“I dare you to kiss Larik—right here in front of us,” he says to her.
Nils gives my shoulders a squeeze, maybe indicating that my eyes should go back into my head. He leans forward and drinks more of the vodka. Trina crawls across the floor to Larik. She takes his face with each of her palms. She leans forward, brushing her lips on his. He opens his mouth to her and they are full-out Frenching in front of us. Larik moans and grabs her ass. Trina breaks the kiss and swats him on the shoulder playfully.
“Okay, my turn,” Trina says, rubbing her hands together. “Nils, I dare you to go into that closet and make out with Jodi.” She smiles sweetly.
“Come on. I’m here with Sierra. That isn’t cool,” he says.
“Seriously? She must know you’ve slept with all of us,” she says so easily, and my insides that had felt all gooey and happy turn with a sinking twist.
“What is wrong with you?” he snaps at Trina.
I shouldn’t feel offended. He isn’t my real boyfriend. I know in the back of my mind that he must have gotten around, but thinking it and hearing it are two different things.
“We’re out,” he says, pushing me off his lap gently. I stand and he stands with me. He takes me by the hand.
“Sorry, Sierra,” one of the girls calls after us. “Maybe we can hang during the week?”
Geez. I don’t think Nils’s mother fully understood what she was asking of Nils when she asked him to be my fake boyfriend.
Nils pulls me by the hand toward the kitchen. There is a large punch bowl of something on the counter. Nils uses the ladle to fill himself a large plastic red cup. He pours me one, too, and passes it to me.
“Sorry. I forgot to tell you that girls can be catty bitches,” he scoffs.
I snort. “Now I can see what I was missing.”
“Hey, guys.” A girl named Carly, who I met at the last party, walks up to us. Her speech is a little slurred, but I remember her being nice. She’s a social science major, like me.
“Hi.” I smile and take a long gulp of the drink Nils poured. “How have you been?”
“If you’re good, I’m going to hang out with some guys on the team for a bit,” Nils says to me, and I think it’s because he wants me to make friends with Carly. Or maybe he’s trying to get away from me. I’m hoping it’s the former.
“Yeah. Sure.” I smile, and he leans in and gives me a quick peck on the lips. When he walks away, Carly is grinning widely.
“So how did you guys end up together? You seem like an unlikely couple, and I heard he doesn’t do relationships.” Carly’s question makes my stomach sink. I am definitely feeling the alcohol. I’m worried about messing up the story.
I tell her how he needed help with his classes. I was his tutor and we just hit it off. I feel bad for lying to her because she seems nice, and has good friend potential.
“You’re so lucky,” she sighs dreamily.
Drinking gives me a sense of bravery I haven’t felt before. “Nils removed my glasses from my face during one of our study sessions and told me how beautiful I was,” I explain, batting my lashes at the thought of that little fantasy coming true. She sighs. I do, too. I may help Nils with his schoolwork, but our study sessions have always been purely platonic.
“So dreamy,” she says. “You want to take a seat?” She pulls herself up on the kitchen counter, since the chairs at the table are all occupied.
I pull myself up onto the counter beside her. “Tell me about you.”
“I’m from North Carolina. My family has a farm. I have three sisters and two brothers. I’m the only one attending college,” she says sweetly with a southern drawl. “I don’t have a hot boyfriend like you. I honestly don’t even know how to flirt with a guy. Maybe you can teach me?” She waggles her brows.
Oh, Carly. If only I knew how to flirt.
“Definitely,” I say. “So easy really.”
I’ve been talking out of my ass. Dating a guy like Nils is impossible; they don’t do relationships. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to get a fake boyfriend because real ones don’t exist.
Carly leans over and refills our cups with punch.
“This is good stuff.” She swirls the liquid in her cup and some spills on her jeans. “Shit.”
We both burst out laughing. I may not be able to find a real boyfriend, but I feel like I am making a friend.
“Are you drunk?” Carly slurs.
“I think so.” I giggle.
“We should dance,” she says. I place my drink on the counter and we both jump down.
I push my glasses up my nose and allow her to pull me through the house. In the main room, a makeshift dance floor has been set up and people are dancing all over it and the furniture.
Trina is grinding on some guy. Just watching her makes my cheeks flush. She is so confident and sexy, even though she seems like a bitch, too. She spots me and gives me what feels like an evil smile.
I turn away from her like I would when the sun burns my eyes. I focus on Carly, who is swaying her hips and pumping her arms up and down. I follow her lead. It’s easy when my body feels weightless. My hips move with ease, and this dress makes me feel sexy for the first time in my life.
A guy walks up to Carly and whispers in her ear. Carly nods and then leans over to me.
“That’s Seth. He wants to dance with you,” she says.
“Sorry. I’m here with someone,” I say.
“Aw! Come on, beautiful. It’s just a dance,” Seth says, demanding and insistent. His tone unsettles me.
“No, thank you,” I answer curtly. I lean into Carly’s ear. “I’m going to find Nils.”
She nods and as I walk away, I turn my head to see Carly dancing with him.
Did I overreact?
I walk around the crowded house, looking for Nils. It feels too hot and stuffy in here. I need air. I spot him on the same couch as earlier where we played drinking games. Jodi is sitting beside him with her legs crossed. Her thigh leans on his leg, and as I approach, I realize her arm is draped over his shoulder. Jealousy courses through my veins, as I come to a stop in front of them.
“What’s going on here?” I ask. My voice feels light and airy and I’m unsteady on my feet.
“Nothing. What’s up, baby?” His head tilts to the side.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me,” I snap, not fully understanding my own emotions.
Jodi moves in closer to him and kisses his neck. My blood turns hot and I see red.
“Whoa, trouble in paradise,” some guy says from beside me. I turn to see a crowd gathered around us. My pulse picks up pace as my heart beats erratically. I take off toward the kitchen. I just need to get away from these people, from Nils. I reach the kitchen counter and brace my palms against it, trying to get my bearings.
“Sierra, fuck. Why did you take off? Nothing happened. I swear,” he says, swaying a little.
“Why do you have to hang around slutty girls like that?” I ask, jealousy and anger mixing and creating a toxic cocktail inside me.
“Well, at least my parents don’t force me to date them,” he snarls.
A sharp intake of breath sucks the air from my lungs leaving a piercing pain in my chest. I turn to see Trina, Larik and Jodi walking into the kitchen. By Trina’s smartass grin I know she’s heard. Other college kids trickle into the kitchen and I see them whisper. Nils snaps his lips shut and his eyes widen.
This is okay. Maybe they didn’t hear what he said.
“Nils, please,” I beg softly, but I’m not sure the words have actually left my lips. Everything feels like it’s playing before me in slow motion.
“It’s a really funny story, you see. My mother—who never invites me over for dinner—called with an invitation.” He leans forward and lifts the punch bowl directly to his lips. He looks beyond drunk; he’s cold and callous. My blood runs cold in my veins as I stand, frozen. I should take off. Run out of here, but my legs aren’t moving as he pins me with his gaze. “I obliged, and whe
n I arrived, the real reason for my visit was brought to my attention. Sierra here needed some help making friends, and so as a favor to my beloved stepfather, dear old mom asked me to be Sierra’s fake boyfriend.”
Trina smiles widely.
“Nils, you’re wasted. Maybe go to one of the rooms and sleep it off,” Deacon suggests, looking to me with pity in his eyes.
“So, I spent the last few weeks pretending.” He’s using his hands animatedly as he speaks and knocks over an open beer bottle. “Fuck.” He jeers. Standing right in front of me, he continues, “Look at her. Why would I be attracted to someone like her?” My heart shatters and whatever self-esteem I had managed to muster gets squashed.
I have no words. He is the cruel asshole I always thought him to be.
“I’m going upstairs,” he slurs. He looks around the kitchen, his eyes wild. He pauses on a group of girls sitting at the kitchen table. “Who wants to join me?”
Trina stands. “Let me help you. You’re wasted,” she says, but she looks like she plans on helping him with a lot more than climbing stairs.
Bile rises in the back of my throat. I turn around to see Carly standing behind me.
“Carly, I . . .” I don’t know how to explain myself.
“If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s a liar,” she says.
“And a fake,” Jodi says.
I look to the people who I’ve slowly warmed up to these last few weeks and know that Nils just burned any bridges I’ve built. I pick my pride up off the floor and head outside to call a cab.
When I get back to my dorm, the first thing I do is puke. Then I pass out on my bed.
I awake the next morning, and the only thing I want to do is leave this university, this town. I don’t know why I bothered coming back here anyway. I can’t ever look at any of those people again. I call my Aunt Becca and she sends me a ticket to fly back to Chicago
I don’t look back.
Thirteen
Nils
Present
Shit. This bow tie isn’t cooperating. I try again for the trillionth time. I have to wear suits all the time but I’ve never worn a tux in my life. I have no clue how to tie the knot.
Fuck it! I don’t want to be late picking up Sierra. I can’t get her out of my head.
When Mata said Sierra had never orgasmed, my mind went spiraling into the past. To the night when I had taken her with me to a frat party as my fake girlfriend. We kissed. It was the hottest kiss of my life, and then we broke up.
I was developing feelings for her and that scared the shit out of me. So I drank enough alcohol to numb myself. Problem is, booze in my veins always turned me into an asshole. I did what I normally do when my guard goes up. I lashed out.
I pull into the parking lot of her apartment building and head up the elevators. I knock and wait. The door opens and my heart stops beating. She’s wearing a lemon-yellow dress that hugs her curves and hits her ankles. There is a dip in the front, revealing some cleavage. My eyes travel higher and meet hazel eyes and pouty red lips. Her dark hair falls in loose ringlets down her back. Her makeup is light, but it gives her eyes a catty look.
“Hi, Nils.” She waves.
I haven’t said hello. I clear my throat. “You look . . .”
Her brows bunch together. I can tell I’m making her nervous and that isn’t what I intend.
“Beautiful,” I finally say.
Her arms come up to hug her torso.
“None of that. You shouldn’t cover yourself or feel self-conscious. You look like a vixen,” I say.
She bursts into laughter. “Me, a vixen? Should I loan you my glasses?”
“Don’t do that,” I say.
“What?” Her brows pinch together and her nose scrunches in this adorable way.
“Put yourself down. I’m telling you that you look hot as hell. Accept the compliment and own it.”
Her eyes soften. “I don’t know how to own it. I’ve always been on the curvy side. I’m not stick thin like the girls you’re used to.”
Her self-deprecation is all too familiar. I’ve been there. Not about my looks, but about my self-worth.
“You’re better looking than any girl I’ve been with. Your curves are sexy as hell. I could go into detail of how your breasts look like the perfect handful . . .”
She socks me in the shoulder.
“Ow,” I mock whine, while rubbing my shoulder.
“I appreciate what you’re doing but don’t talk about my breasts. It’s weird.” She gives me a quirky smile.
“Okay, no boob talk.” I chuckle.
She rolls her eyes, “You’re looking good, too, Nils. The tux suits you.”
Her words hit me in the groin. I picture lifting her dress above her ass, turning her around and taking her on the dining table.
I button my jacket and offer her my arm in a gentlemanly way. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah.” She sighs, grabbing her purse. She threads her arm through mine. Progress.
My feelings that made me lash out and run in the past are back with a vengeance but I don’t want to run for the hills now.
We head out to my Tesla and drive to the wedding hall. I drop Sierra out front and park my car.
I walk inside. Some of the guys from the team are here with their families.
We spend the next two hours getting photographed. By five-thirty, guests have begun to arrive. And by five forty-five we are all gathered by the wedding planner, since the ceremony is about to begin. Since it is such a hot day, Sloane decided to have the ceremony indoors, but she ordered live birds and enough flowers to make the indoor ceremony look like an outdoor wedding.
When it’s mine and Sierra’s turn to take the aisle, something shifts in my chest. I’ve never been in a wedding party before. Back in Hogsby, people got married in churches and it was pretty simple.
I meet Sierra in the middle of the aisle and extend my arm to her. She smiles and I wonder if she’s brushed up on her acting skills or if she’s feeling something, too.
With our arms linked, we walk down the aisle. Again, something weird happens in my chest. I need to talk to her and explain what happened back in college. Yeah, I’ve given her a half-assed apology, but what is an “I’m sorry” without an explanation? My mom had lots of apologies, Sierra deserves more than just words.
The melodic music pulls me from my thoughts as we reach the pastor standing at the head of the aisle.
Sierra and I break apart to our respective sides. Flynn whispers something in her ear, and then our eyes meet. I hold her gaze. What am I doing? Why can’t I stop looking at her?
The ceremony is emotional. I don’t understand love, but Oli and Sloane do,
and it flows from their every pore as they exchange vows. Mata remains quiet during the ceremony, and Flynn and Sierra take turns holding Quinn. When the final I do’s are said, everyone cheers, and the happy couple takes Quinn and walks down the aisle with bright, infectious smiles plastered on their faces.
They look happy, peaceful. Both are foreign emotions to me.
The wedding party is in full swing. Thankfully, Mata is sitting at the head table with Sloane, Oli, Quinn, and Pastor Carmichael. Myles, Flynn, and their twins sit close by them. I honestly think Sierra would have had a coronary if she had to babysit Mata again.
Sloane put Sierra at my table with Dave, Kelsey, and their kids. Sierra has chosen to spend her time at the bar, which sucks because I’ve watched a bunch of guys try to hit on her. Matt walks up to her, and I watch as he chats her up. She throws her head back, laughing at something he’s said, and I feel my anger rising. Of course she would like a clean-cut guy like him. He suits her.
Fuck this.
I stand from the table and stalk over to the bar. Matt needs to fuck off. I reach them without a plan. I can’t exactly punch my teammate in the face. I usually like him. I also shouldn’t drink alcohol, even though my temptation to drink is high.
“Hey, man.” Matt lifts hi
s hand for a fist pump.
“Hey.” I pump him back, but my eyes are trained on Sierra. Her face falls when she notices me.
“Having a good time?” I ask, placing my hands in my pockets. I’ve clearly cut whatever conversation she was having with Matt short. Fine by me.
“Well, I’ll go back to my table,” Matt says awkwardly. I don’t take my eyes off Sierra.
“Are you drunk?” I ask her.
“You aren’t my father.” She giggles. Yup. Definitely drunk.
“Thank goodness for that.” I chuckle.
She laughs, which is unexpected. “Not sure why that’s funny.” She covers her mouth with her hand.
“I figured since you aren’t on babysitting duty with Mata, you could spend some time at the table. You know, maybe eat something since you’re hitting the bar,” I say. I figure she isn’t usually much of a drinker.
“Holy crap, you have no idea what a relief it is not to have to watch her,” she says loudly, then she snaps her mouth shut and looks around, perhaps to see if anyone of importance heard her.
I glance around. “Your secret is safe.”
“Phew.” She palms her chest.
“Relax. After last night, I’m keeping a safe distance myself,” I say, leaning into her ear.
“That was so messed up. I got home and I was telling my roommate what happened, and she was like, ‘no fucking way,’ that doesn’t exist,” she says enthusiastically. She’s clearly loose-tongued from the alcohol. I plan on milking every minute of being with a Sierra who isn’t closed off.
“The shit that comes out of her mouth is too much.” I roll my eyes playfully and smile.
She’s laughing so hard she holds her belly.
“You have a really nice laugh, you know?”
She stops laughing, and her face pales.
“Ouch. Not the affect I wanted,” I say, taking a step back.
“Sorry.” She winces but then she turns to the bar, picks up her drink, and takes a long sip.
“What are you drinking?”
“Some mix of juice with vodka.” She shrugs and takes another long sip.
She didn’t acknowledge my comment about coming back to the table, so I try a different tactic. “Hey, how about we hit the dance floor?” I ask. She’ll probably say no, but it’s worth a shot.
Dirty Swedish Player: A Big Stick Novel Page 11
