by P. Dangelico
The moon shines brightly inside my bedroom. I turn on a lamp, walk straight to the wall of windows that overlook the beach, and lean my bare back against the cool glass. At this point, it’s wise to keep as much distance between us as possible. I can’t trust myself not to do something stupid.
Dora makes it halfway and stops. Standing in the middle of the room, she starts to fidget again.
“It’s okay, Dora. Just say it.”
“Okay…okay…I-I…” She huffs and paces in a circle, her curvy hips swinging, her small feet moving in quiet steps while I wait her out.
“I was having a g-great time tonight…”
Seriously? Is she going to torture me with a blow-by-blow of her date?
“…and I s-started thinking…” She glances up and my stomach clenches. “I don’t want to r-ruin it…because I’m…you k-know…inexperienced.”
Payback’s a bitch. I’m being punished for all the dumb shit I’ve done. That’s exactly what this is.
“Dora, most guys…” Words get stuck in my throat. Now I know how she feels all the time. I’m nearly choking on them, but she deserves to know the truth––even if it kills me. “Guys like being the first.” Shrugging, I continue, “It doesn’t make it right, but it’s true.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She exhales in frustration. “What I mean is…w-what if I d-don’t have a good experience? It could r-ruin the relationship.”
A fucked up sense of pride fills me. She’s worried that she could sour on the dude if he doesn’t make it good for her. In some backward way, it makes me happy that she’s not willing to settle for mediocrity.
“Which is w-why I’m h-here…I have s-something t-to ask you––a favor.”
Her bright white teeth dig into the fat part of her bottom lip and my dick wakes up and takes notice.
This is not the time, bro.
Somehow, I sac-up and resist the urge to squeeze my dick and readjust. This is my friend, after all. A good friend. A friend that I care about more than I should. Which means I can’t allow the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in months effect this relationship. That would be bad. Never thought I’d say these words in my lifetime, and yet there you have it––I don’t want to ruin my friendship with sex.
Brushing her long red hair off her shoulder, she laced her hands together and her big brown eyes meet mine…hopeful. My heart begins to pump faster and louder. It’s like my body knows something big is about to go down before I do.
“W-will you sleep with m-me?”
Good thing I’m already leaning against something because the blood just drained out of my head. “Sleep with you…You mean like a sleep over?”
By the look on her face, I’m way off target. Which is exactly what I was afraid of.
“No. No sleeping. Just s-sex. Just s-straight up sex––”
“Got it. Got it. You don’t have to keep repeating it…I…umm––”
“P-please just hear me out,” she blurts. “I n-need t-to do it with someone I t-trust. Someone I know will make m-my f-first time as good as it can be.”
The pleading look she gives me is a fucking dragon slayer. No man with blood in his veins could say no to this woman when she looks at him like that.
“So I thought…” She sighs, her shoulders drop. “Y-you’re my friend. There isn’t anyone––any guy, I mean––that I t-trust more…” She steps forward, and if there was an open window nearby I’d be tempted to jump out of it.
“What d-do you say, Dall. Will you do it? You offered once.”
Somewhere between Barstow and Las Vegas I turned a two-hundred-thousand dollar car into a pile of scrap metal. Nothing like almost dying to help you get clear on how you want to live and this girl…she’s the first person in my life I don’t want to disappoint.
“That was a joke! I was teasing you.”
In my defense, I did not mean to say that so harshly but I’m in panic mode right now. I want to. Fucking A, I do. I want to so badly. But I also know I’m a bad bet and sex changes everything. She doesn’t know it yet, but I do.
Her face goes blank. Her eyes get real big. This is not a good sign. “It’s ok-kay. You d-don’t have to explain. I’m s-s-s-s. Crud. S-sorry…forget I s-said anything.”
It hits me like a thunderbolt that she misunderstood me. She thinks I’m not attracted to her––which couldn’t be farther from the truth. By the time my body kicks into gear, she’s already halfway down the hall and speed walking to the front door.
“Hey, Dora,” I hear Brock say. I come around the corner in time to watch Brock catch her by the shoulders as she almost crashes into him.
“You okay?” he asks, his face flashing genuine concern.
“Hi, B-Brock. Uh-huh, yeah. I gotta go.”
“Dora!” I shout but she doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t look at me. All it does is draw fire from Brock who looks pissed. Typical. I’m immediately identified as the villain. In the meantime, Dora gets past him.
“Don’t let her go! Dora, wait!”
I get to the threshold and the fucker blocks me. The big guy is six foot five and an easy two-thirty. At at six foot one and two hundred pounds, I’m not moving him an inch.
“She seems to want to leave, bro.”
“It’s complicated. Trust me, I have to catch her.” And still, he doesn’t move. “Due process, bro. Aren’t you pre-law?”
By the time, my meddlesome roommate steps aside, Bernadette is pealing out of the driveway. I sprint after her glowing red taillights in bare feet and get only half a block before I lose her.
Chapter Fifteen
Dora
I. Am. Mortified.
I knew there was a good chance he’d turn me down, but that look on his face…if there had been an open window he would’ve jumped out and made a run for it.
I scan The Cantina, the local bar where most Malibu U students hang out, to make sure a certain somebody hasn’t walked in. For the middle of the week, the place is packed with a mix of students and locals. The music coming from the jukebox loud and the conversation louder. When I don’t see Dallas or any of the other guys on the team, I relax a little but the victory is short-lived.
“I did s-something last night…” I mutter around a mouthful of chips. I eat when I’m nervous. What can I say, old habits die hard.
“What are you doing for spring break, Red?” Zoe says, interrupting my self-inflicted punishment.
Spring break starts in a few days and we all have different plans. Blake and Zoe are headed to The Palmilla in Mexico to meet up with Blake’s dad. Alice is going back to Jersey to visit her folks. And I’m launching “Operation Motherload.” I’m driving up to San Francisco to meet Katherine. Whether she’s ready or not.
“Plans, Red?” Zoe checks me out and frowns. “Do you have any? And stop looking around like you’re waiting for your dealer. What is up with you lately? You’re acting weird.”
If she only knew…but the more important point is that nobody heard me. Huh, dilemma. Do I repeat myself? Because it feels like it’s something I need to get off my chest. Or do I hold my tongue?
“I-I’m thinking about…” I take a gulp of my soda––stalling. Meanwhile, three very curious expressions stare back at me. “I’m thinking about going to San F-Fran t-to see my b-birth mother.”
“That bitch that sent you the email?”
Zoe has two speeds: love and hate. There’s nothing in between.
I nod and her perfectly groomed eyebrows climb up her forehead. “You’ve got chutzpah. I’ll give you that.”
“I f-feel like I have to.”
“Then you should,” Blake remarks.
“I would if I were you,” Alice chimes in. “I wish I had the chance to know my mother better before she died…it might not be pleasant but you’ll never wonder.”
“T-That’s why I’m going to do it.”
Across the bar, I spot one of the bookends and my mind immediately takes me back to Dallas. “I did s-something
last night…” I start again, louder, with a little more courage this time.
Blake stares at me. Then she shouts, “Oh my God! You––”
“No––” I sharply deny before that train leaves the station. “Not yet.”
“Your first BJ?” Zoe brings the bottle of Anders-Burns beer bottle to her lips and sips. “You better have kept your eyes shut like I taught you.”
“That was our f-first date.” And my last with Andy. He’s a perfectly nice guy that I have absolutely no physical chemistry with. Otherwise he’d be the perfect boyfriend. Why does love have to be so complicated?
“Don’t judge”––Zoe points a well-manicured light-blue nail at me––“you judgy judger.”
“I askedDallastodothedeed.”
Three sets of eyes blink back at me. Two brown. One hazel. Confusion filling all of them. A few more seconds pass in silence. Meanwhile, I stuff another entire handful of chips in my mouth and wash it down with the dregs of Zoe’s margarita.
Blake finally speaks up. “Come again?”
After a fit of coughing, I push the empty margarita glass across the table at Zoe. “I asked Dallas to have s-sex with me.”
Silence. My goodness, I’ve rendered them speechless for once.
“Oh my gawd,” Zoe drawls. “You like him.”
“A-as a person. He’s been a good friend.” Small lie. Tiny prevarication.
I glance over at Alice for moral support and she shakes her head, lips pressed together to tamp down a grin. In other words, I’m on my own.
“C’mon. Don’t play us like that,” Blake says, chuckling.
“Are you on drugs?” Zoe again. “I forbid it.”
“Why d-do you h-hate him?”
Inquiring minds want to know. And judging by Alice’s expression, she was thinking the same.
Zoe’s amusement evaporates. She looks away briefly and swallows. “I’ve known guys like him all my life. They think they’re entitled to run over everyone and anyone for kicks…I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“He’s not like that, Z,” Blake argues. “I’ve told you this a million times.”
“He’s not,” I add. “He’s actually s-smart and sweet and––”
“Smart? Did you say smart?” Zoe’s face is the very picture of shocked indignation.
“He’s v-very smart.”
“Now I know you’re high.”
“Well you can r-rest easy b-because he turned me down.” My stomach clenches. It’s actually physically painful to admit.
“That son of a bitch. I’ll kill him.”
Alice bursts into laughter, I shake my head, and Blake rolls her eyes.
“But you j-just said I was high for asking him.”
“That was before he turned you down. Who the hell does he think he is?”
Zoe suddenly stiffens, her attention averts to someone or something over my shoulder. “Oh good. I don’t even have to hunt him down.”
My head whips around and there he is, standing in the entrance looking more gorgeous and sexy than any one person has the right to. What’s even worse––he doesn’t even have to try.
It looks like he ran here. His white t-shirt has a sweat stain in the middle, his tattoo bleeding through, and he’s wearing shorts and sneakers. His hair is wild and curlier at the ends from the physical exertion. Anybody else would look wrecked. Dallas manages to look even more attractive.
Those mesmerizing blue eyes scan the crowd, and once he spots our table, he trots right over, his expression so determined I don’t know if I should stand my ground, or cut and run.
“Girls,” he announces.
“Hi Dallas,” both Blake and Alice answer back. Zoe, on the other hand––nothing outside of a lot of glamorous glowering. When it goes on for far too long, I kick her under the table.
“Van Zant, what a surprise. You better have come with a written apology.”
He shoots her a confused look, shakes it off, and resumes his pointed stare at me.
“Can I talk to you?”
“I’m w-with the g-girls.”
He blows out a frustrated breath. “I see that. Can I talk to you anyway?”
He won’t stop until I acquiesce. Dallas is a closet go-getter for lack of a better term. The lazy no-effs-given attitude he puts on for the world to see is a sham, an act to sell the notion that he doesn’t care about anything when in fact he cares very much.
“Fine.”
He smiles, squares his shoulders, takes a satisfied breath. “Good.”
“F-Five minutes.”
“That’s all I need.”
Meanwhile, the girls watch us closely, their eyeballs ping-ponging between us. They haven’t had the benefit of seeing us together so this is all new to them.
I slide off the stool and march to the front door. No way will I humiliate myself in front of the rest of the Malibu U student body. Some of the bookends are here and watching him/us closely.
Once I get outside, in the shadow of the parking lot, I stop and turn. “Yes?”
“You ran out before I could explain.”
“You k-know I don’t run.”
“Fine. You speed walked,” he says all huffy. “What I was going to say…” His gaze darts to my lips and away, back to my lips and away, causing heat to infuse my cheeks.
“What I was going to say,” he repeats, struggling to find the right words, “is that sex changes everything. You don’t know that yet but it does…and…and any guy that tells you differently is full of shit.”
His gaze softens and drifts back to my lips. Which makes me fidget, my body coming alive under his rapt, sexy scrutiny. A slow moving heat starts between my legs and spreads up, up, up, over my breasts, pebbling my nipples. My skin is so sensitive the wind blowing on my bare arms hurts. If he can get me this turned on with one glance, I have to wonder what he can do with his actual body parts.
“I do want you,” he murmurs quietly, his gaze veering away to a set of headlights in the distance. I watch his Adam’s apple bob, his jaw tighten. “If I didn’t think it would fuck up our friendship, I’d take you up on your offer right now, but I know better”––his eyes meet mine again, packed with sadness––“and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want it to ruin us.”
A moment of silence turns into two, then three.
“I understand.”
Because I do. Who am I kidding? I’m half in love with him already. I can’t even contemplate what it would feel like to see him with another girl. Curiously, since the accident, I haven’t seen any bookends hanging around. And yet it’s only a matter of time. Once he gets his driver’s license and his life back, I could turn into a long forgotten memory.
He studies my face. “Do you?”
Nodding. “Yeah.”
I guess I’ll have to resign myself to dating more Andys of the world. Not that there’s anything wrong with him. He’s perfectly fine. At least he won’t break my heart.
Chapter Sixteen
Dora
“Dora!” I hear coming from across the quad.
I’ve been avoiding him. I totally have. The talk we had a few days ago did not do me any good whatsoever. It’s only cemented the reality that I’m weak and shallow and in serious danger of stumbling into love with him. Which is why I need a time-out.
He’s been calling––I hit voicemail. He’s been texting––I’m busy with schoolwork is my patent answer.
“Dora!” I hear the slapping of footsteps behind me and I break out into an actual semi-jog. Yep, I am almost running. And yet I can’t shake him. He’s static cling, the lost red sock sticking to my sweatshirt right out of the drier, dogging my every step to the parking lot.
“Stop acting like you don’t hear me,” he says in my ear as I reach the top of the stairs huffing and puffing.
The parking lot is full of students loading up their cars. Most have already left for spring break but some stranglers, like me, are leaving today.
“I-I can’t talk
right now. I-I’m leaving for the week.”
“Oh, yeah––where?”
“Where?” Abruptly, I stop and turn, and in doing so, I almost crash into him. Dallas takes hold of my arms and steadies me before stepping back and putting some much-needed distance between us.
His admission that he wants me too only served to fuel the sexual tension between us. It’s at DEFCON 5 right now and I’m not sure we can deescalate without one of us taking drastic measures.
“Umm, away.”
All the running has left a fine mist of sweat on my face while he looks like the windswept hero in my favorite Julia Quinn historical romance novel. Hair perfectly disheveled. Freshly tan with just the right amount of rosy glow on his perfect freaking cheekbones. It’s an overkill of perfection.
“Yeah, I got that part,” he snarks. “What I don’t get is why you’ve been leaving skid marks every time you’ve seen me around the last few days.” He studies my face. “Are you mad at me?”
Crud. “No! No, I’m not m-mad at you I’m…umm”––shit, shit, shit––“I’m g-going to see my m-mother.”
“Your mother?” he repeats. His brows draw together, heavy thoughts resting there. He makes thinking look hot. This is just beyond the pale.
“Yeah,” I sigh. I’m not even sure I’m doing the right thing. Problem is, I can’t silence the belief that if I don’t do it now––I never will.
“I’m coming with you.”
“You want to come with me…to, to m-meet my mother?”
Dallas looks off, his nose wrinkles. He licks his lips. How can anyone think straight standing before a cursed pout like that? I know what those lips taste like. I know what they feel like against mine. And the thirst for more is getting out of hand.
“I can’t trust you not to get yourself in a world of trouble. Somebody’s gotta look out for you.” His gaze meets mine, a twinkle of something wicked in it. “Face it, Dory, you’re a danger to yourself. You need me.”
Wow. Major loaded sentence. But I’m not touching that bombshell right not. Not when I need to get on the road.
“So you’re g-gonna come with me?”
