Top Secret

by Sarina Bowen

  But after a long day, followed by a long shift, topped off by mind-melting sex, exhaustion finally claims me, and I’m asleep before Keaton even replies.

  Not Sure of the Etiquette

  Keaton

  There’s a naked man sprawled on my bed.

  Cue: minor panic attack.

  Only minor, though, because I locked the door after myself last night. So unless one of our frat brothers decides to kick down the door, the chances of anyone discovering Luke Bailey in my bed are slim.

  I roll onto my side and prop an arm beneath my head. Luke’s facedown on the mattress, bare-assed, one muscular arm curled over the pillow he stole from me at some point in the night.

  My gaze skims over the sinewy lines of his ridiculous body. Now I understand why he’s so ripped—he spends his weekends dancing, toning his tight body and working those muscles hard. I feel a throb down south, and it’s more than just morning wood.

  Heat tickles my chest as I remember what we did last night. Luke’s powerful body crushing mine, his hips moving in the same sensual rhythm as when he danced for those screaming women. Only he wasn’t dancing. He was fucking me senseless.

  Okay.

  So I’m bisexual. I try that out in my head. Scientists like to label things. I’m a scientist. But the idea of labeling myself isn’t comfortable yet. Besides, the data set is still small. It was only last night. And that one other time. And the kiss.

  Plus all those sexts over the app…

  A sleepy groan interrupts my thoughts, and suddenly his eyes slit open. “Are you watching me sleep, Hayworth?” he mumbles. “Because that’s creepy.”

  “I’d be sleeping myself if some jackass didn’t lay claim to all the pillows.” I give him a pointed look.

  His expression grows more alert, and he looks at the pillow he’s been cuddling with, as if just realizing it’s there. “Ah. Sorry. Yeah, I’m a pillow thief. Blanket hog, too. Also…” He stops awkwardly, then sits up and rakes his fingers through his rumpled hair. “I don’t usually sleep with people. Not sure of the etiquette.”

  I’m not surprised to hear it. Sharing a bed with someone requires a level of trust that Luke Bailey doesn’t seem to feel toward many people. I’m pretty sure the only reason he crashed in my room was because he was dead-ass tired.

  “Anyway.” Before I can blink, he’s sliding off the mattress. “I need to shower and work on my finance interview.”

  My eyes hungrily devour his body as he rummages around for the towel he was wearing last night. Oh, fuck me. I want to get off with him again. “Are you working again tonight?” I ask thickly.

  “Yeah.” He wraps the towel around his waist, offering a stern look. “And don’t even think about showing up at the club.”

  “Why not? Can’t perform if someone you know is in the audience?”

  “Something like that.” He heads for the door. “Later, Hayworth.”

  “Wait.”

  He stops, but doesn’t turn around. I frown. He’s clearly eager to bounce, and I don’t like it. Is he freaked out about last night? Fuck, am I a bad lay? My list of sexual partners is a short one: Annika. And now Luke Bailey.

  Insecurity creeps into me. “Are we cool?” I ask the back of his head.

  He glances over his shoulder, nodding briskly. “Yeah. For sure.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Last night…it was good?”

  There’s a long pause. Luke’s Adam’s apple jumps as he swallows. When he speaks, his voice is slightly hoarse. “It was better than good,” he says before sliding out the door.

  I spend the rest of the morning alone in my room, trying to concentrate on the essay I’m writing for the Chile internship. It’s due Monday, and I’ve been struggling with it all week. I’m supposed to write about the unique intellectual gifts I can offer the scientific team.

  Like that’s not an intimidating topic. And today I can’t focus because my mind keeps drifting back to last night.

  I had sex with a man. And I’m not freaking out about it. Not much anyway. And why is that?

  Also, why do I care that Bailey skulked out of here within three seconds of waking up in my bed? It’s not like I expected us to cuddle and act all lovey-dovey. We barely know each other. Hell, it wasn’t long ago that I hated his guts.

  But it bothers me that he left, because I don’t know what it means. Are we one-and-done? He got my ass, and now he’s off in search of a new man—or woman—to hook up with? I wish I could talk to someone, pick their brain about this, but who on earth would I tell? I’m not confiding in Judd or any of my other teammates. And no way I’m seeking the advice of a frat brother.

  The one person I’d normally talk to is hooking up with some lacrosse player.

  My throat squeezes at the thought of Annika. She and I have known each other forever. She’s my best friend, and I can’t believe I won’t be able to talk to her anymore.

  Why the hell can’t you? a voice points out.

  I shift my gaze from my laptop to the iPhone at the edge of the desk. After a moment of hesitation, I grab the phone and pull up a familiar name. I hesitate again, then shoot off a text.

  Me: Hey. I know we’re broken up, but I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I hope that’s okay. I’m not trying to get back together. I just…miss my best friend.

  Not even thirty seconds pass before my phone rings. I can’t help but smile when I see Annika’s name.

  “Hey,” I say softly.

  “Hi,” comes her familiar voice. “I’m doing okay, and…I miss you too.”

  A wave of emotion flutters through me. “I hate not talking to you.”

  “I hate it too. I keep wanting to call or text you, but I’ve been trying to keep my distance, give you your space, you know?” She pauses. “I still think breaking up was the best decision for us, Keaton. But maybe I didn’t handle it in the most tactful way. I…” She sounds uncomfortable. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you’re bad in bed.”

  “I know you weren’t.”

  “But the spark was just…gone. For me, at least.”

  I swallow. I love Annika. I really do love her. But as much as I hate to admit it, the spark was gone for me too. Look at how hot Luke got me last night. Look at how desperate he made me feel. I don’t remember the last time that sex with Annika was that explosive.

  Possibly never. And what does that mean?

  “I understand,” I say gruffly. “And I meant what I wrote in that text. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend again, but I do want us to be friends.”

  “I would love that,” Annika says. Her voice catches, and I know her well enough to recognize the sound of her fighting tears. “I’m always going to love you, Keaton.”

  “Right back atcha. I—” I stop when I hear a muffled voice beyond my door. I think it’s Bailey’s, and I swear there was a note of anger in his tone. “I have to go, actually,” I tell my ex-girlfriend. “But maybe we can meet for coffee or lunch sometime this week?”

  “That sounds perfect,” she says happily. “I’ll text you my availability.”

  “Awesome. Later, babe.” I’m already walking out into the hall, toward Luke’s closed door. His voice is louder now, and he’s definitely pissed about something.

  “—sure he’ll turn up… No way… Come on, Mom. He’s a grown man, and he’s not my responsibility.” There’s a long pause. Then Luke releases a growl that has me taking a step back. “For fuck’s sake!”

  I probably shouldn’t be eavesdropping. He’s talking to his mother, and clearly there’s some animosity there. It’s none of my business.

  And yet I don’t leave.

  “Fine, okay? Fine,” Luke snaps. I hear him start stomping around in his room. “I’ll see if I can borrow a car…” Stomp stomp. “No, I can’t take my bike. The roads are covered in ice.” Stomp stomp. “I’ll see you soon. Just relax. Please. You’re stressing me out.”

  His footsteps thud toward the door, which flies open so fast I don’t have
time to retreat to my room. Luke’s eyes widen at the sight of me, before narrowing with displeasure.

  Busted. I shrug sheepishly. “Sorry for eavesdropping,” I tell him. “I heard yelling and wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

  “Well, it’s not,” he spits out, his movements jerky as he zips up his black hoodie. “Sorry, but I don’t have time for this. My asshole brother is AWOL and I was just guilt-tripped into tracking him down.”

  He stalks toward the door at the end of the hall, but I stop him before he reaches the stairs.

  “Bailey.”

  “I told you, Hayworth, I don’t have time—”

  “I heard you need a car,” I interrupt.

  He halts, throwing a wary look over his shoulder. “Yeah. I do.”

  I nod slowly. “All right. Let me grab my keys.”

  “Take a left here, if you wouldn’t mind,” Luke says from the passenger seat where he’s staring at his phone. “It’s just up here. If he’s not at Bix’s house, then I give up. We’ll just go back.”

  “Why is your mom so worried about your brother staying out all night?” I have to ask. “Is he underage?”

  Luke snorts. “He’s twenty-four. But the last time he didn’t come home, he was in jail. She worries about him being rearrested, I guess.”

  “Oh shit.” That was so not what I expected him to say.

  “Yeah, my brother is bad news. He and his friends are the reason I don’t live at home. Pull over there. This will just take a second.”

  Before I’ve even put the car in park, he’s jumped out. He crosses to a beat-up little green house with a sagging stoop.

  Luke knocks several times before someone finally opens the door. A bulky guy with a shaved head steps outside and gives Luke a shove.

  And I’m out of my car and walking toward them one second later.

  “Easy,” Luke says casually. He gives me a warning glance. Be cool. “Bix was just expressing his appreciation for getting dragged out of bed at two p.m. on a Saturday.”

  “Seriously,” the guy rasps.

  “He needs his beauty sleep,” Luke adds. The big dude lunges for him again, but Luke hops off the porch with a teasing smile.

  “You’re still a little punk, Baby Bailey.”

  “You know it. Can you tell Joe to call Mom, so I can get on with my fucking day?”

  “Sure, dude.” They high five, and I relax.

  But even as he disappears into the house, another man fills the doorway. He looks like an older, doughier Luke. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Nothing from you. Just call Mom so she’ll stop blowing up my phone.”

  “She’s a controlling bitch.”

  Luke throws up his hands. “She worries. You’re obviously fine. Just text the lady. It will take you two seconds.” He turns to leave the little porch.

  But his brother moves faster, grabbing Luke by the jacket. “I need four hundred bucks.”

  Luke laughs, but I can hear the tightness in it. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Did you work last night?” the goon asks.

  “Of course. And it’s all going to rent and buying the textbooks I couldn’t afford when the term started. You know how much those things cost? No wait, I guess you wouldn’t.”

  Luke’s brother literally throws him off the porch step. And I’m closing the distance between them a second later.

  “Oh look here!” The asshole brother finally notices me. “You must be the new boyfriend.”

  “Right,” Luke snaps. “Because every guy in my fraternity is my boy toy? I thought I was the only Bailey who watches gay porn. What’s your favorite channel on Hamster, bro?”

  Oh, hell. I brace myself.

  Sure enough, Joe pounces. But nimble Luke is already sidestepping him. “You little faggot,” Joe snarls, his hands in fists.

  “Hey!” I roar. “Fuck off already.”

  Joe turns on me, and I do the math on which punch to block. But he seems to think better of it, which means he has at least a small brain in that head. He’s a big guy, but so am I. And guess who’s in better shape?

  I’d flatten him in seconds.

  “Let’s go,” Luke says in a low voice. “This is stupid. Text Mom,” he says over his shoulder as he walks toward my car.

  “Bite me,” is his brother’s response.

  We get back in the car. Luke slumps in the seat and closes his eyes. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Can’t believe I took his bait.”

  I say nothing. Luke’s brother is clearly a turd with anger issues. I can’t even think of a funny animal comparison to cheer Luke up. There’s no animal kingdom model for self-destructive behavior.

  Sometimes animals are a whole lot smarter than humans.

  Luke’s phone rings, and he answers it immediately. “Ma, he’s fine. Just his usual asshole self. He crashed at Bix’s place. I saw him just now with my own eyes.”

  “Did he say…” I don’t quite catch the rest of his mother’s question.

  “He didn’t tell me anything. He asked me for money and threatened me and my friend. Fun times with Joe.”

  He shifts the phone and I hear her response. “Lukey, thank you! I’m so relieved.”

  “The point, Mom, is that I’m not doing this anymore. If Joe doesn’t come home, you call someone else to hunt him down.”

  He moves the phone away from his ear to hang up, but she’s still talking. “Luke, honey, Joe did our second job yesterday, hanging some vertical blinds.”

  “Okay?” he says, bringing it to his ear again. “That’s nice? What does that have to do with me?” He listens to more yapping with a pained expression on his face.

  I pause at a stop sign, because I’m turned around, and I need him to tell me how to get back to campus.

  “He didn’t say anything about the cash from the job.” Luke’s sigh is weary. “And if I had to guess, he drank it all. But you can take that up with Joe.”

  The next thing I hear from his phone is loud weeping. “They won’t deliver heating oil until I pay up, honey! The house is so cold!”

  “What?”

  “I owe the oil company and the money we made yesterday was supposed to pay them off.”

  Luke groans. “How much?”

  “I owe four fifty.”

  “I only have two hundred.”

  There’s more mom babble after that. I catch “good boy.” And “I love you.”

  He hangs up and then speaks in a flat voice without looking at me. “Can you turn right on Calhoun and then pull over? Last stop, I swear.”

  “Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. But I don’t feel calm. My dad is an asshole, but he’s trying to give me shit. Luke’s family are assholes who only want to bleed him dry.

  He pulls out his wallet, removing some cash. Then he leaps from the car the minute I stop.

  I watch him run up the steps of a squat little brick house. A woman comes to the door in a ratty bathrobe, a cigarette clamped between two fingers. She tries to wave him inside, but he shakes her off, thrusts the money into her hands and then closes the door.

  He’s back in the car a moment later. “Thanks,” he grunts.

  I wait.

  “Can we go now? This is already embarrassing enough.”

  “Any time. You just have to tell me how to get back to campus.”

  He turns to me quickly. “We’re, like, two miles away.” He points to a traffic light in the distance. “That’s College Street.”

  “Sorry, I never leave campus.” I pull away.

  “Why would you?” He sighs. “I wish I didn’t, either. And I’m never answering the phone again. Never.”

  Then he turns his head toward the window and doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the car ride.

  Embarrassed, I Guess

  Keaton

  Judd is in the living room when Bailey and I stride through the front door. His head jerks up, eyes widening and then narrowing at the sight of us. “Yo,” he says warily.

&nbs
p; “Yo,” I echo, kicking off my boots. “Where is everyone?” It’s Saturday afternoon, and the NFL playoffs are underway on the weekends now. The house should be packed.

  “At the bar,” Judd answers. “Everyone went out to watch the Patriots play the Chiefs.”

  “Why didn’t you go?”

  My buddy raises his beer can. “Dude. Why the fuck would I spend money on booze in a packed room where I can’t even hear the game, when I could drink here for free and actually get to pay attention to what’s happening?”

  Good point.

  My peripheral vision catches a flicker of movement, and next thing I know, Luke is heading up the stairs. “Gonna take a nap,” he mumbles without looking back.

  I’m tempted to hurry after him, but Judd is watching me. So I wander over to the couch instead, flopping down on the other end of it. I gesture to the six-pack on the coffee table. “You mind if I have one?”

  “Go ahead.”

  I grab a can and pop the tab. It’s only when the cool liquid slides down my throat that I realize I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, and so my first meal of the day is beer. As if on cue, my stomach rumbles angrily, prompting me to get up. “I’m hungry,” I announce. “Want anything from the kitchen?”

  “Nah. I’m good.” Judd’s gaze is fixed on the TV.

  After making two peanut butter and jam sandwiches, I’m back on the couch to scarf them down. But to be honest, I’m not too focused on the football game. The urge to sneak up to Luke Bailey’s room only grows stronger. I want to understand what the hell happened in town today. His brother’s clearly a little punk, and, from the sounds of it, a criminal. And his mom hitting him up for money like that? Savage.

  It makes sense that he joined this frat to escape his family. But I want to know more. I can’t believe I’ve shared a floor with the guy for more than a year, and I only just found out that he has an older brother. That he strips for a living. Hell, that he’s a business major. I’m a bit ashamed that I didn’t make a lick of effort to get to know the guy.

  Though in my defense, Bailey’s been an asshole to me since the day we met.