by Sotia Lazu
“What?”
“Unless you and Bill could come to the party with me. Please? I could totally be happier then.” She used the potent combo of puppy eyes and an exaggerated pout.
Krista shook her head. “You can forget about it. You don’t have to go either. Just because you told Nate—”
“Yes, because I told him. I don’t want him to think he was right.”
“But he was.” Krista put her book aside and crossed the room to Eliza. “This isn’t high school. You should be doing things for you. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
Eliza nodded. “You’re right.” Still, she ironed her favorite backless top. She’d go, and she’d look stunning. And she’d do that for herself.
* * * *
The party didn’t disappoint; it was as horrible as Eliza expected it to be.
Cal grabbed her arm the moment she walked in, and he wouldn’t let go until he introduced her to pretty much every single one of his friends.
“This is Eliza,” he’d say with a wink.
Every wink made her want to elbow him in the gut.
It was eleven, and Nate hadn’t shown up. Not that she was watching the front door, or that she cared at all, but his absence made her feel like an idiot for going. Once more she wondered why she bothered with what he thought. The little voice inside, the one she usually ignored, knew the answer—Nate was an ass, but his infuriating remarks were never wrong. If only he’d shared his insights in a less assholish manner, he’d have saved her loads of heartache.
She might like him then.
Well, he didn’t care about her liking him, and saving her heartache wasn’t among his priorities.
She sighed and focused on Cal, who’d finally let go of her arm.
“The guys have set up a little bet”—he winked again—“so I’ll leave you without the pleasure of my company for a while.”
“A bet?” How long did she zone out for?
“A drinking contest. Beer.” He smirked, and she was extremely annoyed that the first thought on her mind was how smirks looked much better on Nate.
Bad, bad way of thinking. Nothing looked good on Nate, because Nate wasn’t good looking. She’d have to keep reminding herself that. She assured Cal she’d manage to have some fun without him, and walked toward the far end of the living room, where a group of people played Spin the Bottle.
She didn’t know most of them, but two looked familiar. She did a double take, and yeah, she knew them. There, among those crazy kids, sat none other than the two strangers who’d been at The Zoo on the night of the kiss—the ones she’d nicknamed Flashy and Biker Wannabe.
Eliza flicked her gaze upward, silently thanking Whoever Held the Strings for one last chance to spot her mystery kisser. If he was one of those two, it was time to find out which. If not, she’d probably grow old nagging at anyone who’d listen about losing what could have been true love.
Oh well. If she tried hard enough, she might someday convince herself that she’d dreamed up that perfect kiss.
With her best flirty grin, she approached the circle. “Can I play?” Nobody seemed to mind—there were in fact some wolf whistles, which she attributed to her lucky, tiny top. Eliza strategically placed herself across from the two men, who sat side by side. With a little luck and a calculated twist, she might get either of them.
“New girl spins,” a geeky guy suggested.
Eliza smiled and gave it her best.
The bottle stopped in front of Biker Wannabe, who wasn’t very biker-y without his leather jacket. He blushed profusely, and perspiration shone on his forehead as he got on his hands and knees. Internally patting herself on the back, Eliza crawled forward and met him half way for her kiss.
Simply put, it was nothing to write home about. Little more than a friendly peck that caused no tingles whatsoever. Eh, it was probably the other guy. Typical of her luck that Mr. Right would be the last man she’d ever go for. She shuddered at the memory of the turquoise blazer. Maybe he’d tone down the flashiness for the right girl.
“This wasn’t a proper kiss. Spin again.” Geeky guy licked his lips. “Maybe you’ll get lucky this time.”
He was sitting at Flashy’s right, and Eliza didn’t feel like kissing him, so she decided not to rig the spin again. Instead, she placed her hand at the middle of the bottle and turned it with all the strength she could muster.
The bottle turned two, three… four… five times, and ended up pointing at a pair of boots that stomped their way into the circle.
“Well, look at that,” said the owner of the boots. “I guess you did get lucky.”
Eliza would honestly rather not look. She’d pluck her own eyes out, rather than see the man she was supposed to kiss. Could her night get any worse? “You’re not playing, Nate.” Yeah, okay, she looked.
“Says who? I want to play. You’ll like it.” He ran his tongue over his teeth in that infuriating way that never failed to make heat rise up Eliza’s cheeks.
“I’m not kissing you.” She sounded like a spoiled brat, but couldn’t care less.
“Come on, sunshine. I’ve brushed and flossed.”
People around them whistled and wooted, urging her not to break the rules of the game, and maybe that was a good thing. She could bite his tongue off and rid herself of his maddening commentary on her life.
With a sigh, she rose and took a step toward him. Her legs felt like jell-o.
Nate placed his large palm on her hip. “You’ll survive.” His body heat radiated through his T-shirt and her flimsy top. He smelled faintly of alcohol, but it was the opposite of off-putting. Maybe it mixed well with his cologne.
Nate tightened his grasp a fraction, and she let him pull her closer. He leaned down, and despite herself, Eliza closed her eyes and parted her lips.
The kiss never came.
Cold liquid splashed the side of her face and poured down her front, making her jump and open her eyes.
“You slut.” Cal’s eyes blazed with fury. He’d showered her with his beer.
Nate held up a hand. “Hey. No need for that. It’s just a game.”
“You stay out of this, asshole.” Cal grabbed Eliza by the upper arm and shook her. “You’re a cocktease.” His voice was loud enough everyone around heard him.
“Let go of me.” She pushed him back, but he wouldn’t let go.
“No. You came here for me, and instead I find you kissing every man you see. What’s next?” His eyes were red, bulging. “Rubbing against them? Screwing them? Whore.” He raised his palm, as if to slap her.
She’d heard enough. She balled her hand into a fist and aimed for his solar plexus. She wasn’t fast enough.
Nate punched Cal in the face.
Then, when Cal let go of Eliza and pinched his bleeding nose, Nate swiped Cal’s legs out from under him, sending him to land on his ass. “The lady said let go, you fucker.”
Stunned, Eliza turned to her unexpected savior in time to see Mike and Leo double-team him. Mike sucker-punched him from the side, the fraternity ring on his finger tearing a gash on Nate’s cheekbone. Nate swung at him, but Mike dodged it and then trapped Nate’s arms so Leo could punch him in the gut.
Nate doubled over, and the two bent down to help Cal, ignoring the gathering crowd that yelled for more.
Eliza was trying to make sense of what just happened, when Nate raised his bloodied face, and asked, “Are you all right?”
What the hell was wrong with this guy? His cheekbone was bleeding, he was holding his gut and wincing in pain, and he was asking if she was all right? Did he forget he hated her?
“I’m fine.” She pulled away when he reached for her shoulder. Blood trickled down to his cheek. She sighed and looped her arm around his waist, to help him straighten up. “What were you thinking? I—”
“I wasn’t,” he whispered.
“What?”
“I wasn’t thinking. I heard him talk to you like that, saw him grab you, and I thought I’d s
ave you.”
“For yourself? I didn’t need saving. I’ve handled worse.” She turned to Cal, who leaned dazedly against the wall. “Don’t call me. Ever.”
Mike and Leo held up their arms when she glared at them.
“He started it.” Leo pointed at Nate.
Eliza narrowed her eyes, and they moved aside for her to lead Nate out of there. The party seemed to have stopped, everyone watching the odd couple make their way to the exit.
She stopped him under the porchlight and studied his face. “I think that’s gonna need stitches.” She pointed at his cheek, but he shied away from her finger. It made her feel bad.
“Not necessary. I heal easy.” He dabbed at the blood with the hem of his shirt.
“I still think we should take you to the hospital.”
He snorted. “For a graze?” He shoved a hand into his jeans’ back pocket and came up with a crumpled packet of Marlboros and a Zippo.
“You smoke?” She didn’t know that about him. Or much of anything. They hadn’t done much socializing together, what with his insulting her and one of them leaving in a huff every time they happened to meet.
“Yes. I’m bad. Want to spank me and show me the error of my ways?” He leered, but the blood killed the effect.
She hit the cigarette out of his hand as he was raising it to his lips. “Not really. I want to punch you, as always.”
He didn’t try for a second cigarette. “Nice way of thanking me.” His resigned sigh bothered her, as did his behavior minutes earlier.
“Why did you do that, Nate? Why stand up for me?” She still didn’t get it. His reaction to Cal’s putting her down had been shocking, to say the least.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Felt like I had to.”
A breeze made Eliza’s skin erupt in little goose bumps. She rubbed her arms, all too aware of the chilly night air.
Nate crossed his arms. “You should go. You’ll catch your death in that skimpy excuse for a top. And your hair is wet.”
She shook off his words. “I’ll walk you to your car. Are you okay to drive?” Why did she care?
Right. She owed him.
“I’m not going home. Don’t want my dad seeing me like this.” He looked down.
She followed his gaze to the bloodstain he’d left on the hem. “Come.” She took a couple of steps before she realized he wasn’t following. “Well? You coming?”
“Where?”
“My room. You got messed up defending my honor.” She grabbed a fist-full of his short sleeve and pulled him after her. “I’m not sending you home until you’re cleaned up and in a fresh tee.”
He said nothing, letting her drag him along.
Chapter Ten
Last Year
“Please. Just one drink.”
Eliza pretended to read the book in her lap. “No. You go. I’m good.”
“You can’t stay in here forever.” Krista crouched down, to catch her gaze.
“Not forever. Only till I’m out of college and can move far far away.”
“It’s been weeks. You need to stop punishing yourself. And hon, you did nothing wrong.”
It was the millionth time they had this conversation, and Eliza knew how it’d go.
It wasn’t her fault.
Her only crime was falling in love with a narcissistic douche-nozzle.
Troy played a sick game, and Eliza was his latest victim.
But if Krista was right, why did it hurt Eliza to see the contempt in Troy’s eyes whenever their paths crossed? She’d done something to make him hate her. If she ran into him at The Zoo, he’d smirk and hurl something hurtful and demeaning her way, and she’d regret leaving the safety of her room.
Krista clasped her palms together, as if in prayer. “Do this for me. Please. One drink, and we’ll come straight back here. Unless you’re having a good time.”
It was tempting to have a reason to take a shower and put on makeup. She hadn’t done much of either since her dreams came crashing down around her.
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah. Okay. Gimme half an hour.”
It took a little longer, but by the time she was ready to go, she felt better than she had in a while. She and Krista got some heads turning when they arrived at The Zoo, and once she made sure Troy and his posse were nowhere around, she started to relax.
She was having a good time, dancing and semi-flirting with a cute med student she met, when Troy appeared out of nowhere. The guy disappeared under his glare, and Eliza backed away. She looked around frantically, but Krista was too far away to notice.
Troy cornered Eliza, and she was sure whatever he said this time would be the one thing that would break her. She’d collapse into a crying heap in front of him, and that was a humiliation she wouldn’t survive.
Her back hit the wall, and Troy planted his palms on either side of her head, trapping her. “You know, if you beg, I may let you have one more taste.” He probably thought his smile was seductive.
To her he looked like the bad wolf in every fairytale that couldn’t be swayed from getting its prey.
She shook her head, grasping for a brilliant retort—a few well-chosen words to make that smug smile disappear. Nothing came to her.
Nothing but Nate.
He wasn’t there to help her. If anything, he meant to cheer on his friend. He put a hand on Troy’s shoulder. “Why bother, big guy?” he asked in a bored tone. “She’s not innocent enough for you anymore. Shouldn’t you be moving on to your next victim?”
She thought Nate winked at her, but she couldn’t say for sure. His words were like a slap on the face that snapped her out of the fantasy that Troy might magically revert to the man she loved. Her head swam with the realization she wasn’t the one in the wrong. Krista was right; Troy was a bastard and would remain one forever. Eliza was just another notch in his belt.
She kneed Troy in the groin.
When he folded over, cupping his sore privates, she pushed him away and returned to the dance-floor.
Chapter Eleven
Eliza pushed her dorm room door open enough to stick her head in. “Krista? You here?”
No answer. Eliza tried again. Nada. She smiled to herself. Krista was spending the night with Bill. Good for them. “All’s clear.” She threw the door open the rest of the way and went straight for her closet. “Wash your face, while I find a shirt for you to wear. There’s alcohol under the sink.”
“A drink would be—”
She spun to face him, hands planted on her hips. “Not that kind of alcohol. The putting-on-wounds type.”
“I’m not dabbing alcohol that close to my eye.” But when she tapped her foot and arched an eyebrow, he peeled his shirt off and bunched it up. After a moment’s hesitation, he threw it on the floor, before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
He came back as Eliza was taking off her top. She had her back to the bathroom door, so he wouldn’t see anything. “No funny business, or I’ll have to kill you. New shirt’s on my desk chair.”
“I’m not dry yet. And I’m not looking. Although one has to wonder why you couldn’t wait until I was gone to do that, if you were so worried about your virtue.”
“If one hadn’t sprayed blood on my favorite shirt, one wouldn’t have to wonder that.” She leaned to the side for her pajama top that was stretched out on her bed. “Besides, we’re mutually-hating adults. Not like I have something to fear.” She was a liar. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt all kinds of stupid for not waiting until he left. His voice made her nipples hard. She shouldn’t have such reactions around the jerk, no matter that he behaved like a human being earlier.
“I don’t get why you sell yourself short the way you do. Why you go out with men like Troy. Like Mr. Muscle. I don’t even get why you put up with me. Why am I here? You’re above all this, Eliza.” His voice was even, if slightly choked.
She froze. He couldn’t have said what she heard. She tried hard to keep still,
not daring to break whatever spell made him sound like he didn’t despise her. She needed to hear what came next.
“I—you’re too good to be wasting yourself is all I’m saying.”
She didn’t know where his words came from, any more than why all she could think was that she owed him a kiss—if not for butting in to save her from the verbal abuse Cal subjected her to, then because they never got their turn during the game of Spin the Bottle.
She turned on her heel, pajama top secured in front of her breasts. He sat on her floor, shirtless, leaning his weight back on outstretched arms, his legs spread in front of him. His body was perfect, long and lean and sculpted with muscle, but it wasn’t his body she focused on. He kept his head down, as if it weighed him to be nice to her, and it made it mean more somehow that he chose to be nice despite it.
She knelt between his legs, and when he lifted his gaze to look at her questioningly, touched her lips to his.
She meant for it to be no more than a peck, but the moment he slipped his tongue between her lips, a familiar scent flooded her senses. His lips were soft. His stubble grazed her skin. His tongue drove her crazy.
She cupped the back of his head with one hand and dug the fingers of the other into his shoulder. Her top slid to the floor, forgotten, and Eliza gave in to the kiss the way she had that first time, mindlessly surrendering to sensation as Nate devoured almost all logic.
Almost.
If he was her mystery kisser, he had to have an agenda. He hated her for too long, to have jumped at the opportunity to kiss her.
She sat back on her heels, holding him at arm’s length, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “It was you. Why—”
Before she could finish asking what twisted game this was, Nate sprang to his feet, grabbed his shirt, and stormed out.
Eliza was too stunned to run after him and demand explanations. Nate was the man she’d built up so much in her fantasies. The same man who tortured her at every opportunity. Why would he…? Was she right the first time? Was it a bet? To what? See if she was desperate enough to reciprocate a stranger’s kiss? If it was, Nate won. Why didn’t he stick around and gloat?
