by Alla Kar
And some people just need a good old-fashioned ass-kicking to get over themselves.
***
Cade jumps out of his truck and slams the door. The sun shines down on us as I make my way toward the tailgate of his truck. I lift my legs to get through the knee-high weeds.
Cade laughs, and my stomach tightens at the sound. “Looks like Princess needs a new nickname.” He rubs the scruff on his jaw. “How about Rocky? Champ? What do you think?”
I snort and help him lower the tailgate before hopping on the edge. “I think I like Princess the best.”
He gives me a sexy smile and grips the nape of my neck. “Then Princess it is,” he whispers against my lips. “But look at you,” he says, shoving his phone in my face.
“I’m on YouTube?” I gasp. “Oh, God.” Yep, there I am, cussing Selena out in front of the entire class. Do I really talk like that? I hide my face in my palms and try to stop the giggle. “I’m on YouTube.”
Cade runs his fingers through his raven hair and smiles. “You’ve already got five thousand hits. Damn, girl. Remind me not to make you mad. You’ll knock me out.”
I snort and lean my head back, staring up at the sky. “Although fighting wasn’t what I suggested you do today, I’m proud of you,” he says, sliding his hand up the hem of my shirt.
I shrug. “I just snapped.”
Cade nods, making circles around my bellybutton. “It must be something about bitches because they go down easily. Look at Will. Out like a light.”
Definitely true. Will went down like a sack of potatoes. He hasn’t been back to the apartment; he sent some of his dad’s workers in to get his things. His lawyer gave me a note last week from Will. I didn’t tell Cade about it because I know he doesn’t want me interacting with Will. It said he was sorry. And that he was jealous that I’d started seeing Cade. When Selena come to him with the plan that he just agreed. Cade had suspected it was because of us, but now I know for sure it was. But it didn’t make a difference why he done what he done, but that I was going to overcome it.
And Cade was my strength.
I giggle and relax when Cade’s hand drifts over my ribs and down the curve in my side. “You talked to your dad?”
“Unfortunately. He called the other day. Supposedly the school sent my letter of two week leave to him for some ungodly reason.”
Cade traces up between my breast and then back down. “What did you say to him?”
I smile. “That I whooped Selena’s ass.”
Cade grins and tickles the side of my ribs as I try to get away. “He was mad?”
“Of course. He started telling me that I needed to come home so that he could make sure I was doing right.”
Cade watches me carefully. “And you said?”
“Screw you.”
The corner of his lip pulls up, and he barks out a laugh. “That a girl. Someone is growing some balls around here, and I’m sad to say it isn’t me.”
“You’re big enough already. Leave some growing room for the little people.”
He groans and rolls over until he’s hovering over me. “I like that you’re small. You’re portable.”
“Oh yeah? Where will you be carrying me, Cade?”
He shrugs and dips his head to take my mouth in his. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll carry you to the airport this summer.”
This summer. I can’t help the huge grin that spreads across my face. “Sydney,” I whisper. “We’re going to Australia.” Cade and I decided there wasn’t anything keeping us from what we want to do. And since it’s been my dream for as long as I remember, traveling is part of the deal. Our deal.
“Yeah, we are. And then London. And then Japan. Anywhere you want to go, we’ll go, Princess.”
I span my hands over his chest and feel the hard muscles beneath his thin T-shirt. “Have you talked to your mom?”
Cade’s smile falters a bit. “She’s trying. That’s more than I can usually say for her.”
“She’ll get there. I know she will. Does she know yet?”
Cade guides me down on his chest. “I don’t think I’m going to tell her about the guy,” he says. “I don’t want her to worry.”
I smile. “You’re so sweet, Cade.”
He rolls his eyes and puffs out his chest. “Don’t call me sweet, Princess. I’m supposed to be macho. Or tough. Not sweet. I knew you were going to ruin my reputation.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “Your reputation was ruined the minute I walked into that apartment building, Cade.”
Cade gives me a wicked smile before dropping his mouth to mine. My lips part for him, and he growls in response. “You’re damn right, woman.”
I settle into his touch and let myself freefall into his eyes. “We know everywhere I want to go. What about you?” I poke his chest. “Where do you want to go?”
Cade smiles, running the pad of his thumb against my bottom lip. “Jaden, I don’t care where we are, as long as you’re here with me, I don’t give a shit.”
A small laugh erupts from my mouth. “That was almost sweet, Cade.”
“Almost sweet is better than sweet. I’m working my mojo back up. Now get your cute butt over here and strip for me, woman.”
I grin. “Now you’re hardly sweet. It’s working.”
He grabs my waist and drags me underneath him until he’s blocking out the sun. “I love you, Jade,” he whispers.
My heart flutters. He watches me intensely, his eyes following the curves of my face and down to my lips.
The words form on my tongue, and I know they were meant to be there. No second guess. No what-if moments. “I love you, too. But you’re back to being sweet.”
He grins. “Damn it.”
Then he takes my mouth with his.
The End
Where You Are
Book 1 in the Together Series
Alla Kar
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2014 by Alla Kar
WHERE YOU ARE by Alla Kar
All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Swoon Romance. Swoon Romance and its related logo are registered trademarks of Georgia McBride Media Group, LLC.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Published by Swoon Romance
Cover designed by Najla Qamber
To those with a haunted past. Yesterday is history.
“Right from the start, you were a thief, you stole my heart,
And I your willing victim.” — Pink
Where You Are
Alla Kar
Chapter One
Laney
“And there will be a time, you’ll see.
With no more tears.
And love will not break your heart
but dismiss your fears.” — Mumford & Sons
Cold coffee.
Is there anything worse? Staring down into my owl coffee mug, the cool brown liquid gawks up at me in mock humor. The cord is lying on the counter beside the pot, not plugged into the wall where it was last night. Instead, Heather’s—my looks-obsessed roommate—straightener is plugged in. What’s the point of having a timed coffeepot if it’s unplugged every morning before you get a chance to use it? I grit my teeth and blow my bangs from my forehead.
I snatch the cord from the plug-in and toss the straightener on her bed. Hopefully, she’ll get the point. Instead of pouring the coffee down our sink, I sip on it. Hell shall freeze over before I go a morning without my coffee. Hell frozen-over wo
uld probably be hotter than my coffee right now. I grab my backpack, tie my blond hair into a messy bun, push up my thick, black-rim hipster glasses, and walk out of our dorm room.
I lock the door and head toward class, the aroma of perfumes swarming my nose. A few girls in towels race down the hall, screaming. Like clockwork, a tall muscular guy follows behind them, a huge I’m-going-to-get-some grin on his face. College is definitely a guy’s wet dream come true. Especially, in a co-ed dorm. He’ll have one of them pressed against their dorm room door tonight. They’re all so predictable.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s perfectly fine to date. But, doing it wisely is a completely different issue. Girls aren’t the smartest when it comes to dating. The three C’s that guys can’t stand are clinginess, crying, and clumsiness. I know it’s not possible to walk like a runway model twenty-four seven. And we all know girls tend to cry, especially around that time of the month. But it’s all about the game. You’ve got to play it right, so you can snag a great guy. It’s so easy to rope one in as long as you focus, and I don’t mean on his abs.
I’m almost clear of the hallway when I hear my name. I turn on my heel. Heather is frowning from the lounge doorway. Her long black hair is perfectly straightened. I hope she gets a medal for her hair today, because that would be the only reason I’d forgive her for unplugging my coffeepot.
She pouts her pink-coated lips and curls her finger for me to come closer. “She’s crying again.”
Damn it. I don’t have to ask. I know it’s Bethany and I know why she’s crying. It’s the same damn thing every week. Sighing, I walk into the lounge. A few girls surround her, patting her back and trying to calm her down. It’s not going to work, because she’ll be in the same position next week. She glances up over her long lashes and slender nose. Her strawberry blond hair is messy and hangs loosely down to her breasts. “I just—I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. It’s like every time he sees me coming, he goes the opposite direction. What do I do—” she breaks off in a fit of sobs.
I’m thinking of a million different ways to escape when Heather claps her hands loudly. “I know. Laney—why don’t you help her? You helped me with Todd. You got him to ask me out in two days. You could help Bethany.”
Oh, the agony. I don’t know if I could stand two minutes in a room alone with her. I give her a small fake smile and shrug. She looks like the damn cat off of Shrek, with her wide eyes and trembling bottom lip. If I say no I’ll look like a major bitch. “Who is it this ti—?” I stop myself.
She wipes her nose and tries to straighten her hair. I want to tell her that’s not going to work, she needs a brush, but I keep my mouth shut.
“Aiden Sims.”
And the heavens opened up and released the hottest male specimen to come to Jacksonville University. Well, that’s what he thinks anyway. Aiden is the playboy of our small university and he plays his Abercrombie-model good looks to his advantage. I grumble under my breath and pull my strap up my shoulder to keep it from falling.
“Have you had sex with him?”
A few of the hovering girls gasp. Oh, get over it. Bethany shakes her head. “No, we haven’t.”
“Great. That means you still have a chance to get him.”
“Wait,” a redheaded girl says from the corner of the room. “You’re telling me that if we’ve had sex with a guy, and he hasn’t committed, we’re screwed?”
I nod. “Pretty much. You’ve never heard why buy the cow when the milk is free?”
The redhead scoffs. “How do you know so much about this stuff, and who made you queen?”
Rawr. Someone hasn’t had their panties down lately. Heather raises her index finger and rolls her neck; that’s how I know she’s going to tell someone off. “She knows exactly what to do when it comes to getting guys. I’ve been with Todd for five months.”
Red shakes her head. “But why don’t you have a boyfriend then, Laney?”
A long, hard pain starts to build in the depth of my stomach. My eyes feel funny and my heartbeat is heavy in my chest. I will not think about him. No, I refuse. “No one has interested me yet.” Which is almost true, no one at this college has been worth my time. But that’s not the real reason. Red grabs her coffee and sways out of the room. Please, bring me back that coffee!
A tall brunette sitting in the corner clears her throat and leans over the worn lobby chair. “What else. I mean—any other advice?”
Everyone turns to look at me. I should totally charge for this. I shrug. “You can’t show that you’re too interested. No waiting for his text. He needs to be waiting for yours.” I take a sip of my cold coffee. “Don’t throw yourselves at him. Don’t take fifty million pictures on the second date. Make him work for it.”
Most of the girls nod slowly at me, waiting for more advice. I glance at the wall clock. I’m going to be so late.
“Laney,” Bethany asks, drawing my attention back to her. “Can you help me? I don’t know what move to make. Please.”
Can I help you, or will I help you? It’s not like my small job at the writing center takes up that much time. Hell, I have tons of free time. That’s exactly why I have a TBR list on my Kindle a mile long. I tug at my ponytail, then give Heather a defeated look. “Okay, I can help. You want to meet me tonight? We’ll go over our strategy.”
Bethany smiles. I think it’s the first one I’ve seen on her face since she moved in last semester. “Well, I have plans to go out tonight. Aiden is going to be there, if you want to meet up?”
Oh, no. I don’t like where this is going. I’m not a big partier. I’m twenty-two and couldn’t care less about getting wasted. I do it sometimes, but only for celebration or if I’m really bored. “Where are you guys meeting?”
Bethany stands up, adjusting her boobs in her shirt. No wonder guys flock to her, and no wonder they leave. She leaves nothing to the imagination. “The Loft down on King Street.” She places her hands on her slender hips. “You coming? I really want to start now.”
The black lines of mascara running down her face makes me sad. She is really desperate. Crying in the third-floor lounge isn’t the fix-it problem she was looking for and I can’t blame her. All the girls surrounding her right now would advise her to do the absolute wrong thing.
I huff. It’s just one night. “Okay, I’ll meet you there at nine.”
***
Since I was pulled into the lounge this morning, I am ten minutes late for class. Which is something I never am. I walk to my seat, conscious of the entire class watching me like I have a paper bag over my head and I’m waving a gun around.
“Ms. Scott, please tell me there is an excellent reason you’ve missed the first ten minutes of my class.” When college students tell you that college professors don’t call you out like in high school, they’re all a bunch of dirty liars. My professors live to embarrass people. I guess it’s all they have for fun in their old age. And Dr. Phillips is the worst. Definitely not the kind of professor I had in mind when I signed up for creative writing. I love to write short stories, but if I’m going to have to read them to the entire class, I don’t think I like writing them anymore.
“Big fire in my dorm room, everyone was running down the street in their underwear, screaming.” I plop my book bag down in my regular seat. A few of my classmates laugh under their breath.
Dr. Phillips gives me a tight-lipped grin. “Don’t be a smart-mouth, Laney. Sit down and open to page six eighty-six.”
I flip through my book until I land on one of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems. Great, now I have to listen to this depressing bullshit. I swear Dr. Phillips lives to bring his students down.
“Don’t worry, at least you missed the first ten minutes of the torture session,” Jacks says.
I laugh and turn around, handing him one of the Pop-Tarts that was shoved down into the depths of my bag. Jacks’ dorm room is right next to mine. He was the only reason I made it through the first week of school. Where he is nice-looking, tall, blond, a
nd has big brown eyes, he doesn’t act like a hormone-crazed, fifteen-year-old boy. Maybe it has something to do with being older and a senior.
“Thanks, bud. I would go hungry without you.” He takes a large bite and half of the Pop-Tart is already gone.
I shrug, then turn around in my seat, whispering, “I hear I’m hard to live without.”
Jacks laughs and taps my shoulder. I glance back. He holds up a piece of paper with an Ogre-looking guy that, I assume, is Dr. Phillips. He has a huge mustache with Coke-bottle glasses. Not to mention a huge erection. Okay, maybe he doesn’t act that much older.
I can’t help it; I laugh. Loudly. I snort, and that makes Jacks laugh, too. Soon I see a shadow fall over my desk. I glance back, trying my damnedest to give the best innocent look I can conjure up. It doesn’t work.
Dr. Phillips is sneering down at us. He reaches out and snatches the paper from Jacks. “Hmph.” He tears the paper into pieces and crosses his arms. I’m sure he is contemplating some diabolic plan to make our lives hell. “I need to see you both after class.”
Fuck. Narrowing my eyes, I flip Jacks the bird over my shoulder. I hear him chuckle and feel a hard slap on my shoulder.
Class goes by just as slow as it always does, and I know I heard someone snoring in the back row. When everyone starts to get up, I debate hiding behind the tall guy that sits in the back and escaping unnoticed. It doesn’t work. Dr. Phillips’ beady eyes are watching Jacks and me closely.
“Don’t worry, Laney. I got this,” Jacks says, gripping my elbow and leading me toward Dr. Phillips’ desk.
We stand in front of the desk, staring down at him. I feel like I’m in second grade again, when I called a girl in my class a cry baby and got in trouble.