Crushed (The Rushed New Adult and College Romance Series Book 2)

by Gina Robinson

  "Yeah." She paused again. "You're sure about this?"

  "Sobriety buddies till the end, Morgs." I cleared my throat. "Which reminds me—how would you like to ref our beer pong tourney Friday night?"

  "What?"

  "I'm asking as a sobriety buddy favor. You already have the outfit and the whistle. Your dad's invited to the tourney, too."

  "He and Grandma aren't coming until Saturday morning and are leaving right after dinner Saturday night."

  "Excellent. Then you aren't busy Friday night."

  "I didn't say I wasn't busy. What gives you that idea? Maybe I have a hot date."

  My heart lurched at the thought of her out with someone else. "Hot date, with a guy and his dad?"

  "Not everyone's dads are here. Besides, how do you know? Maybe I like older men."

  "You mean you're looking for a father figure? Dad's Weekend is a great time for you, then." I was getting grumpy. If she was toying with me on purpose and trying to make me jealous, she was doing a damn fine job of it.

  "Actually, I like guys my age."

  The way she emphasized "my" gave me hope. We were almost exactly the same age.

  "I'm pulling your chain. No date for me. Tell me why I would give up a quiet evening at home to be sober among a bunch of drunk guys hitting on me?"

  "Because you can't resist the opportunity to reprise our excellent ref act. We'll be a team again. I'll wear my costume if you wear yours."

  "You want me to wear that skimpy costume around your dad? He'll think I'm a slut."

  "Aren't you?" I couldn't help teasing her.

  "Shut up! You're not helping your case. Do you want my help or not?"

  "Dad loves eye candy. He'll be impressed by what a hot friend I have." I didn't give her a chance to refuse me again. "The tourney starts at nine. Want us to pick you up? Dad still has his license."

  "Now there's an enticement." She laughed. "See you at nine."

  My heart raced and I smiled like an idiot. I was getting in too deep.

  Chapter Ten

  Morgan

  Late Friday afternoon, the steady stream of incoming dads began. The house quickly filled with the deep tenor of middle-aged male voices. I liked Dad's Weekend, and picking out which dad went with what daughter was a game I liked to play with myself. Sometimes it was surprising. My dad, for example, looked more like my grandpa than my dad. Think how old he'd look for my soon-to-be-born baby sister's Dad's Weekend. If he was even still alive. The thought depressed me. I pushed it away.

  The thought of meeting Dakota's dad sent a shiver of nervous anticipation over me. What was Dakota setting me up for?

  I walked past the bathroom, where Seth and Dillon were fixing a toilet that wouldn't stop running.

  "Zach will be back on Sunday afternoon, man. Can't wait to see him," Dillion said to Seth.

  Seth was installing a new toilet chain. "Yeah, you and me both."

  I ducked my head and hurried past, hoping they wouldn't see me. Sober, and out of party mode, I was nervous about him coming back. Guilty. Hanging with Dakota, and fighting the budding feelings that I tried to deny, but were growing for him, made me realize more than ever that I'd had blinders on regarding Zach. I'd been mistaken—he wasn't the guy for me. I genuinely was out of crush with him. I'd made him into a fantasy man. But the reality didn't match the easy way I got along with Dakota.

  It still astounded me that he and I had gone from enemies, to frenemies, to friends. And maybe more.

  The way I'd flirted with Zach for two years embarrassed me now. In hindsight, I'd seemed so desperate. Which was the way it went when crushes died. You could suddenly clearly see what everyone else had always known.

  I was relieved my dad was only coming for the day on Saturday. And nervous about how he would react to Dakota. Hoping he would give Dakota a break and see past that one bad incident. Eager to see my grandma and determine for myself how she was doing. I lived in dread of getting a call that she was in the hospital again.

  Just before eight thirty, I was dressed as a ref and ready and way too eager for Dakota and his dad to pick me up. I walked by Alexis' room. Her door was open.

  Remembering my promise to be a better big, I popped my head in. "Your dad's not here?"

  She was lounging on her bed. She looked up from a book she was reading. "He called this morning. Some emergency. He can't make it."

  I tried to gauge her reaction to his last-minute cancellation. Was she disappointed? Upset? I stepped into the room. "That sucks."

  She shrugged. "He has to cancel his plans a lot. I'm used to it. Actually making it here was always a long shot. He's not much into football or Dad's Weekend things. I think it was a convenient excuse. Anyway, it takes the pressure off me. Dad still hasn't fully come to terms with me dating a houseboy." She grimaced so slightly I almost missed it.

  "Former houseboy." I smiled at her and tried to sound jokey and sympathetic. "Thanks to me."

  She looked at me, surprised by my attitude.

  "You should thank me for saving him the embarrassment and getting Zach back into your social class." I tried to make myself clear by my tone that I wasn't being serious or arrogant. I was trying to let her know, in my own way, I was sorry.

  I twisted my hands in my lap. "When Zach comes back, he'll be a Geed with his own place in one of the ritziest, priciest new complexes in town. That's status. That's a boyfriend your parents can brag about right there."

  Her surprised look turned into a hint of admiration as she studied me and smiled. "That's one way to look at it."

  "That's me, always pointing out the sunshine."

  "Where's your dad?" Her gaze traveled down me. "And why are you wearing your Halloween costume?"

  "Dad and Grandma aren't coming until tomorrow morning. Grandma can't take more than a day on campus. She's been sick. Heart trouble." I bit my lip and inhaled deeply. Why was I sharing this with Alexis?

  "I'm sorry." Her eyes were soft with sympathy.

  People liked Alexis. She had a way of engaging and caring about people that used to rub me wrong because I didn't like her. I appreciated her concern now.

  I shrugged. "One day will be tiring enough for her. I hope she's up to it." I put on a happy face. "Since I have nothing else to do tonight, I'm refereeing the Tau Psi beer pong tourney. With Dakota." I indicated my costume. "Hence the referee's uniform. Double bang for my Halloween buck."

  I had to force myself not to smile at the thought of Dakota. I was being stupid. Why hadn't I noticed how great he was in the first place, freshman year? Why had I ever wasted time on Zach?

  Maybe it was hormones. My period still hadn't started. Maybe Dakota's baby was growing inside me and predisposing me to like him for its own nefarious purposes. Like it wanted a daddy. Maybe I was just stupid.

  "Dakota?" Alexis frowned.

  I took a seat in her desk chair opposite her and shrugged. I decided to level with her. "Why not? We're helping each other stay out of trouble." I paused, trying to be a considerate people person, like she was. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up."

  She shrugged. "Why? There's no bad blood between us. We're friends."

  Which was true and totally confusing. She and I were getting along, actually bonding. If ever there was a moment…

  I seized my opportunity to do a little digging. "Yeah, and no one understands that. What's going on with you two? You should help us all out and give a workshop on how to become best friends with your ex. I mean, given the way things ended between you, you can understand everyone's confusion."

  Her smile was devilish, but it lit up her face, highlighting how pretty she was. "It's simple, really—Zach is important to both of us. Dakota is smart enough to realize he and I don't belong together and Zach and I do. He wants the best for us." She paused and her voice became soft. "He's a great guy."

  Oh, I knew that. Now.

  "Still confusing," I said. "Are you guys really aliens?"

  She laughed.

 
"What time will Zach be here on Sunday?" I asked.

  "Late Sunday afternoon. After most of the dads have left town. He's leaving Seattle around ten or eleven." She looked wistful.

  "You can't wait, can you?"

  She grinned. "That obvious?"

  "I'm over him." I spoke without thinking. "I want you to know that. I owe him my life. I'd like to be his friend. And yours. I won't try to come between you again. I mean it."

  My phone buzzed. I had a text from Dakota telling me he and his dad had arrived to pick me up. My heart suddenly pounded and I got a ridiculous smile on my face. I simply could not hide it. "Gotta go. Dakota's here to pick me up." I stood.

  "Have fun."

  I walked to the door.

  "Morgan?"

  I turned over my shoulder to look at her. "Yeah?"

  She was studying me with an uncertain look on her face. Like she had something she wanted to say, but wasn't sure she should. "Be careful around Dakota. I mean this in the kindest way possible. No ulterior motives. You're my big. I want us to be friends." She fiddled with the pages of the book next to her. "Don't lose your heart to Dakota. Not that I'm saying you are. Just guard it, okay? He's not what he seems."

  She looked so genuinely concerned, I almost laughed. "Not what he seems?" I said. "Don't tell me he's gay." I knew for sure he wasn't. "And you were his fake cover girlfriend."

  It might have been my imagination, but I thought she paled slightly. She shook her head. "Absolutely not. Go. Have fun."

  With her puzzling warning ringing in my ears, I slid my coat on and bounded down the stairs to meet Dakota and his dad.

  They waited for me in the entry, bundled in jackets that emphasized their broad shoulders and masculinity. Dakota had grown a stubble of a beard since I'd seen him. He was like that. He could grow a sexy shadow overnight. Seeing him, my heart did a happy little flip. I willed my stomach to keep calm and hoped the periodic waves of nausea would stay at bay.

  His dad was clean-shaven, but I was immediately struck by the resemblance between father and son. Same height. Same broad shoulders and build, his dad's tarnished by middle age. Same sandy blond hair. His dad's highlighted by shades of gray. Same intelligent, snapping blue eyes. His father's were undimmed, as youthful as Dakota's, and leveled on me.

  I swallowed hard. Buck up, I told myself. How bad can his dad be? I can stand up to his scrutiny.

  But I felt suddenly shy. And like I should have worn something more conservative. Then again, Dakota and I were just friends. That was the way Dakota and I both wanted it. That was the lie I told myself. I didn't have to try to appear like girlfriend material to Mr. Bradley. I could be party girl, fun friend of his son's, without worry.

  "There she is!" Dakota's face lit up.

  Which lit up mine. He was killing me. I ran to him and hugged him.

  He slung his arm around me. "Dad, this is Morgan. The girl I've been telling you about."

  Telling him about. The words echoed in my mind like they meant something more. Silly.

  With as bright a smile on my face as I could manage, I offered my hand to Mr. Bradley.

  "Morgan, nice to meet you. You can call me Al." His voice was a deeper, more mature version of Dakota's. He held my hand in his and squeezed it. "Nice to meet anyone who can keep my boy on the straight and narrow. How do you manage?"

  "We're keeping each other out of trouble." I turned to Dakota. "What have you told him about me?"

  "That he nearly killed you," Mr. Bradley said. "I can't tell you how glad I am that my son didn't remove such a gorgeous girl from this world." His voice was deep with flattery.

  Dakota took my arm. "Stop flirting with Morgan, Dad." Dakota was smiling and sounded like he was teasing, but there was an edge to it. "Remember, I have Mom on speed dial."

  A little father/son competition?

  His father laughed. "Around such beauty, how can I help myself?"

  Dakota rolled his eyes and took my hand. "Let's go." He walked me to his dad's BMW.

  Dad's Weekend was like the Cinderella story in reverse. On Dad's Weekend, a great many dads reverted to the partying frat boys they used to be. Sunday at noon, they would return to their respectable middle-aged selves. But on Friday night, they were eager to win at beer pong and flirt with their sons' dates.

  At the frat, I felt suddenly shy when Dak asked if he could take my coat. I was more than a good-time party girl. I wanted him to see that. As irrational as it was, I wanted to make a good impression on his dad, too. But there was nothing I could do now but roll with my role.

  I knew most of the guys in his house. As we walked to the game room, we were stopped and introduced to too many dads to keep track of. I got the up-and-downs and the leers from way too many fathers, the sweet old lechers. Like I said, they were young studs again. In their own minds.

  Dak led us to the game room and blew his whistle to quiet the competitors who had gathered and already tapped a keg. "The refs have arrived! I'm Dakota and this is Morgan."

  Whistles. Catcalls. Hoots. Typical frat boy behavior. I winked at one of the dads. Hey, I knew the role I was supposed to play.

  Dakota blew his whistle again. "Settle down. The official rules have been laminated and are posted around the room. Before we begin, I'll hit the highlights of the house rules.

  "It should go without saying—all elbows and wrists must be kept behind the table at all times or the shot doesn't count. Every team can ask for the cups to be re-racked twice per game at the start of their turn.

  "Finally, you've all heard the saying, Guys finger, bitches blow. Neither fingering nor blowing count, gentlemen." He glanced pointedly around the room. "I don't see any ladies to warn."

  I elbowed him. "Hey!"

  "What?" He grinned. "You're not playing. One last rule. No flirting with the refs and trying to get favors."

  "Who the hell would want to flirt with you?" Dakota's big yelled out to him.

  The crowd laughed.

  "Shut up, Brady." Dakota glanced at me. "I have my admirers." He took a deep breath. "We've randomly assigned the schedule." He called two teams to the table. "Let the drinking—I mean, the tournament—begin."

  Dakota had paired his dad with the best beer pong player in the frat. It had been fortunate the beer pong champ's dad hadn't been able to make it.

  I did my job, flirting, enforcing the rules. Blowing my whistle and smiling coyly while reprimanding. "Elbows over the table. Shot doesn't count!" Laughing while the offenders pleaded for a review.

  Dak stepped in. "The ref's decision is final. Keep protesting and I'll have to eject you from the tournament. And the house."

  "You can't do that!"

  "I'm house pres." Dak slapped the guy on the back. "I can do anything."

  I suffered endless innuendos. A few butt pinches. And more than a few lewd stares. Dakota kept popping up, joking, relieving the pressure. Watching out for me. Flirting. I caught him staring at me.

  "I want a re-rack" was a frequent request.

  I would lean over the table so my cleavage was in full view, and re-rack while they stared at mine. Again and again throughout the night.

  The guys and dads got drunker and drunker. Louder. Ruder. Dakota's dad and his partner Brett lost the tournament championship in overtime around midnight.

  The winning dad grabbed me. "Time to thank the refs." Instead of shaking my hand, he planted one on me. A big, sloppy, wet one.

  Dakota intervened, pulling him off me. "That's enough thanks for one night."

  "Killjoy," the dad said as Dakota hovered over me like my big, bad protector.

  It was kind of sweet of Dakota, actually.

  "I'll drive you home," Al said to me after he was presented with his second-place prize—an oversized Tau Psi beer mug. "Or are you spending the night?" He shot Dakota a meaningful look.

  "I'll walk her home, Dad." Dakota took my arm and got my coat.

  He took my hand as he opened the door for me. His dad was watching. I caught
him smile. It was almost as if Dakota was making some kind of statement. The thought made me way too happy.

  Outside, the air was crisp and brisk.

  "Don't ever ask my to do something like that again," I said to Dak.

  "Why? You were good at it. The guys loved you."

  I rolled my eyes. "I'm going to have to brush my teeth half a dozen times to get the taste of that dad out of my mouth."

  He stopped and stared at me, his eyes hard. "He used tongue?" Then his face lit up. He looked like he was about to laugh.

  I gave him a playful shove. "Yeah, white knight. I nearly gagged. You could have intervened earlier and it wouldn't have hurt my feelings." I took a deep breath. "Do boys ever grow up?"

  "Never," he said.

  "I can just see you at forty-five sticking your tongue down some young coed's throat. Thinking you're still a stud." I shivered. "Remember teasing me about looking for a father figure?" I shook my head. "Total turnoff."

  He squeezed my hand. "When I'm forty-five, your words will haunt me. I'll keep my tongue to myself."

  There was something simple and wonderful about holding hands in the dark, starry night. I was afraid to hope it meant something more than kindred spirit between referees. I mean, a guy and girl holding hands, that was a proclamation of togetherness, if only for the night. We laughed about the tournament as we walked to Delta Delta Psi.

  He paused at the front door while I fumbled for my key. I had this crazy first-date feeling. Fumbling for a key was a way to give a guy time to work up to a goodnight kiss. An age-old feminine trick.

  Dak had let go of my hand and stuffed his in his pockets. If I was throwing hints, he was letting them pass.

  Finally, I laughed at myself. "For some reason, it feels like this is the time I'm supposed to tell you what a great time I had tonight."

  "Did you?"

  Did he sound hopeful? He still wasn't angling for a kiss. He was taking this no-hookup thing way too seriously. Maybe there was hope for him. But I was beginning to think he'd turned into a eunuch. He'd been flirting with me all night. And playing protector of my virtue. And now nothing. Yep, eunuch behavior.