Dirty Jock

by Sienna Valentine

  “Morning,” I replied.

  The car rolled up in front of us and we climbed in, giving the driver our address. I watched the mansion disappear behind me, covered up by the trees and distance.

  “I can’t believe you slept with Oliver,” she breathed. “This is so exciting!”

  “Very.” I returned a tight-lipped smile, anxious to change the subject. “And what about you and Damien? Let’s not forget that.”

  Cress normally would have noticed my mood, but she was on another planet. “Hon, I cannot describe to you how much fun I had last night.” She was practically gushing. “Damien… Oh my god, girl. He’s like on another planet of awesome.”

  I wanted to cry.

  I was happy for her, but at the same time, my happiness was overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of dread. Had I made an even bigger mistake by sleeping with Oliver than if I’d just left last night as I meant to?

  True, he hadn’t shown any sign this morning that he was going to brush me off again, but why wouldn’t he? He basically avoided me most of last night until he was practically forced to help me find Cressida. What if he was just horny and I’d been the only one left hanging around?

  A lot of women…

  “I think I’m going to make myself a big bowl of oatmeal and hit the couch,” Cressida prattled on. “Maybe I’ll turn on some Gilmore Girls. Wanna join me?”

  “I still don’t understand why oatmeal is your celebration food.”

  “It warms you from the inside out,” she sniffed. “And anyway, it’s sustaining.”

  I sighed and leaned my forehead against the cold window, feeling my energy drain away. Cressida was going to have a great day, and probably a great week. Who knew? A great life, too, most likely. Because based on what I’d heard from Oliver, Damien had been thinking about her just as long as she’d been thinking about him.

  It was a love story written for the ages.

  My friend finally noticed my mood. “What crawled up your ass and died?” she inquired.

  I snorted and rolled my neck to look over at her. “I’m just not really sure that I made the right choice with Oliver,” I said. “I think I’ve made it worse.”

  “Made what worse? He seemed really sweet last night.”

  “Exactly.” I pulled my feet up onto the seat in a completely unladylike manner. “The only way he can go now is down.”

  Cress rolled her eyes. “You’re overthinking this,” she said, patting my leg. “And you definitely haven’t made it worse.”

  “How do you know?”

  She gave me a knowing smile. “You’re up and walking around, aren’t you?”

  “I couldn’t very well go full burrito at his house,” I argued. “That would just be weird.”

  “And I won’t let you go full burrito at home, either,” she said. “You and I are—hang on!” She rifled through her bag and brought out her phone, which displayed that she had a new message from Damien. “Give me a sec.”

  “Supportive as ever,” I remarked.

  She ribbed me with her elbow, knowing full well that I was nearly just as excited about the Damien business as she was. I was happy for Cressida, truly. And I knew once I’d gotten out of this funk we’d be celebrating up a storm. Maybe I’d even have some oatmeal.

  But until then, I was more than a little bit jealous. Not at their relationship, but how easily my friend was always able to go with the flow. She didn’t let little things like someone’s sexual history bother her.

  So why did I? It made no sense. Oliver and I both had lives before meeting each other and we owed each other no explanations for that. It was stupid to let my insecurities send me running out of his house this morning.

  A lot of women…

  Nevertheless, I knew it would take a while before those words would stop echoing around in my head. Once they did, though, I resolved not to let them affect whatever next happened between Oliver and I.

  Chapter 32

  Oliver

  I went down to the beach house with the explicit intention of yanking Damien out of bed by force if need be, but Damien wasn’t in bed. He wasn’t in the pool house at all. I finally found him in the kitchen back at the main house, newspaper and coffee in hand.

  “Sometimes I wonder if there’s more than one of you,” I observed, pouring myself a cup.

  He looked up at me questioningly. I pointed to his reading material. “Stocks, Damien? You’re approaching stocks with a hangover?”

  He chuckled, going back to reading. “I’m not hungover.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You and Cressida looked wasted last night.”

  He sipped at his coffee elegantly. “Believe it. Cress and I were barely even tipsy.”

  I yanked open the fridge door and began to search through the leftovers from last night’s finger foods to see if there was anything breakfast-y. The most I could come up with was a pile of chocolate covered strawberries, which I placed onto the island between us.

  “You were swimming in my pool in your pants,” I commented, taking a bite out of a berry. “By my calculations, you would need to have consumed at least two bottles of wine by yourself to be open to such a thing.”

  My friend took another sip of his coffee and flipped the newspaper over. “Your formulas may need a few adjustments when Cressida’s around,” he replied.

  I raised an eyebrow and snagged another berry off the plate. “You’re telling me you ruined a pair of Armani pants while stone cold sober, just because a girl goaded you into it?”

  “I took my shirt off, didn’t I?” he replied. “And anyway, I never said I was sober. Just not quite drunk, either. And she didn’t goad me. It wasn’t an Icelandic Saga.”

  “Ah, there’s the Damien I know and love,” I smiled.

  He picked up a strawberry and threw it at my face. It bounced off and down into my coffee, sending a splash of black liquid all over the island.

  “Swish,” he said, not even bothering to look up from his paper.

  I sighed and reached for the paper towel behind me, mopping up the mess. Damien was clearly quite into whatever article he was reading.

  And it bothered the hell out of me.

  “Aren’t you going to ask about what happened with Elizabeth?”

  He shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to.”

  I sighed in frustration. “Okay. Grab your shit. We’re getting out of here.”

  Damien looked up, alarm written on his features. “And going where, exactly?”

  “Anywhere but here.” I looked around me at the walls, the floors, the furniture. Everything reminded me of her. And I still didn’t have a clue what the hell I was doing. Last night was probably a big mistake, but a wonderful one that I was pretty sure I would make again at the first opportunity.

  Damien reluctantly folded his newspaper and dropped it down on the counter. “Fine,” he said. “But we’re not going on your boat. You know how much I hate it.”

  Damien thrust his phone into the air again, staring balefully at the screen. “I hate this,” he muttered. He turned just in time to catch the beer I tossed from the cooler.

  “This is good for you,” I insisted. “No signal, no responsibilities.”

  I couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses, but I knew he was glaring at me. Regardless, he sat opposite and cracked open his beer.

  “Just promise if I get seasick you won’t tell me to suck it up,” he muttered.

  “You have my guarantee.” I thrust my can out toward him in a kind of salute. He returned it half-heartedly.

  The salty air stung my nose with each refreshing breath. Overhead, seagulls screeched and dove toward the choppy waves. It was heaven.

  But not for everyone. “The thing about the ocean,” Damien began, “is that nobody really understands any of it. It’s too deep and vast for us to know what goes on most of the time.”

  “I’m sorry that it’s not as friendly as my pool. But we’re out here for a reason.”r />
  He looked at me for a moment before his expression changed, as he finally caught up. “Shit. I’m sorry man. This is about Elizabeth, isn’t it? How did things go?”

  I took a swig of my beer, as if in no hurry to finally talk about it. “By all accounts, things went amazingly.”

  “But?”

  “You know what the but is,” I said. “I was hoping the reality wouldn’t live up to the fantasy, but it did and then some.”

  “She’s a nice girl,” Damien agreed. “She’s got nice friends.”

  “She’s a risk. More than a risk. She’s danger and disaster personified.”

  Damien turned his attention to the coast, where the windows of the houses winked back at us in the sunlight. He pressed his lips together in thought.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling.”

  Damien’s gaze returned to me. “Tough shit,” he said. “You’ve been a goddamn mess since you finished going through those contracts. It’s time to face it.”

  I studied him, wondering if it would be easier just to toss him off the boat and head back to shore without him. I thought I wanted to talk about this, but I didn’t like where the conversation was heading. I decided to try an evasive maneuver by changing the subject.

  “Apparently Cressida talked about you to Liz,” I said nonchalantly.

  “Nice try. Talk.”

  I scowled, taking another drink. “I’m pissed off, okay?” I tossed the empty can toward the bin in the corner. “If I don’t play by the rules, I’ve got nothing.”

  “But how do you feel about Elizabeth?”

  Even as pissed as I was, I couldn’t help but smile when I thought about her. “How do you think I feel? She’s amazing.” I shrugged. “But would it ever work? Could we have a future together? I don’t know.”

  “It’s fair for you to be scared,” Damien posited. “But I think you’re getting too far ahead of yourself.”

  “How so?”

  He grinned. “What would you do next if you didn’t have to worry about any repercussions?”

  I thought on it a moment. “I guess I’d probably take her on a date.”

  He leaned forward, chuckling. “Then take her on a date, you idiot. I go on dates all the time that don’t end up at the end of an aisle.”

  He had a point. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. Maybe I was planning too many moves ahead for my own good.

  “Solving my problems doesn’t mean you get to go home.”

  Damien tipped his face to the sky and groaned. “What the hell did you bring me out here for, then?”

  “Cause it’s the first time we’ve hung out in forever that you haven’t had your phone surgically attached to your face,” I replied. “Now grab your fishing pole and get ready to have some fun.”

  “This is so undignified,” he commented. “I can’t believe we’re fishing like common rednecks off a multimillion-dollar yacht.”

  I ignored him, heading into the kitchen to grab the plate of food I’d arranged to have put on board. It wasn’t even the afternoon and I was already feeling better about the prospects of things with Elizabeth.

  One date. As Damien said, one date didn’t necessarily lead to anything more.

  What’s the worst that could happen?

  I chose not to think about the answer.

  Chapter 33

  Elizabeth

  “I have nothing to wear!” I cried. “Cressida! Save me!”

  I collapsed to the floor in my room, surrounded by all my outfit rejects. At this rate, I’d have to go nude. I was sure Oliver wouldn’t mind, but depending on where he was taking me, it might not be appropriate.

  My roommate appeared at my doorway, leaning against it with a sarcastic grin. “Should I call and cancel the date for you?”

  “No,” I groaned. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Oh ye of little faith,” she said, kicking through the debris to place a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve got another hour before he gets here. Maybe you should have a glass of wine and see how you feel after.”

  Unsurprisingly, this sounded like a brilliant plan.

  Cress helped me to stand and directed me to our kitchen table. “You shouldn’t be this nervous,” she pointed out, pouring me a glass of white. “You only just saw him yesterday.”

  “I know,” I admitted. “And he’s seen me with paint on my face before… I’m just not used to thinking about how I look around him.”

  “I think we both know that’s not true.”

  “Okay fine,” I admitted, taking the proffered glass of wine. “I always thought about what I looked like. But that was different. I didn’t think he was paying attention, then.”

  Cressida sat opposite to me, for once not imbibing in her own sympathetic drink. She must have still been riding the high of her night with Damien.

  “Just remember that he already thinks you’re beautiful. And he would still think that if you went dressed as you are now.”

  I glanced down at my sweatpants and tank top with a frown. “I guess so.” It only took me a few more healthy swallows before I’d finally calmed down. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal for Oliver to see me in one of my less than glamorous outfits.

  Then a knock on the door nearly caused me to jump out of my skin.

  “Holy shit!” I cried. “He’s early!” I scrambled out of the chair and flew back to my bedroom, frantically searching for an outfit. Any outfit!

  So much for calming down.

  I heard Cressida answer the door, and then footsteps approached my room.

  Oh no, oh no, oh no!

  I had a denim skirt halfway up my legs over top of my sweatpants when Cress walked into my room. I meant to keep dressing, but was distracted by the long, rectangular box she held in her hands.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “I dunno.” She smiled in a way that told me she knew exactly what it was. “A delivery guy just dropped it off. He said it was for you.”

  I waddled over to her to take it, the skirt sliding downward until it finally dropped to my feet. As soon as I put it down on my bed I opened it.

  Impatiently shoving aside tissue paper, I gasped when it revealed a beautiful, emerald green dress.

  “Oh my god!” I exclaimed, pulling out the garment. It was knee length and made of a soft, shimmering fabric. The sweetheart neckline and front beading gave it just enough dazzle to excite.

  “That’s beautiful,” Cress cooed. “Try it on!”

  “What if it doesn’t fit?”

  “I have it on good authority that it will.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”

  She put up her hands in mock surrender. “Can’t a girl give her best friend’s dress size to the guy she went midnight swimming with without bringing down the Spanish Inquisition?”

  I shook my head, chuckling to myself. Of course. She always had my back. Why did I ever both to doubt her?

  The dress slid over my skin like a caress, a perfect fit. I searched around the box for a note, but there wasn’t one. And there weren’t any tags on the dress, either.

  “I feel like this is too expensive for me to wear,” I muttered as I admired myself in the mirror.

  Cressida came to stand beside me. “I feel like you’re overthinking it.”

  “What if I spill mayonnaise or something on it?” I asked.

  “Mayonnaise?”

  “I don’t know what we’re doing on our date!” I defended. “What if he takes me out for French fries.”

  “You are such a nut bar,” she said lovingly. “Now for the love of god, go get ready for your date and stop acting crazy.”

  Easier said than done.

  Oliver picked me up not a minute later or earlier than he said he would. I’d spent the last hour fussing over everything and still didn’t think I was ready. My makeup wasn’t quite right, my hair had flyaways, and I had probably missed a spot when I was shaving
my legs. And who knew what other beauty disasters I may have missed?

  Cressida answered the door like she was my parent and Oliver was picking me up for prom. “Well don’t you look sharp,” she smiled, gesturing for him to enter.

  Only my best friend would condescend a billionaire.