He rubs his chin, face tilted toward the sky. “What you think this girl need to know?” He nods as if someone in the sky is answering his question. “You don’t say. Well, I’ll be damned.”
I’ve always known Philosopher Dan is a little kooky. I mean, the man spends his days on a street corner giving students bits of wisdom, but now I see how deep his eccentricities run.
“All righty then,” he says. He smiles straight at me. “You gotta kiss a lot of toads before you find your prince, pretty girl.” He holds his hand out for the brown paper bag.
I snatch it away. “You were talking to God, and that’s the best you can come up with?”
He rolls his eyes as if I’m the loopy one. “I was talking to an angel. Ain’t no one talk to God. That’s a one-way conversation. He may hear it, but he sends his angels to answer.”
“I know an angel did not tell you to talk about toads.” I snort at how ridiculous I sound, but I was really hoping for something good like, “You only live once so get your jollies with the hot guy next door.”
“I say it like I see it,” Dan says. “You got a long road ahead of you, pretty girl, but you gettin’ there, you gettin’ there. You ain’t gettin’ there like most other girls, but everyone got their path. Yours just a little different. A little rockier. The truth’ll come out slower.” He taps his temple. “Keep your mind sharp and your eyes open. Not everything’s what it seems.”
I hold the bag out to Dan. “I have no idea what you just said, but here’s your sandwich.”
He takes the sack and chuckles. “You bring me mustard too?”
“In the bag.” I wave good-bye and walk toward class, where I’m sure I’ll spend the whole lecture trying to figure out a believable excuse to refuse dinner with Mr. Westbrook. No point in procrastinating.
I wish I could tell Freddy about the invitation—he’s the king of weaseling out of uncomfortable situations—but he’d try to convince me that Mr. Westbrook’s hot for me. I don’t need him swaying me into believing there’s more between Mr. Westbrook and me than there really is.
I shake my head and sigh. For a girl swearing off men, I sure am eyeballs deep in them.
I’m at a small Saturday night party at the neighbors’ house, crammed into a corner of the living room while Liz drapes a hand over my shoulder. Dylan stands behind Hannah with both arms wrapped around her waist, his chin resting on top of her head. Josh is going on about a football game he played sophomore year and the interception he caught that helped win the game. His audience has beers, slightly glazed eyes, and polite smiles plastered on our faces. I can tell Liz is stifling a yawn because her gray eyes water and her smile tightens. I’m next in line for smothering a yawn, and my eyes dampen while my smile stretches in an effort to subdue it.
Please. God. Help. Me.
Josh is only capable of talking about wakeboarding or football, and I don’t care about either. I’m about to feign a bathroom break when my nose catches a whiff of a spicy, masculine scent, like nutmeg or star anise, mixed with something fresher like crisp, clean linens.
Tyler’s in the vicinity.
Liz mutters a curse when he shoulders her aside and edges next to me. I draw in a deeper breath, reveling in how good he smells. I don’t think he’s wearing cologne. Tyler doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d douse himself in a smelly spray. His scent’s probably just a mixture of soap and laundry detergent. It practically makes me swoon, though I’ll never tell him that.
He leans down next to my ear. “Still mad at me?”
“Yes.” Despite how good he smells, I’m still annoyed he kissed me after doing god-knows-what to two skanks.
“I tried to leave,” he whispers.
“Could have tried harder.”
His knuckles skim my spine and stop just above my tailbone. “Never underestimate the power of your rack, cupcake.”
I flush as much from his touch as his words. Liz narrows her eyes at us. I’m sure she knows what’s going on. Hannah’s eyes widen. She has no clue, but I have a feeling she’s putting two and two together. Josh obliviously drones on, talking loud enough to cover up my conversation with Tyler.
“Why do you call me cupcake?” I ask.
His hands slide to my hips, and my breath catches. He pulls me against him, my rear pressed into his crotch. It’s a tiny movement, and the room’s dim enough that nobody seems to notice. His body is hard where I’m soft, and I clench my hands to keep from touching him.
His hand twists in my hair, and he gently tugs my head back until his lips are almost touching my ear. His hot breath shudders against my skin. “Because you’ve got chocolate hair and chocolate eyes and a creamy middle I want to delve my tongue into.”
My breath catches in my throat, making a kind of shrieking noise. Every eye turns to me. Tyler releases my hair as I slap my hand over my mouth.
Through my fingers, I say, “Sorry! Just a beer burp. Go on, Josh.”
Josh smirks and continues with his story.
I’m such an idiot. I’d thought he’d say something cute like, “Because you’re so sweet.” When he turned a Hostess snack cake dirty, I couldn’t stop the shock.
I lean back and turn my head so he can hear me whisper, “Move on, Tyler. You’re making me nervous.”
He pats my bottom like I’ve seen him do to countless girls, and the gesture reminds me I’m one of a hundred. “Text me when you need me.”
He saunters off, and I can’t help but watch him go. His jeans make his ass look delectable enough for an underwear shoot, and his black T-shirt fits snug across his wide shoulders, giving him the perfect T physique. My mouth dries as I imagine dragging my nails down his spine while he lands hard kisses on my neck.
Liz elbows me in the ribs. “Close your mouth, you whore.”
I snap my mouth shut and hope no one noticed my leering. Hannah grabs my hand, startling me.
“Gotta go to the bathroom,” she says cheerily, but worry darkens her blue eyes.
Josh is still talking, and he raises a disapproving eyebrow at her. She shrugs and hands her beer to Dylan.
“Girls go in packs. Yada, yada, yada.” With that, she tugs me forward, and we hurry down the hall. She shoves me through the bathroom door and closes it behind us. She turns on me, eyes narrowed. “What is going on with you and Tyler?”
“Um… nothing,” I say, sitting on the lip of the tub and setting my beer next to me. I feel guilty the instant I deflect her question. Hannah and I tell each other everything, but I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed in me for having a fuck buddy, and there’re few things worse than a friend’s disapproval.
“That was not nothing.” She paces, which looks ridiculous since she can only go three feet before the wall forces her to turn and pace the other way. “Are you and him… fu-hug buddies?”
“Uh… no.” Technically we’re not since we haven’t had sex. “At least… not yet.”
She faces me, looking awfully severe for a girl in kitten heels and pearls. “You’re thinking about it?”
I nod slowly, as if answering her question in slow-mo will somehow make it less real.
“I’m going to kill Liz!” Hannah cries, throwing her hands in the air. “That list we made was supposed to be for fun! She talked you into doing it, didn’t she?”
I nibble on my bottom lip, worried for Liz’s wellbeing if Hannah gets ahold of her. “I made the decision, not Liz. Don’t go all ninja on her.”
She leans down and grabs both my shoulders. “Have you already had sex with him?” With each word, she shakes me hard.
“No.” I blink rapidly, feeling a little sick from all the jiggling.
“Good.” She releases my shoulders and smooths the fabric of my shirt, probably trying to remove the wrinkles she put there. “Then it’s not too late for you to back out.”
“I’m not backing out.” I won’t risk ending up in a disastrous relationship that finishes off my grades when I can keep myself satisfied with Tyler.
<
br /> “Cassie, you’re making a deal with the devil. Tyler is grade-A asshole. He’ll hurt you.”
“He can’t hurt me if I go into it knowing it’s just sex.” I mean yes, there’s always the chance I could fall for him, but that’s what the rules are for and why I picked a guy who’s not my type. “It’ll be fine.”
She sits next to me, her shoulders sag, and her perky chest caves in. “Why are you giving up on relationships? Look at me and Dylan. Things don’t always go bad.”
“You have the only nice guy on campus. I’m happy for you. You deserve him. But I can’t live waiting for a Dylan to happen by, because he won’t. Even if he did, I won’t risk falling in love again.” I draw in a deep breath. “If I never fall in love again, I’ll never get hurt again.”
She plays with her pearls, staring toward the door. “This is what you want?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I still don’t approve.”
“Hannah, I love you, and I know you’re saying this because you love me too, but I have to live my own life. This is what I need. Being with another guy might even help me get over Wyatt.”
She rests her head on my shoulder, still fiddling with her necklace. “I want to castrate Wyatt for hurting you so much.”
I pat her knee, very aware I seem to be comforting her when I’m the one in need of reassurance. “Sometimes I do too.”
“If a hug buddy is really what you want, I’ll support you, but I think you’re heading for disaster.”
“What could go wrong? Tyler and I get to enjoy each other without the constraints of a relationship. It’s perfect.”
She sighs, lifting her head off my shoulder. “It’s not perfect. Sex is complicated.”
“Everything will be fine. I promise.” I sound so sure, I almost believe myself. Before Hannah can launch another attack against Tyler, I stand, grab her hand, and pull her up. “Come on. We need to save Liz and Dylan from Josh.”
An hour later, I’m sitting on the fireplace ledge with Liz, finishing off my second beer. I’ve got a nice buzz and my cell in my hand. The combination pushes me to make my move with Tyler. I punch in a text. Leaving in 30. You’re welcome to join me. I’m just about to hit send when I see him heading down the hall toward his bedroom with a blonde, her index fingers hitched into the belt loops of his jeans.
A flare of jealousy rises inside me, surprising in its intensity. I’m not jealous he’s about to bed another girl. I’m jealous she’s getting what I want—Tyler in her panties. Fueled by my buzz, I hit send. I know it’s immature, but I want to see if he’ll choose me over her.
Tyler stops and pulls his cell from his pocket. He turns toward the girl, probably so she can’t read the text. I hold my breath, waiting to see what he’ll do. He looks over the blonde’s head at me, and one side of his mouth slides up in a cocky grin. I know it’s petty—we haven’t even had sex yet—but if he does choose her, this is the last time my name will light up his phone.
I hold his gaze, waiting for his decision. His attention drops to his phone, and his fingers glide over the keypad. A second later, my phone lights up. I’ll be at your place in 45.
It’s my turn for a cocky grin, and when I peer up, he’s backing the girl out of the hall, toward the kitchen. She doesn’t appear happy. He glances at me, sees my smile, and punches something else in his phone. My cell lights up. This won’t happen again.
My grin falters. So much for being a priority. But if I were a priority, I might read too much into it. I have to give him shit anyway. Asshole, I text.
Always and forever, he texts back.
Chapter 13
Twenty minutes later, I excuse myself from the party so I have time to freshen up. While walking home, I text Tyler. Back door will be open.
I head to the bathroom and brush my teeth, then I check my legs for stubble. Sure enough, they’re prickly. I decide a quick shower’s in order and hop in to shave everything baby-bottom smooth. My nerves don’t kick in until I get out and actually consider what Tyler and I are about to do.
For me, sex has always been organic. Even when I lost my virginity, I hadn’t been nervous because the process had flowed naturally. Jeremy and I had kissed, then we touched. Touching led to shedding clothes. Shedding clothes led to more touching, and before I knew it, he was buried hilt-deep inside me. I’d been so turned on, my first time hardly hurt.
Every time after had been the same. I never expected sex. It just happened naturally. But nothing’s natural about tonight because the expectation is there. We’re going to have sex. I know it, Tyler knows it, and it’s turning my stomach into knots.
After combing the tangles from my damp hair, I stroll down the hall, wrapped in only a towel. I have no idea what I should wear. Pondering my options, I walk into my room.
“You look good wet, cupcake.”
I shriek, slapping my palm to my chest. My heart beats double-time beneath my surging breastbone. Tyler’s reclined on my bed, hands clasped behind his head and long legs crossed at the ankles. With dark hair hanging shaggy across his forehead, hard biceps framing his face, and sparkling blue eyes, he looks like a god in repose. An Adonis to be more specific. My gaze slides down the length of him, and the knots in my stomach turn into bands of steel.
His mouth curves up in an amused smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I suck in a deep breath, willing my heart to calm as I walk to my closet. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“Hard to stay away when I knew what was waiting for me.”
I keep my back to him because his comment makes my cheeks flush, evidence of the very little flirting I’ve done in my life. “Did anyone see you?” I try to keep my words steady.
“Nope. Came in through the back door. No one’s the wiser.”
“Good.” I hate the tremor in my voice. He acts so cool and composed while my insides are battening down the hatches against a category-five hurricane. Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea. I toss that thought aside as quickly as it enters my brain. This is the hottest idea I’ve had in ages, and it’s what I need.
I open my closet, which is an accordion style, so there’s no escaping him to change. Considering what we’re about to do, I should just throw the towel aside and climb into bed naked, but that’s too vixenish and totally not me. If I’m going to survive unscathed, I need foreplay and lots of it, the kind where he takes his time undressing me. I’m not even sure going slow will ease my nerves.
The first time will be the hardest. I grab a blue silk robe my sister gave me for Christmas and slip my arms inside. As soon as I’m covered, I let the towel fall. When the terry cloth puddles at my feet, I swear I hear Tyler hiss. I peer over my shoulder at him.
His gaze is locked on the towel, and his hands are fisting the comforter, turning white at the knuckles. “Don’t bother with underwear.”
So much for slowly undressing me, but I do as he says. He has more experience with these kinds of illicit liaisons, and only having a thin layer of silk between him and my most private parts might be the turn-on that revs my engines and makes the knots in my stomach loosen.
He sits up, resting his back against the headboard, and pats a spot next to him. “Come here.”
After I secure the sash around my waist, I saunter over. The mattress dips as I crawl next to him. He’s staring at my chest, but not in a horny, brain-dead kind of way. His brows are furrowed as though he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“You’re either turned on or scared shitless,” he whispers, staring at my breasts.
I peer down, and I’m startled by the heavy rise and fall of my chest. My rapid breathing reminds me of Princess Catherine on her wedding day, when her chest had been heaving from nerves.
He takes my hand and draws me close until I’m nestled in the crook of his arm. “Which is it?” He brushes his lips across my knuckles.
“Scared shitless,” I answer breathily.
“We don’t have to do this, cupcake.”
&n
bsp; “I want to.”
I’m being somewhat truthful. Only about ninety percent of my brain is calling me an idiot for sleeping with Tyler Mason, playboy extraordinaire. The other ten percent’s obsessing over the Magnum XL in his pants. He threads his long fingers through mine, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by how graceful they are. He has artist’s fingers, the kind that should play the piano or draw angels on ceilings of cathedrals.
“We could just talk,” he says.
“That breaks rule number five.”
“There doesn’t have to be any rules.”
Oh yes, there does. Over the last week, I’ve found myself thinking about Tyler more than I should, and we haven’t even had sex yet. If I let him into my personal life by telling him about my family, friends, or dreams, it’ll only get worse, and I can’t risk that.
As if reading my mind, he says, “I know how to be an asshole when I need to be.”
Therein lies the secret to keeping my feelings separate from Tyler. All I have to do is count on him to piss me off, which is one-hundred percent guaranteed.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask.
He smiles. “Who’d you lose your virginity to?”
I chuckle. Leave it to him to point all conversations toward sex. “That’s a personal question.”
He shrugs. “Just curious.”
I’m actually pleased with the question. Of all the topics he could choose, this one’s safe. We’re about to have sex, so why not talk about it beforehand? “Jeremy Park. Senior year of high school.”
“Did you love him?”
“Completely and totally. We’d been together since second semester, sophomore year.”
Tyler flinches, his big body jerking beneath mine. “He waited that long?”
“He loved me too.” At least I thought he did. A month before school was out senior year, he had sex with Lori Plum. After that, I wasn’t sure what had been real in our relationship and what hadn’t.
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