by K. B. Nelson
“What is it that you’re having troubles with?”
“Why? Looking for a new job?” I chew into my lip, an artifact of seducing those who are more prone to fall into my trap.
“More like an unpaid internship.”
“Why would you even want to help me?”
“You’re a mess.”
“Thanks.” I brush my hand against the back of my head, flexing my bicep in plain view. She’s catching the bait, and I’m working in overdrive to continue luring her in.
“I’m going to be honest with you.”
“Be gentle.”
“Always.” She flashes a smile, wider than I’ve ever seen before. “When I first heard about you, I knew it couldn’t be true. I knew you couldn’t be as bad as everyone said you were.”
My lips purse with irritation. “People talk about me?”
“You have a bad reputation. You’re fodder for gossip, but it’s hard to sort the truth from the fiction.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Anyway, then I met you and I was torn between believing them and seeing something deeper. It’s why I offered to be your tutor.”
“And here I thought you agreed to tutor me because I was paying you.”
“The extra cash didn’t hurt, but…” She crushes the face of her palms against her head. “Whew, honesty man. It’s even hard for people like me sometimes. I was intrigued by you, and I wanted to get to know you so bad. You have all these faults, but yet you’re so magnetic. For whatever reason, I wanted to be close to you. For a split second in time, I even thought I liked you.”
That puts another halt in my stride. “What?”
“Don’t make me say it again,” she moans.
“Like me?” I nudge her with my elbow, brimming with a smile on the outside, but wrecked with confusion on the inside.
“You’re either a good person, or I have the worst instinct in the world.” She laughs again, this time louder and fuller than before. Darker even. “Some days I’m inclined to trust my gut, but most days I know better.”
“And how about today? How do you feel right now?” I lean in close to her, towering above her petite frame.
“My gut’s alive and kicking. You’ve done such terrible things. I know this, and still I want to take a deep dive into your world, into your mind, and maybe someday, your heart.”
“You’re an angel, Tyra.” I comb my fingers through her silky hair, reveling in the sensation of touch.
“I know.” She smirks knowingly.
“I’m the devil,” I warn her with a grim, husky whisper. “You’re water and I’m oil. Hell, you’re water and I’m lightning. Your reputation wouldn’t survive dating me.”
“I’m not scared. You might not know it yet, but I’m capable of handling myself.”
“I wish that were true.”
“Don’t pretend to know me, Brick.” She takes a step back, but her eyes never leave mine. “You know my name, and where I work. But that’s where I draw the line. Everything else is a mystery to you, just like you’re a mystery to me.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Too bad, because I’m taking you on a date.”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Game. Set. Match.
The thrill never subsides.
14
Apple
I’m relaxing on my couch, staring out the windows of the sliding glass door. With one hand, I cradle my tired head. With the other, I hold a half-empty glass of mimosa.
“Where’s your boo thing?” Brick asks as he pushes the front door open, shattering all sense of tranquility and peace.
“On his way over,” I say groggily and kick my feet out onto the couch. I will no longer allow him the power to make me uncomfortable in my own home.
“Really? It amazes me he hasn’t seen through your bullshit yet. If I were him, I’d get the fuck out of dodge before the shit hits the fan.”
“That’s what honesty does. It makes people trust you. Would you like some tutoring in the matter?”
“Pass.” He smacks at my feet, his way of telling me to move them. “Maybe next week when you’re back in my arms, my heart, and my bed. Maybe then, you can tutor me if you catch my drift.”
Disgusted, I recede from the couch as he drops down onto his ass. “Do you drool at night while you dream?”
“It’s not a dream. It’s reality. You’ll see.”
“You are out of your damned mind if you think you’ll succeed in seducing Tyra.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right.”
“Giving up already? Wise move.” I look for somewhere else to set, but my only option is the throne in the corner of the room. I’m hesitant, and decide to just stand in front of the patio door.
“Not exactly.” He kicks his feet onto the coffee table, and crumbs of dirt fall to the floor. “You see it’s not I who is chasing her. It’s she who is chasing me.”
I almost explode in laughter, but keep it contained. I want to navigate this conversation in the quickest way possible, so I can get him the hell out of my house before Jensen arrives. “Now, you’ve really crossed the threshold for mental stability. In other words, you’re living in an alternate reality if you really believe that.”
“As I was saying…” He coughs, and clears his throat. It’s all an act to add to the dramatic effect. “She is interested in me, because she thinks she can help me. Underneath all the debauchery, she thinks I’m an honest-to-God decent guy.” He laughs manically and kicks his feet in joy—reminiscent of a child during a tantrum—against my expensive table. “Can you fucking believe it?”
“It’s official. We’re living in the fucking Twilight Zone.”
“With the sparkly vampires?” His brow arches, and I’m not sure if I feel sorry for him because he doesn’t know the difference, or if he’s one of the lucky ones.
“Perhaps you would have an inkling of what I’m talking about if you didn’t spend every hour of your teen years whacking your dick to Cinemax.”
“Perhaps you’d know how to actually win one of these games—“
“I did win, remember? I won and I still got the man.” It’s important I remind him, because it’s apparent he has a convenient knack for forgetting the embarrassing sequence of events was actually a triumph in my corner. “Yeah, you remember real good. I can see it in your pathetic eyes.”
“You’re going to love me again someday, once the sickness wears off.”
“The sickness?”
“You fell in love with your target. You are beyond weak.”
“I’d rather be weak than alone,” I snap with a cruel slash of my tongue. The entirety of his face tightens and his eyes go hollow. “Shit, I’m sorry. Did that hit a sore spot?”
“I’m a fortress of stability.” He jumps to his feet, and erases any emotion that had become visible. It was all an illusion I didn’t actually see. “You can’t break me.” He shrugs. “I’m not like you.”
“Finally, you admit it.” I let out a glorified, over the top sigh of relief, but know he’s not finished yet and will rebut with a heavy dosage of bullshit.
“On the contrary. You are exactly like me, but I’m not like you.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re too dense to realize that, though.” I throw my hands in the air, frustrated and praying he’ll leave at any moment. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my breath.”
“Good point. Can you shut up now?” He waits for a typical bitchy response—perhaps waiting for a fist to fly his way—but when it doesn’t come, he continues on. “You’re going to need all the breath you can muster when you’re blowing me around this time next week.”
“I bite.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He winks, and I want to kick him in the dick again.
“I wouldn’t be making any plans if I were you,” I say, as if I had any intention of keeping my end of the bet. “You still have to convince poor Miss Young to sleep with you.”
“As I said bef
ore, progress is well past being made.” He steps to the door and places his hand on the knob. He pulls the door open slightly, but I know he’s not finished yet. “You see, I’m afforded the benefit of being a man. Sure, I have a bad reputation, but it’s not detrimental to my game. Women love bad boys, at least until they discover how black their hearts can truly be. A woman with a bad reputation is something else entirely. Society sees them as good for a one-night stand, and not much more. I thank God every fucking day that he had the wisdom to bless me with a dick. I’d be fucked if I were born with a vagina.”
“I’m going to vomit.”
“And I’m going to get out of here before you start retching.” He pulls the door all the way open and steps outside. “I don’t like to see my women like that.”
“You’re a pig.”
“Honk-honk. Got to go.” He hollers through the door before pulling it shut.
A wave of relief washes over me, but more than ever I know I have to win. In my case, the only way I can do so is by default. I must ensure Tyra stays the hell away from him over the next five days. I have my suspicions that he’s full of shit—as usual—but I’m not willing to risk failure on the whims of some blonde goody-tissue.
I pull my drink to my lips and gulp it down, wiping my lips dry when I’m done.
* * *
A knock on my door rips me out of a light sleep, and in my present state, I’m in no mood to deal with the bullshit. I spin my feet off the couch and march to the front door. I rip it open to find Jensen standing on the porch.
“Why’d you knock?” I ask groggily.
He shrugs. “Because it’s not my house?”
“Always the perfect gentleman, eh?”
“Most of the time, but I can get feisty.” He places his hands around my waist, and I’m not sure either way if it’s breaking the terms of our non-separation. I also don’t care.
“I love it when you’re feisty.” I lean my head back and push my hand through his hair. “But I’m not in the mood.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing world changing.”
“Well, I’m tired anyway.”
“That’s my baby Snorlax.” I pet my finger against his nose, and then instantly regret it—because he’s not a fucking toddler.
“Did you just use a Pokémon reference?”
“It was the cool thing back in the day.” I shrug and pull him toward the couch. “Jensen Moon, I have a question for you.”
“Ninety-four percent chance I have an answer for you.”
“Will you lay with me?”
“Without getting feisty?”
“At least until we wake up, and then we can reassess.”
“Sounds like a perfect Sunday afternoon.” He climbs onto the couch, lies down and sticks his hands out to pull me down to him. I lie facing away from him, and curled against the mold of his body. We fit perfect this way, and I take silent refuge in the safety his strong arms provide.
He pulls me closer and tighter with his head nuzzled against my neck. He has no intention of letting go, and it only serves to lights the fire under me. I will destroy Brick once and for all, in the process saving myself from who I used to be.
15
Brick
When I was told to wear swimming shorts, I knew we were heading to Lake Norman, a popular getaway on the outskirts of Charlotte. Heading into the end of the summer, now is the perfect time to make a visit to the popular boating and swimming spot. Somehow, this is the first time I’ve visited this summer. As a teen, I spent the majority of my summer’s here.
I met Tyra at the parking lot of the marina, and she guided me out onto the dock, where she led me aboard a fashionable pontoon boat. White leather seats outline the sides, and curve against the rear of the boat. In the back, where a corner seat connects the seats parallel to each other, is a small table set up with, what I believed to be, two glasses of Champaign.
When I took a quick sip, I realized I was slurping down sparkling white grape juice. Which is to be expected, because I’ve lead Tyra to believe I’m an alcoholic in need of saving. This one is my fault, I suppose, although there are certainly worse things in the world than wine for children, which is what I’ve always referred to sparking juice as.
I’m not a stranger to wine for kids, however. When I need to keep up appearances, but also need to pretend to be inebriated, I’ve often poured a glass of this special drink for show.
Today, however, I’m craving a real drink. “I’m not an alcoholic,” I admit, sitting across the white table from Tyra.
“You’re the one who said it.”
“I lied.”
She tilts her head and smiles. “Why would you lie about something like that?”
“You were walking away from the table and I panicked.” I shrug and throw my arms around the back of the cushioned seat. “It was my fight or flight response.”
“Your instincts could use some fine tuning.” Then, she remembers. “So you’re just an asshole for no reason, then?”
“Ouch.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way.”
“Is there any other way to take it?” I scratch my nose and point an accusing finger at her. “You cursed.”
“And?” she replies, as if it’s no big deal, which it wouldn’t be if she were anyone else. If she were anything but a perfect, virginal angel. Back at our disruptive brunch, the cursing from her lips felt natural, because she wanted to strangle me.
“I didn’t think you had it in you on a good day.”
“I’m not a child.”
“You’re pure, though. Innocent.”
“Remember that part where I said you didn’t know me? This is one of those parts.” Her gaze shifts to the shimmering water, but the shifting colors of the lake are no match for the swirling of her glowing eyes. “I’m not the girl you think I am.”
“Who the hell are you, then?”
“Isn’t that what dating’s for?”
“If I’m being honest, I’ve never properly dated anyone before,” I lie, but it’s only a marginal stretch of the truth. The last time I dated someone in the absolute definition of the word, I was in high school. She was my first real girlfriend, and she was the last. You only let someone like that into your life once, and any smart man quickly learns he’s better on his own.
“Right. I forgot. You’re not a serial dater, you’re a player.”
“Something like that.”
She chews into her lip and stands. “Do you how to swim, Brick Valmont?”
I take a quick glance into the water below. “I grew up on this lake.”
“Me too,” she says with a hint of reflection in her voice, but it passes quickly enough as she’s soon pulling her shirt over her head, exposing her abdomen first, and then a sparkling blue bikini.
I take a long gulp, because I figured I wouldn’t catch a peek of her untouched body until much later in the relationship, or at least much later in the week. Remember, I’m running this seduction in overdrive. She’s making it almost too easy for me.
She hooks her fingers into her white shorts and prepares to push them to her feet, but catches me staring before she fully commits. “Come on, Valmont. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a girl in a bikini before.”
“You’re beautiful,” I say softly, and I’m not sure if I’m saying it because it’s true, or if I’m saying it because it serves some other purpose. “I’m a player, remember? I’ve seen every shape and size,” I say, recommitting to wearing the mask I must wear to play this game to its fullest effect.
“Then stop drooling and take off your shirt.”
I rise to my feet, grab the hem of my shirt and begin a purposeful strip tease as I slowly glide my shirt over my cut abs. When I’ve pulled my shirt to my head, I stop and take a peek as her shorts pool at the floor of the boat. She reaches to pick them up and tosses them onto the seat, and when she turns around, I get an impressive look at the curve of her ass.
Her biki
ni bottom matches her top, and cuts around her flesh in all the right places. Her firm cheeks squeeze against the blue fabric, and an erection grows in my shorts. She catches me—again—as she turns back around. I pretend as if I’m not some kind of creep and rip my shirt over my head, then clap my hands in anticipation.
“I’d get in the water quick if I were you.” Her porcelain cheeks blush the faintest shade of red. “Or would you prefer the coeds in the neighboring boat catch a peak of your—“ She cuts herself off, but it’s clear she’s referring to my now rock-hard erection.
I grin and shake my head. “You keep surprising me.”
“You have no idea,” she says and before I can respond, she’s diving into the water.
I turn and brace my hands against the railing, waiting for her to emerge from the depths of the lake. She climbs to the surface with elegance and grace, and with a quick swipe of her hand, she pushes her hair from her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was an experienced vixen.
She possesses all these qualities I’ve engrained in Apple, but without the conviction or the bite. She’s a natural manipulator, and I could train her well. She flashes a smile up at me, and I take the bait, diving right in beside her.
My body cuts through the water, plummeting toward an endless bottom until I kick out, and begin my ascension back to my target. Closer, and closer, I rise through the depths until I see her feet kicking and wading in the water.
The sun beams bright through the gradient blues, and tinges of pale green of the calm water. She’s a silhouette waiting for accompaniment, and I’m anxious to fulfill that role, but I’m content in taking my time reaching her.
From underneath her, I study her. Her bikini clothes and protects her most intimate parts from unwanted voyeurs, but all I’m after is a peek at what’s underneath. Her legs scissor as she fights to stay afloat, and with each kick, the blue fabric shifts against her skin.
