You would not believe the crap people clog my inbox with. Should I quit WB and head to Nashville to start my country music career? My boyfriend swears he’ll leave me if I do. What a dunce. Of course, you should follow your dream—after graduation. And might I kindly suggest you ditch the crusty boyfriend, too?
Next—I’m attracted to my best friend’s brother. Should I pursue this and risk ending a lifelong friendship? Ha! You and every other girl at Briggs. Is he hot? Of course, you should pursue this. I’m sure your bestie will get over it soon enough. And if it ends badly, she’ll probably help wipe away the tears, too.
I don’t bother juxtaposing my own life to that last mockery.
Next—I’m in an extracurricular club, and I’m crushing hard on the leader. Confession, I’ve slept with him more than once—but lately I can hardly get a hello. How can I get him to notice me again?
My heart stops cold. Why do I get a very distinct Miranda Smirnoff feel about this one? I know for a fact she’s bedded her way through Beta house. Why not Rush? Wait a minute… I distinctly remember her bragging about the fact she landed on his mattress on three different occasions. Triple ick. I guess everyone but me has bedded the aforementioned raunchy frat brat. My God, what do I say to her?
Here goes nothing—or better yet, something special tailor-made just for her.
How about you exit the club in question before he files a restraining order? Surely you can’t take a hint, so I’ll give you one. HE’S NOT INTERESTED!
It takes everything in me not to add Stay away from my man, and the thought alone has me freezing.
“Oh my God.” I shake my head as I stare out at my laptop, the words blurring into one dizzying spiral of nonsense. Rush is not my man. The sooner I buck up and accept the fact, the sooner I can end this tonsil hockey rally we have going on.
It’s all so dizzying, so overwhelming. Rush is not my anything. He belongs to Miranda—she said so herself. In fact, he’s probably with her now. Bleh. I hope she’s having a real leaky period. Is that wrong? I don’t think so. It’s not like I’m wishing she fell into a sinkhole, or got trampled by a wild pack of wolves, maybe even bitten once or twice in those nasty pink parts of hers she’s forever trying to please by way of my man.
I suck in a sharp breath. Oh my God. Did I just refer to Rush Sticks-His-Tongue-Down-My-Throat-Any-Time-He-Feels-Like-It Knight as my man—again?
GAH! Someone get a bucket of bleach so I can wash out my brain. Clearly, I’ve been tainted.
It’s like in a bizarre twist of fate I’ve been thrust into some invisible love triangle with Miranda Smirnoff of all people. Invisible being the operative word. I’d go as far as saying nonexistent, but that doesn’t seem right. Something is definitely happening, but what? And more importantly, why? And why am I sitting here in this stuffy room contemplating my life when I can be out there in the brisk fall air doing the same thing? A sudden burst of adrenaline hits me, inspiring me to change. I grab my purse and head out for the evening. I just need some fresh air. I just need to clear my head. I just need—
“Rush?” I stop cold as the elevator opens to the ground floor. The cool night air swoops in around me as I stare out at this six foot two gorgeous being who’s staring at me, horrified, as I just morphed into a semi and were about to flatten him like a pancake.
“Hey”—he reaches back and scratches his shoulder. There’s a boyish charm about him, and yet those heavily lidded bedroom eyes constantly demand that my hormones tend to him. “I was just heading up. Sunday around?”
“Nope.” I stride right past him, and he follows. “She’s going at it hot and heavy in some orgy-like study sesh. If you want to crash, I think she’s in the commons room.”
“Where are you headed?” He picks up his pace just to keep up.
“I don’t know,” I pant because the very person I’m running from happens to be by my side.
“You hungry?”
“Not really.” My stomach growls on cue as if to protest.
“How about a movie? I heard Revenge of the Dolls came out yesterday.”
I pause to glower at him properly. “I sleep with a stuffed donkey and a nightlight. Do I sound like the kind of girl who wants to have nightmares about demon-possessed dolls for the rest of my life?”
Rush chuckles as we begin the race toward the parking lot again. “So how about something else? Lady’s choice. I’ll buy the popcorn. It’s better than hitting Beta house. That’s never been healthy for me.”
I glance back at Cutler Tower, and that ridiculous email from Miranda comes to mind. If I say no, he might make his way to Beta house. If he makes his way to Beta house, Randy Mandy might spike the trash can punch and land him horizontal in no time. Rush has a weak will when it comes to sluts.
I scowl over at him for a good long while. “Okay, but only because your general health is at stake. Beta house equals many drunk skanks, which most likely equals mileage on your mattress. For the safety of your blue balls, I’ll babysit you at the movies for a couple of hours. Your car or mine?” I dangle my keys at him.
That goofy grin of his slides off his face. “Mine. You’ve got a bite to you tonight, and I’m guessing that translates into road rage. Are you always so pissed, or is that just something you reserve for me, sweetheart?”
“Ha!” I bark out a laugh as we head for his truck. “It’s all you, baby. Oh, how you piss me off. Let me count the ways.”
I belt out smart-aleck remarks all the way to the Hollow Brook Cineplex, and Rush bounces them right back at me like a master sniper. By the time I get out of the truck and into the theater, I feel invigorated with the ninja level of sarcasm that was expertly lobbed for thirty minutes straight.
“You know I never thought I’d meet a guy who could keep up with me on an emotional level,” I say as we enter the throngs all clamoring for their right to see a Saturday night flick.
“I’m not keeping up.” He slings an arm around my shoulder. “I’m just treading with my head above water. You’ve got a lethal mouth, you know that?”
A line of heat sears over me from where his arm landed.
“It’s my gray matter that’s brimming with poison. My mouth is merely the vehicle to expressing my greatness.” Just as I’m about to laugh at the absurdity of my statement, I note the single file line strumming a mile long—and holy crap, why is it zigzagging back and forth in a demonic corral formation as if this were the line to get on the Matterhorn at Disneyland.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, backing away as if every single person in the vicinity just morphed into a Komodo dragon.
“Can’t do what? The Doll thing? There’s a new Pixar movie I’m sure your nocturnal wanderings will approve of. No nightmares, I promise.” He leads us to the gargantuan line, and my body spikes with heat. I can’t help but look at the melting pot of bodies all coagulating together in a tight knot of humanity. My God, what if I get into the thick of it and I pass out and die? That dizzying, earthshattering feeling rips through my body, and my skin begins to crawl. A nervous buzzing takes over, and it’s suddenly impossible for me to stand still in one spot.
“I can’t do this.” I look up at Rush, at those lips that have spent the last two months comforting me in ridiculously religious ways. “I’m sorry, Rush.” I cower a moment before taking a breath. “There’s something you should know about me.” I swallow hard as he leans in at complete attention. “I can’t stand in lines.” I shrug because I for one don’t quite get it myself. “I don’t have the ability. I swear, I used to. Once upon a time, I could stand in a line with the best of them. Long, short, it never occurred to me that one day I’d lose the ability.” My body slaps with heat, and the slight breeze from the passing crowd cools me. “It’s stupid. Trust me, I know. I just—” I look to the blooming bodies taking over the foyer of the Cineplex and wonder why in the hell anyone would want to stand in that hot mess. The more bodies that crowd around us, the more the room seems to pulsate. “I’m sorry. Maybe you
should stay. You can call somebody sane, and they can meet you here. Miranda Smirnoff maybe,” I belt out her name like an expletive. “I’ll Uber back to campus. I’m sorry I messed up your night.” I dart for the exit as every cell in my body screams for relief. The silence outside is deafening, and the frozen blast of air is more than welcome as I pause to catch my breath.
“Whoa”—Rush spins me toward him—“I don’t know what just happened there, but I think I kind of get it.” His left eye comes shy of winking. There’s a kindness, a softness to his features that I haven’t quite seen before. He’s telling me something with his intense gaze, and for the life of me I can’t figure it out. But I do know this. Right now, at this moment, everything is going to be okay. “How about we head back to my place?”
“A little Netflix and chill?” I glare at him for even implying it, and yet my girl parts just roused from their sexual stupor.
He inches his head back, feigning disbelief. “A little Netflix minus the chill. Boy, you really have your head in the gutter twenty-four seven, don’t you? I’m so chaste I’m practically a priest.” He gives a sly wink, implying he’s not.
“Yes, well, I’m a bit of a naughty nun myself. Maybe we can hit a fast food place before we land on your couch?”
“I like how you’re thinking. Tacos sound good?”
“Fine by me. Rumor has it, you buy them for all the pretty girls.” I bat my lashes up at him as we head for his truck.
Truthfully, tacos at Rush’s new place sounds just as frightening as standing in a line of any size.
But that’s one challenge I’ll gladly accept.
* * *
Rush buys all the tacos. Like really. Six bags of Taco Bell and a couple of slushy drinks with enough sugar in them to ensure a food coma. We plant ourselves on his leather sofa and kick off our shoes. Rush and I thumb through the Netflix menu until finally giving up while stuffing our faces with all things ground beef and cheese.
“So what’s with the line thing?” he asks between tacos, and I can’t get past the way the muscles in his jaw flex with his every bite. It’s a sad state of being when you’re openly lusting after someone solely based on their mastication skills. Okay, that’s a lie. There are a myriad of reasons I lust after Rush, and it sickens me to think about them.
“The line thing is inexplicable. Sort of like why does the universe exist, and why the Mustangs lost their last two away games. Actually, I can explain that last one. I wasn’t there. I’m sort of my brothers’ good luck charm.” I abandon my taco pursuit after a measly two and start sucking down my slushy in search of that ever-elusive brain freeze. I’ve yet to have one myself, and I basically think it’s a hoax someone dreamed up in order to trick the sheeple into believing in it. People are ridiculously easy to manipulate.
A sharp pain erupts in my forehead, and I slam my drink back onto the coffee table. “Brain freeze! Brain freeze! My God, it’s real!”
“Of course, it’s real.” He puts his food down and picks up his own slushy. “I’m not following your lead by the way. You’re supposed to take it easy with these things.” He takes a few simple sips. “See?”
“Mocker.”
“Now stop changing the subject. Tell me about the line thing. Is that why you freaked out at the fair that day?”
“Yes, it’s exactly why I freaked out. I have a line limit—less than three or I’m out. Believe me, I’ve abandoned full carts at the grocery store before. I didn’t buy my books at the student store for a week after everyone else. And forget about those long lines for the ladies’ room at ballgames. I’ve been known to hightail it back to my dorm if need be. I’ve memorized the location of every bathroom at Briggs as if it were a survival skill, and at this point, it basically is.” A breath catches in my throat. I’m pretty sure discussing your obsession with indoor plumbing does not a romantic evening make. Wait, that’s not what I’m looking for, is it? I mean, this is Rush.
Those lips of his call to me, and my thighs start to shake. Knox may have explicitly demanded that I stay away, and yes, maybe in my rebellion those very words backfired on my brother, but this—whatever this animal attraction is, I don’t think I can stop it. It’s as if I stepped onto a haunted merry-go-round after just one kiss, and now I’m too high off this dizzy feeling he gives me to ever want to leave.
Rush sets down his drink, his affect growing quickly serious. “Come here.” He pulls me over onto his lap, and it feels natural. It feels right. Rush is a god that I can’t stop worshipping, and according to my brother, he’s the devil himself. “I understand the line thing, Trix.”
“You d-do?” I’ll admit he’s stunned me. Heck, I don’t even understand the line thing.
“Yes.” He gives one long blink, and for a moment I fight the urge to kiss his eyelids. “When my mom died, I sort of went through something similar. I couldn’t be near a crowd. Amusement parks? Forget it. And believe me, my cousin Lex tried every trick in the book to cheer me up. For a long time, I’d see a crowd of people and I’d bolt.”
“Really?” My heart ratchets up right into my ears. “Did you find out what was wrong?” My God, Rush might just hold the answer to this nonsense that’s been brewing inside of me just this side of forever.
“Yup.” He presses his head back into the sofa, looking up at me with a forlorn look in his eyes. “My dad took me to a shrink, and she told me I had social anxiety.”
“Social anxiety.” I try the words out on my lips as my heart continues to pummel my chest. “So what changed? Is that why you started your pornographic conquests? My God, am I going to have to mount every available male on The Row just to rid myself of this social disorder? I’ll trade one disease for the next—anxiety for syphilis!”
His body rumbles with a laugh. “No. I promise you don’t have to do that. In fact, it’s a bit more complex and simple all at the same time. You just need to face your fear. You need to get in the longest, thickest line possible and dare the worst to happen.”
“The worst?”
“Yes, whatever it is you fear might happen to you in that line.”
“I’ll die.” I’m not sure how I know this—I just do.
“You won’t die. Trust me, you’re not talented enough to override your autonomic response system. At best, you’d pass out, and even then you’d still keep breathing. You’re basically rigged to live. It’s a fixed fight.” He gives my ribs a squeeze.
“There’s no way I can do that.” I shake my head at the thought of putting myself in that horrid situation. I would never in a million years seek a line and then bury myself in the center of it. It’s pure torture. Just the thought sends adrenaline racing through my veins.
“You’ll get over it.” He offers a sad smile. “It could take some time, though. I could test it out with you if you like?”
“No, thanks,” I’m quick to dismiss the offer. “So what happened to your mom?” Stupid, stupid me. Sunday and Rush share a mother. Of course, I know what happened to her. She died in a car wreck. I swear, each time I’m around this boy, I lose at least a dozen brain cells. Rush is detrimental to my intelligence, and if I had a few more brain cells, I’d run.
I bite down on my lip so hard I’d swear I taste blood. Mothers in general are not my favorite topic.
“I killed her.” He offers a sheepish grin that lasts less than three seconds. “She died in an accident on her way to pick me up from practice. I was still in elementary school. Way too young to lose your mom.” He offers the fireplace a sober glance. “But you’ve still got yours. Knox and Rex are forever talking about what a great family you guys have. I really envy that.”
“Well don’t. Have they mentioned the fact my mom went to prison, and then once she was released, sliced my family in two? Trust me, I’d gladly trade shoes with you.”
“Take that back.” He doesn't miss a beat. Rush went from listening attentively to actively pissed in less than two seconds, and I feel awful.
“I’m so sorry.” My hand sla
ps over my lips. “That was completely boneheaded of me. Of course, I’m lucky to still have both my parents.” My arms flare up with heat, and I can’t help but scratch them. I nod down at the newfound bumps forming. “It’s sort of a typical reaction whenever I talk about my mom. I guess one might say I’m allergic.”
Rush picks up my hand and kisses the back of it before offering a pained smile my way. “Let me guess. The social anxiety started around the time she went away?”
I pause a moment doing the anxiety-riddled math. “I guess it doesn’t take a genius, does it?” My body molds over his as if he were my favorite chair, and he is. I look up at his beautiful face and scratch at the dark scruff he’s sporting. “What are you doing with a mess like me? You didn’t have to kill a perfectly good Saturday night with a nut job. The girls are about to protest your reign of abstinence by way of staging a mass sexual assault. Prepare to be jumped by an entire gang of stiletto wearing vixens.”
“What?” He inches back and manages to look ten times more comely than should ever be legal. “You happen to be my favorite nut job. Besides, I’m not going back to where I was. Ironically, it wasn’t satisfying.”
I trace his lips with my finger as he speaks and laugh. “No girl worthy enough to tame the steed, huh? Maybe you’re a switch-hitter?”
“Nope. Not this boy.” He leans over and lands a soft kiss to my forehead, and my insides disintegrate into a boiling hot cauldron. What exactly is happening here? Lap sitting, forehead kisses? We must have wandered into that invisible zone that no longer exists once we hit the rest of the student population. Sadly, I think I like this reality best. “I’m pretty sure I’m still playing for the same team.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls. “I think what’s happened is, I’ve traded the masses for just one girl.”
Holy hell. I can’t breathe, think, or move. Did he just say what I think he did?
“Which girl is that?” Our body heat explodes, and suddenly it feels way too warm to be wearing a stitch of clothing.
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