[2016] Bad Judgment

by Meghan March

  “Hey, hottie! We need to talk.” Merica is coming toward the café, book in hand and a determined look in her eyes.

  Oh crap. “Hey, sorry, I just got out of Advocacy. Today was mind-numbingly boring.”

  “Try taking Federal Income Tax. Boring doesn’t even begin to cover it. All I know is the IRS is the devil and that whole tax code needs to go in the shredder. Let’s just have one rule instead of a fucking zillion that I have to memorize for the final. Why did I think this was a good idea?”

  I could remind Merica that her stepfather insisted she take the class, but it’s not exactly a reminder she’s going to appreciate.

  We get into line behind ten other students, and Merica pins me with a direct stare. “So, what’s this I hear about you and Ryker arguing in the parking garage? And you getting a ride with him? Have you seen the package? Can you confirm the rumors?”

  I would have thought it was impossible to laugh, but leave it to Merica to have giggles breaking free from my throat. It’s good to know that some things don’t change, including the fact that my best friend is amazing.

  “Don’t even start that rumor,” I reply, unwilling to confirm or deny, even though I have the inside information she’s after. Now is not the time or the place. Besides, I’m not thinking about Ryker Grant’s penis ever again. Never. Ever.

  Nothing like setting yourself up for failure, I chide myself, knowing that I’m spouting nothing but nonverbal lies.

  “Then tell me the truth so I won’t have to use my overly vivid imagination.”

  Only six students ahead of us now, and I’m praying the barista picks up his pace, because at least two of them are not even pretending to ignore us. The girl in front of Merica just straight-up turned around.

  Merica glares at her. “Do you mind? We’re having a conversation.”

  The girl glares back and shoves her earbuds in her ears, and my best friend’s attention is immediately back on me, one eyebrow raised.

  “I stayed at his parents’ house last night. It’s a really long story.”

  Merica’s eyes bulge wide. “You did what?”

  I fill her in on the break-in, but not the dirty details of last night. That’s not something I want to get into in the middle of the student café.

  By the time I’m finished, Merica’s mouth is hanging open. “You’re coming over tonight to tell me the rest and we’re drinking box wine.”

  “You have no idea how badly I need that. I get off work at seven.”

  “I’ll be ready and waiting. Tonight I’m trying that bread maker my mom gave me for my birthday in an attempt to turn me into a domestic goddess. This situation calls for carbs too. You should probably wear yoga pants.”

  “I love you, Mer.”

  “Love you more, Jus.”

  I’m outside the law school and heading for the bus stop to get to work when Ryker’s Camaro slows at the curb.

  “Get in.”

  My hackles are up as soon as the words are out. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

  “You don’t have a car. Your shift starts at the library in twenty minutes, and you’re going to be late if you take the bus.”

  I stop in midstride. “How do you know that?”

  “I called the library and flirted with the girl to give me your schedule.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious. Now, get in the car so I can take you to work.”

  I make a noise low in my throat that sounds a little too close to a growl. “You’re impossible.” But still, I stalk toward the car and yank open the door I jumped out of so quickly this morning.

  “Determined.”

  “Maybe you should apply that trait to school.”

  “I already am, thanks to you.”

  He pulls away from the curb but instead of heading toward the business school, he takes the second exit out of the traffic circle.

  “Where the hell are you going? I need to get to work.”

  “And I know you’ve got twenty minutes, so I’m going to make use of them.” He turns and flashes me a grin.

  This. This right here is why I’ve avoided Ryker for two years. Because when his attention is focused on you, it makes you want to soak it all up. The more time I spend with him, the more I realize that not only am I not immune to it, I’m more susceptible than ever. That’s dangerous.

  Ryker turns into the lot outside the performing arts center, shifts the car into neutral, and pulls the emergency brake before turning to face me.

  “I miss the taste of your pussy already.”

  Oh my God! Did he really say that?

  “You can’t say things like that to me.” My words come out higher pitched than I expect.

  “Then how are you going to know how fucking bad I want you? I can’t stop thinking about it. I want more.”

  And I can’t have more.

  “We can’t do this.”

  His grin fades. “Fuck if we can’t. We are doing this.”

  I have to use the only kind of honesty he’s going to understand and pray that he respects it. “No, because if you’re thinking about my pussy and how much you want my lips wrapped around your cock or burying yourself inside me, you’re not thinking about school. And guess what? I’m not too proud to admit that I can’t concentrate if I’m thinking about it either. This is exactly why I’ve been shutting you down. This year is too important to screw up because you want to scratch an itch.”

  “This isn’t an itch, Justine. I’ve been there, done that. This is something completely fucking different.”

  Dammit, I want to believe him when he tells me how different this is—and that terrifies me.

  “You need to focus on school. I need to focus on school. We’re not doing this.”

  “What are you scared of? Tell me the truth. Not some bullshit answer.” His blue eyes drill into mine, demanding an honest response. So I give him one.

  “I’m afraid that you’re the ultimate distraction, and I won’t be able to help myself. I’ll just get sucked in deeper and deeper until I forget why I need to keep my priorities straight.”

  His stare intensifies, and I wish I could read his mind. It’s like he’s working out a complex analysis in his head.

  “Then let’s make a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Suspicion coats my every word.

  “The kind that incentivizes us both.”

  I glance at the clock in the dash. “You’ve got five minutes, and I need to get to work.”

  “This will only take two, because you’re going to say yes.”

  “Cocky bastard,” I murmur under my breath.

  He pays no mind to my comment. “If we both get As on the Professional Responsibility midterm, we both a get a reward.”

  “What kind of reward?”

  “I get your lips wrapped around my cock, and you get all the orgasms you can handle—any way you want them.”

  I fight to keep my blush from creeping up my neck. “And how is that going to help?”

  “Because we’ll both study our asses off—me, because I want you, and you, because you would anyway . . . and you want my cock, even if you won’t come out and admit it. We’ll keep studying like we have been, and after the midterm, we both reap the rewards.”

  “Just study?”

  He meets my skeptical stare head-on. “I can’t promise I won’t kiss you again. You can’t expect me to agree not to touch you at all. But we will study. Both of us. You think I’m going to fuck up my grades if you’re the prize? No way in hell.”

  “And your other classes?”

  “I’ll fucking rock those too. We both will. I’m going to prove that not only are we hot as fuck in the bedroom, we’re going to kick ass in class.”

  How can I say no to that? Honestly, he’s almost making this too easy. He gets the best grades of his life and makes his father happy, and I get everything I’m willing to admit that I want and everything I’m not. For the first time in my life, I can have my cake
and eat it too. What other answer can I possibly give than yes?

  I wait only a few moments before I tell him what he wants to hear. “Okay. You’ve got a deal.”

  I hold out my hand and he wraps his fingers around it, but rather than shaking it, he pulls me halfway over the center console before burying his other hand in my hair and lowering his lips to mine.

  His tongue steals inside as he takes control. I’m lost in the kiss, forgetting everything, including the time, when he finally pulls back.

  “We’re going to make a hell of a team, Justine. Now let’s get you to work.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Justine

  I make it to work five minutes early, and my first order of business is to figure out what I’m going to do with my car. It’s still sitting in the Unwired parking lot, and a quick call there and a chat with a manager tells me they’ll give me another few hours before they have it towed to a lot and send me the bill. Just the thought of how expensive it will probably be to fix has me considering all my options.

  Regardless of what’s wrong with it, even the cheapest repair job is going to max out my budget and cost more than the car is worth. The next call I make hurts, but my choices are limited. It looks like I’ll be using some of the four hundred dollars from the junkyard to buy myself a bike.

  It also means that I’ll be hopping the bus to Merica’s house and arriving a little later than planned. No worries, though. It won’t be the first time I’ve bussed it, and I’m certainly not the only student on this campus to be sans car. The hipsters think it’s super cool to ride vintage Schwinns and shun anything with four wheels and an engine.

  I’m nearing the end of my shift when a guy comes up to the counter and stands in front of me, waiting a solid thirty seconds before he clears his throat as I’m highlighting the facts of a case.

  I drop the highlighter and jerk my attention to his face. Have I seen him here before? Messy blond hair, green eyes, a smirk that rivals Ryker’s—stop right there.

  “Can I help you?”

  “You’re a law student?”

  I glance down at the two other casebooks stacked beside the open one. “Your observational skills are impressive.”

  His eyes narrow as he studies me. “You got a name?”

  Mine narrow right back at him. “Does it matter?”

  “I just want to know if you’re who I think you are.”

  Well, that’s creepy. “Can I help you with something? Library related? You know, because that’s my job, not answering your questions and confirming suspicions.”

  He pulls out a phone and before I realize what he’s doing, I hear the click of the camera app and a small flash bursts from the front.

  Yes, very creepy. My hand goes to the staff phone on the desk next to my books. Two calls to campus police in one week is more than I need to deal with.

  “What the hell are you doing?” And where the hell does this guy get the audacity to take a picture of me?

  “I told you, I want to know if you are who I think you are.”

  “I’m calling campus police. You need to leave. Now. And delete the picture.”

  He’s tapping out something on the screen and within moments, a self-satisfied grin stretches his face. “Figured I was right.” He looks up at me. “Great to meet you, Justine. Now I see the appeal.”

  Excuse me? It’s official. He’s really fucking creepy.

  “How do you—” I start, and he turns his phone around so I can see the screen.

  The top of the chat window says “R-Fucking-G” and I have only one guess as to who that could be. Glancing down at the messages, I see a new chat bubble pop up just below the picture and the one that says—yeah, that’s her.

  The new chat bubble reads: Don’t forget, she’s mine. Hands off.

  Yes, I know exactly who that is. I lower the phone into the cradle.

  “Okay, it would’ve been way less sketchy if you had just told me you’re a friend of Ryker’s.”

  “Nah, this was more fun.”

  This guy is a nut. “Is there something you needed?”

  “I heard you on the phone earlier. You’re really having a junkyard come pick up your car? That blows, girly.”

  “One, don’t call me girly. And two, thank you for the concern, but it isn’t anything I need anyone worrying about. Three, if you tell Ryker—” I lean forward on my elbows and lower my voice. While he’s waiting for me to continue, he ducks his head closer. “I’ll check out a hundred books in this library in your name and make them all two years overdue, and you won’t be able to graduate until you pay the fines.”

  He jerks back and straightens. “Whoa. Calm down. I’m not trying to cause any trouble. I just want to know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

  We undoubtedly means him and Ryker, and I don’t need Ryker to know anything about this.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. If you’d just keep this to yourself, I’d appreciate it. I don’t need my business spread all over town. First off, it’s nobody’s problem but my own, and second, it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like I wasn’t going to junk it eventually. My timeline just sped up a little.”

  Why am I telling him this? Stop sharing unnecessary information, Justine.

  “You need a ride home from work?” He looks down at a big and undoubtedly expensive watch on his wrist. “Ryker told me you might, and I figure I can waste another hour before the walls start closing in on me.”

  I glance at my phone for the time out of instinct, even though I have no intention of accepting a ride from some random guy I don’t know—regardless of whether he’s Ryker’s friend.

  While I’m debating, his thumbs are flying and he’s tapping out something on his phone. Moments later, my cell vibrates on the counter with a text.

  Ryker: Take the ride from Ian. He’s a good guy and he knows I’ll rip his balls off if he tries anything with you.

  The blond, who I now assume is Ian, waits for me to look up from my phone with a smirk. “Just take the ride, Justine.”

  These guys are freaking impossible. But I do need to get to Merica’s because I’m in desperate need of wine, carbs, and my best friend’s advice. I wonder for a moment if Ryker told him where I live.

  “I’m headed to a friend’s house. She lives about ten minutes east of campus.”

  He shrugs. “No big deal. It’s just completely out of my way.”

  “Then I’ll take the bus, no big deal.”

  Ian eyes me with a raised blond brow. “I’m giving you a ride. Be ready at seven and we’re out of here.”

  Exactly fifty-five minutes later, I punch my timecard in the office and head for the side door. I’ve decided I’m not accepting a ride from Ryker’s friend, especially not after the four text messages I didn’t respond to. The ones that said:

  Ryker: Take the ride.

  Ryker: Don’t be stubborn.

  Ryker: Ian says you’re junking your car.

  Ryker: Don’t do anything until I talk to you.

  Ian is a little tattletale. I asked him not to mention it, and he blabbed to his buddy anyway.

  When I hit the parking lot and head for the bus stop, I see a bright red sports car parked at the curb where the bus should be in ten minutes.

  I take a seat on the bench inside the clear plastic shelter, and the passenger window on the car rolls down.

  I knew it would be him.

  “Get in the car.”

  Ian’s blond hair is mussed like he’s been shoving his hands through it while he waited.

  “I appreciate the offer, but it’s totally out of your way, and I don’t take rides from people I just met. I’m good with the bus.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes—”

  Ian cuts me off. “Look, you’re not my girlfriend, so this arguing shit is really obnoxious when I’m not getting any pussy. Just get in the car so you can get where you need to go without having to sit on the bus for an hour. I’ll have you t
here in ten minutes.”

  This guy is impossible, but it doesn’t make accepting his offer any less rational. I mentally toss my hands in the air and give in.

  As soon as we’re off campus, he flies along the backcountry roads. With his car’s sleek lines and arrest-me red paint color, I doubt that Ian is really interested in the posted speed limit. Staring out my window, I wonder if we’re truly going to make this entire ride in silence. Small talk isn’t my greatest skill, and I have no idea what to say to him, but within moments I’m wishing I’d come up with something.

  “So, are you fucking him for the money or are you fucking him for the position his dad has?” Ian’s question is without preamble, and surprisingly, I don’t detect a hint of malice. His tone is solidly matter-of-fact.

  I yank my gaze off the fields to land on him as he expertly shifts the car and slows for a stoplight. “Um . . . neither, because I’m not fucking him at all.”

  Ian’s head swings toward me, surprise—no doubt at my honesty—arching his eyebrow. “No shit? Damn, he’s losing his touch.”

  “We’re studying. We’re . . . friends. That’s it.” If I don’t sound one hundred percent confident, it’s because I don’t know what we are any more. And the deal Ryker and I made this afternoon . . . how does that change things?

  I catch Ian’s eye roll at my answer before he shifts into gear and attempts to break land-speed records for zero to sixty miles per hour. Or maybe that’s the way Ian drives. I’m beginning to suspect it’s the latter.

  “What’s your hang-up? You’re sexy as shit. He’s been obviously sniffing around for way too fucking long for you not to realize how bad he wants in your pants.”

  “Aren’t you blowing the bro code here? Spilling his secrets?”

  “Nah, it’s no secret. You’re not an idiot, which you’d have to be if you hadn’t figured that out already. But since you’re in denial, there’s nothing I can do to really help his cause. So, moving on . . . You have any hot friends who like to bang on the first date?”

  Confirmed, this guy is a nut. “Umm. I don’t know?”