Faking It: A Small Town College Bad Boy Romance

by Hunter Rose

  Maxine cuts her off. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.” She wraps her arms around Vanessa and pulls her into a hug.

  “Let’s go back to my place,” I say to everyone.

  “Yes, please,” Vanessa says.

  Darren grabs the rest of our belongings as we head towards my car. Vanessa and I pile into the Cobra as Darren heads to Maxine’s car.

  As I drive, I turn to Vanessa and ask, “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She even smiles a little.

  We pull down the street in my neighborhood, and I can hear her suck in a breath. Two-story concrete homes with grassy lawns sit next to each other on their spacious lots. Definitely an upscale neighborhood, with a few kids riding their bikes, while their parents watch from their front porches.

  “Wow, you live here?”

  “Yeah, my dad lets us live here,” I say, turning off the car and opening the door.

  As she walks up the path, she stops shy of the door. “It’s incredible.”

  “Nah, nothing too great. You should see my parents’ house.”

  Upon entering the house, Vanessa is quiet. I take her on a tour, showing her the marble bannisters and tiled floor.

  “I’m afraid to touch anything . . . it’s like a museum.” She tiptoes through the entryway and seems mesmerized by the grand elegance of our home.

  “Seriously, it’s nothing.” I lead her into the living room. She relaxes when she sees part of the place that looks more lived in.

  We have a huge, wrap-around leather sectional in front of a seventy-inch plasma TV, equipped with the latest Xbox and PlayStation. The place isn’t trashed, but you can tell a bunch of guys live here.

  We continue into the kitchen, where she runs a finger along the marble. Stainless steel appliances wrap around a center island where we cook and eat. I lead her through the hallway to my room. Opening the door, I usher her inside. I have a blue comforter on top of my wooden platform bed, and an original painting of waves crashing on the shoreline above it. Vanessa steps closer to examine the art.

  “Wow, very nice.” She takes a seat on my bed as I shut the door.

  “Are you hungry? I can order some food, or we can go out,” I say, sitting alongside her.

  “Can we order in? I’m not up for going anywhere.” She lies down onto the bed and kicks her legs off the side.

  I lie beside her and grab her hand. “It will be okay. I do have to say, if I find the person who did this, well, let’s just say it won’t be pretty.”

  “Thanks, Trace. I feel safe here. Thanks for letting us stay.”

  Turning my body to face her, I prop myself up on my elbows. “Of course. I don’t want you anywhere but here.”

  I look into her eyes as she closes them and licks her delectable lips. I taste them in my memory and want to relive the sensation.

  “What should we order? Chinese?” she asks, breaking me from my vivid fantasy. She notices my eyes pop open and chuckles. I choke and laugh as she rolls her eyes. We leave the room and make our way to the kitchen, where I shuffle through the cabinets, looking for a take-out menu. While we look, the front door opens. Maxine walks in, demanding attention.

  “Hello, losers. What are you guys doing?” She throws her bag onto the counter and props her sunglasses atop her head. Darren follows behind, tapping his phone like a crazed lunatic. Maxine rolls her eyes at him.

  “Ordering Chinese food. You guys hungry?” I ask, pulling out a take-out menu. I flip it open to view the assortment of dishes they offer.

  “Sure, sounds great. Darren, want Chinese food?” she asks him.

  He glances up from his phone and nods his head yes.

  Once the Chinese food has arrived, we settle into the living room to eat. I turn the TV on, and we get lost in the craziness of reality television.

  A while later, Tony comes home and stares at us in confusion. “Uh, what’s going on here?” He sits on the sofa next to Vanessa and me.

  “Their house was broken into. Max’s dad wants to install a new security system before they go back,” Darren explains.

  Tony covers his mouth, gasping, “Holy shit. Are you ladies okay?”

  Maxine goes into the details of the event but leaves out the part about Vanessa’s room.

  “So, they’re going to stay here tonight,” I say, rubbing my hands down Vanessa’s arms. She shivers from my touch.

  “Of course,” Tony says, watching my hand movements carefully.

  After watching TV for a while longer, I turn to Vanessa and ask, “Wanna finish watching in my room?”

  “Sure.”

  Tony heads to his room, and we make our way to mine. We haven’t discussed where she would sleep, but I’ll be damned if she thinks she’s staying anywhere but in here with me.

  I turn to her as I shut my door. “Is this okay? Staying here tonight? I can sleep on the floor, or we can share the bed and I promise not to touch you,” I say, rushing through the words.

  Her eyes grow wide, and she dips her head lower. Swaying her hands along her sides, she glances up.

  “Okay,” she says, not really answering any of my questions.

  “Get on the bed,” I demand.

  She laughs and plops onto the mattress, throwing her flip-flops off her feet. Then, she stands again and reaches for her bag. “I’m just going to change and get ready for bed.” I show her the door to the bathroom as I lift my shirt over my head. She glances back, unable to take her eyes off my chest, and slowly closes the door. Alone, I debate if I should turn the TV on or leave it off. Should I light candles? No, too corny. My phone rings on the dresser.

  When I see who is calling, I dread answering.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hello, son. Have you called Roberts yet?” His voice trumpets through the phone; I have to hold it away from my ear to avoid going deaf.

  “No, not yet,” I confess.

  “Classes end next week, and you need to find out where to report,” he says, sounding frustrated.

  “Okay, I can call him tomorrow morning. Kind of late to call now.” I stare at the bathroom door, hoping Vanessa doesn’t come out while I’m on the phone. I hate talking to my father and don’t want her to see me upset and angry.

  “Make sure you do, Trace. This is important.”

  “I know.” I just don’t care. I’d rather do anything than work for Mr. Roberts this coming summer.

  “Did you return the keys to the boat to Carlo?” he asks.

  “Sure did.”

  “Did you have a girl on the boat?”

  “Yeah, just a tiny date.” I smile.

  “I hope it’s nothing too serious. You have a busy summer ahead of you.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s nothing,” I say, hoping Vanessa doesn’t hear me. Even if she does, I don’t think she can pick up on the one-sided conversation.

  I ask myself if this is serious. Well, I mean I like her a lot, but is it something more? Not trying to think too much into it, I say my goodbyes to my father and hang up. Replacing the phone on the charger, I change into gym shorts instead of my usual sleeping nudeness. Vanessa doesn’t need to see me naked, not yet.

  She is on my mind and quickly working her way through my system. I can’t keep my thoughts straight when she is around. Furious that someone broke into her house, I want to go on a mission and seek these assholes out, find ‘em and then beat the hell out of ‘em. I suck in a deep breath when I realize this girl is getting to me; the need to protect her is overpowering. The way she looks at me drives me crazy, and she has to know what she does, how she drives me fucking insane. I need her. Oh fuck, I need her. The beauty she possesses seduces me and makes me think of nothing but her.

  How did I get into this situation? How did I let her get to me? I haven’t even known her that long, and already, she has embedded herself into my being.

  It occurs to me that, because I haven’t been with her sexually yet, this must be the reason why she is affecting me so much. A huge smile sprea
ds across my face when the realization hits me. Once I fuck her, I can move on. Easy.

  I’m not into her. I just want her. I roll my eyes; maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll believe it one day.

  Pulling the covers back from my bed, I lie down. This summer, I’ll work for Mr. Roberts, so I remind myself to call him in the morning.

  Mr. Roberts is an older man with a grasp on ass-kissing my father. He also is known for his bad wardrobe. He should be perfect to learn from. My father thinks the world of him, and in his eyes, he can do no wrong.

  So, I guess he’ll be the one to teach me the first things about my father’s company. Because one day I’m to walk into my father’s shoes; whether I want to or not.

  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t see anything wrong with running the company. But I am still young. Still undecided.

  I hate having my whole life planned out for me.

  When I first met Mr. Roberts, I was sitting in my father’s downtown office. Roberts walked in with a confident gait and sat on the chair next to me. After we were introduced, he raised his nose in the air and laughed. It pissed me off, and I didn’t care for him. My father said we would get along fine, but after taking one last look at Roberts’s greasy brown hair and protruding belly, I said, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  I’ve seen him a lot over the years, and my father is excited to have us work together. He has told me over the past few months that Roberts has helped grow the business exponentially—his words, not mine.

  The door to the bathroom opens, and Vanessa walks out with her blonde hair falling around her face. Angelic and radiant, she wears pink pajama pants with little pictures of books on them, and a pink tank top. Drool trickles out of my mouth, and I try hard to close it.

  She takes my breath away, and I gasp for air. I hop out of bed on both feet and rush over to the bathroom.

  “My turn,” I say, closing the door.

  I turn the faucet on and race to finish everything so I can return to her.

  Exiting the bathroom, I flip the light off and turn on a dim table lamp. Then I walk over to the bed.

  12

  Vanessa

  Watching Trace walk across the room is the biggest turn on. He is the hottest guy I have ever seen; hot enough to be a model. I can imagine his pictures popping up on the Internet whenever anyone Googles ’gorgeous.’

  He makes his way to the bed, and I smile at him. Nervous, I tug the covers to my chin.

  “Do you want to watch TV?” he asks in a low, sexy voice.

  I want to scream ‘take me here and now’, but refrain.

  “Uh, sure,” I say, releasing my hold on the covers so he can pull them back to get under. He lies on his back and turns on the television. We watch a show on bizarre bank robberies, as we snuggle up next to each other.

  Suddenly Trace sits up and turns to face me, raising his hands up to his chest. “I promise I won’t touch you,” he says while lowering his arms. Then he lies back down and adds, “Unless you beg me.”

  My heart no longer beats in my chest. I blink a few times and then turn to face him. “What makes you think I would ever beg for that?”

  “You’re dying to beg for it,” he says, leaning closer. My mouth waters as I stare into his dark eyes; his pupils and irises blend into a fierce shade of black.

  My voice squeaks as I try to speak. “Oh, you think so.”

  “I know so,” he whispers.

  The covers suffocate me, and I want to throw them off as heat washes over me. I bat my eyelashes at him and run my fingers over his jaw. “I think you’re the one praying for me to beg for it.”

  “Sweetheart, don’t start something you can’t finish.” He hovers his lips over mine.

  I flip onto my back and stare at the ceiling to regain my composure. He chuckles and props his pillows up against the headboard. As he sits, watching the television, I turn my body to look up at him, place my hand under my head, and rest on my elbow. “Thank you, Trace, for letting us stay here.”

  “Of course. Any idea on who could be out to hurt you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can I ask you why you moved here?”

  I stare into his trusting eyes and take the leap to tell him my story.

  “It’s a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  “I have all the time in the world.” He points a hand to his chest, silently asking if I want to lie on it.

  My head rests on him as he wraps his arms around me.

  “Uh, you are touching me,” I joke.

  He lowers his lips to my head and kisses the top, then grabs me and repositions us so we are face to face. His lips call me to take them as I stare deep into his eyes.

  “Please, beg me to touch you.” He closes his eyes, and my head falls closer to his lips. We are so close, I can almost taste the sweet toothpaste in his mouth. He begs again, “Please, Vanessa.”

  I whisper a yes, and his lips are on mine at lightning speed. Our tongues tangle together, both fighting for more. His hands are in my hair, pulling and tugging. Running two hands down his chest, I glide over his muscles. With a finger, I trace the band of his shorts.

  He lets out a hiss as I explore. He grabs my hands and stops me before I can venture further.

  “Oh, fuck,” he breathes out, and I smile at him.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing for getting too frisky.

  He drops my hands and places his hands on both sides of my face.

  “Vanessa, you have to understand, I want you more than anything, but we should take this slow.”

  “Wow, I didn’t think you knew those words.”

  “I realize, in my past, I may have been somewhat of an ass to girls, but I don’t want to do that with you. I want us to take our time, get to know each other.” He releases his hold on me, and I lie my head back onto his chest.

  “Okay,” I say, running a finger along his chest. I hear a low growl rumble through him and smile, knowing I’m affecting him this way.

  “Back to your story,” he says, running his fingers through my hair.

  I take a deep breath before I begin. “Back in high school, I dated a guy named Eric. He was popular, and I was happy he wanted me. When he asked me out, I remember accepting before getting to know him better.” I take another deep breath as I glide a finger against his stomach.

  “He was a grade older than me, and after a while I thought I was in love. I overlooked his demanding ways, and then he started slapping me around. One day after school, I was talking to a boy from class, and Eric walked over to us. He was so angry with me.”

  Trace’s arms wrap tighter around me. He leans down and kisses the top of my head, which makes me smile.

  “Eric told me that if I ever talked to the boy again, he would punish me. I cried the whole way home.”

  “What about your parents?” Trace asks, rubbing his hand along my arm, sending chills skating down my back.

  “Oh, my parents loved him. He was the pastor’s son, and the church was the center of our small town.”

  Trace stares into my eyes, and I continue, “So anyway, I continued dating him, afraid he would hurt me if we broke up. Finally, one day, my little sister noticed a bruise on my leg. She asked how I had gotten it and I lied, but she didn’t believe me.”

  “Smart girl,” Trace says.

  “My sister told my mother that she thought Eric was hurting me. When my mother asked me about it, I denied it. Then, I cried when she demanded to know the truth. I finally broke down and told them everything Eric was doing. The way he grabbed my hair and called me names. How he smacked me around in private. How he was always so angry with me.” Tears escape my eyes, and Trace rubs his hands through my hair.

  “You don’t have to continue if you don’t want to,” he says.

  “No, it’s okay. My mom called my dad. My father came home from work early, and we told him the story. He called Eric’s father, screaming and yelling into the phone. Eric’s father deni
ed his son could possibly do that. My father and I went over to Eric’s house to talk to them. I was sitting in the living room of their nice, three-story home, terrified to breathe. The couch was brown and had little swirly designs that I kept circling my fingers around. When Eric entered the room, I froze. He was so angry, I thought he was going to kill me right then and there.”

  I shuffle my body to get closer to Trace as he runs his fingers along my spine, which ignites tingles that shoot through me.

  I continue on to the worst part of my story. “Then, my father told his father he didn’t want us together anymore. He wanted Eric to leave me alone. Eric’s father understood and said, ‘sometimes things just don’t work out.’ I looked to Eric, and his eyes were ablaze with fire. He had pure hatred in his eyes. He nodded his head and smiled the most wicked smile I had ever seen. We left his house, and I was so afraid. I told my dad, but he said everything would be fine. That Eric wouldn’t be that stupid to come after me.”

  Taking a deep breath, I stall. Trace smiles, which gives me the confidence to continue. “Well, he was that stupid, because after that, I got notes in my locker that said crude things like ‘whore’ and ‘slut.’ I brought the notes home and showed my father. My father went to the police, and we put a restraining order out against Eric. By then, Eric had already graduated high school, so the police didn’t understand how he was getting onto school property. After that, things started getting worse, and Eric began following me. It was only a few weeks until high school graduation, and Eric found me while I was out with my friends. We were at the local shopping mall, and he cornered me. He yelled and screamed at me, and then he slapped me. However, that wasn’t enough for him. He continued slapping me as my friends screamed. Then, he punched me and beat me up pretty bad before the police arrived. They carted him away and took me to the hospital.”

  “Oh my god, Vanessa,” Trace says, sitting up fully on the bed and knocking my head from his chest. He grabs my arms and stares deep into my eyes. “I can’t believe this. Are you okay?”

  I smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Anyways, after I graduated school, I took a few years off. He was sentenced to probation and never bothered me again. In that time off school, I wrote more poetry than ever, and decided I wanted to get away from the narrow-minded town. Everyone looked at me as a liar and the girl who got the pastor’s son in trouble with the law. I told my parents I wanted to go to school out of state, and they understood. Looking for colleges and different places I wanted to live, I came here and have been here since the start of this school year. So, what, like, eight months?”