We park and Sophie bursts out of her car laughing, holding out her arms and spinning, doing the Wonder Woman thing with a bag from Hot and Big in her right hand.
“All right.” I head on out. “Time to nourish your superpowers.” I collapse the tailgate on the back of the truck and help pull Sophie in. Her tiny hand grips mine for dear life, twice in one day.
Sophie lands against me, and we do a little dance before I steady her. My hands accidentally slide up her soft sweater. It’s amazing that she looks exactly the way I remember, but those blowup doll lips, those glowing doe eyes make her hot as fuck.
“Rules,” I say it as sweetly as possible, and she tips her head back, her chest bubbling with laughter. Back in the day whenever Mindy and Sophie entered my room, I would bark that word out with the ferocity of a drill sergeant. “We don’t talk about Fight Club.” Sophie rolls her eyes as I say it. “Clearly you’re unimpressed with my sarcastic superpowers. I’m not being sarcastic by the way.”
“I’m super impressed. Please go on.” Her hands slide up and down my flannel before her eyes grow wild and she takes a step away. “Sorry.” Her voice grows small as she heads to the back of the truck bed, and I join her as we take a seat next to one another, thighs touching, her body warm against mine. There’s enough space to spread out, but I’m not fighting her on any space issues. The truth is, I like being close to Soph. Hell, I loved having her in my arms, my tongue buried in her mouth, but I’m not about to go there again.
“No talking about siblings or family or exes,” I continue. “Does that cover all the toxic bases?”
“I’m sort of a toxic base.” She pulls out a clear plastic box revealing an unappetizing salad with a fork inside the box. “And you’re sort of a toxic home plate complete with primordial ooze.” She pops the lid and douses her greens with a gallon of ranch dressing.
“Touché. No talking about me. I like that.” A lot. In fact, I wish half the student body at Leland would invoke that rule.
Sophie gives a devilish wink. “That’s one rule I won’t comply with.”
I pull my burger out, extra cheese, extra onions, the works, and she sniffs at it and makes a face.
“What’s with the bunny food?” I tap my hand over her bag, and it flattens. “Where’s your burger?”
“I’m a vegetarian now.” She stabs at her food like she’s trying to kill it. “Except I eat fish and turkey and of course all crustaceans. So anytime you want to feed me sushi or a complete Thanksgiving meal, please feel free to do so.”
Something warms in me at the thought of sharing more than one meal with Sophie.
“So, we’re good?” I take an aggressive bite of my burger as if trying to play off the fact I wasn’t already riveted by her answer.
“We’re good—so long as you stick with your stupid rules.” She gives a little wink, and my gut pinches. Sophie is gorgeous. There. I said it. The first step in working through any problem is identifying it. Not that Sophie’s stunning looks are a problem. The problem is, my tongue has found its way into her mouth quite recently, and it misses that warm minty place as if it were its home. Not to mention the fact my arms have made a quick habit of finding their way around her waist, and right about now they’re aching to hold her. No matter how much I try to fight it, she’s invoking a hard-on in me that is about to present a big obvious problem very damn soon.
“My stupid rules are brilliant,” I’m quick to remind her. “Speaking of brilliant, welcome to Leland. You having fun?”
“Yeah, it’s been great. I’ve actually made friends with people. In the event you don’t recall, I can’t stand most earthly inhabitants. I find the masses rude and pretentious.”
“Speaking of rude and pretentious, how’s it going with the guys?” My stomach boils just asking the question. I’m protective over Soph just like I am with Mindy.
“Great.” She butts her shoulder into mine, wrinkling her nose, looking cuter than hell. “There is this one guy, though. He’s kind of a stalker at this point. He trapped me in a dark room and shoved his tongue so far down my throat it nearly tore my hymen.”
“Shit.” I bury my face in my hands a moment in lieu of a laugh.
“And those octopus hands? Don’t get me started on the feel up this guy stages whenever he gets the chance. It’s okay, though. What with the molestation he pulls off, my boobs were starting to feel like orphans.”
“I have not touched your boobs.” A dull laugh pumps from me because it pained me to say it. “Okay. Scratch the boy stuff.”
“Eww!” She gives me a firm shove, nearly knocking the burger out of my hand, and I laugh so hard I nearly tip over. “I will not scratch your boy stuff. You’re so bossy. I’m sure the other girls are licking it up literally, but please refrain from all sexual euphemisms whenever I’m around.”
“Okay, stop.” I squeeze my eyes shut just trying to get a grip. I forgot what a big sarcastic ball of fun Soph could be. It’s amazing how natural this feels, as if a single day didn’t tick by without her. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” My laughter dies down. “Let’s just drop it. So, what’s new with you? What did I miss?” My heart sinks because already it feels like I’ve missed so much. All the good times we could have shared was replaced with pain, at least on my part.
“Let’s see.” She steals a fry, so I land the bag on her lap. “I bleed once a month now. That’s pretty big news. For sure you missed that.” I take the bag back, and she barks out a laugh. I’m well aware of the fact she bleeds, but only because I was around while she was doing it. When Sophie first got her period, her dad and Braden were so freaked out they deemed her a no-fly zone. But I had witnessed my mom deliver enough bowls of chocolate ice cream to Mindy’s room once a month, treating her with kid gloves as if she had the flu, so whenever Braden mentioned Soph was on the rag, I made a special trip to the grocery store and brought her a bowl of ice cream in bed. “My dad ponied up for me to have a mani/pedi twice a month. That’s his way of making sure I keep in touch with my feminine side.” My heart breaks. When her mother died, my mom tried to step in. Plus, Mindy was there for her. But once everything went to shit, that ended, too. All I could think of was the fact I left her with Becca the pariah. “I dyed my hair a notch darker. I’m sure you can tell it’s a whole half shade more dramatic than ever.” She rubs the top of her head over my nose.
“It is stunning.” My heart wallops when I say that last word. Honestly, I can’t tell. Sophie has always had reddish dark hair that reminded me of Cherry Coke, but Sophie is stunning, and that’s probably as close as I’ll ever get to saying it to her face.
She looks up, her lips playfully pursed as if she’s irritated. “I’m lying. And really? Stunning?” She sticks her finger down her throat and pretends to gag. “Oh, and by the way, I’m a liar now, too. So, what’s new with you? I heard you transformed your woody into an amusement park ride. Do you charge admission, or are you giving away rides for free?”
A groan whips though me. “Yup. That’s right. Free. If you know anyone looking for a good time, just send her my way.” I rub my shoulder against hers playfully. “Oh, and by the way, I’m a liar now, too.”
“Looks like we have something in common.”
We turn to face one another at the same time, and our lips land a breath away.
“I have an idea.” She swallows hard. “How about we take a break from all the lies and each spill a single truth?”
A single truth. Sophie wants to get real, and a part of me does, too. And more than that, my arms are aching to find their way around her tiny body. After an hour of holding her, after every interaction we’ve had over the last three weeks that involved some intertwining of our bodies, my greedy balls say this isn’t nearly close enough. I want more of her. More than I ever should be able to attain.
“What’s your truth?” I give her a gentle nudge. “You still snore like an eighty year-old-man when you sleep?”
“I have never snored!” she p
ractically screams, laughing. She’s back to lying. I used to tease her mercilessly about that symphony she’d conduct in her sleep. I could have left the nightly bagpipes off the table, but I wasn’t about to let the golden opportunity to drive her mad slip through my fingers. It seemed for a time, I lived to drive her insane. It was too much fun not to. “Okay”—she takes a deep breath—“my truth is that I was sure you would have said no the day I was about to ask you to prom.” Her eyes grow large, her face smooths out losing its smile, that sparkle in her dies down. “Is it true? Would you have said no to going to the prom with me?”
My eyes close a moment, and I softly bang my head against the back of my truck. “That’s not a truth, Soph—that’s a sneaky way to ask a question.” And I love that about Sophie. She hasn’t changed one bit.
“Okay, then answer my sneaky question.”
“I don’t know, Soph.” I tip my head back and stare up at the lavender sky as afternoon gives way to evening. If I tell her the truth—I’ll have to tell myself the truth, and I don’t like to revisit anything to do with that point in my life.
“It’s not rocket science. It’s a yes or no question.”
“I would have said no.” My eyes stay trained on the sky as the stars pop into view one by one as if God himself were penciling them in.
“No?” Her entire body jerks away from mine. “Really?” She gives a light swat over my chest. “You’re kidding, right? You were my best friend. Why would you have said no? Becca wouldn’t have cared.” Her voice grows shrill. “It was just a stupid dance. It’s not like I was going to trap you in a dark room and do my best to jump your bones.”
“I mean, I would have said no.” A smile twitches on my lips because for the first time in years I can feel a confession bubbling to the surface, and it feels good, damn good. It’s time to get my truth out. I’m not sure what she’ll do with it, but, hey, she asked and I’m all in.
“No?” Her features crumble as the air stills around us as if all of nature were waiting with bated breath for my response.
“No.” I pump my shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal.
Sophie jumps up, sending her salad flying like some lettuce filled piñata. “You are so freaking lame, Rowen!” She lets out a cry of frustration as she hops to the ground, only to realize she left her purse behind.
“You want this?” I dangle it in front of her, and just as she’s about to swipe it out of my hands, I lift it out of reach.
“AAARGH!” she cries so loud an entire flock of birds flies from their perch. “I hate you, Rowen Garret! Now give me back my purse!” Her voice comes back as an echo, and I’m forced to listen to those horrible words twice.
“You’re a liar, remember?” I try to hold back a laugh, but it rumbles from me anyway. “So that means you must love me.”
Sophie lets out another scream of frustration before jumping to snatch up her bag, but I dip it in and out of reach just to hear her grunt and growl. Her finger snags on the tassels, and she yanks it back and bolts for her car.
“Wait.” I hop down from my truck. “You can’t leave. I haven’t told my truth yet!” I hold my arms open wide, wishing to God she’d fill them. It hurts to see Sophie getting all worked up, feeling the weight of rejection without her knowing the full story. “I thought you said it was just a stupid dance?”
She ducks into her car and pauses with her hand on the door. That devastated look on her face lets me know I’ve gone too far. “The only thing stupid around here is you! You’re a jerk!” She slams the door shut and speeds the hell out of the woods, leaving me to breathe her fumes. The dirt rising in her wake coats my face and clothes.
“What about my truth, Soph?” I shout to the dust pluming my way.
The truth is, no, I wouldn’t have said yes because she never would have asked me.
I was going to ask her first.
Friday afternoon, just as I’m about to take off for the locker room, a gentle knock falls over my door. Too light to be Boomer, too polite to be Mindy.
My adrenaline spikes and my body heats because a part of me wants it to be Sophie. But in truth, it could be any number of soft-footed girls willing to give a gentle knock to my door right before they give a hard yank to my dick. This is one of those moments I wish I had a peephole.
“What’s up?” I say before swinging the door open and coming face to face with the only girl on the planet I never care to see. Becca Carmichael. “Shit.” I close my eyes a moment, but when I open them, she’s still staining my doorway. The nightmare is real. “What do you want?”
“Hello to you, too.” She walks right past me, jutting her shoulder into mine as she makes her way into my bedroom. Her lips are an obnoxious shade of purple, and her eyelashes actually look as if they might escape her face and start crawling all over the room. Becca always has been a bit theatrical when it comes to the war paint. “So this is where the magic happens,” she purrs as she runs her finger over my mattress.
“It is, and you’re polluting my fantasy world, so if you don’t mind, I’m late to the locker room. Game starts in an hour.”
“That’s right.” Her eyes bug out as she struts on over. She’s dressed for success in the bedroom, low-cut top, high-cut skirt, heels to the ceiling. Becca is knocking on the wrong door if she’s looking to get her needs met. “It’s your big day. You’re the big man on campus.” Her hand glides over the boys as if she had any right, and I take a full step back.
“What the hell is wrong with you? Get out, Becca. I don’t know what shit you’re on, but you don’t have a license to come in here and touch my balls like you own them.” I lead her out to the front and open the door for her. “Hop back on your broomstick and fly the hell out.”
She charges at me, slamming the door shut with her hand. “I’m here to tell you something.” Her fangs peer out as her nostrils flare. Anger has never been a good look on her. Too bad, because it’s an emotion she runs to often. At least when I knew her it was.
“You have five seconds.”
“I thought it was nice to see you the other night.” Her brows knit as her anger quickly dissipates. “It reminded me of the good times we once shared.” Her lips quiver like she might cry. For fuck’s sake, don’t cry, Becca. “I thought maybe it was time I shared something with you. All those years ago—about a month before we broke it off, something bad happened, and I wasn’t ready to talk about it.” She clears her throat. Her gaze falls to the floor before she spikes those black eyes into mine. “We made a baby together, Rowen.” My body freezes solid. “I didn’t realize it until a week before I lost it. I bled for hours in my bathroom before my mother took me to the hospital and I had a D and C. I was almost four months.” She wipes an errant tear from her face. “Anyway, I just thought it was time you knew. We had a baby together, and I lost it. That’s all.” She blinks into me while her lips twitch to keep from losing it. Becca storms out of the room and slams the door like a gunshot.
I stagger backward and take a seat on the couch.
Holy shit. A baby? It can’t be. I’m the fucking condom king. I always have been, always will be. I glance over to my room and spot a box on the dresser. I’ve read its ridiculous warning before. I know anything can happen.
I try to think back to those times when Becca was the only thing my bed knew. Did I ever forgo protection? The truth is, I can’t remember. Is any of this even true, or is this some low blow she’s dealt just to get into my head again. Becca is the queen of manipulation. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to lure me into her mindfuck for old times’ sake. But she’s with Braden now. Why would she want to screw that up?
I take off for the locker room, get myself together, and hit the field. The crowd is pumped and screaming as I run out to the fifty and give a thumbs-up to my sister and parents already cheering me on. I head over to Boomer who’s working the student section into a frenzy, and the crowd pumps up ten times louder. As much as I want to get pumped myself, my head is still back in the ro
om where Becca ripped my heart out. She knew I had a game. She knew the worst time to tell me that I had a child, that I lost a child was at that moment. It can’t be true, can it?
My eyes snag on a beautiful girl, glowing hazel eyes, glossy hair the color of Cherry Coke—Sophie. She stops her celebratory howls as soon as our eyes connect, and then, as if a light switch goes off, she gives a cheery wave and blows me a kiss.
And just like that, all the worries in the world drift right off my shoulders. I play my best all night long.
I had to.
Sophie is watching.
Trial and Error
Sophie
In short, the game was fab. Yes, Rowen stole the show. Yes, he had every single ovary in that stadium popping each time he took command of the field. There was something spectacular about seeing him on that big screen, his perfect face blown up to the size of a Cadillac. My heart thumped so loud both Vi and Ember thought I had strapped a bomb to my chest.
Then in what is quickly growing to be an after game ritual, the three of us hop over to the Underground to whoop up our home turf victory with the rest of the Cougar family.
No sooner do we get there than I spot Braden and Becca sitting near the bar.
“Whoa.” I marvel at the two of them happily drinking beers, Becca with a goofy grin on her face, and my brother looking like he’s about to kill somebody. “I’ll be back. Something is wrong in the great state of Meyer-ville.” Not that Becca is a Meyer, but with the way things seem to be progressing between the two of them, some serious bling seems imminent at some point in the future. My mind drifts back to Rowen. I can’t imagine how weird for him it must have been to have the girl he was in love with, bedding on a regular basis, suddenly doing those same things with a boy who was more or less a brother to him. I’ve never been Becca’s biggest fan—most likely because we’ve never really clicked, but seeing them both here has me panicked. Everyone on campus knows the team is bound to show up at some point tonight. It’s practically a Cougar ritual.
[The Social Experiment 01.0] The Social Experiment Page 11
