Sweet tb-2

by Erin McCarthy

  Like he wouldn’t cave if I asked him for a sip. Feeling happy, sticky, and proud of myself, I took his keys and went to the car to get my phone. When I came back he was holding a giant beer stein and wearing a Viking hat.

  “Wow, you’ve never been hotter.” And I kind of meant it.

  “You came in tenth out of forty-five in your age bracket,” he said. “Good job.”

  “Thanks. That’s not bad considering I didn’t know what I was doing. How did you finish overall in your bracket?”

  “Second.”

  “Woot.” I gave him another high five. “You are awesome.”

  “Thanks.” He kissed me, and I tasted the beer on his breath.

  “So. Thirsty. Dying.”

  He grinned. “Take a sip, but if you get caught, I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

  “Yeah, right.” I took a quick sip, shielding myself from view by leaning over and letting my hair fall in front of me. The cup was down by his waist.

  “This looks really inappropriate,” he said. “I’m getting a boner because of it.”

  About time. “Then let’s go home.” I stood up and eyed him. “I’m feeling dirty,” I said in a flirty voice.

  Riley put his arm around me as we headed toward the car. “We can fix that.”

  He better mean fix it in the way I wanted to fix it. “How about a hot, wet shower?”

  I wasn’t exactly being subtle, but he didn’t respond in the way I wanted him to. He just said, “I need food first, I’m starving.”

  “Of course you are.” Not exactly what I wanted to hear.

  I was consoled by the fact that when we got in the car, Riley showed no concern for his upholstery and pushed me backward, kissing me with a ferocity he hadn’t shown since our first real make out session, his hand brushing over my breast.

  Yes. That’s what I wanted. That hot, deep slide into oblivion, that tingling over my skin, wet tongues and tight nipples.

  But he pulled back just as I was getting into it. As he put the key in the ignition, I was sideways, knee up, on my elbows, breathless and unsatisfied.

  WTF.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “That’s a good look on you,” Tyler said when I walked in the front door. He was reclining on the couch, his phone up to his ear, a burger bag on the coffee table. “By the way, Rory wants to know why you’re not answering her texts and if you’re avoiding her for some unknown weird girl reason. Those are my words, not hers.”

  I kicked off my shoes by the front door. “I’m not avoiding her.” Not much anyway. Just slightly, because I didn’t want to talk about Riley with her. I didn’t know what to say. We like each other? That felt so lame. Nor was I going to share my fear that Riley didn’t want to have sex with me. Rory would say he was respecting me or some such crap like that, but I knew that even guys who respect you want to bang you.

  Besides, I wasn’t comfortable sharing my emotions. What I was feeling was new and different and I wanted to keep it in a private little box labeled Mine, Mine, Mine. If I tried to talk about Riley, I wouldn’t be able to express myself, because I didn’t even understand completely what I felt.

  But I didn’t want my friend thinking I was mad at her. “Give me the phone.” I held out my hand.

  “No. You’re covered in mud. Besides, I’m talking to her. You can call her later.”

  “Rory, your boyfriend is a controlling dick,” I said loudly so she would hear me. “He’s keeping us apart for no reason.”

  Tyler laughed and threw a balled-up fast food napkin at me. I caught it. Riley put his own fast food bag down next to Tyler’s and was about to sit on the easy chair when I said, “Halt! Change your shorts first.”

  “I’m dry,” he protested.

  “No. You’ll crumble and flake off all over the furniture.” I wasn’t budging on that. I couldn’t regulate his appalling diet, but I could force him to keep the house clean.

  “Who is the controlling dick in this room?” Riley asked, but he just stood over the coffee table and started eating his burger hovering there.

  “Can I borrow some clean clothes?”

  “Yep. Everything is going to be too big on you though.” Riley took another huge bite of his burger.

  “Whatever. I’m taking a shower.” I paused, pointedly.

  “Okay.”

  That was it. Riley was still focused on his beef. Tyler, who had gotten off the phone, seemed to get that I was extending an invitation. He raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother like he was an idiot. It was a small consolation.

  “You can come with me,” I said, going for flat-out obvious.

  “I’m eating.” A fry went into his mouth.

  And that would be the cold slap of rejection. Defeated, I turned on my heel and headed to the bathroom. “Fine.”

  “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tyler asked him.

  I paused down the hallway, eavesdropping, wanting to hear Riley’s response.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re turning down a shower with your brand-new girlfriend? And don’t tell me it’s because of U and Easton, because they’re throwing a tennis ball they found at the garage door.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “I’ve known Jess longer than you.”

  Riley snorted. “No shit.”

  Ugh. I was never going to be forgiven for not having the psychic abilities that would have allowed me to avoid sex with Tyler before I met Riley.

  “Fine. I was just trying to help.”

  “I didn’t ask for help.”

  That seemed to be the end of the conversation, so I went into Riley’s room and rooted through his drawers for a shirt and basketball shorts. I chose a shirt that said “Bacon is the question and the answer” with two strips of bacon on it. Somehow I didn’t think he would miss that one if I didn’t get it back to him right away. I may have slammed the drawer harder than was necessary. My visions of a porn star shower for two were not going to happen, so I went into the bathroom and washed the mud off my body with aggressive scrubbing and efficiency.

  When I came out, thankfully swimming in Riley’s clothes, because no girl wants to discover her boyfriend’s clothes are tight on her, Riley was done with his binge eating. “Can you drive me home?” I asked, finger combing my wet hair before twisting it up into a bun to let it dry off my head.

  He looked puzzled. “You have plans or something? I thought we were hanging out.”

  “I already had plans with Robin to go to a party tonight. You and Tyler can meet us there if you want.”

  “Where’s it at?” Tyler asked.

  “Shit Shack.”

  “Okay, cool.”

  But Riley frowned. “I don’t want to go to a college party at some place called the Shit Shack.”

  “I went to the Warrior Dash,” I pointed out. I could hear the mean creeping into my voice, and I wanted to go home before it got worse. My wounded feelings were notorious for driving me into bitchy mode, and I didn’t want Riley to be on the receiving end of that mood.

  “True. Okay. What time?”

  “Ten at the earliest.”

  Riley stood up. “Can I shower before we go?”

  “Sure.” Even though I really just wanted to crawl into bed at my apartment and feel bitter.

  When he passed me he reached out and squeezed both of my breasts. “Mm. Bacon.”

  Yeah, that didn’t improve my mood.

  I turned and Tyler was watching me, and he gave a short laugh. “Don’t look at me, seriously. I don’t think I’m allowed to talk to you about, you know.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the bathroom Riley had retreated into.

  Glaring at him, I said, “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  “Okay, all I’m going to say is this—now you know what it’s like to date you.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just think about it.” Tyler got up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes. “I
’m going outside to smoke, and frankly, I don’t want to be alone with you. I don’t think Riley and I bloodying each other is going to look good in our custody case.”

  I followed him, because I didn’t want to sit in the hot house by myself. As Tyler blackened his lungs, and Easton and Jayden played some undetermined game involving a tennis ball and a sad piñata that looked like they had found it in the trash, I sat at the picnic table and reflected on Tyler’s words.

  Apparently he thought Riley and I were similar personalities.

  I could see that. Snarky. Emotionally closed off.

  But it didn’t explain why Riley was giving me the brush-off. He hadn’t even tried to touch anything on me that was within twelve inches of the erogenous zone. Well, unless you count smacking my ass in triumph or tweaking my bacon boobs. Funny how the one thing I’d always been confident about with other guys was the thing I had no handle on with Riley.

  The tennis ball bounced off the garage and nailed me on the side of the head.

  Fuck me, that hurt. My eyes teared up.

  Easton looked horrified and like I might beat him. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

  “It’s okay. Shit happens.” Which probably wasn’t appropriate to say to an eleven-year-old. I turned to Tyler. “Got any beer? I think I need one.”

  * * *

  Cracking open a beer at four was how I ended up drunk by the time I even arrived at the Shit Shack, tottering in my heels. Holding onto Robin for support, already regretting my shoes, I shoved open the screen door and scanned the crowd, alcohol buzz ringing in my ears.

  After Riley had dropped me off, Robin had come over with a bottle of vodka and cranberry juice, and it seemed the beer had broken the seal and it was a fabulous idea to start drinking. We had killed half the bottle while getting ready and eating a twelve-pack of Reese’s Cups. Considering I hadn’t really eaten all day, it was a miracle I didn’t blind myself with my mascara or electrocute myself with the hair dryer, because I was drunkity-drunk.

  Alcohol—worst coping mechanism ever.

  But at least I looked good. Or I thought I looked good puckering up in front of my mirror, fluffing my hair and adjusting the cleavage on my strapless red jersey shirt. I had on tiny denim shorts and sky-high wedge sandals in a red and hot pink stripe. For some reason I felt compelled to put on seventy-two bracelets and carelessly discarded my cross necklace on the dresser. I wasn’t in the mood for Jesus.

  I was in the mood for dancing. For laughing. For flirting.

  Maybe Riley didn’t think that I was hot, but other guys did. It wasn’t going to hurt to look good and have a little appreciation tossed my way.

  “OMG, it’s crowded here,” Robin said, her huge earrings shaking as she scanned the room for the action.

  “Good.” It had taken twenty minutes to walk from my apartment to the house, since Robin was in no shape to be driving. You would have thought my buzz would have slowed since I hadn’t been able to drink since we’d left, but if anything I felt more drunk than I had when we started walking.

  “Jessica!” A big, brawny guy called out, holding up his arms. “Give me some love.”

  Aaron was a guy from my Dead Sea Scrolls class last semester. Like me, he was also getting a secondary degree in Religious Studies. Like me, he was also drunk.

  “What’s up?” I asked, giving him the hug he was requesting.

  “Want a drink?” He gestured to the toilet in the corner that had a pony keg resting on it.

  The Shit Shack had gotten its name from the many toilets and plumbing fixtures left over from its former life as a shop. Now it was a dumpy college rental where a revolving door of frat guys lived, and it was notorious for killer parties.

  “Sure,” I said, because my mouth was hot and dry. “This is my friend Robin.”

  “Stellar.” Aaron held up his hand to Robin for a high five. She giggled and gave him one, her tiny palm swallowed by his massive one. He gave her a look of pure sexual interest and entwined his fingers around hers so they were holding hands.

  She let him.

  Fabulous. I was not jealous of my friend, but what was with the Robin Effect lately?

  Ten minutes later, I actually was jealous. Robin and Aaron were making out and I was trying to shove myself down the narrow hallway to the back door, wanting some fresh air. My beer sloshed over the rim of my cup as someone jostled me. “Hey!”

  “Sorry.” Though the guy didn’t even look remotely sorry.

  I clung to the wall and checked my phone, almost dropping it. No text from Riley. That just further spurred my desire to have a good time. Fuck him. These were my classmates, and we were having fun. When a guy I vaguely knew from previous parties pulled me out into the yard where everyone was dancing, I let him. He tried to bootygrind and I laughed, pushing him away, keeping an arm’s length between us.

  So he changed tactics, doing some kind of swing dancing thing, flinging me around and around in circles so that I was breathless and laughing hard.

  “Dancing with the Sig Eps!” he yelled in a frat battle cry, lifting me up at the waist and spinning me around.

  “Shit!” I cried out when he lost his balance and we started to slice through the crowd, beers sloshing and bodies scattering. He ended up on his ass, and I landed with a knee in his gut.

  But it didn’t really hurt because I was trashed. Even seeing the other knee that had hit the hard-packed dirt now covered in blood and grass clippings, I didn’t really feel any pain. I just laughed and offered my hand to help him up off the ground. But when he stood, his own laughter died out and he shifted in front of me in a protective gesture. I glanced around his body to see why his tone had shifted and I realized that in the middle of a crowd of colorful tops on the girls and polo shirts and cargo shorts on the guys, Riley and Tyler were standing there in black T-shirts and jeans. They looked like a metal band had been dropped onto a college campus for a free concert. Riley’s shirt featured Ozzy Osbourne in his infamous bat-biting shot, and Tyler had a lock on a chain around his neck above his Metallica shirt. Neither looked like they belonged. Neither looked happy.

  “Can I help you?” Frat Boy asked.

  “Yes, you can,” Riley said. “You can move out of my way so I can say hello to my girlfriend.” He sounded deceptively calm. But I could see the tension in his jaw.

  But I was too drunk to sense the danger. I was just stupidly, ridiculously happy to see him. I shoved around the guy and said, “Hi, honey,” and threw my arms around him, wanting a kiss.

  He did kiss me, but he pulled back and met my eyes. “You’re drunk.”

  “Duh.” I laughed.

  “So why were you on the ground with that guy?”

  “We fell dancing.” I eyed my knee with a squint. “I think I’m bleeding.”

  “Yes, you are.” He took my hand firmly and turned to his brother. “Do you see anyone you know?”

  “Nathan’s over there. And Bill.”

  “Really?” I said, excited. “I didn’t know they were here. I should say hi!” It didn’t seem to occur to me that if Riley didn’t look at all pleased, then he probably wasn’t pleased.

  I did catch on when he frowned though. “What’s the matter?” I asked, scratching his cheeks and chin, liking the feel of his beard stubble.

  He sighed. “This isn’t really my scene.”

  “Do you have a scene?” I asked sincerely. In my drunken state, I was just remembering him saying he didn’t really have any friends, and I felt sad about that.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “No. How much did you drink?”

  “A lot of vodka cranberries. But it’s okay because I ate six peanut butter cups.”

  “Oh, yeah, that will totally prevent you from getting trashed.” Riley shook his head. “Come on, let’s find Nathan. Hell, I’ll even be glad to see Nerd Boy in this crowd. I feel like I fell into a prep school. I’ve never seen so much pink cotton in my life. And I’m about to choke on the smell of wasted money.”

 
“There’s drunk money here?” I asked. It made sense to me.

  But Riley gave a snort of laughter. “Shh, Pita, don’t talk.”

  I stuck my tongue out at the back of his head as he pulled me along through the crowd. I was aware of the other partygoers blatantly staring at us, though they parted rapidly, like they didn’t want to come into contact with Riley.

  My boyfriend, I mouthed to a group of girls who were looking scandalized. Then I winked.

  Robin had come outside with Aaron, who didn’t seem to fear Riley. He called out to me, “Shalom, Jessica.”

  “Right back at ya,” I told him with a point of my finger. Only in turning to talk to them, I didn’t notice Riley stopping. I ran into his back and bit my tongue. “Shit.”

  Riley glanced back at me. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m walking.”

  “When did you get so tall?” he asked me.

  I lifted my food to show him my high-heel wedges, only I lost my balance. I would have gone down if he hadn’t grabbed me and held me upright. “Oops.”

  But in the movement, I had accidentally kicked a guy standing by the garbage can filled with barf booze, the miscellaneous alcohol punch that anyone could pour in to, only the brave and stupid would drink out of. Before I could apologize, he shot me an angry look and said, “Watch it, you drunk cunt.”

  “Ah!” I was stunned at his venomous dig. Normally I would have a quick comeback, but I was too drunk to be quick-witted.

  But before I could do anything, Riley had dropped my hand and stepped in front of me. “Excuse me?” he asked the guy.

  “You heard me,” Douche Bag said, his hair flopping in his eyes, lip in a sneer as he eyed me. “She’s a cunt.”

  Then Douche Bag’s face was in the barf booze and it was Riley’s hand and arm shoving it there.

  Robin screamed, and Aaron dragged me backward out of the way as there was gurgling and splashing and scuffling. Tyler was wedging himself between Riley and the guy, and he was saying urgently, “Come on, man, bad idea.”

  Riley pulled the guy’s head back up and yanked him by the hair hard, tossing him to the side. Douche stumbled and sat down on the ground, swearing. “Asshole!”