“Did you see Shep’s?” The way he revealed it too. Smug bastard. One card after another. One queen after another. My heart had sunk with every card that fell onto the table. Until it was in the pit of my stomach and I knew I lost. Not Joel.
Me.
“You know he wasn’t serious.” When I say nothing, Kelli continues. “About the bet. About you. He can’t claim you as his prize. You’re a human being with your own mind. He wouldn’t be that much of an asshole to try and collect.”
“Please. He’s a spoiled rich asshole who can have whatever he wants. I’m sure he believes he has every right to claim me.” A shiver moves down my spine and I try to ignore it. The words are kind of sexy when you think about them. Shep “claiming” me as his, like I’m some sort of possession he can take whenever he wants.
Another shiver, this one full body. Those words conjure up all sorts of images, every one of them sexual. Every one of them featuring acts I’ve never once tried to attempt. The more I imagine them, the more curious I become.
This is so not good.
“Well, he probably hates you now since you slapped him so hard his head reared back. I swear I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was straight out of reality TV or something.” Kelli sounds downright excited by the spectacle I caused, which she probably is. I must admit, I’m pretty shocked by my behavior too. I can’t believe I slapped him. I saw the flash of shock register in those dark, dark eyes right before my palm made contact with his skin. Yes, I felt bad. Yes, I shouldn’t have slapped him.
But deep down inside, I know he deserved it.
“I shouldn’t have hit him,” I say, feeling an attack of guilt coming on.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Kelli agrees. “You’d probably be head mistress in his harem right now if you’d just been agreeable from the start.”
I burst out laughing and shake my head. It feels good to laugh. I’d been tense since we met up with Joel and Dane last night and they’d told us we were going to that stupid poker palace place Shep and his friends run. I’d known from the start the evening would end up crappy. And I’d been right.
“I’m laying low,” I tell Kelli. “In case Shep has set some traps in the hopes he can catch me and take me back to the harem.”
“I’m guessing he’s not interested any longer since you hit him in front of everyone.”
Why do her words bother me? I should be glad Shep isn’t interested in me any longer. I’m not a toy that Joel can hand over in trade. I don’t want to belong to Shepard Prescott in any way, shape or form.
“Good,” I say weakly when I realize Kelli’s waiting for an answer. “Serves him right, to mess with me.” But there’s not much force behind my words. I feel…bad for hitting him. And I can’t help but have a what if feeling too. Like…
What would’ve happened if I hadn’t slapped Shep? Would he have tried to charm the pants off of me? Would I have let him? Despite my still being with Joel at that moment? Would I have cheated on him in order to sample the Shep Prescott goods?
Maybe…
Ugh. That’s not good. I’m not a cheater. I’m loyal. Not like I’ve had a ton of boyfriends—fine, I’ve had two serious ones—but I don’t mess around behind anyone’s back. That Shep tempted me, even in my head…disturbs me.
Greatly.
“Well, forget all that.” Kelli waves her fingers in a dismissive gesture, clutching her clean clothes to her chest with her other hand. “I’m going to take a shower and then we’re going out.”
“We are?” I run my fingers through my still damp hair. I’d truly planned on laying low tonight. I have a paper due Tuesday I need to finish. Well, more like start.
“Yeah. Saturday night. Party at one of the frat houses. I got us an in.” Kelli grins, looking pleased with herself.
“What about Dane?” I ask warily.
“What about him? We’re good. We’re solid. He has a birthday party to go to. Guys getting together and eating buffalo wings and drinking beer at someone’s house off campus. Bleh.”
“Yeah, well we’re in for the same scenario. Minus the buffalo wings,” I point out.
“Right, but we need to find you a new boyfriend since you dumped Joel.”
“That is the absolute last thing I need.” I met Kelli a few days before school officially started, when we were moving into the dorms. We hit it off right away and I was so thankful since one of my biggest fears was that I would hate my roommate.
We have a lot in common. We’re both sarcastic. We both like to study but aren’t fanatical about it. We’re both reasonably clean. But where we differ is our attitude toward guys. Kelli likes to keep them coming, one after the other. Not that she’s a slut or anything. Far from it. She just ends it with one and picks right up with another.
Me? I take a long time to even find one that I click with. And once I find him, it takes me a while to come around. After I come around and I’m finally ready to say yeah, let’s do this, I like to settle in and consider him my somewhat boyfriend.
So now that I’ve broken up with Joel—my only boyfriend thus far my freshman year and it’s already early April—it’s going to take me months to get back on the boyfriend train.
Months. Like maybe not until my sophomore year because school’s almost finished and everyone will go home, including me.
“You’re no fun.” Kelli mock pouts. “Have you ever thought how awesome a quick hookup would be?”
“Ew.” I make a face. “I don’t do hookups. That's so gross.” My body is my temple, damn it.
“You big prude.” Kelli throws her clean pair of underwear at me and I dodge them, practically tumbling off my bed. “I’m not talking blow jobs in a back bedroom or a quick screw against the wall—though there’s nothing wrong with either of those things. I meant like…flirting with a hot guy. Getting a little drunk. Dragging him to a secluded spot. Running your hands through his hair as he slides his hands down your back and you make out for a solid ten minutes. With lots and lots of tongue.” The dreamy look on Kelli’s face tells me she’s describing a personal interlude. I really hope she’s not talking about Dane, because I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again.
Not that I’m going to be looking much at Dane. He and Joel are pretty close friends. So I’ll be avoiding the both of them, thank you very much.
“Sounds lovely,” I say. “If I’m lucky, I’ll find some handsome prince type tonight who’ll sweep me off my feet and kiss me until I can’t feel my lips anymore. I can’t wait.” I toss Kelli’s underwear back at her and the royal blue scrap of silky fabric smacks her right in the face. “Go take your shower already. You reek of sex.”
“I do?” She leans her head down and sniffs at the neckline of her shirt. “I can smell Dane’s cologne, but that’s it.”
God. Her sexual afterglow is kind of annoying. More like it makes me jealous. With Joel…I shouldn’t fault him. He was eager. He always wanted to please me. And I appreciated that but…okay fine, the problem was me. I had the hang ups. I couldn’t let go. I get too nervous during sex. I worry about how I look, how I’m touching him, how he’s touching me, do I smell, do I look fat, can he see the cellulite on my butt, oh my God did I just fart?
Do I give good blowjobs or bad? Ugh, does he want to lick me down there? Gross, don’t do it. I won’t come anyway. I’m sweaty. I’m smelly. I’m tired. My jaw hurts. Can’t he just come already and get it over with?
Yeah. I have serious self-esteem issues when it comes to sex. I wish I could just relax and let loose and be free. Like Kelli, or like the rest of the girls on campus who are getting some on a regular basis. Performance anxiety really stresses me out. Sex is supposed to be fun, right? I feel like it’s a job. Or worse, I feel like it’s a test.
Yes, a giant, everything depends on this moment epic test and I am always, always going to fail. I’ve gotten quite good at pretending. Faking orgasm. Faking interest. Faking everything.
Maybe I should’ve become
a nun. Bad thing is, I’m not Catholic.
“While I’m taking a shower, you need to do your hair. Curl it like you do sometimes. It’s pretty like that.” Kelli waves a hand at the bright yellow, very expensive curling iron my mom had shipped to me for my birthday from Sephora. The thing works like magic. Considering its price tag, it should.
Not sure where Mom got the money for it since we are most assuredly middle class, but I do know she’s been dating a new guy lately who I think she’s getting to foot all the bills. She says she’s been remodeling the house lately too, which is kind of strange but hey, he must really like her. And she’s a pretty awesome lady, I must say. So if her boyfriend Dex is funding the remodel, then good for her. Good for us. I should reap the benefits of this too since I’m coming home for the summer.
At least there’s something to look forward to.
“And wear that cute pale blue top. You know, the one that’s sleeveless and has the crisscross in the back?”
“Kell. That shirt shows practically all my goods.” I bought it because Joel encouraged me to. I’ve worn it exactly once and felt so self-conscious the entire night I deemed it unwearable forevermore. “In fact, it’s yours now. You’re an owner.”
“No way. I bought one just like it but in a different print. You are so wearing it tonight.” Kelli grins. “And you’re wearing it because it shows off all your goods. You have a hot bod, friend! Such a tiny waist and those boobs! Women pay good money for boobs like those.”
I glance down at my chest. “You’re crazy.”
“No, you’re crazy for not showing those ta-tas off more! You’re gonna curl your hair, I’m gonna do your makeup, you’ll wear that shirt that shows off your goods and we’re gonna get wasted, baby. We’re going to have the night of our lives!” Kelli dances out of our dorm room, slamming the door behind her.
I stare at the door for a moment too long before I finally heave myself off the bed with a big sigh and go over to the makeshift vanity Kelli and I turned our one lone desk into and plug in the curling iron. Flopping into the chair, I settle in and flick on the lights of the three-way mirror Kelli brought with her from home, making a face at my reflection.
I look crazy. Hair is whack since I let it dry naturally so it’s sort of all over the place. My skin looks pale, the freckles stark and too obvious for my liking. My brows need plucking and…I lean in closer, turn my chin to the right. Great. A pimple. I run my finger over the blemish right on my jawline, knowing that with a few dabs of foundation and one of those magic brushes Kelli’s always wielding, she can make it disappear.
Thank God for friends. And moms that splurge on too expensive curling irons.
Amen.
* * *
Shep
* * *
“A frat party? That’s so déclassé.” I’m lounging outside by the pool, soaking up the spring-but-it-almost-feels-like-summer heat. California is suffering a major drought, which means hot women in string bikinis hanging out by the pool comes that much earlier. I should have a poolside party tomorrow afternoon…
“Quit with your bullshit fancy words and just agree to go with me,” Gabe gripes good naturedly, like he’s wont to do. Because nothing ever gets this asshole down, his life is perfect. Gabriel Walker should be one of those models in a Ralph Lauren ad, where they’re all beautiful, wearing perfect clothing and riding horses through a lush green field and laughing with children and a gorgeous woman is clinging to his side.
Good thing he’s my best friend or I’d hate his guts.
“And why are we going to a frat house again?” I sound bored because I am. I’ve been to enough frat parties to last a lifetime. I’m also frustrated. Last night had been…insane. I went from the incredible high of winning that crazy hand and getting the girl to having said girl slap me across the face in front of everyone.
Everyone.
Reaching up, I touch my face, wincing at the hint of pain when I probe my cheekbone. Bitch Face Jade has a solid swing. I’ll give her that.
“Because I want to. We need to cut loose, man. I just turned in a major paper and it feels good to have that out of my hair. I’m going to be leaving for the summer and won’t see your ass for months. I’ll miss you.”
“Aw,” I interrupt. “We can write each other. Send each other selfies so we don’t forget what we look like.”
“Shut up,” he mutters. “Come on. We need to live it up before school’s out. Next year is our last. Then we gotta be all responsible and shit.” Gabe sounds melancholy. He has no problem sharing his feelings, getting sentimental. Me on the other hand? I show nothing. I keep everything, every emotion, every feeling, close to my chest.
It’s easier that way.
“Besides it’s our frat asshole, not that you’ve been coming around lately,” Gabe continues. “They miss you. They want to hang out with the legendary Shepard Prescott.”
“Bullshit.” I take a sip from my beer, set it down on the tiny metal table beside me with a loud clunk. The late afternoon sun is intense and I’m sweating. I should jump in the pool real quick to cool off, but it’s still ice cold so I’ll pass. “No gambling tonight,” I add. It’s Tristan’s night to work anyway so I don’t have to be there.
“Why? You still mad over how the little redhead burned you?” Gabe laughs.
I’m tempted to throw my phone in the pool but restrain myself. “My cheek still hurts,” I mutter.
Gabe laughs harder. “She’s a firecracker, I’ll give her that. Bet she’s an amazing fuck.”
“You thought about fucking her?” I feel vaguely possessive. Fine, more than vaguely possessive. More like, I’m venturing into she’s mine territory.
“Well, yeah. Did you get a good look at her? I know you did. You couldn't keep your eyes off her. She’s hot, with all that hair and the tits and her mouth? Christ.”
“What about her mouth?” Yeah. He has no business thinking of Jade like this. Talking about Jade like this.
You don’t either asshole.
“You sound jealous.”
I snort. “Impossible. What could I be jealous of?”
“Exactly. That’s why you need to come to the house tonight. Lots of girls will be there. You can have your pick and get that temperamental Jade out of your head for good,” Gabe says.
“I won her fair and square. If I ever see her again, I’m collecting,” I say, feeling like a jerk the second the words fall from my mouth.
“I think it’s in your best interest you never see her again. Right? She’s crazy, dude. She fucking slapped you. What the hell was her problem anyway?”
Oh, I don’t know. Her boyfriend gave her up pretty damn easily. I was being a prick. Granted, she was being somewhat of a bitch and I was just leveling the playing field so to speak but…
It was a tense night. An insane night. One I don’t want to repeat.
So why’d I dream about her? About those bee-stung lips clinging to mine, and her tongue. About my hands buried in all that vibrant red hair, tugging on it, making her moan. About her ass filling my palms and her tits pressed against my chest and…
“I’ll pick you up at ten,” Gabe says, crashing into the middle of my hot thoughts.
“What time does the party start?”
“Nine. We’ll make an epic entrance,” Gabe reassures me before we end the call.
I’m tired of epic entrances too. I’m tired of…everything. It all bores me. I sound like a dick but I can’t help myself. I’ve been handed everything I could ever want. My family comes from old money. The Prescotts have been around for generations, originally making their money in real estate. Mother is a Shepard and their multigenerational fortune came from the stock market.
Jade had been right. I’m a complete asshole with my rich guy name and my rich guy attitude. I know nothing else. I’ve never been anything else but the spoiled rich kid. The boy who went to boarding school because his parents were sick of dealing with his shit so they got him out of the house in the most l
egitimate way. The boy who shoplifted from various stores one too many times when he was thirteen so he got shoved into the back of a police car and questioned at the station in order to be taught a lesson. The high school student who was caught snorting coke in the chemistry lab with a couple of friends and almost got expelled.
Thank God for Daddy who wrote a big check and got all that nastiness swept under the rug.
I don’t really do drugs anymore. My vice of choice is alcohol and ever since I became of legal age to drink it, I’m not indulging as much. It’s not forbidden anymore so therefore, I’m over it.
Oh, and my other vice—besides women—is gambling.
It’s illegal, what we’re doing, what we’re running at Gabe’s. And that’s more than half the thrill. If I can’t push it to the very edge, then I’m not having any fun.
Sick but true.
I’m fairly sure that’s why I enjoyed toying with Jade so much, why I included her in our bet last night. It felt forbidden, asking Joel to bet his girl. I’ve pushed guys to bet their cars (and I’ve won two, sold them both on Craigslist), to bet their motorcycles (never won one), to bet their designer sunglasses (won more than my fair share), their gold necklaces, their fucking Nikes, their dogs (never won a pet either).
I’ve never asked for a girl though. Her anger had fueled me. Her smart mouth had turned me on. Touching the bare skin of her arm…she’s incredibly soft. The scent of her hair, those big eyes, those bigger tits.
Christ.
I have it bad. Maybe I need to find another hot redhead tonight and fuck her. Fuck Bitch Face Jade right out of my system so I’ll quit thinking about her.
But first, I’m gonna take a shower and jerk off to thoughts of her lips wrapped tight around my cock. Just to take the edge off.
“This sucks,” I yell in Gabe’s ear.
“What are you? An old man?” Gabe looks incredulous, then flashes a giant smile at me as he clutches his bottleneck beer tight. “Look. How can this even begin to suck?”
Keep This Promise Page 22