Irrefutable (The Apprehensive Duet Book 2)

by Bracco, Kimberly

  At the time of the breakup, we had four more months left in our lease. Thank God, we hadn’t sent in the lease renewal yet. The lease was only in my name because Jason hadn’t had the greatest credit. So I was the only one legally responsible for making sure it got paid. My savings had been enough to about cover most of the remaining rent. The rent was two thousand for that now-awful apartment. I didn’t want to live there anymore, let alone pay two grand a month for it. It wasn’t bad when I was splitting everything with Jason. But shouldering the full rent, utilities, regular bills, student loans and now these huge credit card bills, I was wiped out! Yup, Jason had fucked me good! And not in the sense that either of us apparently wanted. Quinn had pushed me to go after Jason for the money, but it wasn’t worth it to me. I didn’t want to have to see him again and relive the memories of him banging that chick.

  When Quinn had offered me the spare bedroom in her apartment, I’d agreed straight away. Until she told me not to worry about paying rent. Then I freaked out on her.

  “I am not a fucking charity case, Quinn Taylor!" I told her.

  "I never said you were, Sweets!" She stared me down, daring me to argue. "But I don’t need the money and right now you do." Quinn has always had money to burn and didn’t see what the problem was. Her father is some hot shot investment something-or-other in the city. She works for him but also still gets a healthy monthly allowance from her parents.

  "Then I’m not moving in. If you don’t let me pay half the rent, then I’m not moving in here with you. I’ll find somewhere else to live."

  "Ugh, fine! How much do you want to pay then?" She huffed, clearly annoyed at my stubbornness.

  "Half," was my answer.

  Quinn picked her head up and looked at me seriously this time. "Ashley, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t let you pay half."

  "Why not?" I asked innocently.

  "Because you can't afford to pay half right now. So tell me how much will make you happy, and you can pay that. How about what you were paying with Jason? Will that make you happy?" she asked me, still not telling me how much the rent was.

  "Well, is the rent here two thousand?" I asked, knowing it most likely wasn’t.

  "No, it's not. I pay five grand a month here, and I know that you can’t afford twenty-five hundred a month. I really don’t want you to pay me at all to live here. My parents pay for this place, not me. Trust me, they can afford it."

  "But that isn’t the type of person I am, and you know it. I’m not mooching off my friend's rich parents," I answered, meaning every word.

  "Fine, tell me how much to get you to shut the hell up and move the fuck in here with me."

  "Umm, how about fifteen hundred?" I knew it was more than I could afford, but at least I would feel like I was paying my way, not taking advantage.

  "Fine! Whatever! But not a dollar more, and utilities are included," Quinn said, amending my offer and effectively ending the conversation. "Subject closed!" So I’d moved in with Quinn about two months ago.

  I was slowly climbing from the red into the black. My security deposit from the apartment in Jersey City had paid off one credit card Jason ran up and a little bit of the other. My savings had helped me cover the other half of the rent that used to be Jason's. I was still stretched slightly beyond my limit, but I was making do. Knowing I’m not the kind of girl to ask for it, Quinn tried to hide her help from me. She didn’t think that I’d noticed the extra twenties she stuck in my wallet from time to time or the meals that she made sure were there waiting for me when I got home so I didn’t need to pay for dinner. Quinn had gone through the trouble to try to help me discreetly, so I let it go, even though it bothered me. I suppose that’s what best friends are for.

  Quinn and I had met our freshman year of college and have been inseparable ever since. Seven years running, and I couldn’t be more thankful for the randomness of college roommate assignments. I only feel comfortable talking to Quinn about my "issues". I don’t think there are too many people out there more open-minded than she is. I hadn’t been all that upset over losing Jason himself, but the way it had ended and what he’d said to me had hit a nerve. At the time, I’d believed that I loved him, but now I’m not so sure. Thinking back, I probably stayed so long because I felt secure with him.

  His claim that if I weren’t such a prude, he would have been sexually satisfied still bothers me after all these months, brings out my insecurities. I’ve wondered if anyone I’d ever been with has been sexually satisfied. I’m not shy per se, but I guess I am kind of reserved. I usually just followed Jason's lead when we were intimate—missionary, on top, rarely taken from behind, and always in a bed. I’ve racked my brain for any hints he might have made about wanting more, but he never did, which was why his little stunt caught me completely by surprise.

  I’d wanted more too, still want more. I want someone to push me up against a wall, pin my hands over my head. Total Christian Grey elevator-style! I want someone to tell me how much they want me and how hard I make them. I want him to push me to my knees and give me no choice but to keep my mouth open as he shoves his cock in my mouth without even asking. I want him to tell me how good it feels to fuck me without remorse. I want all that and then some, but how the hell does one ask someone for that without coming off like a complete whore? Again.

  These are the thoughts running through my mind as I pull up to the practice facility of the New York Jets for the interview. I glance at the clock on my dashboard. Wow, great! I’m ten minutes late, sweaty, and most likely smell like a farm animal. On top of that, I’m also a little turned on by the thoughts that I’d just been entertaining. I check my rearview mirror and am pleased to see my makeup isn’t too bad. I fix my hair quickly and rush from the parking lot to go interview the playboy quarterback, Tanner Garrison.

  After doing my research yesterday, I’m even more hesitant about this interview. Pictures of the hot quarterback are all over the Internet. He's a local boy who grew up in Staten Island, so he’s definitely a big deal around here. The fact that he’s downright delicious, with bright green eyes and a messy crop of brown hair, doesn’t hurt either. You can tell he knows it, too. He’s always photographed with one particular bombshell—stunning, super skinny, great boobs, perfectly dressed in the latest fashions, and never a hair out of place.

  This Melissa Finnegan girl is in a lot of photos with him. Most articles say she’s his girlfriend. There are also plenty of pictures of him with other girls, and the captions always claim he’s stepping out on Melissa again. He sounds like a typical player. On and off the field. It’s disgusting, and I feel awful for Melissa if she is his girlfriend. I know how she feels. At least the whole world didn’t get a front row seat to witness my embarrassment. This should be a fun interview. I don't know the first fucking thing about football, and now I’m so worked up over Jason that I don’t know how I’ll put up with this playboy. I can’t stand that I have to interview someone who is nothing more than your everyday jock with a padded bank account and a sense of entitlement that makes him believe he can do whatever the hell he wants. Ugh, here goes nothing.