by Layla Frost
My, how the other side lives.
And I’d let him drive into my dicey neighborhood to see my trashy apartment.
The entire street was McMansion after McMansion, and we’d parked in front of the biggest one. Strong bass, bright lights, and the steady strum of voices streamed out the propped open doorway.
Digging in my heels, I stopped us on the sidewalk. My eyes scanned the other beautiful houses. “Is someone going to call the cops over the noise?”
It wasn’t the idea of being arrested that freaked me out, it was the thought of shelling out bail money.
He laughed and shook his head. “Almost every house on the street is a sorority or frat. And most of them aren’t going to call because they’re the ones inside making the noise.”
My jaw dropped. “How do you all—” I cut myself off and cringed, realizing how rude the question was.
Brooks pointed behind us. “Campus is less than a block that way. About five years ago, a developer got the crazy idea that all the bigwigs and professors would want to live close to the school. They didn’t. Neither did anyone else. Living near a college is a mess of traffic, noise, and drunken drama. So rent is cheap, especially factoring in how many ways it’s split.”
Doubting his definition of cheap matched mine, I just nodded as we started walking again.
“Are those two doing it up?” I whispered to Brooks, tilting my head toward the couple who seemed to be going at it against a tree.
He didn’t bother looking over as he laughed. “Probably. Pre-gaming started around three.” His laughter cut off as he quickly added, “Not me. I wouldn’t drink before picking you up.”
Smiling, I gave his hand a squeeze. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Our pledges have to DD parties, but if you don’t feel comfortable with that, I’ll stay sober.”
“No, that’s cool.”
Especially since I have money for an Uber, just in case.
His smile grew into a grin. “Let’s grab you a drink then.”
Walking into the house was like strolling into the belly of an unknown beast. Music and conversation thrummed at equal volumes. There was a buzz of something in the air. A high that was beyond the one of normality I’d been chasing.
It was excitement and energy and lust and hormones and limitless possibilities.
Freedom.
“Everyone brings an assortment, so I’m not sure what’s in the coolers beyond PBR and Natty Ice.”
I grimaced.
He chuckled. “We’ve got a keg in the kitchen.” My face must’ve said it all for me again because his chuckle grew louder. “Keg it is.”
Releasing my hand, he wrapped his arm around me and guided me through the crush of people to the kitchen. He stopped us near the group of guys who’d taken position around the keg. “Eden, these are some of my brothers.”
I gave a little wave. “Hey, how’s it going?”
One of them lifted his chin. “You’re in my Internal Relations class, right? With Ms. Capti?”
It took me a second to place him.
His name is something odd.
Presidential.
Ford?
Carter?
Hoover?
“Nixon, right?” I asked.
“Nooo,” a drunk kid slurred. “In the house, he’s Yuppy.”
“That’s his fraternity nickname,” Brooks whispered to me.
I looked at him in disbelief. “Really?”
Nixon was the antithesis of a yuppy. Tall and built, his hair was cut close to his head, tattoos covered his arms, and his motorcycle boots were scuffed and worn.
At Brooks’ nod, I asked, “What’s your nickname?”
“Babblin’,” he muttered.
“Like babbling brook?”
“Like he can’t talk to hot chicks without babbling like an idiot,” the drunk kid put in.
My hand holding my empty cup went to Brooks’ abs as I smiled up at him. “That’s sweet.”
“You should’ve heard how nervous he was about talking to you,” drunk kid further shared, pissing me off. “And it took him long enough. He’s been asking about you since the first day of classes.”
“What’s your nickname?” I asked one of the guys, trying to switch the focus off Brooks.
Brooks’ muscles relaxed, but his arm around me tightened.
“I’m Holden, but in this house, I’m Bear.” Smiling, he stroked his thick beard and seemed purposefully nonchalant as he added, “‘Cause of the hair and the men.”
Ohhh.
I got what he was saying. One of the bouncers at Sinners was into big, burly guys and often said he was off to go bear hunting.
Holden’s chestnut hair was an overgrown mass, and he was over six feet of thick muscle. With his warm brown eyes, he looked like a teddy bear turned into a person.
Grinning, I nodded. “It fits.”
He held my eyes for a moment before grabbing the keg’s tap. “Want a drink?”
I handed him my cup.
As conversation flowed, I got to hear more hilarious stories and my sides hurt from laughing so hard. I no longer felt like an outsider. There were no more pangs of envy in my chest. The hollow pit in my stomach had been filled with beer, which gave me bubbly, weightless happiness.
It also gave me a full bladder.
Leaning into Brooks, I tipped my head up. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“I’ll show you,” he said before leading me to a surprisingly clean bathroom.
When I finished and opened the door, he was still waiting in the hall for me.
“Ready to head back down?” I asked.
“Come here.” Grabbing my hand, he gently tugged me down the hall and into a room before closing the door behind us.
I was about to ask what we were doing when he turned and covered my mouth with his.
Thank God he didn’t ask this time.
Brooks’ hand travelled slowly down to my ass. Squeezing it, he walked me backward until my legs hit something and I fell, landing with an oomph on a firm mattress.
Lowering himself to kiss me again, Brooks moved with me as I shifted up the bed, his body covering mine. His hands went slowly up under my sweater, skimming my stomach before hesitantly cupping my breast over my bra, his thumbs trailing the line where lace met flesh.
I knew he was taking his time and giving me the chance to stop him. As sweet as it was, it was also frustrating—and not in the good, teasing way.
Grabbing his belt loop, I yanked him closer, making us both moan when his hardness slammed between my legs.
There wasn’t sizzle and crackle necessarily, but there was heat and hormones and fun.
It was nice to have fun for once.
Finally, finally, he went faster, pulling my sweater off before I did the same with his shirt. He ran his lips and tongue along the curve of my breasts before trailing kisses up my neck. When he reached my mouth, his tongue swept in as his hands went to work between us, undoing my pants. His hand angled into my pants and panties. It was a tight fit, and I was certain he was about to dislocate his wrist, but I wasn’t about to stop him.
His finger hadn’t even grazed me when the door opened.
“Shit!” Brooks dropped to block me with his body.
“Shit! Sorry. Forget I was here!” I heard Holden apologize. “I was looking for… someone. Sorry. I didn’t see anything. I’m leaving.” He closed the door before yelling one last muffled, “Sorry!”
“I’m sorry,” Brooks apologized. I thought he was referring to the interruption, but he pulled away and handed me my sweater. “I didn’t mean for it to get that far. Don’t get me wrong, I want things to get that far, but not in the middle of a party. And not when we’ve been drinking. I mean, I want you any time, but—”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I know what you mean. Want to head back downstairs?” Standing, I fixed my pants before slipping my sweater on. When he didn’t respond, I looked to where he still sat on t
he edge of the bed. “Brooks?”
“I do, but… Shit. I can’t yet.”
It took me a second to notice his posture and the shirt he had strategically placed on his lap.
Oh!
Ohhhhhh.
“Do you wanna just hang out up here for a while?”
He shook his head. “You and me in my room alone isn’t going to help. Head downstairs, I’ll be right there.”
“Right. Okay.” Leaving the room, I stopped in the bathroom again to take a second to clear my head.
It was a good thing Holden had come in. Fueled by cheap beer, weightless happiness, and repressed hormones, I’d been about to add another tight knot to the mess that was my life.
With all the risks, expectations, and emotions, sex was messy—literally and figuratively. It was fun and pleasurable, but I was strung too tight to really enjoy it. To me, it was an exhausting hassle that always ended with someone having their feelings hurt.
And I didn’t want that for Brooks.
As I turned into the hallway to head downstairs, I almost bumped into a familiar looking brunette.
“Oops, sorry.” I moved to go around her.
“Hey, you’re in one of my classes, right? With Nixon?”
“Eden.”
“I’m Miranda. You’re here with Brooks, aren’t you?” she asked in a dramatic whisper that smelled like she’d drunk a whole liquor store mixed with only a single shot of fruit juice.
“Yup.”
“Are you guys a couple?”
What are we?
“We’re… friends?” I offered as I started walking.
She walked with me, continuing her interrogation. “You have Caine’s class with him, right?”
Caine. Everyone just calls him Caine except me. I call him Professor, and I’m the only student he’s a sucky professor to.
It’s ironic or coincidental or whatever the correct, un-Morrissette definition is.
I should just start calling him Caine like them.
My drunken internal dialogue meant I hadn’t answered her, but she didn’t seem to care.
“I wish I had that class,” she said. “Caine’s so gorgeous. One of my girlfriends is in his Tuesday-Thursday class, and she said he’s a sensitive, old soul.”
I snorted my disagreement.
Luckily, Miranda was so drunk and wrapped in her fantasy Caine, she didn’t notice. “He always goes out of his way for his students. She said he’s really gentle about it—”
“I’m gonna get a beer,” I interrupted when I couldn’t hold back my laughter.
There were a lot of things Professor Damien Caine was.
Gentle wasn’t one of them.
I was heading into the kitchen when the drunk kid—Tony, I was pretty sure someone had called him—moved in front of me. Based on the way he was swaying, he hadn’t slowed his drinking.
“Brooks done already? That’s disappointing for you.” The look in his eyes skeeved me out. “Wanna head up to my room, and I’ll make it up to you?”
“Ha, funny.” I forced a laugh and pretended he was joking when we both knew he wasn’t.
He offered the full cup he held. “Here, have a beer.”
“No thanks, I’m good.”
And not an idiot.
I didn’t drink unless I opened it myself or saw it come from the tap and handed directly to me.
I was saved from further conversation when Holden found me.
“There you are! And with no drink, that’s against house rules. Let’s go.” Putting his arm around me, he steered me to the kitchen and away from Tony. “Sorry about earlier.”
I didn’t share my gratitude at his perfectly timed interruption, and instead shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.”
We stood talking for a few minutes before he looked past me. He looked distracted as he muttered, “I’ll see you around, Eden.”
I turned and saw Brooks heading our way. Holden met him halfway there, stopping him to talk for a few moments.
When he made it to me, Brooks wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, having fun?”
“A lot.” My eyes narrowed on Holden scanning the packed living room. “Who’s Holden looking for?”
He shuffled us to the corner of the kitchen. “This is just between you and me, okay?” At my nod, he lowered his voice, “If I had to guess? Nixon.”
“Everything okay?”
“I think something happened between them this afternoon. Or it almost did. It’s been tense.”
“Is Nixon into guys, too?”
Even spending most of my time wrapped up in my own world, I’d heard the gossip. Nixon was into girls, as in, always in one. There’d been rumors about him with professors that’d seemed detailed enough to go beyond campus lore.
“Nixon is Nixon. He’s with a different chick all the time, but it doesn’t seem forced, like he’s overcompensating or trying to prove anything. But who knows how someone feels. He’s never said anything, and until he does, it isn’t my business.”
“Everyone seems cool with Holden, so…”
“He’s been out and open since day one of college. Probably since day one of his life. No one here cares, but he likes to ‘drop the gay bomb’ on new people and see how they react.” He shrugged. “Anyway, hopefully they get it handled before it gets out of control.”
Unable to hold it in, I yawned big and loud. “Sorry! That was rude.”
“It’s been a long day.” He tilted his head. “Wanna head out?”
No, that’s where the real world lives.
“Maybe one more beer?” I stalled.
“Coming right up.”
I was having so much fun talking with him, the one last beer turned into three. Adding in the few shots I’d knocked back between them, I was feeling no pain.
Unfortunately, the alcohol had only accentuated my exhaustion.
When my frequent yawns had basically turned into one continuous one, Brooks’ lips tipped up. “Ready to go?”
I nodded. “Sorry.”
“It’s all good.” He gave me a soft, melty kiss. “I’m just glad you took the night off.”
“Me, too.”
We headed toward the front door, but a commotion grabbed our attention.
Holden stormed down the stairs, his face thunderous.
“Dude, wait,” someone called from above.
Not looking anywhere but the door, Holden grunted, “I’m going out for the night.”
There was some pounding on the steps, and I looked up to see Nixon jogging down, a sheet wrapped around his waist. The whole dramatic picture became clearer when two girls followed—one wrapped in a blanket and the other unabashedly naked. Both were more focused on pulling Nixon back upstairs than on the audience they had.
“Looks like Holden found Nixon,” Brooks muttered, shaking his head as we walked outside. “Frankie, breathalyzer.”
The other guy used the breathalyzer himself before turning it so we could see the reading. “All good.”
“I’m coming with you to drive Eden home.” Brooks opened the door for me as he rattled off my address.
“What was that about?” I whispered when Brooks slid in next to me.
“At every party, a rotating handful of pledges have to DD. A few years ago, one of them was sneaking drinks the whole time. He crashed a few blocks away.”
“That’s awful. Was everyone okay?”
“Luckily, he was going slow and only hit a tree, but it could’ve been worse. After that, we instituted the breathalyzer rule. Any pledge on DD duty caught drinking is booted. It doesn’t matter if it’s half a beer or ten of them. If you can’t take one for your brothers, you have no place with us.”
“That’s really smart.”
He tried to appear outraged. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“You know what they say about the cute ones being all looks with no brains,” I teased, smiling up at him.
Brooks glanced toward the front seat. “Frankie,
no one likes a perv. Remember that.”
My laughter was cut short when Brooks unbuckled himself and then me. Pulling me to him, his lips crashed down on mine.
His hands spanned my ribs as he shifted me to straddle him. The kiss lost control as I ground against him.
It seemed like only a couple minutes had passed when Frankie spoke. “Not looking, not looking. But we’re at Eden’s.”
“Damn,” Brooks groaned, holding my hips to him for a second as he kissed me again. “Let’s go.”
“Thanks for the ride, Frankie.” I smiled and waved.
“Uh, yeah…” Frankie mumbled back.
“Don’t smile at the kid, Eden. He’ll be dazed for a week now.”
Following Brooks out of the backseat, I gave him my drunken version of a serious expression. “If you don’t want me to smile, don’t say sweet things.”
“Never.” He put his arm around me as he walked me into my building.
“I’d invite you up, but I didn’t check with my roommate,” I explained as we stopped in the lobby.
“That’s okay, I’ve gotta get back and see what’s going on with Nixon and Holden.”
“Thanks for inviting me tonight. It was more fun than I’ve had in… forever, I think.” I went up on my toes and kissed him quickly. “Get home safe.”
“I’ll see ya soon?”
“Definitely,” I answered over my shoulder as I walked toward the elevator.
Floating on beer bubbles and happiness, I didn’t think my feet touched the ground as I made my way up to my room and flopped into bed.
Maybe life can always be this fun and easy.
Even as I thought it, the ache in my stomach told me I was wrong.
So very wrong.
Chapter Seven
* * *
A Dictator is Neither Dick nor Tater
Eden
God, he’s a real dictator—emphasis on the dick.
Class was wrapping up, and I was furious.
The previous week, Professor Caine had assigned a paper that’d count for a large chunk of our grade. We’d been tasked with leading a fictitious nation. In the paper, we were to describe the nation before picking a leadership style. Would we rule by democracy, one built on socialist beliefs, a dictatorship, or something else entirely? Possibly some combination of them? Once we’d decided, we needed to explain the advantages and disadvantages of our choice. At the end, because there’s no such thing as a perfect government, we had to detail the causes of our inevitable downfall.