by Mona Kasten
Girls always dream of happy endings—and I found mine in Nate. At least that’s what I believed until I caught him with Rebecca Pennington. She was a landscape architect from next door, with whom Nate apparently had more in common than I thought. The girl with the perfect body that I saw under Nate’s body in bed.
In our bed.
“Maybe you should tell your dad,” Allie suggested, and I stiffened.
“No way.”
“He thinks you parted on good terms,” my friend ventured. “What if he were to give out your number, meaning well? Then the switch to a new number and all that effort would be pointless.”
“You sound like my voice of reason,” I groaned, collapsing into my chair. “I wish you’d just encourage me to go out again, introduce me to hot guys, and remind me how to get laid.”
Allie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” I growled. Hell no, there was no way I wanted that.
“Because if you do, I know someone who would definitely volunteer to solve the problem.”
I looked up. “Did you just describe my vagina as a problem?”
“No, I’m just dropping a hint that Spencer still has the hots for you.”
I groaned. Not that again.
“I don’t want Spencer. And I’m not so desperate that I’d jump the first guy to come my way.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Allie’s smile was mysterious.
I picked up one of the chocolates and threw it at her. “Just because you and Kaden have… so much fun together doesn’t mean that you have to feel sorry for me.”
“But I don’t feel sorry for you!” She leaned down to grab the candy from the floor and popped it into her mouth. “I just want the best for you.”
“And that would be?”
Her gray-green eyes sparkled. “Dawn, you are amazing. You should feel great about yourself. Forget that asshole and look ahead. You want my advice? You should go get laid, and preferably with our friend Spencer Cosgrove. But you are welcome to pick another member of the male species.”
I stuffed a handful of those God-awful chips in my mouth just so I wouldn’t have to say anything else.
Chapter 4
I’ve never been a coward.
Once, when someone stole my towel at the gym, I didn’t cower in shame, but instead walked calmly, dripping wet and naked as a jaybird, from the shower all the way to the locker room.
Another time, when I accidentally scratched a mean old neighbor’s car with my bike, I pulled together all my strength and rang his doorbell to confess.
Nope, not a coward.
Repeating these words in my head, I stood in front of Allie’s apartment building.
Usually I face unpleasant situations head on, instead of running from them. Which is why I was now going to talk to Kaden—I just hoped he would be wearing something this time. I was in no mood for a penis sequel.
I pushed open the door to her building with my shoulder and bounded up the stairs to her place. Allie was already waiting at the apartment door. After hugging her, I peeled off my jacket and made a beeline for the living room.
Kaden was sitting on the couch, game controller in his hand, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. Noticing me, he hit the pause button. Lines crinkled around his eyes as the corners of his mouth tipped up in an amused smile.
“Hello, Dawn.”
“What are you grinning about?” I blurted out and felt my cheeks burning. “Yeah, I saw you naked. It’s not the first penis I’ve ever seen. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop looking at me with that dopey grin. Got it?”
His smirk widened and he leaned back, not a care in the world, as if I hadn’t just mentioned his genitals. “To be honest, I was a kind of scared that you were going to take a bite out of me: your eyes were popping out of your head!”
“Kaden.” Allie interrupted with a gentle warning, but I could also hear her amusement.
“Honestly, Bubbles. If you hadn’t been here, Dawn probably would have eaten me alive.”
“Your body isn’t that great, Mr. White,” I rolled my eyes.
Kaden raised his tattooed arms over his head and stretched with a satisfied look.
“Quit teasing Dawn,” Allie called from the kitchen.
“Dawn’s here?” a voice called out.
Oh, shit.
The bedroom door swung open to reveal Spencer sitting on the floor. He was holding a plastic stick with a ragged, stuffed mouse dangling from a rubber band at the end.
When he saw me, a smile spread across his face. “Hey.”
My eyes were drawn to his hands. In the left one he held the plastic stick and with the other he was stroking Spidey. I’d never noticed how big his hands were. With long fingers and wide wrists—perfect for holding someone tight. His hand traveled slowly across Spidey’s silky fur, then his fingers curled under to scratch the cat under his chin. My gaze wandered along his arm, over the casually rolled-up plaid shirt, his shoulders, which today seemed a bit wider than I remembered, until I finally met his blue eyes again. Something stirred in me that had lain dormant for months.
Heaven.
Spencer Cosgrove was simply petting a cat, and it turned me on. No, no, no.
“He’s gotten so big.” I cleared my throat and forced a smile.
“Yeah, right? He’s also pretty mean now.”
“Only with you, Spence,” Allie said behind me.
I couldn’t resist: “Spidey’s pretty darn smart.”
Spencer snorted. “With me he can try out things that he’d never dare to do with you. Right, my little friend?” Dropping the stick, he took the cat’s tiny head in his hands, using his thumbs to smooth the fur near Spidey’s ears.
My stomach leapt again. Come on: why did the sight of a man petting a cute little kitty make my cheeks go hot?
Spidey took advantage of Spencer’s brief distraction by slipping between his hands, pouncing on the stuffed mouse, and biting it. Before Spencer could grab the stick again, the cat pranced into the living room, dragging the rubber band and stick behind him. When he reached me, he started purring and dropped his prey.
“Thank you, Spidey.” I leaned down and stroked his soft, fluffy head. “That’s very kind of you.”
“Bad move. Stop flirting with her, man.”
I couldn’t meet Spencer’s eyes. Not when my body reacted so unpredictably. So I slid my hand along Spidey’s back to his tail one last time before rising to join Allie as she set up our workspace.
For the next few hours, we focused entirely on our analysis of Sylvia Plath’s poem, Mirror, and her life story as a symbol and reflection of the women’s movement. At least we tried. Because it was almost impossible to block out Spencer and Kaden, who, at some point, began to fight each other on the sofa, which resulted in a lot of loud grunting and shouting.
Thankfully, the two of them decided to order food for us later that evening.
Over dinner, I only talked with Allie; we made up for lost time because we still had a lot of work to do for class. At some point Kaden started to massage Allie’s neck, and Spencer stood looking over my shoulder to see our work. Normally I would’ve hunched down and let his comments roll over me. I would’ve made some kind of ironic remark and gotten him to smile. But today that was impossible. All I could do was sit up straight and pretend to be totally immersed in my work as he stood behind me, his hands resting on the back of the chair.
Maybe I was a coward after all.
Chapter 5
I spent the rest of the week trying to pull myself together, pretending that nothing had happened. Spencer was banished to a file in the corner of my brain labeled non-existent. Instead of thinking about him, I went to classes, worked with Allie on polishing up our essay, and—the minute I got home—returned to work on
Hot for You, like there was no tomorrow. That was also why I’d turned down Allie’s invitation to come over Friday night and go out partying. That, and the fact that seeing Spencer again might well kill me.
Non-existent.
I’d just stay home and write. Or read. Or both. Anything but think about Spencer.
Non-existent!
When I returned to the dorm that evening the halls were buzzing with activity. Many students were heading home for the weekend, visiting their families or keeping up their long-distance relationships.
Carrying my shoulder bag, some groceries, and a bag of new books, I stood for a second in front of my door, then knocked loudly a few times to warn Sawyer. Closing my eyes, I entered the room.
“At the count of three, I’ll open my eyes. If anyone’s indecent, he or she should get dressed if they don’t want me to see them,” I announced loudly.
The answer came in the form of a muffled sob.
My eyes popped open, I dropped my bags to the ground. “Sawyer?”
“Get out,” came the gruff answer.
She was sitting by the window on her side of the room. Her blonde, tangled hair hung like a curtain in front of her face and she’d pulled her legs up to her chest.
I pulled a second chair up to the window next to her and sat down. “What’s wrong?”
“Go to hell, Dawn.” She was still looking at the floor.
“I know, you’re not into people trying to help you,” I said. “But you sound like you’ve been crying for hours, and Sawyer Dixon just doesn’t cry.”
Sawyer lifted her head and looked at me blankly. Her makeup was smeared; gray streaks ran down her cheeks.
“Who should I kill? I know someone who owes me a favor,” I said.
She snorted.
“I hooked up with a guy a few days ago.”
“What did the asshole do to you?” I asked, trying to sound calm. Inside, my stomach was churning.
“We fooled around,” she began, clearing her throat.
“My necklace got caught in my hair, so I took it off, and now… it’s gone.” Her expression went blank again. “He says he has no idea what I’m talking about.”
“Is the necklace important to you?” I asked carefully, with a frown.
She nodded. It was a short, choppy motion and I could tell how hard it must be for her to share anything with me.
“It was my mom’s. It’s a pendant and…” She swallowed hard and briefly closed her eyes. Jagged breaths made her shoulders tremble, and I could hardly believe that this was my roommate.
Sawyer never revealed her feelings and was so closed-off that I sometimes wondered if she was human. If losing a necklace made her this upset, it must mean a lot to her. And if so, I wanted to help.
I dared to reach out and touch her arm. “Tell me where he lives.”
She frowned. “I don’t need a guardian angel.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re strong, independent, and fabulous, but sometimes it helps to have backup.” Our eyes met. “I’m going to get your necklace back for you.”
She shook her head, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t have a say in the matter, do I? You’re just going to do it?”
Grinning, I nodded and stood up. She texted the address to my phone.
Of course it was the frat house for jocks. Not that Sawyer would ever hang out with a mere mortal, someone who didn’t look like he could crush me with one hand.
It was obvious from a distance that preparations were under way for a party. A couple of guys were hoisting beer kegs down from the back of a truck, while their friends were coming out the front door to form the next part of the chain to move the kegs inside.
I was sure I’d been here before, a couple of months ago. Allie and I had let a couple of guys talk us into going to their party. It was a frat house, that much I remembered. In any case, the beautiful, old facade of the building seemed familiar.
I squared my shoulders and headed past the beer keg guys, climbing the stairs to the front door. Trying to exude confidence, I tried to ignore the gawkers, hoping none of them would ask me what I was doing there. These frat guys were known for trying to pick up any girls they could. Tonight it was my turn. Undercover, don’t get me wrong.
Sawyer’s instructions told me to go to the second floor, third room to the left.
Easy as pie.
Once upstairs, I strode down the corridor until I’d reached the door that I hoped would lead me to the necklace. Goosebumps prickled my arms; adrenaline surged through me, and every fiber of my being knew I was about to do something forbidden.
This would work well in my next story.
I felt like an undercover agent, mysterious… but unfortunately not invisible.
“Hey,” a deep voice resounded in the hallway.
Shit.
I stood stock still, and felt my cheeks burning. If only I wouldn’t blush. Putting on my most casual expression, I turned around and ran my fingers through my hair in what I hoped was a flirtatious gesture.
“Hi,” I responded.
I looked at the guy leaning against a doorframe a few doors down, his arms crossed over his broad chest. Beautiful light green eyes returned my gaze.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I’m looking for…” Damn: Sawyer had told me the guy’s name, but I couldn’t remember it for the life of me.
Feverishly, I tried to come up with something. “… the snuggle bunny who lives here. We met last week in Professor Lambert’s lecture; he ran into me and knocked my things everywhere—they went flying into the aisles. Just like in the movies.”
His mouth twitched and he took a slow step toward me. Automatically, I stepped back.
“I’m Brix,” he said, holding out his hand.
Something clicked in the back of my mind as our hands touched. We’d met somewhere.
OMG. He was the same guy who’d gotten Allie so drunk a few months back that she ended the evening by dancing on a table.
I hoped he didn’t recognize me.
“It’s about time you told me your name,” Brix whispered.
Yes! He had no idea who I was.
“I’m Chelsea,” I said, picking the first name that came to mind.
“Nice to meet you, Chelsea.” Brix gave me a half smile. “Your ‘snuggle bunny’ isn’t home right now, and he usually locks his room. But I’m pretty sure he’d be glad to meet you later downstairs. Why don’t we get you a drink?”
I had a feeling he wouldn’t take kindly to rejection. There was nothing to do but go with Brix. He led me into the kitchen and filled a plastic cup with punch that he’d taken out of the fridge.
I toasted with Brix, who’d opened a beer for himself. Then he pulled me over to a leather sofa in the middle of the lounge. I peeled off my jacket, wrapped it along with my scarf around the strap of my bag and set both at my feet. A few guys were already here for the party; they seemed to be frat boys, as well. A huge sound system was brought in and connected, which thundered bass through the whole house.
Cautiously, I sipped the punch. Mmmm. The stuff tasted like fruity ice cream with a hint of vanilla.
“Good, right?” Brix leaned in and put an arm on the back of the couch.
I nodded. “What’s in it?”
His expression turned conspiratorial. “My grandma’s secret recipe.”
I laughed and took another sip. My weakness for ice cream was getting in the way of my mission—the punch tasted like a passion fruit milkshake. I didn’t intend to empty the cup, but it happened by itself while I kept Brix talking about himself so I didn’t have to think up more lies.
When Brix saw that my cup was empty, he got up and pushed his way through the crowd to the kitchen to get me a refill.
Now was my chance.
I grabbed my things and stood up. Everything started spinning, and I had to lean on the back of the sofa with one hand and blink to make it stop. The sweeter the alcohol, the more careful you had to be. It was a rule I’d broken more than once.
I squeezed past the makeshift dance floor behind the sofa and headed for the stairs. Tons of people were milling around already. The air was stuffy and smelled like pot.
Excellent.
I climbed the steps, clinging to the railing. The staircase below me seemed to sway, and it took all my concentration to stay on mission. Upstairs, hardly anyone noticed me. I saw a couple standing close to the wall, going at each other. As quickly as possible in my sorry state, I moved to the third door on the left and turned the knob. In a flash I had pushed through the small gap and closed the door silently behind me.
Holding my breath, I turned around. When I finally inhaled again, the smell of citrus disinfectant penetrated my nostrils.
I would kill Sawyer: where had she led me?
After groping around for a moment, I found the light switch on the right-hand side of the door. Flipping it, I wished I could have thrown a tantrum then and there.
Sawyer’s instructions had brought me right into the bathroom. That fucking idiot. Just as I was digging my phone out of my bag, the door behind me opened, and I was pushed forward. I spun around. Brix was standing in the doorway, eyes narrowed.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“I came for a friend,” I said quickly and raised my hands defensively. “She left her necklace here, and I wanted to get it back for her because it has sentimental value. There, now you have the boring truth about why I’m in your bathroom.”
“Right, I get it. And I’m Jesus Christ.”
In a split second he’d slammed the door shut. Outside, I heard the screech of a metal chair being dragged across the floor. He’d barricaded me in the bathroom with a chair.
“Hey!” Grabbing the doorknob, I rattled it in vain. “Brix! Let me out of here right now!”