F*ck Perfect (MindF*ck Book 2)

by Danyell Wallace

  An inflatable mattress?

  He stops walking when he sees me sitting in the middle of his living room.

  “Hey. I didn’t think you would be up.”

  I avert my eyes from the box under his arm to his face.

  “Yeah, I’ve been studying.” And masturbating. Or at least trying to…

  He nods. “Have you eaten? I brought some food from the deli if you want some.”

  My stomach begins to grumble. “Thanks,” I giggle. “I am kind of hungry.”

  Bryce props the box against the wall then we disappear into the kitchen to fix our plates. We sit down at the table together and dig in.

  “Did you get a lot of studying done?” he asks then spears his fork into some macaroni salad and shoves it inside his mouth.

  “I did.” I look up and watch him eat. “I texted you earlier; did you get it?”

  He clears his throat then uses his napkin to wipe at his mouth. “I did. Sorry I didn’t respond. I was in a study group when you called.”

  “How is that working for you?”

  “It’s helpful. I’m just counting down to graduation. I never should’ve taken that semester off.”

  I reach across the table and place my hand on his. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He stares at my hand as if touching him would cause him harm. I slowly pull it away. “Are we okay?”

  “What do you mean?” He continues eating while avoiding eye contact.

  “I mean, maybe it was a mistake that I came here.”

  He lets his fork fall to his plate. “Ava, I’ve already told you that I don’t mind.” His eyes blaze into mine.

  “What’s the inflatable mattress for?”

  He leans back in his seat. “For me to sleep on.”

  “Why did you waste your money? You’re already struggling to make ends meet. I could’ve slept on the couch!” I stand abruptly. “I hope you kept your receipt because you can return it tomorrow. For now, on I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have your bed.” I step away from the table, and Bryce reaches out and grabs my wrist.

  “Bryce, let go of me,” I spit.

  “You know how to get under my skin, don’t you?” He stands then pulls my body flush against his.

  “Excuse me?”

  He brings his mouth against my ear. “You heard me.”

  His lips caress my cheek. When I pull back to look at him, his light green eyes darken to a wicked seaweed color, and his breathing becomes labored. Every time he exhales, I can smell a hint of liquor.

  “Explain.” My voice trembles.

  His eyes search mine. He lets go of me and attempts to pull away, but I reach out and grab his shirt to keep him in place. We collide and stumble back on the table. I place my palms behind me to steady myself. My cotton shorts and tank ride up. Bryce braces himself with one arm wrapped around my waist while his right palm rests on the table.

  “Explain,” I repeat.

  He tightens his arm around me then pulls me forward on the table. The space between my legs comes in contact with something hard and prodding.

  The muscles in his jaw tighten. “Do you feel that, Ava?” His voice sounds pained.

  I bite down hard on my inner cheek.

  “I went to bed with a hard dick and woke up with one. To say the least, I didn’t get any sleep last night, so I’ve been dragging my ass all damn day. All because of you. He reaches for my hand and places it against his erection. “Bridget doesn’t get me this hard, and you fuckin’ know it.” His lips slant over mine, and his tongue flicks teasingly along my parted lips, making my body yearn for his familiar touch. “

  “Bryce—” My body trembles as thoughts of our past, consumed by sex, love, and betrayal, swarms my mind.

  “Bridget was right. You could’ve gone to your parents’, but you’re here with me.” Bryce pulls away as if he can’t stand to touch me. “I’m just trying to understand you, considering—” He pauses for a moment to gather his words. “You know what?” He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I have to go back into work and cover another shift,” he says, not looking at me. “I’ll stay at Bridget’s tonight, so don’t wait up.” He grabs his car keys and vanishes out the door.

  Chapter 5

  Ava

  Four Years Ago

  Senior year of high school

  “Where the hell is Bryce?”

  I look up from the notes that I’m typing on my MacBook and stare across the table at Gable, one of the smartest guys in our school. He has a GPA of 3.93, and I know this because we're both in the running for class valedictorian. Since my GPA is 4.02, he can’t stand that the honor will go to me. I know about his many appointments with his guidance counselor just to confirm his GPA status in hopes that I’ve failed and relinquished the throne. Dream on.

  “I’m sure he’s on his way,” I respond then continue to type away.

  “You said that fifteen minutes ago.” He slams his pen down on the table. “I mean, damn, some of us have places to be. We agreed to meet up every Thursday to work on this project, same damn time for an hour, and we’ve been sitting here on our asses, waiting on his ass, when our group session ended fifteen minutes with very little done.” He glares in my direction then shifts his attention over to this year’s Miss Davidson High pageant queen who almost lost her title when alleged pictures of her in an uncompromising situation surfaced. However, since they weren’t able to prove that it was her in the picture on her knees giving an unknown guy a blow job, she kept her title. “Hope, aren’t you and Bryce fuck buddies or some shit?”

  “Ha!” she scoffs then shakes her raven hair away from her shoulders. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” She twirls her pink bubble gum around her finger before sliding it back into her mouth. “I sent him a text thirty minutes ago and he still hasn’t responded to me.” Hope blows a huge pink bubble. When it pops, she resumes smacking on it. “It’s not like Bryce; when I text him, he usually responds immediately,” she smirks.

  I roll my eyes at her. I’ve never really had a problem with Hope, but since she’s the younger version of her man-eating, older sister Aubree, who I can’t stand since she attempted to steal my best friend Kennedy’s boyfriend Clay away, I just never cared to deal with her. She and Bryce have history since they all went to Colbert County High School before it was forced to shut down. Bryce, his sister Morgan, and their cousin Clay transferred here while she went to a private school temporarily before she was kicked out, for reasons unknown, and transferred here a couple of weeks ago with only two months left until graduation. Every day since she got here, I’ve had to endure hearing her and Bryce reminisce about their time at Colbert County and all the times they used to hook up. Just last week while she was perched on Bryce’s desk, which is located behind mine, she asked him if he wanted to skip the rest of his classes to go somewhere and fuck. As soon as the bell rang, I watched her pull him by the hand out of the classroom.

  My phone dings.

  Bryce: I’m just now getting your text. I totally forgot about today. I’m leaving my uncle’s farm now. Had to help Clay round up some cows.

  Excuses. I bet he was nowhere near his uncle’s farm. Probably chasing behind some girl.

  Ok, just get here. I text back angrily then place my phone, face down, on the table beside me.

  “That was Bryce.” I exhale a steady breath to regain my composure. “Something came up, but he’s on his way. If the two of you want to go, I’ll stick around and wait for him. You’ve already done your portions of the project, so I don’t see any reasons why you should have to stay.”

  “Well, I do have a hair appointment scheduled in an hour, so I’m going to head out.” Hope gathers all her belongings and quickly stuffs them inside her bag. “I guess I’ll see you guys later,” she says too chipper for my liking.

  “Bye,” Gable and I say in unison, though mine sounds more forced than his.

  “If I didn’t have dinner plans with my parents, I would stick around and tell Bryce’s ass off
. I hope he doesn’t think he’s getting an A for not doing shit with this project.”

  I give him a fake smile while mentally giving him the middle finger while he packs away his laptop and books.

  “Tell Bryce that if he intends to get a good grade on this project; which happens to count fifty percent of our overall grade, he better show up and participate.” He pushes his bifocals up on his nose.

  “Will do!” I reply sarcastically. Jackass!

  “Oh, and if you would, can you email his portion of his findings about his family history to me? He was supposed to bring that with him today.”

  “I’m on it.” My cheeks begin to hurt from fake smiling so damn hard. As soon as he walks away from the table, I relax the muscles in my face. “Geez, I didn’t think he would ever leave.”

  I place the cap on my glue stick and smooth my hand over the printout that I found on the internet about the Lumbee Indians fighting for their rights to be recognized as an Indian Tribe by the federal government. During ‘‘Our Family Tree’’ research project, I’ve discovered that I come from a line of ancestors who were Irish, Spanish, European, Congolese, and my newest discovery, Lumbee Indian.

  In my peripheral, I see Bryce walking fast my way. He pulls out the chair beside me and takes a seat. My nerves begin to boil, waiting to explode and release steam.

  “Ava, I’m so—” Bryce begins quietly.

  I whip around and lean forward until my nose is several centimeters from his. “Save it.” I pull back and start slamming shut books that I have sprawled open on the table. I grab the four books I used for research and march away from the table, making my way to the periodical section with Bryce matching my every step. “Took you long enough to get here,” I whisper-shout.

  “You don’t think I know that? If you would slow down and quit cutting me off then maybe I—”

  I stop walking and turn to him. “What? Explain?!?” I stomp my foot like a toddler having a hissy fit. “I’m so tired of your excuses!”

  “Shhhhh.” I hear from someone close by.

  “Don’t shush me,” I spit to whoever it is and continue my trek down aisles with columns of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books, only stopping to place a book back on the shelf. “I’m tired of carrying your load on this project, Bryce. Some of us actually care about our grades.”

  “I know and I’m sorry,” Bryce whispers in my ear as I’m sliding the final book in my arm to its rightful spot. I turn around to find myself sandwiched between the shelf and Bryce. I press my palms against his hard chest and attempt to push him back a step, but he doesn’t budge. “Why are you standing so close? Move!” I exasperate.

  He lowers his head to my eye level. “Damn it! Will you keep your voice down?”

  I ball my hands into fists. “Don’t tell me wh—"

  My words disappear inside of Bryce’s mouth as soon as his lips crash down on mine. The tension in my body slowly begins to fade away. My body slumps against the shelves, and my body involuntarily molds against Bryce’s as he presses me against the shelf. All the anger that I had for him, just moments ago, evaporates into thin air. Bryce sucks gently on my bottom lip then my top. When his tongue slides between my lips, I whimper as soon as I taste hints of peppermint. I exhale a needed breath when his lips leave mine then trail along my jawline, down the column of my neck, and back up to touch my ear where he pants quietly.

  “I’m sorry that I forgot to show up.” His breath fans against my ear. I close my eyes and wait for him to continue without further interruptions. “Graduation is two months away, and I needed to work in order to pay the final installments for my and Morgan’s cap and gown.

  Zings of guilt course through my body, and I immediately begin to feel horrible when I recall the conversation I had with his twin sister Morgan several weeks ago about their dad being laid off from work for months now. Their dad was the only one in the household bringing in the income, so when he lost his job, they fell behind on everything.

  “I completed my portion of the project two days ago. I just have to email it to you.” His lips skim over the sensitive spot below my ear, making me tremble. Somewhere between listening to the gruff, sexy sound of his voice, my beating heart, and me squirming to get relief to my aching nipples against the fabric of my shirt, I forget to breathe because I can’t think from lack of oxygen to my brain. I’m immediately resuscitated when his lips touch mine again, hungrily this time. I feel his hands sliding sneakily beneath my loose-fitting tank with skinny straps that tie into bows at the shoulders. “Bryce,” I whisper against his lips when I feel his strong, cool, callused fingers strum over my pert nipples. I hate strapless bras, so I’m completely bare underneath my top.

  “Omigod,” I quietly breathe into Bryce’s mouth when I feel a delicious sting course through my nipples as soon as he pinches them. Bryce lifts his head, and his lustful gaze has my heart fluttering erratically. Damn. He gently palms my breasts and lowers his head to claim my lips again.

  “Ahem!”

  The sound of someone clearing his or her throat halts him from kissing me again. He stares down at me for several seconds before pulling his gaze away to whoever interrupted us. His chest and the way his faded, green L.L. Bean shirt stretches across it becomes my focal point. I refuse to look at the person who just witnessed Bryce touch me in a way that’s been reserved only for me. His hands feel so much better than when I touch myself. I arch my back, summoning his touch again.

  “Ava, is that you?” a scratchy, nasally voice calls out.

  Oh, I know that voice. I close my eyes tight, praying that Miss Eula Watts, one of the deaconesses at my father’s church, opts for mistaken identity.

  “Ava, if your father knew—”.

  Bryce pivots and stands to my left, blocking Miss Eula’s view of me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I think you have the wrong girl.”

  “Humph! Well, if I have the wrong girl then, young lady, please show your face,” she orders.

  “Ma’am, it’s already bad that you just caught me and my girlfriend getting hot and heavy against the bookshelf. She’s been embarrassed enough. So, if you don’t mind, could you just take my word that you have the wrong person?”

  Silence slices between them while my heart beats heavily behind my sternum.

  “Keep in mind, young man, that there are children in here, and they don’t need to witness what I just did. So, if the two of you can’t control your hormones, I’d advise you to do it somewhere else.” Her voice is tight.

  “Yes, ma’am, and I’m sorry.”

  “Just don’t let it happen again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “These young people these days…” her voice trails off as she walks away.

  Bryce turns around and resumes his place in front of me. He cups my face, forcing me to look up at him. His thumbs rub sluggishly over my cheeks, and his eyes intensify on my lips.

  “I should get going.” My hands grip the shelf behind me. “I have choir rehearsal in thirty minutes.” Miss Eula’s unexpected presence jars my memory back to the here and now.

  Bryce looks at me skeptically but takes a small step back to give us space. “Okay,” he concedes quietly and runs a hand through the long, tousled, dark auburn strands on the top of his head.

  My eyes trail over the muscles that flex in his arm. Jesus!

  “I’ll email you the portion of my project in a few minutes from one of the library computers.” His eyes drop back down to my lips, and I can’t help but lick them.

  “Okay. I’ll print it up when I get home lat—”

  I stop speaking when Bryce steps forward and I find my back pressed between the shelves and his body once again. “Bryce, I’m going to be late.” I exhale and allow my eyes to travel from his broad chest to his sage eyes.

  His lips hover over mine. “Just one more kiss, Ava, and I promise to let you go,” he declares before deliciously possessing my lips once again.

  Chapter 6

  Bryce />
  I sit in my Camaro longer than I probably should. I left the library hours ago and decided to stop and kill some time at what was once an abandoned drive-in theater. The city just recently reconstructed it, and it is up and running for business again. There wasn’t a movie showing tonight, so I used the dark, quiet space to recollect what happened in the library between Ava and me. She’s the sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted since— never. Lips so soft and plump, and the way her breasts felt so perfect in my palms. I groan and massage my aching dick that hasn’t simmered down since leaving the library. If she were here with me right now, would she suck the ache away for me?

  “Fuck!” I sigh. Ava is, by far, like all the girls who throw themselves at me on the regular. She’s a pastor’s daughter for Christ’s sake, I try arguing with myself, but the sinner in me conjures up an image of Ava blowing me while I sit relaxed in a pew in her father’s church as a statue of the Lord, poised on antique furniture, frowns down on me. I curse and shake my dirty delusions away. I guess I’m more fucked-up than I thought.

  I stare up at the small, two-story, vinyl-siding house the color of yellow piss. My own private hell and a house that I grew up in that housed some happy childhood memories and some awesome teenage ones as well. Then that all came crashing down around my junior year of high school. So much shit was going on. My dad started getting fired, job-hopping from one to the next all because he couldn’t give up the bottle. It was like an everyday thing for my dad to come home, get sloppy drunk, pass out, then forget to wake up to his blaring alarm to make it to work on time the next day. His bosses got tired of it, so they let him go.