Faking It: A Small Town College Bad Boy Romance

by Hunter Rose

  “So, he would send notes that had the word ‘slut’ written on it? Do you think he could have possibly found you?” Trace asks, lying back down.

  “I don’t know. I should call my parents tomorrow and ask if he’s still there.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I’m sorry to burden you with this,” I say, lying back down onto his chest.

  “Yeah, you’re a real buzz kill.” He grins.

  I prop myself up, raise a hand, and slap him playfully on the chest.

  His eyes light up, and he tickles me.

  Laughing, I launch my body onto him and squeal in delight. “Please stop, Trace.”

  “Never!” he shouts, pinning my arms to the bed. He climbs on top of me and straddles my waist. I stare up into his eyes, defenseless.

  His eyes travel across my body, sending pure lust rippling through my system. He licks his lower lip, and his eyes lock with mine.

  “Please, Trace.” At this point I don’t even know what I’m asking. Please touch me? Please kiss me? Please don’t ever stop? Sensing my desire, he lingers with his lips over mine.

  “Please what?” he asks, licking his lips.

  My mind scrambles, and I can’t string words to complete a sentence together if my life depends on it.

  “Please do anything to me,” I whisper.

  His lips lock with mine, and he sucks my lower lip into his mouth. His tongue explores my mouth like an expedition to the treasured land. He lessens his grip on my wrist and moves his hands along my neck. I run my fingers along his back and wrap my legs around his body. He grinds into me, sending heat to my inner thighs. My body’s alight with fire, burning straight through me, and every cell is screaming at me to climb on top of him.

  But I need to slow down, even though I want him more than I can ever even imagine.

  I slow down a bit and move out from under his hold.

  “No, you’re right. We need to slow down. It’s just too damn hard,” he says, looking down to his body, then adding, “No pun intended.”

  I laugh at his comment and turn to my side as he snuggles up, spooning my body. His hard length nestles against my back as I wiggle closer.

  “Goodnight, Trace.” I sigh.

  He whispers, “Goodnight.”

  I lie in bed, unable to sleep, my mind racing over the past forty-eight hours. Lying here with Trace is not what I had imagined in my craziest, wildest dreams.

  I fall asleep, and somewhere in the deeps of my mind, Trace is there. I drift into a dream where Trace walks up to me. “Babe,” he breathes, gunning for my mouth. He pulls the trigger and kills me softly with a deep kiss. My body instantly comes to life as soon as he touches me. I love how easily I can respond to him and accept him, how well he knows the map of my skin and where I want him to claim me with those sweet kisses and then rough hands. Even though I’m obviously dreaming, it feels so real. Like we’ve known each other our whole lives.

  Trace’s expert hands race under my shirt, and his breath is just under my ear, whispering sweetly.

  Fuck,” he curses, pulling himself from between my legs. “I need you so goddamn badly, baby.”

  “Then come here. Take me.”

  “Your wish, my command.”

  He pulls my panties roughly down my legs and gives one kiss to my yearning lips before helping me out of the rest of my clothes. We crash together in a tangle of legs and arms, and hot, open-mouthed kisses. I can smell the desire in the air, feel the need in our chests as we breathe it in. It’s as real and lively as the thunderous beating of our hearts. I grip his shoulders and beg for him to fuck me. I need him like air, like water. I don’t want to wake from this dream.

  I push down his underwear and moan at the sight of him so equipped, with tight, strapping muscle, manly and hungry for this. For me. I love the smell of his body, the feeling of his heated skin, how hard he is against my softness. I move my fingers across the planes of his body like a globe I’ve burned into my memory a million times, knowing each curve and slope, every nerve, every kiss that causes a tremble, a rough curse from his lips. I warm at the sound of him grunting my name as I cross the area of his abs and lower stomach, then dangerously lower, until I’m tracing the edge of his rock-hard cock.

  He sucks in deeply. “Oh, fuck, Vanessa.”

  He scatters kisses over my body, his teeth biting a nipple, then scraping over my stomach, until his lips are hovering between my legs. He pushes them apart with his hands and licks my pussy with the tip of his tongue, humming as he tastes me.

  I all but scream his name, my hands reaching for his hair, tangling through the strands.

  He licks relentlessly into me, making my legs tremble with every swipe of his tongue. He circles my clit, and I gasp when he suddenly pulls back.

  His lips are slick with spit and my wetness.

  “I need you. Now,” He tells me.

  “You have me.”

  “Fuck, Vanessa,’ he whispers, kissing me wildly. “Give me that sweet pussy. Right fucking now.”

  I push my tits in his face, and let him suck on my nipples, until I’m squirming with need.

  “Oh, my god, Vanessa.”

  “I need you inside of me.”

  “Your wish, baby . . .”

  The head of his cock slips across my wet pussy. I cry out as he sinks with a vicious need inside of me, claiming me as his in one fell swoop.

  I wake in a rush, with sweat glistening my brow. I’m panting, and I glance over at Trace. He’s sleeping, and I can’t believe I had just dreamt all of that.

  I feel guilty as I lay back down beside him, as though he will wake up and know exactly what I dreamed about. My cheeks redden as I lay down beside him.

  “You okay?” he asks in a groggy voice, awakened by my movements.

  “Just had a dream.” I don’t tell him I had a bad dream, or a great dream. I don’t admit that the dream is one of the best I’ve had in a long time.

  He snuggles against me. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

  And actually, him being here is quite the problem. Because I want him so badly, and I don’t know if I can keep my hands to myself.

  The next morning, I wake to find Trace gone. I pad around and get ready for work. As soon as I finish, Trace comes walking in with a mug of coffee.

  “Good morning. I made this for you,” he says, handing me the cup.

  “Hi, I have to work this morning,” I say, taking the cup from his hand with a soft thank you.

  “No school today?”

  “No, but I know Maxine’s father is installing the new system today in the house.”

  “Listen, I want you to be careful. Call me if you need anything.” He looks serious, and I almost crack a smile, but then think better of it.

  An hour later, I am in Maxine’s car on the way to work. She had called her father earlier, and they were already at the house, installing the new system. We are both working the lunch shift, and then I have to stay on for the dinner shift. Therefore, I will be at the restaurant all day, stressing about my room and who defiled it.

  As Maxine races through the streets, I make a mental list of who could be behind everything.

  My first thought is Eric. He frightens me, and when I get scared, my mind automatically thinks of him and his evil ways.

  I am lost in my thoughts about Eric when I hear my phone beep. I have a new message. I pull out the phone and find a new text message from Jordan. Ugh. I don’t really feel like dealing with him right now.

  Hey, just checking on you. How did everything go last night?

  I put my phone back into my purse. I will text him back later, on my break.

  We arrive at work early, and I tell Maxine I’m going to call my parents before heading inside.

  My mother’s chipper voice answers the phone, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Mom,” I say into the phone. I miss her, but hadn’t realized how much until I heard her voice.

  “Vanessa, is that you? How are you, honey?”

/>   She’s most likely sitting in the kitchen, talking on the house phone, busy watching the cooking network and working on a new creation. She loves to cook, and definitely knows how to bake some major yumminess in the kitchen. She doesn’t work, but keeps herself busy with volunteer work. She dedicates most of her time to the retirement community, playing bingo and organizing the parties. My father works full-time at the water management plant for the city. He is head of the HR department and loves his job. He’s a tall man with a balding hairline. I have his eyes, clear as the blue sky. If you looked at both my parents, you would definitely think I take after my father.

  “I’m okay. Mom, I have a crazy question. Have you seen Eric?”

  I can hear my mother suck in a breath at the mention of his name. My parents were not happy with Eric and the things he had done.

  “Why, is something wrong?” she asks, fear evident in her voice.

  “No, no. I’m just wondering.” I lie to her, since there’s no use worrying my over-nervous mother.

  “I haven’t seen him in a while. His father said he left town for a few months.”

  My eyes widen when I hear this bit of information. My mother senses my mood and asks again if something is wrong. I reassure her everything is fine and get off the phone. I debate if I have enough time to call my little sister, Marcie. Maybe she knows where Eric is. She is a few years younger than me, and a senior in high school. Working near Eric’s father’s church, she sees the family all the time.

  I head into work, thinking I will call her later today. Constant worrying is my mother’s passion, and I may have to call her back to make sure she is okay.

  Walking into work, I see Maxine talking to Kristine, Meghan, and Georgie by the side stand. A quick smile to them and I head to the front to see which section I’ll serve today. Once I have clocked in and the manager assigns my running duties, I seek out everyone. They all rush over from their workstations, asking if I’m okay.

  “I’m fine, guys,” I say, putting on a brave front. Inside, I’m beginning to freak out.

  “Maxine told us that someone entered your room?” Kristine asks with concerned eyes.

  Maxine tells the story again for a few more employees as they gather around. Ah, a restaurant—gossip central.

  Maxine is an animated talker; she can entertain a crowd and all eyes are on her. She has a way of telling a story that makes you not want to miss a minute of it. She commands attention, which is probably why she gets great tips with her customers. I envy the way she can call on a group and rally everyone’s sympathy. When she ends the story, everyone shows their sincere concern about our wellbeing. Georgie even offers to help with security, should the need arise.

  I hug him and thank him for his generosity. The group drifts off when we get our lunch rush.

  Running around, fetching drinks for customers, and ringing in orders makes the time fly. At the end of the lunch rush, Maxine gets ready to head home and pulls me aside.

  “Hey, my father is still at the house. I’m gonna head there and see if the police have found anything.”

  “Just be careful. Are you going to be there alone while I’m at work?”

  “Yes, but with the new security system, I’ll be fine,” she says, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

  “Okay, I’m just worried.”

  “Vanessa, look at me. No need to worry yourself with anything. It’s probably a prank. Whoever it is has to know we called the police by now and is probably freaking out.”

  “I’ll call you when I leave here tonight.” I smile at her.

  “How are you getting home?”

  “Kristine is working tonight and said she will give me a ride.”

  “Okay, good. I’ll be at home, studying.”

  Maxine leaves, and I ring in some food for lunch. I sit down and pull out my phone as I wait.

  There’s a new text. My heart flutters when I see it’s from Trace.

  Hey

  The message is short and sweet, yet my lips curve into a huge smile when I read it. I text back a quick reply.

  Hey

  Within seconds, he answers back.

  Can’t stop thinking about you.

  I beam at the reply and look around to make sure no one is watching me crushing like a schoolgirl. I answer his reply.

  Me neither.

  Instantly, another message comes through.

  When can I see you again? Are we still on for tomorrow night?

  Warm fuzzies move through my body as I think about seeing him tomorrow. Answering back, I type out my response.

  YES

  He replies, fast.

  My favorite answer. See you tomorrow.

  I put my phone away, just as my food is delivered. Tomorrow can’t come quick enough. I want to see him all day, every day.

  13

  Trace

  After Vanessa left this morning, I rushed off to school for the day’s classes. Tony and Craig made fun of me throughout class about “Vanilla Vanessa” and kept asking how far I’ve gotten with her.

  Which of course pissed me off.

  I kept brushing off their questions and got angry when they asked vulgar questions about her. It upset me, having them speak that way about her. She’s not that type of girl.

  After class, I stop by the library on campus to focus on my schoolwork.

  I don’t know what it is about this girl that makes me want to treat her like a queen. She’s special, and not someone I want to take to a bar and sleep with afterwards. Craig and Tony reminded me earlier that I still have a whole month left with her, and I wonder about what happens after the month is done. I’m sure I’ll remain friends with her. I don’t want to just walk. I know that once we have sex, my obsession with her will go away. I’m sure of it. It has to, doesn’t it?

  After working on my lecture notes for a few hours, I head off to another class.

  All through class, I want to head back home and find out who broke into Vanessa’s house. Things are odd: I know so little about her, yet feel compelled to protect her.

  After class is over, I head to the coffee shop where I took Vanessa when we first met. With coffee in hand, I stare at my notes from my last class. Knowing I need to call Mr. Robert’s or my father will have my ass, I pull my phone out of my back pocket. When it finally connects, I hear his hello loud and clear. “Hi, Mr. Roberts. It’s Trace Weston.” Why did I add the Weston part to my name? I am sure he knows who I am.

  “Trace, my boy. How are you?” he says into the phone loudly.

  “Hi, sir. I’m great. My father asked me to call you concerning the summer internship with you.”

  “Yes. Can we meet somewhere?” he asks.

  “Sure. When?”

  “No better time than the present.”

  I look around and frown. Not wanting to meet this fucker now, I sigh. “Sure thing. Where?” I ask, frustration pouring through me.

  “Ever heard of Pesto’s?”

  Oh no, not there. The thought of seeing Vanessa again sounds amazing, but not this way. Not with Roberts.

  “Yes, I have heard of it.”

  “Can you be there in an hour?” he asks, laughing into the phone with that cocky attitude of his.

  “Sure,” I mumble.

  Hanging up with Mr. Roberts, I debate if I should text Vanessa to let her know I will stop by, and not on my own authority. My fingers move over the keys and hit send.

  My dad’s friend wants to take me to dinner at Pesto’s tonight, so lucky you, you get to see me sooner than you think.

  Her reply never comes through. After a while, I leave the coffee shop and head to Pesto’s.

  I walk into the restaurant, and the pungent smell of garlic fills the air. There are white linen tablecloths and a beautiful décor, including Italian paintings on the walls by the entrance. I make my way over to the hostess stand, where the young redhead says hello and asks how many are in our party.

  I say I’m meeting someone and tell her the name. She c
hecks her sheet.

  “Oh, yes. Mr. Roberts is already here.” I follow the hostess further into the restaurant. Glancing around, I search for the special blonde who fills up most thoughts in my mind.

  I spot her talking to Mr. Roberts. As I walk up behind her, she turns. The look of shock is clear on her face as she smiles. Mr. Roberts stands up and offers me his hand. I shake it and smile at him.

  “Trace Weston, so good to see you,” he says, pointing at the seat across from him.

  “Thank you, Mr. Roberts.” I turn to Vanessa. “Hey, how are you?”

  Mr. Roberts watches the exchange of nervousness between us and laughs. I introduce the two of them, and he shakes her hand.

  “Are you and Trace dating?” he asks, bobbing his eyes up and down her body.

  Caught off guard, she smiles, obviously unsure how to answer.

  “Absolutely, we’re dating,” I say with a wide smile.

  She giggles in the sweetest way as she asks for our order.

  After we place our food order, Mr. Roberts talks to me about his plans for the summer.

  “I’m excited to have you interning for me,” he says, taking a sip of his soda.

  “So am I, Sir.” I learned at an early age to call my father’s business associates ’sir’.

  “Are you and this waitress serious?”

  “Wouldn’t say that. We just started dating,” I say, grabbing a roll and breaking it in half. With my knife, I spread butter across it and pop it into my mouth.

  Vanessa appears with our food and places our dishes in front of us. The carbonara on my plate smells inviting, and I smile at her.

  “Thank you, Vanessa. This looks great.”