Crushed (Rushed #2)

by Gina Robinson

  "Looks like more to me. Why are you letting the other girls hit on him?"

  I shrugged. "Long story." I didn't feel like explaining.

  "Ah." He sounded sympathetic, like he understood my reluctance. He took another drink of beer. "You look thirsty. Can I get you something?"

  "Wow! I've made it past the guardian." I winked at him. "Diet cola if you have it."

  "You got it." He grabbed a two-liter bottle on the table next to him and a plastic cup and poured me one. "Nothing stronger? I can add a shot of rum. No extra charge."

  I sighed and made a partial confession. "I don't drink. For now."

  "MIC?" He grinned. "Don't answer. I get it. Been there myself. When's your twenty-first?"

  "January." I liked him, this Logan.

  The shrill call of a whistle silenced the party. Dakota jumped up on a chair and looked right at Logan and me, his eyes snapping. "I call a foul on this whole party. Everyone get a drink, or I'm going to have to eject you all from the game!"

  The crowd erupted in laughter. Dak jumped off the chair and started toward me.

  I needed a second to get my jealousy and anger at him under control. "It's been a pleasure, Logan. Anyone gets out of hand over here and gives you grief about the mixer situation, call me. I have a whistle." I raised my glass to him and headed for the bathroom before Dakota could catch me.

  Fortunately, it was empty. Inside, I locked the door and took several deep breaths to ward off a wave of nausea. Crap, I hadn't even drunk anything. When had I gotten so anxious over a guy?

  When I came out of the bathroom, Dakota was nowhere in sight. If he'd left me alone here, I was going to kill him. Hey, he'd tried to kill me. It was my turn for a murder attempt.

  In the corner, a girl was doing a keg stand, with two buff zombies holding her by the legs. She slapped the keg. Someone pulled the beer hose out of her mouth. The two zombies helped her off. And spotted me.

  One of them pointed at me. "Human! Must catch and infect her with beer." He lumbered toward me, doing a zombie walk.

  For zombies, they were surprisingly fast. I couldn't outrun them. It didn't help that my path was blocked by a couple of football players.

  One of them grabbed me. "Hey, ref. We need an official ruling on the keg. Is it regulation?"

  The zombies grabbed me and hauled me off.

  "No!" I laughed and shook my head, protesting too feebly. Loving the spotlight. "No, I can't." A beer sounded so good.

  They overpowered me and pulled me to the keg. "Up you go!" One of the football players grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder.

  Before I could protest or escape, two zombies were holding me upside down by my ankles over the keg. Someone else was grabbing the spout and the line. I wanted a drink in the worst way. I grabbed the top of the keg and opened my mouth for the spout as the blood rushed to my head.

  "Roughing the ref! Automatic ejection." Dak elbowed his way through the crowd, fire in his eyes. He was ready to fight. He grabbed me by the waist. The guys holding me let go as Dakota flipped me over his shoulder.

  "Hey, man, we were just helping a lady to a drink."

  "Shut the fuck up." Dakota held me tight.

  I wrapped my legs around his chest and straightened up, with my arms around his neck. He had the most gorgeous eyes. Flashing with anger, they were as intoxicating as a rush of beer.

  I was seated high enough on him that I looked down at him, breathing hard. Wanting him. Happy.

  I didn't know if he saw it. In that moment, he was my hero.

  Stone-cold sober, I leaned down, pressed my lips to his, opened my mouth to him, and kissed him with all the heady passion I was feeling.

  Chapter Nine

  Dakota

  Morgan's perfume filled my senses. Her naked butt cheeks felt round and firm in my hands. My pulse raced. My head spun. I lost my senses and kissed her back. Hard. If she was going to play this game with me, I was going to engage. Her hair tumbled around my face. The tops of her breasts teased my chin. Damn, I wanted to touch and kiss them.

  She kept me otherwise engaged, kissing me back, tickling the top of my mouth with her tongue until I shivered with pleasure. Nibbling my lips playfully.

  "Referee PDA. Break it up! Break it up!" Collin came out of nowhere, suddenly beside us. "Get a room." He slapped me on the back. "You can use mine." He was laughing.

  People around us clapped.

  I was breathing hard as we broke the kiss. Morgan slid down me like I was a stripper pole, until her feet touched the ground. Her lips were puffy from being kissed and her eyes round and wide. She looked sexy as hell.

  There was a moment where I was tempted to take Collin up on his offer. Then I remembered Jordan. I shook my head and grabbed Morgan's hand. "Thank you for the offer, dude. We'll have to pass. Other parties to referee." I winked at him. "I have my own room."

  I pulled Morgan through the crowd to the exit and grabbed my coat out of a pile by the door. At the door, I paused and blew my whistle. "Party on!"

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her down the stairs and outside the building to the parking lot. It was freezing outside. She immediately began to shiver.

  I wrapped her in my coat and took her by the arms. "A keg stand in front of all those people? What the shit were you thinking in there?"

  "The zombies got me. They dragged me to it. What could I do?" She smiled and made her flirty, pouty face at me.

  I swore beneath my breath. She could twist me around her little finger. Make me forget Jordan. Make me do something stupid. "I can't leave you alone for a minute. I'm taking you home before we both do something we'll regret."

  She stared at me. "What will we regret, Dakota?"

  "Stop it, Morgan." I propelled her through the parking lot. "You know damn well what. I thought you weren't into hookups anymore."

  She grinned back at me. "I'm not."

  Fickle woman. Cock tease. I could have called her a lot of things. "You're right, Morgan. I'm not boyfriend material."

  I sure as hell wasn't being a good one to Jordan.

  Morgan

  Late. Late. Late. Late! For a very important date—with my period. Where was Aunt Flow? And why wasn't she visiting?

  On Sunday morning, I felt hung over and desperately tired. My breasts were sensitive to the touch. The houseboys cooked breakfast on Sunday mornings. Seth made scrambled eggs. His weren't as good as Zach's. But he was a pretty good breakfast cook. I gagged at the site of the eggs when he plated me up a bunch.

  "Not you too, Morgan!" Seth shook his head. "Why do I even bother cooking the morning after Halloween?" He handed me a piece of dry toast. He leaned in and whispered, "I thought you were on probation and not supposed to be drinking."

  I wasn't in the mood to explain, so I shrugged and let him think what he wanted. For not having had a single drop of anything stronger than pop, I was doing a great imitation of a hangover and keeping up my party rep without any effort.

  Sunday slid into Monday and Tuesday. No period. Radio silence from Dakota. It was like he was avoiding me after that kiss. Fine. Screw him if he couldn't recognize what a good time we'd had together. Yes, I was being irrational. Yes, I knew I was the one who'd said getting together with former hookups was a bad idea. But there had been something between us on Halloween night. A spark. Chemistry. I'd had so much fun with him. I couldn't get him out of my mind.

  He saw it. I knew he did. And he was running like a scared chicken from anything more serious than a casual boink. Verifying my reasoning to stay away from him. Sadly, being right wasn't the same thing as being happy.

  I'd finished my active birth control pills six days before. I'd taken every one. I couldn't. It was unthinkable. And then I remembered the night of the powder puff football game. All the drinking and throwing up I'd done. I'd taken my pill the next day. Had I thrown it up, too?

  I was scared. And alone. I walked past the Tau Psi house, Dakota's frat, hoping to get a glimpse of him. It was stupid. I was being
stupid.

  He could be so funny and sweet. He could be so totally aggravating. Just when I was beginning to really want him, maybe, he'd met my low expectations. Now I might be pregnant—with his baby. He was the only guy I'd been with. It had to be him.

  I'd been late before. Sometimes, even on the pill, stress delayed things. I could have bought a home pregnancy test and found out for sure. If I wasn't pregnant, finding out would bring the menses on in hours. At least, that was what had happened in the past.

  If I was pregnant…

  I couldn't face it. I didn't want to think about it. Dak would think…

  What did I care what Dak would think? He'd brushed me off.

  In class that afternoon, I overheard two girls whispering. "At least you can tell Brad and he'll stand by you," one of them whispered to the other. She paled and stared into her lap. "I'm not even sure who."

  You know how when something affects you, you seem to notice it everywhere? Where before it was invisible to you, a non-issue?

  Everywhere I went, it was the same. I stopped by The College Grind to get something to wake me up. A girl in the corner booth was crying. "I've already had one abortion. My parents will kill me if I'm pregnant again. I'm two weeks late."

  I wanted to cover my ears and run. I went to the store to get toothpaste because the brand I had made me gag. Yeah, bad sign. Like maybe it wasn't the toothpaste. Denial was a powerful thing. Right now, I was the queen of it.

  I tried to avoid it, but I had to walk by the row with the contraceptives and pregnancy tests. A guy was helping his girlfriend pick one out. He studied the boxes, reading them with a serious look on his face while she bit her nails and held his hand.

  I went back to the house to study. In the living room, one of the sophomores was consoling another. "I'm late," I heard as I walked by. And she didn't mean with a paper.

  It was like the world was sending me one huge, cosmic message. Morgan Peterson—you're late. Too late for everything.

  I went too my room and plunked onto the bed. Seconds later, Victoria tapped on my door. "Morgan? How are you doing?" She slid in and plopped onto the bed next to me.

  "Hanging in," I said. "You?"

  "Late."

  "What?" I sat up. Her ominous tone gave her away.

  She nodded. "As my twin, you're sworn to secrecy."

  I nodded my agreement.

  "I know of half a dozen girls in the house who are in the same boat. It's like everyone I know is worried. It's an epidemic." She pursed her lips.

  "I know," I said without thinking.

  "Not you too?" Her eyes were wide with sympathy.

  "Just a few days," I said, covering. "It's nothing. I've heard the whispers. We've probably just all synced up."

  Victoria shook her head. "Menstrual synchrony is a myth based on one faulty study from the seventies. The methodology was all flawed. I could bore you with the details."

  "Spare me. I believe you." I forced a smile. She couldn't know she'd just crushed one of my best denial rationales.

  "Periods are random and randomly sync up as a result. Anyway, that doesn't affect us here. Most of us are on the pill. You want to know the real culprit?" She sighed. "Too much celebrating on Homecoming Weekend." She paused. "Sometimes I wish we'd never won that powder puff tourney."

  Celebrating had only tangentially been the cause of my problem. But I agreed. "What are you going to do?"

  "Wait a week and hope for the best." She sighed. She had a serious boyfriend and could lean on him. "See what happens."

  "Are you going to tell Darrel?"

  She shook her head. "Not yet."

  My cell phone rang the Dad tone. I rolled my eyes. "My dad. I have to get this."

  Victoria rolled her eyes, too, and laughed. "Making his plans for the weekend. Dads! Last minute."

  I sighed. "Fortunately, he's had his room booked for a year." I grabbed the phone as Victoria let herself out.

  "Dad."

  "Morgan. How's my girl?"

  He used to say, How's my baby girl. I missed that, but I was glad to hear his voice.

  "Staying out of trouble?" He didn't sound like he trusted I was.

  He had good reason not to.

  "Of course," I said.

  "No drinks over the Halloween weekend?"

  "Dad!"

  "I have to check. It's my duty as your father. You have a great future in front of you, little one."

  It was like he'd slipped and used his pet "little one" phrase with me. Soon I wouldn't be the little one anymore.

  "I don't want you to ruin it," he said.

  Like I did. Would getting pregnant in college count?

  "Your grandma and I will be there Saturday morning around eleven. Your stepmom reminded me we'd better make reservations for dinner on Saturday or take our chances with fast food. Pick someplace nice. Someplace with a good bar. I'll need a drink if I'm going to have to deal with your grandmother all weekend."

  I didn't think Dad realized what he was asking of me. "Will do." It was like him to dump the task on me. "I don't know why you don't get along with Grandma. She's great."

  "She's not your mother." He sounded grim, almost like a chastened boy.

  Sadly, I did know what he meant.

  Dakota

  My dad called while I was walking out of CRJU 301, Criminal Law and Judicial Practices. "Hey."

  "Hello, Dakota. Your mom reminded me to call and confirm our plans for the weekend. I had my admin make dinner reservations for Saturday. I'll be arriving too late for dinner on Friday. But I expect a good frat party. The Tau Psis know how to party, I hear."

  That was a jab at me. "So I hear."

  "Well, good. It's been ages since I've played a rousing game of beer pong." He paused. "We have good seats for the game. Forty-five-yard line. We'll pre-game at the university tailgate in the field house. President Lawrence will be there." He paused. "How are you doing, in the girl department? Moving on?"

  Dad asked the most inappropriate questions. What he meant was—was I seeing anyone new and suitable? To his credit, maybe he didn't want me to be brokenhearted forever. When a girl stomped on my heart, in his limited view, I tended to run over innocent friends and drunk girls.

  "I'm doing okay." I hesitated, thinking of Morgan. "I'm making a friend or two."

  "Are you? Great! I'd like to meet one of these friends. They're pretty, I hope."

  "Totally hot, Dad."

  "That's my boy!"

  We talked while I walked for a few more minutes before we hung up. I stared at my phone, thinking. I'd been avoiding Morgan again. But now, I was a weak fool. I hit her number before I could think too hard on it.

  "Hey, stranger." The sound of her voice made my heart race.

  "Hey, yourself," I said. "You've been quiet. Fingers broken? You haven't texted me."

  "I haven't had any sobriety emergencies." Her voice had a smile in it.

  "Do we need them for an excuse to talk?"

  She laughed. "We've moved past frenemies and are friends now? Is that what you're implying?"

  "Maybe."

  "I like a decisive man." She laughed again. "So why are you calling now? What's up?"

  "Sobriety emergency."

  "You're horrible! Lead me on that we're friends and then hit me with a sobriety emergency."

  "This call is doing double duty. I have an emergency and it was a great excuse to call a friend."

  "What's your emergency?"

  "Dad's Weekend," I said. "My old man wants to party and play beer pong. We're having a tourney at the house Friday night. Part of the Dad's Weekend entertainment."

  She laughed. "Mine told me to make reservations at a restaurant that has a good bar. Do you think they realize what they're asking? Or are they totally oblivious." She put on a dad voice. "Do as I say, not as I do."

  I laughed. "You sound just like my dad. Scary."

  She laughed too.

  "Who knows how the dad brain works?" I said. "With father
s like ours, we need to stick together." I smiled to myself. "The booze will be flowing and temptation will be everywhere. I need the sobriety buddy system more than ever."

  She paused. "You realize what you're asking? I can't hang with you and ditch my dad and grandma. Your plan means introducing each other to the dads. And you to my grandma."

  "Dad said he wants to meet my friends."

  "He doesn't know them?"

  "He meant my friends who are girls. My new friends who are girls, if you get my meaning. He hasn't met you."

  "Oh."

  "It's nothing serious, Morgan. He's afraid I'll slip into a dark depression over Alexis and screw up again. All he wants to see is that I'm hanging with other girls, even if they're just friends."

  "I hate to bring this up." Her voice dripped reluctance. "But you do know what you're asking, right?"

  "What?"

  "Do I have to spell it out? You almost ran over me. Even as distracted as he is with the new baby coming, you're not exactly my dad's favorite person. I mean, for me, it's fine. Hanging with you will keep the heat off me. It will all be directed at you."

  "I thought of that. It's worth the risk," I said. "I want to make amends. Let him see that I'm not a bad guy. I made a mistake and I'm correcting that."

  "I don't know." She hesitated. "Dad can be pretty mean when he's in protection mode.

  "I can handle him, Morgs. I promise. It's an awesome plan. Our dads will see how mature we're being. Forgive and forget. Maybe we'll even get written up in the campus newspaper as a human interest story. One of those stories that bring tears to people's eyes and reaffirms their belief in the innate goodness of human nature. He could have killed her. Now they're best friends."

  She laughed again. "Right. I never knew you were such an optimist."

  "Not an optimist. Just a positive guy. What do you say?"

  "You're going to the game, I assume. What about the tailgate party at the field house?"

  "VIP tickets," I said.

  "Us too. Dinner?"

  "Just Saturday night. Dad's admin got us reservations. I can text her and ask her to add three to it. Your grandma will be joining us?"

  "Yeah." She paused again. "You're sure about this?"