[2016] Bad Judgment

by Meghan March

  “Are you asking me or telling me?”

  “I don’t think I want to tell you.” The turnoff to Merica’s apartment is coming up, so I point. “Right at the light and then the first right after that. I’m going to Knob Hill.”

  “And who are you going to see in Knob Hill?”

  “Not really your business.”

  We pull into the parking lot and I direct him to Merica’s building, where, predictably, she’s standing on her balcony, wrapping hot pink Christmas lights around a palm tree. She’s already done the pink flamingos.

  She pauses to take in the sexy car, and when I open the door, her eyes widen. “Hot ride!”

  Ian is glancing up at her. “What’s her name?”

  “She has a boyfriend. Thanks for the ride.” I shut the door and head for the stairs.

  He rolls down the window. “Tell her I’m taking her out on Friday night. I’ll be here to pick her up at eight.”

  “She has a boyfriend! Thanks for the ride!” I repeat, this time with more force.

  He smirks at me as he backs out and roasts the tires before taking off.

  Merica’s watching, a bemused expression on her face. “It’s definitely time for wine, and you to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Justine

  The scent of fresh-baked bread hits me when I walk through Merica’s unlocked door. Carbs. Thank God. I need them.

  Merica comes in from the balcony and slides the door shut behind her. She cocks a hip and puts a hand on it.

  “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Did you already pour the wine?”

  “Of course.”

  An hour later, I finish my third glass of wine and Merica stares at me slack-jawed. A half-eaten loaf of amazingly delicious bread and the remains of a demolished stick of butter sit between us.

  “Ho. Ly. Shit. How did you keep this to yourself? Seriously. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I told you, Justice Grant told me I couldn’t. But I decided I had to invoke the unwritten, unspoken best friend exception, even if I’m technically violating the contract.”

  “Screw the contract. This is way too important to worry about that.”

  “But what the hell am I going to do? I feel like I’m crossing a line here.”

  “Ryker’s the one that threw down the deal, though, right? He’s the one pushing you to study with him. So what if he’s motivated by pussy and blow jobs now? He’s a guy—they’re always motivated by pussy and blow jobs. Now you know he’s going to get the grades and you get your tuition paid. You’re not doing anything wrong, Jus.”

  Which is exactly what I’ve been attempting to get myself to believe. I’m not doing anything wrong. Right?

  “You really don’t think I’m crossing into the gray area here?”

  Merica reaches for the box of wine and slides it over the edge of the table before holding her glass underneath the spout and pressing the button. When it’s filled an inch from the brim, she releases the button and raises it to her lips.

  “You wouldn’t be wrestling with this so much if you didn’t think you were. But I think you need to cut yourself a break. You’ve busted your ass for every single thing you’ve ever gotten. You got dealt a shitty hand in so many ways, and to lose a full ride at the beginning of third year? That’s just another epically shitty blow. Life is just a series of decisions. What other acceptable choice did you have? None. I know it, and you know it. So make your peace with the fact that you did what you had to do and move on.”

  I’m afraid to give voice to the last concern rolling around in my head. I refill my glass and take a long swallow before I find the courage to put it into words.

  “But what if this actually becomes something . . . real? Then what?”

  Merica studies me, probably catching all my nervous tells. “Do you think it’s going to?”

  “I don’t know. We’re going in totally different directions. I want to work at Legal Aid and make a difference. I don’t think he has a clue what he wants to do with his life. At this point, I just know that I don’t hate spending time together. I actually . . . I kind of like him, even though I didn’t want to.”

  Merica’s shrewd gaze assesses me—hearing all the things I’m saying and all the things I’m not. “Do you think you could fall for him?”

  It’s a question I’ve been avoiding asking myself because I’m afraid to even consider the possibility. “I don’t know. I just . . . I’m worried about what would happen if in some crazy parallel universe, I did.”

  “There’s no point in borrowing trouble now. Just roll with it. Maybe you both kill the midterm, have your fling and the sex sucks, and you move on.”

  A smile tugs at my lips because I can’t imagine the sex could possibly suck. But she’s right—I’m always planning my life out seventeen steps ahead, and right now, I just need to focus on the next goal in front of me, not a bunch of stuff I can’t control. Like she said, why borrow trouble?

  Merica lifts her glass again and after she sips, she taps a nail on the side. “Now tell me, how big is that package he’s packing? Is it everything Becca said it was and more?”

  I choke on my wine mid-swallow at her question. After I finish coughing up a lung, I stare her down. “Did I not just tell you I might like him, like him?”

  She nods.

  “And you’re still asking me this?”

  “Of course. Friends don’t let friends date guys with small penises. If it’s avoidable, that is.”

  “Let’s just say I have no complaints.”

  A grin stretches across her face. “I knew it! For all that you’ve avoided men, you wouldn’t jump back into the game for a small cock.” She holds her glass aloft. “But this does deserve a toast. To Justine, may you get everything you’ve ever wanted, including all the best orgasms.”

  I lift my wineglass and clink against hers. “Cheers.”

  “So tell me, who was that hottie in the car? Are you thinking of taking them both on? Are you up for the two-dicks-and-one-chick situation?”

  The base of my wineglass smacks against the table as I sit it down. “Hell no. There will be only one dick approaching this chick.”

  Her laugh fills the room. “That’s what I thought. Well, if Jimmy ever gets boring . . .”

  I grab another chunk of bread and toss it at her head.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ryker

  When I said I’d be able to concentrate and do nothing but study with Justine, I was way too fucking optimistic about my willpower.

  It’s been weeks. Weeks of staring at her across this table at Unwired, doing my reading for all my classes, taking notes, working on outlines, and studying for this Professional Responsibility midterm. I’ve got calluses on top of calluses from beating off every night. Fuck, I’ve never gotten this much action from my hand since I was thirteen and hadn’t yet discovered the magic of pussy.

  Justine, on the other hand, does a better job of looking unaffected, but I can see the frustration in her posture. I’ve choked back more sexual innuendo and compliments than I can count, and I think she actually misses it.

  In these weeks of studying, things have changed. I don’t just want her lips wrapped around my cock. I don’t just want her legs wrapped around my waist as I sink deep inside her. Because if that’s all I wanted, I could have gotten it.

  Now I’m addicted to her. Every fucking thing about her. Not just her eyes and hair and tits and ass—but her jokes, her quips, her observations. Just her.

  Fucked. That’s what I am. Totally and completely fucked. I’m hung up on a girl for more reasons than the physical, and I know that’s where the trouble lies. I need her to feel the same way, and I have no fucking clue if she does.

  We’ve become friends, but even now she keeps me at a distance. She rides her bike to Unwired, not letting me give her a lift, even when it’s dark and it pisses me off that she’s riding alone at night. She p
retends not to notice that I wait for her to get a head start, and then I follow her home in my car because I hate that she’s still living in that shithole Gilroy complex. But there’s nothing I can do or say to change her mind. The girl has more pride than any man I’ve ever met.

  And why the hell does that turn me on even more? Maybe because I’ve dated too many girls who were impressed with the money my family has and my parents’ positions. With Justine, I know that none of that holds any appeal for her. She’s not impressed by anything other than how much effort I’m willing to put into school.

  Justine snaps her finger in front of my face. “Hey, are you paying attention? I’ve been talking for five minutes, and you’re staring into space like you’re out of it. What’s your deal?”

  “I was staring at your lips.”

  Her eyes widen, and for the first time since we struck our revised deal, I’m referring to the prize on the line.

  Going all in, I add, “They’re distracting as hell.”

  Justine’s gaze drops to the table. “We’re studying.”

  “The midterm is in three days, and we’re both getting As.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should stop studying now and take any chances.”

  I drag my focus back to the case in front of me. “Okay.” I read the next three sentences before I speak again. “There’s a costume party Saturday night. At Green’s Square. You going?”

  Justine looks up as she pops a Pez candy into her mouth from her Captain America dispenser. She crunches the candy before responding.

  Yep, I’m fucked, because I even think that’s sexy as hell.

  “Merica wants to go. She’s got a sexy Tinkerbell costume she made last weekend. She’s been trying to talk me into going as Wonder Woman.”

  The thought of Justine in tights and a cape . . . I shift on the cushion of the booth as my cock sits up and takes notice. “I’m putting my full support and approval behind that idea.”

  She smirks. “Figures that you would.”

  “Babe, you’re already Wonder Woman without the cape and tights. With them, you’ll be a fucking wet dream come true.”

  Justine’s cheeks flush before she drops her gaze back to her book.

  Just wait until after the midterm . . .

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Justine

  I didn’t think it would be this hard. I truly didn’t. But sitting across from Ryker four days a week and pretending I’m just studying has been hellish.

  He’s not just the pretty face I wanted him to be. He’s smart. He’s witty. He’s . . . dangerous. And without the sexual innuendo I expected him to be constantly throwing into conversation, he’s become even more intriguing. Not that I have a problem with innuendo. I don’t. But when I was expecting it, and then instead I get studious-and-determined Ryker . . . it’s like Justine’s kryptonite has been located and identified.

  Two weeks ago he stopped playing fair. He showed up in glasses. Dark rimmed, sexy as hell, and totally unexpected. If someone would have told me that Ryker could get any more attractive, I would have said they were on crack. But I was wrong. Completely and totally wrong.

  I keep edging toward this sign in my head that reads Danger, Do Not Cross This Line.

  I know I told Merica that I liked him liked him, but even then I didn’t truly understand the full magnitude of the situation. Now I’m facing actual feelings that aren’t all tied up in the physical side of things. We’re only days away from our midterm, and Babcock has already told us she’ll have the grades back before Halloween.

  Every time I think about the midterm, I think about the deal we struck. One that I made for more than just the reasons he did, but regardless—I’m anxious to cash in on both my prize and his.

  There’s nothing I’ve been able to do or say to change the facts. I want him.

  I’ve been having sex dreams lately, for goodness’ sake. Sex dreams. About Ryker. I’ve never been this strung out in my entire life. But now we’ve got emotions running together, and I’m afraid things are going to get really, truly complicated.

  But as long as his grades and mine stay up . . . what harm is it?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Justine

  Ryker: Are you ready for tonight? Because I know I am. This guy got his A. Now I get the girl.

  I stare down at my phone, and I know what he’s talking about. My heart hammers and my stomach flip-flops.

  Babcock was late posting the grades and I’ve been hitting refresh all day like a crazy person. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

  I made myself back away from the computer and do my reading for another class.

  As soon as I read Ryker’s text, I run to my computer and pull up the grade portal. The browser seems to take forever to load.

  Come on. Come on.

  What if he got an A and I didn’t?

  I’m nervous every time I check my grades, but never more so than right now.

  I screw up my login and password twice before I have to wipe my hands on my jeans and enter each letter slowly. The page loads and I click on Professional Responsibility.

  Another agonizing ten seconds pass before my grade pops onto the screen.

  I got an A.

  A lump rises in my throat.

  Holy. Shit. This is really happening. Tonight.

  Why does it seem so much more intense right now because I know exactly what’s coming? Anticipation turns into chill bumps covering my bare arms as I glance at the Wonder Woman costume hanging in my tiny closet. Merica has an ace hand at sewing, and she spent the entire last weekend making it.

  How do I answer his text? What do I say?

  We’ve built what has become one of the most important friendships I’ve ever had, and now we’re going to complicate it to hell and back. I’m afraid to lose this—lose him—but I’m even more afraid not to take the next step.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I can do this. I can have it all.

  At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.

  Crossing back to my phone, I formulate a reply.

  Justine: What if I didn’t get an A?

  Ryker’s response is instant.

  Ryker: Stop bullshitting me because we know that’s not possible.

  Justine: Well . . .

  I jump when my phone rings instead of vibrating with a text.

  Ryker’s voice comes through the phone. “Tell me right now—are you having second thoughts?”

  “I’m having all the thoughts. I don’t know if they’re first, second, third, or fourth.”

  Silence hangs on the phone for a moment. “We made a deal.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I know.”

  “I’m holding you to it.”

  My eyes fly open at his adamant tone. “What if I changed my mind?”

  “You didn’t.” There’s no hesitation in his reply and his words are underlined by conviction. “You want this just as much as I do. You’re just afraid to admit it.”

  That’s where he’s wrong. I’m not afraid to admit it anymore. I’m just afraid of the consequences. Either way, I’m holding up my end of the bargain.

  “I’ll see you at Green’s?” I say, not giving him the answer he’s looking for.

  “Damn right, you will. You’re going home with me.”

  “’Bye, Ryker.”

  The line goes dead without him responding.

  Anxiety creeps up my spine. How is tonight going to go? Merica will be here any minute to pick me up on her way home from class so we can get ready at her place. Full-on hair and makeup—the works.

  I lift the costume from the hanger carefully, knowing that Ryker will be slipping it off me tonight. A riot of emotions ricochet through me.

  I can do this. I can have it all. That’s my mantra.

  Let’s just hope it’s the truth.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Justine

  “The car will be here in three minutes!” Merica calls as I stand in front of the mi
rror in her bathroom.

  “I’ll be out in a second,” I yell through the door.

  “You look hot, so don’t change anything.”

  If I were the kind of girl to take mirror selfies and post them on some social-media platform, now would be the perfect time. Like Merica said, I make a pretty hot Wonder Woman, even from an objective standpoint.

  I wonder what Ryker will think. Scratch that, I already know what he’s going to think. My boobs look amazing, and the tights and bodysuit hug my every curve. I rarely feel overcome with confidence, but a combination of Merica’s skills and the earlier call from Ryker have me walking out of the bathroom feeling like I can conquer the world.

  Green’s Square, the token Irish pub in our college town, is decked out for Halloween and packed with girls dressed in the sexy version of every traditional costume imaginable. Luckily, it seems that Merica and I are the only Tinkerbell and Wonder Woman duo, at least so far.

  I spy Kristy Horner in the crowd, dressed as a slutty angel with the coolest wings I’ve ever seen, and she gives me a once-over before looking away.

  Think whatever you want, Kristy. We look good.

  My eyes scan the room for Ryker, but I don’t see his tall frame. Merica drags me toward the bar, inserting herself between two guys who step aside as soon as they get a look at her as naughty Tinkerbell. I squeeze in next to her, ready to have a distraction in the form of a drink in my hand. Luckily, Merica’s not afraid to flash a little cleavage to get a bartender’s attention, and we’re served in no time.

  We scoop up our Halloween drink specials before scanning the surroundings to snag an empty table.

  Where is Ryker? Shouldn’t he be here by now?

  I’m not sure what I’m more afraid of—that I’ll lose my nerve, or that I’m going to drag him out of here as soon as he walks in.