Or that having never grown my social butterfly wings, I have no idea what the regular ole rules to flip cup are. “Before you down your beer and flip, you have to take a shot.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. While he’s cute in a total surfer dude way, he just isn’t cutting it for me. Damn you, Owen Axel.
Peering around the table, I notice the tiny shot glasses seated next to every red plastic cup. Reaching for the nearest one, I tip my head back and bring the glass to my lips. The acidic burn slowly rolls down my throat, cheap vodka numbing my veins and anger. Yeah, this is exactly what I need. Slamming the glass down, I catch the shock on my friends’ faces. They look like statues They’re so mesmerized by my actions.
“Well, if those are the rules I’d say I’m officially winning. Right?”
8
Owen
Field Parties are without a doubt one of my favorite things in the world. I’ve been coming here for years, ever since Tyler Merry, who graduated a year before me, started throwing them during my freshman year of high school. Sitting out under the stars in the middle of nowhere, North Carolina, the fire crackling in front of you, a beer in your hand, hot girls running around in those cutoff shorts intended to tease. There was really nothing better.
These nights could clear my mind of the pressure, the fear, the doubts. The wide-open spaces give me room to breathe, actually free myself of the poison I sucked in daily. The tension in my life is constant; how many strikeouts have I recorded? Could I have thrown the ball faster? Should I add an extra weight to pump up my triceps? What scout would be in the stands today? Is Dad going to be disappointed that I couldn’t paint the corners?
I don’t know how many of these nights I have left.
Which is why I am severely pissed that Minka has officially taken it upon herself to be the one-woman night ruining parade.
I haven’t seen her since she threw me out of her house. The girl totally freaked and then proceeded to trash me and my skills. And I know from past experience and her breathy moans as she came around my hand, that my skills are very well honed.
I don’t typically go for chicks who can hold their own. As bad as that sounds, it was easier to bag the easy ones.
So it was strange that I was so turned on by the fact that she was smart and could hand me my ass in any conversation. That fact that she’s insanely beautiful is just an added bonus.
I typically go for hot and easy. Girls who know what I am down for. And what I am down for is not a girlfriend. Girlfriends bring pressure and expectations, which I have enough of in spades thanks to baseball and my dad.
I knew I’d moved too fast by getting physical with Minka too quick, but then she started throwing around the word “values” and accusing me of being some dick who brags to his buddies about all the pussy he scores. She doesn’t even know me. When she started hauling assumptions in my face like a bratty two-year-old, I decided I was done pursuing her. She could have her “morals.”
But that didn’t mean I hadn’t fantasized about her. Twenty-four hours a day. For the past seven days. It was like she’d taken over my brain and was residing there permanently. All I could think about was the way my hands melded to her smooth, velvety skin. The way her chocolaty eyes widened and that sexy mouth formed an O when I worked my fingers over her hardened clit. The way she writhed beneath me, clawing at my back as if she were physically fighting me for release. My dick’s hard just thinking about it, not that it hadn’t immediately raised to full salute when I spotted her across the fire.
Shouldn’t my cock be tired of her? My hand was sore from how much attention I’d been giving it the last week. Remembering her sexy little whimpers was all I needed these days to bust in thirty seconds flat, which is sort of embarrassing. Since I’d kissed her, the taste of berries and mint still lingered on my tongue, I’ve become obsessed.
Leave it to me to crush hard for the one chick who didn’t want to straddle me from the minute she heard my name was Owen Axel.
Whatever. I learned my lesson. I wasn’t going to try to pet the dog that already bit me, twice. Except that nothing, not even this ditzy blonde on my lap basically shoving her nipples in my face, is helping to get my attention off of her.
And I can’t seem to stop my hands from balling into fists as I watch her sling her arms around this fucking surfer dude’s neck. She’s drunk; really drunk. And while I am beyond buzzed, I know what it looks like to be a desperate drunk. And Minka is falling right into that category tonight. She’s trying way too hard to make her problems go away by hitting the bottle. I should know, I’ve been an expert at times.
Surfer bro reaches down to grab a big handful of her ass and I’ve seen enough. Before I know it, I’m up, the blonde tumbling off my lap into the dirt and my feet carrying me in her direction. I shove the dude away before his hands can do anymore roaming and then catch a falling Minka who can’t seem to stand on her own.
“Hey what the heck …” she trails off as she sees it’s me holding her, her bloodshot eyes narrowing. “Get off me, you asshole,” she spits at me, pushing at my chest. I lock my arms securely around her, making sure she can’t break my hold to stumble off.
“Hey, bro, let go of her. What’s your problem, man?” Surfer bro gets back up and is gesturing at me. He looks like he’s questioning whether to fight for her or not, but is smart enough not to challenge me. I shoot him a hard look that illustrates just how badly I could bash his face in and his mind is made up. He hurries off, leaving Minka in my arms and her friends staring at me like I’ve just revealed I’m Superman.
“Hey, we are going to go for a little walk, okay? Don’t worry I will keep her safe and return her soon.” I smile at them, phrasing it as a question but not really meaning it as one.
They both slowly nod at me, and the one with blue streaks running through her hair rolls her eyes, adding, “It’s about time. You were only eye-fucking her for the last three hours.”
I let out a snort. Maybe I had been more obvious than I thought. “I like your friend,” I say to Minka. “I’m Owen, by the way.”
“Kelsey, and this is Chloe. We know who you are, baseball god. Now, you can take our girl here. Just know you’re on potential puke duty,” she half-jokes as they walk away giggling.
“Umm, I’m not invisible. And I’m also not going anywhere with you, asshole. I was having fun with Brad, thanks very much,” she slurs, her speech coming out in more of a tinkling, high tone than usual. But she’s so damn adorable. Acting so bossy and cute, it takes all of my restraint not to scoop her up and crush my lips to hers.
But I wasn’t going there with her again. I was only helping out a girl who clearly had gotten herself into a situation she didn’t want to be in.
I could keep telling myself all night that I wasn’t going to continue pursuing this girl, but that didn’t make it true.
She needs to cool down and sober up. I rub my hand through her silky hair, which hangs stick straight tonight, almost to her butt. God, she looks incredible. She fits so well against my side as I guide her away from the noise. Every time I look down at her, my eye line has the greatest fucking view of her tits framed by that lacy top. That view is not doing anything to tame my swelling dick.
Images of her under me flash through my brain. The way she rubbed her soft, slim body into mine. This girl had made me nearly blow in my shorts. And she definitely got me harder than any of the college groupies I’ve boned this year. And now I need to think of anything—dead fish, my grandmother—to get this massive boner to go away.
“Seriously, let me go.” She wriggles against me, breaking free for a second before I trip, pulling her back into me and righting us both. Yeah, not helping. Boner still on high alert.
“Jeez, you’re a mean drunk. Both times you’ve tried to blow me off and apparently I have some sense of duty to catch you whenever you fall,” I say half-teasing.
“You wouldn’t have to catch me or hear my smarty-pants self if you stopped coming around. Or if you w
eren’t such a jerk.” She grins, looking pleased with herself for that comeback.
“Honey, I hate to break it to you, but your smart mouth really takes a hit when you’re drunk. Sit with me.” I motion to the log at our feet. I’ve walked us a good seventy-five yards from the party.
She frowns but doesn’t resist when I pull her hand and her body follows. We sit in silence for a few minutes, me just staring up at the stars and reveling in the quiet feeling one hundred times better now that I have Minka’s warm body pressed into my side.
“Why are we out here? If this is some move to get your hands down my panties again, I already told you, I’m not having sex with you.” She huffs, the anger in her voice receding a bit, replaced with exhaustion.
“And why would you think this is some kind of ploy to get you to spread your legs for me?” I bite back, not the calmest, or soberest, myself. She doesn’t respond, only looks at me like she wants to say more, but then turns away to stop herself. Her brown hair floats on the breeze and I catch the scent of lilacs.
“Whatever. You looked like you were having a great time with Pamela Anderson. Why don’t you get back over there, champ!” She shrugs, rubbing her shoulders as if she were cold despite the eighty-degree night. I know she saw me sneer at her before and I mentally punched myself for acting like such an idiot.
I just didn’t expect to see her and my ego had been severely bruised when she practically shoved me onto the sidewalk the other day. So I resorted to being an eight-year-old; symbolically hitting the girl I liked on the playground.
“It’s not like you were giving me the warm and fuzzies either, sweetheart. Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She snorts when I utter the words “got off” and the blood in my dick pulses. God, her sense of humor turns me on. “Yeah, I know I kind of attacked you the other day, but you weren’t exactly saying no. I don’t know why you freaked, but I meant what I said. I would like to talk, get to know you. And I promise I won’t act like a cocky jerk or at least I’ll try. It’s just hard since I’m so good looking and excel at everything that I do …” I trail off as she half-heartedly punches my shoulder. But she was finally smiling in a non-annoyed, super-adorable drunk way.
“I’m tired.” She yawns sleepily, leaning into my shoulder.
Her closeness surprises me, but I haven’t felt more at home ever in my life than when her skin made contact with mine. This girl is throwing me for a loop. I barely know her and yet she feels more familiar than when I stood out on my island during a game.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder, nestling her farther into my side. My skin tingles where she wrapped her slim arm around my back, and I’m overcome with this quiet sense of contentment. We stay locked like this, on our own island in the middle of The Field, until my eyes begin to droop and I surrender my mind to the abyss.
9
Minka
It is so freaking bright, someone needs to turn that light off. And why does it hurt so fucking bad when I move my head? Am I even moving my head?
At first, I think I must still be dreaming, but when I crack an eye open, I know that the hangover fairies have taken root inside my skull. I look over the damp, dewy field, wondering why I’m not in the dry, warm tent with my friends. When I begin to blink the haze from my vision, my heart starts racing.
Me, cradled in Owen Axel’s lap as he sleeps propped up against a large log about seventy-five yards away from where the party had been happening last night. Me, with my head nuzzled into Owen Axel’s neck and so close to his hair that smells like musk and evergreen, my hands on his hard chest that is rising steadily with each breath he takes. Me, as Owen Axel’s arms hold my body for protection. This is what I see when I wake up.
I shift to get a better look at our position. Ah crap, that was a bad move. Because I can most definitely feel a very large, very hard part of his anatomy poking right up into my butt as I sit on top of him. How did we get out here?
Suddenly, our conversation comes flashing back at me, and I bite my lip to keep from smiling at his sweet words.
He wants to get to know me. And he’d come over to take me for a walk before I’d made a stupid mistake with surfer dude. Not that these were points in his favor, but they were nice gestures. And now they needed to end, before I could let hope seep into my flesh.
“Owen, wake up!” I whisper-scream in his ear, trying to wake him quickly but quietly. I don’t need people to notice us out here. The big rock softly snoring under me doesn’t move an inch. I poke his chest, flick his ear, and pry his eyes open like I’ve seen little kids do in movies.
I didn’t know how to wake someone up. I’d never been in this situation. So, I do the only thing left to do. I reach down between us and squeeze the steel rod between his legs. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the only thing left to do, but it would definitely get his attention. And I also maybe want to feel what he’s packing.
“Mmm, good morning,” he growls and snuggles me closer while grinding his hips into my backside.
“No, get up. This isn’t some booty call. We have to get out of here,” I urge, trying to rouse him from his sleepy state.
“It’s technically not a booty call if it’s in the morning, but I won’t fight semantics with you. No more talking.” He nuzzles his face into my neck and begins to lick and bite the sensitive skin under my ear.
Ahh, that feels insanely good. Sensation zings down my spine and a groan rips its way through my throat. I really need to get off of him but my body won’t budge while he is lighting it on fire.
His rough hands rub circles over my stomach while his playful mouth teases and kisses every inch of skin north of my cleavage. I drop my head forward, unable to move or think with his hands on me. It has only been a week since I’d first spoken to him, but I already crave his touch.
“Slumming it now, are we Owen?” That sickly, sweet voice snaps me out of my Owen trance. And it’s coming from the one person I hate more than anything on this earth.
Scrambling to my feet, I pull at my clothes and hair, trying to adjust them to look semi-presentable, even though I am probably covered in dirt and the heavy eye makeup Kelsey had applied the night before is probably running down my face. Owen looks up, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and scowls.
“What do you want, Allison?” He throws her a pissed-off glance as he slowly gets to his feet.
She flicks her long blond mane over her shoulder as she wraps a hand around Owen’s large right bicep. Allison’s hair and her appearance, for that matter, is always effortlessly perfect. She has the exact amount of wave that makes her hair fall on the sexy, and not unmanageable, side of curly. Her cutoff jean shorts and red crop top accentuate her Miss Teen North Carolina figure. She wears makeup but knows how to disguise it so well that it doesn’t even look like she has it on at all. She’s beautiful in a Hollywood starlet kind of way. Too bad her insides are so hideously ugly.
Since the incident sophomore year, Allison has been one of the people to ensure I never forgot. She tore me down whenever she could, reminding me and everyone within earshot just what had happened with Gregory.
The day I found out just how badly he’d toyed with me, she’d been among the leaders to circle around my locker, basking in the spectacle I’d become.
Gregory had been the one to steal my innocence and ruin me from any future relationship, but Allison had been the one to cement my social suicide. She murdered my high school existence and then powdered her nose on my dead body.
“Baby, where else would I be? The real question is, why didn’t I see you at all last night? I had a very special present for you.” She bats her lashes at him, licking her lips and baring her teeth in a move that has her looking more like a feral cat than a temptress if you ask me. “I see you’ve taken a ride on the town bus.” She giggles, hitting his arm. She’s pretending as if I’m not standing two feet from them.
“What the fuck did you just say?” His whole body tenses and vibrates, as if he were tigh
tening every muscle to keep his anger at bay. “You know what, never mind, Allison. You’re not worth it. You might apologize for interrupting us, but I know the word sorry doesn’t happen to be in your vocabulary. We have to get going, have a nice summer.” He politely smiles at her while steering me away with a hand at the small of my back.
I turn around just in time to see Allison staring daggers into my back, her eyes full of the promise of revenge.
My chest swells with happiness at Owen picking me in that showdown. He didn’t even engage with her. I’m surprised he acted so coldly toward her, but then again, I realize I don’t know much about him below the surface. I have been judging him this entire time, just like my classmates have always judged me.
“Well, looks like you two are just the best of friends.” Owen gives me a sly, humor-filled smile. “Don’t mind Ali, she’s just mad that her soul is a black hole of evil. You can’t help feel bad for the girl.”
I choke on my laugh, shocked at what I’m hearing from him.
“So, I take it you two haven’t made out in front of your lockers recently?”
He winces at my bringing up that memory. “Ew, I’m sorry you had to witness those unfortunate moments of my life. It took me way too damn long to figure out that Miss America over there only wants to spend her future athlete husband’s money on Botox and Prada.” His face turns stony and he looks almost sad. It’s unexpected but heartwarming.
“So, she interrupted us, huh?” I try to lift him from the funk that has settled over our conversation, but am surprised when I broach the subject of what had happened before she’d so rudely arrived.
“Oh you like me, you don’t have to deny it anymore. Here give me your phone.” He makes grabby fingers at me.
Over the Fence Box Set Page 5