Unfriended: A Geek and Stud Romance (Love in New Highland Book 1)

by Deana Farrady

  Asher: Kay, if she were seven feet tall, that would bring her chest about here…and that means she could kneel…ayup, that's a yes.

  Charis: You goof, I thought you were drinking plain cola. You're totally wasted, Ash. Hey, what are you doing?

  Asher: Sorry. Thought you were somebody else for a second.

  Charis: You mean Aura, don't you? Like you could ever mistake us! Look, you're not driving, are you, because you're not only drunk, I think you're having hallucinations.

  Asher: I'm not drunk. I just pulled three all-nighters. This soda's supposed to have triple the caffeine. I don't think it's working.

  Charis: Whatever, you're falling down. Why don't you crash here?

  Asher: Bad idea, Sloane. You don't want me on your couch. I might…

  Charis: What? You're mumbling, I can't hear you. You'll…what?

  Asher: Walk. I said I'll walk. Home. I'll walk home…

  Asher

  WHENEVER I WASN'T WORKING over the next few days, I was chasing down Charis.

  From her monosyllabic replies to my texts, emails, invites, and calls—listen, a desperate man can't pick and choose his mode of communication—I got the strong impression it wasn't exam week keeping her away. By Day Four, I had no choice but to admit I'd screwed up.

  I didn't figure it out on my own. I couldn't ask any of my tribe for advice, including Joel, who I consider a powerful Pussy Whisperer. They all knew Charis on her own terms and she might not appreciate having her business discussed.

  So I went online and posted anonymously in a well-trafficked forum.

  Good stuff there. Turns out my innocent words could possibly be interpreted as demanding complete and total perfection from a woman.

  False. All women had issues. Charis was allowed to have issues.

  Fuck, I had issues—it seemed like more each day. I was miserable. I was trying to give Karl a stroke on the squash court and eating a half pound of bulk chocolate at a sitting. I really feel that only chocolate and The Brady Bunch were keeping me alive.

  So she could have all the issues she wanted.

  If she'd only talk to me about them…

  One issue I already knew about: our age discrepancy. Solution: Show her I was all grown up. I looked forward to that.

  Issue Number 2: Her lack of sexual confidence. The more I thought about it, the surer I was that Sloane was not as sexually experienced as most women her age. She seemed virtually unaware of her power. Big tell: None of the times I'd kissed her had I ever caught her looking south to see if I was hard.

  Plus, when I'd held her close, she'd seemed upset at her body's response, shy even. From that I could deduce that the famous boyfriend I'd heard tell of from her undergraduate years was at best a lameass, at worst a crime against womanhood.

  All of that, solvable.

  Oh, and by the way. Time spent pondering how to get Charis to open her body to me? Shitloads.

  Time spent moping about Aura?

  Zero.

  In a flash of inspiration, I decided to inform her of this salient fact. I grabbed for my phone and tapped out a text.

  Asher: Just in case you were wondering how depressed I am about Aura…that would be none. I'm none depressed.

  To my delight, I got more than the usual yes/no response.

  Charis: Maybe you're too numb to realize the truth.

  Asher: I'm not numb. I'm the happiest I've been in years. Except for missing you.

  Charis: You're too numb to know you're numb.

  Asher: I call bull.

  Charis: Numbness by definition means insensitivity. You obviously cannot be sensitive to your insensitivity.

  Asher: Don't mess with me, woman.

  Charis: Okay, you got me. Freud used basically that same argument BTW. He had this theory that every dream was secretly about wish fulfillment. This chick came to him with a dream that totally wasn't and said "interpret this up your ass" and Freud said "dude, ha, your wish was to prove me wrong."

  Asher: Is this how you teach your classes? I have to sit in on one.

  Charis: You are not invited to sit in on one of my classes.

  Asher: Is that because you're afraid those tits of yours will start poking out if I'm there?

  I got no response. Total electronic silence. Well, that's okay. I'd crossed a line. I'd pulled out the T word with her. I was prepared for fallout.

  It gave me an idea, though. Forget seeing her in person for now. I'd make my case by phone.

  At lunchtime Sunday, I sent her another text.

  Asher: Guess what? Didn't think about Aura once all weekend. Well not until now.

  Charis: I'm busy.

  Asher: I'll wait.

  Asher: Waiting.

  Asher: Still waiting.

  Charis: What do you want, Norrell?

  Asher: Not Aura, that's for sure. Snort.

  Charis: Glad to hear it.

  Asher: So you trust me now when I say I'm over her?

  Charis: I didn't say that.

  Asher: Hey, ask me that question again, Sloane. The one you just asked.

  Charis: What do you want?

  Asher: Yeah, that one.

  Charis: WHAT DO YOU WANT?

  Asher: Since you ask, baby, I want to see you without a stitch of clothing on.

  Asher: You there?

  Charis: You have to stop this.

  Asher: Stop what?

  Charis: Saying suggestive things. You called me baby.

  Asher: That's not all I said.

  Asher: Come on, I know you're there.

  Charis: Asher, I have three words for you.

  Asher: Hit me.

  Charis: Four. Years. Older.

  Asher: Wow, you're right. When I'm your age, I'll be four years older. Very cool. I can't wait to catch up.

  Asher: In the meantime, I'll just kiss you.

  Asher: And take off all your clothes.

  Asher: And look at every inch of you.

  Charis: And what happened to a 100% platonic friendship? Huh?

  Asher: Platonic is so yesterday.

  Charis: So you want to change things up because, what, you're bored?

  Asher: Shit no. I want you. You. And fuck if it isn't mutual.

  I fisted my hands in frustration. There was no way to tell her by text how much more than "want" it was.

  I rang her number.

  She wouldn't pick up.

  Back to the texting board, then.

  I let the silence continue until dinner time. I held off my next text until I'd drunk my coffee. Then I stretched out in bed with my phone. Yeah, I was nude. Yeah, the thought of talking to Sloane while I was nude was a huge erection builder.

  Asher: Let's do this on video.

  I was 99.9 percent sure she wouldn't be able to resist answering.

  Yup. She replied within the minute.

  Charis: Do what on video?

  Asher: Talk

  Charis: Let's not!!!

  Asher: Why? Are you naked right now?

  Charis: Sigh. Are you still drunk?

  Asher: No. I haven't been drunk since last week with you. Why did you assume that? You know I'm not a heavy drinker.

  Charis: Well the things you've been saying have been pretty out there.

  Asher: You think I need to be drunk to imagine what your tits look like?

  Charis: I can't believe you actually used that word with me again.

  It was the closest acknowledgement she'd given me to one of my dirty texts.

  I grinned.

  Gotcha. Flirtation game, round 1, begin.

  I almost pitied her. I'd never really flirted with her. She had no idea what I could do. She was so going to lose.

  Asher: Just for you, I'll call them titties.

  Charis: You are being utterly ridiculous.

  Asher: Did you really mean to write udderly there?

  Charis: Gag

  Asher: Okay, that was childish I admit. I will now act my age. So Char, do you ever wonder how big m
y cock is?

  Charis: Asher!!!!!!!!!

  Asher: Nope. Bigger!

  Charis: I can't believe I'm even replying to you now.

  Asher: Why of course I'll elaborate. You know those charming phallic-shaped battery-operated toys women get off on?

  Asher: Hello? Hello? Am I talking to myself?

  Charis: All right. I'm here. What. Now.

  Asher: As I was saying. Let's discuss dildos for a minute. They're shaped like a dick, right?

  Charis: We can assume so for the sake of argument. And?

  Asher: The super jumbo ones are mere peanuts to my cock.

  Charis: Peanuts to your penis in fact.

  Asher: True dat.

  Charis: I see.

  Asher: Do you? I'm not so sure.

  Charis: What am I missing exactly?

  Asher: Just that my penis be much, much, much, much larger. Much more powerful. Much more pleasurable.

  Asher: Hello…

  Asher: Rightyo, to make sure you were paying attention, Sloane, how many muches was that, total?

  Asher: Young lady?

  Charis: I can't think of a single thing to say here. I'm a complete blank.

  Charis: Wait. Who are you and what have you done with my friend Mel's kid brother?

  Asher: Ah. You're understandably awed by what you've learned.

  Charis: I guess I am.

  Asher: So I told you about myself. Please proceed with your turn.

  Charis: My turn?

  Asher: Pussy description.

  Charis: Right. This ends here.

  Asher: Fuck, Char. You won't take pity on me? I saw you in your night shirt. I saw your pretty red panties.

  Charis: TMI. That is so embarrassing.

  Asher: Not your fault. I was the filthy slime that lifted your leg.

  Asher: I wanted to push your panties aside and look at you.

  Asher: I've been going crazy wondering if you're curly or straight down there. Curly? Straight. Curly? Straight.

  Asher: Will you like it when I pet you?

  Asher: Do you like coming as much as you like eating? I want to watch your face when the big O hits you.

  Asher: Very important question: How wide can you get your legs apart? Because I can get pretty acrobatic.

  Asher: Also will you hold up your breasts for me?

  Asher: They're little but you'd be so cute offering them to me. It's the thought that counts, not the size of the gift.

  Asher: I'm naked here, BTW.

  Charis: WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?

  Asher: I know this one. *hand flies up* I want you bad, Sloane.

  Charis: Damn you Asher I'm ENGAGED TO YOUR BROTHER.

  Asher: Only until I talk you out of it. Then it's open house night and I'll be the first in with the teacher.

  The wait was long enough after that corny line to make me nervous, but finally she responded.

  Charis: I'm not going to leave Karl in the lurch.

  Asher: Marrying for pity now. Awesome idea.

  Charis: Just tell me one thing. Did you sext like this with Aura?

  Asher: Not like this. Why?

  Charis: Because I think deep down you're using me as a substitute for her.

  Asher: If anything you've got it backwards.

  Asher: I fucked Aura every way there is. I tied her up, spanked her, fucked her from on top, sideways, behind, upside down.

  Asher: It was SEX. For a long time it was nothing more. That's what sucked about it. Capice?

  Charis: Holy crap dude I didn't need to know all that.

  Asher: I'll happily do all that with you.

  Charis: That is supposed to appeal to me…why?

  Asher: Because we have a fucking good time together whatever we do. Sex would take it to a new level.

  Charis: Well so I have a good time with Karl. Maybe he and I will do all that when we're hitched. We'll go up a level.

  Asher: You said that.

  Asher: You actually said that to me. Now I get to imagine you and my brother

  Asher: FUCK NO

  Asher: Are you trying to make me berserk? Because that's not cool, no joke.

  Charis: Well I didn't want to know what you did with your girlfriend. I've spent years trying not to think about it. It's none of my business what you got up to with her.

  Asher: Ah sweetness.

  Charis: Don't call me that.

  Asher: Why not? It's a good word for you. Feels right.

  Asher: FYI, I never went to a family funeral with her. Or got lost in the Blue Mountains with her. Or hell just laughed with her.

  Charis: Not relevant. I was not your girlfriend. She was.

  Asher: And there in a nutshell is the problem. I fucked up.

  Charis: I won't argue with that.

  Asher: If it means anything, I don't want her. As in, I really, really don't want her.

  Charis: It doesn't. Mean anything. I'm engaged. And I'll believe it when I see it.

  Charis: Can I erase that last sentence?

  Charis: Crap, I now apparently have no morals. Merely by continuing this conversation, I, who teach philosophy, have no morals.

  Charis: This has been…interesting. I will even say tempting. You have no clue how sinfully tempting. But I can't do it. It's wrong on so many levels.

  Sinfully tempting?

  Oh, hell, yes. That settled it. Charis Sloane was mine.

  Asher: A problem easily solved. Break off the fucking engagement.

  Charis: Asher, I don't want to see you for a while.

  Wait, what?

  The fuck.

  I stared at her last text. Waited, but that was it. With a sick certainty in my gut, I knew there was no point in replying.

  I'd lost, and there wasn't going to be a Round 2.

  CHAPTER 15

  One Year Ago—The Bad Day

  Charis: I just realized something amazing.

  Asher: Yeah?

  Charis: You're my best friend.

  Asher: Took you a while.

  Charis: You know, it never occurred to me in a million years my bestie would turn out to be a dude. Wait, I didn't mean that like it sounded. I've always known you were naturally born with testicles that fully descended. I mean, oh, shit…

  Asher: Go on. Do. Go. On.

  Charis: I'm really serious. You're the best. Thanks for what you did yesterday, Asher.

  Asher: Not a problem. Everybody has some bad days.

  Charis: Yeah, well, I'm not used to locking the keys in my car, getting stood up, losing my wallet and knocking my skull on a garbage dumpster all in the same crappy twenty-four hours. You really came through, even though you were dragged from a most excellent date at Emmenders.

  Asher: You ponied up when Aura's bank account was hacked and she couldn't reach me. I still have to pay you back the two point six grand.

  Charis: Hey, that's right. Oh shit, tuition's coming up next month. Come on—hand it over while we remember.

  Asher: Char…

  Charis: Yeah?

  Asher: Nothing. Just…you're a kinda awesome best friend yourself.

  Charis

  SPRING BREAK WAS MY problem, that's all. I had nearly a week to kill. I knew I should drive down to Portland to see my parents, who were home for a change. Portland is where they'd semi-retired. Mom didn't perform anymore, but they gave classes, Mom in dance, Dad offering a leatherworking workshop. They're a couple of bohemian hippies, did I mention that?

  The idea was daunting, though. They'd been doing their artsy circuit for almost fifteen years. I was proud of their accomplishments. I guess.

  But going home means the Jenny and Adam Sloane Show, 24-7. You'll always find dozens of people hanging around, getting drunk, smoking weed, a few even popping uppers, and to be honest? It's exhausting.

  My idea of a good vacation is hanging out with Asher and maybe getting in some extra visits to the gym.

  Asher.

  Damn damn damn.

  All right, enough. My problem migh
t be bigger than spring break.

  I still tightened up inside every time I thought of him, which was about every five minutes.

  This whole thing with Asher going on this weird wooing-me trip was frying me. My emotions, my damnable body were out of control.

  So here's something most people don't know about me: I'm an emotional person. It's counterintuitive, I know. I'm not the type to go woe-is-me all the time and sob on people's shoulders. But I'm kind of fiery. I keep it from my students, of course, but behind my calm face I can get pretty angry or freaked out.

  Those texts he'd sent—I'd never had anybody do that to me. I was still discombobulated.

  It was entirely his fault that I couldn't concentrate on anything. The texts were why I lay here on the bed fully clothed midmorning Tuesday, my breasts aching and swollen, writhing around like a kitty-cat in heat.

  I mean, really, how pathetic can you get? What he'd said was completely inappropriate and had essentially morphed me into this nympho form. A cradle-robbing nympho, let's not forget that.

  Yesterday I frigging broke my vibrator. The silicone flaked off on me, I'd used it so hard.

  I'd ordered another one online within the hour, blushing like a virgin because I couldn't get his cocky "muches" out of my head.

  I jumped up from the bed and started pacing like a caged tigress. My phone rang half an hour later, while I was still wearing out the carpet, trapped with all this bottled-up emotional magma.

  Already I'd been to the gym and run around the block in the sleet. All I wanted to do was dash over to Asher's and yell, okay, you win, take me, Mr. Hotness, I'm yours if you really meant it, which I don't think you did, I think your brain is screwing with you, but take me anyway and then rip his clothes from him and drag him down to the floor and…

  Weak, weak Charis.

  It was Karl, wanting to come over.

  I grasped at the lifeline. "Sure."

  Karl is such a soothing presence in my life. Until recently, he'd always been the remote eldest Norrell brother, kind of a Greg Brady if Greg had been a bad boy.

  (Um, this is Asher's fault. Asher's always forcing me to watch his favorite show. The fact that I secretly catch episodes when he's not around means nothing. I can quit anytime.)