two guys listening attentively, suddenly embarrassed. Still, I pushed on. “ . . . and think about doing other stuff. I don’t need to sink to debauchery.”
Travis slapped the table, laughing again. He waved at me. “Where did you find this one? She screams ‘never been laid.’”
“Oh, and you have?” Georgia snapped.
Emerson kicked Travis’s helmet out from under him. He toppled over onto the plank floor. She nodded out into the room. “Get lost.”
Travis stood, dusting himself. “Sorry. Just kidding.” He looked at his friend. “C’mon, man.”
The two waded into the mass. For a moment, the three of us sat there, silent.
“Don’t listen to that ass hat,” Emerson finally muttered.
I shrugged like I wasn’t bothered. Seriously, what did I care what some douche thought of me? Even if his assessment did seem to echo the bartender’s opinion of me. “Nice Girl” and “never been laid” seemed to kind of go hand in hand, after all.
It honestly didn’t bother me that I was a virgin. What bothered me was that I was invisible to the opposite sex. And until I became visible, how was Hunter ever going to notice me?
I took a sip from my cup and glanced around the room, eyeing the crowd. Beautiful girls were everywhere, laughing, talking, flipping their hair with smooth, gliding movements. I’d never felt so apart from my environment as I did in that moment. Any one of these girls had a better shot with Hunter than I did. All because they weren’t afraid to go after what they wanted. All because they knew how to talk, how to act, how to be around guys. And they didn’t need a kink club to educate them. They figured it out and I could, too.
My gaze snapped back to my friends, resolve sweeping through me. “All right.”
Emerson cocked her head to the side. “All right . . . what?”
“Let’s do this,” I announced. “I’ll take whatever advice you dish out. I’ll flirt and wear whatever clothes you pick.”
Emerson perked up, sitting alert and board straight in her chair. “Are you serious?”
Georgia looked uncertain. “Are you sure, Pepper?”
I nodded and took another drink, wincing at the bitter mouthful. “Yes. Foreplay. I want to learn.” I needed to.
Emerson clapped her hands and glanced around the room. “Yesss! Okay. Let’s see. Who should we—”
“No.” I held up one finger. “If I’m doing this it’s not going to be with some wasted guy who’s probably no better at kissing than I am.” I leveled my stare on each of my friends. “Like we talked about earlier, I want someone who knows what he’s doing.” I inhaled a deep breath, one image filling my mind. “I want the bartender.”
Emerson smiled slowly, nodding in approval. “All right then. The bartender it is.”
Chapter 4
Nothing happened that night.
It’s one thing to decide to make a play for a guy, and another thing entirely to get up and do it right then. I’d already seen him reject two girls who threw themselves at him. Evidently he was more discriminating than the rumors implied. I didn’t want to be shot down. Once that happened, I’d never have a chance with him, and for some reason I’d set my sights on him. Maybe it was the fact that he helped me that night when my car died. Who wasn’t a sucker for a knight in shining armor? Or maybe it was simply that he had called me a “nice girl” and I had determined to be naughty. Maybe I wanted to make him eat those words.
We all agreed to call it a night and to return armed with a plan. Or at least a better outfit.
I actually got up in time for my morning class. Emerson’s soft snores drifted through the adjoining door, telling me she wasn’t going to make it to her morning class. The ever reliable Georgia was already up and gone.
I trekked across campus, admiring the turning leaves and enjoying the nip in the crisp New England air as I walked. Just barely into fall and already every shade of orange, red, and yellow was out in full force. Last night’s nip in the air still bit at my cheeks. It might even be colder. When I went home to Pennsylvania for Thanksgiving I was going to have to return with more sweaters.
I sat through botany, taking notes inside the packet the prof had handed out at the start of the semester. After class I packed up quickly, trying to beat the crush out the door.
I trucked it to the Java Hut. Normally I grab a latte before class, but there hadn’t been enough time. By the time I entered the coffee shop, I was dying for a jolt of caffeine. I stepped into line. A pair of girls decked out in sorority regalia—matching sweatshirts and velour pants—chattered noisily about their weekend plans in front of me.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the text.
Emerson: Lrge Carmel Latte Xtra Hot PLS!
Apparently she was up. Grinning, I texted back.
Me: What will u do 4 me?
Emerson: Make u so hot u will have 2 beat hottie bartender off w/stick
I laughed lightly under my breath and typed back.
Me: Why does that scare me???
Emerson: b/c you’re afraid to look good and get what u want
Me: Not true
Emerson: So true
“Hey, Pepper!” The words kissed my cheek in a small gust of breath.
I whirled around, and my gaze collided with the target of all my pent-up desires. My heart seized inside my chest.
“Hey, Hunter.” Was that breathless squeak my voice? My gaze swept over him, taking him in all at once. The chestnut brown hair carefully arranged to look artfully messy. The soft brown eyes. The dimpled cheek.
He pulled me into a warm hug. A warm, brotherly hug. The kind he always gave me. Stepping back, he nodded at my phone. “Reading something funny?”
I shoved my phone into my pocket. “No. Just a text from Emerson.”
“Ah.” He squeezed my arm fondly through my sweater. “How you been?”
“Good.” I nodded back, too eagerly, and then felt my face warm with embarrassment. With him, it was always this way. Awkward. Uncomfortable. At least I was always this way. He was only ever composed, easygoing, and comfortable, while I was forever that twelve-year-old girl in awe of him, despite how nice he was to me
He stared at me for a moment before I added: “You? Last year.”
I resisted closing my eyes in a long anguished blink. Apparently I could only speak in choppy fragments to him.
“Yeah. Getting my applications together. Narrowing down my top choices.”
“Wow. That’s great, Hunter.”
“Just hoping I get in somewhere, you know?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get in,” I gushed.
He gestured for me to move ahead in the line. The sorority girls were ordering now.
He shrugged. “Competition is stiff, and every program only has so many spots. Watch. I’ll probably end up studying medicine in Uruguay.”
He laughed and I followed suit, sure he was joking. Hunter had been valedictorian of his graduating class. There was no doubt in my mind that he would end up at whatever medical school he wanted to attend.
“I talked to Lila yesterday.”
“Yeah. They’re rehearsing hard for their holiday production already.”
Words swelled inside my throat and, unbelievably, somehow found their way out past my lips. “I heard you and Paige broke up.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was maybe the first time I’d ever seen him look uncomfortable and I instantly regretted saying anything.
“Can I help you?” the cashier cut in. My attention snapped to the girl behind the counter. I stepped up and placed my drink order. Her gaze swung to Hunter next. “What about you?”
I waved a hand. “Oh, no, we’re not together.”
“No, I got it, Pepper,” h
e said, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll have your house roast, medium.”
“Thanks,” I murmured as we moved over to wait for our drinks. Hunter motioned to a couple of plush chairs. “Want to sit down?”
“Sure.” I nodded and sank into an armchair, swinging my messenger bag around me and to the floor.
“So my sister didn’t waste much time spreading the news.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Pepper, it’s fine. I’m kidding. You’re like family. Of course Lila would tell you.” His lips twisted. “And everyone else in the northern hemisphere.”
Family. Fabulous. He saw me as another sister. They called our drinks and he rose ahead of me, reaching the bar in two strides and returning with the three drinks.
“Guess you can’t stay long,” he commented as he sank back down. “Your friend’s drink will get cold.”
“I ordered it extra hot and it has a stopper in it. It will be fine.” And Emerson would gladly sacrifice a hot drink if it meant some one-on-one time for me with Hunter.
“Well, yeah. We decided to see other people. I’ll be starting med school and she has another year here. Just made sense. I mean, the idea of living without her . . . it didn’t kill me, you know? And that’s what I asked myself. Can I live without her in my life?” He shrugged. “I figured I could.”
“I never heard it put like that before.”
He winced. “I guess I sound callous.”
“No,” I quickly reassured him. “I think it was fair. To both of you.”
He nodded and took a sip from his cup.
“So,” I hedged, hoping I wouldn’t sound too obvious with my next question, “you’re not into long-distance relationships?” I had two more years here after this one, after all, assuming I finished on time. I hoped the right girl—me—could convince him that the challenge of a long-distance relationship would be worth it.
“Oh, I could. I mean, I would. That didn’t factor into the breakup.”
I smiled, relieved that he didn’t read anything into the question. Relieved that he didn’t realize I was fishing for myself.
He smiled that achingly disarming smile of his back at me. I think it was his smile that endeared him to me the most. With all his advantages he could so easily be arrogant and full of himself, but he was just so good. “But for that to happen it’s gotta be right. It’s gotta be . . . special. You know?”
Foreplay: The Ivy Chronicles Page 3
