Taylor was staring at me, waiting for me to take a bite. I put the awfulness up to my lips and nearly gagged at the smell of it. I threw it back down on the table.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said and she looked uncomfortable. I had to quickly back-peddle.
“Do you like your wrap?” I asked.
She gave me a little half smile. “I love it.”
“Then that’s all that matters. Look at me. Do I look like I’m going to starve?”
That got me a laugh and I was back in the game.
“Not at all,” she said. “Try the smoothie. Everyone loves their smoothies.”
I took a sip of the tall drink. It was a little too sweet but at least I could get it down. I nodded my approval and that seemed to satisfy her because she went back to devouring her wrap.
I’m not sure why I said it but the words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Kyle stopped by before you got here.”
She stopped eating mid-bite and looked at me. “He did?” She sounded surprised and not too happy about it.
I nodded. “I don’t think he likes me very much.”
Taylor put down her wrap. “He’s my best friend and he’s protective. He doesn’t want me to get hurt again.”
Hurt again? She had mentioned something like that at the bar. I wondered who the asshole was that hurt her so badly and what he did to her.
Whatever it was, I wanted to be the one to protect her, not Kyle. What could he do anyway? If it came right down to it, how was that skinny little pie-face going to keep her safe?
And that little puke was not her friend. He wanted the same thing that every other guy wanted. He just didn’t have the balls to seal the deal.
“You really think Kyle’s your friend?” I asked although my tone didn’t really make it sound like a question. I knew I only wanted to make a point.
“Of course I do.”
I laughed. Not a small one either, a full belly laugh.
She furrowed her brow, puzzled. “What’s so funny?”
“That guy is not your friend. That guy wants to get into your pants; it’s as simple as that.”
She looked like I had just slapped her. “Kyle has been my best friend for the past three years.”
I shook my head. “No, Kyle has been trying to get you in bed for the past three years. He just hasn’t been able to score a goal.”
Her jaw dropped open and no words came out. I think I completely stunned her. But I also wondered if I had made a big mistake. I had been playing the game well but now I was in danger of getting thrown into the penalty box.
“You don’t know anything about Kyle,” she snapped.
“He’s not gay, is he?” I countered.
“No.” She said it in a way that made it sound like my question was ridiculous and that made me mad.
“Then he wants to get into your pants,” I stated. “Straight guys are not friends with girls. Especially girls as smoking hot as you. He’s with you for one reason. He wants you. He’s just waiting for the right moment to make his move.”
“It’s not like that,” Taylor insisted. “He knows I don’t like him that way.”
“I know what’s going on in Kyle’s mind. He thinks if he does enough for you, if you depend on him, you’ll eventually like him that way.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, you’re wrong.”
“Why?”
“He listens to me. He really understands me.”
Now I was the one shaking my head. She really didn’t get it. “You think he’s listening to you. What he’s really doing is thinking of all the ways he wants to fuck you when he has the chance.”
She glared at me. I could see she was seething and I was getting completely turned on. My mind knew it was the wrong reaction but apparently it forgot to tell my dick.
“I think you’re just projecting your feelings on to him,” she spat.
“You’re right, Princess. I do think about all the ways I want you. And I think about it a lot. But I assure you, I’m not the only one. Any guy who spends more than five minutes with you will be having the same thoughts.”
“Oh, and you speak for all guys now?”
“No, I only speak for myself but I know how guys are and I know how they think.”
I think I rendered her speechless. Her mouth was open but no words came out. Oh, what I would love to do with that beautiful mouth of hers…
I leaned my head on my hands and stared into her eyes. “Have you really gone three years without having sex?”
I could see her pearly white skin turn sunburned red with embarrassment. “Why would you even ask that question?”
“Because I know the minute you start seriously dating someone, as in doing the nasty, your friend Kyle will be gone.”
“He will not,” she insisted.
“Wanna bet?”
She thought about it for a minute. “I think you’re wrong.”
“Just wait and see what happens when you and I hook up.”
She rolled her eyes at me. I normally hated it when girls did that but when Taylor did it, it was kind of cute. “I am not hooking up with you. Not now. Not ever.”
I raised my eyebrows in mock horror. “Not ever? Wow. Are you sure about that?”
I knew I was starting to sound cocky and arrogant but this girl brought everything out of me: the good, the bad and the ugly.
When Taylor stood up, I realized I may have pushed her a little too far. I’d just lost control of the puck and I needed to do some fancy stick handling to get control of it again.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing here. We have absolutely nothing in common and we’re not even each other’s type.”
“I never said you weren’t my type,” I replied quickly. Maybe a bit too quickly.
She looked stunned. “I just assumed—”
“Yeah, well, don’t.” I could feel myself getting angry but I knew it was because she said I wasn’t her type. “And just what is your type,” I fumed. “Kyle? You want some pussy that follows you around and does whatever you say. If that’s the case, you’re right. I’m definitely not your type.”
Now I stood up to leave.
“I never said Kyle was my type.” She sounded just as angry as I was and it was making me hard. I slipped my hands into the pockets of my jeans to keep my growing erection in check.
We glared at each other and the energy between us ignited. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to grab her and kiss her again. At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than Taylor Thompson. I just wasn’t sure if she wanted me. I had the feeling I probably topped the list of things she didn’t want. I wanted to punch myself in the face for coming across as a self-righteous and egotistical jock, especially when she already told me she wasn’t keen on dating athletes.
“I have to get to class,” Taylor said. “I don’t want to be late.”
“I’ll walk you,” I stated. It wasn’t a question because I didn’t want to give her the chance to shoot me down.
She gave an exasperated sigh and grabbed what remained of her food from the table. Then she turned and headed for the exit.
I grabbed the tray and quickly followed her. We both disposed of our garbage although mine ended up being the majority of the rabbit food I’d ordered.
She didn’t even slow down as she bolted out the door. The girl was quick on her feet when she wanted to be because it took a few moments for me to catch up to her.
“What class do you have?” I asked as I finally kept pace with her.
She turned to face me. “Why do you care?”
“Just curious what you’ll be doing for the next few hours when you’re not thinking about me.”
“And what makes you think I’ll be thinking about you? Other than the fact that you’re an egotistical jock?”
She was walking so fast, I was actually starting to feel it in my lungs but it didn’t seem to faze her a bi
t. “I saw the way you looked at me after we kissed. You can’t deny you felt something.”
She turned her head away and concentrated on the path in front of her. We walked in silence except for my heavy breathing. When we got to a small building marked Psychology, I figured we had arrived.
She paused and I stopped next to her. When she turned and looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes, my heart sang a few bars.
“You’re not going to follow me into the lab are you?” she asked.
“Not unless you want me to.” I tried to give her my most charismatic smile. It was the one I used to successfully seduce a number of puck bunnies.
“I don’t,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think this is going to work.”
“What?” I asked feigning innocence.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Us. This. Whatever this is.”
I closed the distance between us and I could see a shiver run through her. When she looked up at me again, she gulped.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, not taking my eyes off of her.
She shook her head.
“That’s what I thought.” Our eyes locked and the energy that was exchanged between us was so overpowering, it almost knocked all 6-feet 2-inches 210 pounds of me to my knees.
When I leaned in, I thought she might try to back away but she didn’t, so I placed a soft kiss on her lips.
Imagine my surprise when she kissed me back. When we parted, she licked her lips and I wanted to kiss her again.
I also wanted to take her into my arms and carry her to my apartment and make love to her all fucking afternoon.
“I’d better get to class,” she said but made no motion to leave.
“I don’t want you to be late,” I replied.
She just kept looking at me with her magnificent brown eyes.
“This,” I said finally. “Us. It’s going to happen.”
Without another word, she stretched up on her toes and placed a light kiss on my cheek. “Thanks for lunch,” she whispered.
Then she turned and hurried into the building and was lost in a sea of students.
Four
Taylor
My mind was so cluttered with thoughts of Kian—how his lips seemed to be made to fit mine, the way his blue eyes blazed when he was angry, his infectious smile, how incredibly mad he made me, and at the same time how completely and utterly he turned me on—that I didn’t even notice Kyle had walked up beside me.
“Tay,” he said trying to get my attention. “Taylor.”
I turned to face him. “Hey, Kyle. What’s up?”
“I saved a seat for you in Stats,” he stated.
“Sorry. I got to class late, so I just slipped in the back.”
He frowned. “You’re never late to class.”
“Yeah, well, I was today.” I didn’t really feel like discussing Kian with Kyle.
“It wasn’t that hockey player, was it?” The way he said hockey player made Kian sound like dirt. I didn’t like it.
I wasn’t sure what was going on with Kian but I definitely didn’t want to share my insecurities with Kyle. I knew anything I told Kyle he’d twist around to make Kian seem like a villain.
I stopped walking and crossed my hands over my chest. “And what if it was?”
He swallowed and his forehead creased with thought. “I don’t trust that guy.”
I wasn’t sure I did either but there was something so overpowering between us, every ounce of resolve I had not to see him again completely dissolved away when he looked at me and smiled.
“Kyle, I know you care about me. And you know how much I appreciate it. But you have to give me some space, okay?”
His face became sullen. “When you told me about Austin and your senior year of high school, I made you a promise. Do you remember what it was?”
“Of course,” I replied. “You promised that you would never let anyone ever hurt me again.”
“I meant it.” I had never seen Kyle look so serious.
“I know.” I gave my friend a half smile.
“I could beat him up if I had to,” Kyle teased. “Go ahead, make my day.”
“Okay, Dirty Harry,” I joked. “Let’s go study for our Social Psych exam.”
I grabbed Kyle’s elbow and the two of us headed for the library.
***
I was exhausted by the time I got back to my suite. All I wanted to do was lie down and take a nap before dinner. But as soon as my head hit the pillow, I heard my cell phone beep.
An incoming text.
I thought about ignoring it but I really wanted to see if it was from Kian.
But then I got mad at myself for hoping it was from Kian.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t take my mind off of him and I hated it. The last thing I wanted was to get hung up on a guy, especially when I had so much going on the next few months. I had to keep my GPA up and I was taking some of the most difficult classes in the undergraduate psychology curriculum including both Research Design and Statistics.
I also had to worry about taking the GRE and scoring high enough to have my application for the doctoral program taken seriously.
And I was in the midst of my research internship and helping my mentor prepare an article for publication, and not just any article, an article that he assured me would have my name as a co-author.
It was a delicate balance to make sure all of the pieces of the puzzle would come together. With a guy in the picture, I felt like the entire puzzle could come apart at any moment.
Especially a guy like Kian. I’d only known him a few days and he’d already managed to completely throw me off balance. He’d infiltrated nearly all of my waking hours with memories of him kissing me and staring at me with those blazing blue eyes of his. Those memories alone already had the power to stir feelings deep inside me. Feelings that I’d worked extremely hard to keep trapped inside ever since Austin.
But Kian was doing everything in his power to weasel his way into my life and he was obviously good at it because it was working.
I hopped from my bed and grabbed the cell phone from my desk, unable to control my curiosity. As I suspected, it was a text from Kian but the message was cryptic: Game Saturday night. Two tickets for you at the box office.
If he was inviting me to his game on Saturday, it was a strange way of offering an invitation.
I wasn’t a fan of hockey. My family wasn’t into sports. As a concert cellist, my dad spent his life practicing his instrument and my mom, a novelist and poet, spent her days and nights behind a computer keyboard. Both of my parents also taught at the U. I was raised by two professional artists and intellectuals, who wouldn’t know the difference between a basketball and a football if they were hit in the head with them.
Two tickets. I couldn’t ask Kyle to go to the game with me and I didn’t have any close female friends. There was only one other person I could possibly ask and it was a long shot.
Zelda.
My older sister was still in school studying for a degree in theater. She was apparently on the five year plan, so far, and she didn’t seem to be in any rush to complete her degree. The two of us were only 18 months apart but we couldn’t have been more different. She was an outgoing free-spirit with tons of friends and even more boyfriends.
The extent of my social circle in college was Kyle and I hadn’t had a boyfriend since my high school sweetheart, Austin, shattered my heart.
My sister was named after Zelda Fitzgerald, the wife of The Great Gatsby author F. Scott Fitzgerald, whom my mother adored. My mom should have given more thought to Zelda Fitzgerald’s life before naming my sister after her because according to literary history, Zelda was crazy and ended up in a mental hospital, which didn’t seem too far off from my sister’s lot in life.
I picked up my cell and dialed Zelda’s home number. She didn’t have a cell phone. She didn’t even own a phone from this century. She used one of those old fashioned rotary
dialers that she found at a thrift store for a dollar. I was surprised the thing still worked. But my sister abhorred technology. She didn’t even own a computer. Somehow she survived without email and Google.
I wasn’t surprised when her phone rang indefinitely and she didn’t pick up. I dreaded having to find her but at least I knew the few places to look.
Since a nap was now out of the question, I threw on my sneakers and headed out the door to one of the places off campus I disliked the most: my sister’s home away from home.
***
I stood outside the campus theater. The fabulous building was gorgeous, modern and newly remodeled. I heard theater critics say it could rival any theater on Broadway.
Too bad that’s not where my sister liked to spend her time. Right across the street was an off-campus avant-garde theater called TheatreArtz. The place was a complete dive that attracted the outcast, offbeat and fringe-dwellers of society. It was no wonder my sister fit right in.
My only saving grace was that it was still early afternoon and most of the regulars didn’t arrive until after dark. It made me wonder if a few of them were vampires, or maybe thought they were. Those were the kinds of loons my sister attracted.
I took a deep breath then gathered the courage I needed to enter the place. It always smelled like a disgusting combination of mildew and dirty gym socks. The small venue, which only seated about 200 at full capacity, was completely dark except for a small spotlight illuminating two people on stage.
As I got closer, I recognized my sister and one of her many paramours, as she called them. I referred to them as the string of guys she was currently sleeping with.
The guy on stage with her was Robyn, one of her classmates in the theater program. One of the first things he told people when they met him was that he was omnisexual. I had no idea what that meant nor did I ever want to find out.
Robyn was tall, probably six feet, but rail thin. He wore his dark hair spiky and when he turned sideways, he looked like a zipper.
My sister’s hair color of the week was cotton candy pink. She never wore a hair color more than seven days and she didn’t always limit herself to one color. My sister’s style could best be described as an eclectic mix of 60s flower child and 80s post-punk. She usually wore long flowing white skirts and billowy blouses but her hair was short and spiky and generally rainbow colored.
Fire on Ice (Fire on Ice Series) Page 4