The Guys Are Props Club

by Ingrid Seymour

  “She said she was going to the restroom,” I defended myself. “What was I supposed to do? Go pee with her?”

  “Well, yes,” Jessica said as if that was the most appropriate answer to my question.

  “Of course not,” I protested. “That’s just wrong.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sebastian sat next to me, leaving an empty seat between him and Jessica. He had unbuttoned his shirt. A gold chain sparkled on top of smooth, tan skin.

  I tore my eyes away. “Um, nothing.”

  Sebastian’s chest rose up and down from the exertion of the dance. He emptied his water in one gulp, then set the empty bottle down, a huge smile plastered on his lips. He exuded energy and excitement, making me long for those days when I had been more carefree.

  After catching his breath, he snatched my hand without warning. “Your turn,” he said.

  He led me downstairs in spite of my protests. Jessica stayed behind, watching us leave with narrowed eyes. When we reached the dance floor, he pushed our way into the mass of bodies.

  “The energy is better in the middle,” he said in my ear, sending a shiver down my neck and under the front of my dress. My nipples hardened as the rumble of his deep voice seemed to crawl down my body.

  I cursed under my breath.

  His arms and hands slipped around my waist and back. I stiffened.

  “Relax,” he said, his lips only inches from my ear. “I don’t bite.” He pulled away and looked down at me. His sideways smile formed a dimple on his right cheek. “Well, I do sometimes, but I always ask for permission first.”

  I held my breath and looked away. What was I supposed to say to that?

  Luckily, merengue was playing, and I had a clue of what to do. Sebastian challenged me and pushed my meager skills to the limit with every move. His energy was contagious, and without realizing it, I started to enjoy the easy flow of my body, making me wonder if I was truly a natural.

  The song ended, and a new one began. When I realized it was a slow song, I shrugged apologetically and began to back away. Sebastian shook his head and pulled me into his arms.

  He coaxed my limp arms around his neck. “You’re not getting away, Madison. Can I call you that?”

  No one ever called me that, not even my mother, and now, hearing my full name in Sebastian’s deep voice, I wondered why I’d never liked it. It sounded rich, mature and sensual.

  He needed to stop calling me that!

  “No one calls me that,” I said. “I prefer Maddie.”

  “Madison it is. I like being different.” One of his hands slipped from my waist up my back, and he pulled me closer.

  Instinctively, I took a hand from his neck down to his chest. I pushed slightly, trying to keep some distance between us. His pectoral muscle flexed under my touch, making me even more aware of our closeness.

  His thumb started tracing circles on my back. Electricity traveled down my spine. My eyelids fluttered, and I found myself leaning closer into him, my cheek almost resting on his chest. The scent of his cologne combined with his own musk filled my lungs. He smelled delicious, clean and distinctively masculine.

  Lord, I had been right to want to get away from him. He was intoxicating. Something awakened in my belly, unfolding like a flower that has been forced to stay dormant for too long. My hormones raged, and I cursed the fact that I was nineteen and so at the mercy of my most primal instincts.

  “You smell heavenly,” Sebastian said into my hair. I snapped out of my trance and added a couple of inches between us.

  Our gazes met. He looked into my eyes as if searching for something. Slowly, he moved a hand to my shoulder, then slid it under my hair to the back of my neck. He lowered his head, wetting his lips. I knew, just knew, he was going to kiss me, and I stood there frozen, betraying all the promises I’d ever made to myself.

  My eyelids shut of their own accord.

  “Go out with me, Madison,” Sebastian said.

  Jolted by the velvety touch of his breath on my lips, my eyes sprang open.

  “What?” I had trouble processing his words as I battled my relief and disappointment over the non-kiss.

  “I want to go out on a date with you,” he said.

  “But Jessica, she . . . I thought you . . .”

  “I’m not interested in Jessica.” He looked down at the hair resting on my shoulder, his thick lashes veiling his eyes. Slowly, he lifted a hand and rubbed my hair between his fingers. “I love the color of your hair. It’s like it wants to be both blond and brown, but it can’t quite decide exactly which. It’s like the color of golden cinnamon.”

  With a swift flick of my wrist, I pushed my hair behind my back, releasing it from his grip. He made a small throaty sound to indicate his disappointment.

  “Dinner or a movie?” Sebastian asked.

  Something in me, the same thing that had forced me to close my eyes when I thought he was about to kiss me, made me want to throw all my promises to hell. It had been more than a year since David, I reasoned. I was not a naïve high schooler anymore. I could have a more mature relationship without risking getting my heart broken. I could stay emotionally unavailable while I enjoyed all the physical advantages of college dating. No strings attached.

  But as I tried to convince myself that I was capable of doing that, the rational part of me, the part that knew and understood my weaknesses, was shouting that it was impossible, that I was a soft-hearted fool, a weakling with a high coefficient of whippability. I would always be the one bringing the stray puppy home, the one standing up for the bullied kid, the one falling in love with the wrong guy.

  And that was just what Sebastian was: The wrong guy.

  I took a deep breath and let the rational side of me prevail. “It’s nice of you, but no.”

  Sebastian did a double-take.

  Not used to getting turned down, huh? That gave me a small level of sadistic satisfaction.

  He blinked. “May I ask why not?”

  May I? I wanted to roll my eyes, trying to convince myself that his manners were only a show he put on when he was playing his Casanova role. I refrained, aware of how childish eye-rolling would make me look.

  My own answer to his question disappointed me, though. I found myself giving him the lamest excuse ever.

  “Because I don’t date,” I muttered.

  As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I wanted to suck them back in. To shut this case closed, I should’ve said something along the lines of because you’re not my type. That would have done it.

  I tried to say it, to tack it on to the end of my lame excuse. Because I don’t date AND you’re not my type. But I couldn’t put the lie out there. Even after all the practice I got with Steve last semester, I still hadn’t become a smooth liar.

  “You don’t date?” Sebastian looked surprised, then his initial shock gave way to skepticism. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  As his mind seemed to process what I’d just said, he suddenly stuck one of his legs between mine and gently made me bend backward, dipping me in a graceful dance move I would have never thought myself capable of accomplishing. When he brought me back to an upright position, our bodies snapped together. His chest was solid against my breasts. His leg, still between mine, pressed gently upward, bringing a restless ache between my thighs. I kicked one foot out and untangled myself, glad, for the second time tonight, that my blush wasn’t noticeable in the dim lighting. The control over my body seemed flimsy at best.

  Sebastian continued guiding me around the dance floor, seemingly unaware of the effect he was having on me, but I knew better. Players never left anything to chance. They gave this sort of move a great deal of thought.

  Rule No.3: A player relies on well-tested, scripted moves to create physical contact that appears accidental or required by the situation. He is acutely aware of the effect his tactics have.

  “So why is that?” he asked.

  I had to concentrate very hard to regain the thread of o
ur conversation. Finally, I remembered we were talking about my “no dating" policy.

  ”I have better things to worry about,“ I snapped, immediately regretting my outburst and how childish it made me sound. Feeling like a spineless plush toy in the hands of a guy I’d just met had an unsavory effect on me. With a deep breath, I tried to regain my cool. I was an adult, and I could act like one.

  “You see,” I added more calmly, “I’m very busy. I have a job and a full course load. On top of that, I’m on scholarship and, to keep it, I have to maintain a certain GPA. That leaves no room for . . . extracurricular activities.” I smiled, feeling proud of how rational I sounded.

  “You must have some time,” he said. “You’re here tonight.”

  “Well . . . this is just the first week of school. Things haven’t kicked into gear yet.”

  “True,” he admitted. “I have to say it is a shame. I would really love to go out with you.” The corners of his mouth lifted toward his eyes in a sad smile. There seemed to be real regret in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but feel flattered by the idea that a guy like Sebastian wanted to go out with me. And maybe, if I didn’t have a heart made out of play dough, a heart so ready to love even when I told it not to, I might have enjoyed going out with him.

  Suddenly his face lit up. “But,” he paused, quirking one side of his mouth, “that doesn’t mean I can’t get to know you. Hopefully, you have no rules against making friends.”

  “Of course not,” I said, already determined to avoid him at all costs. U.C.I.’s campus was big enough. The only problem was English class, which we shared. I was still hoping he’d dropped the class, but if he hadn’t, that was okay. I could handle one little class.

  ***

  At some point during the night, we lost Cristina to a group of her admirers, so, on our way back to Irvine, Jessica sat in the front with Sebastian, which delighted her to no end.

  Alcohol had only made Jessica’s talkativeness worse. She told Sebastian about high school and being a popular cheerleader. She shared everything there was to share about her parents, even the make and model of their expensive cars. She listed all the foreign countries she’d visited on her childhood vacations, and ran out of breath going over her favorite Hollywood stars.

  Every so often, when Jessica wasn’t paying attention, Sebastian looked at me through the rearview mirror and crossed his eyes. Each time, I barely refrained from laughing. Having been at the receiving end of many of Jessica’s monologues, I totally understood his exhaustion. She was a handful.

  When we got to our dorm and stepped out of Sebastian’s car, Jessica gave me a pointed look and quickly flicked her eyes toward the building’s entrance.

  Getting the hint, I yawned loudly. “Thanks for driving, Sebastian. It was fun.”

  “I’m glad,” he gave me a warm smile, and I felt bad for what I was about to do to him.

  “I’m so tired.” I stretched. “I have to work tomorrow—or today, I guess. Anyway, I’m off to bed. You kids continue your conversation.” I practically ran into the building. When I looked back, Sebastian narrowed one eye at me, clearly aware and resentful of the purpose of my escape.

  As soon as I entered the room, I closed the door behind me and ran to the window. Pulling back the curtain, I peeked at the street below.

  Sebastian’s black Mercedes was gone.

  Chapter 9

  I stood by the window for about five minutes, unsure of what I was doing. It wasn’t until Jessica didn’t come up and an ache of disappointment unraveled inside me that I realized what I’d been expecting.

  What an idiot I was!

  Of course he would go with Jessica. I had turned him down. What was I expecting? Disappointment quickly led to anger. I got undressed in a huff, wishing I could find that part of me that always expected the best in people so I could surgically remove it.

  I changed into a stretched-out t-shirt and cotton shorts and slipped into bed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I concentrated on my breathing and tried to clear my mind. My ears felt stuffy from the loud music in the club, and the echo of the slow song Sebastian and I danced to resonated in some corner of my brain.

  Suddenly, his green eyes appeared in front of me, and I felt the ghost of his thumb tracing circles on my back. Something tightened between my thighs as I remembered his leg pressed against me. My back arched as if to meet the pressure there. My heart kicked up its rhythm, making blood flow to all the wrong places. My nipples ached.

  Hell, no self-respecting college girl could sleep with hormones raging through her body like stray bullets. Unable to fight the need, I slipped a hand under my waistband. I had tried this before, and although it had never worked, I had a feeling this time might be different.

  I let out a little gasp when I discovered how wet I was. Throwing my head back due to the intense feeling, I moved my hand in small circles. Sensation rippled outward, sending goose bumps down my legs. A tense ache throbbed in my center, begging to be released. My breath came in short, shallow bursts. I pushed my hips into my hand, finding that my ministrations weren’t enough.

  All my focus gathered into one small bundle of nerves. I moved my hand more rapidly, my hips keeping the same pace, as I remembered the feel of Sebastian’s hard chest under my fingers. I was at the verge of something huge, feeling as if I’d reached the top of a rollercoaster and was waiting for the inevitable free-fall.

  But like it always did, it all soon fell flat.

  Frustrated, I gave up and rolled to my side. I was still awake when Jessica came in two hours later.

  ***

  The next morning, I rolled over and immediately freaked out when I looked at the alarm clock. It was 10 a.m. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Jessica was already up, sitting in front of her computer. She had a set of huge, pink headphones on. They were lined with fur and studded with tiny rhinestones. She turned to face me when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye.

  “Good morning, sleepy head.” She removed her headphones.

  “Hey.” I walked to the single-serve coffee machine on my desk.

  “Sleep good?”

  “Yeah, you?”

  “Dreamy,” Jessica said.

  After getting my coffee cup, I filled it up with water at the sink in the bathroom. “Want a cup?” I asked as I poured the water into the machine.

  “No, I’m good.”

  I popped in a K-cup of dark roast and pressed the button. As I waited for it to brew, Jessica wiggled her eyebrows at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Sebastian kissed me,” she said.

  I turned around and faced the coffee machine to hide my reaction from Jessica. “He did,” I said, my eyebrows gathering above my nose in an unexpected, angry frown. I had no business feeling this way. I fought to compose myself.

  “He’s a really good kisser, in case you’re wondering.”

  “Good for him.” I didn’t like the bitterness that came out with the comment. “I’m going to take a shower.” My words were hurried. Picking up my cup of coffee, I headed toward the bathroom.

  “Maddie,” Jessica said.

  I replied over my shoulder so she couldn’t see my face. “Yeah?”

  “Everything okay?” she asked, stretching the words out cautiously.

  “Sure. I have a busy day. Work and all.” I whirled and went to get ready. I couldn’t very well tell her that when it came to Sebastian, jealousy was becoming a regular occurrence. He had shown interest in me, had even asked me out, and that gave me the mistaken impression that he owed me some sort of . . . something. I wasn’t even sure what, because those expectations made no sense. I had turned him down. He owed me nothing at all. We barely even knew each other, and that was how it would remain.

  ***

  After showering, I dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a form-fitting olive tank top and my well-worn TOMS. As I left, messenger bag across my chest, I waved at Jessica. She watched me leave with a certain tightness around her blue eyes. />
  I considered telling her that Sebastian had asked me out. The sisterhood rules required me to be honest with her, but I didn’t want to open that can of worms.

  If I told her, she would want to know why I didn’t say yes, why I didn’t go along with it and Play Sebastian. That would require me to confess that I didn’t want to Play guys anymore. If she even suspected I felt that way, she would want to know why, and that was something else I didn’t want to discuss with her. I had the feeling it wouldn’t end well if I confessed that I considered Plays to be wrong. I doubted she would appreciate my ideas on the morality of her dating games. Normally, if you tell a friend they’ve turned into the person they hate most, they don’t take it well.

  After spending a couple of hours at the library working on my biology homework, I grew hungry and headed to the food court at the student center for my first meal of the day. I was really in the mood for sushi, but I could only enjoy that kind of treat about once a month. Mmm, some spicy tuna rolls would have been fantastic. My mouth watered.

  I went through the line, swiped my FlexDine card (thank God for full-ride scholarships because there was no way I could afford the exorbitant prices), and filled my tray.

  I found a small table and started devouring my chicken strips while I read The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It was one of the reading assignments for English class, and for once, I liked the selections the professor had made. Even if it was a bleak book, I was enjoying having something more contemporary to read.

  As I dipped a French fry in a little tub of ketchup, I looked around the food court. My breath caught when I spotted Sebastian, sitting several rows across from me. He was talking animatedly with two guys. The fact that both of his table companions were extremely handsome wasn’t lost on me and promptly reminded me of Rule No.4: Players normally travel in packs. One of them was blond and thick as a tree. The other one thin in a super model kind of way.