by J B Heller
I frown, “You, moron, with your little you’re going to need to cut that shit out, speech,” I say, imitating his much deeper voice as best I can.
He smiles just a little, “Okay, I’m sorry for how it came out, what I was trying to point out is being jealous will get you nowhere. It accomplishes nothing. I’m here, with you, calling you, texting you, thinking about you, fucking pining after you. Nobody else. Past booty calls don’t matter, yeah, they happened, so what? It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change this,” he says that last part softly, as his lips descend to mine and he kisses me slowly.
His full lips work over mine gently, teasing, sucking, then his tongue is in my mouth sliding against mine. His hands at my waist lift me, and pull me closer to him until I’m sitting in his lap fully. I can feel him hardening between my legs and it makes me squirm, my fingers fisting in his hair as I rock my hips ever so slightly against him.
Carters hands slide up and down my back right down to my butt as he holds it tight in his palms and squeezes, “You’re so lucky you’re wearing shorts right now, Chance,” he breathes against my lips.
I grin, “Why’s that?” I pant back.
He moves his mouth away from mine enough to speak clearly, “Because if you were wearing a skirt, I don’t know how good my self-control would be in this situation. You feel so good in my hands, I want to touch every inch of you.”
A shudder rolls down my spine with his words and the image they paint in my mind. For a moment, I wish I were wearing a damn skirt, but no, I’ve never given it away so freely before, and I’m not going to start now.
I grin at him, “What makes you think I’d let you?”
He scoffs, “Oh sweetness, you’d let me,” he chuckles.
And just to prove my point that I’m not like every other little skank he’s had his hands on in the past, I stand. Then back away from him slowly. He lets me go, his hands sliding down my legs until I’m out of his reach. But he watches me like a predator, never shifting his focus off my own for a second.
His hand moves just as I make it to the old fashioned lamp that shines over the area, and before I know it, his phone is pointed at me and he’s taken my picture. I narrow my eyes at him as he gets to his feet, slides his phone into his back pocket, and takes a step forward.
I turn and run, laughing as I weave my way back up the path to the parking lot. Carter catches me easily and lifts me in the air, laughing with me, “You’re trouble,” he murmurs in my ear, when he sets me back on my feet.
Smiling up at him, I tilt my head to the side, “Looks like you’ve met your match, Carter Cross,” I say, as I waggle my brows at him.
He drops a quick kiss to my lips, then turns me around and marches me right up to the driver side of my car, slaps me on the butt and says, “Off you go, before I really lose my grip and decide to eat you alive right here.”
I lean back into his hard body for a moment, enjoying his warm embrace, “Night,” I chirp then open my door and slide in.
Carter is so much more complicated than I realised before. He’s not your typical football jock. He’s sweet, yet domineering. He plays football with the other preppy arseholes around here, but he’s not one of them. How did I not see how different he was from them before?
I guess, I didn’t care. But I do now. A lot more than I should for having had his attention on me for such a short time. All of a sudden, he’s all I can think about. I want to know more about him. Which explains why I’m staring at my laptop screen feeling more than a little queasy at the images before me.
Maybe googling MMA was not such a great idea after all. My stomach rolls as I watch a clip of two guys seemingly trying to rip each other to shreds with their bare hands. There’s blood, and oh god, he just dislocated that guy’s shoulder, I flinch and look away before I hurl.
I can feel the heat of his gaze on me so I scan my surroundings, looking for him. I spot him leaning against a tree about twenty or so meters from me, one foot propped back against the trunk, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on me.
His friends talking animatedly around him don’t distract him, his focus is zeroed in on my face. I feel a blush begin to creep up my neck, and I dip my head down to hide behind my laptop. Does he know what I’m looking at? He can’t, not from all the way over there.
Knowing that his friends are going to realise that he isn’t paying them any attention pretty damn soon, makes me shift uncomfortably. I stretch my legs clad in unicorn leggings out in front of me and cross my ankles. The freshly cut grass prickles me a little through my leggings, making me itch. Or is it his intense gaze locked on my every move that’s making me itchy? I don’t know, but I decide that I’m done sitting on the grass either way.
Closing, then sliding my laptop back into my satchel, I get to my feet then dust the small grass clippings off my legs and giving them a good scratch too. I can’t understand why I’m having this reaction to him. It’s not like I’ve never had the attention of a hot guy before.
Turning my back to him does nothing to ease the tension that engulfed my body the moment I felt his eyes on me. Damn it.
Running my hands over my butt, I dust off the bits of grass sticking to my baggy white T with the words NO FILTER written in bold black ink across the front, then sling my satchel over my shoulder and make my way back to the building housing my next class.
I’m not sure what’s worse, having Carter stare at me from a distance, or having him up in my personal space. They seem to have the same potent effect on my body and mental state. I don’t feel relief from the weight of his stare until I enter the building and I’m shielded from his view.
Making a quick stop in the girl’s room, I walk in on two chicks gossiping about Carter. Great, he’s everywhere. I roll my eyes as I push into one of the stalls and hang my satchel on the hook behind the door, locking it behind me.
“Carter’s been ignoring my calls,” Bimbo One whines.
“Maybe he’s been getting serviced somewhere else?” Bimbo Two chuckles.
Bimbo One, who I’ve decide to refer to as B1, gasps dramatically, “You think?”
At least my powers of invisibility are still intact around the airheads, they continue with their conversation as if I’m not even here.
B2 clucks her tongue, “He’s got a big appetite, you two were never a couple. You should know better than to expect exclusive rights to a guy like Carter.”
I finish my business, tug up my leggings, then flush the toilet, hoping that will silence their little chat. But no such luck. They’re still babbling when I swing the door of my stall open with so much force that it bangs against the wall, as I walk through it and step up to the sink beside them to wash my hands.
B1 is pouting at her reflexion in the mirror as she reapplies her pink lip gloss, “I know, but I told him I wanted to be. I haven’t been with anyone else since we started hooking up.”
B2 smirks, “And what did he say to that?”
A pathetic whine comes from B1 and I cringe as I snatch some paper towels from the dispenser, drying my hands as quickly as possible. Must get out of here. Unfortunately, B1’s voice carries behind me as I flee, “He said he doesn’t do monogamy.”
I’m not watching where I’m going as I make my escape and run straight into Carter’s right hand man, Mase. I look up into his face and he’s grinning down at me, his hands snake around my waist and I freeze up. What the hell is he doing?
“How you doin,’ sweet cheeks?” Mase drawls, as his hands slide down and give my butt a squeeze.
My eyes widen, “Have you lost your mind?” I ask, eyeing his offending hands over my shoulder then flashing my pissed off glare back to him.
Before he can answer, I feel myself being pulled from Mase’s embrace and into another big, firm, warm body. But this one smells like peppermint. Carter. I relax back into him and tilt my head see his face. He’s shooting daggers at his best friend, “What the fuck man?” Carter seethes.
Mase grins, �
�What?”
Carter tenses behind me, “You’re fucking with me, right? For your sake, you better be.”
Mase bursts out laughing, does he have a death wish?
“Dude you should see your face right now. Of course, I’m screwing with you, as if I’d try feeling up your girl when you’re not around to see it. Where’s the fun in that?” he snorts and rolls his eyes.
I glare at him, “Arsehole,” I mumble just as I hear an outraged screech behind me. Poking my head around Carter’s wide frame, I see B1 and B2 have exited the bathroom and are now staring at Carter’s back with murderous intent. Oh shit.
“Uh, Carter, your fan club would like a meeting with you,” I say, as I step out of his arms and back away as the bitches begin to round Carter. “I’ll see you later,” I murmur, as I increase my pace then spin on my black ballet flats and get the hell out of there.
They, Carter’s groupies, were one thing I didn’t think about that I really should have when Carter bought up this whole arrangement. Should I keep calling it that, an arrangement? Because it feels more like the beginning of a relationship. And Mase obviously knows that Carter has staked some kind of a claim on me, he groped my butt and referred to me as Carter’s girl.
I snicker as I round the corner and glance over my shoulder seeing Carter cocking a brow at the two girls currently telling him off. He doesn’t look happy, and that makes me happy for some weird reason. His clear discomfort is quite amusing, actually.
You have got to be fucking kidding me. Kimmy and Mandy, or whatever the hell their names are, think they have a say in my dating life. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn annoying. I glance up to see Chance making her escape with a smirk on her face, and I shake my head. She could have stuck around and helped ward the crazy bitches off.
Isn’t that what girlfriends are supposed to do? Maybe I shouldn’t have told her not to be all jealous and shit the other night? A jealous or possessive girlfriend might have come in handy right about now.
I raise a brow at the one with glassy eyes, ugh, don’t fucking cry. I hate it when they cry. “Look, it’s nothing personal, I just don’t like you, Teagan. We had a few good times together but that’s all it ever was. I made that pretty damn clear.”
The pending tears disappear, “Who the hell is Teagan?” she yells.
I frown, “Ah, you?”
Her face reddens and I take a step back, hoping she won’t, but knowing she will. Her tiny hand swings back before connecting with my cheek with a resounding slap. I’m pretty sure it hurt her hand more than my face, because she’s now clutching it to her chest as her tears from earlier spill over.
“Feel better?” I ask her, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She sniffles, then takes a step closer to me, seeking comfort. I don’t fucking think so. Holding my hands out in front of me, I ward her away when she tries wrapping her arms around me, “What are you doing?”
Biting on her bottom lip in an attempt to make me feel sorry for her, she reaches for me, “Why are you doing this?” she whines, “We’re good together, Carter.”
I close my eyes and drop my head back to the ceiling, “Give me strength,” I mutter to God or any deity who might be listening to my plea. Taking a deep breath, I look back down at the girl pretending I mean the world to her, which I know is total bullshit because she doesn’t even know me.
“Carter, please, give us a chance,” she sobs, stepping closer to me again.
Shaking my head at her, I wonder what the hell I was thinking fucking around with chicks like this. I mean, I don’t even remember this one’s name, that’s how memorable she is to me, yet she’s acting like we had an entire relationship and I’m breaking her heart.
Wrapping my fingers over her shoulders to keep her at arm’s length, I hunch down to look her in the eyes, “There is no us. There never was. There never will be. I made that clear from the start, you agreed. Now walk away,” I tell her, then pat her on the head and turn my back on her, walking away.
I hate this shit. Most of the chicks I’ve messed around with in the past are cool with the arrangement. But every now and then I misjudge my companion, and when things end, out come the water works and pleas for something more. Some are harder to shake than others, and from the outraged shriek that follows me down the hall, I get the feeling that she’s definitely one of those.
Dealing with her crazy arse at lunch has drained my tolerance levels drastically. I cannot deal with any more drama today, and apart from a few side eyes I get from Scout during English Lit, and the occasional scowl from random ballergirls, my afternoon classes are uneventful. Thank fuck.
Making my way to the locker room after being dismissed from my final class of the day, I catch sight of Chance on her way to the car park and jog to catch up with her, “Hey, traitor,” I call after her.
She glances over her shoulder when she hears me and slows her pace. When I catch up she smirks, her hand gently resting on her chest like a southern bell, “Who, me?” with false innocence, “Have fun with B1 and B2 today?” she laughs.
I narrow my eyes on her, “Yeah, thanks for running away like a little bitch,” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and match her slowed pace, then ask, “Who’s B1 and B2?”
She snickers, “I heard them having a whinge about you in the bathroom when I ducked in to pee, before I ran into your handsy friend. Anyway, it was easier to nickname them B1 and B2 than trying to remember their names. Bimbo one and Bimbo two, or B1 and B2, as I prefer.”
I smile down at her, “You’re so fucking weird. But I like it,” I tell her and drop a kiss to the top of her head, because I can’t not kiss her right now. She’s the most honest chick I’ve ever spent time with, except Bella, but I don’t think Bella even knows how to be anything but brutally truthful.
Chance grins back at me, “What can I say? It’s part of my natural born charm.”
Squeezing my arm a little tighter around her shoulder, I pull her further into me as we walk. When we reach her car, she stops and leans back against the side of it giving me the opportunity to look at her outfit of choice today. Unicorns, of course she likes unicorns. And I’m beginning to realise that she really is filterless, just like her shirt proclaims.
She looks down at herself then back to my face, “What?” she questions with an arched brow.
I step closer to her, closing the small amount of space between our bodies, and lean into her. My fingers glide over the soft skin of her cheek, to her plump lips, “I was just thinking that this shirt really suits you. But it would look even better on the floor.”
A soft chuckle leaves her lips, “Loser,” she mutters but her breathing quickens when I run the pad of my thumb across her bottom lip, dragging it down slightly before closing the last bit of space between our mouths and kissing her softly. I lick her lips in feather light sweeps of my tongue, savouring her taste for a moment then increasing the pressure, and she opens for me on a quiet, barely audible sigh.
Eventually, I break away from her captivating mouth, “I’ve been thinking about those lips all day,” I tell her, cupping her cheeks in my palms.
A shy smile lifts her lips, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these last couple of days. I don’t know why, but I can’t shake you, Carter.”
I grin, “Good, I don’t want you to.” I want to say more, but that’s when I hear Mase’s annoying voice booming from across the parking lot. I lift my head more and look over my shoulder to him.
He’s walking toward us, carrying my practice jersey and both our duffels, “Coach is going to chew your arse out if we’re late again, bro,” he throws my clothes at me when he’s close enough, “S’up C.C.,” he says, with a nod to Chance.
Chance eyes him cautiously, “That’s not my name,” she tells him and crosses her arms over her chest in a defensive move.
I chuckle under my breath and start changing my clothes, only glancing around the lot to check if anyone can see me when I start unfastening the belt around
my pants.
Chance coughs, “What are you doing?” she says to me, but refuses to look directly at me.
With a snort I roll my eyes, “Changing my clothes, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. Remember the shower you so rudely barged in on?” I say, waggling my brows.
A crimson blush spreads up her neck, engulfing her cheeks as she sputters, “What, I, that,” she releases a deep breath, blowing her fringe off her face, she finally manages to string three words together saying, “That was different,” she mutters from behind her hands, which are now covering her heated face.
I finish changing into my practice gear then step up to her again, pulling her hands away from her face, I kiss her still pink nose, “You busy tonight?” I ask.
She shakes her head, “No.”
“Good, I’ll swing by and pick you up when I finish at the gym. Text me your address and be ready by eight,” I tell her, pressing one last quick kiss to her lips, simply because I can’t help myself, then I hoof it to the field with Mase.
We make it to practice just in time, and Coach gives us both a disapproving stare but doesn’t say anything. Mase leans into me when Coach starts barking out the drills that we’ll be running today, and whispers, “So you and C.C. are a thing now, yeah?”
I glance at him, “Who the fuck is C.C.?”
Mase rolls his eyes at me, “Camera Chick.”
Raising my chin in understanding, I shrug, “I think so.”
He frowns, “You think so? You mean to say, you were contemplating beating my arse for touching her arse today and you only think you’re with her? Where’s the loyalty, man? I’ve been your bro since kindergarten. Are you trading me in for a chick?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, “No fuckwit, bros before hoes, always. But Chance, she’s not a hoe, in any way, shape, or form.”
Mase shakes his head, “So your saying, what, exactly?”
Before I can answer the over sensitive man child who’s apparently in possession of a set of ovaries, Coach approaches. He sizes us up as we stand in front of him, ready for whatever bullshit he’s got planned for us today.
