Lucky Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “What now?” She shudders as if the thought of being stuck with me is a fate worse than death.

  “You can be my wingman.”

  “Wingwoman,” she corrects. “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Let’s see where we can take the night.” I head over to a girl I recognize from Business 101, Misty Richards, and strike up a conversation. Misty is hot by anybody’s standards, blonde bombshell, yet conservative in both her dress and demeanor.

  Lucky leans in. “Lawson is the soul reason the basketball team is leading this season.”

  My mouth opens to correct her, but my ego grabs ahold of my vocal cords.

  “What’s this crap?” Tom Hilden comes up from behind and slaps me over the back with a laugh. “Dude, you know I’m the reason we’re even having a season.”

  Misty laughs so loud I can actually hear my ego cracking like glass and shattering all over the floor.

  I make up some lame excuse and pull Lucky off with me. “Come on, wingwoman. That’s strike one.” I spot Courtney, one of the baristas at Hallowed Grounds, and head over. Courtney is a sweet, perky brunette with a severe underbite that she doesn’t mind sharing when she smiles.

  Lucky leans in before I can get out the gate. “He’ll have an extra large carnal caramel with a few extra pumps of testosterone.” She gives an exaggerated wink.

  “Trolling for the girls, huh, Law?” Courtney doesn’t mind getting right into the swing of things. She even manages to jut her chin out a little extra at me when she grins, and it makes it feel that much more like a dig. “I think you should go straight for a double shot of macho-macchiato to give you that extra boost you’re looking for.”

  “Nice.” I glare at the two of them.

  Don Evans comes up from behind, and Court is quick to fill him in on my over caffeinated trolling endeavors. Before we know it, they’re sharing a laugh on my behalf.

  “I think our work here is done.” I wrap an arm around Lucky’s unlucky shoulders and lead her deep into the crowd. “You’re a lousy wingwoman, you know that?”

  “Excuse me? I thought we were a team. And if you ask me, Misty and Tom look pretty friendly.” He nods over to where they’re making out in the corner.

  “Looks like things are heating up in here.” For a moment I transpose their bodies for ours, and I wonder what it would feel like making out with Lucky like that in a dark corner, in a crowded room. “You want to get some air?”

  “Are you kidding? Dressed like this? I’ll freeze to death.”

  “All right, let’s head upstairs. I need to get away from this noise or my head will explode.” And if Lucky is with me, my job as her indentured servant is still in full swing. I feel very much indentured despite the fact her brother threw a grand in my face.

  “You want me to head up to that STD riddled vipers’ nest?” She chortles out a laugh. “Yeah, sure why not. Ten bucks says I find a condom on the floor. If it’s used, you owe me fifty.”

  “Deal.” I know for a fact my room is spotless because Beta house pooled their dues and hired a housekeeper who just so happens to sweep my floors of all condoms, used and otherwise.

  We head up, and I lead her down the hall before entombing us in the quiet sanctuary of my bedroom.

  “Wow.” Her eyes widen in wonder as she walks a small circle, soaking in every tidy inch of it. “I’m actually a little impressed.”

  A smug grin comes to me.

  “You actually have an entire assortment of condoms to choose from.”

  Crap. Lucky heads over to the boxes lined neatly on my bookshelf. The room might be neat as a pin, but I may have forgotten that Rush likes to take his empty boxes and display them on my shelf as if they were art.

  “Glow in the dark?” She picks it up and shakes it, only to find it hollow on the inside. “Smooth as skin?” She nods as she continues down the road. “Neon brights! I’m sure those are a big hit—something has to be big, right?” She gives a devilish wink my way, and I snarl at her. “Extra ribbed,” she continues. “Tickle Me Pink! Nothing like a girly condom to get a chick going.” She snarls right back. “Alligator skin? I pray that’s just a replica. Pleasure Point, Slip and Slide Delight.” She flicks each box back an inch with her finger, only to discover each one sits empty of its contents. “My, my, you have been a busy, busy boy.” Her lavender eyes snag on mine. “I bet you keep student health services pretty busy, too. Have they developed a missile shield defense system strong enough to ward off those STDs you’re up against?”

  “You’re not funny.” I pat a spot on the bed next to me and pull out a deck of cards.

  “And you’re not getting laid tonight. At least not by me.” She hops over and lands next to me. Her perfume plumes in the air like a fresh floral breeze, and as much as I hate to admit this, I can appreciate it.

  “You smell nice.” It comes out quiet, like a surrender. “I’m betting nice is not typically a word many people associate with you.”

  She wrinkles her nose as if she knows it’s true. It is.

  “I am nice—in fact, I’m diving headfirst into that community interaction project next week.” She takes the deck from me and starts to shuffle. A real shuffle, not the crashing and smashing of cards together that I’ve seen most girls do, and now I’m the one who’s impressed.

  “So, how many boxes have you helped empty?” I glance up at Rush’s condom display that she’s left in disarray. Rush is so anal he’ll spend half an hour trying to align them just right once again.

  Her face explodes a candy apple red, and something stirs in me to take a bite.

  “None—of your business.” Her brows tick up a notch. Lucky has those dark wiggle worm brows that you see so many girls trying to replicate. Lucky is a natural beauty—on the outside at least. She seems to be a bit of a rough diamond on the inside. “How about you?” She hands the deck back to me and cuts it.

  “More than you, and less than you think.” Truth. I’m calling her bluff. I’d bet every dollar her brother gave me to keep her on a leash that she’s still a virgin. As much as she likes to bark at the world, she’s a toothless kitten at the end of the day.

  “More than me? So, you assume because I’m a girl that I haven’t amassed a body count? You’re ridiculous, emphasis on the dick.”

  I lay a pair of cards in front of both of us, one face down, one face up.

  “Twenty-one.” She slaps her hand over her card that’s face down and pulls it up slowly.

  “Blackjack,” I correct.

  “Call it what you want. It’s twenty-one.”

  “I guess there’s no use in arguing with you. I’d have more luck arguing with those boxes you unsettled. They’re not mine, by the way. They belong to your big brother. He likes to keep them in my room so the girls don’t catch on to how prolific he really is.”

  “Not sure I believe you.” She asks for a hit and goes over.

  I uncover my card and hit twenty-one on the nose. “Dealer dominates every time.” I study her as she glares down at the cards. “So tell me something about you. What do you do for fun? Kick puppies?” Sounds like a fair guess, considering who I’m speaking with.

  She growls at me as if she were about to bite my face off—she most likely is. “I keep to myself. Ava and Harper are nice. They’re the only girls I’ve ever been close to. I’ve been a loner most of my life.”

  “A loner, huh?” I find it odd, considering she’s upfront and personal with just about everyone in Beta house. “So, how do you meet these studs you’ve bedded if you’re holed up alone in your room?”

  “Please. Dolts like you are everywhere.” She doesn’t miss a beat.

  I deal and crush her once again.

  “How about you? I hear you’re the new pet acquired by the Tobermans. Nice family. I love them all. I haven’t seen Trixy in forever. I’ve seen Knox around a few times. He wants to play football here like his brother.”

  My stomach tightens because a part of me half-expects her to cop to a
crush. Knox is a great guy. Rock-hard body. I can see it happening.

  “He’s like my brother, though.” She makes a face as I whoop her again.

  The knot in my stomach straightens right out, and I feel the release that her words afforded. Not sure why. Knox is taken, though. That’s probably it.

  “My sister and Rex are throwing the twins a surprise birthday party in a few weeks. You should come. I know they’d love to see you there.”

  “Are you kidding?” Her eyes light up like living flowers. My mother used to grow African violets. She had an entire mini farm of pots that she cultivated. It was her favorite flower, and here Lucky’s eyes are the exact representation—lighter, but just as deep and velvety. “I’d love to. It’s a date,” she teases. “A date is when two people go out without any sexual expectations,” she says it slow and dramatic as if she were speaking to the village idiot.

  “I know what a date is. They’re not my thing. You can tag along.” I lean in. “That’s when someone annoying shows up and refuses to leave, thus turning a good time into something less than stellar,” I say in the same monotone octave she chose to invoke.

  Lucky belts out a laugh just before beating me at a single round of Black Jack. “My work here is done. I’d better get downstairs. I’d hate to improve your reputation and ruin mine all at the same time.” She hops to the door, and her perfume trails her like a scarf.

  “Stay away from dolts,” I call after her. I’m in no mood to go down and babysit for the rest of the night.

  “That’s why I’m leaving you!” She laughs as she shuts the door, and I can’t help but laugh right along with her. Not sure what was so funny other than Lucky is a party in and of herself.

  The room quiets down. The scent of her perfume seeps back under the door as if following her out, and suddenly it’s too quiet, the stench of old sweat socks clotting up my nose once again.

  Damn, if I don’t miss her just a little.

  She’s still annoying.

  Saturday night, the boys and I get together and head over to the Black Bear. There’s no mixer, no dress code, no coach, no professors breathing down our necks. We walked over so we could get as toasted as we wanted, and the best part is the bar will be crawling with a buffet of beautiful women. It’s nights like tonight that I’m glad I’m alive.

  “Where’s Ava?” Rush nods to Grant as we make our way inside.

  “Movie night with the girls. That means you’re not getting Lucky tonight,” he teases, looking my way.

  “I am getting lucky tonight, dude. What I’m not getting is verbally accosted. The girl has a mental vise grip on my balls and she knows just how to squeeze them. And I’m not into her, so don’t even joke like that. Especially don’t joke like that around her beast of a brother.” I sock Rush in the arm. “I’m not talking about this pussy either.”

  “Jet?” Grant looks perplexed. “He’s cool, man. That guy would do anything for anyone. He was there for me in one of my darkest hours. He really helped me get through last semester.”

  “The dude is a hulk. He paid me a grand to make sure Lucky stays pristine as the day she was born. Now, I can do a lot of things, but turning water into wine isn’t one of them, and neither is maintaining the questionable purity of Lucky Madden. But for the sake of her brother’s peace of mind and my financial stability, I’ve agreed to give it the old college try.” A dark laugh strums from me, but I’m alone in my glee.

  Both Rush and Grant take a somber pause before taking their seats.

  “You didn’t take the cash, did you?” Rush looks affronted, as if this somehow personally offended him. I’m sure he feels like protecting Lucky’s purity is his civic duty to begin with—at least within the Greek system.

  “Of course, I took it. And I don’t need either of you announcing it with a bullhorn. Especially you.” I shoot Grant a look. “She is a virgin, right?”

  Grant smirks. “And I would know this because?”

  I shrug as if it were no big deal. “Ask Ava.” Not sure why I went there. For some reason, I seem dead set on proving my point—that A she’s a liar, and B she’s a virgin.

  “No way, no how.”

  Holt comes over and takes our orders. I met Holt over the summer. He’s one of the head bartenders and happens to own this place along with his siblings. He and his brother, Bryson, are twins, thus both of them used to make Grant uncomfortable. Grant’s sister, Stephanie, who passed away, had a huge crush on Bryson, and it eventually led to her demise. I don’t know how Grant managed to push past all the drama and trauma, but he did. Not only is he dating the sister of the girl who murdered Stephanie, but he doesn’t seem to have any more hang-ups about the Black Bear either.

  We wait until Holt takes off again before commencing our discussion on Lucky’s carnal standing.

  “It’s just a simple question.” I flick a napkin at Grant as if I really didn’t care about the outcome. I don’t, do I?

  “Ava and Lucky talk. I’m not about to ask Ava if her best friend is a virgin and then expect her not to say a word.”

  “Whatever. I don’t really care. I’ve got a solid G in my possession, and it will be the easiest money I have ever made. That girl repels more than she attracts.”

  Rush snorts as he offers up a dead stare my way. “She’s not repelling you. In fact, you can’t seem to stop talking about her. She’s my little sister, and yet I haven’t mentioned her once.”

  “That’s because I’m paid protection. Hey, you haven’t seen her hook up with anyone, have you?”

  Holt drops our drinks off, and we thank him.

  “Time to get loose.” Rush salutes me. “Question my little sister’s virtue again, and I’ll be forced to kick your ass.”

  “Admit you’re into her.” Grant sucks the foam off his beer. “Tell us you want to be the first to land her horizontal, and that you—Lawson Love ’Em and Leave ’Em Kent has finally been pussy-whipped. That’s your vulgar jargon I’m throwing back at you, by the way.”

  “I’m not into her.” I shrug because it happens to be the truth. A boulder sits on my chest as if weighing me down, ready to send me sailing toward middle earth with one wrong move. “I’m not pussy-whipped by her or anyone else. I’m still Love ’Em and Leave ’Em Lawson.” I grin over at the two of them.

  “Prove it.” Rush pumps a grin.

  “Prove it?”

  “That’s right.” Rush glances to the mosh pit of girls losing it to the music. “You and I are going to dive into that pool of beautiful female skin and come away with a couple of home runs for the night.”

  “Done.” I knock my glass to the table.

  “And that’s it?” Grant balks at the propositions. He shakes his head over at me in disbelief. “Ten bucks says this dude will come up with a dozen excuses why he can’t land a girl on his mattress.”

  “Ten bucks?” Rush laughs at the mention of the bill that bears Hamilton’s countenance. “Forget that shit. Let’s put some real stakes behind this.”

  “I’m in.” I know Rush is loaded. But he can ask for a million, and I’d still take him on because they’re both wrong. I can find a girl. This is easy. I’ll close the deal in less than an hour and leave both their tongues wagging.

  Rush nods with a faraway gleam in his eyes as if it’s all coming together. “If we both get lucky tonight—so be it. That’s a prize in and of itself. If one of us strikes out by midnight—the loser gets crowned a prince.”

  “A prince?” Grant gives him the side eye as if our eccentric buddy just lost his royal mind.

  Rush needles me with that mischievous look he gets just before he vomits up a piss-poor idea. “Prince—as in Prince Albert.”

  “Shit.” Grant slaps his hand over the table at the thought of the penile piercing.

  Prince Fucking Albert. My lips stretch tight like a rubber band as I force a smile. “It’s on.”

  Last summer, a very inebriated frat brother educated us on exactly what a Prince Albert actually was
. It’s a piercing—straight through the tip of your dick. Most dudes put a ring on it. Holy hell. There is no way I’m putting a ring on it—not on my dick, not on any woman’s finger in the near or far future.

  I scan the bar for the prospects of the evening. Half of The Row is here, minus Ava, Lucky, or Harper, and I’m glad about their absence.

  “This will be a breeze.” I knock back my drink, lubing myself with the liquid courage I really don’t need. “Watch and weep. I’m about to show you how it’s done.”

  I head over to a group of girls, and Rush dives in headfirst right along with me. I spot him starting a conversation with Jenna Marshall, a leader over at Kappa G. A clear slam dunk, and now I’m kicking myself for not scoping her out first.

  Sharon Ridgefield floats by, another slam dunk, but something about bedding Lucky’s sorority leader rubs me the wrong way. Instead, I try to make small talk with a few of the coeds nursing their fruity colored drinks while swinging their hips to the 12 Deadly Sins as the band hacks away at a cover song. I like the Sins. They’re pretty good. The best part of the Sins is that they bring the girls out in droves, making my goal for the night that much easier to accomplish.

  I meet up with a trio of brunettes—all of which have Lucky’s long dark hair. I end up pawing one of them, petting her luscious locks as if she were a Golden Retriever.

  “Soft.” I nod as she continues her conversation on the benefits of taking macroeconomics. “Do you know Lucky Madden? I swear, she’s got hair just like this.”

  “What?” The girl inches back like I’m some freak and moves on.

  No problem. Wasn’t meant to be. I move myself on to a blonde with huge tits and a painted-on smile that rivals any clown. She drones on and on about her ex, and I don’t even give a shit. If he’s the catalyst that lands this chick and her airbags in my bed tonight, I might pen him a thank-you letter. It takes a full five minutes, but I finally notice her eyes.

  “You’ve got lavender eyes.” I can hardly believe it.