by Nana Malone
She was beautiful. And he knew exactly how soft her skin was. How she tasted, but he hadn’t nearly had his fill of her. Never going to happen. He slammed his eyes shut. He considered removing her bra to make her more comfortable, but thought better of it. He yanked his old T-shirt down over her thick hair and helped her loop her arms through the right holes. When she was covered, he certainly breathed easier, but sweat popped on his brow as he glared at her logic-defying skinny jeans. Jesus, they were tight, hugging each curve like second skin. He laid her back on the bed and tried to steady his hands as he unsnapped the denim.
Tris tried to be helpful and raise her hips, but all her actions did was bring her sex directly toward his mouth Fuck. He could smell her. Hell, he was close enough to taste her.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat and tugged the jeans the rest of the way down then sat back on his heels to get them off her ankles. From that position, he averted his gaze and slipped her feet into the boxers before tugging them up her slim thighs.
Once she was dressed, he lay down next to her and called the campus locksmith.
He felt a little ridiculous since he had a key, but then she'd ask questions, and he still had a cover to maintain. While they waited, he watched her. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing wasn’t deep enough to indicate she was asleep or passed out. Her dark, thick lashes brushed her cheeks, and her hair fanned out around her on his bed.
Thanks to the mic he had in her room, he knew that she'd taken the time to straighten it for the party. A task that had apparently taken three hours. It was the first time he’d seen her with her hair like this. And no wonder it took that long to straighten it. Usually, she wore it in wild curls. He actually preferred it that way. He liked the way the light danced off each of her curls. She looked great like this too, just not as carefree.
Finally, her eyelids fluttered open, and wide brown eyes blinked up at him. "I'm so embarrassed."
He tucked her hair behind her ear. Don't be."
"Easy for you to say," she frowned. "I'm the one who tried to molest you in your car."
A smile tugged at his lips. "Best offer I've had in a week, but you know I can’t, and you know why." Not that he didn’t want to. God, he wanted to.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. You wish it was different."
He did. But he had a job to do, and he'd given Caleb his word that nothing was going to happen to her. That included him laying his hands on her.
She rolled into him and laid her head on his shoulder as she threw a leg over him. Shane didn’t dare move. If he did, he'd be tempted to put his arms around her and never let go. Her breathing finally evened, telling him she'd fallen asleep. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but by the time the locksmith knocked on his door, he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
Chapter 4
An icepick to the skull. That's what was going on inside Tris's head. Someone was taking an icepick to it, hammering away. She didn't dare attempt to open her eyes. Something told her there'd be hell to pay when she did.
Just taking mental stock of her body told her that most, if not all of her limbs, were attached. They only felt like they weighed a million tons each. She'd tried, with folly, to move her toes inside her blanket because it was chilly, but no matter how many times her brain gave the command, she couldn't do it. It was too heavy. Too hard, impossible.
But she had to pee. So that was going to require movement at some point. It horrified her that she tried to determine if it was worse to pee on herself or to fall flat on her face and chip a tooth because she couldn't move her limbs to take herself to the bathroom. That was it—she was officially never drinking again. Yes, many a college student before her had uttered the same words, but she was serious about it. She'd make a blood oath to Syd and Xia to make sure.
Her stomach rumbled, and bile circulated. She had a light cramp in her upper abdomen, and she swallowed hard in an effort to keep the bile where it belonged, down the esophagus and not up all over her bedspread. She made her decision. Far more humiliating to pee and barf on herself than to chip her tooth. She had to get up.
After several failed attempts, she was finally able to shift off the blankets. Unfortunately, that also left her body wracked with chills. God damn it. Had someone opened a window last night?
Careful not to make any sudden movements, she peered over to Syd’s and Xia's beds. Syd was laid out flat over hers, face down with both feet dangling off the edge. Xia of course was far less sloppy. Even drunk, Xia did what she was supposed to do. She was under the covers with her sleep mask on. Tris noted the half-drunk liter of water by her roommate's bed. Lucky heifer probably would only have a mild hangover this morning.
Tris squinted at the blinds, trying to determine the time. It was just barely light out, so maybe it was still early.
Luckily, she was able to sit up without either the peeing or vomiting happening. She glanced down at herself. She wore a T-shirt that said Runners do it Better. Because we like marathons. This wasn't hers. Maybe Syd's. But the thing was huge.
Screw it. She'd figure that out later. First things first—bathroom. Then, she had to do something about her stomach.
Once she was able to plant her feet on the floor, she managed to make it to the bathroom and take care of business without incident. She was even able to wash her face and run a toothbrush over her teeth. Which went miles to making her feel more human again. Because she was pretty sure her mouth smelled like the monkey exhibit at the zoo.
What the hell had she been drinking last night?
Rocket fuel was the only feasible answer. Freaking rocket fuel. It was a wonder she wasn't dead.
A memory flashed of some guy with a hand on her ass, and she groaned. Fuck, had she brought him back here? Was this his T-shirt? She glanced around, but there was no sign of anyone else here.
Picking up the collar of the tee, she took a whiff. It smelled delicious. Ocean and musk. A spike of longing rolled through her body. Stupid shirt smelled just like Shane. She'd have to burn it immediately.
Shane.
Oh, God. It seemed as if the mere thought of him was all her mind needed to unlock the memories of last night. Everything came back to her in startling clarity. Including her recreation of dirty dancing with that Kappa Theta guy. Kasey.
"Oh. My. God." New rule. No more frat parties. Okay, that was probably a lie. But definitely no more drinking at frat parties to make questionable choices in dance partners.
She lay back on her bed, trying to piece everything together. What the hell had she been thinking? Kasey? Of all guys, Kasey with his ginger hair and his meaty hands. And his slanging. She silently admonished herself. That was bad enough, but it was the bit about Shane that had her wanting to crawl under her desk and hide.
The things she'd said to him in his car. Tris lifted her T-shirt and covered her face.
Mentally, she forced her mind to calm and walk through the rest of the night, post mortification in the car. Shane had brought her back to the dorm. But she hadn't had a key. Right. That had been Xia's job last night. And good thing, too, because if it had been hers, all three of them would have been sleeping in the hallway.
So Shane had brought her back, then what?
She had a very vague memory of him unbuttoning her blouse and tugging it off. Her body flushed at the thought of his hands on her. But then her memories started to clear, and she remembered him tugging a T-shirt over her head. That would also explain why she was still wearing a bra.
Another hot flush crept over her body as she remembered how her skinny jeans had come off. But he'd been a perfect gentleman, averting his eyes the whole time. Relief with a chase of disappointment washed through her. She owed him a huge thank you.
But something else came back to her. What had they talked about in the car? No matter what she tried, she couldn't see the full picture. Or rather, she could see it, but the sound was off. On second thought, it was probably better that way.
&nb
sp; He had really gone above and beyond last night. Sure, he was her RA, but that was chivalry to the next level. She. Was. An idiot. One who shouldn't be allowed to be in charge of her own life.
She had to do something to say thank you. And also, say she was sorry for coming on so strong. But she was pretty sure there wasn’t a Hallmark for that.
Buy him breakfast.
No. That wouldn’t work because she was too humiliated to ever speak to him again. Maybe she would leave him an anonymous breakfast at his door. Yep, because nothing said I’m not a creepy stalker like her leaving him breakfast. No. Avoidance was probably for the best.
With a groan and a protest from her head, she sat up again. It didn't matter how she felt. She still had to get a run in today. And the earlier the better. She had a better chance of avoiding Shane. She'd have to spend the rest of the semester hiding from him. Or maybe the world would be kind and the ground would just swallow her up already.
She grabbed a quick shower to chase away what she could of the hangover and memories of what happened last night. She also smelled like him in his shirt and it made it difficult to think.
Once she was showered and changed, she felt marginally better. Except for the fact her head was going to explode and she might still throw up. Suck it up. You said you wanted to do this. It'll require some work.
But it didn't matter how silent she was, because the second she tried to close her door, Shane yanked his open. And just her luck, he was shirtless, and his hair was damp with still-wet strands dripping water onto that holy-shit-he-was-chiseled chest. He had on jeans, but they were unbuttoned, and her eyes homed in on the happy trail. Wow.
When she blinked back to consciousness, she realized she was staring. "I-uh, hi."
He grinned at her. "Hey, Tris."
Her stupid eyes wouldn't cooperate, and she continued to stare at the dark path of hair just under those insane abs.
"I'm just headed out for a run."
His brows shot up. "A run? Your head should feel like it's on fire right now. How can you run?"
She shrugged. He was right. Death was preferable. "I'm the moron who wants to do a marathon."
"Wow, that's great. You ever run one before?"
"No. I know I'm insane. Shit, I don’t even like to run. Hate it actually. But I said I was going to do it, so, I need to train."
"Before you go"—he handed her a mug—"drink this."
She stared at it dubiously. "I—what's in it?"
"It's hair of the dog. It'll help with your stomach."
"How did you know?"
He shrugged. "This is college, after all. I've been there before."
She took a sip of the almost too-sweet liquid. The moment it hit her stomach, it warmed her from the inside then spread to her extremities. With a sigh of relief, she drained the mug. "Shit, I feel better already."
"Good. You have a headache?"
"Yeah. I took some aspirin though, so it should subside eventually. Either that, or I'll just pop it off and hang it in my closet for a while to give it a rest."
He grinned. "Been there too. Tell you what. If you keep your head where it is and give me three minutes to find a shirt, I'll take you to breakfast. And you can do your run a little later when you feel more human."
Hell yes.
No. There was no way she’d make it through an entire breakfast without openly gawking at him. "You don't have to do that. Your Prince Charming reputation is well intact."
"No. I want to. Besides, I want to make sure you eat something. And I like to eat with company."
"It's really not necessary. You've seriously done enough."
He ignored her protests. "How about we discuss this over some eggs and pancakes?"
She frowned. "That shouldn't sound good, but it does."
"You need something to soak up everything that's still floating around in you."
She probably did, but that meant sitting across a table from him. Reliving every single thing her alcohol-loosened tongue had said. "I—"
"It's just breakfast, Tris."
She wavered. But he was right. And honestly, she was starving. Not to mention avoiding him was going to be next to impossible. She might as well take her medicine now. "Yeah, okay. But can I get a quick run in first? Syd and Xia think I’m insane and can’t do this marathon. I don’t want them to be right, so maybe we can go to breakfast when I get back?"
He grinned at her. “I’ll do you one better. We’ll run to breakfast.”
Once he ruined her morning by tossing a shirt on, they ran down to the diner on the corner of First Ave. He must have been taking it easy on her, because when they arrived, she was the only one out of breath. He looked perfectly fine, like he’d just gotten out of bed. Meanwhile, she thought her lungs were going to collapse.
At breakfast, he asked her about her classes and kept her talking until their food arrived. All the while, he covered every safe topic from how she liked San Diego, to her classes, to her friends, deliberately avoiding last night.
When the waiter brought the food, there were heaping piles of scrambled eggs and toppling stacks of pancakes along with enough bacon and sausage to keep a football team happy.
He piled something onto a plate and shoved it in her direction. "Eat."
Her stomach growled. The syrup and fresh eggs smelled divine. But there was no way she could eat with last night hanging over her head. "Thanks, but can I just say, I'm so sorry about last night. The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself like that, and you were a perfect gentleman. You didn't need to be so nice about it all. I—I appreciate it."
"It's fine, Tristia. It happens to all of us. I've been sloppy drunk before. I get it."
"Tris. Call me Tris. It's just never happened to me. So, I'm mortified." She winced. "And can we just forget those things I said, you know, in the car? I was wasted. I didn't mean any of it."
He cocked his head and grinned. "What things you said?"
Relief chased away the embarrassment. "Thanks."
He shrugged. "I know things are a little awkward and slightly complicated, but if you'd let me, I'd like to be your friend."
"I can always use a friend. As you can see, I really only have the two."
"Why is that?" He scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth and groaned like it was an orgasmic experience.
Do not picture him shirtless. But it was too late for that. It was on constant replay.
She cleared her throat to try to get some clarity. She then took a bite of her pancakes and completely understood about the orgasmic moaning. "Oh, my God, that's delicious."
He nodded. "Right?" He encouraged her to drink some of her juice by pushing it in her direction. "You were telling me why you only have the two friends."
"Oh, yeah. Got distracted by pancakes." She took a sip. "Uh, part of it is habit. I'm used to not really being allowed to have too many friends. I had a really weird high school experience."
He seemed to ponder that for a minute before asking, "Weird how?"
He was easy to talk to. She felt like she could tell him anything. "Well, I had a little trouble with an overzealous guy when I was fourteen. He followed me around and wouldn't leave me alone."
He frowned, and when he spoke, there was a hint of menace in his voice. "Did he hurt you?"
How to explain this exactly? "I was walking home from school one day, and he grabbed me from the street."
"Holy shit."
She only nibbled on her eggs, appetite gone now. Shane speared a melon and handed it to her. She ate obediently without tasting it.
"I—he-ah. I was fine physically. After that, my dad became a little security crazy. And now that he’s running for President in Trinidad, it’s gotten extra crazy. That's why I was running out of the club the night we met. He'd promised I wouldn't have a security detail here at school, but he went back on his word."
"Well, is there still a threat from whoever took you?"
She shook her head. "He, uh, he kille
d himself. Back then, I used to have nightmares. I was blindfolded all the time, and I would hear him talking to someone, but I never heard the other person’s voice. I used to have nightmares that there were two of them. But eventually, I had to let that go and realize he was just very sick.” She sniffed deep to keep herself from tearing up. “As you’ve experienced, Dad is still pretty overprotective. He still gets threats, you know, against me. What happened is public record. Some more zealous members of opposition parties have threatened me.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah. It’s crazy, I know. Right after, Dad changed my school and sent me to a boarding school in Maine. It's where I met Syd and Xia."
"I'd have done the same thing to keep you safe."
"I understand, I guess. But now it's overkill. I just want to be normal. At any rate, Xia was my roommate, and Syd lived down the hall."
"What did your mother say about the protection?"
It had been almost two years since her mother died, but her stomach still knotted, and her eyes pricked when she talked about her. "At first, it made sense, but she saw how isolated I was and tried to convince Dad to back off."
"I'm sure she gets it though."
She shrugged. "I don't know. Before she died, she told me to make sure I really lived. That I really enjoyed life and didn't let the past define me. She wrote me this letter. I still carry it around. It's like totally worn and flimsy by now, but I keep it. In it, she told me to be brave and be bold. I couldn't really do that when I was still in high school, but I can now. It's become my mantra. Or at least I'm trying. It sucks being afraid of things all the time."
His piercing blue eyes were grave. "I'm sorry, so sorry, Tris. You said she wrote you a letter—was she sick?"
She dragged her gaze from his as she nodded. "Breast cancer," she replied softly. “But she was fighting. She was in remission when she died in a car crash.” And because she couldn't stand to see that pitying look on his face, she changed the subject. "What about you? What's your story?"
He sat back, his look saying he understood what she'd just done. But he let it go. "No big story. Grew up in Vegas. Now I'm here."