She Wants It All: Sheridan Hall Series, Book Three

by Calla, Jessica

  My eyes leave Maggie, and I turn to the guy’s voice.

  Chase—and he’s with Juliet. He laughs and shakes his head, squeezing my shoulder.

  Juliet holds his other hand, giggling at me. “You got it so bad, Second Floor Dave,” she says.

  I twist out of his grip, and they move on. A few feet away, he turns to face me, walking backward and pointing at me. “Don’t fuck with her, hot stuff. You hurt her, we hurt you.”

  I give him the finger as they chuckle and walk away. The last thing I plan on doing is hurting Maggie. I only want to cherish her.

  In every way possible.

  Maggie

  It felt like it would never get here, but Thursday finally comes. I rush home from classes and spend an hour getting ready. A few minutes after eight, I walk through the second floor like I own the place, ready and excited for my date night.

  As I’m about to knock on Dave’s door, a tall, thin brunette pops out of the door next to Dave’s. Before I knock, I notice she’s staring at me.

  I wave. “Hi. I’m—”

  “Maggie,” she answers. “From the basement. I heard you were dating Dave.”

  I shrug. I’m not surprised that the Sheridan rumor mill is churning, given Dave’s reputation. He was in the parking lot in his boxers too. “Oh. Well—”

  She looks me up and down. “And I remember you from everything in November.”

  I don’t remember her, but I’m polite none the less. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

  “Suzi,” she says. “With an ‘I.’”

  A quick glance downward as she locks her door reveals she’s in heels and tight ripped jeans, with her flagrantly fake breasts more out than in. Her brown eyes are heavily lined, and her hair parts severely down the middle, lying flat and shiny. Suzi isn’t exactly pretty, but it’s a look.

  “Nice to meet you.” I wait for her to go away, but she stares. “I’m meeting Dave—”

  “So you’re the one, huh?” She crosses her arms under her fake boobs, creating more cleavage, as she looks me up and down.

  I mimic her pose. My boobs aren’t fake, but they can hold their own. “Which one would that be?” I use my sweet voice, but my crazy starts to bubble to the surface.

  “The one he wants to change for.”

  I squint.

  “Oh,” she says, shaking her head. “We used to hook up. Dave and me. You know, fuck around? But it’s been awhile, so don’t worry. I hope it works out for you.” In addition to being a terrible dresser, she’s a horrible actress. Obviously, she wants a reaction from me.

  I don’t take the bait. Instead, I knock on Dave’s door.

  “He’s fun in the sack. You’ll love it. He has a giant d—”

  I’m about to strangle this woman when Dave yanks the door open. “Hi, beautiful.” He sings the words.

  When I grimace and nudge my chin toward his neighbor, he peeks out of his room. “Suzi,” he says a little too loudly. “Did you meet Maggie?”

  Suzi giggles. “Yep. I was filling her in on all things Dave. She’s just like I thought she’d be. Sweet, virginal, blonde….”

  I march toward Suzi and lift my chin to see into her eyes. If it weren’t for her six-inch heels, I’d probably feel more intimidating. “I’m also classy enough not to start a fight in this hallway, but if that’s what you’re looking for, I may reconsider.”

  Suzi smirks and walks past me to Dave. His eyes are wide, focused on me. She pats him on the chest. “Your new girlfriend’s great.” She gives me a dirty look over her shoulder, which I return. Then I watch her sway down the hallway.

  When she’s gone, I fake smile at Dave, who’s frozen in his shocked stance. “Love your neighbor!” I sing and walk past him into the room. Once inside, I take a deep breath and roll my eyes. If I’m going to pursue this thing with Dave, I’ll have to accept that it’s not like Winston. I’m not his first rodeo, or his first…anything.

  I settle as I look around. Dave cleaned his room. Wine chills in a plastic beach bucket on his desk, and two red disposable cups sit next to it. The Scrabble board is set up on his bed, and his phone is on his headboard.

  He shuts the door and locks it. “Sorry about Suzi. I don’t know what she said—”

  I wave my hands at him and brush off Suzi’s negativity and Dave’s stress. “I know you have a history here.”

  “Are you going to leave?”

  I turn to face him. “I’d rather stay.”

  He grins and looks me over. His gaze makes me feel pretty and appreciated, like the effort I put into my appearance is worth it. I scan his long body. T-shirt and cargo shorts, bare feet. Then I look around the room.

  “I love what you did with the place. Wine? Fancy.”

  He smiles. “You deserve a lot better. But at least here, we can lock everyone out.” He directs me toward the desk and pours us plastic cups of white wine. We clink them together and look at each other over the tops as we sip.

  My body wakes, and I squirm, thinking about how he held me against the hallway wall Sunday night. So intense. Everything. His eyes, his body, his words. But I don’t know with him. His intensity comes in waves. Which Dave will I see tonight? I swirl my wine in my cup, nerves taking over. Every moment of silence between us increases my desire for him. Any of the hims he wants to share. Finally, when I can’t take it anymore, I blurt, “Megan says Scrabble is code for sex.”

  Dave spits out his wine. It splatters over his desk. “What?”

  “I’m just saying.” It was either that, or I’d jump him.

  He walks to the other side of the room and grabs a towel out of the closet. “I…uh…I hope that’s not what you think.” He walks back and wipes his wine splatter.

  I hold my hand over his, stopping his cleanup effort. “With real Dave coming out this week, texting me flirty texts, introducing me to his ex-lovers, wine, Scrabble, I don’t know what to expect.”

  Dave sighs. He drops the towel to his side. “Honestly, Maggie, real Dave’s a mystery to me too.”

  He moves around the room, then stops to face me. “I know you want to see the real me, but I don’t know who that is.” He points to the wall. “I mean, the real me isn’t the guy who fucked around with Suzi that first week of school. That’s not me.”

  I lift my cup in a toast. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “But this,” he gestures around the room, “isn’t the real me either.”

  I wait, not sure what to say. “It’s not?”

  He pounds his fist into his forehead. “Trust me. The way you teased me all week, how much you turn me on, the old me would have…” He looks down my body. “That skirt? Let’s just say there’d be a lot less clothes on you.”

  My face warms. “That doesn’t sound terrible.”

  He grins but continues pacing. “But I want more. You’re…you’re you. So I kind of studied.”

  I tilt my head and grimace. “Studied?”

  He walks to his desk, opens a drawer, and whips out three books. “See?” He fans them out at me.

  I squint and read the titles. Romances. Three romances. One of which I’ve read. Now I’m confused. I put down my wine and take the books out of his hands. “Are these yours?”

  He cringes. “I bought them before our date because Megan said you are looking for guys like these. I didn’t know what to do to get your interest, or what you wanted me to be, and I thought maybe I could fake it and try to be like the heroes in the books.”

  “Dave.” He stops talking and looks me in the eye. “You read these books? For me?”

  He takes them back and throws them on the desk. “I know. I’m a total loser.”

  Those damn butterflies swell from my stomach up to my neck, to my brain, and I’m fuzzy and dizzy all at once. I stand and touch his cheeks. “That is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

  He looks to the ground, then glances at me through his eyelashes. “It was a desperate move—”

  “Don’t you
see?” His breath catches as I move my hand over his jawline. “In the course of a weekend, you’ve jumped into a dumpster and saved three kittens, spent your hard-earned money on pet supplies, and cleaned my room of fleas while I slept in your bed.”

  I link my hands behind his neck. His eyes dart around, avoiding mine.

  “You made me a picnic overlooking the Statue of Liberty, and you saved my life when I had an allergy. You didn’t run away, you stayed with me in the hospital, and you….”

  With my hesitation, his eyes stop on mine. His hands find my waist and hold me steady. I feel his touch from head to toe.

  “You played me a song, that you wrote, that nobody’s ever heard.”

  He blushes, and I gently nudge his chin, forcing him to look at me. “That was you. You. If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is. You are way better than Captain Remus the pirate.”

  Dave chuckles. “Oh, you’ve read that one?”

  I smirk. “Not my favorite.”

  “Mine neither.”

  “If you are interested in the genre, I’d be happy to give you my recommendations.”

  Dave grins and tilts his chin so that my hands rub against the back of his neck. I tangle my fingers in his hair.

  “I think I’m off romance,” he says.

  I pout. “I must be losing my touch if you’re here, holding me, and declaring yourself off romance.”

  He shakes his head. “No, no, no. I mean as a genre, not as a thing. I want the romance thing. Here. With you.”

  “I like that answer.” I move closer, wanting to feel him against me, nuzzling my nose into his neck. “Are you being yourself now with me?”

  “Hm.” He rubs his head against my hands in his hair. “I am. But it’s still hard for me to look at you. You’re…I can’t believe you’re here, and my arms are around you.” He tightens his grip on my waist, and I wiggle even closer.

  He hums a tune, and we start to sway. “Dave?”

  “Hmm.” He buries his nose in my hair.

  I shut my eyes, my body heating in every spot we connect. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Hmm,” he sings again.

  I open my eyes and lean closer to his ear. “Will you kiss me?”

  He pulls away to look at me. I watch his Adam’s apple slide down his throat as he gulps at my request.

  I raise my eyebrows, waiting. “I’m begging.”

  Chapter 12

  Dave

  For months, I’d been thinking about this moment. This. Moment. From September when she was the Squirrel Girl to right now, I’ve fantasized about kissing Maggie. I couldn’t do it last week. On Sunday night, I thought maybe I could do it. But now, after this long week of dreaming about it, I ache for her lips.

  And here she is, standing in front of me asking me to kiss her again. Begging me to make my fantasies come to life.

  I can’t find words to answer, so I move my hands from her waist and pull her fingers off my neck, winding them with mine. I hold them and tilt my forehead to rest against hers.

  The times I’ve thought about this moment, I imagined I’d kiss her fiercely, maybe move her against a wall, grab her hair, and hear her moan my name. But that’s not what I want to do now. Now, I picture how her hair blew in the breeze and shined in the sunlight as she sat on the blanket and smiled up at me, so excited for our picnic. How little she looked shivering in the hospital bed when she woke. How her chin rested on my shoulder while I played her my song on the guitar.

  I hold her hands down between us and close my eyes, and then I brush her lips with mine. Hers are soft and warm, like the way her skin feels, but better. And they taste like cherries. It’s simple—simpler than my fierce kiss dream—but it squeezes my heart. This kiss is the closest I’ve ever been with a girl—mentally, physically, and emotionally.

  A tremor runs through my body as I pull away. I open my eyes to make sure I’m still awake and breathing, and Maggie’s blue eyes meet mine. Again, I rest my forehead against hers and hold our linked hands up to my mouth. Then I kiss her hands.

  Maggie

  Sweet Jesus and Mary. Dave flinches as he kisses my hands. The light touch of his lips makes me feel like melting into a puddle on the floor.

  Um, yeah, twinkle eyes, I’m gonna need more of that, please. I untangle my hands from his and move them to his face. His gaze darts to my mouth then back to my eyes. He tries to talk, but I put a finger over his lips to quiet him before he can get a word out.

  “Mag-da-lena.” He sings my name through my fingers and grins.

  Ah, that voice. That smile. With the next kiss, I push him a little more, feeling him the way I want to, testing him, and teasing him.

  He stiffens at first but soon relaxes against me. My moratorium on boys flies out the dorm room window onto the grassy commons of NJU.

  I think I’m in charge, setting the pace, until Dave lets out an audible sigh. In a flash, he smashes his body into mine, weaves his hands in my hair, and kisses me like he’s on a mission. His mouth is firm as he moves from my lower lip to my upper, nibbling. His hands tangle in and pull my hair down, lifting my chin to him, and he kisses down my neck.

  I use the moment to catch my breath, but I want his lips again. I’d never expect that Dave, who loses his mind at the sight of me, could kiss me so confidently. More than that, I’d never expect that I could kiss him back the same way, after Winston, after having had my heart broken.

  But it happens. I kiss him back, and soon we’re out of control.

  Dave

  “Maggie,” I whisper as I explore her curves. Her dress is light and moves with my hands. When I reach low and lift the bottom, I touch skin. This is my Magdalena. I move my lips to her cheek and kiss the little mole I’ve admired.

  “Hmm?” she murmurs as I work my way down her neck again. I feel the sound vibrate as I kiss her throat.

  “You.” I have no idea what I’m saying.

  She pulls away, and I open my eyes. “You,” she whispers back.

  I smile, she smiles, and I have to shut my eyes because I think I’m dreaming and don’t want to wake up. So I kiss her again. This time, I pull her close enough that every possible inch of us that can touch does. My hand grazes the edge of her dress, teasing her thigh. She moans my name, just like in my dream scenario.

  My hard-on presses against her, and if this is the dream coming true, I know what happens next. I don’t want to have sex with Maggie. Not yet. Not until I can be sure she wants me for more than a night. Not until I’m sure she won’t leave me in the morning.

  I pull away, catching my breath and running my hand through my hair, anything to calm myself down. “We have to get out of here.”

  Her eyes widen as she pants. “Huh?”

  “Yes,” I say, half-heartedly. “Out. I can’t. You’re so… kissing… lips.” I mess with my hair again and shift my weight.

  Maggie grabs my chin and makes me look at her. “Stay with me, rock star, okay? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I twist away, find my room key, and reach for her. “You’re perfect. We have to get out of here.”

  “No.” She crosses her arms. “Tell me why you’re freaking out.” Her pursed lips stretch into a grin. “I’ll put you in the dumpster if you don’t talk to me here.”

  I stare, licking my lips and tasting cherries. The back of my neck tingles, burns even, as I remember the feeling of her fingers stroking the skin. “We have to get somewhere public.”

  Maggie raises her eyebrows and tilts her head, studying me like I’m crazy. Maybe I am.

  I look down her body and want nothing more than to touch it again. I shake my head like I’m having a seizure to try to keep it clear. Keep it clean. My body and brain are on overload.

  Shutting my eyes, I search the words in my heart. “I’ve been thinking about this, about you, for so long that I know how I want this to play out. If I don’t get you, us, to somewhere public, I’m going to rush this. I wanted to take it slow. You said in the
hallway you don’t want a boyfriend, then here I am, all over you, and you feel better than anything I could have created in my head—”

  She grabs my arm, and I open my eyes.

  Then she leads me toward the bed.

  The bed. Maggie and a bed. Maggie and her soft skin under her short skirt and a bed. This is it. We’re going to do this.

  She jumps up on the bed and yells, “Let’s play Scrabble!”

  Now I’m the one confused. “Huh?”

  She points to the board I’d set up. “Scrabble. It’s a game with letters.”

  I scratch my head. “Yeah. Um—” Maybe I did dream the whole thing.

  She sweeps her hair back over her shoulders and straightens her dress. “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “We shouldn’t rush this.”

  “Oh.” I hear the disappointment in my voice.

  “Even though, I mean…wow. And there are only a few more weeks of school. With exams, your shore gigs, we may not have many opportunities—”

  She’s right. Stupid, stupid me. It’s now or never. “Yeah, maybe—”

  “No, no, no.” She holds up a hand to stop my words. “You’re right. We should keep it G-rated.”

  She scoots toward the headboard. Her dress slides across her legs, her hair falls over her shoulder. She’s fucking beautiful, and I’m an idiot. “Yes. G-rated. Right.”

  As if Magdalena Patrinski could be G-rated in any form or fashion.

  I turn to adjust my cargo shorts and calm my body down, and then I join her on the bed in the most innocent of ways.

  We sit on opposite ends of the Scrabble board, crossed-legged, and she holds the pouch of letters out to me. It’s meant to be normal. A normal game between friends. Between two people getting to know each other. But my mind spins, processing everything I just felt having her in my arms.

  I’m sure I’m in no condition to play Scrabble with Maggie sitting across from me, smiling with puffy lips and peeking at me with her shiny blue eyes. She folds her legs under her and rearranges her dress to gather between them. “Are you going to pick?”