by Mari Arden
That's what the burning in my stomach gave me: a way to stay on top.
Ref blows his whistle and as if on cue, a girl steps up from the crowd. She has on shorts cut right below her crotch. Her hips sway suggestively as she comes closer and closer to Cade. All eyes follow her as she makes her way toward him. Whistles and catcalls come from the crowd and the heat grows hotter.
"Ready to test the bull?" he asks suggestively. It isn't an original line, but her flirty giggle shows she doesn't care.
There is silence as we wait. With a heave, Cade drops to the ground, sweat already rolling off his shaved head like wet fish slipping from wetter fingers. With a nod he signals for her to get on top. She does. She lifts a leg over him, straddling his back as if he's a horse. Her blonde hair is tied back in a tight bun, exposing her flushed face.
Cade takes a deep breath for several seconds. Slowly, his arms push his body from the ground. I see his muscles shaking, trembling violently. Her squeals are audible, probably feeling his muscles bunch between her thighs. Cade pushes all the way up, holding the position for a few seconds. Then he does it again. And again. And again. By the thirteenth one, he's clenching his teeth so hard he becomes red in the face. At the last second, he grunts before going down.
Cade and the girl on top of him exude sexuality. The picture of them together is a canvas of creams and tans. Nat's so close to me I feel her when she shivers, excited from the testosterone permeating the air.
The crowd explodes.
Nat fans herself.
When the blonde swings her leg over to get off, Cade gets up onto his knees, grinning with pride and a little too much arrogance. His white teeth stand out against his red, flushed face like a glow stick. Nat grabs my hands. "Hubba, hubba." She winks at me.
"A dollar for every push up," Ref explains, drawing the crowd's attention back to him. "That's thirteen bucks from each donor. We'll collect at the end," he informs us. The crowd's still going, shouting sexual innuendos until my ears turn pink. Ref tries to calm us down. "Settle down, you horny bastards. We still got one left."
As if on cue, it starts "Pax, Pax, Pax…"
In my haze, I realize whom they mean. UW quarterback. He's the first thing I heard about when I got on campus. Someone named a burger after him. I jab a finger into Nat's ribs to get her attention. Her eyes remain glued to Cade, but she tilts her head in acknowledgement.
"Which of them is Pax?" I ask curiously, gesturing to a few men who have stepped into the circle. Some of them have their backs to me.
"How do you not know?"
"How do you even know?" I quip back.
"Besides the fact that his face is everywhere? We're friends on Facebook."
"I didn't know you knew him." I shouldn't be surprised though. Nat's been out every night since moving in. She's what I imagine a social butterfly might act like.
Nat shrugs. "I don't know him know him. I just know him."
I pause, trying to absorb her gibberish through the thick fog covering my mind. "I'm not sure what that means, Nat."
"What I mean is that we've never actually met face to face so Pax doesn't technically know who I am-"
My eyebrows raise. "'Technically' know who you are?" I echo. "What happened to the good ole' days where people either know you or don't know you?" I wonder. I don't realize I've spoken out loud until Nat answers me.
"Gone like the wind, baby." She flashes a smile. "Anyway, I see tagged pictures of him and read his statuses so I'm pretty aware of what goes on in his life."
Nat notices my expression and manages to look a little sheepish. "I know, I know. I'm kind of a stalker. But everyone's doing it, trust me. By the way, we're not friends on Facebook. We should be, considering we live together and all."
"I don't have a Facebook," I confess. I almost got one once, but I realized there was no one I wanted to connect with. I didn't know anyone else other than the circle Grandma had built around me.
"You shittin' me?" I've never heard her swear so much. I look at her, suddenly realizing how little I know about her. "We need to get you set up with one," she tells me. "Then we're going to a party where you'll get to take a proper slutty picture and post it all over your page." She sounds serious so I don't laugh. There's a moment of silence until I nod.
"So which one is Pax?" I ask, breaking the quiet.
"Really dark hair. Green eyes. Killer smile. He's got a little dimple on his left cheek when he grins. He also has a small tattoo of two hands intertwined underneath his right chest. It's so sexy and romantic. I want to lick it."
I gasp.
"Did I just say that out loud? Too much information?"
I nod. "You weren't kidding. You kind of are a stalker."
"Eh." She goes on her tiptoes, scanning the men in the circle. "Look for the guy with a tattoo of two hands on his chest," she instructs.
I squint my eyes but it's hard to see in the darkness. Everyone looks like a pale shadow.
"There! That one!" She points excitedly. "I know that thick head of hair anywhere."
I blurt out, "Nat, it's crazy you can pick him out because of his hair, you do know that, right?"
"Not as crazy as you not having Facebook," she quips back without looking at me. "That guy is serious eye candy, Jules. That right there could get you out of your funk." Ref whistles.
I wince, and cover my head. The sound is like a foghorn in my ears. "I'm not in a funk," I deny.
"So you stay home every night because you want to?" I nod. She looks shocked. "All this time, I thought some guy broke your heart or something…"
I shake my head. I almost confess what I really think about men, but I hold that admission in. Maybe my filter's coming back.
"Lucky in the sack, Pax!"
"I'll give you the ride of your life!"
I wince because the last shout comes from directly behind me. Apparently Nat's not the only girl who's lost her beans for Pax. "Maybe the whole football team aren't actually players and are brothel workers for campus," I joke, as the amount of skin showing seems to double with each passing minute.
Nat laughs. "I wouldn't care. I'd gladly pay for that."
I follow her line of vision, and that's when I see him.
I gasp. "I know him. He saved me from a headline I don't want."
"Huh?"
"When I was sledding on the grass."
"Huh?"
Pax, I say the name in my mind, testing it out in my head. From this distance I can't see him as well, but I stared into his face earlier. Nat had said he had green eyes, but in the shadows of the night his eyes look dark. I know his mouth is full. I know his voice is cool and calm, and somehow I can picture him as a leader, leading the charge at every game. Even from where I'm standing, I see Pax's wide, broad shoulders. I know his body is tan from the summer sun because I was inches from it. He's moved into a sitting position on the ground, relaxed, but the contour of muscles bulging along his arms and shoulders are defined and distinct. I wonder if he'll feel like Braidon, cardboard and stiff. Or maybe he'd feel stronger. Like steel.
"Pax, Pax, Pax…"
"All right!" Cade calls to the crowd, trying to silence them. He's standing next to Ref. Both wave their hands for quiet, but it takes a full minute before it's possible for everyone to hear Cade. "Listen up. As you all know, this is a fundraiser. We promised you entertainment, so here's us trying to fill a little bit of time before the band gets here. They're running late, but we promise you they'll be here. We're going to be partying all night long and all proceeds go to Hearts of Love!"
The crowd cheers. Human whistles fill my ears until I hear nothing but the high-pitched calls. "This is a good night for us. A victory against South Carolina, and Pax is back in full. To prove that he's going to be taking volunteers. Any girls willing to ride?"
There are, of course. Pax grins and the smile makes his face almost boyish. Abruptly, I notice his dimple. Nat was right. Pax walks to the center of the circle, holding his hands together, prepar
ing to speak.
"Hearts of Love is all about second chances," Pax begins in the quiet. "It's about fixing mistakes, overcoming obstacles, and finding yourself in the end. Hearts of Love does everything- counseling, provides financial aid, housing- they make dreams come true for those that need it the most. They helped me through my surgery when I thought I'd never be the same again," he confesses in that same collected tone that helps to dissipate the fog in my head. "Sometimes this world is cruel," he continues. "Sometimes this world is full of death."
Red.
I blink and the color is gone.
"Sometimes this world is a shit fest that just doesn't end. And sometimes, there is hope. Sometimes your wasteland can grow again. Sometimes you can do more than just survive. You can love. You can live. You can be spontaneous." His eyes flicker over the crowd, slowly, purposefully. I watch his eyes, trying to imagine the green in them. I follow his gaze until…
…his eyes crash into mine.
His lips form a grin that I can't help but return. I smile sheepishly back, and wave meekly. His grin grows wider.
"That one."
CHAPTER 4
The smile is frozen on my face. Or maybe my face is frozen, and the smile can't break it. Pax winks, and that playful gesture does nothing to calm my jittery nerves that have suddenly started jumping up and down.
"I think he's pointing at you, Jules," Nat tells me in an excited voice. "Go!" I'm still in such a daze I let her push me out of the crowd, stumbling on my own feet.
"Wait," she shouts, grabbing me. Her fingers do something to my top. "You'll thank me later," she whispers fast. "Hold on tight!" With those parting words, she pushes harder, stepping back into an ever-growing crowd. I'm swaying slightly from the force of her shove. I don't know what she's done until I look down.
Then I'm mortified.
She's ripped open the top half of my shirt. The buttons are nowhere to be found and both sides are hanging loosely exposing my push up bra. My short jean shorts suddenly feel tighter as my whole body inflates, becoming embarrassed.
"Hello there."
I whip around. Pax is standing inches from me. A dimple appears on his cheek as he looks down.
"I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I'm Reid Paxton," he says. "But everyone calls me Pax." My brain cells scatter. Awareness is starting to settle in. "Are you okay with this?" he asks, as concern furrows his brows. "I know you said tonight was a night of spontaneity and I thought this might be something you could try." I stare at him dumbly, fighting the urge to clasp the front of my shirt together. I try to remember the lightness in my head. I try to forget the crowd. I nod.
"All right ladies and gentlemen! Our volunteer is here." Cade's voice saves me from Pax's gaze and my body's own inability to form words. He touches the small of my back, urging me closer to Pax. "All she has to do is put her legs around him…and ride," Cade shouts to the anticipatory crowd. There are a few snickers.
"Remember, this is for charity. Every push up he does with her on top is one dollar. Any takers?" His question is answered with shouts and grunts. At least I'm not the only one who can't speak around this man. Cade leaves us to write down names of people willing to "donate". There's a buzz in my ear, like my body is chasing the alcohol through my body. This isn't a good idea, I realize. This isn't like me. Yet my body is trembling. The side effects of a little too much to drink or is it something else?
"Do I make you nervous?" His husky drawl drips like chocolate covering a ripe, round strawberry. Does he make me nervous? Does a simmering volcano make an ant nervous? The thoughts whisper through me. It's a burst of sanity.
"Nervous? I'm not nervous," I babble, refusing to look at him. The buzzing gets louder making me more jittery and restless. What's that thing I do where I take in air, and then let it out? Oh yes, breathing. I need to do that.
I try to calm down. I try to feel balanced. That burn down my throat isn't balanced though. It's not steady. It's a fire. It's a roar. And my body no longer belongs to me alone. It belongs to that high; that peak that moments earlier I was basking in.
I make a strangled sound and inhale through my nostrils, taking in the smoky air like a ravenous puppy finding milk. Instantly, I feel Pax's heat next to me. Soon I'll be immersed in it, wrapped in it.
Wrapped around him.
So does that make me nervous? Only a hundred kinds of nervous.
"Time to begin!" Cade yells, as he jogs back to Pax and me, flashing his pearly whites. He pounds Pax on the back. "Don't drop the ball," he grins.
"As if I ever do."
Cade turns to me. I see the second he registers my cleavage is exposed to the world. His eyes appraise me slowly. He gives me an appreciative grin. "Well, hello there."
"Hi," I reply, unsteadily. "Um, should we start now?" I don't mean to be rude, but words are bursting out of me with abandon. Something else owns my thoughts now.
"You okay?" Pax asks me kindly. "You look a little green."
"I'm a second away from vomiting every cell inside me, and call me crazy, but I'd prefer not to start off my year known as the Vomiter." The words are candid. A part of me realizes I should've kept them inside.
Pax bites his lower lip. I'm not sure if he's concerned or if he's trying not to laugh.
"Let's start." He inserts himself between us, blocking Cade's view of me. His firm, half- naked body is next to my face. Pax's musky cologne combined with a sweaty scent unique to him suddenly assails my nostrils tipping my senses further.
Cade chuckles, looking amused. Abruptly, I want to glare at him. I don't find anything amusing about this. "Ready when you are."
Pax turns to me, his emerald eyes dark pools underneath the starlight. For an endless moment, I'm going up, up, up again. I'm not flying. I'm suspended in air. My pulse skitters. Something hard and hot unfurls in my belly. Unable to tear my gaze from him I watch helpless as his mouth drifts closer, until he's so close his breath mingles with mine.
"Ride me."
Ride him? My breath catches in my throat. The rush of blood and alcohol rushing through my system has hardened into a golf ball in my throat. His eyes continue to sparkle, and I'm right. It's a beacon, and it pulls the corners of my lips up.
Pax palms my waist, the barest whisper of a touch. His lips brush my ear. "Hold on tight," he advises in a low murmur. "It's going to be a bumpy ride."
I step back, watching him watch me. Suddenly, the situation I'm in is incredibly funny. What kind of a friend rips off buttons and tells her "you'll thank me later"? Who rides a half-naked man in the middle of the night? Who does it for money? I can't contain the sound gurgling in my throat. Maybe Pax knows what I'm thinking because his lips quiver, threatening to crack. A silent message passes between us, like are we seriously doing this? And are people actually paying to see it? Pax's wide shoulders move in a subtle shrug as if to say people pay to see worse.
Crazy. Illogical. Spontaneous.
A whistle blows, jerking us from our mental conversation. I don't feel as nervous now. I might have even given the thumbs up sign because the crowd roars, and Pax's shoulders are shaking from laughter. I feel better. Ref runs over.
"What's your name?" I ask him.
He points to his shirt. "Pretty self-explanatory. Everyone calls me Ref."
I make a sound, and tap my index finger to the side of my head. "I see."
My words must've sounded slurred because Ref asks, "Are you okay?"
"Yes." I look at Pax.
"Are you going to be able to ride?"
I almost laugh out loud. This isn't a motorcycle race, I want to say. I can't die from riding a man. Then I frown. I could have died rolling down a hill. I glance at Pax again. He cocks an eyebrow in my direction.
"It's just like practice, man," Ref tells Pax. "Just be thankful it ain't Coach sitting on you this time," he laughs.
"Oh, I'm not complaining," Pax assures him without taking his eyes off me. "This ride's going to be a sweet one."
I kn
ow he doesn't mean it. He's probably playing up to the crowd. I'm bolder tonight than I've ever been so I don't drop his gaze. He seems to like that. His grin widens.
"I'm going to go down on you."
The words are louder than the roar in my head. The words are so loud I freeze.
"Near you." Pax smiles in apology, but his eyes are mischievous. "I'm going to go down near you so you can get off, er, up."
I can only stare at him. I don't know if I should laugh or blush. Or maybe both. I settle for lifting an eyebrow, mimicking him. Pax drops in front of me, like an arrow to his target. The crowd cheers, restless for some action when they see his position on the ground. It's like a show, I remind myself. We're putting on an act. I trace the curve of his back with my eyes, lingering on the arch right above his butt, the curve where a part of me will be on. Something soft and foreign flutters through me.
"All right." Cade turns to me. "When you get on him, just wiggle around until you're comfortable."
I manage to contain the fluttering so my hands don't shake. "Wiggle. Got it." I shift from one foot to another. "Anything else?"
Pax hears the exchange because he speaks up. Looking over his shoulder, he says, "Have fun." A dimple pops out again, sweet, and amusing, and tempting all at once.
Ref blows his whistle to gather everyone's attention. The sharp cry doesn't deter Pax as I watch him do a few push-ups on the ground to get ready. Watching him move is like watching a panther move. Pax's body is a fluid line of rippling muscles so defined and distinct, his skin creates an illusion of secret crevices.
"Every push up is a dollar," Cade shouts to the crowd, reminding them for the thousandth time. "Let's save some fucking lives!" Shouts and applause follow his words as if he's given some grand life-altering speech.
