by Kata Čuić
That’s a low blow. One I do not need pointed out to me. I literally bite my tongue to keep from lashing out that this room never smells like sex even though they sleep here together every goddamn night.
“How long have you two been together now?” This is such an asshole move, but I just can’t stop myself. It’s better than thinking about why I can’t bother to change my damn pants.
“A little over a year,” Evie says at the same time Rob says, “Four hundred and five days and six hours.”
“You’re such a dork,” she giggles.
“You love that I’m a dork,” he responds without missing a beat.
I gag. For multiple reasons.
Number one—Evie Papageorgiou doesn’t giggle. She hasn’t since our junior year of high school. My best friend’s girlfriend has been dealt such a shit hand in life that it honestly makes me feel like a spoiled little prick to even have any issues.
I would have a few less if it wasn’t for her, actually.
Our senior year, she was brutally assaulted and left for dead on the side of the trail behind our high school. That’s after she was date-raped by her boyfriend junior year.
Yeah. Twice in one lifetime. Like I said—shitty deal.
What the fuck does that have to do with me?
Easy. I carried the near lifeless, beaten, bloodied body of her second attacker two miles up the trail with Mike after Rob mauled the guy.
Rob—my best friend since good Catholic boy preschool—is the one who found some sociopathic freak raping and trying to murder his girlfriend.
They’d only been together for a few hours is the really shit thing of it all.
Evie isn’t wrong. Rob really is a dork. A sensitive dork. That’s why I’ve always wondered if he’s secretly a woman in a man’s body.
He loved Evie in silence for years before they finally worked all their shit out. Years. From the first time he laid eyes on her, he was a goner. I wasn’t always as jaded as I am now, but even then, I thought he was full of shit.
Love at first sight? Yeah, sure.
But he stayed the course. He could barely speak to her, never noticed the stupid hearts in her eyes every time she looked at him, went into a tailspin when she started dating someone else. It took the universe telling him to get his shit together for him to finally make a move. Three fucking years later.
It doesn’t seem like it as much these days, but Rob is shy as hell. Sure, he’s an NCAA starting quarterback with chicks drooling over his every move on campus, but football hasn’t ever been a choice for him. His dad is a pro agent and played college ball. He’s been molding Rob in his image ever since we were little. With Rob’s build and his genetics, he had no choice but to take his place in his father’s shadow. He’s going to outshine his father by yards, and that’s probably because of the woman still giggling in bed with him as he peppers her face with kisses that I know damn well won’t turn into anything more.
That day fucked them both up so bad. They’ve been together for over a year and still haven’t sealed the deal.
They love each other.
I shake the thought loose the second it roots in my jock brain. Love isn’t real. Sex is real. People only care about sex. If they didn’t, Evie wouldn’t have been raped twice in her measly eighteen years of life.
I blink to find them both staring at me, their heads tilted at weird, matching angles on the bed.
“What?” I bark.
I can’t believe I almost fucking shoved in their faces what I know about them that no one else knows. Or cares to notice. How the fuck does no one else realize they haven’t had sex after over a year together?
I am an asshole of epic proportions.
“Are you okay, Alex?” Evie whispers.
Shit, the look in her eyes guts me. After everything she’s been through, she’s genuinely worried about me. I’m sure as fuck not her boyfriend.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m gonna get out of here for a bit.” I grab my coat out of the closet and lock the door behind me.
They probably think I’m going for a hookup. Maybe if I had that option, I would be.
I don’t.
Which is probably why I find myself staring at the entrance to the Honors dorm.
My student ID won’t get me in this building. I don’t actually live here. I have no idea what room I’m looking for.
A blonde with a big rack and red lips winks at me as she nudges me to the side. “Excuse me.”
There’s no excuse for you. Where the fuck were you an hour ago when I needed you?
“I hate to bother you, but my girlfriend is really sick, and she can’t come down to let me in. She texted me an hour ago and said she was throwing up, but she hasn’t responded since. Would you mind?”
She puts her hand over her heart on reflex, then lowers it and glares at me. “Really? What’s your girlfriend’s name?”
Two points for Blondie—taking care of herself and giving a damn about the other women in the building.
This is a big gamble. There are five floors in Honors. “Amira Deep. She’s an RA in the building.”
“Oh my God! She’s my RA! If I had known she was sick, I wouldn’t have gone out tonight!” Blondie swipes us both in and practically drags me to the elevator, babbling about what a sweet boyfriend I am the whole time.
I don’t feel so sweet. I have ulterior motives, and they’re ready to explode out of me by the time we tumble out of the elevator on Amira’s floor.
Luckily, I’m dragged to Amira’s room.
I don’t even have to knock on the door.
After so long that I’m starting to worry about self-fulfilling prophecies and bullshit like that, Amira appears.
Hell. Maybe I really did wish her sick. Her black hair’s a mass of tangles; her glasses are crooked on her flushed face, and she’s only wearing a ratty oversized t-shirt that barely covers the goods.
“Genevieve? Is something wrong?”
I shove my way through the door and wrap my arms around Amira, whispering, “Act sick.”
She pushes me away. “I’m contagious.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I already feel a little better.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Genevieve gushes. “Your boyfriend can stay with you while I go get you crackers and ginger ale if you want.”
Amira scrunches her face then waves off that suggestion. “I do not think I can keep anything down. Thank you so much for letting him up. I promise he will not stay long.”
“Are you sure?” Genevieve presses like she can’t take a fucking hint.
Amira must think Genevieve is talking about me staying past curfew. “I am sure. Thank you for the offer. It turns out I only need to be held until I fall asleep. He will leave soon.”
I can take a fucking hint. And I don’t like it at all.
After several more rounds of assurance to her resident, Amira closes the door then leans against it like it’s the only thing holding her up. “What are you doing here?”
I didn’t want to run this route, but maybe everything’s been building to this all along. “Apparently, to stop you from making a horrible mistake.”
She glares at me and straightens her glasses. “I agree. I have been doing homework for hours and still nothing.”
That explains why she looks wrecked at least. I have no explanation for the way I cage her in against the door. We don’t need to be this close for me to give her some damn good reasons to study.
“You wanted to know why I’m willing to give up my free time to help you? What my reasons are for not letting you fumble through this on your own?”
For once, she doesn’t argue. She just nods as she squints at me.
Amira might not be puking her brains out, but I do.
“That woman at the party? The one you think is part of my rules?”
Amira nods.
“She’s the reason for the rules.”
The intense expression on Amira’s face slides away until aw
areness makes those black eyes of hers practically glow. “You love her.”
“What? No!” I back away and tug at my hair. Seriously. That’s what this woman drives me to. “She’s my best friend’s girlfriend!”
“Many a song has been written about the conflicted emotions you must be having,” she leads, then she hums a tune I’m surprised she even knows.
“Listen up, you little shit.”
She crosses her arms over chest. “There is nothing little about me.”
No. She’s got that right at least. Amira has to clock in at around five-ten, and she’s definitely sporting a nice pair of double Ds. The fact I know that is all the more reason to push on.
“I’m not in love with anyone. Never have been, never will be. Rule number one—love is a lie. Rule number two—sex is power. If you want to have sex, then you need to forget about love, and you need to maintain your power. If you want to be raped multiple times in your life, then I’ll walk back out your door.”
She puts her hand on my chest to stop me from barreling through her. My rapid heartbeat pummels her fingers. She tips her head toward her bed. “Sit down and explain yourself.”
I do. For the first time, I tell someone…everything.
Almost.
“Why not use an app?” I scroll through the options—Tinder, Bumble, Plenty of Fish, Ok Cupid, Grindr. “This seems like a much more logical option.”
“Number one,” Alex glances down at my phone. “Grindr is an app for gay guys. Number two, did you not listen to a fucking word I said to you last week in your room?”
His low, dark voice makes me shiver.
I will never forget what he said to me that night. I will never forget the tears he did not even realize were running down his face as he told me his reasons.
I will not forget that this game is very, very important to him.
I squeeze my phone tighter in my hands. If I do not do something with them, I will be unable to stop adjusting the dangerously low neckline of my tank top. “I heard you, Brawn. I simply fail to understand how a hookup with a drunk frat boy is safer than hooking up with a man who took the time to make a profile on an app that is designed to match…hookups.”
I have not had any alcohol—another of Alex’s rules. My words make me sound inebriated nonetheless.
He rolls his eyes and takes a swig from his Solo cup. “Because apps are dangerous, Brain. Those guys are complete strangers. At least I know these dudes.”
I am not about to point out that his friend, Evie, knew both of her attackers. Alex knew them, too. I understand his need to control the uncontrollable, to change that which can never be changed. I understand it all too well. Attempting to change the uncontrollable is why I’m at the Sig O house again tonight, dressed in clothes I would normally never wear. Perhaps we are both only avoiding the inevitable.
“Have you never heard the proverb about not mixing business with pleasure?” I gesture at the various athletes surrounding us—football, basketball, hockey, baseball, lacrosse. I have knowledge of at least a few players on every team. My makeup, hair, and clothing look nothing like the me they are familiar with, but my damned accent will give me away the moment I speak. I do not wish to lose my tutoring stipend, only my virginity.
Alex raises an eyebrow at me. “Number one, you’ve been on the prowl here before. Number two, that’s why I had you make me a list of all the players you’ve ever tutored, remember? We won’t use them.”
I prefer to think of it as mutually beneficial. I detest the idea that I will be using anyone at all. My expression must give away my disgust.
“Relax,” Alex says, squeezing my shoulder. “It’s a practice run, remember? You’re just gonna take a test drive tonight in a controlled environment. I’ll be here the whole time if you need back up.”
A beautiful woman with features as American as apple pie wiggles her fingers at him in a flirty wave. I cannot decide if her gesture is an invitation or an acknowledgement.
He winks at her.
“You will not be of much use to me for backup if you are otherwise occupied,” I mutter.
“Hey,” he snaps. He grabs my phone out of my hands then slides it into the back pocket of my extremely short denim skirt. His eyes are clear and steady on me. “If you need me, I’ll be here. Always.”
He means every word. What a long way we have traveled in such a short amount of time. We have not nearly reached our destination yet.
I glance at his hand on my shoulder. “Your show of ownership will reduce my chances.”
“Shit,” he mutters before pulling away. He leans against the wall beside me and studies the crowd. He gestures across the room with a lift of his chin. “That one. Brown hair, green eyes, medium build, wearing the fourteen jersey.”
I study Alex’s chosen candidate. “While I appreciate your effort, this will not work for me if I do not also find him physically attractive.”
Alex snorts into his cup.
A few women gathered near him watch with wide eyes and parted lips like it is the sexiest sight they’ve ever seen.
“Okay, Brain. I’ll concede this point. Let’s switch it up. You choose, and I’ll judge.”
“Him,” I say immediately. All night, there has been something magnetizing to me about this particular man’s presence. He’s tall and trim without being overly bulky. I’m very curious as to what his hair would feel like beneath my fingertips. He has a nice smile with blindingly white teeth and a warmth to his eyes that could not possibly be fake.
Alex chokes on his drink. “You can’t pick him!”
“Why not?” My nerves are already on edge. The slightest obstacle will cause me to crumble.
“Because I’ve seen what he’s packing in the locker room!” Alex’s eyes are wider than the full moon. “If things go the way you want, he’ll rip you in two! You’re not ready for that kind of dick yet.”
“What if he is a unicorn?” I challenge, falling back on old habits of arguing with him to ease my jitters. “You would deprive me of that?”
“All right,” Alex says, slapping his cup down on the nearest surface. “You wanna jump the gun? Be my guest.”
I inhale his distrust in my instincts like fine perfume. It’s the bolt of confidence I need to go through with this. Without a glance back, I part my way through the sea of heaving bodies to reach my goal.
By the time I return to Alex’s side, he has refilled his drink. He’s listing a little. This may not be his first refill. I’ve been practicing for quite a while.
“How’d it go?” he asks, slurping the last dregs from his cup before reaching for another nearby.
I grab it from him and take a healthy swallow to dull the edges of my frustration. “He is not interested.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alex murmurs. “He had a mark lined up for the night already.”
I follow Alex’s gaze to where my chosen stud is leading a blonde bombshell up the staircase.
“Great.” I chug more of the warm beer. “I was only annoying him then.”
“This is a blessing in disguise,” Alex insists, prying the cup out of my hand. “I’m telling you, starting with him would have set you up for failure. You’d never look at another dick again.”
His words strike a primal chord. Tremors begin at the base of my spine, spiraling outward until I’m visibly shaking. “Alex. Oh my God, Alex.”
He’s too busy watching the crowd to notice my nervous breakdown.
“Alex!”
“What?” He swings his face toward me with an annoyed expression that melts away into panic. His hands land on my shoulders as he studies me. “Did you take anything to drink from him?”
“What?”
“A drink, Amira.” He shakes me a little. “Have you had anything to drink that you didn’t get from me?”
“No.” I slap away his hands then fold my arms across my body, suddenly aware of all the skin I’m exposing. “I have been doing exactly what you said. I’ve been set
ting myself up for failure by choosing men who would never possibly choose me in return. I do not know how to do this. I have never been able to do it for myself. Something is wrong with me, and I’ve always known it. This is why I’m a twenty-year-old virgin!”
A few gazes snap toward us. Both male and female. Excited and repulsed.
“Mind your fucking business,” Alex barks before returning his attention to me. “Do you really want this? Because it’s go time. If this isn’t your game to play, there’s no shame in that.”
“I do.” I lift my quivering chin. “But it will never work. I am telling you, something is wrong with me!”
His gaze softens. “Nothing’s wrong with you. And you’ve got me. If you wanna do this, then we’ll make it happen.”
I shake my head and bite my lip. “It is no use. I have been too sheltered for too long. In two years, I’m going to be married to a man I do not love, and it won’t matter anyway.”
He lifts my chin with a knuckle, questions dancing in his eyes. “Do you want experience for your arranged marriage? Is this all for him? Some guy you don’t even know?”
“No. This is for me. Just in case…in case…”
I cannot bring myself to say the words.
Just in case I have a lifetime of nothingness in front of me.
Alex drops his hand and shakes his head with disappointment. “This is not the Amira I’ve come to know.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” I argue.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Well, you know me. You know it all. I guess the question you’ve gotta ask yourself right now is do you trust me?”
Strangely enough, I do. Though until recently I did not know why he is the way he is. Even after his lurid confession, I suspect I have only scratched the surface because that is all he allows.
I nod.
“Good.” He pushes his cup toward me. “Finish this, then follow me.”
“I thought you did not want me to drink when I am on the prowl?”
He shrugs. “You need something to take the edge off, and you won’t have to worry this time. I’ll be with you.”
My eyes strain the confines of my skull. “You’ll be with me? That goes against your cardinal rule for this arrangement.”