by Mona Kasten
“Hey!” I called out, throwing on my jacket. By the time I’d turned to follow him, Spencer had already descended one flight of stairs.
“Give Watson back!”
He stopped on the landing and looked up at me. “Watson? Like John Watson and Sherlock Holmes?”
Nodding, I headed down the stairs while wrapping my scarf around my neck. Spencer tilted his head and watched me descend each step.
“If you only knew how much I’d like to ask you out. Right here, right now.”
I sighed. For the past six months, he’d been asking me out on a date almost daily—and my answer was always no.
I didn’t date. I didn’t want to.
“Spare yourself the rejection. You know my answer,” I said, stopping one step above him. Now we were at eye level.
All I could see was blue. Blue eyes. So playful and yet so earnest.
“But you’re coming with me anyway, right?”
“Are you giving me a choice?”
He turned and sprang down the rest of the stairs, with Watson held hostage under his arm.
That was his answer.
Chapter 2
Spencer drove a rusty red Volvo hatchback whose color matched my hair. As he navigated traffic, he drummed on the steering wheel to the radio. We chatted about this and that. College, movies we’d seen, the upcoming dorm party we didn’t want to go to. He was so easy to talk to.
Spencer always had something to report. He was majoring in Creative Industries and had already changed his minor twice, because he couldn’t commit and was interested in everything. This semester he was focusing on Sexuality, Gender, and Queer Studies, something I’d considered as a major. In the end I’d picked English with a focus on creative writing—my favorite subject.
As we talked, my anxiety about going home with him faded. He was a good friend, and as long as he didn’t make suggestive comments, I could handle it.
His place was on the outskirts of town, but still somehow fairly close to downtown—like most of Woodshill.
Spencer pulled up to the curb and stopped the car. I stepped out and took in my surroundings. This area was even nicer than where Allie and Kaden lived. Neatly built brick houses surrounded by green lawns and manicured front gardens lined the street.
“Holy cow,” I mumbled and looked up at Spencer; he was already walking away from the car. Following close behind him, I stared at the trees and flowerbeds, where the first bulbs were beginning to poke through the earth, despite the chilly weather.
Spencer headed straight for the narrow, hedge-lined path that led to a dark green front door with frosted glass. His shoulders seemed to tense up as he slipped the key into the lock, and braced himself against the door. It popped open and he stood aside, waving me in.
“I’m not going to find anybody naked in here, am I?” I asked, crossing the threshold with an uncertain step. Spencer hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten out of the car. He was quiet. Too quiet. He wasn’t messing around any more. The only thing that still seemed like normal Spencer was that he was still holding Watson in a headlock.
“No, I live by myself,” he said with a slightly cryptic smile. “And I only run around naked when the mood strikes me.” He raised his eyebrows, and I cracked a smile. Now that sounded like Spencer. He took my jacket and hung it in the closet before leading me down the hall to the living room.
Wow.
Gray walls, hardwood floors, and dark furniture with light accents filled the room. A huge L-shaped couch with patterned cushions divided the living room from the open dining area, which contained a large, rough-hewn wooden table with six chairs. I turned the corner and spied the kitchen. A groan escaped me.
“How could you?” I spun around.
He paused in the dining room, hands buried in his pockets.
I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “You know how much I love cooking! How could you have kept this from me?”
The new, built-in kitchen was the dream of any hobby chef—and the exact opposite of the dorm kitchen. A gas stove stood on the right side. On the polished countertop was a knife block that looked brand new. Above it hung a magnetic rail to which a metal spatula and other cooking utensils were stuck.
“May I ask you something, Spence?”
He lifted his eyebrows in assent.
“How come I’ve never been here? I mean, sometimes we all squeeze into Scott’s tiny apartment for a weekend, but this place is huge!” I swept my arm around. What an understatement! I could fit three of my dorm rooms in the living room alone.
He sighed. “The house belongs to my parents.”
That didn’t explain much.
“And?”
He chewed on his lower lip. “They’re kind of well-off. A student living in a place like this might come off as an ass.”
“You think we’d judge you because your parents have money?” I questioned him, incredulously.
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Whatever. I still want to go out for a run. There’s juice in the fridge, and I’ll get you some water from downstairs,” he said quickly. “I think I might even have some Reese’s. They’re your favorite, right?” He crossed the kitchen and opened a cabinet, searching the shelves with a frown.
“Spence, it’s really okay.”
“Next time I’ll be prepared.” He shut the cabinet door and rubbed the back of his head. “Watson is on the coffee table. I thought the couch might be more comfortable than a dining room chair. Make yourself at home.”
He seemed restless, looking everywhere except at me. Then he turned and rushed out of the kitchen. His footsteps pounded down the stairs, and a door slammed shut. Stunned, I stared at the spot where he’d just been standing.
I snapped out of it when he reappeared wearing his running things. He acted like I wasn’t even there. After putting a bottle of water on the coffee table for me, he headed out, pushing in a pair of earbuds.
Only after the front door clicked shut did I dare to breathe again.
Apparently I’d crossed a line. I, who always insisted on sticking to the rules. I, who hated it when people dug into my past, had crossed a line with one of my best friends.
Dammit.
It took a while for me to get used to the soft pillows and the new setting. My thoughts kept going back to Spencer, but I tried to focus on my work again. I needed to write a few more words in order to meet my monthly goal. After waking Watson out of hibernation and putting my headphones back over my ears, I got back to work.
Jasper kept his hand on the back of my neck; his eyes were fixed on my face as he slowly pulled out of me and thrust back in. His hot breath hit my cheek, and I gasped as he ran his tongue along my throat. I pushed toward him, and he let loose a growl.
Pressed against the wall, I gasped, arching my back. Jasper drove me crazy. With every thrust he conquered me again, lifting me to a higher plane, from which I could no longer see the abyss.
Leaning back on the couch, I regarded my efforts. Almost done. A new story, almost ready for publication.
I was beyond thrilled to be able to make a living with my favorite hobby. Some students had to work for a pittance in factories, and others became waiters or tutors, like Allie.
But I wrote erotic stories.
That probably wasn’t the first thing anyone would think of when they saw me. I’m kind of petite, with big, round eyes, so most people see me as an innocent little Bambi. Not someone who enjoys dreaming up kinky sex scenes all day long.
Writing has always been my favorite pastime. Even in high school, my fantasies ran wild across the pages of my notebooks. It started out as a hobby. Then came the boom in erotic literature, thank you Fifty Shades. I took part in an anonymous writing competition for erotic short stories. Even though I didn’t win, I landed on the short list to be evaluated by the community of writers. The f
eedback was overwhelming. I’d never shown my work to anyone before, but doing it anonymously on the Internet was easier, because I didn’t feel the pressure of being judged. After lots of people urged me to keep writing, I started on my next short story, which was twice as long as the first. The readers in the forum were totally into it and started to send photos and casting suggestions for a potential film based on the story.
And that was the beginning of my addiction: I spent my afternoons on my dad’s computer and wrote well into the night. Dad supported my hobby and even brought me food and drink if he saw me glued to the screen for hours on end. It was probably good that I never let him know my genre. After all, what father would want his daughter writing stories called Hot for You, whose plotlines were 90 percent sex?
I was known as D. Lily—my middle name. But no one here knew my secret. Not even Allie. And as far as I was concerned, it should stay secret for the time being. I loved my friends and felt like I belonged here, really fit in, in Woodshill. No way did I want that to change. What if they found out and looked at me differently? What if they thought I was weird? Made fun of me, like Nate had?
If they knew, I wouldn’t enjoy writing anymore. Now, it was still magical. I could concentrate fully on my characters. On their personalities. On their vices.
Like right now. My fingers flew over the keyboard.
Until Spencer plopped onto the sofa next to me.
I yelped and startled backward so violently that my headphones slipped off my ears.
“What the hell?”
“Sorry, I thought you heard me,” Spencer said, rubbing his face.
Holy shit.
His shirt was stuck to his chest, revealing the muscles underneath. Quickly I looked up at his face, but that, too, turned out to be a mistake. With one motion, he swept his damp hair from his forehead. His cheeks were flushed, his face was covered with a thin layer of sweat and his chest was rising and falling faster than usual.
I kind of wanted to be turned off by this sweat-drenched fellow, but some synapses in my brain were obviously not working right. Not after spending the last few hours writing about naked, writhing bodies.
“Did you… already finish your run?” I asked weakly.
“It was great. Damn cold, but still really nice.” He leaned forward, grinning, and reached for the water he’d given me. “Didn’t you drink anything?”
I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. “I lost track of time.”
“I’m going to take a shower. If you want to join me, I can show you how much prettier the bathroom is compared to the kitchen.”
I lightly punched his upper arm. “No, thanks.”
Spencer stood. His grin was so sexy that it should have been illegal. “Some day you’ll voluntarily accompany me to this bathroom, sweetheart. You know it, I know it, and the world has been aware of that since the beginning of time.”
For a second I was speechless.
Then I mustered up all my strength and looked back at my computer screen. “If you say so.”
That’s how it was between Spencer and me. Every friendship needed some way to blow off steam and get back to normal. His comments were part of it. My dismissive replies were also part of it. So I was glad when flirtatious Spencer took a backseat and my good friend returned.
Flirty Spencer often annoyed me, but he was preferable to the reserved Spencer, who wore an artificial smile, avoided questions, and simply disappeared.
Chapter 3
Two days had passed since the penis incident, and I hadn’t heard from Allie at all—except for a WhatsApp chat with a little monkey covering its eyes with both hands, and three winking smiley faces.
The very idea of looking her in the eye and apologizing for having stared at her boyfriend’s junk made me burn with shame. But I couldn’t put it off forever.
At the first tentative knock on our door, my roommate, Sawyer, tied the laces on her Doc Martens and hoisted her backpack. With her long, blonde hair and the patchwork of tattoos on her arms, she looked dangerous. And hot as hell. It was no wonder she had such a busy schedule.
“I’m off,” she murmured in parting.
Sawyer usually took off whenever Allie dropped by to see me. They hadn’t gotten off to a good start, partly because Sawyer had been seeing Kaden when Allie rented the spare room in his apartment. You could say it wasn’t the best way to begin a friendship. On the other hand, Sawyer and I weren’t close either. She was pretty unapproachable and difficult. If we hadn’t ended up sharing one of the tiniest dorm rooms, she would have probably never talked to me.
Allie smiled tentatively at Sawyer, but it was obviously forced. Sawyer returned the expression for a moment, then pushed past my best friend to leave the room.
Before Allie could say a word, I leapt up and wrapped her in a big hug, my face buried in her sweater. That wasn’t hard to do, since she was about the size of a Victoria’s Secret model.
“I didn’t want to look. I swear, Allie. But he was naked,” I blurted out. “It was just right there, waving in the wind.”
She returned my hug. “I know. Kaden says you looked like a frightened chicken.” She laughed.
I broke away from her. “And he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. A deer with a hard-on.”
She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Then she peeled off her coat and set it down on the old dresser next to my desk.
I pointed to the chair that was waiting for her and shoved some chocolates and a bowl of chips in her direction.
“I think Kaden was just as scared as you. Let’s forget it. And I’ll turn up the volume on my phone,” Allie offered.
I nodded vigorously. “Yes, please. That sounds great.”
“Then we can meet at my place next time, and Sawyer wouldn’t feel like she has to run away from me.”
“You could just bury the hatchet and start over,” I suggested.
“I don’t think she’d go for that.”
“Oh, Allie.” I shook my head. “You don’t really have anything against Sawyer, do you?”
She screwed up her nose. “Not really, except for the fact that she was constantly throwing you out of your dorm room and sleeping with the guy I wanted.”
“To be fair, if I had a boyfriend I’d probably throw her out, too,” I said with a shrug. “She knew Kaden before you. After you moved in there, it was over.”
Allie groaned, still not convinced.
“We’re not in high school anymore,” I announced. “Next time you see each other, you’re going to make some small talk or something. I’m going to lay down the law.”
“Oh, really?” Allie smiled skeptically.
“Yes, really,” I changed the subject. “What are you and Kaden up to tonight?”
Allie smiled dreamily. She was so in love, it was almost sickening. But since I adored the two of them so much, I could only be happy for her.
“We have a date tonight. Dinner and a movie, and I get to pick the film.”
“Which isn’t remarkably generous of Kaden, considering you have the same taste in movies,” I ventured. “If I were you, I’d also make him let you pick the music for the drive.”
“I like you. I think I’ll keep you.”
I grinned. “Thanks, ditto.”
Allie shifted into a cross-legged position in her chair.
“Anyway, what else is new with you?” I asked carefully and imitated her pose.
“I talked to my parents yesterday. It was kind of… weird.”
Allie’s parents had a screw loose. Knowing what they’d done to her, I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy.
“Did they turn mean again? Should I sic someone on them?” I asked, pushing the bowl of chips back her way.
“It was just weird, Dawn. They were actually… I wouldn’t call it friendly, but somehow more open
than usual,” she answered with a frown. “It was nice for a change, not to get slammed with insults and accusations. Dad even asked about my classes, and Mom only snorted seven times.”
“Wow. If that’s not progress I don’t know what is.”
“Yeah, right?” She bent forward and grabbed a handful of chips. Sea salt and vinegar, my favorite. She sniffed at them, and her face beamed with joy.
Watching Allie eat was the best. She got so excited about the strangest things, you might have thought she came from another planet. Her parents had deprived her of so much. But she was making up for it now, by trying anything and everything she could get her hands on. It was adorable.
“Now that we’ve talked about my parents, let’s talk about your favorite topic, please,” she said through a mouthful of chips, a meaningful expression on her face.
Even though she wasn’t exactly spelling things out, I immediately knew what—or who—she meant.
Nathaniel Duffy.
“I’d rather not.”
“Dawn—”
I sighed. “Okay. I’m glad he doesn’t have my new number.”
“You’re avoiding my question.”
Ugh. I really didn’t want to talk about Nate.
“As your best friend I am responsible for bringing up sensitive topics. Talking is important,” Allie scolded me as she munched away.
“Fine,” I sighed, slowly rubbing at the throbbing that began to grow in my temples. “He didn’t try to reach me again. I mean, I had to change my number to stop his calls in the first place, but everything has been great since then.”
“Why do you think he was trying so hard to reach you?” she asked.
I shrugged. “No idea. To be honest, I don’t care. We haven’t talked since Thanksgiving, and I hope it stays that way.”
Before moving to Woodshill, I’d spent my days under a dark cloud, mourning my lost future. Everything Nate and I had planned that would never happen.
Six. Damn. Years.
Wasted.
Sure, at 13 you shouldn’t expect to meet the love of your life, but with Nate and me… it was different. Special. Like what you read about in romance novels.
