2B or Not 2B

by Stephanie Witter

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry, Macon.”

  “See! You should snap back something like, ‘Don’t put your boxers into a twist,’ instead of answering that dull way.” He pushed away my long bangs and locked his dark eyes into my brown ones, seeking to see inside me like only true best friends could.

  “I know. Let’s get drunk, and it’ll be more fun then.”

  He sighed and glanced past my shoulders; his smile returned. I turned around and saw my very own roommate walking toward us. His blue eyes looking quite dark in the semi-dimness of the house, I noticed his stubble seemed darker, too, on his cheeks and square jaw. Even his scar was more visible, tracing a straight path on his otherwise smooth skin. Damn, he was a fine piece of man with his swagger, his jeans hanging low on his strong hips, and his black teeshirt strained over his chest and biceps. He was sin on legs, and other girls in the room thought so, too. Several of them ogled him, many of them being exactly his type, but he didn’t even spare them a glance. No, he was resolutely staring at me.

  He nodded once at Macon, but didn’t look away from me. He leaned into me. I could smell beer and hard liquor on his breath, and yet it didn’t disgust me at all. What did that say about me? “Dance with me, Bridge.” He didn’t yell in my ear like Macon did to make himself heard. His rich voice reached me without trouble, and I had to fight a shiver.

  “You’re drunk.”

  He smirked at me, his eyes roamed my body, but I didn’t understand the glint in his eyes. I was dressed with large jeans hanging low on my large hips with an imposing brown leather belt and my top was a simple night blue, low cut tank top. His eyes enjoyed the view of my cleavage though, and I tried to not squirm under his intense and arousing scrutiny. I could almost feel the trail of his eyes on my skin and goosebumps appeared.

  “So? Afraid I’d cop a feel and you’d enjoy it so much that you’d beg me to fuck you upstairs?”

  I did shiver this time. He was laying it on thick. I looked beside me, but Macon wasn’t there anymore. The traitor left me to my intoxicated and overly flirtatious roommate. I waved him off and smiled with amusement while my heart was everything but calm and composed in my chest. No, it was hammering. “Yeah, right. Try it with the leggy brunettes you love so much,” I replied and gestured to some of the girls around us, sizing me up with a sneer on their face at seeing a guy like Byron talking to a girl sporting several pounds too much.

  He didn’t even bat an eye or look away. His blue eyes were shining on me, bathing me with the lust I could see underneath. First thing I should know about Byron, alcohol made him horny. The other day when we had too many shots, he kissed me, and tonight he was trying to get me to make a mistake, something I’d regret for more than one reason. Beginning with losing my right to live at his place because, let’s face it, living under the same roof after that would be too damn uncomfortable.

  “Jealous?” He arched an eyebrow at me, still smirking.

  I chuckled and shook my head. “Dream on, Lord.”

  Once again, he ate the space separating us. He breathed against my neck, his stubble almost, but not yet, brushing against my skin. I had to stiffen to not lean into him and feel him against me. “I do, London. I dream about you underneath me, moaning my name while I thrust into you harder and harder, and it’s so easy with the sweat coating our body.” He slurred his words just a little, and his deep, dark voice made it all the more exciting. Everything in my brain just shut down.

  My body stirred with desire, the kind that made you forget how wrong it was and how dangerous it was for you to play these kind of games. No, my body was screaming at me to play along, and I couldn’t resist Byron’s call.

  “Nope, I’d be the one on top riding you until you come and beg me to stop.”

  He pulled back just a little bit, his eyes glazed over with a mix of lust and alcohol. “Fuck.” He mouthed. “You didn’t just say that.”

  “I said it, and I’m sure it makes you hard just hearing those words coming from my mouth.” I decided to play dirty by biting lightly my full lower lip and pushing my cleavage a little more toward him, just a breath away from touching his torso.

  He was breathing harder, heavier, and I was too. “You’re playing with fire, Bridge.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re too drunk to remember any of it tomorrow.”

  He ran a hand across my cheek, and it tingled all over my body and warmed me even more, making me hot with a desire I barely remembered I could feel. “I’ll remember, just like I remember how your lips and tongue felt like when I kissed you.”

  I swallowed with some difficulty. “Good for you.”

  He cocked his head to one side, his smirk still in place. “Tell me, Bridge, what it feels like to hear the girls I fucked so hard I made them moan oh so loud?”

  I frowned, reining in the first thing that came to my mind. I wanted to yell, “Asshole’” to his face and walk away, but it wouldn’t be me. It would show that it bothered me when it shouldn’t, and I didn’t want to give him that kind of power over my head. I pushed past the cold seizing my chest. “It’s nothing that I haven’t heard before.”

  “Don’t you want to be one of them?”

  “No.”

  His smirk deepened. “Liar.”

  This time I was the one coming closer to him, leaning against him even if I was too short to be at an advantage. “You don’t understand, Byron. I don’t let guys stick their dick inside me. I give them head, and that’s all. No sex and hands off me. You’re not more than other guys, and I want to keep my room in your place. But believe me, I’m really good when it comes to turning a guy on, even if I’m not thin and leggy.”

  He placed his mouth just in front of mine, his eyes sending sinful messages my body was very in tune to translate. “I’m sure I can turn you on so much that you’d beg me to fuck you, Bridge. Wanna bet?”

  I shook my head and stepped away. He was too much. Way too much. “Whatever.” I turned around and headed for the improvised bar to numb this lust―or find a willing guy to give me some control back―when he called me back, his voice boomed even over the deafening music.

  “Hey London! You are fucking appetizing.”

  I gaped at him and walked away faster, ready to gulp the first thing I could find. Damn it and him! He’d kill me with his hotness. For the first time in over a year, I wanted to get laid, and it was by the wrong person. Again.

  Chapter Eight

  DAY 17

  Going to class with a hangover from hell was awful, and yet it was not my first time. I should be more careful when going out on a week night, but no. For some reason, last night, I thought it was a good idea to drink in order to numb the longing for my roommate. Oh, it did the job quite all right, so much so that I barely batted an eye when I saw Byron leading a slutty looking brunette upstairs at the frat house. But I did puke on myself as soon as the warm air outside hit me.

  I wrinkled my nose at the memory and walked faster toward the building for my next class, trying to escape the loud noises of the students talking animatedly. I groaned and rubbed my left temple as I pushed open the door.

  “Lonie!”

  I froze and looked up. My mouth dried all of a sudden, and my heart tried to make a run for it. Nobody called me Lonie. Nobody but one person, and I used to think it was an endearment, something only someone in love would use. I was naïve enough to think it was because he loved me and wanted to create his own pet name for me when it was just a way for him to tighten his leash on me and ruin me even more.

  Ryan was there, alone and standing in front of me. His casualness was wrecking me because I was everything but. My body was tense, and I felt all my flaws as they weighed on my shoulders. It’s hard to face the one person who ruined my heart, the one person who was able to strip me bare from my perky self in order to hurt me just because I was … easy.

  “It’s been a while, Lonie,” he said. He ran a hand in his perfectly groomed hair, showing the muscles in his arms.
He’s more bulked than he used to be in high school. His body changed since the last time I slept with him, since the last time I was close enough to him to punish myself one last time by telling him how much I loved him.

  “Don’t call me that, Ryan.” I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and started walking past him when he reached out to me, leaning into my ear.

  “I’m sure you often think about me.”

  I glanced around us, but nobody was paying attention, nobody was there to save me from this … from this guy. I was alone, and it freaked me out. Or maybe it was feeling so out of control that was freaking me out the most. Because a part of me still wanted him to chose me over his girlfriend. That was foolish, pathetic and it would never happen, but I couldn’t help it. I hated him, but I had loved him for so long that it was impossible to forget my feelings. It was like they echoed through me, just like when you screamed while surrounded by mountains and your voice echos a while after your throat stopped burning from screaming so loud. Ryan was an annoying old habit I had a hard time getting rid of while he had no problem whatsoever.

  “You’re not that important to me, Ryan.”

  He swept away my long bangs, and I gasped before pulling away to put some much needed space between us. For the first time since I met Ryan years ago, his touch did nothing to me, but disgusted me. I cringed, and still the memory of how I used to feel for him made me more vulnerable than I should.

  “I took your virginity.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And I took yours. Now leave me alone.”

  I sidestepped him but his voice, the one that could be so soft, so caring when he wanted to play one of his mind games, stopped me yet again. “What do you say we go at it for old time sake?”

  I looked back; my eyes narrowed on his face as I wanted to scrap off the smirk he reserved for me only, the one that deepened his dimples. “Don’t tell me your amazing girlfriend is still not putting out.”

  He straightened his shoulders, and his smirk disappeared. “That’s none of your business, London.”

  I turned all the way around and waved him off, but hid my hand in my black jeans pocket when I saw how badly I was shaking. “Then don’t bother me and find another idiot with a vagina to release your itch.”

  He blushed slightly and cocked his head to one side, his golden brown eyes now focused on my lips. “Do you know how hot it is when you talk like that?”

  I shook my head. “Fuck off, Ryan. I’m not going to sleep with you again.”

  He chuckled, and it irked me so much that I was a breath away from having a temper tantrum that would need a medical intervention to calm me down. “Let me laugh, Lonie. I’ll always be your weakness. I see how you look at me. You want me.”

  “I hate you.”

  He shrugged. “Not enough to not have sex with me again.” And on these words, he turned around and left me alone and crushed, just like that day of the graduation ceremony over a year ago.

  Just with this chance encounter, I lost myself. I didn’t feel like London Reed anymore, but more like Lonie, the pathetic girl Ryan Lender fucked in more ways than one.

  I looked down the hall and couldn’t imagine spending two hours listening to the lecture on some fucking literature thing I didn’t care about one bit. I shook my head and willed myself to not let the threatening tears fall. I wasn’t that kind of girl. I needed a plan to avoid Ryan. I needed … and at once, just like that, with a scheme drawing fast in my mind, I walked away. It was time to finally claim some control over Ryan and maybe move on for good.

  *

  DAY 19

  Byron walked in the apartment, his swagger unmistakably sexy. He put down his backpack near the door and waved at me. A thin sheet of sweat coated his forehead. He looked tired, and that wasn’t surprising with his bedroom activities.

  I bit my tongue, trying to wait a little to give him some time to cool off, but I didn’t have that much patience. Spending these last few days with barely any words exchanged was starting to get to me. And I had a more pressing issue to attend to, now that I had a plan. Getting rid of Ryan was my top priority. I stood up and all but blurted out, “Byron, I need your help.”

  He arched one of his thick eyebrows and grabbed a water bottle. He took a sip and sat on the couch I just vacated. “It must be serious if you called me by my name and not by the fucking nickname.”

  I sighed and sat back next to him, fidgeting with a hole in the denim at my knee. Damn it, it was harder than I thought. More so with what happened at the party; the thing we’re not talking about. “I’m not kidding.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed once before he pulled away. If he thought touching me would do me good … well, it was doing me some good, but not the way it should.

  Since the party, we hadn’t spent all that much time alone together. If we were alone here, I ended up in my room or him in his. And every time we were close, there was this thing, this tension sizzling and giving me wicked ideas. My body wasn’t the last one onboard.

  “Hey, what’s wrong? You look pale.”

  I took a deep breath and shook my head. “Do you remember when I told you about Ryan?”

  He tensed and nodded. The muscles in his arms bulged just a second, but long enough for me to see it. His left hand balled the hem of his blue teeshirt while his other one ran in his buzzed hair. “Yeah, I remember about the jerkface. So, what about him?”

  I bit my lip and shivered when his blue eyes locked on it, but it wasn’t the time for that. “He talked to me.” I dried my hands on my thighs. “He asked me to have sex with him, and he’s not ready to drop it. He’s persuaded I’ll agree soon.”

  He squared his shoulders, all trace of his flirty behavior vanished. “And?”

  “And I need your help because I’m not really sure if I can resist him for long.”

  Admitting this weakness was hard. I was afraid to tell Macon, and he was my best friend! So telling this to Byron, such a strong guy who knew nothing about me, was something else. If only he could see just the crazy me and not the broken me, but living with him made hiding things more difficult. I was weak when it came to my heart.

  “You’re still attracted to this guy. Unbelievable.” He shook his head, not even looking at me anymore, but at my Kindle on the coffee table.

  “I know but … fuck! Forget about it.” I started standing up when his strong calloused hand shot up.

  “No, wait! What do you want me to do?”

  I gazed intently at him, making sure he was serious. After all, why would he help me? But his light blue eyes didn’t waiver. “He plays the big guy and everything, but I’m sure you can frighten him if you play the jealous guy. Don’t say you’re my boyfriend, but—‘’

  “But you want me to threaten him as if I was interested in you.”

  I smiled my sweetest smile, innocence incarnated. “I’ll wash the dishes for the next month and eleven days if you do this for me.”

  He laughed and ran a finger along his scar. “I would have done it even without it, but now I’m eager.”

  I couldn’t help myself but look at him like he was some kind of unknown species. “What? Why?”

  His eyes took in every inch of my face, slowly. “Because you deserve more than this bastard who hurt you. He needs a reality check, and I’m glad to do just that.”

  I chuckled at his gloomy look. This guy was something else. “Sometimes you really are frightening.”

  He smiled wickedly, and my body warmed. “Girls dig bad boys.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s true.”

  “Is there a message, Bridge?”

  “In your dreams,” I replied with a roll of my eyes, but it was all an act because there was a message there. I wanted him. I was screwed ― Uh, bad choice of words.

  Chapter Nine

  DAY 20

  “Don’t overdo it,” I stressed out as we were watching Ryan leave the building with some of his friends. They were laughing like morons with an IQ s
o low that I wondered if it wasn’t from the many hits they took since they started playing football as little kids. Poor guys, it wasn’t even their entire fault.

  Byron shrugged and put an arm around my shoulders. On another occasion, I might have had a tiny orgasm at the feeling of his hot skin against mine, the weight of his muscled arm around my neck bringing me toward him with a little push. And his smell. He smelled so good; it wasn’t normal for a guy who spent a day sweating in the suffocating classrooms. But no, I wasn’t enjoying the experience. I was focusing way too hard on what was about to happen, on the fact that Ryan would be in front of us in a few seconds now that he spotted me. I was freaking out, and I hated it. I scowled but added nothing as Ryan smirked at me. He didn’t care one bit that I was plastered against another guy, he was that sure of himself.

  “At least you’re not using your gay best friend to drive me away, Lonie,” Ryan said as soon as he was at a talking distance, barely looking at Byron.

  Ryan was way taller than Byron, but my roomy was very built, and he was a fucking soldier! I knew he’d chew Ryan in two seconds flat if it came to it. That too could almost bring me to orgasm, but I digressed.

  “Like I need someone to resist you,” I replied, leaning more against Byron’s body. “And don’t call me Lonie.”

  Byron’s body tensed when Ryan chuckled. Byron sighed and cocked his head to one side, making a show of his scar. Ryan’s eyes caught it; he paled a little. I felt Byron’s on the edge of breaking down and laughing, and I couldn’t blame him. Granted, when you see a badass looking guy with such a scar, the first thing that comes to your mind would be that said guy was some dangerous nut in a gang or something.

  “London, is taken,” Byron’s voice grumbled, and Ryan’s eyes locked on my face to assess me, like it’d be written on my forehead who’s banging me. Such an idiot.