by Lindsey Hart
“What, what? You’ve never had a good kiss?”
Alix’s lips quivered and her eyes narrowed a little further. Her nostrils flared. He’d just pissed her off, by restating that.
“No. For your information, I’m not a saint. I’ve been kissed. I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve done relationships. I’m twenty-two. I’ve been away for four years. I just- I want to know if it’s just me or maybe it was just them. I need to know.”
She looked shockingly and uncharacteristically lost in that moment. Uncertain. Like the little girl who used to run around the backyard with pig tails streaming out after her, demanding that they let her up into their tree fort.
“Okay, here are my conditions. One, the platonic thing is good. No feelings. No attachments. No falling in love.”
She snorted at that. “Why would I fall in love with you? God, I was right, you’re so high on yourself you’re floating off the ground.”
“Anyway, it’s a condition all the same. Just what you said, I’m just clarifying. Condition two is that we go back to being civil after this, even if you aren’t satisfied with said make out session or kiss or whatever you classify as second base. For the sake of our families. You’re back. I’m not leaving. We have to agree to be civil and put the past in the past.” He let out a deep breath. He wasn’t much for talking- mostly because in his experience, time spent with women wasn’t about filling it up with words. He had other things to keep his tongue busy with. This was probably the most he’d said to anyone in months. “Condition three expands on what you said. That no one finds out. As far as they know, you’re back. You’re happy to be back. You’re happy to be back even though I’m around. You’re happy all around. Got it?”
“I have another one,” Alix interjected, because of course she would. Having the last word was paramount in her world.
“I can’t wait to hear it,” he informed her dryly. It was like saying he wished she’d take a vow of silence and move the hell on and not be a childish diva about something that happened four fucking years ago and the way her lips pursed told him that she knew it.
“I want you to stop being an asshole all the time. That’s the conditions of the truce. If you don’t agree to them, then it’s back to hating you. I’ll make sure our families know that I can’t stand to be in the same room with you. It would really distress our parents, but worst of all, they’d think you did something terrible to cause it. They’d constantly be hounding you trying to figure out what it was, and I doubt they’d believe you when you say you have no idea, or that it was nothing. They’d want you to fix things, but here’s the kicker. I’d make sure you never could, because… well- you never can.”
Her voice was all sugar sweetness, but it was like putting icing on a cake made of rotting garbage. All nice on the outside until you cut into it and found it crawling with maggots.
“Jesus. You really turned into a frigid bitch, Alix Bear. If I had known at the time that you’d end up like this, I would have taken you in my car and fucked you right into next year like you asked me to. Then you’d really have a reason to hate me, because I would have ruined you for every other guy after.”
She flipped him off. He laughed. He loved seeing her rattled. He loved getting under her skin. They only threw words like that, back and forth at each other, too honest and too open, they were only terrible to each other because they’d grown up together. He and Chance had been friends since they were in diapers. Alix Bear was always just there and he knew that in her world, so were he and Chance.
If anyone could give her a hard time, he had a right. He also had a right to some fucking peace for a change and he was going to get it from her, even if she was still an immature little princess who needed his tongue down her throat to make her feel good enough about herself to move on, detach the stick shoved up her pretty, tight little ass, and get the hell on with it.
Alix spat into her palm. She held out her hand and waited.
He did the same, with the hand that wasn’t currently holding a blood-soaked towel to his head. He held it out.
She stalked forward, all cold confidence again, and smacked his palm with hers, so briefly, that he barely had time to feel the heat of her touch. Still, his cock twitched and something inside his chest tugged. His lungs burned, but then again, they were also filled up with pool water and strange chemicals, so maybe that was to be expected.
“Now,” Alix sassed him, as she reached for the first aid kit. “Let me see about that cut.”
He had a feeling, truce or no truce, conditions or no conditions, deal or not, she wasn’t going to be gentle.
CHAPTER 5
Alix
Making a deal with Ross was like making a deal with the devil. She couldn’t go back on it and save face. She’d stood there and demanded that he kiss her. Gave him conditions and accepted his. Spat on her palm and joined it with his.
That was three days ago. Ross hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, and hadn’t stopped by.
She’d slept terribly since then. She’d barely eaten anything. She’d spent most of her time in her room, even when her parents actually tried to engage her to go for a walk or play a board game, watch TV, go to some show… the usual. She turned them down.
She was a mess. She wanted to take back that crazy truce, jam it so far down her throat that it got trapped in her stomach and got digested out like the shit it was. What the hell had she been thinking?
Ross probably thought she was crazy. That she was trapped in the past. That there was something seriously wrong with her that she hadn’t moved on. That she held a childish grudge. He’d always called her a diva. She’d acted like one, so she probably deserved the title. She’d always worn it like a badge of secret honor, that he’d noticed her enough to give her a nickname of shorts, even if it wasn’t complimentary.
She picked up her phone a thousand times to text him. To tell him it was off. That she forgave him. That she was out of sorts and seeing him again brought out the worst in her because she freaking cared. He was the only one. He’d always been the only one. And he’d never given her a second glance. She’d hoped she could meet someone and get over him. Forget. Reinvent herself into a version that was condiment and sexy and didn’t give a shit about Ross Rivers.
Yeah. That hadn’t happened.
She’d returned home the same pathetic, lost little girl that she’d left. The same one who had a few slivers of a heart left and those slivers, each and every single one, were owned by Ross. He could break her, smash her, or make her fly with a single glance.
She’d wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt her. She’d never got over it. Was it childish? Probably. Pathetic? Hell yeah. Had she stooped about as low as the lowest of the low in basically blackmailing him to kiss her? Absolutely. Did she regret it? Yes, with a big, shiny cherry on top. In reality, would she go back and make all the same demands now that she finally had him backed into a corner and he owed her for saving his life? Yes. Yes, she would. That was probably the most pathetic part of it all.
Ross was always her weakness. She’d never been logical where he was concerned.
Then again, most beings with a va-jay weren’t either, so maybe there wasn’t anything so special about her.
Alix had nearly talked herself out of having anything to do with Ross Rivers. She was going to text him and tell him that it was off. They could be civil to each other without the crazy deal. She never should have said anything like that in the first place. It was a combination of being in shock that he could have drowned, combined with a heck of a lot of jetlag, some green-eyed monster jealously over the welcome home party not even being about her, and a healthy dose of not being over the past. It was a recipe for something shitty. A sure-fire disaster.
She was actually reaching for her phone to make the text, to tell Ross she was overtired and in a state of shock two nights ago, to tell him to disregard everything she said, there was a very good chance that he wasn’t the only one with a head injury. That she’d move
on and they could be friendly towards each other for everyone else’s sake, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Alix really hoped it was a message from her ex-roommate, Penny. She lived in New Jersey but stayed in a dorm since she wanted to get away from living at home. Like dorm life was so much better. She actually enjoyed it and Alix admitted that if it wasn’t for her bubbly, red headed roommate, she probably would have gone insane well before she actually graduated.
Her stomach churned and her heart kicked into overdrive when she read the text.
Coming over in ten. Be ready. You’re about to get the authentic Ross Rivers experience that you asked for.
Panic soaked through her bloodstream and fizzled in her veins. She hurriedly typed back a reply.
Are you fucking crazy? No! My parents are actually home. So is Chance. No one finds out, remember?
What she should have said was, no. No, I changed my mind. The whole thing was a joke to see how pathetic you really were. That was my revenge ploy. My whole angle. It’s off. It’s so off. I would never stoop so low to put your dirty mouth anywhere near mine- I don’t want a trip to the STD clinic anytime soon.
Her phone dinged a minute later.
Relax. I’m taking you out.
She rolled her eyes at herself because she found herself typing a message that wasn’t along the lines of, please fudge off for life.
Because that’s not at all suspicious.
This was your idea, remember? Trying to cop out already? I never took you for a coward.
Alix scowled at her phone. That was just Ross being Ross, trying to get under her skin. He was a dick at best. That’s all he knew in his life was his dick. She’d once overheard him telling Chance that he had a weird dream about his penis when he was around twelve. She’d been eight at the time and was definitely not supposed to overhear that conversation, but they’d been in the kitchen. She was going in to get a drink and heard them talking and stopped around the corner. Chance said that wasn’t weird. He sometimes dreamed about things with his penis too.
The funny and not ha-ha thing about all of that was that boys seemed to obsess about their penises when they were little, innocently, but then, around a decade later, the obsession came back, not innocently, and never left.
Of course, she took the bait. She couldn’t help herself.
I’m no coward. I haven’t changed my mind. You’re not getting off that easy. I expect a nice date before this goes down. Not something half-ass.
Less than a minute went by and her phone dinged.
I thought you said you wanted the authentic experience.
She grimaced. It was beyond her why she’d ever had a crush on Ross. He wasn’t even that nice at least not to anyone who wasn’t Chance or one of his other stupid friends. He was funny, or at least, witty bordering on smart ass. He was insanely good looking, so flipping gorgeous that it actually burned her eyes to look at him. He wasn’t a gentleman. He forgot his date’s names. His version of romance was probably rolling up to some fast food joint, even though he was rich, and the expectation that his date would pay with sexual favors later- ones that he benefited from. He could be charming when he wanted to be, like with his parents, or hers, but she’d rarely seen him act that way in front of anyone else.
Knowing that, it was even more maddening that she couldn’t erase him from her mind. He’d been in her life for as long as she could remember. She decided that was the heart of the problem. She’d had a crush on him for so long, for six years before she even asked him to go to prom with her. It wasn’t something she could just get over, no matter how hard she tried.
It was like trying to forget about wanting to taste a banana if you’d never tasted one. It would haunt you for life. Not bananas. That’s a bad analogy. Bread. Chocolate. Chicken. Not bananas.
Hello? I’m five minutes away. Tell your parents that you’re going for a walk or out with a friend and get your hind end down the block. In front of the Mathesons’. I’ll be there in five.
She texted back the hand giving the middle finger emoji.
He texted back with the poop emoji.
Alix threw her phone in her purse and peeled herself off the bed with a disgusted sigh. She looked like a wreck. No makeup. She had on a pair of faded jeans and a red tan top with the white outline of a cathead that said “Overly Normal Cat Lady” across the bottom, even though she didn’t own any cats. It belonged to Penny, but she’d given it to her since she didn’t wear it anymore. It was cropped, the kind of thing that showed off just the barest hint of her abs where her high waisted skinny jeans ended. Penny actually did have seven cats at home. Well, her parents did.
Alix stalked over to her dresser. It was child sized, like the rest of the furniture in the room. It was also outdated, but it had a big mirror. She stood in front of it, checking herself out, pretending like she wasn’t. She purposely didn’t put on any makeup. She ran her fingers through her long hair to brush out the snarls. Her huge hazel eyes started back at her.
For having dark hair, she had surprisingly fair skin. She always had to wear a butt ton of sunscreen to keep from burning. She blinked. Her eyes were fine. Her skin was flawless and creamy, and she’d managed not to burn since she’d been back. Her lips were alright sans lipstick or anything fussy. She’d washed her hair the night before, so it was both impossible to style and gleamingly glossy and soft looking. She flipped it over her shoulder, shook her head at herself, grabbed her brown leather messenger bag off the floor, and slipped into her red canvas high tops. She laced them quickly and made a fast exit out of her room.
She pretty much ran straight to the front door. “Bye,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Just going out with a friend for a couple of hours shopping. I’ll be back later.”
Her mom called something from deeper in the house, but she didn’t stick around to hear what it was. She disappeared out the door before Chance could appear and give her grief about the way her cheeks were flushed red. She figured he’d know just by looking at her face that something was off. If he asked her a single question, she’d probably cave, and she couldn’t stand him making fun of her.
Alix’s long strides ate up the front lawn and the three blocks to the Mathesons’. Sure as shit, Ross’s red sports car, a new one- not the same one he’d had in high school, but still red, sporty, imported, and expensive, was parked on the street.
One wavering inhale later and she stood right in front of the car. Ross flashed her his usual shit-eating smirk that she’d like to rub off his face with her fist. He turned his head and it was amazing to see that the cut there was pretty much invisible under his gorgeously mussed mahogany hair. She’d been right. It was just a small thing and didn’t require stitches, but it bled furiously. She’d also been the one to bandage it, and the rest of his thick skull and send him off to his den of iniquity, or wherever he crawled back to at the end of the night.
“You are going to stand out there all night, Alix Bear, or are you going to get in?”
“I’ll get in,” she hissed. “Don’t call me Alix Bear again. That’s for everyone else. Not for you.”
“What should I call you then?”
“Nothing. You don’t get to call me anything.”
“Alright, Nothing, are you going to get in? I have to get my dad at nine and it’s already six. If you want to get to second base, that leaves us only a few hours.”
“I said the authentic experience,” she snapped as she wrenched the car door open. She scraped the bottom edge of it along the sidewalk completely by accident, since the stupid thing was so low. Ross winced but said nothing.
No doubt he thought she’d done it on purpose and didn’t want to let her one up him by getting mad when he could easily afford to have the whole fricking car repainted eighty different times, eighty different shades if he wanted to.
“That is the authentic experience,” he confirmed, after she slid her seat belt in place. He stared at her stupidly. “You said second base. How the he
ll long do you think it takes to get there?”
“I pity the poor women that ever thought they’d get something out of dating you. You’re about as dense as a brick and as useful as a butt crack in the middle of the face.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is a butthead,” Ross clarified as he peeled the car away from the sidewalk.
“Yeah. You’re a butthead. The worst kind. No wonder every single girl you’re with dumps you. I don’t know what they see in you.”
“The same thing you do, apparently.”
“I’m different,” Alix hissed, with all the grace of a rabid squirrel. Not that she’d ever seen a rabid squirrel before, but she didn’t think it would be pretty. “This is about revenge.”
“Really? Trying to do the right thing requires revenge.”
“You didn’t do it for the right reasons. You’re no white knight in shining armor. You were just too lazy. You probably had better things to do like sleep.” You broke my heart. That’s the revenge.
“You sure you’re not just trying to make me pay for being an asshole like Chance was for all those years?”
“That too. He’s my brother, though. He gets a pass. You had no excuse.”
Ross shrugged as he narrowly avoided swiping a car right off the road. He drove like he went through life. Like a complete asshole. “You have a funny way of doing it. I don’t know what kind of make out sessions you’ve had and what kind of second base you’ve got to, but in my experience, it’s not a punishment.”
“Yes, but you don’t want to make out with me. You find me gross. That’s the punishment.” She wanted to lean over and smack him just for existing. For being so damn irresistible. For driving her, and the rest of female kind, crazy for years.
He shrugged. “Whatever sinks your ship.”