In the Bad Boy's Bed

by Sophia Ryan

  He reached out to brush away the cluster of tears rolling down my face.

  "Ah, Angel . . . don't cry," he murmured.

  I let out another sob.

  He pulled me against his chest and I gave in. I buried my head in his shirt and just cried. It felt so good to be close to him again, hear his rich voice whispering sweet sounds against my hair, enjoy his hands rubbing my back, feel his heat energizing me. This is what I had been crying for—the closeness I had missed with him. Now that I had it, I realized how much I had missed it.

  But, he didn't want me. He'd made that very clear. Sure, he felt sorry for me because I was crying, but he would comfort any friend, any female friend, if she were in need. I wasn't special to him and that's what I missed. In high school I knew he wanted me, but now, now I was just another girl to him. And that's why I was crying.

  I lifted my head and moved back, away from his comforting touch. I wiped my eyes with my fingertips.

  "Are you OK?" he asked softly, rubbing my arm.

  "I'm fine," I said quickly. "I need to fix my makeup before class." I hurried to the restroom before he could stop me again.

  I went to my classes that day, but I swear I didn't hear one word that was said. It was like those last weeks of high school all over again. Afterward, I went to my room and spent a half an hour in the shower trying to wash off this person I had been all day—one who was depressed, weepy, and no fun.

  I vowed to stay away from Nick for awhile. Give my heart time to heal.

  I spent more time with friends, joined a group, but nothing filled the hole that Nick's leaving left. I missed him. I missed his smile, his voice, the way he smelled. I missed his presence beside me as we walked across campus or sat together studying, eating, talking, laughing. I missed our discussions. I don't know how I ever thought he wasn't smart; he seemed to know so much.

  I had often thought of the many joyous hours we spent making love. Now, I seemed to lived there, in that memory. I could conjure up every sensation, every tingly, tiny tremor that had traveled up and down my body, every fiery kiss that fused our lips together and ripped animal sounds of pleasure from our throats.

  I remember our joining, that wild and passionate surrender into each other, giving of ourselves, each to the other, that mixed our souls, our minds, as well as our bodies. We had marked each other that first night, branded and made each other our own. We truly became one that first night together. Since then, I'd been trying to reclaim my other half.

  I had to get him back.

  * * * * *

  "There you are. You better hurry or we'll be late." My roommate Joni broke up with her boyfriend and was suddenly eager to go to all the parties--and drag me with her.

  "Late for what?"

  "Duh! Tonight's Seduction Soiree at the frat house. Don't tell me you forgot? We've only been planning this for weeks."

  Nick had asked me to go with him. Said we could pretend it was the prom we never had. "Oh, Joni, I . . . I don't even want to go anymore. I'm not ready – my hair's wet, my makeup isn't on—"

  "Well, look, I'm almost ready, I'll help you with your hair soon as I finish. We can still make it. It's good to be fashionably late. Make them wait for our arrival, ya' know."

  "I don't know. I'm not feeling—"

  "Well, I do know, now let's get moving. It'll be fun. You were looking forward to tonight. What happened to change your mind?"

  "Nothing."

  "You mean Nick?"

  "I . . . ." I couldn't finish the sentence, the tears pushed their way through again and I broke down. Hiding my face in my hands, I wept. I didn't think I had that many tears left. I felt Joni hug my shoulders.

  "What did he do now?"

  "He didn't do anything. That's the problem." I grabbed a tissue from the box Joni held out to me and wiped my face. "He doesn't care about me the way I want him to."

  Between sobs I managed to tell her what had happened between us the last few weeks.

  "Angie, that's not so bad. He's interested; just a bit scared. You know how into school he is and how important it is to him that he does well."

  "I don't have a problem with that, but that's all he seems to cares about."

  "Here's what I think: he doesn't want to get involved because he knows he can't give you the attention you deserve, so he plays it safe and tries to keep things friendly, but not too friendly. That way, he keeps you near and he doesn't get hurt."

  "But, I'm being hurt. It kills me the way things are between us. We used to be all over each other in high school. Now, it's like I'm his sister. It sucks. God, I want him so bad, Joni."

  "I think he needs help seeing what it is he wants," Joni said with a smile.

  "I tried everything I know. Nothing's worked."

  "Oh, you haven't tried everything. Listen, what you do is . . . ."

  Chapter Ten

  The soiree was in full swing when Joni and I arrived. Thousands of tiny lights lit up the dance floor and sent a sparkling net out over everything. Women in long gowns every color of the garden looked like blooms ready to be plucked. Men in their black suits, looking so manly and handsome. Odd that I'd just seen some of the men last week at another party, stripped down to their boxers, doing shots out of the belly buttons of some of the women. Ah, what a little spit and polish could do.

  I danced with several guys while keeping an eye out for Nick.

  "Well, well, well, Miss Angie, don't you look fine." Luke Walker's Southern drawl was spot on, but then he was from Alabama.

  I curtsied then fanned my face with one of the plastic ivory fans Joni bought just for this dance because she thought it completed the look. "Mr. Lucas. You make a fine picture yourself."

  He laughed. "I make a picture? What does that mean?"

  I laughed, too. "I have no idea. I remember hearing it in an old movie set in the South."

  He leaned forward toward me, and I smelled whiskey on his breath. I recoiled but it didn't seem to bother him. He moved in closer.

  "I'm going to pretend it means you're hot for my bod." The gentlemanly smile morphed into a wolf's grin.

  I shook my head, making the loose tendrils of my updo dance around my face. "I'm sure it doesn't mean that. And if it does, I take it back." I dropped the accent to make sure he knew I wasn't joking.

  A guy from my English class approached me. "Hi, Angie. Want to dance?"

  "Sure, Greg." Getting away from Luke, giving him time to cool his jets, would be a good thing.

  Greg led me to the dance floor. "So, what do you think of this music."

  "Classical's not my thing, but it fits tonight's mood. Are you a fan?"

  "Yes. Actually, I play oboe for the symphony part time."

  "That's great."

  Greg talked nonstop about the symphony. I was actually relieved when Luke cut in.

  "You looked like you were about to jab your fan into his Adam's apple."

  "No, he's nice. If you need to know anything about the symphony, he's your guy."

  "Yeah, that'll come in handy." Luke rolled his eyes. "Now, football—that's an interesting topic. Did you know I'm on the team?"

  "Uh, yeah, you told me." I kept trying to avert my face so I didn't have to smell his breath. What the hell was I doing? I didn't want hang out with Luke, and Nick wasn't even here to see me and get jealous.

  Luke and I danced another song together, mainly because I couldn't get a word in to say thanks for the dance, now leave me alone so I can get feeling back in my toes from where you've stomped all over them. When I finally was able to extract myself, he followed me off the floor and trapped me in the corner, telling me about his last game, and sipping from his silver flask.

  I'm sure to all in the room we looked like a couple on the edge of a big game-ending play. I was trying hard not to yawn during his ever-more-slurred football tales of glory when I felt eyes on me. I glanced around. Nick walked across the room toward me, eyes never leaving me.

  God he looked hot. His black su
it fit him perfectly, making his shoulders look even broader, his waist cut even tighter. The material of his pants smoothed over his hips and down his long legs like a waterfall of silk. He was clean shaven, and I wanted to run my mouth over his smooth jaw, chin, cheeks, feel the baby softness against my skin. I bet he smelled really good, too. His hair looked a little damp at the ends, which meant he was fresh from the shower. That's the man I want.

  I figured it was as good a time as any to put Joni's plan into effect, so I zoned back in to Luke's tale and laughed a little too robustly, making sure to trail my hand down his arm for effect.

  "Ooh . . . I love this song. Let's dance." I lied, having no idea what the song was. But I smiled prettily.

  Luke went for it, as if he were fine with getting a chance to put his arms around me again. We stumbled onto the dance floor. Well, he stumbled, I walked.

  As he moved me around the room in clumsy circles, I tried to find Nick in the crowd. I finally spotted him standing near the far wall by the bar, watching me. The next time I was facing that way again, he was gone. My heart sank.

  I knew Joni's plan wouldn't work, I knew it would only make him forget me even faster. My mind was on Nick, but it should have been on Luke. The next thing I knew, he had danced me into the dark recesses of the room and was kissing my neck and trying to put his hands all over my body.

  "Luke, let's dance some more." I pounded his chest and tried to back away, but he pulled me tightly in his grasp and kept mauling me.

  "I see how you been looking at me all night, Ms. Angie. I'm gonna give you what you been asking for."

  He had pushed me against the wall and pinned my body with his. I couldn't move.

  "Luke, I said stop it."

  I had barely finished my sentence when his body was off mine and sprawled on the floor. Nick grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door. Too shocked to speak, I followed him out. Before we got out of the yard, though, Luke was there behind us; he pushed Nick.

  Nick stumbled but didn't fall. He spun around to face his attacker.

  "What the hell, punk!" Luke said. "Nobody takes my girl and jerks me around. I'm going to fuck you up." He swung his fist toward Nick's face.

  Nick dodged the clumsy blow and delivered one of his own to Luke's block jaw.

  Luke went down. He tried to get up but couldn't. He lay there, groaning drunkenly.

  Nick grabbed my hand. We ran down the car-lined street to where his motorcycle was parked. He jumped on and started it. I gathered up my skirts as well as I could, climbed on behind him, and held on for dear life. He kicked it into gear, and we sped away from the party.

  We said nothing during the ride; he concentrated on the traffic while I concentrated on the feel of my arms holding onto him, of my front cradled into his back. The wind whipped around me, pulling my hair up like it was caught in an upward spiraling waterfall. I didn't know where Nick was going. I didn't care. I was with him, his heat burning into my body, and that's all that mattered. So for now, at least, this very moment, I was just where I wanted to be.

  I smiled into the wind and hugged closer to the familiar body in front of me. I buried my nose into the soft material of his suit jacket and breathed deeply of his distinctive scent, something I've never been able to describe without sounding like a commercial touting the benefits of a fresh-from-the-shower clean feeling.

  We drove for about five minutes before he pulled into a deserted park, stopped the bike under a grove of trees, and killed the motor. He just sat there, gripping the handlebars, silent and still. H was so silent in fact that it worried me. Maybe Luke had got off a lucky punch I hadn't seen.

  I rubbed my hands up and down his chest lightly and whispered his name.

  He turned his head slightly toward me, but didn't look at me. Enough moonlight shone for me to see the grim line to his mouth. He dismounted, and walked a few feet away. The tension between us hung heavy and thick as a steel curtain.

  Lifting my skirts high, I got off the bike and moved to stand in front of him.

  "You're so quiet. Say something." I slipped my arms around his waist, slid my hands up his back.

  He kept his arms at his sides.

  "What do you want me to say?" he finally said.

  "Start with why you brought me here?"

  He looked at me, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Would you rather have stayed with Luke?" Sarcasm dripped from his words.

  "No. But you didn't have to charge in like an Army Ranger to save me. I could have handled him."

  "Yeah, I saw how you were handling him." His emphasis was heavy on the word handling.

  "Nothing was going on. We—"

  "Nothing going on! Hell, he had you pinned in the corner, his knee between your legs, his hands and his mouth all over you. He was this close to having your panties off and you screwed to the wall. Just how naïve are you, Angel, if you think nothing was going on between you two?"

  "There were other people there; he wasn't going to do anything in a room full of people. I wouldn't have let him do anything."

  "Honey, no one in that room was paying any attention to you two love birds all over each other hiding in that dark corner."

  "It wasn't like that."

  "He would have taken you right there and there would have been nothing you could have done to stop him. Is that what you wanted?"

  "What do you think? Of course not!"

  "Then why, Angel? Why were you hanging all over him, letting him touch you?"

  "We, I . . . well, we started out just talking and dancing, then, I, well I . . . . "

  "You what?" he demanded.

  "I wanted to make you jealous."

  "Oh great. You let yourself get nearly raped just to get my attention?"

  "Hey, he was a little out of control, but he wasn't going to rape me."

  "Rape is exactly what was going to happen if I hadn't have gotten you out of there."

  "Oh, my savior."

  "You bet your sweet little ass I am! Fuck! Why did I even bother?"

  "Why did you?"

  "Hell if I know!"

  "No, really Nick. I want to know—why did you bother?"

  "What kind of a stupid question is that?"

  "One that deserves an answer. You've told me over and over that you don't care about me, so why do you care what Luke had in mind? Why did you rescue me from him and from every other guy you see expressing an interest in me?"

  "Would I get into a fight with a 220-pound defensive lineman and risk getting jumped by the entire football team if I didn't care?"

  "That doesn't answer my question."

  He grabbed me by the arms, crushed his lips against mine, rough with anger, hunger, frustration. Our bodies locked in a steel-tight grip that was more battle than embrace. But soon the kiss changed, turning passionate and needy, then deep and erotic.

  Our tense grip relaxed. We pulled each other even closer, until I thought we would fuse into one entity.

  "Does that answer your question?" he whispered when our lips finally parted. His thumb gently stroked my kiss-plumped lips.

  I swallowed the lump of need so I could speak. "It tells me a lot, but not enough.

  Tell me more."

  He kissed me again, and when he spoke, it was softly against my cheek. "I would fight anyone who tried to hurt you or take you from me."

  "Why, Nick? Tell me why."

  To my surprise, he left my side and walked a bit away from me. "You know how I felt about you in high school."

  "Yes."

  He was quiet for a moment. "Before I met you, getting out of that school was all I wanted. I didn't fit in, and I know that most people thought I was nothing more than a loser with no future. What they didn't know was that I had been taking summer and home-school classes from the time I got kicked out of my first school. There was nothing I wanted more than to graduate early, get on to college sooner, get out and get a good job with good pay so my family would never go without anything again."

  He tu
rned to me, the anger gone from his eyes, his mouth.

  "That all changed that night on the river when you and I made love. It's like you owned me that night; I couldn't get you out of my mind. That last semester was the best and worst time of my life. Being with you was like . . . it was a great high when we were together, and a hard crash when we weren't. We were so intense together that it burned out all thoughts of anything else. After that first time with you, all I could think about was being with you again. I came close to failing one of my classes. If I had failed, I would have lost my scholarship to this college."

  "Surely one bad class wouldn't have kept you out, from this college or another one?"

  "Angel, if I had failed that class, it would have ended my shot at college because I wouldn't have stayed around to make it up. I couldn't stand being so close to you, being able to watch you from afar but not being able to talk to you or kiss you or touch you or make love to you. I couldn't stand the thought of seeing you end up with some other guy.

  I had to get away."

  "You got your wish. You never looked back. Never said goodbye."

  "Actually, I did say goodbye . . . at that Christmas party. Where you said you wanted nothing to do with me."

  I dipped my head in remembrance. "I didn't mean it, Nick. It really hurt when you left school, left town; I was shocked at how much. I didn't know where you had gone, or why. I thought you had just . . . ." I shrugged, not wanting to say aloud what it was I had thought.

  "Dropped out? Got kicked out?"

  Ashamed, I nodded my head. "I'm sorry, Nick. I'm sorry for a lot of things I did and said. Why didn't you ever tell me about your college plans?"

  "I don't know." He grinned. "We were usually too busy doing other things. But, look, I didn't tell you this to get an apology—we're not doing I'm sorry anymore, remember?"

  I nodded. He continued.

  "When I saw you here, at that dance, I was thrilled. I thought we might be able to pick up where we left off. But when I felt that same heat between us, I was afraid it would overtake me here like it did in high school and derail me. I've got my whole future wrapped up in college. If I lose my scholarship, I may not get a second chance."