by Linda Kage
I slumped back into doldrums land.
A second later, my phone buzzed with a text.
Still need some space to cool off.
Groaning, I typed back: These pesky horny guy urges are beginning to annoy me. See, told you I was going to steal that phrase.
Well they might go away faster if you stopped being so...you.
That did it. I was crazy about this guy. He could've told me to stop licking my lips, or tossing my hair, or wearing revealing clothes, or simply to stop being so hot. But he went after my personality. How was a girl supposed to resist that?
Too pleased not to turn playful, I set my phone on video mode and clicked record when I saw my own face reflected on the screen.
“Would you rather I be Eva instead?” I asked the phone aloud. Giving the best impersonation of my cousin as I could manage, I mimicked, “Good morning, Mason. Looking good today. What say we skip classes and have some...fun.” Then I toyed with the collar of my blouse and let the camera see me undo one button before I focused it on my face again and winked.
A minute after sending that bad boy off, he returned with: Need more cleavage please.
The ‘please’ part made me throw my head back and shout out a laugh. I typed, Perv, and almost as soon as I hit send, a text came back to me.
See, your laugh is exactly what's keeping me away, woman. I just want to kiss those lips and hoard that sound all to myself.
My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly the amount he’d told me he charged his customers seemed like a mere pittance. If he talked like that when he was on the clock, no wonder why he had such a lucrative business going. Damn it.
My throat was a little constricted and it was hard for me to draw in air because I felt so full of emotion. It took me a moment to realize he’d just admitted he’d seen me laugh.
Face zipping up, I glanced around, shocked to learn he was nearby.
Are you stalking me?
I'm sitting on the bench by the eagle statue. I thought you saw me.
When I looked, he lifted his hand. Rolling my eyes, I typed him a new message. Mason, you goober, just come sit by me already.
From where I sat, I saw him shake his head. Not yet. I need to get to class anyway.
As he gathered his bag and stood, I sniffed. I’d eaten lunch with him enough to know he didn’t have class for another half hour. But if he wanted to keep dodging me…
Before you go, just one thing. I know I tease you A LOT about your “urges,” but I am glad you told me about them so I understand. Thank you for that.
He was almost to the entrance of the main building when he paused and dug his phone out of his pocket. I watched his back and the way his dark head bent as he read what I’d written. When he was finished, he looked back at me.
I returned the stare, waiting. But he rotated away and entered the college. A disappointed hiss of air leaked from my lungs. God, I was so pathetic, crushing on a freaking gigolo and then flirting with him mercilessly.
I mean, how much more forbidden could a guy get? I could tell myself a million times over that I just wanted to be his friend, but that would be a lie…a million times over.
Thirty seconds later, my phone dinged, and it was scary how happy that made me.
Are we getting serious now?
I sighed and idly fiddled with my nose ring, because I still hadn’t gotten used to it being there, and typed back: Apparently.
I really needed to get over this guy and move on. But then he wrote: In that case, thanks for staying my friend even though I want to jump your bones.
Amusement and tenderness fizzled inside me. I think a part of my personality was beginning to rub off on him. He could be sweet, charming, flirty, and kind of crude all in the same breath.
A man after my own heart.
The feeling is mutual, you know, I felt compelled to tell him. Girls get urges too.
He'd be out of a job of they didn't.
A second later, my phone buzzed. You probably shouldn't have told me that. Now I'm going to have to stay away longer.
With a frown, I responded: Hey I can control MY urges, thank you very much.
With you, I'm not so sure I can control mine. You're getting hard to resist.
I couldn’t help it; I had to tease: Don't say hard. You just sent my mind straight to dirty girl land.
Now who's the perv?
I'll accept that award. Want to hear my thank-you speech?
No time. I really do need to go. Flirt with you later.
Buzzkill.
He honestly must’ve had somewhere to be, because he never did reply. Our conversation left me in a strange mix of moods for the rest of the day. Whenever I’d remember something he had typed, I’d grin and feel lighthearted. A few times, I even pulled out my phone to reread some of his messages. I just want to kiss those lips and hoard that sound all to myself was my all-time favorite.
I wanted to hoard him all to myself too. It wasn’t fair that a bunch of strangers who knew nothing about him got to be with him in ways I never would. And...then I was reminded all over again why we could only flirt through texts, and my emotions would plummet. I wanted him to plop down on the bench across from me at our lunch table and steal some of my food.
I wanted Mason back.
~$~
On Thursday afternoon, I was doing some homework outside in the courtyard while I waited for my time to clock in at the library. Dr. Janison, who’d yet to flunk me, had assigned my class Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales…in Middle English.
Yeah, I know. Middle English.
I was trying to decipher the Wife of Bath’s Tale as I sat in the midday sunlight, soaking up some warm Florida rays, when I came to the line “By verray force, he rafte hire maydenhed.”
Huh? Okay, pretty much every line of the epic poem left me with a great big huh? And this one was no different. Pulling up my handy dandy translation book I’d bought last week, I found the corresponding line.
When I realized it said something along the lines of “he took her maidenhead by force,” I jerked back in surprise. What the heck was Dr. Janison making us read? A heroic knight raping a virgin was not my idea of classic literature.
But it did grasp my attention a little more firmly. I was busy deciphering and reading about how Queen Guinevere convinced her sweet hubby, Arthur, to leave the rapist’s punishment up to her—yeah, you go, girl; hang that bastard by the balls—when a commotion across the lawn caught my attention.
A group of guys had been playing around the entire time I’d been sitting at my table, attempting to jump from one bronzed statue to the next. But no one had yet succeeded in making it from the charging bull with a ring in its nose to the oversized eagle spreading its wings.
By the cheers that rose, I gathered they had a new champion.
When I looked over, Mason, of all people, stood on top of the eagle’s back, his arms spread almost as wide as the wings fanning underneath him as he shouted out his triumph.
I rolled my eyes but had to smile. As if feeling my gaze on him, he turned in the direction of our table and gave me the thumbs-up sign. I returned it, congratulating him, and he blew me a kiss before a group of guys caught him by the legs and began to carry him around in some kind of whacked-out victory parade.
Apparently, the male portion of the world thought he could do no wrong.
Laughing softly, I checked the screen of my cell phone for the time. Realizing I needed to get to work, I closed Chaucer and packed away my homework.
After clocking in, I chatted a minute with the head librarian and his two assistants, who were the only full-time staff in the library. Then I got started reading call numbers.
I know, it was sooo exciting, but I wanted a little peace and quiet today, so I didn’t mind the boring task. I headed upstairs to a small section above the offices, where only reference books were kept. No one ever, ever came up here, so I knew I wouldn’t be bothered.
Strangely enough, though, I was halfw
ay through the first shelf when I heard footsteps. Someone settled onto one of the three pieces of furniture clumped by the stairs, and my curiosity got the best of me. I squinted through the bookshelves, only to catch sight of Mason.
Mason?
Pressure built behind my ribcage. Anticipation and hope. Did he know I was up here? Had he come to see me? Did this mean we were still friends—friends who actually spoke face to face?
Appearing as if he had no idea I was near, he stretched out on an avocado green couch. After propping his head on the armrest of one end, he crossed his ankles and set them on the other end. Then he opened my copy of The Chamber of Secrets I’d loaned to him and began to read. He turned a page every minute or so and seemed to be three quarters of the way through, making me think he was really reading it.
I’d been scanning the shelves that were facing away from him, but I gave in to temptation and turned around to read the other shelves behind me, so all I’d have to do to see him was squat half an inch to peek over the tops of a row of books.
Between all my reading and peeking, I found a total screw up in the call numbers. An entire shelf was out of order. I pulled every book off the ledge and piled them on the floor. I was just beginning to put them back in the correct order when I heard, “Hello, Mason,” in a low, private voice.
Crouched on the floor, I peeked through an open gap and saw Dr. Janison standing above him.
My heart sank into my stomach. Oh, holy shit. Had he come up here to meet a client?
Mason jerked upright and set the open book in his lap. He looked startled to see her. Thank God. That gave me some hope that he hadn’t planned this little encounter.
“You shouldn’t be talking to me,” he murmured, glancing meaningfully toward the stairs.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Janison answered just as quietly. “No one ever comes up here. We won’t be caught together.” Shifting closer, she eyed his lap. “What’re you reading there?”
Without waiting for an answer, she reached out, caught the edge of the book and tilted it forward just enough to see the cover.
An amused smile lit her face. “I approve,” she murmured in a husky purr. “I have a preference for British Literature myself.”
Mason peered up at her with a wary squint. “I’m not…I can’t schedule a meeting with you to…to talk about classes again.” He said it so quietly I had to strain to hear him. “I’ve dropped out of those courses and changed my major completely.”
For a second, I wasn’t sure if Dr. Janison had heard him either, or if she had deciphered his code correctly. Heck, maybe I hadn’t deciphered his code correctly.
But after studying him for an overly long five seconds, the professor smiled a slow, knowing smirk. “So you’re raising your prices again?”
My mouth fell open. What?
Mason seemed similarly struck. “What?”
Dr. Janison chuckled. “I remember you doing something like this last year. Stopped making appointments for a few months, told everyone you were finished. But it turns out you just needed more…incentive.” She leaned closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay whatever you charge.”
I could only see the side of his face, but the side I saw was filled with red-hot rage. Or was it humiliation? “This isn’t about money. I’m done.”
She looked confused for a second before her face cleared. Nodding sagely, she murmured, “Ah, so it’s the girl, then?”
I covered my mouth with both hands. Girl? What girl? Did he have a girl?
Oh, my God. Was I the girl?
I had to be. Who else could the girl be? I was the only girl who’d publically associated herself with him and the one girl Dr. Janison had seen him sitting beside.
“That’s fine. You’re young and curious. I don’t mind if you play at a relationship for a while. As long as you return to where you belong when you’re done.” Dr. Janison reached out to touch his hair, but he shifted his head away from her seeking fingers. She dropped her hand but didn’t look deterred in the least. “Just let me know when you’re finished with her. And then…I’ll pay whatever fee you ask.” She winked. “I know you’re good for it.”
She took a business card from her pocket and slowly bent to set it in the spine of the open pages as if slotting in a bookmark.
Eww. Now I was going to have to spray every page with disinfectant to erase her slut cooties after Mason returned the story to me.
How dare she put her business card in my book? It made me hot and angry and sad and heartbroken and kind of sick with jealousy and repulsion. I even grew pissed at Mason for leading the kind of life he led, where situations like this happened.
Dr. Janison blew him a kiss, then turned and strolled off.
As soon as she was gone, Mason sliced a guilty glance in my direction.
The breath caught in my throat. Oh, God. I couldn’t breathe. He did know I was here, which meant I just might be the girl.
He’d come up here to be close to me. He’d told one of his clients he was done taking appointments. There was a girl involved. In my head, one and one and one made holy shit, he’s no longer a gigolo.
Giddy warmth stole through me, but then I mentally slapped myself across the face.
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d just watched another woman solicit him for sex—which she planned to pay any price for—and I was woozy about thinking he might want to start a relationship with me?
I must’ve lost my damn mind.
I don’t think he saw me watching him. I was still kneeling on the floor by the bottom shelf, but I moved my face out of my peephole just to be sure.
When I had to—yes, I had to—look again, he was picking Dr. Janison’s business card out of my book with the very tips of his thumb and index finger. Handling it carefully as if it were contaminated, he flicked it into a nearby trashcan.
A huge grin spread my lips wide.
Who cared what sick plague had infected me for wanting to be with a gigolo—or possibly an ex-gigolo. He’d just turned down a client.
For me!
Well, maybe for me. But the maybe part made all the difference. I was thrilled. Euphoric.
Getting back to work in a much better mood, I sorted through the misshelved books and organized them with much more buoyancy. I couldn’t stop smiling. I might’ve even begun to hum a cheerful tune under my breath.
I felt jovial until I heard another female voice saying Mason’s name. Jesus Herbert Christ, they were like cockroaches coming out of the woodwork to swarm him.
But this voice was way too familiar.
“Well, look who’s hanging out in a library, actually reading. Or is that just a front to meet some horny skank?”
I jerked my face up and peeked through a gap in the books in time to see Eva knock my book out of Mason’s hands—gasp, I know; the sacrilege of knocking Harry Potter to the floor was simply obscene. Then, my dear sweet cousin went and took its place, plopping onto his lap. Looping her arms around his neck, she added, “I just saw Dr. Janison up here. Isn’t she one of your regulars?”
My mouth dropped open wide. What the hell was she doing?
“Eva, get off me.” Grabbing her wrists that she’d seemingly super-glued around him, he struggled to untangle her arms.
Still perched on his lap, she merely smirked. “So, did you two actually do it up here, or were you only setting up your next…appointment? Personally, I think it’d be hot to do it in some place public. Like a library. Except we’d have to be too quiet.”
Giving up on trying to unlace her arms from around his throat—because he was having no luck whatsoever—Mason lifted his hands in surrender. “Seriously, you need to get off me. Now.”
“Seriously,” she repeated, her smile teasing as she unfastened one arm from around him only to run her newly freed finger down the center of his chest. “You need to loosen up.”
I went cold all over, and for the first time in my life, I wanted to do my cousin intense, bodily harm, like break that fi
nger she kept using to touch him.
“So, I’m not drunk now,” she said with a smile. “You don’t have to be a gentleman any longer. Still want to turn me down?”
“Yes.” He snorted. “I’m not going to sleep with you, Mercer. Ever.”
Her playful expression turned dark. Eyes flashing with outrage, she hissed, “Why? Because I’m not one of your professors? I can’t give you an automatic A for every orgasm well received?”
Oh, yeah, she totally said that.
“Actually, there are several reasons. And none of them have to do with that. First of which, you have a boyfriend, and he’s one of my good friends. Not to mention, I don’t want to have sex with you, plus your cousin is—”
Eva broke him off before I could hear what he was going to say about me. “Don’t you dare mention Reese. She’s been through enough and doesn’t need another loser asshole hurting her. So just stay away. Got it?”
Mason blinked, looking startled. Then his face clouded with fury. “Who hurt her? Hurt her how?”
Eva didn’t answer. Instead, she smiled. “She’s not to be played with. If you want to play, you’ll have to settle for me.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could change your mind.”
She reached between his legs, and he reacted instantly, surging to his feet and dumping her off his lap to the floor in an angry heave. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to defend Mason or save my cousin—since he looked pissed enough to hurt her. But I flew from my hiding spot.
“Eva!” I shout-whispered. “What the hell are you doing? That’s sexual assault.”
Instead of apologizing with utter embarrassment, Eva turned indignant. Picking herself up off the floor in a huff, she scowled at me. “Whatever. He’s a prostitute, ReeRee. He’s nothing.”
Mason’s chest swelled as he sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes glazed with emotion, but I think there was more hurt than anger in their depths.
