Score (Skin in the Game Book 1)

by Christine Bell

  Andrews laughed. “He doesn’t need chivalry. The girls drop their panties for him regardless of how much of an asshole he’s being. Me, on the other hand?” He took Bee by the wrist and held her arm aloft to inspect her from head to toe. “I would never laugh at a beautiful woman like you.”

  Bee blinked, then looked at me, that familiar blush slinking across her cheeks. My jaw clenched, but now my fury had swung toward Andrews. The rest of the guys were yanking my chain, but Andrews? That motherfucker would set the bro-code on fire for a chance to get in bed with Bee if he thought he had a shot.

  Not fucking going to happen.

  I took her by the arm Andrews had been holding and guided her toward me. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” I said to the guys. “My girlfriend and I need some alone time.”

  No sooner had I pulled her away than she whispered, “Wow, is that true? Do girls drop their panties for you all the time even if you’re an asshole?”

  Thanks, Andrews, you dickhead.

  I exhaled slowly. “No. And what the fuck were you doing over there?”

  She shrugged innocently. “I don’t know. I was just trying to make friends with your friends. Was that wrong?”

  I grabbed the darts from the dartboard on the wall, stood back, and started to throw. Every one of my throws was way off. No shock there, considering how tense I felt. “They’re football players, you know. Like me? Like your dad? We’re all assholes, right? Didn’t seem to stop you from getting pretty chummy with them.”

  After I’d thrown all the darts, I glanced over at her. She was looking at me like I had an alien coming out of my mouth.

  “This whole thing was your idea. I thought as long as I was pretending to be your girlfriend, I should pretend to like football players, too,” she snapped. “You know, since you are one.”

  She had me there. But I guess I hadn’t known she would be so good at pretending to be something she wasn’t. I didn’t like it one bit. The thing I’d liked most about her in the first place was how genuine she was. What you saw was what you got. And now--

  “I do it all the time, with my dad,” she said softly, cutting off my train of thought.

  “Pretend to like him. Mostly for my mom’s sake.” She started to bite on that cherry red lip of hers, and one look at that familiar gesture made all the rage inside me evaporate.

  She’d literally done nothing wrong. I was pissed because I wasn’t used to these feelings bubbling up inside me and I was taking it out on her.

  I blew out a sigh and nodded. “I’m sorry you feel like you have to do that. And I’m even more sorry for acting like a dick. You were doing exactly right, it just surprised me is all. And you look so great…”

  I trailed off, not wanting to reveal too much. I’d told myself this was just supposed to be a way to keep Renee off my back. Spending a little more time with Bee was a bonus. But now? I knew I’d been fooling myself. It had always been about Bee and how I felt when I was around her. And it scared the shit out of me.

  “Anyway, I really appreciate you doing this. We cool?”

  “Sure, yeah.” She nodded and tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind one ear. She looked as confused as I felt and just when I thought I’d blown the whole evening with my macho-asshole routine, she stepped back and cracked her knuckles like she meant business. “Now move out of the way and let me show you how that’s done.”

  She strolled over to the dartboard, mesmerizing me with the sway of her hips, and pulled the darts out one by one. I watched as she stood on the yellow line and cocked her arm before letting loose. Three in a row, all pretty close to the bull’s eye.

  Then she turned and grinned at me. “Okay, so maybe darts is a bad idea for you.”

  “Nice,” I said, returning her grin.

  We played darts for an hour or so, but my game was garbage. Every time I tried to focus on the board, I could see her in my periphery, that sexy cleavage just begging for my mouth. I’d already embarrassed myself and couldn’t imagine my playing was going to improve, so I admitted defeat with a grimace.

  “Okay. Clearly, you got me at darts. Let’s find something I’m better at to make it a real competition then.”

  I considered trying pool again but the guys were all huddled around the table and I wanted Bee to myself for a while longer. I spied an empty Trivia Master game at the bar and led her over.

  We climbed into the worn leather stools and I slid two dollars into the machine before tapping on the screen to select Sex Trivia.

  “Oh, lord,” she mumbled. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” It was a chance to make Bee blush, and I couldn’t pass that up.

  The first question flickered onto the screen and I read it out loud in my best newscaster voice.

  “According to a 2007 survey, approximately what percentage of U.S. women claim to have never experienced an orgasm? Five percent, ten percent, fifteen percent, or twenty percent?”

  I studied the screen and rubbed my chin thoughtfully.

  “You’re a woman. What do you think, Bee?”

  There it was. The blush.

  “Um. Twenty?” she offered, refusing to meet my gaze while she took a long pull from her beer.

  I hit it. Bzz. Wrong.

  “Ooh, sorry,” I said, mimicking Alex Trebek. “The correct answer is ten. Next question. What percentage of women have faked an orgasm at least once in their lives? Twenty percent, forty percent, seventy-five percent, or all of them?”

  She cocked her head and shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe forty percent?”

  “Hmm. I prefer to think the answer is none of them, but since that’s not a choice, I think I’ll go with the obvious.” I pressed C., seventy-five percent, and the screen lit up green.

  “Nice one,” she said, her posture loosening some as she settled in.

  The next question popped up and this time, she read it out loud, clearly getting into it.

  “A barnacle's penis is what percentage of its body length? Thirty percent, fifty percent, eighty percent, or one hundred and fifty percent.”

  We both stared at the screen for a long moment and she swallowed a choked laugh as she waved her hand.

  “Um, so, if you know it, feel free to answer.”

  I reached out confidently and pressed D. To my shock, the machine dinged and the answer went green. I held up my fist for a bump and she obliged with an outright guffaw.

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “Not everyone has the low-down on barnacle dicks. I guess I should have the inexplicable desire to drop my panties, now?”

  She was kidding, but I nearly groaned aloud at the mental image. She’d clearly gone out of her way to change her clothes. Had that makeover extended to her underwear too? I shoved back the thought of Bee in a tiny thong and managed a half-grin.

  “On our first date?” I said with a shrug. “I mean, it’s a little forward, but all right. If you insist.”

  She laughed but I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her, and the idea seemed to get better and better with every second that passed. Damn, she was sexy. And suddenly the laughter faded. I wanted her alone, naked and under me. I wanted to show her that she would never have to be part of that sad earlier trivia statistic if she got with me.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even fully thought them through and before I’d even remembered that Bee wasn’t the kind of girl who’d fall for dumbass lines like that.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Have you gotten your Pop-Tarts’ worth yet?”

  For a second, I didn’t even know what she was talking about. And then it hit me like a sucker punch.

  This wasn’t a real date.

  I’d almost taken it for granted that I’d bring her back home, get invited in, and maybe get a shot at seeing what she was wearing underneath that dress. Looking at her now, that was still what I wanted to do. But her comment was a much-needed reminder that this wasn’t about us getting to know each other or fucking.r />
  This whole night was about favors and Pop-Tarts.

  “Yeah, I think the seed has been planted,” I said, trying to sound chill. “The guys definitely think we’re together, and word will get around.”

  We finished our beers as I helped her get her coat and gave my buddies all a wave.

  Bee and I stepped out into the cold night air and she said, “I feel bad that this didn’t work better, though. Your ex wasn’t even there.”

  Because Renee’d never be caught dead in a place like Buddies. She needed a dance floor and a far bigger audience.

  “It’s cool,” I said, pulling my sweatshirt hood around my ears. “She’ll hear about it from someone who saw us, I guarantee.”

  We hurried to rush across College Street, a block away from the Kappa house, and she stopped short in the middle of the road. There, in the gutter, was a virtual lake of slushy water. “These are Flora’s boots,” she explained, chewing on a fingernail.

  “All right.” I came up behind her, slid my arm behind her knees and one behind her back, and lifted her.

  “What are you—oh, my gosh,” she said as I pulled her into my arms. “Cal, your knee…”

  I could tell she was embarrassed. Her cheeks blazed in the moonlight and she wouldn’t look at me, but she snaked her arm around my back and held on tight, pushing her tits against me and burrowing her face in my neck as I sloshed through the puddle. I guess I should’ve been worried about my knee, but it felt like a million bucks and so did I.

  So I just kept walking.

  “You should put me down now,” she said. “Seriously. You’re going to hurt yourself—”

  “It’s fine. It just hurts when I hyper-extend. Besides, I’m enjoying this.”

  That was an understatement. She smelled incredible, and I had her curves pressed up against me, my hand under her ass…that was the most action I’d had in weeks and, considering the fake nature of this date, was the most I could expect to have tonight.

  “Plus, I’m paying top Pop-Tart for the full dating Cal Samskevitch experience. You owe me this.”

  She finally piped down and, a block later, I set her gently down on the bottom step of the Kappa house. We walked up the stairs side by side, and Bee had just inserted her key into the door when it swung open.

  Lana Nelson, one of the girls I knew from my Topic in Math – Liberal Arts Class stood there, scowling at Bee.

  “Oh, I was hoping you were—” She stopped when she saw me. “Oh, hey, Cal!”

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I said.

  Lana stepped aside and let Bee pass as she waved me in but other than that, she ignored her. I waited for Lana to go back to wherever she’d come from, but she just stood there, hanging on the door and staring at me.

  “I was actually just thinking about you.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. I had no idea where this was heading, since I’d never once thought about her, except to wonder if she would let me borrow her notes when I missed class.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  She nodded. “I think just about every Kappa has you on their short list of guys they want to ask to our Spring formal.”

  I stared at her blankly. Spring was still four months away. Not to mention, I was standing there on a date with her housemate.

  I couldn’t resist. “Hopefully, if Bee hasn’t kicked me to the curb by then, I’ll be going with her.”

  “Wait,” she finally said. “You…” She pointed at me, and then at Bee. “And Bee?” Then her lips cracked into a ghost of a smile like she was waiting for me to tell her it was a joke, and we were all in on it.

  I didn’t. I just stared at her, silently daring her to ask again.

  She fidgeted uncomfortably and stepped away from the door. “Yeah. Um, cool.”

  But her discomfort wasn’t nearly satisfying enough, because I could see the lingering doubt in her overly made up eyes.

  The rage coiled more tightly inside me. I grabbed Bee’s wrist and tugged her further into the house. “We going to your room now?”

  Bee’s eyes widened, but she nodded and turned toward the stairs, with me at her heels.

  “Do they all treat you like that?” I said as we reached the second-floor hallway.

  She shook my hand off her wrist and turned to face me. She’d been so happy all night, and now she just looked weary and deflated and it made me want to break shit.

  “Do they all treat me like what, Cal?”

  “Like, you know. You said it before. Quasimodo. Why the fuck do you put up with that?” I asked her.

  She shrugged a little but didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t you ever just want to…I don’t know. Teach them a lesson?”

  She shook her head and led me down the hallway to her room. “No. Because I’m a grown up and that would be silly. And who cares what she thinks, anyway?”

  Tough talk, but she didn’t fool me. I knew her now. Well enough to see past that, and there was no going back.

  She opened the door to her room and peeked inside. Then she pushed it open and let me through. It was a pretty big room, not too clean, but not too messy, either. Two beds, but her roommate wasn’t there. I knew her side right away, because of the Anatomy books piled in the makeshift night-table made out of stacked milk crates, and the THE HUMAN BODY poster over her bed.

  I grinned. Then I threw off my sneakers and climbed onto her bed, bouncing up and down on my ass until the springs squealed. “Oh, Bee,” I groaned as loud as I possibly could.

  She stared at me. “What the hell! Get off my bed,” she hissed, her cheeks going fire engine red in an instant.

  “Oh, Bee,” I said, louder. “Oh, fuck, yeah. Like that, baby.”

  I motioned for Bee to get on and join me.

  Her outright shock and dismay slowly disappeared, replaced by a slow, crooked smile. She unzipped her boots and kicked them off. I grabbed her hand and yanked her up beside me.

  “Oh, yes!” she shouted. She started to bang on the wall. “Cal, that’s it!”

  I took ahold of the headboard and started to smack it hard against the wall, shaking it more and more violently. “Oh, God, yeah, Bee. Do it to me.”

  We bounced until her bedspread was on the floor and the pillows had scattered. We bounced until we were both actually out of breath and our hearts were pounding.

  “Come for me now, Bee. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, that was amazing.”

  She just stared at me, biting that lip again, so I said, as loudly as I could manage with so little breath, “You rock my world, Bee. I think I love you.”

  “Don’t get carried away,” she muttered with a breathless laugh, sliding off the bed.

  I flopped onto my back, making myself comfortable. I couldn’t help smiling, partly because I was imagining Lana’s face, and partly because here I was, exactly where Bee spent her every night. It was a glimpse into Bee’s world, just looking at the posters for track on the wall, the ticket stubs for Everything’s Jake at Madison Square Garden stuck in the mirror frame, the Blu-rays lined up on her desk. Then I saw two reptilian eyes staring at me from the top of the dresser.

  “Holy shit, what’s that?” I demanded, scuttling back against the wall.

  She looked at it and grinned, then tickled its chin. “That’s Echo. My roommate’s gecko.”

  I nodded.

  “Cool.” As long as it was a known entity, I was okay with that. I sat up and fingered the Blu-ray cases. “So you like…oh wow. You like East of Eden?”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  I stared at her, shocked. Who doesn’t? Was she kidding? Nobody under the age of fifty liked James Dean movies these days. In fact, most people these days thought he was a porn star or something.

  “It’s my favorite movie.” Then, because I’d been thinking about that certain quote from it for a while, I added, “Man has a choice and it’s a choice that makes him a man.”

  She grinned. “James Dean’s character in that movie is Cal Trask. Coincidence?”

>   I nodded, and I guess the whole thing just hit me. Me, being here, on her bed. Her, still looking so sexy in that red dress and bare feet. Constantly planting herself in my head. Owning my favorite movie in the world. It felt a little like fate, but it was too much to process. I had to get out of there, before I did or said something stupid. Something that would change everything.

  I sat up and walked to the door, where she was standing. “I’d better go.”

  She smiled up at me. “That’s awfully kind of you to take care of me, Cal,” she drawled in Julie Harris’ voice. It was a quote from the movie. She’d said it to him on the Ferris Wheel. And after that…

  Fuck it. If it was fate, I knew what came next.

  I brushed the hair from her face and kissed her.

  And I don’t know how I’d managed to wait that long, because the second my lips met hers it was like they were home. I drew her bottom lip into my mouth and nipped at it before parting her mouth with the tip of my tongue.

  In the movie, Julie Harris realizes it’s a mistake and cuts it off right away, but Bee just let out a soft little sigh, like she wanted more, too. Her hands found their way under my sweatshirt, and all I could think was more, more, more.

  Then two things happened at once.

  Her roommate blasted through the door, screamed, and then backed out like she’d stumbled upon a murder scene, and Bee and I separated like two magnets of the same charge.

  She swiped at her mouth and mumbled, “You better go.”

  I wasn’t about to argue. I strode out of there, head down, knee suddenly aching. Like it would if you acted like a stupid ass jumping on beds and carrying girls home.

  But hell, Stupid might as well be my middle name. Because no matter how hard I tried, for the rest of the night, all I thought about was Bee.

  11

  Bee

  Flora skulked back in about a minute after Cal left. I was still standing in the exact same place I’d been when I told him to leave, touching my lips as if to make sure they were still there.

  I could still feel him, smell him, taste him…almost like he’d inhabited a part of me.