You Before Me

by Lindsay Paige

  You Before Me

  Lindsay Paige

  You Before Me

  Copyright 2014 by Lindsay Paige

  Smashwords Edition

  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give or sell this book to anyone else.

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  All rights reserved. Except for the use of short passages for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced, in part or in whole, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or any information retrieval system, without prior permission in the form of writing by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products, or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner.

  Cover Designed by: Damonza

  Edited by: K² Editing

  Dedication

  To my writing BFF, Mary Smith.

  You are more amazing than words could ever describe.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Ryan

  Chapter Two: Ryan

  Chapter Three: Gabe

  Chapter Four: Ryan

  Chapter Five: Gabe

  Chapter Six: Ryan

  Chapter Seven: Gabe

  Chapter Eight: Ryan

  Chapter Nine: Gabe

  Chapter Ten: Ryan

  Chapter Eleven: Gabe

  Chapter Twelve: Ryan

  Chapter Thirteen: Gabe

  Chapter Fourteen: Ryan

  Chapter Fifteen: Gabe

  Chapter Sixteen: Ryan

  Chapter Seventeen: Gabe

  Epilogue: Ryan

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Coming Soon

  Books by Lindsay Paige

  Chapter One

  Ryan

  This is me on top of the world. I'm on my hands and knees while one of the frat boys, (Tim, maybe?), has my hips clutched tightly in his hands as he thrusts into me. It's ironic that the music in the background is about wanting to know my fantasy. This isn't it. He doesn't last much longer and he's already pulling away. Damn it. If I was a wee bit sober, I'd make him come back and finish me off too. No problem. I can do it myself. He left, who knows where, so I fall onto my back on the bed. My legs are spread open, and my hand reaches down to get the job done.

  “Seriously, Ryan?” he says, entering the room just as I finish. Hey, at least he knows my name. More than I can say for myself about him.

  “Should have done it for me,” I slur, singing the last part a little. Satisfied and too drunk to hold my eyes open any longer, I pass out before he can say anything else.

  When I wake up, I'm still naked and my head is pounding like there's a jackhammer grinding into my skull. Fuck, this sucks. I wipe my cruddy feeling eyes and have some sort of contentedness that I'm alone in frat-boy's room, if it's even his room to start with. My memory is hazy, so I still don't know who he is. The room doesn't have any obvious clues either. Oh well. My mouth tastes gross, and I'm immediately dying to brush my teeth. Ugh. I have to get back to my place first. Thank God for rich parents. At least they are good for something. I get to live off campus for free.

  I begin a search around the room for my clothes, but all I find are my bra, thong, and shirt. After looking for a solid minute, I give up on my pants. I can drive home without them. While I was in high school, I became a pro at sneaking in and out of the house, and this will be no different. My parents weren't opposed to me going out, but being sneaky about it was so much more fun. There's a thrill that comes with it, and when they didn't care I was leaving, I decided to pretend the stakes were higher. So I would sneak in and out of my house like I would be in serious trouble if I got caught. I can easily do this. For one, it's my house. The tricky part will be that it's broad daylight, and I'm not wearing pants. No biggie. I got this.

  With my shoulders squared and my head held high, I walk out of the frat house filled with more passed out bodies, my heels dangling from two of my fingers. My eyes squint once I open the door, and I groan. Fucking sun. I shield my eyes with my hand and spot my car parked by the curb. Thank you, sober Ryan. Looks like I was smart enough to park close to the building. I run to my car, open the little, square door to the gas cap, grab my keys, and then slide into the driver's seat.

  See? Like a pro. I should be a pro by now, not because the amount of time I've been doing this, but for the number of times I've done this. I grab a scrunchie from my gear shift and throw my wavy, dark red hair up. Then I put on my sunglasses to help with that god-awful sunlight before finally pulling away to drive home. Now, I feel like I could conquer the world. Last night wasn't a good example of my normal Saturday nights, so I'm ready to get home, shower the filthiness away, and brush my damn teeth.

  I hate Sunday mornings. Hate. Them. We're near a college town for God's sake. Why does everyone drive like old people who are loafing around on a lazy Sunday evening? Why? To piss me off probably. I've already given two people the finger as I passed them. I am so that driver that everyone hates and pisses people off. How it happened, I'm not sure. I still have a good fifteen minutes to go when the worst sound in the world begins.

  Sirens. Blaring loudly to alert me of the unwanted presence behind me.

  Fucking cop. Great. Just what I need this morning.

  I pull onto the side of the road and attempt to make my shirt cover more of my thighs, but it's useless. Well, let's hope this guy likes legs and then I can get away with a warning. He steps out of his car, so I roll my window down while he walks up to me.

  Smiling my sexy grin, I sweetly say, “Good morning, Officer.”

  He's older than I am and very hot. His name tag simply reads: O'Connor. I can't see much of his hair, but I know it's brown as are his eyes and beard, which is a little thick. His eyes immediately land on my bare legs, and I swear he blushes. What kind of man blushes? This should easily be a warning, though. He quickly focuses on my face.

  “License and registration, please.”

  “Yes, sir.” I lean over, probably giving him a view of my bare ass, as I reach into the glove compartment for the registration. “My license is in my purse, which is in my backseat. One moment,” I tell him, holding up my index finger once I've handed over his first request. If he didn't see my ass before, he certainly does now.

  “Why,” he clears his throat as he looks over the license I gave him, “aren't you dressed?”

  My shoulders lift and fall in a shrug as if this isn't a big deal. “I stayed over at a friend's and misplaced my jeans. I got tired of looking. Aren't you a little young to be a cop?”

  I'm half expecting that to piss him off, but he just chuckles and gets back to business. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”

  “I was obviously doing something I shouldn't have been doing. Are you going to give me a speeding ticket or something?” Intentionally, I pull the corner of my lower lip between my teeth. Guys love when I bite my lip. “Unless you have a better idea of what to do with me?” I question hopefully.

  “Ma'am,” he begins, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks, but my big mouth decides to interrupt him.

  “Ma'am? Am I over fifty?” My headache
grows, and I decide to give in. “Just give me my ticket already. How fast was I going anyway?”

  Apparently, that wasn't a good thing to say to him. His eyes narrow, his lips a flat line. “Seeing how you're already having a bad, pants-less morning, I was going to give you a warning. But since you are obviously hungover, even though you've yet to reach the legal drinking age, and since you asked for a ticket, I'll surely give it to you. Stay put.” And then he walks back to his car.

  What? Can this morning get any worse? Let's hope not. I wait rather patiently for Officer O'Connor to return with my ticket, a rock song about American boys playing quietly on the radio. When he does, he hands the piece of paper to me with a gleaming smile.

  Bastard.

  “Here you go, Ms. Kavanaugh. Stay out of trouble, will ya?”

  I glare at him before looking at my ticket to see how fast I was going. 73 in a 55. “Can I go now?”

  “Certainly. Have a good day.”

  “Whatever,” I mumble as he walks back to his car.

  With a sigh, I toss my violation into the seat and head home once and for all. The first thing I do is go to the bathroom for a shower. Stray pieces of my hair are sticking out, and I look terrible to say the least. No wonder he didn't let me off easy, even with a look at my ass. One measly ticket to tarnish my previously spotless driving record. I can deal. I'm sure once my parents find out, they'll add speeding maniac to my list of traits that further disappoint them.

  I decide that I don't want a shower, but a bubble bath. I need to chill for a bit and not worry about anything else. While the tub is filling with water and bubbles begin to form, I plug my cell into my speaker system, open it to my playlist, and hit shuffle before undressing. The water is the perfect temperature as I submerge my body. This is what I need to cure my hangover, my bad morning, and fleeting memories of a hot cop who turned out to be an ass. Sundays are my lazy days, so this bath is the perfect way to re-start my morning. I'll just hang out here, rejuvenate, and I'll be ready for the new school week tomorrow.

  I'm wrinkly and almost asleep to the sound of a deep voice singing about slow kisses when my best friend, Vivian, barges into my bathroom.

  “Thank goodness you're in the tub,” she says with relief as she puts the toilet seat down and sits on it.

  “Why are you in my apartment and in my bathroom?” I close my eyes again, not caring in the least that she's in here right now.

  “I need to talk to you. You gave me a key, so here I am. I know today is your alone day or whatever the hell you call it, but this is important.”

  “Well, it's not like my day has gone as planned so far. What's up?” I ask.

  She jumps in to complain about her boyfriend. Viv suspects he's cheating, and she wants me to go with her to spy on him. She begins to tell me her elaborate plan of how we can do this. It makes me wonder how long she's thought he was cheating.

  “So what do you say?”

  I peek an eye open. Viv looks nervous, probably thinking I'm going to say no. “Why are you with him if you don't trust him? What's the point?”

  Viv frowns. “It's not that I don't trust him. I'm a little insecure, I guess.”

  That makes me feel bad. “Sure, I'll go with you. Let me know when, and I'll be there.”

  “Thanks, Ryan. I better go. Catch ya later.” She stands and leaves me be.

  She's ruined my bath for me, though. I drain the water and then take a shower. The rest of my day is spent relaxing with a little homework mixed in. My mind wanders to my parents. They are probably at church doing holy activities. If I walked on the same side of the street in front of a church, I would probably catch on fire. Religion and I don't really get along. My parents have always tried to force it on me and being the little rebel that I am, I dug my heels in, full force. I rather leave that aspect of life alone until I want to deal with it and discover just what I do believe.

  Back to my parents, I haven't talked to them in a month. They've called, but I haven't answered. College has freed me of them and the massive failure that I am every time they see me. But that's not what today is about. Today is for me to relax, and that's just what I'm going to do.

  * * *

  Viv meets me for our first class with my favorite drink, Sunkist. I don't question her kindness. As usual, I'm running behind. The orange drink fuels me, so I'm thankful for it, no matter why she brought it.

  “Thanks,” I say, holding up my bottle.

  “Welcome. I asked him to go out Wednesday, but he gave me some lame excuse about needing to study. I figured that would be a good day to see what's really going on.”

  I nod, not able to say more because our professor walks in to begin his lecture. Part of me wants to tell her to confront him or break up with him already. She obviously doesn't trust him. Viv can say it's because she's insecure all she wants, but it can't all be her. What the hell do I know anyway? I'm the single, wild girl who sleeps with frat boys and gets a speeding ticket while pants-less. No wonder my parents think I'm a disappointment.

  Later, during lunch, I tell Viv that I'm thinking about getting another tattoo.

  “Are you trying to cover your entire body, Ryan?” She asks with a shake of her head.

  “You sound like my mother.” I don't know why I tell her these things, aside from the default that she's my best friend, but her frown irritates me. It's not her body; why does it bother her?

  “Maybe she has a point. You already have three.”

  “Are you sure you're not an old lady hiding in a young girl's body? Because that's what you sound like. Besides, what's wrong with tattoos?” I love my tats. Getting them are addictive, and as long as they mean something to me, what's the harm? Each one has a story that I get to tell every time someone asks me about them.

  “Nothing. I just don't like them. Are you going with me to the party this weekend?” She asks, changing the subject.

  “Hell yeah, I'm going.”

  We talk about the party for a bit before going our separate ways for our next class. Later, when I'm on my way home, my mother calls. I groan before answering. It's time to stop ignoring them. Especially when they're going to pay for my ticket.

  “Hello,” I fake a cheery greeting.

  “Ryan, hello. How are you?”

  “I'm great. I was about to call you,” I lie.

  “I'm sure you were, dear. There's no sense in lying, you know. Anyway, I'm calling to check in and make sure that you aren't wasting our money. Have you picked a major yet?”

  Of course. That's why she's calling. “No, I'm not wasting your precious money and no, I haven't picked a major yet. I still have time.”

  She goes on and on, telling me that I don't have time. That I need to decide as soon as possible. Blah, blah, blah. After about ten minutes of her ranting, I do the most mature thing I can think of.

  “Mom, you're breaking up. We'll talk later. Bye.” And I hang up.

  This week really sucks so far. Hopefully, spying on Viv's boyfriend will be fun instead of another thing to add to my list of things that have gone wrong. However, my mother's words stick with me. I'm only nineteen and in my second year of college. I'm still taking general ed classes. I have no clue what I want to major in. That's a huge decision to make. I'll seal the fate of my future with that choice. How am I supposed to decide right now what I want to do with the rest of my life? It's intimidating, and I rather not think about it.

  So I don't.

  Chapter Two

  Ryan

  “What are you doing?” Viv asks, coming up behind me. She's entering my apartment yet again without even knocking.

  I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop on my lap, searching for tattoo ideas with hopes of being inspired. “Looking for my next tattoo. Is it time to become stalkers?”

  “Yep.”

  It's almost nine, and I'm already decked out in black jeans, a t-shirt, and a beanie. Viv looks similar minus the beanie. She's got her hair up though. I close my laptop and follow her ou
t to her car.

  “I feel like we should be wearing leather and high-heel boots. Instead, we look like bums hunting for our next fix.”

  Viv laughs. “Shut up. Do you want to know the plan or not?” She backs out of the complex's parking lot, and I tell her to go ahead. “He's supposed to be home, so we're going there first. We'll do a drive by, and if he's home alone, we're trusting his word. If not, we're going to figure out who is there with him. That's as far as I've planned.”

  I rub my hands together evilly, knowing I want a good thrill to come from this. “We have to sneak around his house at least once. Otherwise, my outfit is pointless.”

  “Fine,” she huffs, unhappy that I'm not taking this seriously.

  We pull up to the curb, a few houses down from his house. There are two cars in the driveway. It's not looking good so far.

  “Whose car is that?” I ask.

  Viv eyebrows are pulled together as she frowns, heartbroken already. “I don't know. I've never seen it before.”

  “Let's go find out who's fucking your boyfriend.” That was probably too blunt based on Viv's wince. She had to at least be somewhat prepared for this, though. She expected this was going on in the first place. I get out before she can object and she scurries to catch up.

  “We're going to be damn good spies. I'll peek, and you be the look out. Got it?”

  She nods. Crouching, we run up to his house, then walk with our backs against the side until we reach a window. I glance at Viv to make sure she's doing her part and then I put my fingers on the window sill, standing on my tiptoes to look in. I have the perfect view of the living room, even though sheer white curtains are in my way.