The Unforgettable Kind

by Melanie Munton

  I thought back to how I’d kissed him on the cheek and luridly stared at him all throughout our conversation. I closed my eyes, wanting to die right there in that coffee shop. He must have thought I was so naïve, so stupid.

  Please, Universe, just open up a hole beneath my feet and suck me right in.

  With one word, all my hopes and plans for the future did a swan dive off a fifty-story balcony.

  College is going to suck ass.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)”

  by Journey

  Kade

  I am such a fucking coward.

  I should have told Sam about Robyn right from the beginning, especially after I’d seen the tell-tale lust in her eyes. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing from Sam and hadn’t been prepared for it. The way her gaze had roved over my body in a no-holds-barred perusal had taken me by complete surprise. The way she hadn’t even tried to mask it was so damn sexy. And as shameful as it was to admit, I wanted her to look at me that way.

  I had selfishly craved her interest and attention for years.

  Finally having it was fucking hot.

  Never wanting it to end was wrong.

  And feeling that way made me an asshole.

  But Christ.

  She’d looked more beautiful than I’d ever seen her. I had to get out of there the second I’d mentioned Robyn’s name because I couldn’t stand to see that look on Sam’s face. Her bright smile had dropped as if she’d been slapped.

  I didn’t think she’d be overjoyed to hear I had a girlfriend.

  I never thought she’d be crushed.

  I’d battled against myself over the past two years to wipe all romantic feelings and sexual attraction I felt toward Sam from my mind. I’d eventually taken the hint during my senior year of high school that we weren’t going to pick up where we left off. It would have been too much on her plate at once, with Mrs. Canton’s death shadowing the school year.

  That year had been pure torture for everyone.

  Things had gotten easier after I left for college. Out of sight, out of mind had worked for me in this case. Mostly.

  But now she was here.

  Not three hours away in Mason anymore.

  I wasn’t sure how to handle being friends with Sam now that Robyn was in the picture. I’d been able to deal with it when she’d been with Trent because I didn’t have to worry about her having feelings for me. But seeing that heady look on her face in the coffee shop? Knowing she wants me? What the hell was I supposed to do with that? Especially since my own reaction hadn’t been what I was hoping for.

  My dick apparently had other plans.

  The bastard had gotten hard the second her lips brushed my cheek.

  Big deal, though. I’d always been attracted to her physically. That wasn’t the same thing as having feelings. I had a girlfriend now who I definitely did have feelings for, so I had to ignore the way my body felt inexplicably drawn to Sam.

  The scent of cherries clung to my shirt, the smell so distinctly Sam.

  I needed a damn drink.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Nothing but cherries.

  Fuck. More like a shot.

  ***

  Students were packed inside the house, dancing to the pounding beat coming from the massive speakers, drinks in hand while new acquaintances were made and numbers were exchanged. Darkness had fallen over an hour ago, which meant that people were already good and drunk by now. There were a million things around me that I should have been able to distract myself with. But all I was looking for in the sea of co-eds was a pair of green eyes and long blond hair.

  There she is.

  And fuck me, I recognized what she was wearing.

  The standard uniform of the waitresses at Fielder’s Bar and Grill was a flannel shirt tied up around the waist, a cropped white tank top underneath, and cut-off denim shorts. It was a popular local haunt for watching a game or burning off steam after class.

  It was also known for hiring some of the hottest girls on campus.

  And I really didn’t like the idea of Sam working there.

  God knows how many times she was getting hit on every night.

  Like right now, by the pretty boy chatting her up. Hell, every guy in her vicinity was probably dying to talk to her in those goddamn shorts. They showed off her tanned, mile-long legs to perfection. And as for the douchebag in front of her? The spiked hair told me all I needed to know. Who actually still gelled their hair anymore?

  No matter how long the line of guys waiting to approach her got, none of them were good enough for her.

  My fists balled. I wanted to fucking break something.

  You’re not her protector, asshole.

  That little voice inside my head was right, but shit. If I didn’t do it, who the hell else would?

  It wasn’t like Drake could watch out for her all the way from Arizona—he’d just gotten drafted by the Cardinals. She might have handled herself well enough in Mason, but college was a whole new world, full of dumbasses. She was a big girl and all, but that sass of hers was more likely to attract more of those dumbasses than turn them away.

  Stop being a fucking hypocrite. You have a girlfriend.

  Just then, while I stood snarling at her like a pit bull about to piss a circle around her—as if it were my goddamn right—she shifted her body around and locked eyes with me. Catching sight of my livid expression, she paused whatever she was saying. I tipped my chin at her, signaling her to come to me.

  And yeah, I knew doing that made me an epic bastard.

  I had no right to interfere in her life.

  Mr. Button-Up sure didn’t look too happy to see her walk away, his scowl following her until he found my gaze. I smirked at him, sending the silent message loud and clear. That one’s not for you, buddy. Then I mentally berated the hell out of myself. The fact that Robyn wasn’t at the forefront of my mind made me feel like a genuine shit sandwich.

  “Making friends I see.”

  Her expression was guarded, her posture defensive as she crossed her arms. “That a problem? Because I don’t remember you being my keeper.”

  Her words had some bite to them. She was pissed.

  Fine. I could do pissed. I had some frustration, too.

  This was better than the lusty tension that had been clinging to us in the coffee shop, anyway.

  “All I’m saying is that parties like these can get a little wild. Lots of drunk morons groping anything with boobs, and it doesn’t help when you’re wearing that uniform. That is, unless you’re looking for some drunken groping.”

  Oh, that got a reaction. She glared at me so hard, you’d think there’d be a giant hole burned through my skull. I had no excuse for my rudeness, either. Angry snark had replaced common sense the second I saw her smiling flirtatiously at a guy who couldn’t be bothered to look anywhere but at her tits when she was talking to him.

  “It’s a college party,” she bit out. “Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for. Tomorrow is for worrying about the mistakes made tonight. Isn’t that how it goes?”

  I huffed out a breath, half scoff and half disbelieving laugh. I tilted my head back toward Mr. Button-Up. “Appropriate choice right there. That’s nothing but a mistake with gelled hair.”

  She shrugged, taking in the scene around us. “Can you blame me? Mason didn’t exactly have a whole lot of…variety.” The last word was said with obvious appreciation.

  I brought my cup to my mouth in an effort to hide the way I was baring my teeth like some kind of feral animal. “Didn’t look like you were going for variety with that one. The preppy boy type is a dime a dozen around here.”

  The angry fire that glowered in her eyes gave me a sick kind of pleasure. At least I had her full attention whenever we argued. And damn it to all hell, her temper always got me hard.

  Robyn, Robyn, Robyn.

  “Jealous?” she asked snidely.

  I ignored her
cocky expression. She thought she had me, did she? “Just thought I’d offer a warning.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself, thanks. I don’t need another older brother telling me what to do.”

  If I didn’t have a girlfriend, I would have kissed that smug smile right off her face. “Whatever you say. Just trying to avoid another Trent situation.”

  That did it.

  Have you ever seen fire turn to ice? Because that’s exactly what Sam’s face did. Jesus, it was like the pits of hell had just frozen over.

  It was a low blow and I knew it. I wasn’t sure what had made the words tumble out before I could suck them back in. It wasn’t her fault that all I wanted to do was take her back to my room and couldn’t because I had a girlfriend. Even knowing that, I was still unreasonably irritated.

  “Hey, babe.” The female voice behind me was accompanied by a thin, willowy arm snaking its way around my neck.

  I finally broke away from Sam’s haughty gaze and turned to kiss Robyn full on the lips, grateful for her interruption.

  “Hey. I’m happy you’re here. Robyn, this is Sam, the friend from high school I told you about. She’s a freshman here. Sam, this is Robyn.”

  Sam looked at me questioningly, no doubt wondering what I’d told Robyn about her. Or why I’d only referred to her as my “friend from high school.” But she pasted on her best smile as she and my girlfriend shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” Robyn said cheerfully. “Kade’s told me all about you. You’re on an academic scholarship, aren’t you? That’s impressive. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said in a low voice. She tucked her hair behind her ear, in an almost self-conscious gesture. That wasn’t something I’d often seen from her, and I wondered if it had to do with the girl standing next to me.

  Robyn was gorgeous, with shoulder-length chestnut hair and the body of a supermodel. I often told her she could stand to eat more than just a salad every now and then because she was too thin, but she actually liked hearing that. She had the kind of air and sophistication about her that was typical of her well-bred pedigree, having come from a trust fund and silver spoon type of family. Although somewhat spoiled, she was a very sweet and kind person. We met when we’d both been volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club.

  But for all of Robyn’s beauty and poise, something about Sam put her in a whole different category of stunning. The kind of aura she exuded made her stand out in any crowd. It was like a cloud of warm sunshine and smooth sensuality followed her everywhere she went, something I suspected she wasn’t even aware of.

  “What’s your major?” Robyn asked.

  “Broadcasting. With a double minor in journalism and communications.”

  I knew she caught my huge grin of approval before she turned back to Robyn, our earlier row momentarily forgotten. My chest swelled with pride that she’d decided to give up on that teaching bullshit and pursue her dream.

  “Wow, that’s awesome. So, you want to be a reporter or newscaster or something?”

  “A sportscaster actually. That is, if all the men in this country can wrap their heads around a woman knowing anything about football.”

  Robyn laughed. “Tell me about it. I’m pre-law, so I’ve got many years of wading through a sea of testosterone ahead of me. No matter how many female lawyers there are in the world, it feels like the field is still dominated by men.”

  Sam smiled. I could tell it was a genuine one. “What kind of law do you want to practice?”

  My mind drifted as they discussed Robyn’s specific interests and both of their plans for the future. I was ready to get this fun little meet-and-greet over with, so I could torture myself with alcohol instead of conflicted emotions.

  Robyn’s hand on my chest brought me back to the conversation. “Well, you seem to have your ten-year plan wrapped up nicely. Maybe you could talk this guy into being a little more decisive with his life choices.”

  That’s the absolute last fucking thing I want to talk about right now.

  “I decided on my ten-year plan a long time ago,” I murmured into my cup. “Football. It’s sort of why I’m here.”

  Robyn waved her hand through the air. “Yes, I know. You’re going to have a long career in the NFL and retire by the time you’re forty. But you still have to graduate college, and you can’t do that until you decide on a major.”

  Sam frowned. “You’re still undecided?”

  Yeah, I hadn’t told her that yet. I knew I had to choose eventually, but I had no desire to focus on any path for my life other than football. The degree would be pointless, anyway, since my job would be going straight to the pros. That was my future.

  “I’ve still got time,” I said, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Sensing that topic was closed, Robyn said, “Well, we should all do dinner sometime.”

  I tried not to cringe, pretty sure I wanted these two around each other as little as possible.

  Sam smirked, like she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Definitely we should.”

  Something got her attention behind us, and she started waving, smiling at whoever it was.

  It better not have been Mr. Button-Up.

  Not your business.

  “I’m going to go say hi to some people. It was really nice meeting you, Robyn.”

  “You too, Sam. We’ll see you soon.”

  Sam shot me one last scalding glare before walking away and out of sight.

  “So, you guys were never together?”

  My head whipped around to Robyn. “What? No. You know we weren’t. Why would you ask that?”

  She considered me with an inquisitive expression. “There was just this…energy between you. It made me wonder.”

  Makes me wonder, too.

  “We’ve only ever been friends.”

  “I know. I just think it’s a little odd, that’s all.”

  “What’s odd?”

  “She’s the only non-relative girl you’ve ever introduced me to. All your other friends are guys.”

  Her eyes dared me to deny it. I wrapped my arm around her tiny waist and pulled her to me.

  “Mason was a small town. There weren’t a lot of options for friends.”

  The words tasted like acid on my tongue. I hadn’t become friends with Sam out of default or a lack of something better. We would have clicked anywhere, regardless of whether it was in Mason or Atlanta or freaking Alaska. Our friendship was inevitable.

  Or maybe Sam herself was an inevitability for me.

  In all this time, I hadn’t been able to shake her even one little bit.

  Robyn shrugged, looking unsatisfied. “Just wondering if I should be jealous or not.”

  I chuckled, kissing her forehead. “You’ve never been jealous before. Even when girls are practically attacking me after my games.”

  “Because I know you’ll never touch any of them. I know what type of guy you are and what type you aren’t. But there’s never been a Sam before.”

  I swallowed, glad she couldn’t see how her words affected me. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  She was right. I wasn’t the type who would ever cheat, knowing full well how shitty that was to do to someone. I’d break up with a girl if I ever thought there was a risk of that happening.

  But if there was one girl on the planet who could ever tempt me to that point of no return, the place I never wanted to go and that would cause me to hate myself forever, it was Sam.

  Ah, shit.

  Maybe Robyn wasn’t the one who needed to worry about Sam.

  Maybe it was me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Somebody to Love”

  by Jefferson Airplane

  Now

  Sam

  “Remind me why I have to go to this thing.”

  Jasmine’s eyes scold me through the mirror as she fastens the back of my dress. “Because you’re receiving an award, and your boss demanded that you show up. And becaus
e you’re required by best friendship decree to showcase my designs at any and every event you attend. So, stop whining and let me finish this.”

  It takes great effort not to slump my shoulders and pout like a six-year-old. I don’t want to spend my Friday night at this stuffy newscasters banquet and accept this dumb award that doesn’t really mean dick. The National Newscasters Association is only presenting it to me because they’ve received flack over the last few years for not including enough women at their annual awards ceremony. I believe the one I’m receiving is called Excellence in Tele-Broadcast Communications.

  Puh-lease.

  Yes, we women are sick of sexism in the workplace and in our daily lives. Yes, we want to be treated as equals to men, especially in the workplace. And yes, I fight every day against the disadvantages of being a woman in the male-dominated world of football.

  But…

  Call me contrary or overly sensitive, but it’s just as insulting to receive an award simply because I have lady parts than to not even be considered for said award simply because I have lady parts. It was as if they’d said Okay, we’ll give this award to a woman—any woman—if it will shut everyone else up. It’s reverse sexism when you think about it. The group of people that will be in attendance tonight are all newscasters. We all do the same type of job, but some of us just do it better than others. Therefore, I want to receive such an award based solely on my job performance and nothing else.

  Probably shouldn’t put that in my acceptance speech.

  I look over myself in the mirror. “I guess it does give me an excuse to wear an original Jasmine King.” She decided to shorten her last name, Kingston, for her professional name and designer brand. “It really is beautiful, Jaz.”

  She steps back to inspect me. “You’re the one who makes it fabulous, doll. I just draw it on a piece of paper and sew it together.”

  “You make it sound more clinical than creative,” I chastise. “Give yourself more credit.”

  “And people like you bring the creativity to life.” She holds her arms out in a ta-da! gesture and smiles.

  I spin around, looking at the back, and whistle. “You might have outdone yourself this time. This is gorgeous work.”