The most obvious thing to do in this situation is haul my happy ass to the campus health clinic, but just the thought of it makes me groan. I hate doctors — of all kinds. Dentists, nurses, vag docs — all of them. I hate the way it smells in a doctor’s office, the way you have to weigh in every time, how long you have to sit before the grumpy old man waddles in to shove a thermometer in your throat and judge you for the amount of wax in your ears just to tell you you’re fine and buy some over-the-counter meds. It’s all an inconvenient circus and I’m over it before I even think of making the call for an appointment.
Throwing on a hoodie even though I know it’s far from cold in the house, I pad down the hallway to Erin and Ashlei’s room and let myself in without knocking. Erin is seated at her desk, head down, scribbling in her planner. Four highlighters are set up to the left of her hand and I sink into her sheets as she color codes her life.
“Don’t bring your virus in here, J-Love,” she barks without even looking up.
“Oh, shut it. I’m fine. What are you doing tonight?”
She sighs, shutting her planner and popping the caps back on her highlighters. “Landon is supposed to take me to dinner.”
“Well don’t seem so excited.”
“I was hoping to go through my closet and make the agenda for the council meeting this Wednesday.”
I eye her as I reach across her bed and rummage through her snack drawer. “You’re kind of weird, Ex. Anyone ever tell you that?”
She shrugs. “I just like to throw myself into things I can control, that’s all.”
“Well, maybe you need to loosen up a little. You’ve been wound too tight since the semester started. I think this new position is putting a lot of pressure on you. Plus you had that stomach flu.”
She blinks, crossing to her closet and flitting through the side with all her dresses. “Yeah. You’re right. It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”
I shake my head, unrolling a bag of veggie chips and popping one into my mouth. Just chewing is so much effort and my appetite is nonexistent, so I huff and roll the bag back up, tossing it in her drawer again.
“Is it my turn to lecture you?” I know she’s trying to joke about me being sick, but her eyes are so tired, so sad. There’s something going on with her that she’s not telling us.
“Erin, are you okay? Seriously. I know you had that pregnancy scare, and I’m sure even though the test was negative, it was probably pretty awful taking it on your own.”
“I’m fine,” she clips, stripping down to her underwear just to throw on a tight, lavender, knee-length dress. Ashlei flies through the door just as Erin bends to pull out her tall nude heels.
“Lei! What are you doing tonight? Hang out with me,” I whine. That’s one of my best qualities when I’m sick. I turn into the whiniest, neediest bitch ever. The problem is that what I want most right now is to either A, get drunk, or B, call Jarrett. And neither of those would be smart. Getting drunk would probably make me even sicker than I already am, and there’s no way I could hook up with Jarrett with my snotty face and germy mouth, so what else could we really do? Nothing that would keep us in the safely non-defined zone we’re in right now, that much I know.
“Uh, Bo and I are actually heading out to see the new Nicholas Sparks movie.”
I groan. “Booooo. I don’t want to go out. Can’t we stay in? Sneak a bottle of wine and watch one of the other cry-inducing movies he has out already?” I don’t even care that I just invited myself to crash their night. If she’s lying to me about what her and Bo’s relationship is, she should at least have to work to preserve that lie.
“We kind of already bought the tickets, J-Love.” Ashlei frowns, tying her long blond hair up in a high pony. “I’m sorry. You can come, though. If you want. But I totally understand if you’re not up for it.”
As much as I want to crash what I’m positive is a date and make them sweat, I don’t have the energy to. They’ll both live to lie another day.
“Ugh. Where is Skyler? And Cassie?”
“Skyler’s playing at a tournament downtown,” Erin says, checking her makeup in the mirror.
Ashlei nods. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure Cassie said she’s hanging out with Grayson. They were going to check out some art festival that’s in town.”
I groan louder, exaggerating the noise, being as annoying as humanly possible. “Why is everyone happily living their lives tonight?”
Ashlei chuckles. “Just go to the doctor, Jess. Stop fighting it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh huh,” she says, shaking her head.
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a cold.”
“Whatever you say. Don’t spread your germs to my side of the room.”
“Oh don’t worry, she’s too busy rolling them around all over my pillow,” Erin adds as she opens their bedroom door. “Make sure you Lysol before you leave.” I toss a throw pillow at both of them just as they squeeze through the opening, laughing.
When they’re gone and I’m alone, I sigh loudly, glancing at my phone and groaning again at the two missed texts from Jarrett. I’ve been avoiding him, which probably isn’t a smart move, considering how that worked out for me last time. Although, I really wouldn’t mind being fucked in a dark closet right about now. But ever since I saw him with that girl at Pie Heaven, I haven’t answered his texts. Which is stupid. And petty.
Mrs. Stupid and Petty herself, ladies and gentlemen.
Huffing, I heave myself off Erin’s bed and mope down the hallway to my own, burying myself in the covers. I tuck my phone under my pillow and will myself not to look at it again. Calling Jarrett and asking him to hang out with me while I’m sick would be crossing the line into boyfriend territory, and that’s the last thing I want — the last thing he wants, obviously. We both understand what we are and what we are not, even if I am butt-hurt over him going to lunch with another girl, and sick cuddle buddies definitely falls on the what-we-are-not-list.
But the more time that passes, the more I want to text him — see him, be around him. The scary thing is that I don’t even want to hook up, not really — not specifically, anyway. It would be a nice added feature to the package but really, I just want his company. I want to make him laugh, I want to hear him talk about his day, I want to put my feet in his lap and watch a movie. And the more that realization sets in, the harder it is to keep myself from picking up the phone — from giving into a feeling I haven’t had in over a year.
I thought I could handle not putting a title on what we are, just doing what we want and going from there. But the truth of the matter is that I don’t hook up with other people and when I’m not with him, he’s all I think about. Toss in the fact that I get insanely jealous when I see him with any other woman, coworker or not, and the recipe for disaster thickens. I don’t know who I thought I was fooling.
What have I gotten myself into?
“WHAT’S UP, BABY BROTHER?”
“About time you answered your phone!” Clayton says as I toss my gym bag into the corner of my room. I’m taken aback by the deepness of his voice. He just turned thirteen, and already I can tell he’s about to hit the glorious days of puberty. “I have a serious question.”
“Uh oh. Do I need to sit down?” I joke, kicking off my basketball shoes. I push the speaker-phone option on my phone and set it on the bathroom counter as I start the shower.
“Mac and I are stuck on this mission in Grand Theft Auto and can’t figure it out. We’ve been here for hours, bro.”
I laugh. “I can’t believe I was playing basketball and missed your calls during this tragic time.”
“I know. What a shitty big brother you are.”
“Hey!” I scold as I peel my still-wet t-shirt over my head. “Since when do you curse?”
“It’s not a big deal. Mac says shit all the time.”
I frown. “You’ve been over at Mac’s a lot lately.”
There’s a pause on Clayton’s end and I still, wonderi
ng if there’s something he’s not telling me. “Sorry. I’ll cool it on the cursing, Mom.”
I laugh, asking him for more details on the mission he’s on and walking him through it while the bathroom steams up. We chat for a while, mostly about school, not even a little bit about mom or Carlton. It feels good to catch up with Clayton and I can’t help but feel like I should do it more often. Just because I’m not in the same state doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be there for him. I’m the closest thing he has to someone to look up to in his life.
That fact hits me hard. I haven’t heard from mom or Carlton since I gave them enough money to get them out of whatever trouble they were in last semester, which gives me hope, at least, that they’re doing okay. Still, just because I haven’t heard from them doesn’t mean I shouldn’t pick up my phone and call Clayton more often.
“Hey,” I say just as we’re about to hang up. “Why don’t you come down for family weekend? I’ll book the flight. We can hit the beach and go go-karting.”
“Really?” Clayton asks, excited.
“Yeah, really. I’ll even let you get your ass kicked in Halo if you’re lucky.”
“Hey, what happened to no cursing?”
“I’m twenty-one. I’m allowed to curse.”
He chuckles. “I really would like to. I feel like there’s a lot we never get to talk about with all the distance, you know?”
I run my hand through my fade, catching my own eyes in the mirror. “Yeah I know. It’ll be fun. I’ll text you later with the flight details. If mom is upset or has questions, just have her call me,” I add, jaw tensing at the mention of her.
“I doubt she will, but yeah, I’ll tell her. Love you, big bro.”
“You too.”
We end the call and I thumb through my music, pressing play on a J Cole song and setting it to shuffle through my playlist. I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles from playing hard at the courts. My knees are tight, arms sore, and I’m ready to collapse in bed and watch ESPN. But as I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist, I see a completely different option presented.
“Your clothes smell, dude.” Shawna says, her small frame leaning against the bathroom counter. “Like, bad.”
“Hi to you, too.”
“Hi,” she says, kissing me swiftly before propping her ass on the bathroom counter, shamelessly watching me dry off. “There’s an art festival in town. You should take me.”
I chuckle. “You have absolutely zero fucks to give about the normal way people do things, huh?”
“Normal is boring.”
“What do I get out of this deal?”
“My company, of course. Plus we can knock out that extra credit assignment for our art class. It’s a win-win.”
I brace my hands on either side of her legs on the counter, boxing her in, watching as her eyes follow the beads of water gliding down my chest. “Hmm… so what you’re saying is you want me to do homework with you. Sounds like a favor of sorts.”
She grins. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do you want in exchange, Bear?”
“Come to Key West.”
“No.”
I laugh. “You’re so exhausting. Just come with me. I want to bang you in at least four places on Duval Street.”
“So romantic.”
“It’s your kind of romantic and you know it.”
“Touché.”
“So you’ll come?” I ask, hopeful.
Shawna leans forward, her bright green eyes playful behind her black frames. “Nah.”
I drop my forehead to hers. “You’re impossible, woman.” She just giggles, but the sound is cut short when I press my hips forward, meeting hers. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. She’s in a simple, strapless black dress, and with only my towel and her panties separating us, it suddenly feels a lot hotter in the bathroom.
“Well, if your persuasion tactics weren’t so awful, maybe I wouldn’t be so impossible.” She bites her lip, rolling her hips just enough to stir up the friction between us.
“You’re saying I’m not bringing enough to the table?” I ask, sucking her bottom lip between my teeth and reaching my hands into her jet black hair. When I reach the purple ends, I grip harder, tugging with just enough force to expose her neck to me. She gasps, arching her back.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she breathes.
My hands still in her hair, I kiss across the swell of her breasts. “Well, let me sweeten the deal, then.”
In one fluid motion, I drop my towel to the floor, push her panties to the side, and slide inside her, pulling her hair harder as she cries out. She’s so wet, so ready, and I pull out before rocking back into her again, slowly this time, letting her feel every inch.
“Oh fuck,” she breathes, letting her legs fall open wider as she takes me in. My hands snake up her thighs, bunching her dress just above her hips as I flex mine again. I grow harder with each thrust, hitting her deeper every time, and she rewards me with nails digging just as deep in my back.
I work her slow at first, watching her mouth hang slightly open, her eyes focused on where we meet. It’s so hot that she loves to watch, and when she lifts her legs to rest on my shoulders, I find a new depth that makes us both moan. I know she loves when I work her clit, but this time I want her orgasm to come from the spot only I can reach inside.
Grabbing her ass in my hands, I lift her, just slightly, just enough to push deeper. Her head falls back, hair sticking to her back, and I take advantage of the access to her breasts. Using my teeth, I pull the top of her dress down and say a silent prayer that she’s not wearing a bra. Sucking her nipple ring between my teeth, I pump harder, the steam circling around us, our breaths shallow.
Suddenly, Shawna bucks against me, pressing her hands into my chest until I stumble back a bit. She hops off the counter, spins around, and bends at the waist, pressing her chest to the cool counter, hooded eyes finding mine in the mirror. I take my cue, stroking myself as my free hand finds her center. Slipping two fingers inside, she moans, and the sound jolts straight through me as I place myself at her entrance. When I rock into her, my hands gripping her waist, she gasps.
I start slow again, savoring the feel of her warmth around me, but before long she’s demanding harder, faster, more — and I deliver on all accounts. She comes first, her breath clouding the mirror, her eyes wide open and staring at me. It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen to watch her fall apart so unabashedly. I follow right after, cursing under my breath at the electric release only she can bring.
For a moment I stay inside her, resting my chest against her back, my arms around her, our breaths leveling out. When I finally pull out, Shawna stands, shimmying her dress down and adjusting the top in the mirror.
Moving her hair off her neck, I press my lips to her salty skin. “So, Key West?”
She grins. “Valiant effort, but it’s still a no.” She spins in my arms, kissing me once before smacking my ass playfully. “Now get dressed and take me to this art festival.”
I laugh, because what else is there to do? Shawna is unlike any other girl I’ve ever known, and even though she drives me mad, I wouldn’t have her any other way.
Well, let me rephrase that: I wouldn’t have her any other way characteristically.
There are countless ways I’d have her. Take her. Own her.
And we’re just getting started.
IT’S EIGHT O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY MORNING, and I have yet to sleep. The downtown casino has had back to back tournaments, and I’m raking up enough to pay off the rest of spring semester and hopefully to pay my entry fee for a larger tournament this summer. I’m on the leaderboard right now, but an opponent delivered a nice little blow to my mental stability this morning in the form of a printed out blog article.
Skyler Thorne: Poker’s Hottest New Player
At first, it sounded flattering — and, some of it is — but most of it details my physical f
eatures, complete with a center photo of me in the small red bikini I was wearing on the beach with Jess and Cassie. Of the entire article, only one tiny paragraph mentions my skills at the table.
Entering the code for the Omega Chi house into the keypad, I let myself through the front door and make my way back to Clinton’s bedroom.
“I brought bagels,” I say, louder than I expected, as I kick his door closed behind me. “Coffee, too.”
Clinton peeks at me through his heavy eyelids before reaching for his phone, noting the time. When he sees the look on my face, I sigh, setting the bag of bagels and coffee on his bedside table and retrieving the article from my pocket. I unfold it and drop it on his chest.
Squinting, he reads the headline, but his eyes widen at the slew of photos. I don’t even think he reads more than the first paragraph. Sighing, he crumples it, tosses it across his room, and scoots over, lifting the covers. “Come here.”
I crawl in, snuggling close to him as he tucks the covers around us. “They’re such assholes.”
“I know,” he says, his voice groggy as he kisses my forehead. “Did you talk to President Whittington about the paparazzi on campus yet?”
“Yeah, but so far everything they’ve taken of me has been off campus, technically. He assured me that if they tried anything on school grounds, he would step in and take legal action against them. But off campus, I need to watch out for myself.”
“I swear, if it ever happens when I’m around I’ll pummel their asses.”
I smile, resting my head on his chest. “Tell me about your life so I can stop thinking about mine for a while.”
Clinton blows out a breath, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my shoulder. “Well, I’ve been steadily banging someone since my birthday.”
Palm South University: Season 2, Episode 3 (Palm South University #2) Page 2
