Heart Stopper: Rebels of Rushmore Book One

by Hercules, Michelle

  I throw my hands up in the air. “Oh my God. What’s with you and sexy outfits?”

  “I’m a guy.”

  My eyes drop to his crotch. Troy is wearing a snug shirt and sweatpants, which means there’s no hiding his erection. My mouth suddenly goes dry while a wisp of desire curls around the base of my spine.

  He snaps his fingers, getting me out of my trance. “Hey, eyes up here, Charlie.”

  Heat creeps up my cheeks. “You’re breaking the rules.”

  “Am I now?”

  “Those pants cover nothing.”

  “I’m dressed. Those are the rules. We never specified clothes that weren’t allowed.”

  I watch him through slits, already concocting payback. “Fine. But you’re not going out like that, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

  “For starters, you’re not wearing any underwear.”

  That devilish grin appears once again. “My, my, Charlie. Aren’t you observant?”

  I ignore his quip. “So unless your plan is to make every single female on campus stare at your package, then I suggest you change.”

  “And what if I don’t? Are you going to make me?” His eyes gleam with mischief. I hear the challenge loud and clear.

  “No. But I can’t be held responsible for gouging their eyes out if they dare to stare.”

  Troy doesn’t move a muscle for a couple seconds. Then he throws his head back and laughs out loud.

  “I’m serious!” I say, exasperated.

  “Sure you are.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m short-tempered with revenge tendencies.” I cross my arms over my chest, aggravated that he’s laughing at me.

  He walks around the counter and then pulls me into a hug. “You’re so darn cute when you’re angry, babe.”

  “How cute are we talking?”

  “Cute enough to make me want to do this.” He kisses my neck, drawing his hot tongue up to my ear.

  My reaction is immediate. My nipples become hard, my breathing turns shallow, and my clit throbs in anticipation even if my head is telling it to cool off. Not willing to simply stand there and take Troy’s torture, I turn my face so I can kiss him hard and deep. He responds in kind, grunting like a savage and grinding his pelvis against mine.

  I bet I could make him cave right now, but we don’t have a lot of time, and there’s no quickie with Troy. Reluctantly, I step back. His half-hooded eyes drop to my lips, and he would have followed them if I hadn’t pressed my palm against his chest.

  “If you want to catch a ride with me, then you have to finish getting ready. And before you complain, underwear is mandatory.”

  “You’re so bossy.”

  “When it comes to punctuality, yes I am.”

  Grumbling, he veers toward the stairs. “Fine. I’ll put decent clothes on. Don’t want you gouging anyone’s eyes out on my account.”

  I shake my head, then go grab a cup of coffee.

  “Charlie?” he calls from the middle of the stairs.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you free on Friday?”

  “I think so. Why?”

  “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

  The butterflies in my stomach explode in a crazy fluttering while my heart takes off. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  “Yes I am.”

  The thumping inside my chest becomes louder. Settle down, damn muscle!

  “That’s so sweet.” I smirk, trying to hide my excitement.

  “Is that a yes?”

  I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”

  Troy watches me through narrowed eyes for a second, probably catching on to my false casualness, before he says, “It’s a date then.”

  26

  TROY

  Keeping my hands off Charlie for the rest of the week is the hardest thing I’ve had to do. If I could go back in time and stop myself from making the stupid bet, I would. Too late now. The only thing I can do is make Charlie lose, and I plan to do that tonight.

  I haven’t gone out on a date since I was seeing Brooke, which means it’s been ages and I’m rusty. However, I know that to impress Charlie, I can’t simply do the usual. She’s into LARPing, for crying out loud. Creativity is in her blood. I’ve agonized about it since Tuesday when I asked her out. I considered taking her to an experimental cuisine restaurant, but Jane convinced me to stick to a place I was familiar with. The last thing I want is to ruin the evening by giving Charlie food poisoning.

  I decide on Le Gone, one of my favorite restaurants. You can’t go wrong with French food unless you’re lactose intolerant, which isn’t the case with Charlie. She goes through gallons of milk a week. I also suspect she was a mouse in her previous life, judging by the amount of cheese she eats. My secret weapon to break through her defenses will come later when we get back to the house.

  I haven’t really spoken to Andreas since our argument, even though I’ve seen him during practice. I can’t throw balls, but I can do everything else that doesn’t require the use of my arms. Saturday’s game is against our rival school, and it’ll be a pain to warm the bench. At least I can give Danny pointers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed that I’m not playing. I do miss football. But for now, the game with Charlie is keeping my excitement level high, which means I don’t have time to deal with my inner demons.

  As I’m heading to the locker room, Andreas stops me.

  “Hey, Troy. Got a minute?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen, I want to apologize about Charlie. It was an asshole move to interfere.”

  “Yeah, it was. But no worries, man. Apology accepted.”

  My statement is true. I won’t hold a grudge against him, especially now that he realizes his error in judgment. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pranking him later. Charlie told me about her idea, and it’s genius. I can’t wait to pull that one on him.

  “What’s the deal with you two? Is it serious?”

  “I don’t know if it’s serious, but we’re having fun.”

  He smirks. “Having fun, huh? I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the sexy nerd. Have you talked to Brooke since you and Charlie got together?”

  Andreas, being my best friend, knows I got a weird vibe from Brooke when she got back to LA.

  “Not yet. I haven’t really talked to her at all in weeks. The last time was when she came by after my accident.”

  “She’s probably nursing a broken heart.” He chuckles.

  “I hope not.”

  I know people say it’s impossible to stay friends with your ex, but I’d like to believe it’s possible with Brooke. She’s into high-adrenaline sports like me, and she’s fun to hang out with. In a different scenario, we would be perfect for each other, but because we’re so much alike, we were boring together.

  “Hey, I’m going to meet the guys later for a quick beer. Do you wanna come?” Andreas asks.

  “Ah sorry. Can’t. I have a date.” I smile even though I didn’t mean to.

  “Holy fuck. Look at your face. Dude! You got it bad for the sexy nerd.”

  I school my face into a neutral expression, but I’m not fooling anyone, especially not Andreas. “As usual, you’re blowing things way out of proportion.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He shakes his head, then continues on into the locker room.

  Damn him. He knows me too well.

  I do have it bad for Charlie, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s terrifying, and probably the reason going out with her is a thrill.

  * * *

  I’m pacing in the living room as I wait for Charlie. She’s not late, I just got ready too early. I let Jane get into my head, and now I’m feeling like a fool. I have a bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket, and I bought a rose bouquet. Jesus, it looks like I’m going to propose, not going on a first date. Hell. I can’t get rid of the flowers because Charlie will see them in the trash can and think I’m nuts. But I can put the champagne away. />
  As the world would have it, she catches me in the act. “You got me bubbles?”

  I turn around and freeze. Charlie is wearing the same snug-fit burgundy dress she wore when she went out with whatever his name was. That was the first time I realized I was in deep trouble. I fucking love that dress on her, and she must be aware of it, because she’s sporting a smug smile now.

  “What do you think?” She twirls when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.

  “Stunning.”

  With a bounce to her step, she comes to my side. “You look good enough to eat.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and then takes a whiff of my neck. “Hmm, I love the way you smell.”

  “Thanks, babe. Remember, you can have the whole thing; all you have to do is ask.”

  “Tempting.” She steps back. “But I’d rather you ask me.”

  I watch her for a moment, drinking her in. “We’ll see.”

  She turns her attention to the ice bucket I’m still holding. “Are we having some or what?”

  “I guess.”

  I feel my face getting warmer, so I quickly turn around to hide it from Charlie.

  “And those flowers?”

  Ah shit. What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like an idiot.

  I grab the bouquet and give it to her. “For you, sweetheart.”

  She brings the roses to her nose and takes a deep breath. “They smell lovely. Not as good as you though. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Why don’t you pop that bottle while I go put these in a vase?”

  “All right.”

  “How are we on time? How long until we need to be at the restaurant?”

  “Half an hour. It’s not that far from here.” I open the champagne bottle with a loud pop—at least I didn’t screw this part up.

  “We probably should call an Uber soon. You never know how long it’ll take to find a ride.”

  I smile to myself, remembering her comment about punctuality. “I have one request for tonight.” I turn around, holding two flutes of champagne.

  “And what is it?” She takes one.

  “That you don’t stress about anything. Cheers.”

  We clink our glasses together, and then, with our gazes locked, we take a sip of the champagne. I’m not particularly fond of it, but Jane said it was a must.

  “Okay, I’ll try.” She takes another sip and then sets the glass down.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “I do. It’s not something I drink often though.”

  Shit, Jane. I shouldn’t have listened to you.

  I must have shown my disappointment on my face, as she’s quick to add. “I love that you thought about it though. Super romantic. You’re definitely trying to get lucky tonight.”

  “Yep. But you know how men live in hope—”

  “And die in despair,” she finishes for me.

  We don’t speak for several beats, and I’m highly aware of the stupid smile I’m sporting now. The air between us crackles with electricity and sexual tension. It won’t take long until one of us caves to the pressure. My cock stirs in my pants, and I know it might be me tonight.

  “So, where are we going?” she asks, breaking the silence.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Her eyes twinkle with excitement. “I can’t wait.”

  27

  CHARLIE

  Troy picked a small, intimate French restaurant located in an unpretentious open mall just twenty minutes from the house. The décor is rustic with a whimsical touch thanks to the exposed brick walls and twinkling lights hanging from them.

  There’s no hostess; we’re greeted by the chef himself as we come through the door. He ushers us to our table in a flurry of excited comments.

  “Monsieur Alexander. It’s so good to see you. Oh, and you brought a lovely mademoiselle tonight.”

  “Yes. This is our first date.”

  “Is that so? Oh, then you need our very best table. Come this way.”

  Not long after we’re seated at a cozy table in the corner, our waiter comes with the menu. “Can I interest you in something to drink?” he asks.

  “Would you like a cocktail first, or straight to wine?” Troy asks me.

  I can’t answer. I’m too awestruck at the moment. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe just sparkling water for now.”

  “Same,” he tells the waiter.

  When he leaves, Troy turns his attention to me. “I have to ask you this because I feel like I’ve already messed up royally. What are your favorite drinks?”

  “You didn’t mess up. The champagne was a nice touch.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Was it though? You barely touched it.”

  “Because I didn’t want to get wasted before we even left the house.”

  “Oh. Okay then. Are you saying you’re a lightweight?”

  “To certain alcoholic beverages, yes. Champagne is one that goes to my head quicker than others. But I’m fine with drinking tequila shots or Duck Farts, for instance.”

  Troy’s eyebrows shoot to the heavens. “Duck Farts? What in the world is that?”

  “It’s a combination of Kahlúa, Irish cream, and whiskey. But I prefer it without the Kahlúa. It’s delicious.”

  “Noted. Would you like to have that instead of wine? I’m sure they can make it for you.”

  “Oh no. I don’t think it goes with French cuisine. Wine is fine.”

  “Does it also go to your head faster?” His lips curl into a mischievous smile.

  I watch him through slits. “Why do you want to know, Troy? Are you planning on getting me drunk so I can lose the bet?”

  He widens his eyes innocently. “Me? Of course not. Are you implying you turn into a nympho under the influence?”

  My face bursts into flames. No, you’ve turned me into one, Troy.

  “I’m not saying that at all,” I lie.

  I’m already hanging on by a thread. Sitting across from him in his suit jacket that makes him look like he just sprang from a fashion magazine, plus being under the allure of his intoxicating scent, is already doing crazy things to my body. I really don’t need to add alcohol to my system; it’ll shut my brain down, and then my body will take control.

  “Okay. Just checking.” He opens the wine list and does a quick perusal of the menu. “Do you have any preference in mind?”

  “Oh please. I know nothing about wine. You go ahead and pick.”

  He looks up. “What gives you the idea that I know about wine?”

  “Aren’t you a regular here?”

  “Kind of. This is Grandma’s favorite restaurant. I always come with her, and she chooses the wine.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to gamble then.” I wink at him.

  He scrunches his nose. “Maybe we’ll let the waiter suggest something.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  The server returns with our water, and after we tell him we have no clue about wine, he’s more than happy to suggest a bottle. We turn our attention to the dinner menu, and I’m faced with the impossible choice of selecting what I want. Everything looks delicious.

  “Besides your unusual reaction to alcohol, anything else I should know beforehand?” Troy asks.

  I chuckle. “What do you mean by unusual?”

  “I’ve never met someone before who would get drunk from a glass of champagne but could handle copious amounts of tequila and whiskey with no problem.”

  “What can I say? I’m special.”

  “Oh, I know that.” He smirks.

  I watch him through slitted eyes. “Somehow I feel your statement has a double meaning.”

  “Maybe, but nothing bad. I promise.”

  I open my mouth to ask him to elaborate, but the waiter returns to take our orders, and when he leaves, I decide to let the subject drop.

  “How long have we been living together?” Troy leans back, obviously comfortable. Even though I pegged him to be a rowdy jock when we met, he fits perfec
tly in this sophisticated environment. He’s like a rogue prince from a fairy tale.

  “I don’t know. Almost two months?”

  “Right. And yet I only know that you’re into LARP and board games, and you want to be a journalist. Is that correct?”

  “Partially. I don’t want to be a journalist. I want to write fiction.”

  “Oh, that’s cool. Are we talking books or maybe a screenplay?”

  No one has ever asked me that before. Whenever I mention I want to write fiction, all I get is a pitiful glance. I get it, making a living as a fiction writer isn’t the easiest career path. Even with the growth of indie publishing, it takes dedication and long working hours to succeed. And even so, many people never do.

  “Both? I don’t know.” I reach for my water.

  “Have you written anything that I can read?”

  I take a sip and then answer, “Yes and no. I have written plenty of stuff, but it’s not ready for the public eye yet.”

  “Oh come on. Why not?”

  “Because… I don’t think I’m ready to open myself to criticism.”

  “You write for the newspaper. Aren’t people reading that?”

  “Yeah, but it’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I sense my barriers going up. My muscles are tense, and I can’t wait to change the subject. As different as Troy and I are, he’s the only one who seems to know exactly where my weak points are.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you into a corner,” he says. “How about you ask me the tough questions?”

  I’m not sure if his comment was meant to remind me of when we first met, but his eyes are devoid of mirth, so maybe it was just a coincidence.

  The waiter comes with our wine, and I’m thankful for the interruption.

  Wine is poured and tasted. Not surprising, it’s amazing.

  After I take a couple of sips, I glance at Troy. “Where were we? Oh, it was my turn to grill you.”

  “Oh boy.” He smiles casually, unaware of what it does to me. He’s so beautiful that it makes my heart ache with the need to be close to him.

  “What do you want to do when you graduate?”