by Amy L. Gale
“Aren’t you used to being in the spotlight from all those years of dance team?” Lexie leans against the stage next to me.
I nod. “I wasn’t expecting to put on a show tonight.”
“I know someone who enjoyed that show.” She nudges my elbow.
I roll my eyes and fan my face with my hand. “I need a drink.”
We turn sideways and slide through the crowd, getting pushed and elbowed on the way. A small area opens near the bar. A multitude of people line up, waiting for drinks.
“We’ll never get a drink. The line’s is at least three people deep.” Lexie tries to squirm her way to the bar.
“I got this.” After living in Regal Hall last semester with a room that wasn’t much bigger than my closet at home, I can fit into more places than an octopus.
I slither around a scantily clad brunette and peek my head between the shoulders of two blondes wearing four-inch heels. Ah, it’s not that bad. I move sideways, parallel to the bar and spot a guy in a baseball cap, taking his drink and moving to his table. Time to strike while the iron is hot. I lunge forward, grazing two people on my way and press my hands against the cool, hard, wooden bar.
A man next to me slurs his speech as he tries to order another drink. Jeez, he has one in his hand and he’s hogging the bartender. Unbelievable. I pull a five-dollar bill from my pocket and place it on the bar. The bartender spots me, and comes to my aid.
“Wait your turn,” the man slurs, spilling his beer all over my white shirt. His nostrils flare and his eyes protrude.
Crap. I find the place at the bar containing the mean drunk. “Sorry.” I shrug.
“That’s not good enough!” he screams and points his finger in my face.
I hold up my hands. “I can buy you another drink.”
He shakes his head and pushes me hard, knocking me into the crowd. “You little bitches think you can do anything you want.”
I crash into a high-top bar table. Pain radiates across my back. My arms tremble and my legs become weak. Does this guy seriously want to fight me? My stomach turns rock-hard and my chest tightens. He charges forward. I close my eyes and brace myself for the next blow.
Footsteps pound the wooden floor, resonating through the noisy crowd. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead and my lips tremble as I wait for the blow from the drunken man’s body. I open my eyes just as Dean jumps in front of me, his hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles turn white.
“Come on, asshole.” Dean steps forward and smacks his hands against the man, pushing him hard and sending him flying backwards into the line of people at the bar. “What’s the matter, you only fight girls?”
The crowd of people dissipates to the sides, forming an open space for Dean and the drunk to fight. I suck in a deep breath and grip the edge of the table.
The man shakes his head and marches forward, an evil sneer gracing his face. He throws a punch at Dean. Dean ducks to the side, sending the man wobbling and struggling to keep his balance. Dean grips his fist tighter and throws an uppercut to his stomach. The man bends over, gasping for breath.
“Hell, no. You don’t get away that easy.” Dean grabs the back of the man’s hair with one hand, pulls up his head, and punches him hard in the face with the other hand.
The man’s face jerks to the side, some spit and blood fly out. Dean grabs him by his red and white flannel shirt, shaking him. “No one ever touches her. Got it?” Dean says through gritted teeth.
The man’s head wobbles from side to side and his eyes roll to the back of his head.
Lexie and Tom break through the crowd and run up to me. “Are you okay?” Lexie gives me a hug.
I nod.
Tom pulls Dean off the man, just as the bartender steps up to them. “Am I going to need to call the police?” he asks.
Tom holds up his hands. “No sir, we’re leaving.”
Dean runs his hands through his hair, and grips the back of his neck. I stare at the peaks and valleys of his biceps, bursting through his skin as he moves. My heart beats in my ears as hot lava flows through my veins. Dean brings his hands down and glances at his knuckles, the skin broken and tinged with blood.
Dear god, he’s never looked sexier. My brain shuts down and every ounce of willpower keeping me away from him disappears. Every doubt, every fear, instantly fades as if it never existed. I lunge forward and slam my lips into his, weaving my fingers in the back of his hair. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his body. A roar of clapping erupts throughout the bar, growing faint as I lose myself in this perfect moment.
CHAPTER 6—HANDCUFF PARTY?
I close my physics book and turn toward Dean. “Let me get this straight. Not only do you want me to come to a frat party, but you want me to be handcuffed to you the whole time?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. I get it, it sounds crazy.”
“Um, just a little.” I crinkle my eyebrows and tap my pen against the table of the library.
“I’m kinda running the party.” He bounces his knee.
Great. Despite my immense hatred for all things frat related, there’s no way in hell I’m letting some other girl be handcuffed to Dean all night. Looks like I’ve got to suck it up. I sigh heavily and tap my foot. “Fine, but find me something non-alcoholic to drink so we don’t have a repeat of last time.”
He raises his right hand. “You got it. And I promise, nothing kinky with the handcuffs.”
“Then never mind.” I blush.
“Be careful what you wish for.” He winks.
“Shhh.” A girl across from us shoots us a dirty look and points at the Keep Quiet sign hung on the library wall near the bookshelf.
I chuckle. Maybe moving our physics study sessions to the library wasn’t the best idea. “Guess we better get out of here before she has us handcuffed.” I hold up my wrists.
Hmm. So what does one wear to a party where the main focus is to be handcuffed to another person? The silver rod screeches as the hangers slide along the metal at Mach speed. Everything’s different now. Does he expect me to stay? I nibble at my fingernails. Not sure I’m ready for that yet. No need to relive my senior year of high school. I’m still getting used to the idea I’m actually dating…a party guy. I grimace at the words running through my mind.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Okay, time to focus. I glide my fingers along the fabric of at least fifty articles of clothing and stop at my navy V-neck fitted shirt I usually save for the bar. I pull down my plastic tote of Halloween costumes from the top shelf of my closet and take the sheriff pin off my sexy cop costume from last year. Perfect. I’m bound to see a plethora of half-naked girls dressed as cops or criminals. I affix the shiny silver pin to my shirt and grab a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans along with my black high-heeled ankle boots.
Lexie peeks her head into the doorway. “Ready for tonight?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I slide on my jeans and pull my shirt over my head.
She walks inside my room and plops on my bed. “Sheriff, nice.” She gives me a thumbs-up.
“You wearing that?” I glance at her sweat pants and oversized T-shirt.
“Yeah, I’m pretending I was arrested at a twenty-four hour department store.”
“Hmm, some slippers and you can pull it off.” I smirk.
She throws a pillow at me. “I’m thinking tights and a sweater dress.” She scoots up on my bed and sits Indian style. “So you finally gave in to the dark side. And all it took was free tutoring, a non-date, and a bar fight.”
I smear on some candy-apple red lip-gloss and smack my lips together. “I like to play hard to get.” I wink.
She shakes her head and hops off the bed. “For the record, I think this is going to be an awesome semester for us.”
I give my hair a few final touch-ups. “Yeah, first I get drugged, now I’ll be in handcuffs. Can’t wait to see what’s in store for me next.”
She leans against the doorway. “FYI,
never ask that question.” She disappears down the hall.
I apply some black mascara and stand back, staring in the mirror. My eyes sweep over my navy V-neck clinging to my body with the shiny silver badge pinned above my right breast. Why do I feel like I just regressed back to the days of careless partying and hooking up with god knows who? My heart flutters. I take a few steps back and sit on the edge of my bed. There’s no way I’m turning into that girl again.
A soft knocking pulls me out of my thoughts as Lexie taps on the door frame. She tips her head and scrunches her eyebrows. “You okay?” She comes over and joins me on the bed.
I nod. “Yep, just thinking of everything I need for tonight.”
Lexie pulls me into a side hug. “I think that outfit will cover all your bases.”
I look down at my V-neck. Maybe it is a little deep.
Lexie stands and looks me up and down. “Where’s the sheriff? I think someone needs to be arrested for indecent exposure.” She laughs.
I cross my arms over my chest. Dammit, that makes it worse. I shoot her a death glare.
She takes a step back and puts her hands on her hips. “So, what do you think?” She twirls around, showing off her purple sweater dress and black tights.”
I rub my chin. “I think I may be walking home alone. Tom won’t need the handcuffs to be stuck to your side tonight.”
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll be walking home together in the morning.” She raises her eyebrows and twirls her hair around her finger.
Not sure I’m ready for that yet. I mean, sure I’ve been with more guys then I care to remember but Dean is just…different. I guess I’ll just play it by ear.
Lexie nibbles on her fingernails. “Oh crap. What if I’m handcuffed to someone else? It’s all random, right?”
I stand up and grab my purse from my dresser. “The sheriff can help you out.” I flash my badge and swing my purse around my shoulder. Never in a million years would I let my best friend be handcuffed to some random loser while the guy she likes is handcuffed to another girl.
Time to head to the frat house—something I said I’d never do again. What other promises will I break tonight?
I slam the door, sending a gust of frigid air through the foyer. Dean adjusts his oversized sunglasses, which makes him look like Ponch from CHiPs, and slides them up onto his head. Well, a much hotter, sexier version. I stare at his muscles moving underneath his fitted T-shirt. He fidgets with the door lock and snaps the deadbolt shut.
Dean rubs his hands together and joins me at the ‘arraignment table’. He grabs the megaphone from under the table and stands on his chair. “Rules are as follows: babes write their name on a pink slip of paper, dudes on a blue piece. Hand them over to Sheriff Brooke and we’ll get this party started.” He jumps down, tossing the megaphone to the side and pulls out a tote of handcuffs.
A mob of people rush toward the table, setting their drinks aside to write their names on the small slips of paper. I lunge backward, pushing myself against the back of my chair to avoid being mauled to death in the struggle to grab a pen. Seriously? These people are like crazed lunatics. Don’t they realize they may be signing up for a night of hell? I mean, what if they’re tethered to someone they despise?
I slide two large, empty industrial mayonnaise jugs Dean managed to snag from the cafeteria toward the edge of the table, placing one by the blue slips of paper and one by the pink slips. “Drop your papers in the jugs when you’re done.”
Tanya Layton folds her pink slip of paper in half and sets her elbows on the table. She leans in front of Dean, holding her arms tight to her body to push her cleavage in his face. Her breasts are about to pop out of the scoop neck of her low cut red shirt.
“Hope I get cuffed to you.” She blows Dean a kiss.
I clench my fists and jump out of my chair. Who the hell does she think she is? I mean, hello, I’m right here. Maybe she can work her magic on Dr. Jenners but her little miss sultry routine isn’t going to work this time.
I place my palms on the table and lean toward her. My nostrils flare as I speak. “The sheriff will do the pairing tonight.” I lean back and flash my badge toward her.
She huffs and waves her hand. “Whatever.”
Dean runs his tongue along his lips, muffling a smile. “The sheriff is pretty bad-ass.”
I slide back into my chair and turn toward Dean. “Think of Fargo. You know, minus the pregnant.”
“Nice…and a little scary.” He winks.
The crowd dissipates, leaving a few people who quickly pop their names in the jars. Looks like we’re ready to go. I grab a piece of blue paper and a piece of pink paper and scribble our names on them.
I fold the papers in half and turn toward Dean. “Looks like we’ve got our first set of victims.”
He places a finger on each piece of paper and slides them along the table in front of him. His lips upturn into a small smile as his eyes glance across the letters. “Awesome, my partner in crime.” He grabs a set of the novelty handcuffs and clips one cuff to his wrist.
He reaches for my hand and slowly grazes his fingertips along my wrist. My heart pounds against my chest like a jackhammer. He clicks the cuff shut, making sure it’s not too tight. Perfect fit. He turns toward me and we stand face to face. His eyes lock onto mine and I’m lost in the sea of deep blue. The world fades away for split second and nothing else exists, it’s just me and Dean.
“Who’s next?” a guy yells through the room.
I jerk my head and blink repeatedly, pulling myself back into reality. Dean and I both reach for a bucket in opposite directions with our free hands. The handcuffs pull us back toward each other. I lose my balance from the force and slam into Dean’s arm.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Never better.”
I hand Dean the two slips of paper I’ve confiscated and held in my pocket. He bends down and picks up the megaphone. “Tom Johnson and Lexie Waters.”
I pull the tote of handcuffs onto the table with my free hand. Thank god the same key opens all the cuffs. If not, there’d be no guarantees of finding the right one after hours of drinking. Dean and I work together with our cuffed hand and clip the handcuffs onto Lexie and Tom.
“Thanks, sheriff.” Lexie winks at me.
“My job is to uphold justice, ma’am.” I wave as she and Tom walk away into the kitchen.
We go through the entire bucket of names and handcuff everyone together. Ah, Tanya Layton. I hand the slip of paper to Dean and lean over to see who her man is for the night. I scan the letters written in black ink. Huh, Randy Andrews. Good luck dealing with the ten gallons of cologne he uses to cover the smell of pot clinging to every article of clothing he wears. A sinister smile graces my face.
“Your sentence lasts until 2 a.m. Beer Pong tournament in an hour.” He drops the megaphone and tugs at our cuffs. He moves his wrist around the cuff and holds my hand. “Want a drink?”
I tilt my head and look up at him. “Hell no.”
He walks around the table, guiding me with him. “Don’t worry, your wingman has you covered.” We walk along the dingy green carpet, swaying between the crowd of cuffed couples to the kitchen. He pulls open the refrigerator door and hands me a can of diet cola.
I take the cool can and lean in closer to Dean. “Super Dean to the rescue.” I give him a quick peck on the cheek.
His cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “All in a day’s work.”
He grabs a plastic cup and we make our way to the keg. I set down my soda and push the button on the tap. This whole party is almost a weird experiment on teamwork in a social setting. Someone should write their thesis on handcuff parties.
We take our drinks and head to the study off the kitchen where he saved me from a drunken loser the first time we met. We plop down on an empty space of the burgundy couch. I sink into the cushion and peruse the Ping-Pong table set up with small white balls and a multitude of red plastic cups. Guess the tournament takes place here.
Dean sips his beer. “Best sheriff in all of Lakeview.”
I chuckle. “All in a day’s work.” I sip my diet cola and set the can on small table next to me.
Dean plucks his sunglasses off his head and tosses them on the table. “Everyone may try to escape when Tom starts the speeches.”
“Huh? There’s speeches at these parties?” I rub my chin.
“Sad but true. Tom has to give this speech on how Beta Omega coined the term handcuff party. He’s in charge until our Prez, Jesse, gets back next semester.” He reaches for his beer and takes a sip. “It’s all bullshit. Every fraternity says they created beer pong, and toga parties, and handcuff parties.”
Great. Maybe this is why they don’t serve non-alcoholic drinks at these parties. “I could always call in and say you kidnapped me.”
“Not sure the scholarship board will like that one.”
I look down at the rough scabs on his knuckles. My stomach hardens. The scholarship committee probably wouldn’t be too thrilled with Dean getting into bar fights either. Thank god no one pressed charges. Ugh, what would’ve happened if he wasn’t there? My chest tightens. I still can’t believe he risked getting kicked off the team for me. Looks like I’ll have to get extremely creative to make it up to him.
“Did you always love baseball?”
He grabs his cup of beer. “Ever since I could walk. Plus there’s not a hell of a lot to do in Iowa, mostly farms.”
Yeah, I know the feeling. “There’s got to be some excitement.”
He shrugs. “John Wayne was from Iowa.” He lowers his eyes and purses his lips. “A man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
I let out a short burst of laughter, almost spitting on Dean. “You sure acting isn’t your calling?”
“Ever notice my close shave?”
Just about every time I look at you. “Yeah.”
He raises his eyebrows. “In Iowa, it’s illegal for a mustached man to kiss a woman in public.” He raises his right hand. “Hand to god.”
I laugh and sip my diet cola. “Sounds like my kind of place.”