If You Were Mine

by Jennifer Sucevic

  And some stuffy lawyer to boot.

  The guy quickly slides in the same direction which means I find myself blocked yet again. This time, my eyes immediately arrow to his. That’s when I notice the small smirking smile plastered across his face and it suddenly occurs to me that this little dance we’re doing is in no way accidental.

  As our eyes catch, he offers me a roguish smile.

  One that’s meant to charm.

  It falls short by like a mile.

  “Hey there, beautiful.”

  Cue the mental groaning. I am so not into this. All I want is to head back to the relative safety of the table. Impatiently I give him a polite smile hoping this won’t take too long.

  Even though it’s been two months since Tyler and I broke up, hooking up is the very last thing on my mind. When I finally am ready to jump back in there again, it won’t be with some drunk college kid who has zero idea that women have a little something called a clit. Not to mention where this so called clit is located.

  I dealt with that back in college.

  I’m not interested in reliving that part of the experience all over again.

  At this point, I’m only interested in men who have, at the very least, a rudimentary understanding as to how female orgasms are achieved. And are willing to take the time and prove it. Let’s just say that Tyler had a working knowledge of female anatomy but wasn’t always willing to put forth the necessary time and effort into achieving those goals.

  I met Tyler about three and a half years ago through a co-worker at North Hill. We were introduced at a summer barbeque and just seemed to hit it off. At the time, he ticked off all the standard criteria on my mental list.

  Educated. Check.

  Within the same age bracket. Check. I’m not into older men like Harper.

  Same core values. Check

  Not only had a job, but was career-focused. Double check.

  Although here’s where I’ve learned the difference between dedicated to one’s profession (me) and damn near obsessed (Tyler). Over the years it finally became a point of contention between us and eventually was one of the reasons we decided to part ways.

  Not wanting to waste this guy’s time or, more importantly- mine, because what he’s hoping might happen between us, is so not going to happen, I get right to the point.

  “Sorry, I’m not interested.” That being said, I quickly try maneuvering around him but just like before, he shifts his body, blocking my escape.

  Again.

  Even though he continues smiling at me, my brows lower over my eyes.

  I’ve just told this guy in no uncertain terms that I’m not interested in whatever he’s offering.

  Shouldn’t that be enough?

  He holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender as if to show me that he’s perfectly harmless.

  Hey- know a better way to show me that you’re harmless?

  Actually try accepting when I tell you I’m not interested. That would actually go a long way towards proving your point.

  Is that concept really so very difficult to grasp?

  Apparently it is.

  Because this guy doesn’t appear to be budging anytime soon. Which is just plain annoying.

  “Hey, I just wanted the chance to get to know you.”

  A snort slips out. “Riiiiiight, I’m sure that’s exactly what you’re all about.” Sighing, I try one more time to maneuver around him. I don’t want to get nasty here, but I will if I have to.

  Just like before, he blocks my escape route before giving me a knowing grin. My guess is that since approach one didn’t work, he’s going with a different tactic. “Come on, sweetheart, you can level with me.”

  Slowly his eyes rake over my body and even though I’m not wearing anything revealing- we’re talking high neck sweater and jeans- he makes me feel like I’m standing in front of him completely naked.

  “You’re obviously here looking to get laid. You’re a little too…”

  Unconsciously my brows wing up because I know exactly what word is about to fly out of his mouth.

  “Mature,” he finally says around a broad, patronizing smile, “you’re a little too mature to be hanging out in a bar like this if you’re not interested in finding someone to hook up with.” He shrugs as if he’s doing me a big favor by laying it all out on the table. “I’m just offering up my services, is all. Plus, I’m into cougars. Or MILF’s. Or whatever it is that you are.”

  Cougar?

  MILF?

  I’m not even thirty! I’m twenty-nine. And some change. I’m nowhere near cougar age. Isn’t that like forty or something?

  Instead of going off on him, I inhale a deep calming breath. “Exactly how old do you think I am?”

  He scrutinizes my face. “Twenty-eight?”

  Close enough.

  Rather matter-of-factly, I ask, “Didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s impolite to point out a woman’s age?”

  He blinks in response.

  “Well, I’m going to do you a favor, one you don’t deserve, and tell you right now that it’s incredibly rude to bring up a woman’s age. And you certainly don’t refer to her as a cougar or MILF.” Shaking my head, I add, “In the future, I wouldn’t open with you trying to do any woman a favor by sleeping with her. That’s just plain asinine. If you actually find a woman willing to climb into bed with you, especially after you’ve opened your mouth, she ought to be cherished and revered. Not to mention thanked. Profusely.”

  “So… just to be clear, you’re not interested in hooking up with me tonight?”

  Slowly I shake my head. “Not even for a minute. I’m just here to watch the band, not get laid. Now that we’ve cleared that up, you can kindly step aside.”

  When he still doesn’t budge, my annoyance suddenly ignites in earnest. With a bit more exasperation, I bite out, “Look, I’m not interested. I just want to get back to my friend.”

  Instead of leaving, he glances in Sophie’s direction before turning his attention back to me.

  Another smarmy smile settles over his lips. I’m sure he thinks that it ratchets up his cuteness factor. It doesn’t. The only thing it’s ratcheting up is the likelihood of him getting smacked. I know at this point that whatever words are about to tumble out of his mouth are going to completely push me over the edge.

  “Hey, if it makes you more comfortable, I’m cool with her joining us.” His eyes rake over me yet again. “The more the merrier, I always say.”

  Ewww.

  Guys like this are the absolute worst.

  My eyes narrow. “Are you being serious right now?”

  He looks hopeful and oddly full of confidence. Which is disturbing on so many levels. Especially after everything I’ve just said to him. “Well, that depends… are you into it?”

  Um, no.

  I point to all the unhappiness that is now settled across my face. “Does it really look like I’m remotely into anything you’re saying right now?”

  His look is contemplative.

  Exactly how much has this dude had to drink tonight that he can’t pick up on clear social cuing? Even my second grade students can understand that a frowny face aimed in their direction means that someone is unhappy with them.

  Note to self- never step foot in another college bar again. No matter how much Noah begs and pleads. He’s just going to have to step up the venues he playing at if he wants my ass in the audience.

  Because this is so not worth it.

  Just as I open my mouth to blast him, a thick muscular arm snakes its way around my body before I find myself hauled up against a hard male one. Blinking in confusion, I stare up into the most gorgeous gunmetal gray eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re crinkled with humor. He gives me a little wink as if we’re co-conspirators rather than perfect strangers.

  Even though his words are directed at me, he turns his attention to the idiot standing in front of me. “Hey babe, I’ve been looking all over for you. Where’ve you been
?”

  Stay

  Chapter One

  Shaking my head, I watch as my roommate, Brooklyn, busts out all her best moves on the makeshift dance floor. She’s the tall blonde dancing with her hands twisting in the air almost as if she’s doing a very sad Stevie Nicks impersonation.

  I almost wince.

  Yeah… it’s that bad.

  If I had to guess, I would say that Brooklyn isn’t feeling the slightest bit of pain at the moment. I’m sure the liquid refreshment currently on tap is to be thanked for that. I’m hoping tomorrow will be a completely different story. She deserves the hangover-to-end-all-hangovers for dragging me to this God awful excuse to drink beer, get rowdy, and troll for a hook up or two.

  My plan for the remainder of this evening consists of staying inconspicuously tucked away in the back corner and sipping my tepid diet soda because being a girl and walking around a drunken fraternity party is apparently an unofficial invitation to have your ass groped by some random dude. Or should I say random dudes because this has now happened twice. And a third time will very likely push me right over the edge of my douchebag tolerance limit for the evening.

  The objective tonight is to keep an eye on Brooklyn and when the clock strikes twelve, drag her ass out of here… and I’m totally okay if it’s kicking and screaming. Impatiently I glance at my cell phone for probably the twentieth time in the last two hours.

  It’s only eleven.

  This has officially become painful.

  I’m unfortunately snapped out of my dark thoughts on just how I will torture Brooklyn when a stray hand slides its way across my jean covered butt.

  Seriously?

  Even though I try to control it, my heartbeat hitches for just a moment before I spin around with tightened fists, ready to knock some unsuspecting jerk senseless.

  “Excuse me,” I all but snarl through tightly clenched teeth, “get your damn hand off my ass before I break every single bone in your fingers!” And contrary to what you might think, it’s not an idle threat. I’ll do it. As I turn, my eyes slam into probably the widest, burliest chest I’ve ever had the sad misfortune to inspect this up close and personal.

  A sigh of disgust leaves my downturned lips before I can rein it back in.

  Perfect.

  Very slowly I crane my neck up, up, up until I’m finally able to glare into his eyes. The freakishly large oaf now standing in front of me has the audacity to smile lazily, his gaze happily blurred. “Hey sexy, want to dance?”

  The guy barely looks able to stand up straight let alone move his gargantuan body out on the dance floor. If he goes down, it’ll be like a massive tree falling. And I don’t even want to think about the huge mark he’ll inevitably leave on his potential dance victim.

  My brows draw together in aggravation before I quickly shake my head. “No, I don’t want to dance. What I’d actually like is for you to remove your hand from my ass.”

  Because, believe it or not, it’s still there.

  He actually has the nerve to widen his grin before squeezing my butt cheek in that massive paw of his. My eyes flare wide with shock and I think steam pours out of my ears.

  Oh hell no- that did not just happen.

  Wiping the disgust from my face, I give him my best come hither smile. Just because I never use these kinds of tactics doesn’t mean I don’t know how. His already dilated eyes widen like he’s just hit the jackpot. Stepping a bit closer to the big knuckle dragging Neanderthal, I crook my finger kind of all sexy-like until he bends down. When our lips are close enough to touch, I drag my mouth to his ear. Then, before I can utter a single word, I clamp my fingers around his balls (which are, in case you’re wondering, oversized just like the rest of him) in what I seriously hope is a death grip. Just for good measure, I give them a little twist. He hisses out a breath in response.

  Now that I have his undivided attention, I growl, “If you don’t get your damn hand off my ass immediately, I will continue squeezing until something pops. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly,” he squeaks, sounding almost faint.

  Not a second later, he releases my offended butt cheek.

  And I, in return, release his still intact nuts. But not before I tighten my fingers one last time to drive home the gravity of the predicament this moron now finds himself in. For about ten seconds we glare at each other before he carefully backs away from me and my nut clenching fingers. As he does, his face gets all sad and mopey like I’ve done something wrong which is seriously laughable.

  Frankly, I’m still pissed as hell.

  “You’re not a very nice girl,” he mutters like a cross child before taking a huge gulp of what I assume to be beer from a big red plastic cup.

  Rather unattractively I snort in response. “Nope. But hopefully you’ve learned a valuable lesson regarding the pitfalls of grabbing some unsuspecting girl’s ass.” Although, gaging from his unapologetic stance towards me, my guess is that he has not taken this lesson to heart. On second thought- “Just refrain from grabbing any girl’s ass. Contrary to what you apparently think- we don’t like it. At all.”

  “Some girls do,” he pipes up still sporting an intense frowny face which is probably supposed to make me feel bad. It doesn’t.

  Eyes narrowing, I shake my head. “No, we don’t. It’s degrading and just plain rude.”

  He smirks before sneering, “No one’s ever complained before.”

  Not only do I find that comment completely dubious but I can almost feel my blood pressure sky rocketing. Yep, Brooklyn is definitely a dead woman because this party has moved beyond painful to full out tortuous. “What’s your name?”

  “Alex Mc-”

  I hold up my hand effectively cutting him off. “That’s enough.” For just a moment, my eyes fly around the general vicinity we’re standing in. Luckily, as packed as this massive party is, it doesn’t take long to find exactly what I’m looking for. “Excuse me,” I shout over the pulsating music at a pretty girl walking past us. With a smile gracing her lips, she turns. The high wattage smile slips from her face once she realizes that she doesn’t know who the hell either one of us are.

  Before she’s able to make a hasty get away, I quickly launch into my spiel. “Hi, what’s your name?”

  Her gaze, which is slightly blurry as well (jeez, are there seriously no sober people at this party?), quickly bounces between Alex and myself. I can tell she’s hesitant to give me any information.

  “Stacy.”

  I give her my most reassuring smile. “Hi, Stacy, I’m Cassidy and this is,” I point to the obnoxious buffoon standing next to me, “Alex. We’re having a little disagreement that we need settled. Would you mind weighing in on the matter?”

  With Stacy still looking uncertain, I barrel on. “My friend here thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to walk around a party grabbing the butts of girls he doesn’t know. And furthermore, he’s under the impression that we enjoy it. I’m just wondering if you might have any thoughts on the matter.”

  Stacy no longer looks hesitant or uncertain as her heated gaze swings back to Alex. Then, in a big sweeping gesture, she jerks her hands out in front of her. “What makes you think any girl would enjoy being touched by some random dude she doesn’t even know?”

  Alex opens his mouth as if he might actually have a rebuttal in mind, but Stacy has other ideas. Like screeching at him in a very high, potentially eardrum shattering voice. “Where do you get off thinking you can grope a girl simply because you’re drunk at a party? Is there something seriously wrong with you? Do you have any concept that we’re living in the twenty-first century?”

  Alex snaps his mouth shut and even though it’s fairly difficult, I do my best to suppress the smile that is desperately trying to spread its way across my face as she continues to berate him.

  “That’s called sexual harassment, buddy.” Her hands fly to her hips as she continues glaring. “Do you know that I could call the police and have you ticketed? Or even arrest
ed!”

  Okay, I’m not exactly sure if that’s true but I’m just going to roll with it.

  As if finally realizing that this teeny tiny chick is going to go completely bat shit crazy all over his dumb ass, Alex’s wide brown eyes shift helplessly to mine as Stacy pokes a slender finger at his massive, wall-like chest.

  He kind of looks like he might want me to intervene on his behalf. I almost laugh because that is so not going to happen. I’m viewing this whole thing as a teachable moment. I only hope that Alex is teachable. Although, in all honesty, the jury is still out on that one… because from what I’ve seen tonight regarding Alex, my guess is probably not.

  “How would you like it if some chick you didn’t even know started groping you at a club or party?” Her eyes flash with hostility. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if she actually started foaming at the mouth. My guess is that Stacy has been manhandled one too many times before.

  Hopefully Alex isn’t stupid enough to answer that question.

  “I’d be totally down with it.” For the first time in five minutes, he actually smirks.

  Stacy’s mouth drops open as her eyes flare wide. A moment later, her hand shoots out. I’m half afraid she’s going to bitch slap Alex right into next week when she grabs a girl walking past us and yanks her over. The girl, wearing a pair of four inch super skinny heels, stumbles just a bit before recovering her balance. I have to give her some major props for remaining upright on that one. Not always easy to do in sky high skinny heels.

  “Ally, this guy,” she waves her hand in Alex’s direction as if that term is debatable, “thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to grab a girl’s butt at a party.”