Enforce

by Rachel Van Dyken

  By the time class ended, my mood was so dark I almost texted Mo again to see if we could meet later, but the minute I saw Trace walking slowly toward the dorm, I knew… I wanted to see her. Had to see her, because I was sick. Because for some reason I was obsessed with that dark hair of hers and her smile. It killed me because I'd never been so… curious.

  I took a shortcut through campus and made my way up to their room. A picture of a cow with her face on it was taped to her door. Huh. Original. The girls in that dorm really needed to up their game if they wanted to intimidate her. I highly doubted something like that would make a tough girl like Trace cry.

  Then again I would know.

  I was the one causing the tears.

  Shit.

  I slid my all access card across the door and let myself in then paused. Mo's bed… I usually sat on her bed, but Trace's was so tempting that I found my legs carrying me to the opposite end of the room.

  Everything was plain. From her white duvet to her bare walls. It was as if she didn't really have a life outside of going to school. Guilt gnawed because part of me wondered if the reason she 'hadn't put pictures on the walls was because she couldn't really afford anything.

  I thought of her grandma's shoes.

  And the boots Chase had given her.

  My gut sank lower and lower as I plopped onto her bed and lay down, closing my eyes as I imagined her tossing and turning against the sheets.

  Great. So now white duvets did it for me. I was getting so aroused it was pathetic. Her scent was on everything from her pillow to the damn air — I was saturated in her, and I wanted to stay that way for just a few seconds, because in those seconds, on her bed, I felt calm.

  Just as I was about to close my eyes, the door burst open. With a huff, Trace threw her bag onto the floor, peeled the shirt from her body, and tossed it on top of the book bag.

  Forget being aroused — I was gone, ready to rip the rest of the clothes from her body and slam her against the nearest wall and then take her on the desk. Then I'd run my tongue up and down her thighs until she was panting with--

  Holy hell, she reached for her zipper. Should I cough? Make a noise? My body demanded I stay as silent as the grave, but then I started thinking about that stupid ethics class, morals, being a good human being…

  Hell, just give me hell. I didn't want to be the angel. After all, I'd always been the opposite, so why change now?

  Her face was adorable, like she was angry at the skirt for being on her body in the first place. I let out a chuckle — totally by accident.

  Her hands froze. Trace glanced up, and her eyes went from shocked to horrified in seconds.

  I stayed put and yawned. "Please, don't let me interrupt. Continue."

  Eyes narrowing, she flipped me off. Damn if that wasn't an invitation. I laughed harder as she reached for the closest piece of clothing she had and threw it over her body.

  I laughed even harder when I noticed it bore a picture of a unicorn, and it was inside out. Flustered much? Damn, I wanted to taste the blush from her neck. Steal it and keep it for myself.

  "What do you want!" she snapped.

  "Not sex, but thanks for the offer." Total lie. I'd take sex, lots and lots of sex. With her.

  "I was not…" She took a few deep breaths and looked like she was counting to herself. "Why are you here?"

  "Waiting for my sister. What else?" Truth, though to be honest, I could have waited outside, but then I would have missed out on the show. What a crime.

  Her shoulders sagged with relief.

  "What? You disappointed I didn't want an afternoon screw?"

  "Not at all." She sat on Mo's bed. "Besides, if you needed one, all you'd have to do is knock on any door on this floor. Just be sure to use protection. I know how you are about germs."

  "Only yours," I sang then offered up a teasing wink.

  A pillow was launched in my face. I caught it mid-air and smiled.

  "Can you at least wait for her outside?"

  "Nope."

  "Why?" Her teeth ground together, and her blush deepened.

  I answered her as honestly as I could. "Because I like your bed. It's comfortable."

  "It has my germs, and I swear to you, I drooled all over my pillow last night."

  I hadn't taken the girl for a huffer, but she was doing a lot of that — huffing, looking away, crossing her arms — it was adorable. "I only hate germs on people, not objects." I glanced at my watch like she didn't make me want to strip naked and slam my mouth against hers. I put my hands behind my head, closing my eyes against the images playing in overdrive.

  "Why?" came her soft voice.

  "Why what, Farm Girl?"

  "Why don't you like people touching you? Is that your rule or an Elite thing?"

  I hadn't expected that question. All the things she could have asked, and she'd asked that? Something so personal, something so… embarrassing and horrifying that I immediately clammed up and wanted to reach for my gun.

  "You ask a lot of questions for someone so stupid."

  I hadn't meant to snap, but she'd pried too much. And the awful part? She made me want to tell her, she made me want her pity, and I never wanted pity. I never wanted love or affection, but the way she said things— Damn, I craved it. I wanted to cave. I wanted to fall onto the floor and tell her my secrets. She made me want to trust, and I trusted no one.

  "It is the only way to find out how to survive in this place." She sighed.

  "You'll survive — if you follow the rules. I thought I told you that." I propped up on my elbow, thankful for the subject change. This I could talk about. "The system works, Trace. I know you think I'm an asshole, but if I was nice, they would eat you alive. Wouldn't you rather I do the tasting?" I eyed her up and down and smirked.

  Her eyes flickered to my mouth. "Why can't everyone just be nice and get along?"

  Ah and sing "Kumbaya" around the Christmas tree? Yeah, just another reminder she didn't belong in my world, and I sure as hell didn't belong in hers. Where ponies shit rainbows and guns shot flowers. "Maybe I will wait outside."

  "You do that."

  I walked to the door and paused, thinking that if I alluded to what I was trying to do by being mean, she'd get it. "Has anyone made fun of you today?"

  "Is this a trick question?" she asked, jumping off Mo's bed. "You make fun of me all the time!"

  "Other than me." I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her by the shoulders. "Tell me the truth."

  "N-no," she stuttered. "No one made fun of me today."

  "I guess my point is made," I said softly.

  "The hell it is." Another pillow found its way into the air, aiming for my face "You think you have that much power? To protect me from them? You think you're that much better? That what you do is better than what typical college kids could do to me?"

  Did she just say hell? And why was I so turned on by it? "Care to make a wager?"

  "Fine!" And now she was poking me in the chest. The girl didn't stop, and if she poked one more time, she was going to have a hell of a problem on her hands, mainly me kissing the shit out of her. The poke, the simple touch, had my knees buckling.

  "Please don't touch me."

  She stopped.

  I sighed and leaned in. "I'll stop bothering you… but when I win — when you can't take it anymore — when you are living in hell every single day, I want to hear it from your lips. Not Monroe's. Not Chase's. I want you to approach me. I want you to tell me…"

  "Tell you what?" she whispered. Her mouth was so tempting… just a few more inches and I'd claim it.

  "…that you need me." What the hell?

  "When hell freezes over!" she snapped.

  Well, apparently our moment was over. "Bring a parka because life's a bitch, and you just bought a first-class ticket, sweetheart."

  I jerked open the door a bit too hard and left, sending Mo a text once I was safely on the elevator. I'd talk to her on the phone, but wai
ting in that room for ten more minutes would end in disaster because Trace wasn't one to just roll over and take things. No, she was a fighter, and it was so damn enticing I wasn't sure what to do with myself, how to handle her, or how I was going to survive the next semester without claiming her.

  Mo texted back right away.

  Mo: Please tell me you didn't off my roomie. I like her!

  Me: She's still breathing.

  Mo: So what's up?

  I hesitated, my hand hovering over the text. I could tell her about Tex later. Right now, I just wanted to forget everything that Trace made me remember. Like simple caresses, smiles, love, trust.

  Me: Party tonight.

  At least if they partied, I could go talk to my father and let him know Tex wanted a meeting. Mo would be at the party, happy as a clam. I wouldn't have to see Trace's face again, and I could remind myself why I was boss, why I was protecting my family. The only way to remind myself? See what an ass my father was and get a good dose of reality.

  Mo: REALLY?

  Me: Invite everyone. It will be at the usual. Free booze. I'll send Chase and Tex. Have fun.

  Mo: I like Tex.

  Me: Okay…

  Mo: Do you think Dad would… approve?

  Me: Dad isn't boss. I am. And I approve. Go get dressed, have fun. Will text later.

  Mo: ;)