Staying On Top (Whitman University)

by Payne, Lyla

  My brain screamed that I didn’t care, but my body was having none of that. I wanted Sam, but it didn’t mean I could afford to be unrealistic about his past.

  I crossed my arms over my breasts in a lame attempt to hide my nakedness. My arms didn’t go nearly far enough, and before I could reach for my clothes, Sam tugged on my wrists.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t cover up.”

  “I want to.”

  “Why? What’s changed?”

  What had changed was that I could handle being naked and vulnerable during sex, but not without it. I figured on using a good portion of the money I’d earned working for my dad on a good therapist, but for today, prancing around naked in front of a guy I hadn’t just slept with made me feel as though hives were breaking out across my skin.

  I scratched at one on my shoulder, still covered, and eyed him. “Nothing.”

  “You are a funny little devil,” he murmured, then leaned forward and scooped me into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded as he strode easily back into his bedroom.

  “Bringing you to bed with me.”

  “But you just said …”

  “I said we couldn’t have sex. I’d be happy to pleasure you another way, if you’d like, or give you a T-shirt and tuck you in, if you prefer that. But I haven’t been able to sleep thinking of you in the other room, and how much better it would be if you were in here.”

  “You want to cuddle?” The idea did not amuse me in the slightest.

  “I mean, we’re going to be driving tomorrow, right? Don’t you want me to get some sleep?”

  “You’re a grown-up, Sam. I’m sure you manage to get to sleep alone all the time.” I grabbed a discarded T-shirt off the dresser, trying my best to ignore how it smelled like him, and slipped it over my head. “I’m not really into cuddling.”

  “The first option, then?” He winked and reached for me, frowning when I stepped out of range. “Blair, seriously. Why are you acting like this? I thought when we met sneaking into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night that it meant you were into it. Did I imagine that whole scene in the bathroom? Is this a dream? Am I in Inception?”

  He looked around like a suspicious animal, sniffing the air, and in spite of everything, I felt a smile tug at my lips. It made me feel more exposed than being naked but no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t go away.

  Sam leaned over and kissed my nose. “You’re really pretty when you smile. For a devil.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  That earned me an eyebrow raise. “Oh?”

  My face heated at the memory of myself undressed and writhing under his touch, his mouth. “Well, nothing you can give me tonight, anyway.”

  “Blair, I have many talents and despite what you seem to think, I’m not selfish.”

  “No. I mean … I’ll lie down, if it’s that big of a deal to you, but that’s it.”

  “You’re pretty fucked up, aren’t you.”

  It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t say it in a way that made me feel stupid or unwanted. I hated that he could see the broken pieces of me so easily but had no idea that my entire purpose here was to defraud him further.

  Then again, maybe he did. Sam had great instincts—he would have made a great con man in another life, one where he didn’t wear his thoughts on his face and let them tumble out of his mouth unchecked.

  He sat down on the bed, stretching in a way that displayed every single one of his abs. I looked away before I decided to borrow another girl’s personality and asked him to finish what he started, at least on me. It was safer on the other side of the bed.

  “Can I have a pair of shorts or something?”

  “This is the only pair I have. And since you wouldn’t let me bring anything other than a backpack, I’ve only got two pairs of underwear and they’re both dirty. Speaking of which, we should have asked Mari if we could do laundry.”

  That would have been smart, actually. I had one clean pair left but that was it.

  “Besides, I prefer you without it,” he whispered, lying back and tugging me toward him. His hands ran up my thighs and over my ass, giving it a light smack.

  “Okay, that’s enough touching,” I said, hoping my words distracted him from noticing my involuntary shiver.

  He didn’t protest at the distance I put between us, the smile on his face palpable in the dark room.

  “I don’t want anything from you other than sex,” I clarified after several moments of silence. Guilt burned in my blood, insisting that he hear those words, that he understood. That when this was over he couldn’t accuse me of promising things I couldn’t deliver?

  Even if it wasn’t true. It was the only way to prove to myself that the two things—the money and the pleasure—were not connected.

  “I don’t even like you, devil girl. Remember?” His voice was quiet, blurred around the edges as though he was nearly asleep, or maybe he didn’t quite know what to make of this situation. This conversation. “Maybe I have a hankering for some good hate sex.”

  It killed me that I couldn’t sniff out the reason behind his tone. Reading people came naturally, but Sam turned the tables. He sensed things about me, but I was in the dark about how to win more than his attraction.

  “You promise?” I rolled over to face him, wondering if his expression would help. “Not even a little?”

  “Hell, no. You’re a pain in the ass.”

  I didn’t learn anything from his face, because the words trailed off as he fell asleep, his pinky finger twitching against mine. But that didn’t stop me from watching him for a long, long time.

  *

  I woke up when the first light of dawn peered between the wooden-slat blinds. Sam’s deep, steady breathing almost lulled me back to sleep, but the idea of living a half-naked, awkward morning-after-not-sex scene didn’t appeal to me.

  The memory of last night in the bathroom embarrassed me more than it probably should, more than it would embarrass girls such as Audra or Ruby, girls who had a healthy worldview about sex. Then again, they hadn’t spent their lives developing the inability to trust other people, and that couldn’t be fixed today. Avoidance it was.

  I inched my way out of bed, lifting Sam’s heavy arm, which had somehow found its way across my belly in the middle of the night. He sighed and shifted, then rolled over and settled back into a light snore.

  The empty space of my room both welcomed and mocked me. It couldn’t be normal, to feel better able to breathe here than in bed with a super-sexy, smart, flirty millionaire.

  Sam might be the most normal person I’d ever met, but nothing in my nineteen years had been average. That fact used to give me perverse pleasure, but not anymore. Normal had started to intrigue me. Maybe because it would always elude me.

  I stripped off Sam’s shirt and tossed it on the floor, then threw my own dirty clothes on top of the pile. In spite of not wanting to wake him, it didn’t seem nice to go find a washing machine without taking his things along.

  He didn’t move a muscle while I grabbed the handful of clothes from his backpack and the pair of discarded underwear in front of the closet. Marija would have to deal with me in a sheet, because there wasn’t anything to put on in the meantime except my last pair of clean underwear.

  The floor in the hallway and on the stairs chilled the soles of my feet. The first thing I saw at the bottom was Marija, sitting on her beige love seat with a newspaper and a cup of coffee.

  I cleared my throat and she looked up, prettier than anyone had a right to be at sunrise. A stab of jealousy went through me, hot and unexpected, and totally stupid since all she’d done was be beautiful—not her fault.

  “Good morning, Blair.” Her sharp gaze dropped to the clothes in my arms. “Laundry?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  She set her steaming coffee on the end table and unfolded her long legs, getting gracefully to her feet. “I can take them.”

 
I hugged the stinky garments to my chest without thinking. “No, I’ll do it. Just show me where. Or tell me. You don’t have to get up.”

  “I’m already up,” she said with a bemused smile. “And I really don’t mind.”

  “Okay. Fine.”

  Marija led the way through the kitchen and into a mudroom, where a sleek, modern set of appliances waited with open lids.

  “Thanks.”

  I expected her to leave when I set about the business of adding soap and setting the machine, but she leaned against the door frame and watched me. And blocked my only exit.

  “You don’t like to let people help you, do you?”

  “It’s not that.” Marija didn’t respond to my obvious lie, but her continued stare drove an uncomfortable knot between my shoulders. “I’m used to taking care of myself, that’s all.”

  “You’re different than Sam’s usual girl. He’s easygoing and he attracts the same. Easy in, easy out. No muss, no fuss.” She cocked her head. “You’re definitely fuss, Blair. But if you muss him, you’ll have to deal with me. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it smells bad. He’s a good guy—a little too much so, probably.”

  “I’m not Sam’s girl, so I guess you don’t have to worry.”

  “Hmm. We’ll see.”

  She wandered off, leaving me a ball of tension. I finished dumping in soap and set the dial to the shortest wash possible. When I made my way back to the living room, I found her at the foot of the stairs, two piles of clothes in her hands.

  “Here. One for you, one for him. There will be breakfast in the kitchen in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.” It was hard enough for me to get out that one word, so I didn’t try for any more.

  Marija wasn’t unique—others along the way had sensed something off about me or my story, or my dad, and we’d had to bail on that con and find another. Some people were gifted with greater intuition than others, for sure, the same way some people sensed ghosts or whatever. Like an extra sense, or at least a super-honed bullshit meter.

  We would be gone soon, but it wouldn’t stop her from warning Sam.

  I tossed the clothes on the bed in my room, wishing I could hide under that too-soft pile of bedding until this entire situation melted away. The sound of running water snuck under the bathroom door, signaling Sam indulging in a second shower, which hadn’t been part of the plan. I walked over and tapped on the door, then tried the knob when he didn’t respond, cracking the door just far enough to make sure I wasn’t going to see anything I didn’t … well, not that I didn’t want to, but that I shouldn’t assume I could.

  “Sam?” Despite my best efforts, my eye wandered to the half-steamed mirror, my breath catching at the sight of his naked body though the all-glass shower.

  “Yeah?” he shouted back, not pausing in his soaping pattern.

  “I’m leaving clean clothes on the counter for you, and Marija says there’s breakfast.”

  “Okay, I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulder at the mirror and caught me staring. “Unless you want to join me.”

  I backed up and shut the door without answering. My mouth had dried and my gut twisted at the mere thought of touching him; I had to get farther away. Marija’s clothes fit me pretty well, if they were hers and not just extras—rich people always seemed to have some laying around—but the yoga pants were a little bit long.

  The socks warmed my toes, though, and the hooded sweater eased the chill bumps on my arms. By the time I slid into a chair in the empty kitchen and grabbed a croissant and a slice of bacon, my nerves had settled. When Sam appeared a few minutes later, hair damp and smelling freshly washed, my heart gave a couple of quick thuds before easing back into a steady beat.

  There. I could be in the same room with him and not jump his bones. Mind over matter. In fact, I thought as he poured a cup of coffee and sat across from me, we should get to the business at hand.

  “We might as well run over to my dad’s Belgrade house while the clothes are washing. Then we can get out of here as soon as we’re done.”

  He eyed me over a piece of toast. “If your dad’s not there, you mean.”

  “Of course,” I covered smoothly, sipping my own coffee. “Maybe today will be the end of the journey. You never know.”

  “I think I’d be sad if it was.”

  I looked up to find a strange expression in his eyes—a little bit of sorrow, some of the thrumming lust that had become familiar, and something else harder to pin down.

  “Why? You don’t want your money back?”

  He sighed and sat back, the chair popping under his weight. “No, I want my money back. You ready?”

  Going out in public in yoga pants wasn’t something I did off campus, but what the hell. I didn’t know anyone in Belgrade, and it was early. Hopefully the Serbian people weren’t judgy as far as fashion went. “Sure.”

  “Let me get my shoes on and see which car Marija wants us to take.”

  Of course she had more than one spare. Why wouldn’t she?

  I waited in the living room, pretending not to care that Sam and Marija talked too softly in the next room for me to overhear. When they emerged, he had a frown on his face that reinfected me with worry, and she had a fire in her eyes that made me tired.

  “Well?”

  “You two can take the black Mercedes. My parents are in Monaco for the month, and I typically take the Jag when I need to drive myself.”

  “Thank you,” I managed again. It seemed to be the best I could do when it came to acknowledging her hospitality, especially since she so obviously wished that I didn’t come as part of Sam’s unexpected visit to Serbia.

  Marija gave him one last pointed look, then jerked her head toward the kitchen. “Garage is through the laundry room. Keys are in it.”

  Sam leaned over and pressed a kiss to her head. “Thanks, Mari. We’ll bring it back safe and sound.”

  She nodded, leaning into his lips for a second too long. “I might be out at a meeting this afternoon. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, or the staff can prepare lunch.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to snap that we could make our own lunch, and that we would be gone before mooching another meal, but I couldn’t figure out why. She knew that Sam wasn’t used to preparing meals. I assumed Sam dined out, ate room service, or took advantage of spreads at his events. Dad and I had a cook before I went to college, and even though the dining hall left something to be desired, it sufficed.

  We left through the laundry room, where someone had moved our clothes from the washing machine to the dryer, stepping into the garage. It had an air of disuse, of cleanliness, that didn’t match up with my mental image of such a place, and the black Mercedes gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows on the doors.

  It smelled new, and the leather of the passenger seat was shiny and stiff under my legs. Sam and I clicked our seat belts into place at the same time, and he ran his fingers over the sun visor until he found the opener and the garage door rumbled up behind us. Dust motes trembled in the blast of sunshine as we backed out into the day, still not speaking.

  Instead of thinking about how Marija’s helpfulness irritated me, I pulled up a map to the old Belgrade mansion on my phone, then hit “start” on the navigation app.

  “It’s down on the shore of the Danube,” I said as it pulled up directions. “Doesn’t look like far.”

  He paused at the end of the driveway, squinting into the sun. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and breath went in his nose, then blew out his mouth.

  The picture of nerves, or anger, made me cold. The idea that Marija had voiced her suspicions or, worse, done some digging and found out more about my dad and my life, throbbed in the base of my skull.

  “Why are you being so cold to Mari when she’s helping us?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Blair, you are. If I didn’t know better, I’d say
you were jealous. But you’ve made it very clear that you have only limited interest in me, and she’s my friend. She’s doing us a favor. Stop treating her like she’s some kind of insect buzzing around your face.”

  The quiet force of his request hit me square in the chest. It swelled the shame and guilt I’d acquired over the past week so big that it was hard to swallow. He was right. There was no reason to be bitter with Marija just because she’d come unwittingly into the landscape of my con. It happened all the time. I had to roll with it or risk making Sam more suspicious than he already was.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll be nicer to her.” I swallowed, finally, and managed to choke down enough of my pride to say what needed to be said. “I guess I’ve been getting used to having you to myself, that’s all. It felt strange having someone else around.”

  “But you’re not jealous.” He glanced over at me, eyes holding mine.

  “Why would I be jealous? Are you guys a thing?”

  He shook his head. “Not for a long time, and never seriously. She’s a good girl. Lots of fun, super loyal. Great instincts. Doesn’t trust you, though.”

  There it was—the bomb I’d been waiting for since he’d stopped driving. Marija had voiced her suspicions to him while they were on their own. The part of me that knew how special it was to have caring, protective friends respected her. The rest of me, which was trying to accomplish something specific, wanted to tear her hair out for making my job even harder.

  “She said as much. Very protective of you, for a never-serious fling.”

  He shrugged again. “The tour’s an interesting place, Blair. Its own kind of life.”

  When more seconds ticked past without him stepping on the gas, my palms started to sweat. It felt like some kind of crossroads, here, as though he was waiting on me to say something, to share something, to defend myself against Marija’s accusations. If he started to trust her instead of me, I might as well go home and wait for whatever retribution my father had planned.

  I took a deep breath and found a truth stuck to the side of my heart. Peeling it away cost me, but it would be worth it if it made Sam feel better. “I know about living inside a bubble, Sam. Inside a life that people think they understand. I grew up that way. My neighbors, my teachers, the kids at school … they saw Blair Paddington in her Upper East Side penthouse, with her big-time accountant father and full-time staff and thought that, despite the lack of a mother, my life must be better than the average. They had no idea that my nights and weekends were spent swindling people out of their fortunes with my toothless fourth-grade smile. That my dad looked at my innocent little-girl face and only saw what he could gain by using it.”