Matched

by Angela Graham

“Shit!”

  My eyes fly back to them again, and I catch Emma giggling. A small area above Court’s waist is growing bright red, and…are those bite marks?

  “Oops,” Emma squeaks, then nosedives back in.

  “Bite me all you want, darlin’,” Court taunts her. “Worth it to hear that laugh.”

  His words only piss her off more from the looks of it, but that’s a good thing. Her anger drives her faster, and Court’s already stepping out of his second pair of shorts.

  I can’t see Cruz, but I hear him getting bitched out. Nadia’s ranting about him wearing button-fly cargos instead of a zippered pair.

  “Harlow, concentrate!” Peyton scolds me, and before I can blush I’m slobbering all over his shorts. I’ve officially hit the lowest level of degradation.

  I get his zipper down easily enough, but there’s still one button above it and it’s not as easy to get undone with your mouth as you might think. I’m maneuvering my head every which way, but unable to open even his first pair of shorts.

  “Pull over with your teeth and push the button through with your tongue,” Peyton instructs, so I try that. It doesn’t work, and I bite my tongue in the process. And if that’s an erection forming, we’re about to have serious problems. I will contract Emma to bite things off for me too!

  I try a couple more times, fumbling again before finally getting a good-enough grasp to pop the button through. I’m moving to stand without a real plan in mind, and he just can’t help himself. His hands fly to my shoulders to drag me up, and a whistle blows.

  “Harlow and Peyton, disqualified!”

  “Damn it.” He kicks up sand. “Sorry.”

  “Eh, don’t worry about it,” I say with the lack of disappointment I feel, sitting back down to watch the madness.

  Oakley’s chest is bare, and Rachel’s face is buried in his crotch. I can’t watch; I look away instantly. My eyes fall on Cruz laughing, Nadia still fighting those same buttons. I look to Court and Emma, syncing like one dancer—his turn to her bend, his lean to her pull. He lies flat on his back and pushes his pelvis into the air. She may be angry with him, but she’s obviously determined to win this.

  “There ya go—slide ’em right off, darlin’,” he coaches her, cleverly wriggling backward the whole time. The opposite motion works brilliantly—and they win!

  Court jumps up, scoops her into a cradle, and spins wildly in circles the millisecond the air horn blows.

  “Thank you, thank you!” he chants as she succeeds in keeping a rein on even a hint of cheer. “Come on, Emma.” Court sets her on her feet. “How about just a smile? Not for me, but because you kicked ass.”

  I wait for her reaction and laugh when she turns to Cruz and shouts, “I kick ass! Whoo!” She’s grinning in delight at everyone, even me, before she swings her face back to Court. Her expression is wiped clean, indifference returning.

  Damn, she’s good. Poor guy…Emma’s torture will last a lot longer than that BJ did, mark my words.

  I glance at Cruz, who’s watching them too, looking smug. And as though he feels my stare, his eyes find mine. I’m not sure what I do with my expression, but he blinks and looks away.

  All the guys get dressed. This consists mostly of just pulling on shorts, but a few put on shirts as Tom pipes up, “Congrats to Court and Emma, $5,000 richer! If either of you two would like a room change, say the wor—”

  “I do!” Emma shouts before Tom’s mouth has even closed. “Can I just take an empty spot, or do I have to switch with someone?”

  “Either. One move, any way you like,” Tom answers her.

  You can see her mapping out the rooms in her head, but her face drops abruptly. “Actually, I think I’ll stay where I’m at.”

  What? Is she crazy? Stay with Jensen when she could…okay, so my room’s full, and Rachel and Nadia are a no. But she could’ve roomed with Oakley and Callie. Why wouldn’t she go there?

  “How about you, Court?” Tom asks.

  “I’ll take the empty bed in Saturn,” he replies quickly, a shit-eating grin on his face. I’ve never really understood the phrase—why would you possibly grin if you just ate shit?—but a phrase it is, and it’s definitely fitting.

  Court’s choice puts him in with Peyton, Jensen, and…Emma. Clever boy.

  “Wait,” Emma interrupts, her face now pale. “I, um…changed my mind. I want to move into Uranus.”

  “Sorry,” Tom begins.

  “Fine, then, Jupiter,” she throws out desperately.

  Really? She’d rather room with the sluts than Court? I get it, sort of, and I feel for her—especially when Tom explains her turn is over and she can’t change her mind.

  Court gives her a sidelong smile, either unashamed or undeterred. I can’t tell which.

  Oakley’s shoulders are shaking with his silent chuckle; he’s obviously taking pleasure in what he assumes will be Cruz’s unraveling. He’s really hung up on that, which fortifies my decision. He’s not the guy I thought he was.

  “Okaaay,” Tom drawls curiously. “Can you explain to us why you didn’t go with one of the two empty spots in Uranus, Court?”

  Another missed wordplay opportunity for Wyatt. Shame.

  Court looks to me and clears his throat. “No harm meant, Harlow, but we all know Oakley’s got a match here who isn’t you. Thinkin’ of the game…leavin’ him alone in a room with one girl might help us all figure out more.” He tries to smooth it over once more with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  I focus on the sand. I know he’s right, and playing the game…just like I plan to do. I have no say over Oakley anymore, but if I did, I wouldn’t mind him being alone with Callie.

  “Good strategy,” Tom replies, cutting through the awkward silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, this game is getting very interesting. Cruz, how do you feel about your sister’s new roommate?”

  Yes, pour the gasoline directly on the flame. Great plan. Why didn’t I think of that, Tom?

  “If I have anything to say on the matter, I’ll discuss it with Emma—privately,” Cruz counters, holding impressively firm on his and Emma’s dignity.

  “Fair enough,” Tom says, overdoing his cover of failed onscreen antagonism. “Everyone grab some lunch, and enjoy the rest of your day. We meet back here tomorrow for an elimination challenge.”

  Confessional: Cruz McCall

  “No way it’s my turn for this bullshit again, but it’s easier to just do it than dodge all the reminders.

  “Lemme see…so my baby sister’s now gonna room with three assholes instead of two, which was already pushing it. I calmed down after making sure they all knew I’d kick their asses and haul hers out of here, so I’ll tolerate it for now. I’m really trying to give Em some breathing room, and I got this weird hunch she’s gonna be just fine in there. This place is crawling with eyes everywhere, and I’m a pretty good people reader.

  “I am glad she finally won a challenge. Would’ve prefer it not be one that named her champ at undressing men with her mouth, though. God, this place is gonna kill me. Never mind—at least she didn’t win some crazy shit like skydiving or jumping in volcanoes as the prize. She’d do it, too. She’s fearless…drives me insane.

  “So, uh, yeah, that’s about all I got. Oh, I know you’re all chomping at the bit for me to talk about the Harlow and Ball Sack deal, but I’m not gonna do it. None of my damn business, and…nah, and nothing. Just not gonna do it.”

  Chapter 17

  “Damn it!”

  I wake to his roar, followed by heavy feet smacking against the floor. One sleepy eye cracks open just in time to see Cruz tug a shirt over his head in haste and rush out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

  “What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular. My head’s sunk into my pillow, and I’m too tired to move and check if my other roommates are still in their beds.

  “You know the rules,” I hear Adam explaining in a dark, impatient tone to someone in the hall.

  “From what
I’ve overheard so far,” Miles adds from his bed under me, “Emma didn’t sleep in her room last night, and Adam’s not too pleased about it.”

  “Where’d she sleep?” I ask, lifting my head slowly. I’m awake now—and concerned.

  “One of the free beds in Callie and Oakley’s room,” Jasmine chimes in, standing up to stretch. “And no, Adam’s not happy about it. But she’s refusing to sleep in Saturn, so they’ve kind of reached an impasse.”

  “There’s plenty of beds elsewhere, Adam!” we hear Cruz yell. “Stop being a dick and let her pick a new room, or we’re gone!”

  “If I change the rules for her, I’ll have to change them for everyone, and then what’s the point of having them?” Adam growls, matching Cruz’s severity.

  “I don’t fucking care about the rules—which people break all the time around here, by the way! She never should’ve been put in with Jensen to begin with!”

  “Don’t start on that again, Cruz. We’ve been over it—I had nothing to do with assigning rooms. And if you doubt for one second that I’ve had her under constant surveillance, you can go fuck yourself.”

  Adam’s growl is positively barbaric, and my hand flies to my mouth as my gaze whips to Jasmine’s.

  “Am I the only one getting turned on right now?” she remarks under her breath.

  I bite my lip to stifle the bubbling laughter. Unsuccessful, I burst out laughing. “Seriously?” Thank God our door’s closed and they can’t hear us—at least, I hope not.

  “What?” She shrugs innocently. “Two gorgeous guys not afraid to back down? You know it’s hot!”

  “Maybe,” I mumble, but I’m flat-out lying. The force behind Cruz’s tone is doing things to me I can’t explain.

  “Yup,” Miles chuckles, climbing out of bed and crossing the room to the closet. “About to get interesting.”

  There’s an ominous pause before Adam speaks again. “Emma, you either sleep in Saturn or you forfeit the game. Sorry, sweetheart, but that’s final.”

  Cruz comes back with, “You’re being an ass, Adam, and you know it.”

  “No, I’m doing my job. You can either show some respect for that, or I’ll book your flights home myself. Either way, you will watch your mouth.”

  “I’ll what?”

  I shiver. Cruz’s malice truly scares me.

  “It’s fine,” we finally hear Emma cut in. And just in time, too; a mediator is clearly needed.

  “Emma, you don’t have to sleep in there,” Cruz says in a quieter, less-intimidating tone. “Jensen’s a perv, Court’s a dumbass, and Peyton won’t do jack about shit. You don’t need to be dealing with that, and Adam knows it.”

  “No, he’s right. I’m being silly,” Emma replies with newfound resolution. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time, Adam. You know how I can get. I’ve already been rooming with Jensen and Peyton this whole time, anyway. I can deal.”

  Did anyone else hear what she didn’t say? This is not about Jensen, as shocking as that may be. This is about Court.

  “Don’t worry about it. I want you happy, but there are just some rules I can’t bend,” Adam says kindly.

  “I know, and I respect that about you.” This time she’s laughing. There’s another long pause, so Jasmine cracks the door open and I jump down to get a closer look. Why? I don’t know. Okay, that’s not true—I know exactly why. This show has turned me into the nosiest person alive. I thought I had a pretty decent handle on the goings-on, but what we discover is far from what I was expecting.

  Emma is hugging Adam—you know, the guy we’re not even supposed to talk to, since no one breaks rules. When she pulls back, she’s smiling. “Love you.”

  Say what?

  “You too, Em,” Adam says, as if it’s the most natural thing to ever leave his mouth.

  “Do you?” Cruz’s defenses still up. “Not acting like it by throwing her to the wolves.”

  Adam moves right in Cruz’s face. “Watch it!”

  “Back. The. Fuck. Up.” Cruz says in a hauntingly calm voice, and Adam’s return warning is unspoken as he steps even closer.

  “Stop this, both of you!” Emma shouts, pushing herself between them.

  Suddenly, Miles is tugging us back and flinging the door wide open.

  “Morning!” he greets them by surprise.

  Adam pivots and paints on a smile that chills me to the bone. His eyes roam to Jasmine and help themselves to a long, deliberate perusal of her body, which is still clothed in a white silk nighty. His widened smile’s real when he’s finally finished. “Morning,” he says more to her than anyone else, then turns back to Cruz before she can reply.

  “You want to discuss this further? Find me later. But you know where I stand, and that won’t change,” Adam tells him before walking away.

  “Right,” Cruz mutters, his expression inflexible.

  “Come on, let’s go eat.” Emma grabs his arm, but he doesn’t budge for her. He takes his time, looking from her to me before reaching a decision.

  “I need a shower,” he mumbles before stomping away.

  “Is there a reason we’re eating breakfast outside?” Jasmine asks us as she takes a seat on one of the loungers, a plate of food in her lap.

  “I’m out here because Oakley’s inside giving me his best silent treatment,” I answer, glancing back through the glass doors to spot him at the kitchen table. His body tenses visibly; he feels my gaze, but chooses to simply glare harder at his plate. “He won’t even look at me, but he hangs on every nasally word Rachel or Nadia sputters. No thanks. I’d rather not have to see that and puke up my breakfast.”

  “And I’m out here because she is,” Emma adds, picking at her oatmeal.

  “So it has nothing to do with Court sitting in there, eye-fucking you right now?” Jasmine taunts with a giggle.

  “His eyes can do whatever they want, but he knows he lost his shot.”

  “He regrets it,” I speak up.

  “So he says,” Emma fires off. “Doesn’t matter—let’s drop it. I’m just trying to eat with my girls.”

  “Gotcha. So where’s Callie?” Jasmine looks toward the house to see if our fourth is making a plate or on her way to us.

  Emma swallows her bite and answers. “Doubt she’s coming. She was up pretty late last night.” Her words taper off as her eyes drop to her lap.

  I’d never had thought a thing about it had she acted normally. But now my hackles are raised ever so slightly. “Up late doing what?” I strive to question rationally.

  “No, no.” She reaches over and pats my knee. “Ignore me. I’m being weird, sorry. She and Oakley just stayed up late talking. They’re a couple of chatterboxes. And Harlow,” she says, her voice and eyes both gravely sincere, “she is your friend, first and foremost. I swear.”

  Oakley and Callie? Friends, sure—and I’m glad he has someone in the house to talk to. But never once has Callie shown interest there. And if she did? My heart…well, that one needs some time to decide.

  “I believe you—love Callie to death—but thanks for saying it.”

  “So why’s Oakley up?” Jasmine wonders aloud.

  “That one I know. Oakley never sleeps for more than about four hours.” True, but the talking all night is the part I’m unfamiliar with. Probably would’ve done us a lot of good.

  “Ladies.”

  Court struts our way dressed in only board shorts, oozing southern charm. Even his canter screams “sexy gentleman.”

  “And you.” He squats down in front of Emma, holding out a tall flute of what looks like orange juice. “I made you a virgin mimosa, darlin’. Used Pellegrino. Start your day off with a tingle.”

  Yes’m, he sure did. I mean, I’m tingling.

  Emma rolls her eyes and shifts in the opposite direction of him, but nevertheless sticks her hand out slowly to snare the drink. “Thanks.”

  He’s grinning when he pops back up. “My pleasure.”

  I expect him to try to stay—maybe sit and join us—but h
e plays it smart, giving her just enough space as he makes his way to the pool. He peers back, smiling at Emma and tossing her a wink before diving in the water.

  Jensen isn’t far behind him. He stops at Jasmine’s lounger, leans down, and presses a disgustingly sweet peck to her shoulder before jumping in the pool as well.

  I’m not tingling.

  “You think there’s anywhere else to hang out around here?” Jasmine asks, setting her plate aside. “I’m full.”

  “Look at us, allowing men who don’t even deserve our time to intrude on it!” Emma’s face brightens, her eyes widening. “Eat up, Harlow. I’ve got a plan.” She snickers, shoveling down her food at risk-of-choking speed. I shudder at the unpleasant memory it stirs up.

  Jasmine’s subtle glance tells me she’s a bit worried, albeit curious. This can’t be good.

  “Hey Court,” Emma calls. He’s on it immediately, out of the pool and heading back our way lickety-split. His wet, rippled chest glistens in the morning light, and that’s exactly where Emma’s eyes have honed in on.

  “Yeah, darlin’?” he asks, standing in front of her now.

  She’s still entranced, and it takes a not-even-in-the-family-of-subtle elbow jab from Jasmine to break the spell.

  “I need a teeny-tiny favor,” Emma says when she comes to, her eyes flying up to a more appropriate zone as she holds her thumb and index finger slightly apart. “If you’re up for it.”

  Oh, now he gets her smile and fluttering eyelashes. She’s good.

  But it doesn’t matter. Whatever she asks, his answer will be a resounding yes. I’d bet anything on it.

  “What’s that?” His timbre is a knee-knocking bass, his grin lazy and seductive. “Can’t think of much I wouldn’t do to keep that look on your face.”

  Jasmine and I should probably get up, look away, or talk amongst ourselves—anything other than hang on their every word with rapt attention. But damn if he doesn’t do sexy all kinds of favors, so we keep right on gawking shamelessly.

  Whatever she’s gonna ask is a doozy, because she crooks her finger for him to lean down, letting their foreheads and noses almost touch. Her dress absorbs the droplets of water from his body, and you can practically see his heartbeat start to race. I may fan myself.