Under Her

by Samantha Towle

  “Okay. So…go Sot.” I give an encouraging fist pump.

  Morgan laughs at me. “You’re such a dork.”

  “No. I’m badass. We’ve already talked about this.”

  I grin at her, and she laughs again. My whole body warms. But not in a sexual way. I don’t know how to describe it. All I do know is, I’ve discovered that I love making her laugh.

  Morgan’s laughter is awesome. She laughs without abandon, and the sound is contagious.

  Making her laugh is my new favorite thing to do.

  But I’m sure, when I get her flat on her back and under me, a whole host of other things will become my new favorite things to do to Morgan.

  Niran and Noon have just dropped us off back at our hotel, and Morgan and I are walking through the gardens, toward our bungalows.

  We’re going to meet with Niran tomorrow morning at the factory to sign some papers, and then we’ll have the rest of the day free before we fly home the next morning.

  “You fancy a beer?” I ask Morgan as we near our bungalows. “I have some in the fridge in my room.”

  Honestly, I’m just thinking up ways to spend a little more time with her. I’m not ready for the night to be over just yet.

  “Sure.” She smiles. “You mind if I just grab a shower first though? I want to wash the smoke out of my hair.”

  I’m tempted to ask if she wants me to join her. But I don’t.

  Slow. Slow, Cross.

  “Yeah, I think I’ll grab a shower, too. Niran and Noon are great, but fuck can they smoke.” I chuckle.

  She laughs. “I’m pretty sure they went through a full pack each while we were at the boxing match.”

  “And another pack while we had dinner.”

  We all grabbed some food at a Thai restaurant after the boxing match.

  “I actually didn’t know someone could smoke while eating their food.”

  Morgan snickers. “I’ll be about fifteen minutes.” She steps into her room.

  “Take your time.”

  I let myself in my room, strip off my smoky clothes, and climb in the shower.

  I’m done in five minutes. I dress in gray pajama pants and grab two beers from the fridge. I open them up and head out onto the terrace.

  I’m catching up on messages when Morgan appears.

  “Hey.” She smiles.

  Holy fuck.

  She’s makeup free, not that she wears much anyway, and her hair is down and damp around her shoulders. But those aren’t the reasons that I’ve suddenly lost the ability to speak.

  No, it’s the black silk cami pajama top and shorts that she’s wearing. And also the fact that I know she’s not wearing a bra beneath it because I can see her perky nipples poking at the fabric.

  Is she trying to kill me?

  If she is, what a fucking way to go though.

  It takes me a full minute to find my voice. “Hi,” I croak as I hand her a beer.

  She sits on the chair beside me and curls her legs up beneath her.

  I want her so bad. I can feel myself starting to sweat, and my heart is thudding in my chest.

  I take a long pull on my beer, trying to calm myself down.

  Chill, Cross. For fuck’s sake, you’re acting like you’ve never seen a hot woman before.

  But I haven’t seen her before. Not like this.

  “That’s one of ours, right?” I point to her pajama set. Why the hell I’m reminding myself of what she’s wearing, I’ll never know.

  “It is.” She smiles around the mouth of her beer bottle before taking a drink.

  Those lips around that bottle…I bet she gives amazing head.

  “I know my stuff,” I say.

  “I know my stuff.”

  Jesus H. Christ.

  Next time I see Coop and Dom, I’m going to have them take turns in punching me in the face for all the stupid shit that I’ve said to her.

  I take another drink of my beer and silently berate myself for being a moronic prick.

  “So, tonight was fun,” she says.

  “Yeah, it was.” I smile at her.

  “And we didn’t get murdered at the arena, so that was a bonus.” A slow grin slides onto her face.

  I chuckle and shake my head at her. “Did you not go to a Thai boxing match the last time you were here?” I ask her.

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t get much time to do anything, except work, the last time I was here. I was only in San Kamphaeng for a day, as I had to visit a few more places.”

  “So, you didn’t get to do much sightseeing?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you wanna go sightseeing with me tomorrow after we finish up signing the contracts with Niran?”

  “Sure.” She smiles. “That sounds nice.”

  I take another sip of my beer, happy at the thought of spending the day with her tomorrow.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t been out here before,” she says, her voice gentle in the night air. “I’d have thought traveling was your thing.”

  I slide my eyes to her. “Because I’m rich?”

  She shrugs but doesn’t elaborate.

  “I’ve been abroad for work—China, India, places like that. Never here though. I did go to Cabo with the boys a few times for spring break.” I smile at the memories. “But, honestly, I haven’t taken a vacation since…God, two years ago when Coop booked us a spontaneous trip to Vegas. I’m kinda married to my job if you haven’t noticed.”

  “I’ve noticed,” she says softly.

  I like that she’s realized how hard I actually do work.

  “So, how is Cooper?” she asks me.

  “He’s good. Bumming around, living off his trust fund.” I chuckle, and she laughs.

  “You were close with Dominic Anderson as well, right? I worked with him at Starbucks,” she explains.

  For some reason, I don’t tell her that I already knew that. “Yeah, I see him all the time. Dom’s one of my best friends.”

  “How’s he doing? I heard that he’d set up a dating app or something when he left college.”

  “Yeah, he created Cas-U-Safe,” I tell her.

  Basically, Cas-U-Safe is a dating app that people can join, so they can meet and hook up with people, and there’s no risk to their safety at all. The sign-up is rigorous, and it does all kinds of background checks on people. If you pass the checks, then you’re allowed a membership. Once in, you are able to browse photos of people but no details. If you see someone you want to hook up with, you send the person a message. If he or she wants to meet with you, then a date is arranged through Cas-U-Safe. The first date is held at the building they own, which has security. The first building was in Chicago. Now, they’re all over the fucking world.

  The Cas-U-Safe buildings are a lot like hotels. They have a reception area, restaurant, café, cinema, bowling alley, and shit like that where the dates are held. The hotel is littered with security guards. CCTV is in all the dating areas. For an extra cost, there are hotel rooms upstairs for people to check in and fuck if they want. And a panic button is in each room. If they don’t want a room, then they go on their way after having a date that was safe for them, and they can go fuck at home if they want.

  The joining fee is higher than the usual dating apps, but with all the creepers in the world right now, people want to know they’re meeting exactly whom they think they should be meeting and that they’ll be safe. And that’s what Dom’s company provides for them.

  “Wow. I can’t believe he created Cas-U-Safe.”

  “Yep. Dom’s one smart fucker.” I don’t tell her the reason he created the app though. Only Coop and I know that.

  “Well, he must be doing really well for himself.”

  “Yeah, he is.” I smile at my friend’s good fortune.

  “It’s one of the biggest dating apps around,” she muses.

  “Number two in the world. Have you ever used it?” I ask her.

  “No! Of course not.” Her defensive words and tone
tell me that she has.

  I feel a flash of jealousy at the thought of Morgan going on a date and possibly fucking some dickhead at the building that my buddy owns.

  I grit my teeth, my hand tightening around my beer bottle.

  When I feel a little calmer, I say, “What about you? You still friends with those girls you hung out with at Northwestern…” I click my fingers, trying to remember their names.

  “Joely. And Hannah,” she says.

  “Yeah, right. Joely was the one with short, dark hair, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Hannah…did she have blonde hair?”

  “No. Red.”

  “Close.” I chuckle.

  But she doesn’t laugh back. So, I look at her, and it’s like a dark cloud has settled over her once-serene face.

  Surely, she’s not pissed because I didn’t remember her friend Hannah properly.

  “Do you still see them?” I ask.

  “Joely. But not Hannah.” She stands abruptly, yanking my eyes up with her. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

  “Oh. Right. Okay.” I get to my feet.

  “Thanks for the beer.” She doesn’t look at me.

  And the good feeling that I’ve had all night disintegrates.

  “Anytime,” I say.

  “Well”—she takes a step away from me, her voice sounding stiff—“good night, Wilder.”

  “Sleep well,” I tell her.

  I watch her walk back into her bungalow, the door closing behind her, shutting me out. And I stand here, confused as to how me not remembering the color of her friend’s hair could piss her off so much.

  Morgan

  Twelve Years Ago

  I’m back for my second year at Northwestern.

  I spent the summer at home, working for Starbucks there. I was lucky to get a transfer, and I took on a second job at the place where my mom worked, helping reception.

  It was good to be home and spend some quality time with my parents. And, of course, Joely was home, too, so we got to hang out, one-on-one, which hadn’t happened in a while.

  Not that I don’t like Joely’s roommate, Hannah, because I really do. She’s lovely. We’re all rooming together this year. We’ve got an apartment close to campus. But, growing up, it’s always been me and Joely, so it was awesome for it to just be me and her.

  And, honestly, I think the break away has done me a world of good.

  I’m actually over my crush on Wilder.

  I know, right? About freaking time.

  So, now that I’m not crushing on Wilder, I don’t have to pretend to not have said crush on him; therefore, I don’t need to act like I think he’s the biggest jerk to ever walk the face of the planet so that he doesn’t know I have—sorry, had feelings for him. And, also, I’m over the whole him implying that I was fat.

  I’ve decided, from now on, I’ll be nice to him.

  Not that I’ve been particularly awful to him. I’ve just not been friendly to him in the past.

  But this year is going to be different. A brand-new year, and I resolve to be nice to Wilder Cross. Maybe even be friends with him.

  Another change that Joely and I agreed on for this year is that we’ll both have more of a social life. Joely’s not here on a scholarship, like me. Her parents are a little better off than mine, and they pay her tuition and boarding fees, but she still has to work to earn money to live on.

  So, it’s fair to say that we both neglected our social lives last year.

  This year is going to be different.

  I’m actually considering maybe dipping my toe in the dating pool.

  I’m nineteen years old and at college. Having fun and dating boys is a rite of passage.

  Hence why I find myself at this party of some guy I don’t know, but he is in Hannah’s creative writing class.

  The house is packed with people. Some, I recognize from classes, but a lot of them, I don’t know.

  Hannah disappeared the moment we got here to go talk to some people she knew. So, it’s just Joely and me, standing around, people-watching.

  “We suck at this,” she says into my ear over the loud music.

  “Suck at what?” I say back to her.

  “Socializing. We’ve been here for thirty minutes, and we haven’t talked to anyone but each other. We haven’t even had a drink yet.”

  I chuckle. “You’re right. We do suck at it. How about I go locate us a drink, and you go talk to that cute guy who’s been staring at you for the last five minutes?”

  “Who? Where?” Her head whips around to me.

  “Straight ahead. Blue shirt. Blond hair. Super cute.”

  She glances over at him. He’s still staring at her. He smiles at her and then starts to walk toward us.

  “What do I do?” she says to me, panicked.

  “Talk to him,” I say, giving her a little shove forward. “I’ll be back soon with drinks for us.”

  Just as the cute guy reaches her, I disappear and go off in search of alcohol.

  I head to where I think the kitchen might be. I’m just about to push the door open but pause when I hear my name mentioned.

  “Hey, did you see that Morgan Stickford’s here?”

  I know the voice, but I’m struggling to place it.

  “I thought she’d didn’t do parties.”

  “She doesn’t usually,” another male voice says.

  “I’m thinking I might give her a try tonight,” the first voice says.

  Oh, wow. Some guy is saying that he wants to hit on me. Even if he’s not my type, it’s still really nice to hear that I’ve caught a guy’s interest.

  A voice laughs. “Hartwell’s going for the fatty again tonight to ensure he gets his dick wet.”

  Fatty.

  I take in a sharp breath. Instant tears prick at my eyes. I suck them back.

  “You mock, but the fat ones always give it up easier. They’re so fucking desperate for attention, they’ll spread their legs at the click of a finger.”

  Dean Hartwell.

  He was in my economics class last year. Seemed like a nice guy. Clearly, he’s not.

  I wrap my arms over my chest, my insides trembling with hurt.

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  I was feeling so good about myself earlier. But now…

  I glance down at the dress I’m wearing, and all I can see are lumps and bumps.

  I pull at the fabric to loosen it. To try and hide what I forgot for a while was there.

  Fat.

  I want to go home.

  And then do what? Eat? Cry?

  Well, it would be a hell of a lot better than standing here, listening to a bunch of guys calling me fat.

  I step away from the door. But…if I leave, Joely will want to come with me. And I don’t want to spoil her night. Not now that she’s met some guy she might like.

  For Joely’s sake, I just need to suck it up and go in there to get our beers.

  They probably won’t even notice me anyway.

  I take a few hundred deep breaths. Then, I gingerly push the kitchen door open.

  The sound of male laughter assaults my ears. At first, I think they’re laughing at me again, but with one quick glance, I see they’re not even looking my way.

  As my eyes pull away, I catch sight of Wilder, and my heart bangs painfully against my chest.

  He’s in the group. Standing with those guys who were just calling me fat.

  He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes down, focused on his cell phone.

  “You’ve been on your phone since you fucking got here,” one of the guys says to Wilder. “What—or should I say, who has got you so interested?”

  “No one.”

  Wilder goes to pocket his cell, but the guy snatches it before he can.

  “Holy fucking shit!” the guy crows. “Cross is getting titty pics from some chick!”

  “What? Let me see!” Hartwell makes a grab for the phone.

  But the guy ho
lding it moves it out of his way, and instead, he turns the screen around for everyone to see.

  Me included.

  Even from my spot at the other side of the kitchen, I can see the picture. It’s a nude. Well, she’s wearing panties but nothing on top, her large breasts on show.

  My heart sinks to my feet.

  Wilder was standing there, sexting with some girl who liked to send nudes, while those guys were calling me fat, and he said nothing.

  But then I shouldn’t expect anything else from him. Because he is one of those guys.

  “Shiiit! That is one impressive fucking rack!” one of them hoots.

  Wilder jabs the guy holding the phone in the stomach, and as the guy bends over from the hit, Wilder grabs his phone from his hand.

  “Fucking pricks,” Wilder grunts.

  “Hey, Cross, you should send that pic to Hartwell. He needs it more than you do. He can jerk to it when he’s home alone later.”

  At the mention of Dean’s name, I put my head down and make a beeline for the keg.

  I’m just filling up my second cup of beer when I hear my name.

  I freeze. Then, I look up.

  Dean Hartwell is standing right near me. A beer in his hand.

  My eyes flicker to the group of guys he’s with. They’re all talking. Wilder is back on his phone. I look back to Dean.

  “Hey, Dean,” I say quietly.

  The cup is full, so I flip the lever on the keg, pick my other beer up, and turn to leave, but Dean stops me.

  “Hey, where you going?”

  “Drinks. I have to take my friend her drink.”

  “Stay. Chat with me for a bit.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. I always do that when I’m nervous.

  My eyes flicker to the group. Wilder’s still on his phone.

  “So, how was your summer?” Dean asks me.

  “It was good, thanks.”

  “Cool. Mine, too. I spent it in Europe with my family.”

  “Sounds nice,” I say because I don’t know what else to say. I just know that I want to get out of here and back to Joely.

  “Yeah, it was great,” he says. Then, he takes a step closer.

  I suck in a breath and fight the urge to run, as I don’t want to give them another reason to laugh at me.

  “So”—Dean reaches up and tucks some of my hair behind my ear, and I shudder on the inside—“I thought about you a lot over the summer.”