He supplies.
“We briefly met last week, on Ayla’s birthday.”
Mom comments something on the fact that it's nice to meet him but maybe it’d be better to continue getting acquainted at a more civilised hour.
Alex nods and apologises again, he leans towards me, takes my hand in his and kisses my temple before leaving.
I follow Mom inside, bracing myself for her reaction once we're alone.
She's never been violent or abusive in any way but often enough, when Ben and I were younger, if she felt that we’d misbehaved in public, she’d act calmly until we got home and then the lecture and the grounding would happen. In private.
But the first thing she says to me as soon as she closes the front door behind her, isn't what I expect:
“Ayla, where’s your brother?”
“Isn't he in his room?”
“No.”
“He’s been hanging out with one of our neighbours, Mom.”
She tells me to stay put and leaves the house to return ten minutes later with a sleepy looking Ben.
“It's four am. Let's all go to bed and we'll talk later.”
Ben doesn't let Mom say it twice and disappears upstairs, while I hesitate for a moment.
“Ayla, tonight's behaviour was irresponsible. I thought... I was worried. And I don't like you leaving the house when I'm at work without knowing what Ben’s plans are. You're not going to be grounded because I hadn't given you a curfew. And I understand that you're eighteen. But we’ll need some rules as long as you live here. Your brother... He knows his curfew is ten pm and if he wanted to stay at the neighbours, he needed to let me or you know. He's definitely grounded and I’m going to decide for how long. I know that I’m the parent and it isn't your responsibility to watch your brother but... I honestly need your help, Ayla. In Chicago, in our neighbourhood, everybody knew us and if Ben had gotten into any trouble, I’d know immediately. Here...”
I nod.
I understand and I feel pretty shitty, especially since I’ve been meaning to talk to Ben about that joint.
I don't tell Mom, I wanna make sure that I know what we're facing before I do.
“And... Ayla?”
“Yeah?”
“That Alex... He seems nice.”
“He is, Mom.”
“If you're gonna be spending time with him, I think he should come for dinner soon.”
I nod and then kiss my Mom and head to my room.
If she’d said that she wanted to invite Alex for dinner a couple of weeks ago, I’d have been horrified.
But somehow, I think he won't mind and he’ll be so charming...
Alex
AYLA’S MOM DIDN'T SEEM too pissed off.
I’ll text her as soon as I get home to make sure that she's all right.
Maybe, I’ll send her Mom flowers tomorrow with my apologies for keeping Ayla out this late.
I used to do it all the time with Sam’s Mom when I lived with them, if I screwed up.
While the flowers didn't get me out of being grounded, I know that Mom appreciated the gesture.
And talking about Sam...
I need to speak with him later and tell him that I think he was right from the beginning: that bet was a stupid and dangerous idea.
My therapist keeps saying to me that I need to find a different coping mechanism rather than lashing out at people when I feel hurt.
And I’m not proud of the way I manipulated Tuna into wanting to compete... Ayla did not reject him. She simply said that she wouldn't have kissed him, if she'd thought that I’d feel betrayed.
She never said that she didn't want to kiss him: it's two totally different things.
Thank goodness no one ever knew about this stupid bet: if Ayla knew, she'd be devastated and think that we were just playing with her all along.
The reality is that I was scared to admit how much Ayla affected me from the very beginning.
How much I wanted her and how scared I was to get close to her because I knew that she'd make me feel.
If you don't have feelings, you can't get hurt: this is what I learned with my parents from a very early age.
So I tried to treat her like a meaningless hookup, to keep my heart safe.
Now I know that I was a complete fool: I really hope that Ayla won't hurt me but the way she makes me feel is definitely worth the risk.
I smile when I think about how soft her body feels and how trusting she was, how she'd have let me...
But I think I did the right thing by waiting: I want Ayla's first time to be special and I want the shadow of this stupid bet to be gone.
I’ll speak to Sam before he takes her out tonight: I know he’ll be relieved that I’ve come to my senses.
I smile thinking about my beautiful Ayla and how I think I’ll give her a good morning phone call, since we’ve missed our goodnight one.
And the smile dies right on my face when I stop my car and see the blonde woman standing in front of my house: Mom is out of rehab.
Sam
I LEAVE THE GYM IN my house basement and after a long shower, I decide to fit in a couple of hours of studying before I have to get ready to take my girl out for a nice, romantic meal.
I take my Latin Literature text book: Ms. Webber told us to study on the classic poets because the next test will be a passage of poetry.
I’m not doing badly at all but I got an A on the first test and an A- on the latest one.
I know that isn't a bad grade by any means but I’d rather increase my efforts: our plan has always been that the three of us go to Yale together and now that I know that Ayla wants to go there too, I can't leave anything to chance, I need to make sure to be accepted.
So I open my book to a poem by Catullus: Odi Et Amo (Translation: I hate and I love)
The poem goes:
“Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.”
(Translation: I hate and I love. Why do I do this, you perhaps ask. I do not know, but I feel it happening and am tormented.)
I don't understand what the poet means: how can you love and hate at the same time?
This sounds like something that Alex will probably understand better than me.
I chuckle, thinking about calling him and asking him about it when the book I have opened and balanced on my lap slips off and a folded piece of paper slips out.
It looks like a girly handwriting: I unfold it and gasp with surprise.
My heart is beating so fast that I feel it echoing in my ears and I have to sit down because I can't comprehend what I'm reading.
I check the book and on the first page after the cover, I see her name: Ayla Jennings.
We must have swapped books by accident on Friday, when we dropped them before leaving class.
The piece of paper says:
PROS AND CONS LIST TO LOSE VIRGINITY TO A-TEAM.
CANDIDATES: ALEX, SAM AND TUNA
ALEX:
PROS: Most popular, Richest, Hottest, best dick out of the three.
CONS: Asshole, least likely to make serious commitment, probably my Mom wouldn't like him.
SAM:
PROS: Sweetest. Seems in love with me. Mom would like him. Owns a whole Island in the Pacific Ocean.
CONS: I really don't like the way his dick looks: too big and curved. Useless at fingering: had to totally fake orgasm, so definitely not losing Virginity to him! He's boring: Alex and Tuna are way more fun; the brooding type is so 2010!
TUNA:
PROS: Funniest. Really sexy eyes. He’s the dumbest out of the three (easy to persuade him to become exclusive).
CONS: Smallest dick. He’s the dumbest out of the three. His table manners are questionable.
I throw the book against the wall so hard that it chips the plaster.
I’m in love with that girl. I WAS in love with that girl...
How could she?
Why did she pretend to like me?
It
looks like she likes Alex and Tuna better and I’m her third choice.
Her plan C in a quest to popularity?
A rich boyfriend?
And I took her to meet my Dad!
I almost told her that I love her last week.
And she's been lying about everything.
A tear escapes from my eye and I wipe it away vehemently: she can't know how insecure I am about my body.
My friends teased me mercilessly in middle school about my cock being huge and curved.
And I’ve always been reluctant to be naked in front of a girl, especially because even Michelle made me wait for ages before sleeping with me because she was scared about how big I was.
And she faked her orgasm?
Why not tell me if what I was doing didn't feel good?
Probably because she doesn't care about me and I'm only a mean to an end.
I shake my head, tasting bitterness in my mouth: now I understand that poem.
I still love her but I hate her for being untruthful and for using the three of us.
And I hate myself for still caring about her.
Maybe Alex was right all along, maybe I should play with her the same way she's playing with me.
If that's what she wants, I know what to do: I’ll win that fucking bet and then we’ll see who's the loser!
I KNOW THAT AYLA LOVES Chinese food and I’d booked a table at my favourite restaurant in the whole world, where they make their own noodles and the Peking duck is to die for.
But after that list...
I don't want to go to my favorite place and have it tainted forever by the way I’m feeling right now.
If my brothers hadn't been involved with her too, I’d have broken up with her tonight.
But I can't let her keep fooling the three of us with her innocent girl act.
Since Alex wanted to play, we’ll play.
Ayla's very pretty, so sleeping with her is by no means a sacrifice.
And satisfaction aside to having won the bet, I’d get Alex’s Ducati and Tuna’s house in Barbados, so...
Yeah, let's play this game and see who’s gonna be the winner at the end.
When she walks from her front door to my car, I notice how beautiful she looks in a light pink dress all made of lace that makes her look like a modern time princess.
Her long auburn hair is resting on one of her shoulders and she's wearing pink ballet flats that make her look small and delicate, like one of those little ballerinas inside a music box.
I decided to take her to a hip fusion place in downtown LA and the conversation between us is always interesting.
I have to give it to her, she’s so good at faking it!
By the way she looks at me, the way she keeps touching my hand... You’d think that she really likes me.
Maybe that she even feels the same way I do... Did, about her.
When two super famous Hollywood stars and a rockstar come past our table on the way out of the restaurant and she doesn't even turn to look at them, I almost doubt what I read with my very eyes.
She doesn't seem interested in fame and money.
“Sam, honey, you're so quiet tonight. You look almost... Distracted.”
“Sorry, sugar.”
Never have words sounded more bitter than the endearment I’ve been using for her.
“It's just that I’ve got so much on my mind, with the last game of the season and the application for Yale... I really want an early admission.”
She takes my hand and squeezes it gently: her warmth seeps through to my skin and her eyes are shiny and beautiful.
I wanna hold her and kiss her and hear her say that she loves me and I wanna be able to believe it.
I think about showing her that list for a second but obviously she’d deny it and then it would be my choice again if I believe her or not.
Maybe if she made love to me tonight, that would mean that what I read on that list isn't true?
I’m torturing myself and I’m so miserable: I gave her my heart, I opened up to her and she wrote that list.
The handwriting was the same as the notes on her book.
“Sam? You honestly look like you're miles away.”
I stand up, leave a bunch of cash on the table, way too much for our check but who cares?
I take her hand, starting to walk outside and she follows me quietly.
When we get to my car, I walk to the passenger side to open the door for her and before she has the chance to get inside, I cup her jaw with one of my hands and kiss her.
Her lips are soft and they taste of the strawberry sorbet we just ate at the end of our meal.
I give her a deep kiss, a possessive kiss: she must know that I want her and if she's playing games, now it's the time to quit, because I’ve just started to play and I play to win.
“I wanna be alone with you, sugar. Come to my house?”
She nods, pressing herself against me, her floral scent invading all my senses.
I drive quietly, my thoughts still in total turmoil: how do I know if that list is real?
I don't wanna accept that she's been faking everything between us.
I’m hurting so bad...
The only thing I can think about is winning that bet: if she gives herself to me, maybe...
If she chooses me...
My house is quiet and dark: no one's home and it's completely normal for a Sunday night.
Anyway the house is so big that my parents could be here and we might not even realise that we're all home.
I guide her upstairs, straight to my room and she follows me quietly.
I empty my pockets on my night stand, setting down my wallet and phone and I hesitate for a split second before turning on my phone to record but if I’m playing to win the bet.
I turn to her, take her hand again and guide her towards my bed: I don't say anything, I sit on the edge of the mattress with Ayla standing between my legs and I kiss her again.
Ayla
SAM IS DIFFERENT TONIGHT: I know that something is bothering him but I don't wanna make him feel like he has to tell me unless he wants to.
His kisses aren't his normal sweet ones: he's more aggressive and dominant, he reminds me of Alex at the beginning.
But his lips still have the usual effect on me: I melt against him and I let him take control, trusting that he’d never hurt me.
I’m standing between his legs and while his mouth explores mine, his hands find the zipper that closes my dress and when the lace slips to the floor, leaving me in my pink bra and matching panties, I shiver under the dark intensity of his blue eyes.
Again, he reminds me of his best friend right now.
He takes his shirt off and I open the buckle of his belt and help him out of his slacks.
We look at each other for a long moment: like this, with him sitting and me standing up, we’re the same height and his eyes won't leave mine, as if he were trying to look deep inside me.
When he skims his big hands down my shoulders and all the way down to my chest, I close my eyes and enjoy his touch.
I gasp when I feel his mouth around my nipples and a helpless moan escapes my lips when he grazes me with his teeth.
I place one of my hands on his chest to make him move so that there's space for me to kneel on the edge of the mattress, straddling his hips.
‘Take your underwear off.”
I whisper grabbing the elastic of his waistband and dragging his boxer briefs down.
He helps me out of my panties and then surrounds my hips with his strong arms, his hardness rubbing on my crotch and he’s so big that his tip reaches my belly button.
He kisses me again and I stroke him slowly, up and down, a little tentatively at first because I’ve really never done this before.
I know I’m wet and I need something: the touch of his fingers or his kisses because I’m throbbing and if I don't find release, I think I’ll explode.
I didn't know that I could feel this way,
not until I met them, the Alexs, like I sometimes think of them as.
Sam holds me tighter and drags me down with him on the mattress.
One of his fingers teases my entrance but when I close my eyes, eager to feel his digit fill me like he did last time, I notice that he's taken his hand away.
One of his hands is now gripping my hip and the other, is trying to guide his tip inside me.
I feel his velvety skin touch the bottom of my opening and trying to push himself in.
I place both my hands on his chest, palms flat against it and I push him gently away.
“Sam, I... I’ve never—”
“I know, Ayla. I want you so much ... I want you to be mine.”
I want him too but right now this doesn't feel right.
If he’d tried to have sex with me last week, I’d have let him without hesitation but tonight he's... He’s got a tortured intensity that is scaring me a little.
“I’m not on birth control anyway. So we can't—”
“I’ve got condoms.”
I know I’m in love with Sam, I knew last week, when he took me to meet his Dad.
But I honestly don't know if this is right: I think I need to talk to him and Alex together and with Tuna because if I make love to one of them, I don't want the others to be hurt.
If I make love to one of them, it doesn't mean I’ve chosen. I hope that we could do what Alex said, that we could all be together.
But until I know that that's what the guys want too, I can't give myself to one of them.
“Sam, I’m not ready.”
His eyes darken with disappointment and doubt:
“Is it that you aren't ready or you don't want it with me? Is it that you don't like being with me this way?”
“Of course not, honey! You’ve no idea how much I want you. You're perfect. Handsome, smart, strong...”
I’m looking at his body and it takes me all my restraint not to change my mind: it's just that something in him tonight is different and it's raising a red flag.
I wanna make love to him, I just don't wanna regret it.
Sam pushes his hips slightly up, so that he's no longer aligned with my opening and then whispers in my ear:
“I’m not gonna take anything that you're not ready to give, sugar. I hope you know how much I care about you.”
The Initiation: A High School Light Bully Romance (Beverly Hills Prep Academy Book 1) Page 18
