The Boy Next Door (Sorority Secrets)

by Stevie J. Cole

  I seize the broom handle, snatch it away from him, and rest it against the counter. “Sit down.” I point at the bar stool, and he begrudgingly takes a seat while I find a clean bar towel. “Evan, I swear...” Shaking my head, I place one hand on his shoulder and use the towel to gently dab at the scratches on his face.

  “I hate that asshole,” he mumbles before hissing in a breath when I touch one of the cuts. “Careful.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Em, please...” He stares at me, his green eyes setting hard on mine. There’s a pause, a second, where the murmur of the crowded bar fades into the background. It’s moments like this I can’t help but wish I could press my mouth to his.

  “It was about me, wasn’t it?” I sigh.

  Evan’s gaze slowly drifts to the floor and his shoulders fall. I carefully place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my fingertip over his stubble. “You’re sweet.”

  He covers my hand with his. “You mean everything to me, Em. Always have. Always will.”

  My heart does that stupid pitter-patter thing, and I remind myself that no matter how much I wish it meant more, it can’t. I love him and I can’t lose him, which is why I could never date him—even if he loved me the way I love him. So I smile, kiss him on the cheek, and grab the broom to sweep up the mess behind the bar.

  Chapter Four

  Evan

  By the time we managed to get the bar straightened up, it was past three in the morning. My apartment is only a mile away from The Brew House, so I convinced Em to stay at my place. Maybe I should feel guilty about suckering her into shit like this, but I don’t.

  The second we get in my bedroom, I grab a T-shirt from one of my drawers and toss it at her. She circles her finger in the air, motioning for me to turn around.

  Sighing, I face the wall. I strip down to my boxers, letting the waist ride low enough I know she can see the top of my ass. “I’ve seen you naked before, Emma.”

  “Yes, Peeping Tom, I know...” I hear the springs to the bed creak. “Okay, I’m dressed.”

  I turn around and take the two steps toward my bed then sink below the covers next to her. I’ve slept with Em countless times—a benefit of our friendship as well as a cruel form of torture. “I still think you got undressed in front of your window on purpose,” I say.

  “Think whatever you need to feel less pervy about it.” She yawns, and I stretch my arm out across the pillow. Emma snuggles to my chest before I wrap my arm around her. “You would think I did it just to give you your own personal peep show...”

  “I mean, any good friend would.”

  She laughs, walking her fingers across my chest likes she’s done so many times. “So that’s why you always left your blinds open, huh?”

  A smirk works over my face. “Of course...” I had hoped, eventually, if she saw me naked enough, it would break through some friendship barrier. So I strutted around in front of my open blinds ass-naked on a regular basis.

  “I never watched, just so you know.”

  “Liar.”

  “I didn’t, although half my friends did. I’m pretty sure that’s why they always wanted sleepovers to be at my place. Shameless whores...”

  “Uh-huh.” I sweep her hair away from her face and shift on the pillow. It would be so easy to turn my face and kiss her, to slide my hands over the flare of her hip and loop my fingertip underneath the waistband of her underwear. I wonder if she’d stop me... Then I think about Winston doing those things instead.

  “What?” she says.

  “Nothing.”

  “I felt you go all tense, don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?”

  I stare at the ceiling, fully aware that I shouldn’t bring the auction back up. If I truly were the whore she believes I am, she would be right. I’d be in no place to tell her what the hell to do. But—I’m not that guy.

  She huffs. “I know you’re not still all pissy about the auction.”

  “It’s messed up,” I say.

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It fucking is!”

  She tries to roll over, but I hold on to her, pinning her against my side. “Nuh-uh. You aren’t rolling over and pouting. I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because I love you.” I swallow.

  I’ve told her that a million times, but she’s never heard it the way I mean it. The first time I told her I loved her, we were seventeen and sitting on her back porch swing. I’d read some dumb article in Cosmo about when to say I love you. It said you’d just know, that the moment would feel right. Well, that night on her back porch, it felt right, so I told her. She smiled and kissed my cheek. “I love you too, Ev,” she said. And then she asked me for pointers on how to get Matt Thomas to date her.

  Of course it would be my luck that they one girl I wanted something more with wouldn’t be able to see me as anything but a friend.

  “I love you, too, Ev,” she whispers. “But really, you don’t need to worry about it.”

  “A stranger. You are going to give your V-card to a stranger?”

  “I mean, what’s to say that two weeks from now I don’t end up drunk at a bar and having a one-night stand with a stranger?” I hear what she’s saying, but I pick up on the hesitation in her tone. “At least this way the shelter and Jessie’s family gets money.” She sighs. “Sean’s medical bills are outrageous...”

  “That’s not your problem.”

  “Evan...” There’s a hint of agitation in her voice and she’s going rigid in my arms. “Just drop it.”

  “You can’t trust people.”

  “Drop it.”

  “It’s not like you.”

  “I’m not discussing this with you.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine!”

  My pulse bangs in my ears like a steel drum. I clench my jaw. I need to just keep my mouth shut... “But I think it’s stupid.”

  She huffs and I finally let her roll to her side.

  “You can’t be mad at me for caring about you.”

  “I’m not.”

  I stare at the ceiling, the silence between us eating away at me. Eventually, the sound of her breaths even out, and I know she’s asleep. As exhausted as I am, I can’t calm my mind, so I slip out of the bed, grab my laptop from my desk, and quietly make my way into the living room.

  The screen buzzes to life. I don’t even know what I’m looking for when I pull up the web browser, but if that dipshit Winston found the auction, it can’t be that hard. After five minutes on Facebook and trolling several frat guy’s pages, I find the link

  A sick feeling twists in my guts when I click on the page and scroll through the pictures. Right in the middle of the page is a photo of Emma holding a copy of Pride and Prejudice in front of her face while she coyly glances over the top. “Jesus...” I mumble, hovering my cursor over her assigned lot: thirty-three. A little box pops up with a current bid amount of three hundred bucks. What college kid has three hundred bucks to spare? It’s either some filthy old geezer—or Winston. I toss the laptop to the side and pace the room for a second, recalling how he said he’d tear her pussy up for me. That’s it. I have no choice, I grab my wallet from my bedroom and sit back down to place my bid of three hundred fifty dollars. Almost immediately, I’m outbid. Fuck! The credit card my parents got me has a one-thousand-dollar limit, and my dad beat into my head that it was for emergency situations only.

  Surely, saving the virginity of the girl you love is a noble cause for debt...

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  I wake to an empty bed. Lifting my head from the pillow, I glance at the red block numbers on Evan’s alarm clock. It’s only nine, so I know he’s not up yet. That asshole slept on the couch! I scrub the sleep from my eyes before climbing out of bed, ignoring how ridicul
ous our relationship is.

  Sure enough, Evan’s sprawled out on his couch, the throw bunched up by his feet and his tattooed chest on full display. “Really?” I say, crossing my arms.

  Evan grunts, flops over on the couch, and almost falls onto the floor. “Shit!”

  “Why did you sleep out here?” I cock my hip to the side.

  “You were snoring.” He yanks the cover back over himself.

  “I do not snore.”

  He grins and those damn dimples pop. “Oh, you do. Like an angry bull,” he says, feigning an awful snort.

  I dig my hands into my hips and stare at him.

  “What?”

  “If you slept out here because of that stupid auction... You do realize you are a grade A manwhore?” He glares at me. “How many girls have you slept with, Evan?”

  “None of your business.” Tossing the blanket to the floor, he huffs.

  “Then don’t make my sex life your business.”

  “Okay, babe. I’ll stay out of your sorority prostitution ring.” The condescending tone to his voice stings at first, then all it does is enrage me.

  Oh, how dare he? A tingling warmth spreads over my chest. “I hate you.”

  “I love you, too.” A sarcastic smile curls his lips before he stands and stretches his arms over his head. I try my hardest not to acknowledge the huge bulge tenting his boxers, but after his stretch, he adjusts himself—and that’s kind of impossible to ignore. When my gaze darts back to his face, he’s smirking.

  I can’t deal with him right now. With a roll of my eyes, I walk into the kitchen and open the cupboard. The cabinets are bare, with the exception of some Lucky Charms, Pop-Tarts, and a container of whey protein powder. “How do you live off this stuff?” I grab the Pop-Tarts. All that is inside is one half-eaten Pop-Tart. “Wow,” I mumble as I pull it out and toss the empty box on the counter.

  He steps in front of me, and just as I bring the Pop-Tart to my mouth, he grabs my wrist and stops me. His eyes lock with mine, and he leans in so close that his nose brushes my cheek when he takes an uninvited bite. My breath hitches. There’s a moment where my brain short-circuits. Where I imagine him pinning me against the wall in his kitchen, threatening to fuck me, but I quickly come back to my senses, pretending he does nothing but annoy me. “Really? With your morning breath and all?”

  “Some girls would love to have my morning breath on their Pop-Tart.”

  All I can do is huff a sigh, cramming the remaining piece of stale Pop-Tart in my mouth on my way down the hall to his room.

  I grab my clothes from last night and go into the bathroom, shutting the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  I turn the taps to the shower. “Taking a shower.”

  “I have to piss.”

  I shoot a smile at my reflection before I yank his oversized T-shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. “There’s a great, big world outside...”

  Just as I step into the shower and close the glass door, he comes into the bathroom. “Evan fucking Drake!”

  “I told you I had to pee, woman.” He lifts the toilet lid, and I turn away when he whips his dick out.

  “I cannot believe you are doing that!”

  He laughs. “And you aren’t even watching.”

  “Oh my God... No wonder you don’t ever date. You lack all refinement.”

  Another laugh, then he flushes the toilet and leaves the room.

  When I come out, he’s in his room with Royal Blood blaring from his iHome while he does pushups. I walk over and turn the volume down.

  “Sixty-two...sixty-three...” he keeps bobbing up and down, his tattoo-covered muscles rippling and popping. A heat blooms between my legs and I quickly divert my attention to the floor.

  “Can you take me back home?”

  “Sixty-four....sixty-five...”

  He knows I hate it when he doesn’t answer me, so I walk over and sit on his back. He manages three more pushups before he collapses on the floor.

  “Fuck’s sake, Em.”

  “You really should work on your stamina.” I push off his back and pick up one of the T-shirts scattered on his floor on my way to the door. Smiling, I toss it at him. “Home please.”

  Chapter Six

  Emma

  The auction ended at noon.

  My fate has been sold and sealed. I’d been trying to convince myself this was just a dating auction, but after listening to the other girls whisper about who won their bid, I’m afraid there really is more to it than I was willing to believe.

  How was I supposed to know it was a legitimate virginity auction? I thought those things were illegal. And what kind of girl literally auctions off her virginity to a stranger? Evidently a girl like me.

  I stop pacing and shake my head. “No,” I say aloud. “They can’t make me sleep with the guy. I mean, they can’t?”

  Momentarily satisfied, I nod my head.

  Surely the guy will understand. Right? I guess it depends on what kind of guy he is. What kind of guy buys a virgin?

  I pace my room, tearing at my cuticles until they bleed. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?

  First things first. I need to find out who won my bid. Taking a deep breath, I pull out the chair to my desk and take a seat. My hand trembles a little when I type in the password to my email.

  There are three messages in my inbox: one from my biology teacher, one about sorority dues, and then one with the subject: Auction Winner. My heart bangs like a trapped bird trying to be freed from a cage. Click. The message opens. “Oh, shit!” I shout, shoving the keyboard away from me.

  A wave of nausea washes over me. Of course he would...

  Dragging my hands down my face, I stare at Winston’s name wishing I had listened to Evan. Oh, God. Evan! I can’t tell him Winston won. He’d kill me, then he’d kill Winston. Talk about a shitshow.

  The longer I think about it, the damper my palms grow.

  With a sigh, I rest my head in my hands and literally cry. I’m not sure if the tears are ones of frustration, of anger, or just despair, but they are tears nonetheless. I allow myself a minute to wallow, then force myself to snap out of it. Crying does no good and, besides, I got myself into this mess.

  This is something I desperately want—no, scratch that—something I need advice on, but I sure as hell can’t call Evan and ask him. I can’t ask any of the sorority sisters if I can jump ship. And that leaves me one choice: my older sister Lindsey. She’s scatterbrained and slightly manic, and she gives terrible advice, which means I always do the exact opposite of her recommendation. It’s better than nothing.

  I pull up Skype and wait while the annoying ring chimes from the computer speakers.

  The little circle with her picture fades away and her heavily made-up face comes into focus. All I can think is that she has on way too much eyeliner. “Hey babe!” she says with a smile.

  “Hey,” I say. She grabs a tube of lipstick and uses the camera as a mirror while she applies the bright pink gloss. “You going somewhere?”

  “Yeah. On a date.”

  “Oh...”

  She smirks before rolling her lip under her teeth. “He’s a guitarist for this band, Brutal Remedy. So hot, but I’ve got a minute before he’ll be here. What’s up?”

  “So, I may have done something really stupid, and am now having second thoughts.”

  “Okay...what was the stupid thing you did?”

  “I may have kind of signed up for a virginity auction—”

  “I’m sorry, a virginity auction?” she snort-laughs. “Wow, that hard up for dick, huh?”

  “Lindsey...”

  “I mean, I get wanting to get rid of it, and honestly, getting some money for it is a little genius—totally slutty, but genius nonetheless.”

  “Lo
ok, it’s for charity.” And at this point, that doesn’t make it sound any better.

  The proud grin she’s wearing fades and she rolls her eyes. “Only you would auction your virginity off for a good cause.”

  “Lindsey. Advice”

  “If you need to know what to do, just watch a porno. Debbie Does Dallas is a classic. Debbie will teach you all the tricks you need.”

  I face-palm. “Not advice about that... The guy who won is a total sleazeball.”

  “Babe, all men are sleazeballs.” She laughs. “Well, what does Evan say about it?” A catty grin shapes her lips.

  “Um, Evan doesn’t know—well, he knows about the auction, which he was pissed about, but—”

  “As he should be. Poor kid, he’s put in a good ten years. He’s got to have the worst case of blue balls in modern history.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on, Emma, don’t be dense. He’s into you. How is that not obvious?”

  “He’s...not. I mean, he plowed his way through half the girls in high school by the time we graduated and he never once tried anything with me.”

  “That means nothing. Guys see an available hole, they poke it. You just didn’t seem available.”

  I drop my gaze to my keyboard, wiping at a piece of fuzz on the M key. “We’re friends.”

  “Pftt. Yeah right. You two have it bad for each other.”

  “I couldn’t date him anyway. I mean, what happens if we break up? I don’t want to hate him. I’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.”

  “Oh, sweet, innocent, Emma...” Lindsey sighs. “What are you going to do when he gets a girlfriend? Not some fuckbuddy, but a girlfriend. What are you going to do when it’s not you at his apartment all the time, when it’s not you sleeping over at his house? Eventually, he’s going to settle down with someone, and then where do you fit in, huh? Because most girls aren’t going to be okay with the relationship you two have.”

  A tiny fissure of panic tears through me, a twinge of jealousy at whoever this girl will be.

  “You don’t have to be dating someone to be in love with them.”