“There’s no way in hell whatever you think is fun is also something I’d find enjoyable. Hence why I’m worried.” I reach for the tray McKenna abandoned and down another shot. Every time I’m with Lucas these days alcohol is involved. Booze and Pucas separate are both trouble. Together, they’re volatile—let’s not forget the kissing incident.
“True, but there’s one big thing you’re forgetting.” He’s leaning in close to me. His breath tickles my cheek with each word he says. It smells like peppermint and the proximity gives me goosebumps.
“And what’s that?” My voice is breathy, and my eyelids flutter on instinct, likely from the alcohol seeping into my blood. Definitely not from Lucas Fletcher.
“You don’t have a choice.” His words are a pale of ice water dumped on us, and breaking the potential moment as he leans back and laughs. “Drink up,” he adds, and I scoff and roll my eyes.
Just because I pick up my drink and guzzle it down doesn’t mean I’m doing as I’m told. I’m merely parched.
I’m given a few minutes of peace when my enemy spots a friend of his and he wanders away to talk to him. The room is getting fuzzy and my thoughts are turning dangerous.
McKenna is still on the dance floor grinding her hips into the same guy’s hungry crotch. My gaze flits back to Lucas and I hate how my drunken mind finds him so attractive.
His button up shirt is rolled up to his elbows in the sexy way all guys can pull off. Every so often he runs a hand through his hair, causing his forearms to flex and my mouth waters with the movement.
His black jeans fit him like they were made for him, cupping his round ass. He’s giving Captain America a run for his money in those pants. He turns around and catches me staring which is the worst possible thing that could happen. I’d rather cut out my own eyeballs than have him know I was checking him out.
I busy myself with my drink, playing with the straw and avoiding Lucas’s gaze at all costs. Next thing I know, he’s sliding beside me on the bench, close enough that his muscular thigh presses against mine.
“Dance with me.” The urge to say no is immediate and it’s on the tip of my tongue. I even open my mouth before he smirks and shakes his head. I can’t say no. Dammit.
With the urgency of a grandma sporting a bad hip, I stand and allow my nemesis to lead me to the center of the dance floor. I try my best to avoid McKenna because, to be frank, I don’t feel like dealing with her myriad of questions tomorrow.
I stand facing him, moving to the beat as if my feet are cemented to the ground. I look like those awkward teenage boys at school dances who stand against the wall bopping their heads but are too shy or too cool to actually dance.
“Olivia.” In a flash I’m spun around, forced into my rival’s arms with my back pressed against his chest. His mouth comes down, soft lips pressing against my ear. “Let loose.” His hands are firm on my hips, gripping me against him so I can’t move. My ass rocks against his crotch. If I push back hard enough, will I hurt him?
I don’t even have the option. His fingers dip into my hips, controlling them. I’m forced to move to the beat, to grind against him, to feel him. The alcohol burning in my veins works in tandem with Lucas in loosening me up and allowing me to feel the beat.
With his body pressed against mine and the music thrumming through my ears, I don’t stand a chance. I’m a goner.
I’m a goner for Lucas Fletcher.
Twelve
Lucas
I hate Olivia Hart. I hate Olivia Hart. I hate Olivia Hart.
The mantra, which in reality couldn’t be further from the truth, is the only thing keeping my erection at bay as the annoying little vixen rubs her tight little ass against my cock. I’m glad she decided on pants instead of a mini skirt like most girls wear or I’d be too tempted to lift it up or rip it off her and fuck her right in the middle of the club.
One song merges into the next and either she’s really enjoying dancing with me—which is doubtful—or she’s more drunk than I realized. She keeps dancing through the songs, never pausing or hesitating as the beat changes.
She spins around, her dark hair whipping me in the face with the velocity of her turn, and when her eyes settle on mine, she’s shocked. It’s as if she’s forgotten what she’s doing and who she’s doing it with. There’s no doubt in my mind, she’s way past drunk and well on her way to blacking out.
I wanted her to have fun. I thought it’d be a night for her to remember, not one she has to forget just to get through it.
“Come on, Liv, let’s get you sobered up.” I take her hand and drag her with me back to our booth where she promptly collapses onto the bench. McKenna is nowhere in sight and my plans for tonight are flying out the proverbial window.
The night is still young, though, so I ply Olivia with several glasses of water to help sober her up. I grab her phone from her purse and have her unlock it so I can text her friend that we’re leaving.
McKenna: If anything happens to her I will castrate you and make you eat it.
What a lovely girl she is.
Olivia manages to climb relatively unharmed into the Uber and doesn’t even put up a fight. We’re driving in silence for five minutes when her head swivels to me slowly.
“Where are you taking me?” She’s horrified as if she’s sitting in the backseat with Freddie Krueger and not me.
“Coastal Café. You need coffee.” She sighs and I can tell she wants to argue. “The night’s not over yet, Liv. Just let loose. I’m not going to hurt you.” My hand hovers over her thigh, desperate to touch her, but I don’t feel like losing my hand tonight.
Instead, I lay my palm on the bench beside her, close enough for my pinky to brush the outside of her pants. Her head rolls to the side and down, where she sees my fingers splayed out next to her.
“You have some big hands.” She giggles and a devious smirk pulls at her pink lips. “You know what they say about big hands.” She lifts her hands up, palms facing in. She pulls and pushes her hands apart like she’s measuring something invisible in the air. From the way her eyebrows are wiggling, I’d say her mind has wandered into dirty territory.
My favorite territory.
“What are you implying, Olivia?” My voice is husky and my dick is hard as I imagine her gripping it in her tiny, soft hands.
“I’ve heard the rumors, and now that I see your hands, I imagine the rumors are true.” She glances down, her gaze flicking from my crotch and back up to my eyes.
“What rumors are those?” I’m not letting her off that easy.
She sighs like she’s had enough of me. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” She leans in to whisper in my ear, though she’s not very quiet. “Everyone says you have a big…you know. Penis.”
I laugh out loud. Not that it’s not true what she’s saying, but the fact she could’ve said cock or dick or anything else, but that she chose the word “penis” has me cackling.
She sits back in her seat, her face colored in a pink blush. “It’s true. Care to find out for yourself?” Her eyes flit down again and my dick jumps in my pants.
Before she can answer, the car stops and the Uber driver is quick to kick us out of the car. I pull Liv into the diner to sober her up. She inhales coffee and pancakes and both seem to do the trick.
“Where to next, Pucas?”
“I assumed you’d be chomping at the bit to get home.” I’m pleasantly surprised that’s not the case.
“I made you a deal and there’s nothing I hate more than people who go back on their word. I’m not about to become a hypocrite, even with you.” Her attitude is back, so I guess she’s feeling more herself again. I need to help her chill out again and I have just the idea.
After paying, we leave and since the diner is right on the pier, we take a walk in the fresh air. I stop at a bench, pull a joint out of my pocket, and light up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I take a long drag, holding the smoke in my lungs before blowing it out and
offering the joint to Liv.
“Relaxing. Now it’s your turn.” She backs away from me until she bumps into the railing.
“You want me to get high? That’s illegal and goes against the rules.”
“A little weed isn’t illegal.” I puff again, enjoying her panic.
“Maybe not in Colorado but last I checked we’re in North Carolina.” She’s whisper-yelling at me as if anyone is around to hear us.
“You need to relax. And I have just the thing to do it.” I hold the joint out, baiting her. “Come on, a little pot won’t kill you.”
“I’ll only do this if you agree to another bet.” She has a newfound determined look in her eye.
“Are you a glutton for punishment?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I bet you my soccer team wins the championship over yours.”
I guess she took the job. I wasn’t sure if she accepted.
“You’re playing the long game, huh?” The season doesn’t start for several months.
“It’s finally a fair bet. You versus me. Both rookies with no coaching experience. I promise you I’ll come out on top.”
“Oh, I hope you end up on top.” I wink at her and even though she rolls her eyes, her cheeks flush at my comment. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Instead of offering my hand, I give her the joint. “Smoke up.”
She takes it and her face scrunches up as if I’m poisoning her. Her lips wrap around the end of the blunt and she inhales the smoke into her lungs. In an instant, she’s coughing like she has COPD.
“I’ll take your bet, but I want a shorter-term one too.”
She inhales another puff of smoke and manages to not choke this time. “What do you have in mind?” she asks as the cloud of smoke slips between her lips.
I take the joint from her and take a long drag, leaving her with the anticipation. I look down at the blunt and get an idea for a wager I can’t lose.
“I bet I can eat more than you can right now.”
“That’s not fair. Of course you can. You’re a guy. You have an unfair advantage.”
“Fine, compromise. I bet I can eat an ice cream cone faster.” She narrows her eyes which are already turning red from the drugs.
“How are you thinking about food right now?” She stares at my lips. Girl’s got a point; I am hungry, but not necessarily for food.
“Give it some time for the munchies to kick in.” We walk back to down the pier and come across an ice cream stand. “Hi, we’ll take two large chocolate ice cream cones.”
Thirteen
Olivia
“I can’t believe you bite your ice cream. That’s unnatural.” Lucas is still comically shocked at how much ice cream I can eat in a short amount of time. He underestimated me.
“It’s about time I won one of these stupid bets. I have a real doozy for ya.”
“A real doozy, huh? Are you gonna put up your fisticuffs next?” He laughs and the sound is addicting. Though I feign irritation, I feel the smile pulling at my mouth.
“Shut up. You put on this stoner jock bravado for the world, but I want to see the real you. I want to see the softer side of Lucas Fletcher. If one exists.”
He rolls his eyes and motions to the door.
“I believe this is your place?” he was kind enough to walk me home, well, to the door after the Uber dropped us off.
“It is.” Luke has his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish and out of place in the hallway outside my door. “Don’t forget what I said.” I reach to unlock the door but he continues to stand there, staring at me. His gaze flits from my eyes and down. The tension in the air is thick.
Or maybe that’s the air in my lungs from the weed. I can’t tell.
I wet my lips and he moves an inch toward me. Then the doorknob is ripped from my hand as it swings open.
“What the hell are you doing?” McKenna’s eyes snap between us, both shock and disgust clear in her scrutiny.
“Nothing. Bye, Lucas.” I push my roommate through our door and slam it behind us. Her eyes shoot daggers of accusation at me, but I’m flighty and trying to avoid her.
She gasps as I move past her. “Are you high?”
Sonofabitch.
“What? No. Why?”
Could I act any more suspicious?
“You smell like a damn skunk and your pupils are pinpoints. What the hell has gotten into you?” Her face falls and disappointment follows.
“At least it’s what and not who.” The minute the words leave my mouth I’m flooded with regret. “Kenna, wait, I’m sorry.”
“You’re dick dumb for Lucas Fletcher and you’re turning into every other skank trying to get in his pants. When you need to go to the doctor to cure the inevitable STD you catch, don’t ask me for a ride.”
“I guess I’m the only person in town McKenna Parrish says no to. Aren’t I special?!” We part ways and slam our doors in tandem.
My breathing is heavy as adrenaline courses through me. I’m pissed and hurt and high as a kite, but of all the things for me to feel right now, I’m most surprised to be missing Luke. Maybe I am dick dumb. Can you be dick dumb for someone you haven’t slept with?
And why the hell am I thinking of sleeping with him at all? Dammit.
I turn on the cooking channel on the flat screen in my room and allow Cupcake Wars to lull me to sleep.
The aroma of coffee and bacon pull me from my slumber. I guess this is McKenna’s form of an olive branch.
“Ken?” I call to my roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.
“Morning, Barbie.”
“What?” My former arch nemesis is in my apartment. In the morning. And I’m not wearing a bra. Cool.
“Oh, you weren’t calling me Ken? Never mind then.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Lucas?” I cover my chest and the movement only makes his eyes land there faster.
“You wanted to see the sweet side of me. Here I am. Cooking you breakfast the morning after.” He winks and his response only leaves me with more questions. “Kenna let me in here.”
“I’m sure she was thrilled about that.” I really need to talk to her, but I need to figure out my feelings first. “Also, this isn’t what I meant. Anyone can cook breakfast. I want you to dig a little deeper.” I snag a piece of bacon off the plate on the counter and munch into the crunchy goodness.
“Aw, do you want to get inside my heart, Liv?” I swallow thickly realizing just how hard he hit the nail on the head. He’s still expecting an answer, so I shrug to maintain an ounce of nonchalance.
He flips the pancakes on the griddle and is quiet for a long time. “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
Good thing I hadn’t taken a sip of coffee or I would’ve spewed it all over him. The holiday is in a few weeks and the schools have off the entire week off. Every year I go with McKenna to her family dinner, but I don’t know if that will be an option this year if we don’t make up before then.
“Not getting poisoned by you is at the top of my list,” I tell him, which makes him laugh.
“You want to know me, this is the best way. My sister, Carson, will be there—the one you harassed in CVS with an obnoxious box of condoms.” My cheeks heat at the memory.
“Fine, but when I pull up and find the gates of hell, I’m out of there.”
After Lucas leaves, I concoct a master plan to apologize to my best friend. She finally walks through the door as I’m in the middle of cooking her favorite meal for dinner—eggplant parmesan. In her hands is a box of Duck Donuts, my favorite dessert.
“Truce?” she says as she hands me the box. I pull out the Oreo donut and it somehow both melts and crumbles in my mouth.
“Truce,” I agree. “I’m sorry. I was high and acting like a total bitch. Before you ask, no. I don’t know what I’m doing with Lucas, but I’m having fun and letting loose. It’s refreshing. I’m not overthinking it—I just want to live a little.” I take another bite of the fluffy treat, moaning as
the chocolate coats my tongue.
“Just be careful with him.” Her warning tone resonates with me. I know she means well and is only looking out for me.
Once dinner is finished we sit and catch up. I dish on what I’ve been up to with Luke. I explain my conflicted feelings and all the confusion I’m feeling including the ongoing nagging that keeps itching the back of my mind.
“So, that’s why you keep making bets with him. You want to spend more time with him.” For once, there’s no accusation in her tone. She’s just trying to understand.
I nod and my face heats. “It’s stupid.” There’s no way he likes me in that way. I’ll just end up embarrassing myself and getting hurt if I admit the way I feel.
“You know what Selena says—the heart wants what it wants.” She takes a bite of her dinner and her face turns contemplative. “Also, remind me never to go to Vegas with you to gamble. Clearly you suck at betting.”
Fourteen
Olivia
Doomsday has arrived. What does one wear to meet Satan’s family? Is a cloak and pitchfork too much?
After settling on an emerald green sweater dress and tan knee-high boots, I grab the wine I’m bringing Lucas’ parents, forcing myself not to open it and chug it now.
A knock on the door has my pulse jumping in my veins. Luke is on the other side, hands in his pockets, and a boyish grin on his stupidly handsome face.
“Liv, you look…nice.” My spirits deflate a bit at his below-average compliment.
“Thanks, you too.” I grab my purse from beside the door as we leave and head downstairs to willingly hop in Lucifer’s car.
I study Luke’s profile, from his moppy hair to his carefree smile and down to his “perfect son” clothes—a pale gray sweater and khakis.
His sweater stretches over the contours of his hard chest and arms like a dream. His pants hug his thighs and until this moment I didn’t know I could be so enamored by quads.
“Why don’t you go home for Thanksgiving?”
“Well, my mom passed away a few years ago and my dad left when I was a baby. I don’t even remember him or know if he’s even still alive.” Guilt still tastes like battery acid on my tongue as I think about my father. Should I have looked for him harder? Should I try to find him and reach out to have some semblance of a relationship? Is it even on me to be the one to find him? Shouldn’t that be his job?
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