by Liv Reid
But I can’t just stay in my room all day waiting otherwise I’ll go crazy, so I keep going to my classes while I wait for a verdict. If by some miracle they find me not guilty and allow me to continue my studies, I don’t want to be behind on my coursework.
One day as I’m walking out of my psych class, head down and lost in my own world, I run straight into a hard male chest. I bounce backwards and would have fallen if Mace hadn’t reached out and grabbed my arms to keep me on my feet.
“You should watch where you’re going,” he says. “You could fall down a well or something next time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I mumble.
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen him, and he looks so hot. His hair is brushed back from the hard angles of his rectangular face. There’s just the faintest hint of dark stubble on his jaw, and his coal-colored eyes look unusually soft—which isn’t normal for him. I can smell his cologne, and I try not to breathe it in too deep.
“You stopped shadowing me,” he states flatly. “Stopped keeping me out of trouble.”
I sigh. “I’m on probation, Mace. I think that duty is not one of my obligations anymore. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to attend classes right now.”
His mouth twitches, and he looks down for a moment.
“I know,” he says, then his eyes trail down my body and back up to meet mine. “Let me take you out for dinner tonight. When was the last time you ate something?”
I have to think about it for a moment, and I realize I can’t remember the last time I ate. I’ve been so stressed out I haven’t thought about food at all.
“I’m not really in the mood to go to a restaurant and be around people right now,” I say.
Why is he even doing this?
“I understand, and I’ll take care of it. Pick you up at eight,” he says.
“Mace, I can’t.”
But he’s already walking away.
“Pick you up at eight,” he calls over his shoulder.
It’s weird having him be nice to me. I got a glimpse of it in New York and it felt odd, like I was in an alternative reality or something, an alternative reality where Mace Law isn’t a huge asshole.
But even when he’s being nice, he’s still kind of a dick. He didn’t give me a choice about whether I wanted to go to dinner or not. He just basically told me I’m going and that he’ll pick me up at eight.
Can this situation get any weirder?
30
Sadie
“How about this one?” Jess asks while holding up one of my sundresses.
“Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that.”
She frowns and puts it back in the closet. A second later, she pulls out another dress. This one is long and black with a deep “V” in the front to show off my cleavage.
“How about this?” she asks. “You have amazing boobs. You should show them off.”
I shake my head again.
“No way. I’m not trying to look hot or anything. This isn’t a date. We’re just two… enemies going out for dinner together. Nothing more,” I say in an uncertain voice because I know how ridiculous I sound.
Marty, Jess and Luna all roll their eyes at me.
“It’s one hundred percent a date. What else would it be, Sades?” Marty asks in a snarky tone. “You can deny it all you want, but it’s so obvious.”
“Okay, so I don’t really know what it is, but I don’t think it’s a date because we both hate each other, remember?” I say.
“Really?” Luna asks from her spot on my bed. “Even after he took you to all those places in New York? Even after you guys made out like crazy? You still think you both hate each other?”
“Um, I don’t know,” I say uncertainly.
I told them everything that happened in New York. It all came out in one long sentence because I was so confused about it, and also because I was so upset about the cheating accusation.
“This?” Jess asks and pulls a black mini skirt out of my closet. “You could wear it with that black tank top you have—and a coat over it, obviously.”
I shake my head. “I’m not trying to give him the wrong idea. I’m just going to wear what I’m wearing right now.”
The three of them look down at my outfit judgmentally. I’m wearing my usual uniform of black jeans and a T-shirt.
“Really?” Jess asks.
I roll my eyes and sigh in frustration. Even if I was trying to impress Mace—which I’m not—I wouldn’t feel comfortable in those clothes. The ones she chose are the most provocative pieces I own, and I know it sounds crazy because he’s already seen me naked, but I feel like it’s just too much.
There’s a knock at the door and we all jump. The four of us really only hang out with each other, so we aren’t used to having visitors. Everyone who ever comes to this apartment is already in this room.
We look at each other and start giggling at how lame we are for being startled.
“I’ll get it!” Luna calls and races for the door.
“Luna!” I hiss, but it’s too late.
“Oh, hi… Mace? Is it?” I hear her ask in the other room, pretending not to know who he is. As if anyone who goes to Winterford University wouldn’t know who the star quarterback is.
I groan. The three of them are making this particularly painful for me, but I don’t blame them. This whole situation is ridiculous, and I’m sure I would find it funny if I wasn’t the one it was happening too. And my friends are being really sweet and comforting about the whole cheating accusation thing, so I’ll give them a pass on torturing me about Mace. When did my life get so complicated?
“Go,” Marty whispers and pushes me out of my room. “You don’t want to keep your lover waiting.”
He and Jess burst into giggles, and I have to clamp my lips together to keep from groaning. I walk across the living room and see Mace and Luna by the door. He’s looking at her with a wary expression.
“Hi!” I say with forced cheeriness, trying to break up the weird interaction they are having. “Let’s go.”
I want to get Mace out of here ASAP before my friends embarrass me—or before Mace says something rude to them. I grab my coat and quickly push him out the door.
“Does she really not know who I am?” he asks in confusion.
“What? Is it so hard to believe that someone you’ve never spoken to doesn’t know you?”
He thinks for a second then answers, “Yeah.”
I roll my eyes.
“Okay, then what’s her name?” I ask.
He looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Obviously I have no idea.”
“Then why would you expect her to know you?”
He just gives me a look like “duhhh”, and we walk out of the building into the fresh night air.
“But she does though, doesn’t she,” Mace probes after a bit.
“Yeah,” I admit.
He gets such a smug look on his face that I immediately wish I’d lied.
“I knew it,” he says.
I sigh and start walking—before realizing I don’t have any idea where we’re going.
“Which way, superstar?” I ask.
“This way,” he says and starts leading me down the sidewalk, deeper into the campus.
I noticed when he picked me up that he’s dressed nicely, and it makes me feel self-conscious. I now wish I’d put a little more effort in to my appearance. I look so scruffy next to his expensive, perfectly tailored clothes.
But why did he dress up in the first place? Does he think this is a date or something? Of course he thinks this is a date, a little voice in my head chastises me, because it is one.
I feel so confused. It’s been less than a week since something changed between the two of us, and I don’t know what to think anymore. I think I can’t stand him, but then why am I so attracted to him? I guess you can think someone you hate is hot… but then why is my stomach full of butterflies right
now?
I wish I had dressed up more.
We walk along the deserted path in silence, heading to a secluded area of campus. I look around with a frown. I know there’s nowhere to eat around here.
“Where are we going?” I finally ask.
Mace gives me a mischievous grin, and my heart unexpectedly starts to beat faster.
“You’ll just have to wait and see. Patience is a virtue, you know,” he says as if he’s teaching me something.
I roll my eyes. Even when we are kind of getting along, we still can’t help but annoy and antagonize each other.
“If you’re taking me someplace to kill me, then I’m going to be very pissed off,” I say—only semi-joking.
He laughs loudly.
“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
And I’m shocked to realize I almost believe him.
We walk a little farther, and as we round a corner, I finally see where we are going. I stop short, with my mouth hanging open.
Mace stops too and looks at me with a smile on his handsome face.
“Like it?” he asks.
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
“We can go somewhere else if you don’t like it,” he says quickly, suddenly uncharacteristically self-conscious. “You said you weren’t up for being around other people, so I thought maybe this would be nice, but we can go somewhere else, anywhere else. We can even fly to New York again. I can get a jet to take us. I just need to make a phone call. Or we could go to Boston, or Quebec. Have you ever been to Montreal? I can get a limo to take us and we could spend the night if you want, or—”
Mace suddenly realizes he’s rambling and stops.
“No, I love it,” I say honestly.
He breathes out a small sigh of relief, which he tries to hide, and I find it incredibly endearing.
“Come on, then.”
He holds out his hand to me, and without thinking, I take it. It feels strange and dangerous, but also kind of right.
He leads me down the path towards the wooden gazebo. I’ve never noticed it before because it’s in an area of campus I never go, but it’s absolutely beautiful. It’s painted white with a dark green roof, and the whole thing is glowing softly because of the dozens of strings of lights draped around it.
The forest behind it is pitch-black, and the gazebo looks warm and inviting by comparison. The mountains gaze down on us indifferently as we walk hand in hand. There’s a blanket spread out and a wicker picnic basket sitting on top. As we walk up the three stairs, a gust of warm air brushes against my face.
“It’s hot!” I say dumbly in surprise.
“Heaters.” Mace motions with his head to the small devices spread around the structure.
We take a seat on the thick blanket. It’s dark outside our little circle of light, so it feels like it’s just the two of us alone in the entire universe. Mace seems reluctant to let go of my hand, but eventually he does and then opens the basket. He starts pulling things out and placing them around us. There’s so much food coming out that the basket seems like a clown car.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Mace says as he pulls out sandwiches, salads, desserts, sushi, cold pasta, thermoses of soup, a cheese plate, a baguette, fruits, and three different types of wine.
I can’t help but laugh at the amount of food.
“This all looks great,” I say.
I suddenly realize Mace seems a bit nervous, and the realization shocks me. I’ve never seen him nervous before. I’ve seen him destroy other players in football practice, get into a fight with a taxi driver, try to jump over a bonfire, get threatened with being expelled, use a fake ID, tell off old yuppies—all without breaking a sweat, but now he’s looking at me like he wants to make sure he’s doing the right thing. Is it me? Am I making him nervous? There’s no way someone like Mace Law would be intimidated by someone like me.
Sure, I’m a little nervous right now, if I’m being honest, but that’s just because all of this came out of nowhere, and I have no idea what’s going on. But maybe he doesn’t either? Maybe we’re two people lost at sea together, unsure of how our boat sunk and just trying to find our way back to shore.
We start eating and as soon as the first bite of brie and turkey sandwich hits my tongue, I realize how hungry I am. I gobble it down and then go for seconds. I finish two sandwiches before Mace finishes one. I’m reaching for a third when I stop, suddenly self-conscious about how much I’m eating. He’s probably used to hanging out with girls who pretend they are full after three bites of salad. I pull my hand back, empty.
He laughs. He’s laughing at me and it pisses me off. We were having a nice time—a weird time, but a nice time—and now it’s ruined because I’m angry and just want to go home.
“Don’t stop now. Here,” he says.
He hands over the sandwich I was reaching for. I take it but don’t open the plastic wrapping. I just hold it in my lap.
“I shouldn’t.”
He scoffs.
“What the hell are you talking about? You probably haven’t eaten in days because you’ve been so stressed. Your body is just excited to get food again. Come on, eat. I didn’t have a chef make all this just to go to waste. Besides, I like a girl who can eat. I hate going on dates where the girl orders a salad with no dressing, then keeps picking fries off my plate until she’s eaten all of them, just because she wants to look dainty or some shit. I hate that. Order the damn burger and fries instead of leaves with no taste. You know what I mean?”
I can’t help but smile.
“Also, you need to eat because it would be a tragedy if you lost even an inch of those incredible curves,” he says huskily.
He runs his eyes over my body slowly, like he’s running his hands over me in his mind. Unexpected heat rushes up from my stomach. He’s looking at me like he wants to fuck me right here and now.
I clear my throat, and, just to distract us so we don’t continue down the path Mace clearly wants to go down, I peel the wrapper off the sandwich and start eating it.
“Mm, it’s good,” I say to change the subject.
He laughs, and I realize he’s no longer laughing at me, like he was before we went to New York. Now he’s laughing with me, and it feels good.
We spend the rest of the evening in the cozy gazebo, underneath the hanging lights, just eating and talking. And I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I have a great time. Who knew we could hang out together and not kill each other? Certainly not me. The whole thing takes my mind off my cheating situation, and I actually start to feel better for the first time since it happened.
I’m having such a great time that the hours fly by without me even realizing it, and suddenly it’s midnight. Mace insists on walking me back to my room, and I gladly accept.
We leave the warmth of the gazebo and head out into the cold.
“Wait, what about the stuff?” I ask, motioning to all the half-eaten containers of food spread around the blanket.
He dismisses it with a wave of his hand. “I’ll get someone to clean it up.”
Typical Mace.
We head back across campus together, and when he reaches over and takes my hand in his, I don’t stop him.
31
Mace
It’s dark in her apartment when I drop her off. All her roommates are asleep, so the place is completely silent.
I can’t help myself. I bend down and kiss her hard.
Her back bangs into the front door, which hits the wall with a loud thud.
“Shhh,” I whisper into her lips, even as I push her harder against the door.
Her mouth on mine feels like heaven. I’ve wanted to do this all night, and it’s taken all my willpower to keep my hands to myself. But I can’t hold back any longer. I have to have her.
Her little hands skim up my arms until they are grabbing the back of my neck, and she’s quickly kissing me back just as hard. That’s my gi
rl.
I dip my tongue between her lips to get a taste of her. She gasps and invites me in without a word.
We make our way through the room, still completely entangled. We’re trying to be quiet so we don’t wake up her roommates, but we keep banging into things. But her body in my arms and her lips on mine feel so good it’s hard for me to care about anything else right now.
She’s so fucking hot. Even though she was just dressed in her everyday clothes, I was hard the moment I saw her at the front door. I wanted to rip off those clothes and fuck her right on the floor, and I didn’t care if her friends were right there watching. I wanted them to see how hot I make her. She can tell them how she hates me all she wants, how much she can’t stand me, but the look in her eyes can’t lie—how wet her pussy gets for me can’t lie.
I growl against her pouty lips, and she slaps me on the chest and shushes me—but she shivers too and pushes her body against me harder. She wants this just as much as I do.
I can’t take it anymore. It’s taking too damn long to get to her room. I release her lips. She looks up at me in irritated confusion, and I can’t help but smirk. Don’t worry, Princess. You’ll get fucked good and proper.
I reach down and scoop her up into my arms. She lets out a squeal of surprise, and it’s my turn to shush her.
I kiss her neck and ask, “Which room?”
She points, and I quickly carry her there. I walk over the threshold with her in my arms like this is our goddam wedding night. I suddenly realize the thought isn’t all that unpleasant, and it shocks me. What is this girl doing to me?
I close the door behind me as quietly as I can, but it makes a semi-loud bang. She hisses, but I ignore it and quickly carry her over to the bed. It’s dark but the curtains are open so I find my way by moonlight. The need to touch her is so strong it’s making my balls ache. I need to get her out of her clothes and taste her skin.
I throw her on the bed and quickly cover her lips before she can let out a sound. I kiss her so hard I feel like my soul is leaving my body and going into hers. Fuck, I want her so bad.
