Contemporary Nights Volume One

by C. J. Ellisson

  “That I am.”

  Britt giggles and flips her hair. And, just like that, Mike is snared in her web. I roll my eyes and turn to head back to the table.

  And freeze. “Where’d he go?”

  Britt turns away from Mike long enough to glance at the empty table. She stiffens and spins on the barstool. “He was just there.”

  “If you’re talking about the geek at table twelve,” Mike chimes in. “He left the minute you did.”

  I’m stunned into paralysis, too shocked to believe it. “Am I being punked?”

  Britt rests her hand on my shoulder in sympathy, though I hear the giggle as she tries to swallow it. “Congrats, Em. You’ve just been stood up by the biggest loser in the bar.”

  Oh, hell no. He didn’t sneak out the front door or I would have seen him. I spot the back exit and make a beeline for it, ignoring Britt’s protests. I hear Brad’s booming laughter from somewhere behind me and know he’s mocking me. It only fuels my anger.

  I throw the door open and march out to the parking lot. It’s not hard to spot him. He’s the only one walking away from the bar. “Hey! Wait up!” A group slows and looks at me. “Not you. I don’t even know you,” I tell them as I hurry by them. “Ryan!”

  He stops and turns. When he sees me running toward him, his eyes widen. For some reason, seeing him so shocked makes me feel better. Maybe he isn’t drink-and-dashing me after all.

  I finally reach him and hate that I’m panting. God, I’m so out of shape. I put my finger up for him to give me a minute to catch my breath and rest my hands on my knees.

  “Why are you so out of breath? That was like fifty feet. Tops.”

  “I’m wearing heels,” I point out. “That makes it double the distance.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me.” I finally straighten. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “You just left me.”

  “I left you?” he throws back, his voice thick with anger. “You’re the one who got up and walked away. Like I’m going to sit there and wait for you to come back. How much of a zero do you think I really am?”

  “But I just went to get my purse.”

  “I’m not that stupid. You were trying to find a way to get out of having a drink with me.” He throws me a cold smile and rubs the back of his neck. “Anything else you want to lie to me about before I get a chance to leave here with any self-esteem intact?” He spins on his heel and storms off.

  I follow, not sure why I’m chasing him across the parking lot instead of going back inside and forgetting this disaster ever happened. But I do. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously think I’d just leave you like that.”

  He whips around so fast I run into him. When I stumble, he catches me by the elbow. I hate how I like the way his hand feels against my skin. I shudder as chills attack my flesh and wash up my spine.

  “Why not?” he asks as he drops his hand. It falls to his side, and I wish he’d touch me again. “I’m a zero, remember?”

  “How would you like to be a hero?”

  He laughs in my face and it pisses me off. “Because that worked out so well.”

  “I’m serious. Give me a week. I’ll turn you into the guy every girl wants.”

  “A week?”

  “Okay, maybe two. We’ll have to lose the glasses, update the hair, and definitely do something with the wardrobe. But this could totally work.”

  “Why would you do that? You haven’t exactly been that nice to me.”

  My mouth falls open. “Are you shitting me? I saved you from getting your ass kicked back there.”

  “Because of you.”

  “I—” I got nothing. “Fine. Then let me do this to make it up to you.”

  He narrows his gaze. “What’s the catch?”

  “Why does there have to be a catch?”

  “Because with girls like you, there’s always a catch.”

  My mouth falls open yet again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The Delta Annual Spring Hookup is coming up right before break. Maybe you’re looking for a date. Girls like you don’t go to the Delta DASH alone.”

  “Again with the girls like me comment.” I bunch my hands on my hips. “You’d better explain what you mean before I kick your ass myself.”

  He puts his hands up to ward off the attack. “Sorry. I just mean the hot ones.”

  He thinks I’m hot. I cool down ever so slightly. “Hot girls can’t have an honest agenda?”

  “No. Just like guys like Brad never do.”

  I couldn’t argue that one. “As much as I’d love to go to the Delta DASH, I’m a sophomore and I don’t belong to a sorority. That’s like a double whammy.”

  “Unless you’re invited by a Delta.” He wiggles his brow.

  I crinkle mine in return. It can’t be that easy. “Wait. Are you saying you’d take me to the party of the year? The party my children’s children will hear about and wish they were alive when it happened?”

  “How about this? You turn me into a true Delta and I’ll get you into the party. It’s going to take more than turning me into a player. I need to show them I can keep a girl, too.”

  I eye him cautiously. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”

  “Go out with me.” He brings a hand up when I take a breath to protest. “It doesn’t have to be a real relationship. For the week you’re grooming me into this player guy, pretend to be my girlfriend. That way no one even questions why you’re over at my place every night. By the time of the Delta DASH next Saturday, it’s just a given I’m bringing you.”

  “I don’t know…” I chew on the inside of my lip and glance toward the street as I deliberate. Being attached to a nerd for a week and some change could kill my chance at ever being anything at BU other than, well, that girl who dated the nerd for over a week.

  “I promise to break up with you at the DASH,” he adds. “We’ll put on a big show. I’ll be a complete dick to really sell it, since I’m a Delta. You’ll get sympathy from all the other Deltas.”

  As shallow as that makes me sound, I like his idea. I witnessed breakup sympathy firsthand with Mike and Britt. I’d legitimately turn the head of a Delta without having to stand next to my best friend. God, I really am shallow.

  The more I think about it, the more in sinks in. Holy shitballs. Holy holy shitballs! I’m going to the Delta freakin’ DASH. That’s like walking the red carpet at the Oscars. I think about pinching myself, but if I’m dreaming, I don’t want to ever wake up.

  “Do we have a deal?” I don’t trust that glimmer in his eyes. It’s dark. Heated. Nerds are not allowed to look at anyone with that level of intensity. And I shouldn’t love the way it sparks my libido to life.

  What in the hell is the matter with me?

  I snap out of my daze. “Uh, let me think about that. Yes!”

  We shake on it and I hold his hand a little longer than I need to. When he glances at my hand still in his, I shrug and slowly slip it out. “I’m going to turn you into the hottest player at BU. It’s only fitting. All the Deltas are total players. Hot, but total tools.”

  “I can’t argue that one.” He leads me over to where all the motorcycles are parked and I have to admit, I’m impressed. I love a man on a motorcycle. The rebel. The wild one. I can’t wait to see his leather jacket and tattoos.

  And then he backs out a powder blue Vespa from between two actual motorcycles.

  I laugh. “You drive a fucking scooter?”

  “What’s wrong with driving a scooter? Lots of guys drive scooters.”

  “Not to bars.”

  “I only have one helmet.” He hands it to me.

  I stare at it. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  That blank expression on his face tells me he’s not. I don’t want to ride bitch on a scooter. Since it’s either that or take the bus, I grab the helmet and shove it on my head. “I’ll have you know taking a girl home on the back of a scooter mean
s she won’t stick around for breakfast.”

  “I don’t get what that means.”

  I slap him on the back as I climb aboard. “We have our work cut out for us, buddy.”

  Chapter Three

  Ryan

  I’ve always had a thing for redheads. I blame Christina Feeney, the first girl I ever loved. Granted it was the second grade, but a guy doesn’t forget a love like that. The tightness in my chest. The way my heart beats like I’ve just finished a twenty mile run. She started it and I react the same way to every girl I’ve ever tried to talk to since I was eight years old. I swear to God I’m going to have a stroke just thinking about talking to a girl.

  I wipe my palms on my jeans to dry them. Can Emma tell how nervous I am? Is she just as nervous? She keeps darting her pretty eyes to the door, like she’s waiting for her chance to escape. I admit, this is not how I thought this night would end, with me bringing a girl home. I’ve never done this sort of thing before and have no fucking idea what the hell I’m doing.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Holy shit, yes.” She follows that up with a quick smile as she takes a seat at the counter. “I mean, please.”

  As I open the fridge and peek inside, my gut twists. I hate being a starving college student with a minimum wage job. I have a whopping two beers, a box of baking soda my mom put in there when I moved in a year and a half ago, and a couple slices of pizza I should have thrown out a month ago.

  I emerge with two beers and offer her a hint of a grin. “Sorry, fresh out of cherry syrup martinis.”

  “Maraschino,” she reminds me, then rolls her eyes when I laugh. “You know, you should be shitting bricks, you’re so nervous. You could barely talk to me at the bar. Why aren’t you nervous now?”

  “Who said I wasn’t nervous?”

  “You don’t act nervous.”

  “Because the pressure is off,” I explain and twist off the top of the beers before handing one to her. “You’re here to turn me cool, not judge me because I’m not.”

  Then, maybe, I’d have a chance with her. Every guy I’ve ever seen her with fit the bill. The proverbial tall, good-looking, asshole. Not only would I finally fit in here at BU, but maybe my own family would finally talk to me like a person instead of a disappointment.

  “Good point.”

  “Besides, it’s not like you’d ever sleep with me.” I hold my breath and watch her, waiting for her reaction to my comment.

  She doesn’t even falter as she glances around the mod. “That’s not off the table.”

  I almost swallow my tongue as I choke on my beer. And, just like that, my chest is tight as panic squeezes my midsection. I know nothing is going to happen. She’s a solid nine, but the hair puts her above a ten in my book. She’s worlds above me.

  Who am I kidding? Even if this works and she turns me into a player, I’d never be high enough on the hotness scale to get with her. I have to remember that. This whole fake relationship is just that—fake.

  Then why am I so goddamn anxious that I have to concentrate to breathe? It was her comment. Why would sleeping with me be part of the deal? Not that I’m against the idea, but just the thought of it leading to us having sex has my heart struggling to beat.

  “Did I shock you?” she asks as she sips at her beer. “You haven’t said anything since I dropped the sex bomb.”

  “I…uh…” I swallow and have to take a pull off my beer to wet my throat. Shit. I’m back to stuttering. I suck in a deep breath and slowly let it out to settle my nerves. Girls that look like her don’t come home and sleep with guys that look like me. Period. There’s really only one explanation and it twists inside me to even think about. I can’t meet her in the eye as I say, “What exactly are you here to do? Is this like Risky Business? Do I pay you?”

  She gasps. “You think I’m a prostitute? Are you shitting me right now? Screw you, asshole.” She jumps off the stool and grabs her purse. Color splashes her cheeks and I take a step in front of the door to block her from leaving. She gives me a look that has me worried she’ll break one or more of my bones if I don’t move.

  I put my hands up. “I’m sorry. I’m really bad at this.”

  “No shit.” She crosses her arms under her breasts and I’m distracted by how her nipples press against her shirt. “Eyes up here, Romeo.”

  Jesus. I really am an asshole. I rivet my gaze to her face. Her eyes darken as fury swirls in them. She’s ready to attack and I take a cautious step toward her. “Please. Can we start over? I really need your help.”

  “Are you going to accuse me of being a fucking hooker again?” She thins her lips.

  “No,” I answer quickly. Carefully, I slowly grab her purse from her. She lets me. I don’t take another breath until I set the bag on the couch and lead her back to the stool. Only when she sits and wraps her slender fingers around her beer do I finally breathe again. “You’re just so beautiful. When you mentioned sleeping with me, I panicked.”

  “I didn’t say it was part of the deal. It’s just not off the table. Unless you get any weirder on me, then I may just have to stab you in the throat.”

  I fight not to crack a smile. “I’ll work on lowering my weirdness factor.”

  She snorts and this time I do laugh. “Not too much. You’re weirdness is kind of cute. Okay, let’s set some ground rules. I’m turning you into a total dick. You do realize that, right? You’ll be able to get any girl when I’m done with you. Do you have any in mind?”

  I stare at her. If I had the choice of any girl, it would be the one narrowing her eyes at me right now. Dropping my gaze, I answer, “No.”

  “Good.”

  I bring my attention up, not even bothering to hide the shock. “Good?”

  “Ryan, you’re going to love them and leave them wanting more. That’s the very definition of a player. You’re playing the field. You can’t go after anyone you have feelings for. It will get too personal. You can’t love them and keep them or you’ll never be labeled a player.”

  That’s fine with me. I don’t want to be a player, not really. My dad is the one who wants me to be something I’m not. My brother won’t even associate with me. I need this. I need to prove I’m a Delta. I have a family legacy to uphold, and every Delta has a reputation to create. God, if my dad could only hear my thoughts. He’d be so proud. “Player. Got it. What else?”

  “You’re taking me to the DASH. That’s all this is. One friend scratching the other friend’s back.”

  I study her eyes. “So we’re friends?”

  “Not if you make another hooker comment.” She stands and walks around the small living room. I try not to stare at her ass but fail. Hell, I may be a nerd, but I’m still male and her curves are amazing. “So, how is it you get to live in a mod? I thought they were reserved for seniors.”

  I’m not about to share my dysfunctional family dynamics with the person turning me into the very thing I’ve spent my life trying to avoid becoming. “Delta made an exception for me.”

  She gives me a look. I’m not sure if she’s jealous or pissed. Or both. “They don’t want you in their house.” It isn’t a question.

  I lose what little smile I have as I turn away from her. How did she know that? “Not exactly.”

  “Then how did you swing it? Got dirt on Brad or something?”

  “My dad made a call.”

  She nods, like she understands. “What, is he like the president or something?”

  “Or something.” I’m not about to tell her who my dad is. Brad knows, as do the Delta officers, but no other students know. I want it to stay that way.

  “Okay, okay. Touchy about the dad. Next subject. Let’s get to work on turning you from zero to hero.”

  This woman is brutal to my ego. “Why do you keep calling me a zero?”

  “Oh, come on. It’s just something I say. Don’t take it so personal.”

  I give her a sideways look. “Kind of like when Brad told you that your
friend was the hot one. That didn’t bother you at all?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But he said it to piss me off. I’m not calling you a zero to make you mad.”

  “Then why call me that at all?”

  “It’s a frame of reference. Jeez. Are you going to continue to act like a whiny little bitch or are we going to do this?”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Did you just call me a whiny little bitch?”

  “That I did.” She laughs. “We’ll be fixing that, among other things. Attitude is everything.”

  I nod and push my nerves aside. This is what needs to happen. I have a father, grandfather, and big brother constantly telling me I’m not good enough. My brother is convinced I’m adopted. They’re athletic, all-stars in high school, all-conference in college. I was captain of the knowledge bowl team in high school and am the floor supervisor for one of the computer labs. Being forced into the Delta house is my dad’s way of fixing me, as he says. If I earn a spot inside the Delta house instead of tossed into the backyard, my dad will stop riding my ass. My brother may even pat me on the back when I come home for spring break. I hate that their approval means shit to me, but they’re family. Their approval matters.

  “What is it?” she asks and rests a hand on my shoulder.

  Aside from the players I talk to online during my Saturday night gaming session, I don’t talk to anyone else. None of them know about my family. I’m not about to say anything to a pretty stranger and keep it to myself. “I’m nervous.”

  “I promise to be gentle.” She pats my arm and moves away to grab her beer. “How did you get to be a Delta anyway? I thought they were really picky on who they let in. No offense, but you really don’t seem the Delta type.”

  Time to come clean. Sort of. “I’m what they call a legacy. My dad was Delta. His dad was Delta, as was his dad. Even my brother was a Delta, just not at BU. Of course, they were all massive jocks. I’m, well, not. But the rule is, once a Delta, always a Delta. I’m a fourth-generation Delta. That’s like seniority in this house.”

  “And yet they have you living in the backyard,” she points out, acid dripping from her tone. “I don’t care that your daddy made a call. Something’s not right.”