by Aston, Jana
WRONG
Jana Aston
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2015 by Jana Aston
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design by JA Huss
ISBN: 978-0-692-52777-1
Created with Vellum
This book is dedicated to Kristi Carol for putting up with my insecurities all year. Beverly Tubb for loving the first draft more than I did. And Julie Huss, without whom this book would never, ever have happened.
Chapter 1
"Sophie, your favorite customer is here." Everly snaps a towel on my ass and grins at me.
"Everly, shut up! He'll hear you."
Fuck, I'm already blushing. Luke. He comes into the coffee shop every Tuesday morning. It's the highlight of my morning shift at Grind Me, a coffee shop just off campus. I work around my classes at the University of Pennsylvania. The Grind Me location I work at caters mainly to professionals and students living in off-campus apartments.
Luke definitely falls into the professional category. I'm not sure what he does, but he strolls into Grind Me in very expensive-looking suits and sharp ties. Nothing like the college boys in athletic pants and graphic-print tee shirts. He must be ten, fifteen years older than me. It doesn't matter. He's beautiful and I have a bit of a thing for him, which is bad because I have a boyfriend. An age-appropriate boyfriend. But it's just a harmless crush, right?
But Luke… he makes my panties wet just ordering coffee. He's tall, over six feet by my estimate. Thick dark hair, brown eyes and eyelashes any girl would kill for. He's wearing a dark gray suit today with a plum-colored tie. Fucking swoon.
His hands, I'm a little obsessed with them. Long fingers ending in short, impeccably clean nails. They just look… capable. I have a lot of fantasies involving his hands and my body. He's gotta know what he's doing with those hands. I bet he could get me off in minutes—those perfect fingers would know just where to curve while his thumb pressed down on my clit. He could probably make me come one-handed while he finished a phone call on his cell with the other.
I have a lot of fantasies about Luke based on nothing more than pouring him a cup of coffee every Tuesday and ringing him up. Always cash. I have no idea what his last name is. I wouldn't even know his first name if I hadn't listened in to one of his calls while he pulled a twenty from his wallet. "It's Luke, tell Dr. Kallam it's urgent, I'll hold."
Unfortunately, I don't think my fantasies are returned. I don't think he'd even know my name if it wasn't stamped in bold on a pin stuck to the front of my apron.
"Sophie." He always addresses me by name. Good morning, Sophie. I'll have the dark roast, Sophie. I think you have a bit of whipped cream on your nose, Sophie. That stuff splatters, okay? "Sophie?" Oh, shit. Has he been talking to me while I fantasized?
"Sorry! Um, daydreaming." He smirks at me. Bastard. "Large dark roast?"
"Please." He slides a five-dollar bill across the counter. "Have a great day, Sophie." He smiles again as he turns and strolls out of the shop. I watch him walk, free to eye-fuck him without being caught. The door jingles shut behind him but I keep watching until he's out of sight.
"Whew, that was hot." Everly fans herself with a takeout bag. "Sexual tension. Is it warm in here?"
"Stop it."
She loves teasing me. We go through this every week. He must hear her snickering in the background. And she ensures I'm the one who waits on him every time. If she's at the counter when he arrives she immediately finds something else to do so she can step back and watch me ogle him. It's embarrassingly obvious.
"Enough of the mysterious hottie. Are you going to put out and fuck Mike or not? You've made him wait like, a month? That's a long time in horny college-boy time. Plus, you're the oldest virgin on campus. Not even our campus. All the campuses."
"It's not my fault I dated a gay guy for two years." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and cross my arms across my chest. I'm a little defensive about this.
"Hello? Earth to delusional. You didn't find it odd you were dating a twenty-year-old guy who never tried to stick his dick in you?" Everly dumps beans into the industrial-sized grinder and raises a skeptical eyebrow in my direction. I hand her a stack of one-pound Grind Me bags labeled for individual sale and lean against the opposite counter.
"I thought he respected me, not that he was afraid of vaginas," I tell her, kicking the rubber mat on the floor over an inch. "He let me suck him off." I add this in, hoping it's a valid point in my defense.
Everly snorts. "Yeah, with the lights off."
I bite my lip and look away.
"Oh my God! I was joking. I'm so sorry, Sophie. Shit, seriously? Guys love to watch themselves get sucked. But Scott was probably picturing a dude while his dick was in your mouth, so… Oh, fuck. I’m making this worse." Everly drops the coffee bag under the dispenser. Beans scatter across the counter and drop to the floor while she grabs me into a giant hug. "Lots of guys would love to fuck you, Sophie. I promise. Like Luke. That guy would love to stick it in you, he's just concerned you're jailbait. But you should start with Mike anyway. Tall, dark and handsome looks like he's packing a donkey dick."
"You've got a really charming way with words, Everly. You should write a book or something." I break out of her hug and grab the broom to sweep the coffee beans off the floor.
"Anyway, it's a go with Mike, right? Just get it over with. Mike will do, he's hot. I'd fuck him."
"Everly!"
"I wouldn't do him without a condom though. Safety first. And tell me you made an appointment with the student clinic. You should always have two forms of birth control, because I'm not ready to be a grandmother." Everly hops up onto the back counter and watches me sweep. "You missed a few to your left."
"Everly, you're twenty-one and we're not related. You wouldn't be the grandmother."
"Whatever. Semantics."
"That's not what semantics means. What are you majoring in again?" I glance over as she swipes a muffin from the bakery case and peels the wrapper back.
"I'm majoring in Professor Camden," she replies around a mouthful of muffin. "Which is better than this muffin. Jesus. Who pays for this crap?"
"Not you, clearly," I observe as she tosses the muffin into the t
rash. "Yes. I have an appointment at the clinic today after shift. I shaved my legs and everything." I pull an elastic from my wrist and gather my long brown hair into a ponytail before bending down to sweep Everly's mess into a dustpan.
"What about your vagina? Did you shave that?" Everly reaches back into the bakery case and extracts a brownie covered in caramel.
"Noooo," I respond slowly. "I don't think the gynecologist will expect me to be bald. Right?"
"Holy fuck. This brownie. Now this is good. Orgasmic good. How much are we charging for these things?" I'm guessing she doesn't care because she doesn't stop talking or check the shelf tag for a price. "Oh my God. Do you want a bite?" I shake my head no and she continues.
"I can't wait for you to have an orgasm. Not a brownie orgasm, a penis orgasm. Which you won't have this weekend unless Mike is really, really talented. Which he's not old enough to be, trust me. But that fucker better make you come with his tongue or fingers before he sticks it in you. ’Cause that is not going to feel great the first time or two. So yeah, Mike might want you bald. I'll hook you up with my girl Leah. Her waxing skills, amaze."
She drops the half-eaten brownie on the counter and pulls her cell phone from her pocket while I’m distracted with a customer. By the time I finish making a medium vanilla hazelnut latte and turn back to Everly, she's finished her phone call and gone back to devouring the brownie.
"You're all set. Thursday. I texted you the address. You're welcome."
"Everly! I never agreed to get waxed."
"Don't be a pussy. The gynecologist is more uncomfortable than a waxing. You're going to love it, trust me. The friction is so much better during sex. God." She smiles. "Plus even in your jeans. I swear you're going to be horny all day Friday with your bare vagina rubbing against your jeans."
I shake my head. "This conversation is so wrong."
"What are you girls talking about? Naked pillow fights at the dorm?"
"Shut up, Jeff." Everly doesn't even look up from her brownie.
"You can't speak to me that way, Everly. I'm your manager, it's insubordination." Jeff is a senior at the university, just like we are. His father owns this little chain of coffee shops and gave Jeff this one to manage.
"You can't sexually harass us either, yet you do. Why don't I conference-call your daddy and we can discuss my sexual harassment lawsuit while you lodge your insubordination complaint?”
"Fine," Jeff mutters. "At least get off the counter. And write down all the food you steal on the stale list. My inventory is always off when you work." He turns around and heads back into his office. It's not really an office, it's a desk he set up in the stock room—complete with an executive chair he picked up at Costco one weekend, dragging it through the back door like he was setting up shop to run a small empire, not manage other college students at a coffee house.
Everly hops off the counter muttering under her breath. "That guy's got a future ahead of him. In middle management, where he'll motivate no one and annoy everyone."
"He's not that bad, Everly." She gives me a look that says she disagrees. "Okay, he is that bad," I agree.
"Truth." She goes back to filling the one-pound bags of coffee and thankfully drops the topic of waxing. I'm not sure I intend to keep that appointment. The one I have later this morning is enough to think about.
Chapter 2
The rest of my shift passes in a blur of lattes, iced mochas and a steady stream of both commuting students headed to campus and professionals headed to nearby businesses. After clocking out I make my way to the nearest bus stop on foot. I have less than an hour to make my appointment at the student clinic and I don't want to miss it. Condoms are easy enough to get, but getting a prescription for birth control requires an appointment and an exam, and if I miss this appointment there's no telling how long it will be until the next opening.
The university has a shuttle system that loops around the campus, but Grind Me is several blocks outside the transit loop, hence why our undergraduate student customers are few. It's cool outside with fall well under way and I wrap my jacket tighter around me as I hustle to the bus stop, grateful that a bus is pulling up just as I arrive. The buses run every fifteen to twenty minutes so I'm glad to have caught this one.
The shuttle bus is fairly empty, it being late morning. Students are already in class or still sleeping. The clinic is only a few stops away on Market Street, between my Grind Me stop and my dorm. I've only used the clinic once before, freshman year, when a case of strep throat made its way through half my dorm.
It's quiet when I arrive, the receptionist looking bored while a couple of students wait for appointments, passing the time on their smartphones. She hands me a clipboard filled with forms and instructs me to complete them and sign every page before bringing them back to her.
I take a seat and hurry my way through the questionnaire. Name, student ID, phone, allergies, medications, family medical history, date of last period. Still less invasive than an average shift at Grind Me with Everly. The thought makes me smirk. I finish and slide the pen under the clip before returning the entire thing to the receptionist and sitting back down to wait.
I'm relieved when a nurse calls my name moments later. Hopefully this will go quickly and I'll be out of here in the next half hour with a prescription in hand.
The nurse is a friendly-looking woman with a big smile wearing zebra-print scrubs who tells me to call her Marie. She starts chatting the minute I'm through the door, leading me to an exam room where she gets my weight and blood pressure before explaining that I will need to remove all my clothing including underwear. I'm not sure who attempts a gynecologist appointment with their underwear on, but I don't say anything.
"What brings you in to see the doctor today, Sophie?" Marie peers at me over her clipboard, smiling kindly. I bet her grandkids love her. She's got three. They spent the weekend at her house and wore her out. She's told me all about it while taking my vitals, gesturing and laughing at their antics.
"Birth control. I'd like to get on the pill." I try to sound confident, despite my embarrassment at speaking about my potential sex life with her. She reminds me of my grandmother, the woman who raised me. My mom had me her freshman year of college and died before I was two.
"Good, you're a smart girl. It's always wise to take charge of your birth control." The nurse nods approvingly. "Have you been to a gynecologist before?"
"No."
"Well, then you're in luck. We have Dr. Miller on Tuesday mornings. He's the chief of obstetrics at the hospital, but he volunteers here a few hours a week. Otherwise you'd be stuck with one of our general practitioners and they're not known for being gentle. I'll give you a minute to undress and then I'll be back with the doctor."
The door closes behind the nurse with a whoosh. I quickly disrobe, tucking my bra and panties between my shirt and jeans, as it seems rude to leave them visible. I slip the dreaded paper gown on and hop onto the table. Shit. My socks. Marie didn't mention socks. I wish she had. Underwear I know I have to take off, but socks? Is it weird if I leave them on, or weird if I take them off? I'm still debating when there's a knock on the door asking if I'm ready. Socks on then, I guess.
The door swings open and Marie walks in.
With Luke.
Coffee-shop Luke.
The suit jacket he was wearing this morning is gone, replaced by a white lab coat. The plum-colored tie I was so enamored with just a couple of hours ago is still knotted firmly around his neck.
Oh my God. My fantasy crush is a gynecologist. My gynecologist.
Chapter 3
"You okay, sweetie?" Marie shuts the door and pulls a tray of instruments next to the exam table. "I told Doctor Miller it's your first time, he'll be gentle."
My face must betray my mortification. I look at Luke. I thought he hesitated when he walked in the room, but now he's giving nothing away.
"Sophie"—he glances down at his chart—"Tisdale. Miss Tisdale, I think we've met before?"<
br />
Am I having an out-of-body experience? Can this moment get any more embarrassing? He doesn't even know where to place me outside of the coffee shop. The guy I have fantasized about every Tuesday for weeks is now my gynecologist, and worse—better?—he doesn't know who I am.
"Grind Me,” I blurt out. Oh my God, stupid coffee shop name. “The coffee shop, Grind Me." His expression never changes.
He glances back down at the chart in his hand. "Undergraduate, twenty-one." He trails off, his finger tapping the underside of the clipboard. Damn him and his attractive fingers. He flips a couple of pages on my chart. "You wanted a prescription for birth control?" He looks me straight on and my heart rate skyrockets. This is not how I imagined having his undivided attention.
"Right," I reply.
"Have you given any thought to what form of birth control you'd like? The pill is a pretty convenient choice for women your age. I could give you an IUD, but I don't recommend them for younger women who haven't yet had children. There's a patch and ring, they both have pros and cons as well."
"Just the pill," I interrupt him. "The pill is fine."
"I can't stress enough that you need to practice safe sex and use a condom in addition to the birth control pill, unless both you and your partner have been tested and decide to take that risk."
"Okay, I will."
He pauses. "You will or you do? It only takes one time, Sophie." He's washing his hands in the small sink along the wall, then turns back to me as he dries his hands on a paper towel. "Are you currently sexually active?"
"Um, no."
"So no sexual contact in the last four weeks?"
"Um, no. I've never had sex."
He pauses for a second then, his eyes moving from the paper towel in his hands to meet mine. "Okay, then." He shakes his head a little and tosses the paper towel into the trash. "We'll start with a breast exam and then do the pelvic. I'll get a swab for a pap smear, though I don't anticipate any issues. The clinic will call you within a week if there are any abnormalities." He glances at the instrument tray. "Bev, can you get me a small speculum? I assume you have some here." Marie pops up from her position on a stool by the door and leaves the room.
