by Sotia Lazu
They’d had been dating for nine weeks, but Troy kept her at a distance emotionally. She supposed that was part of his charm. He was the tall, dark, and handsome type. The guy who didn’t need to talk much, but whose words carried substance when he did. Public displays of affection were out of the question, and she was fine with it. A couple years her senior, he said he was over the teenage-drama love scene, and she could do without it, herself.
They didn’t go out much; clubs were outside his comfort zone. They didn’t see each other all that often, to be honest. Eliza found it weird at first, but he explained that a personality like his felt repressed when he had to adhere to societal norms such as seeing his girlfriend every day or having to talk with her over the phone, so she stopped pressuring him. She was proud of how much she’d grown and overcome her insecurities since she started going out with him.
Being with Troy made her strive to be the best she could.
She straightened her skirt for the millionth time, and brought her compact out of her purse to make sure her lip gloss was as shiny as before she took a sip from her coke.
It was in the small round mirror that she first saw the man who’d be the bane of her existence for a long time to come.
He wore a white shirt and faded jeans, and he might as well be holding up a sign that read “DANGER.” It wasn’t his tussled hair and scuffed boots, or the Zippo he flicked, as much as his eyes. His gaze was intense, piercing, even under the poor lighting. A shiver ran down her spine when it met hers in the mirror. He smirked, and Eliza held her breath, instinctively knowing it would be perilous to smile back.
She put the compact back in her purse and tried to concentrate on her drink, but her thoughts returned to the guy. She couldn’t say why. It wasn’t like he was her type. He wasn’t tall or buff enough. Or handsome.
Well… maybe he was handsome, if you went for the bad-boy type. Where Troy emanated calm power, this guy seemed like a bundle of nerves. On edge. Someone she’d never feel safe around. Not that she’d want to be around him or think of him any longer. She’d only seen him for a split second, for crying out loud.
Someone pulled out the seat across the table from her, and she found herself looking at a white-clad chest. She raised her gaze to see what she knew she would—the smirk and green eyes that had unsettled her so.
She gulped but managed to force a smile. “That seat is taken.”
“It is now. By me.” His voice, rough and velvety at the same time, it felt like a caress.
She scoffed anyway. “No. By my boyfriend, who’ll be here any minute now.”
“Sucks to be him. I’m not going anywhere unless you have a drink with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her challengingly.
She shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s your butt on the line.”
He tapped his fingers on the table. Eliza liked men who took care of their hands, but the ink smudges on his index finger and his short, ragged nails fit his image. “I don’t think my butt is in any danger,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Yours might be, if we hit it off and you asked nicely. For now, I’ll settle for that drink.”
She flinched, disturbed at how his voice and words made her body react. Her skin flushed and her temperature rose, and not in an unpleasant way. It took a heavy kissing session with Troy to achieve that result.
“Not in this lifetime. Now leave me alone.” She was relieved her voice didn’t shake.
“Or what?” He uttered the words slowly, his tone and the quirk of his lips turning the straightforward question into a dirty suggestion.
Despite his persistence, nothing about him made her feel physically threatened. He didn’t crowd her, and while lewd, his pickup routine wasn’t intimidating. It might be the laugh dancing in his eyes.
Holding his gaze, she tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean or what? I told you—my boyfriend will beat you senseless if you don’t stop harassing me.”
He clenched his jaw. Relaxed it. Clenched again. “Not that I wouldn’t like to see him try, Eliza, but your precious Troy isn’t coming. He’ll call you when he’s home tonight.”
It took a few moments for his words to sink in, but he was out of his seat before she could ask how he knew her or Troy. She followed him to the bar. “How… Who are you?”
“Nate.” He sounded bored. “Troy knew I’d be here, and asked me to let you know he wouldn’t make it.” He whispered something to the buxom blonde sitting to his left, obviously done with the conversation.
Eliza wouldn’t leave the matter alone. “If Troy sent you, why were you such a jerk to me?”
He looked at her over his shoulder, one hand planted higher up the other blonde’s thigh than propriety allowed. “I felt like it. Wanted you to know you have options. I know the kind of girl your boyfriend goes for.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Personally, I like my ladies more experienced.”
The woman next to him let out a throaty laugh. She covered his hand with hers and pulled it higher still.
Eliza felt the blood drain from her head. Troy wouldn’t have told this guy something so personal. “Did he—”
“Tell me you’re a virgin? He didn’t have to. I can smell it all over you. You better get going. Now.” He turned away, but not before she saw his eyes darken with something like anger.
Why the hell was he angry? He’d hurt and insulted her, and he didn’t even know her. “You’re a pig,” she said. Yes, it was a lame insult, but she was too shaken up to bother finding a better one.
“And yet I’m your boyfriend’s best buddy. Doesn’t that make you wonder what he’s really like?” He caught her eye before facing the other way again. His expression held no hostility, but it didn’t make her feel better.
Eliza turned on her heel and left, but not before seeing him stick his tongue down the other blonde’s throat.
She’d never admit it out loud, but Nate was the reason she slept with Troy a week later.
Chapter Three
Alan drove Eliza back to campus and walked her to her dorm. Unlike when he picked her up, his touch on the small of her back caused no tingles. She was ready for this date to be over.
“Thank you for the lovely evening,” she said.
“It doesn’t have to end yet.”
It so did. And it would, as soon as she let herself in. Her keycard evaded her fingers, as she plundered through her clutch bag. He obviously thought she was giving him some sort of signal, because the moment she found it and turned to say goodnight, he leaned in.
However much she hoped for it early in the evening, there was no way she’d accept a kiss from him now. She turned her face to the side, offering her cheek. Then she slid her card down the slot and entered her dorm.
She took the steps up two at a time. She’d texted Krista from the car, to make sure she was awake. Her best friend’s help would be essential to finding her mystery-man.
Krista took the news as expected.
She bounced and squealed, in as good a cheerleader impersonation as possible. A nasty fall from the bed didn’t deter her. She jumped on her feet and resumed her bouncing around the room. “Long-ass draught is finally over,” she chanted.
“Will you stop that? Stand still for a minute. You’ll hurt yourself.” Eliza couldn’t bite back a giggle. “Long-ass draught isn’t over. It was just a kiss.”
“Just a kiss? You said it rocked your world.”
“It was pretty world rocking, but it was no love declaration. I don’t know why the guy did it.”
“Ummm… because he wanted to kiss you?” Krista looked at her like she was an idiot. At least she’d stopped moving. “You have a secret admirer.”
The possibility made Eliza giddy, but— “You don’t know that. He might have acted on a dare.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Krista’s tone was serious, but the humongous grin on her lips seemed about to split her freckled face in two. “Was your childhood traumatic, Ms. Green? Lie down and tell me everything,�
�� she said in a pompous accent. Nodding to herself, she mimicked taking notes on her open palm with an invisible pen. “So you believe there was a dare for someone to kiss you if the two of you were ever in the same room and electricity happened to need a time-out? I see why that would make sense.”
Eliza rolled her eyes. “No, Krista, but killing the lights could be part of the dare.”
“And maybe someone bought the bar so they’d turn the lights on and off for people to kiss you. I mean that’s more likely than someone secretly having the hots for you.” She brushed a red lock of hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear.
Eliza tried to glare, but she couldn’t keep a hopeful smile from blossoming on her own lips. “So you think I have an admirer?”
“Yes.” Krista sounded exasperated. “And it’s so cool. We can… Do you think we can get a DNA swab? Like a saliva sample? My uncle Aaron could run tests, and—”
Eliza arched an eyebrow.
“That’s a no?” Krista asked, crestfallen.
“That’s a no.” Eliza loved her friend’s analytical nature and the way she lit up when she came up with solutions to problems, but this wasn’t a problem. What happened happened. That kiss was good, and now it was over.
“Eureka.” Krista’s dark eyes sparkled.
“I-what-a?”
“Not you, eu. Never mind.” Krista waved her hand. “I have a plan.”
Eliza scooched back on the bed until her ass hit the headboard, and she crossed her legs Yoga style. She placed her hands on her ankles, arched her back, rolled her head, and cracked her knuckles. “Shoot.”
“Simple. We make a list of suspects, and you go out with all of them.”
“Hmmm… As far as plans go, this one is rather easy,” Eliza said. “The list of suspects exists. But there are a couple of hitches to your plan.” Her friend’s face fell, and Eliza hastened to say, “Your otherwise brilliant plan.”
Smiling again, Krista motioned with both hands for Eliza to go on. Her excitement was palpable.
“One, I can’t start asking men out, and two” —Eliza made a moue of distaste—“I’ll have to kiss them all, to know who’s the one.”
“You always have to kiss a guy before you know if he’s the one.”
Eliza couldn’t disagree with that. She grabbed one of her notebooks and jotted down the names of the possible kissers. “Okay. So how do I go about it?”
Krista took the list and looked at the candidates. “Let’s start with the ones we know. I can ask Bill out for you. You figure out which of the frat guys could be Prince Charming.”
* * * *
Nate felt like an idiot for sneaking out his window for a smoke at his age. His dad wouldn’t condone smoking under his roof, however, and Nate needed his nicotine.
And some sleep.
He lit the cigarette, took a deep drag, and held the smoke in his lungs long enough to feel light headed.
Exhaling slowly, he told himself he wasn’t screwed.
His self didn’t agree.
Nate didn’t know why the hell he talked to Troy, let alone why he helped the big lug do his dirty work. Except that was the way it had always been, since the first year of junior high.
Nate was Nathaniel back then, a sniveling little boy with glasses and a lisp that denoted him as an outsider. Troy beat up the bully who’d pressed Nathaniel’s face into the mud during lunch break, and Nathaniel attached himself to the bigger boy’s posse, through the years winning his current place as Troy’s best friend.
Only, at times like this evening, he wasn’t sure he wanted his hard-won position any longer. If only he thought of that before he let Troy talk him into attending Sweetapple Bay college, instead of going with one of his more alluring options…
But then he wouldn’t have met Eliza.
He thought back to that day, last year, when he made her hate him. The petite blonde sat with her back to him, but he knew it was her. She caught his eye while he was outside the coffee shop having a smoke. He noticed everything about her, from the arch of her eyebrow to the cute pink nail polish on her toes.
He smiled at the memory of her squirming. The way she obviously tried to look perfect had been endearing. Then he remembered whom she’d been trying to look perfect for, and the smile froze on his lips.
Troy had pointed her out to him once from afar, and Nate had been gob-smacked. She was far from the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—or touched or slept with—but she radiated something so pure, so real that he felt instantly drawn to her. Then Troy told him she was the plat du jour, or rather of the month, and Nate decided to forget he ever saw her.
Until that evening, when Troy asked Nate to give Eliza a message, thus throwing him headfirst into the worst dilemma of his life.
Nate had known how Troy treated girls, and to his shame, never did anything to discourage it, though he didn’t like it. Sometimes he’d make sure his friend’s overlapping dates weren’t discovered. He’d tell himself it served the women right if they fell for the bullshit Troy fed them to get them into bed.
That should have been the case with Eliza too. Troy had asked him—not that there had been a question or a please involved—to tell Eliza he wouldn’t make it to their date, as the girl didn’t answer her cell phone. Nate was also privy to the real reason why Troy would be a no-show. The jerk was meeting Suzie—petite, brunette, and expected to put out within the next couple of hours.
Nate grimaced.
Whether his distaste was for Suzie, who’d been so desperate to have her cherry popped she’d told Troy she only wanted him for the night; for Troy, whose insecurities meant he only got his jollies by hurting others; or for himself for being stupidly loyal to him, it was what had helped Nate make his mind up.
He wouldn’t have felt right betraying Troy by outright warning the girl, so he’d make her more wary of the next time she saw her boyfriend. That might save her the heartache she was rapidly headed for.
He’d been surprised when he caught himself flirting with her. She hadn’t gone for it. Not that he’d expected her to; he was sure she was the loyal kind. And it wasn’t like he’d flirt with her for real. Hitting on a friend’s girl was unthinkable, no matter how disposable that friend considered her.
Hearing Eliza talk about Troy as if he were the salt of the earth had enraged Nate. He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and yell that her boyfriend was an asshole who wouldn’t know a good thing if it hit him between the eyes. She was worth so much more than a serial user and abandoner. She deserved… him.
Scare her away from Troy—that had been the plan. And what better way to do so, than by showing her what a jerk her Troy hung out with?
When Troy had called him at two in the morning a week later, to tell him he’d gotten into her virginal panties, Nate punched a wall so hard, he fractured two knuckles.
The next time Nate saw Eliza, she was fighting back tears at the way the man she loved made fun of her for gifting him with something Nate would have held precious—her heart.
Nate’s reaction seemed extremely stupid in retrospect, but at the time, the only thing he felt he could do was make her hate him more. In his warped reasoning, if he was the one insulting her, she’d focus on despising him instead of on Troy’s betrayal and how it hurt her.
It hadn’t worked quite as planned, so he’d eventually resorted to other… measures, but he secretly still reveled in the memory of the exact moment she got over Troy.
That kick in the balls was a sight he’d never forget.
And now he had a new memory of Eliza to make him smile.
Her lips tasted like cherries.
He wished he was kissing her now, feeling her latch on to him like on life itself, instead of sucking on his cancer stick.
He took a last drag, flicked it on the driveway below, and climbed back into his room.
He was fucked, all right.
Chapter Four
Eliza held her tray and looked around, pretending not to no
tice all the empty tables in the cafeteria. She had a goal in mind, and it was fast approaching in the guise of an athletic trio. She took a moment to indulge in the sight. All three guys were tall and wide shouldered, their T-shirts stretched over sculpted pecs and abs.
She gave them a little wave and got three matching nods in response. She lingered by the water cooler a moment longer, waiting for them to gravitate toward their usual table.
When they were seated, she took a deep breath.
Okay, this was it.
She approached them and narrowed her eyes in practiced speculation. “Hey. You’re in my psych class, right? I missed this morning’s lecture, and I was wondering if I could copy your notes?”
“Sure.” The teaching assistant held out his notebook. He had a wide, generous mouth, and his smile reached his baby-blue eyes. His straw-colored hair completed his Captain America look, and Eliza licked her lips as she took in his big palms and long fingers.
“Actually”—she indicated her lunch tray with a tilt of her head—“mind if I join you?”
The guy to her left slid one chair over. “Make yourself at home. I’m Leo.”
She sat and took his proffered hand. “Eliza.” She liked his handshake. She liked all of him, really. His skin was the color of dark chocolate, and he had the biggest, darkest eyes she’d ever seen. He winked. It made her cheeks burn.
“Michel.” This one sat across the table from her and offered a two-finger salute. His wavy brown hair was combed back from an earnest, tan face, and his eyes were a pale blue.
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled and turned to the TA. “I feel like I should know your name, but…”
“Cal.” He nodded eagerly. His palm was sweaty, and Eliza wanted to wipe her hand on her jeans. She didn’t. Other than his sweaty palm, he wasn’t half bad. She liked his square jaw and deep voice.
“So, where are you all from?” She twirled the end of her ponytail between two fingers. If she kept them chatting, they might forget she was supposed to be copying their notes.
