I ground my teeth together, looking up Uber’s that were close by. “What’s your point, Ren?”
“My point,” he said in a soft tone, “is that you’re wasting your life away waiting for a great awakening to come to you. They don’t come to you. You have to chase them down and wake yourself up.” He put his hand on my shoulder, waiting until I met his gaze to keep going. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing,” I hissed.
“Yes, you are. You’re terrified of being more than what you think you can become. You picked a boring career, date boring men, drink boring drinks, and play it safe. Because you’re terrified of failure.”
I shook him off. Where did he get off on dissecting my life? I stomped away, choosing an Uber that was around the corner.
Who liked failure? Who enjoyed epically crashing and burning?
No one.
And especially not me.
Chapter Two
Esmaie
I had the Uber driver drop me off at the university. I admired the empty campus while it was that way; come August tenth, the campus would be crawling with people. Confused freshmen running around without a clue. Sophomores who thought they’d figured it out (they hadn’t), juniors who had but were too immersed in their studies or beer pong to know they had, and then you had me, a senior, who may or may not be working toward a fruitless career, who had failed enough to know I hadn’t figured anything out, and was fairly positive I never would.
I blew out a loud breath, pushing my hair from my face. From the corner of my eye I caught a brief flash from the tendrils of my dark golden locks floating on the breeze, so much freer than me. I figured if I had a jump on studying this year, falling behind wouldn’t happen. I had the assigned text books for my upcoming semester, just not the lessons. I found sample lessons online and spent the better part of the evening cramming my brain with information, proving Ren and everyone else wrong.
But the truth was, he wasn’t wrong. Well, not entirely. I wasn’t afraid of anything. I was empty. I wanted this all to matter so much, but nothing was. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt meant to be. My degree was interesting, but it wouldn’t sustain me. It couldn’t. Not unless I moved somewhere where it could matter, like New York with all its museums, or Paris with its rich and alluring history.
I was falling into a sea of failure, drowning in all that I couldn’t obtain.
When I made it back home that night, there was an unfamiliar truck in the driveway beside Bri’s Honda. I assumed it was Wade’s, and resented the pitter patter my heart gave. The moment I stepped inside, I was assaulted by the scent of oregano and parmesan cheese. All three of them were eating spaghetti at the kitchen table. Okay, first off, Bri outlawed eating at the kitchen table years ago when Ren spilled tea on her textbook. And secondly, no one in this house cooked whatsoever. We lived off takeout and the microwave.
“What’s going on here?” I demanded, setting my bag down on the sofa.
Bri beamed. “Wade made us dinner. Make a plate and sit down.”
Wade looked up from his food, giving me his attention for a second before returning to sucking down noodles. As good as he looked scarfing down pasta, sucking it up with those bitable lips, I didn’t want to sit down with my two traitorous roommates and the new guy. This entire scene felt betraying somehow. Like they were pushing me out.
“I already ate,” I mumbled, having no interest to join them. I scooped up my bag, grabbed a diet soda from the fridge, and went to my room, taking a much, needed breath.
I knew this would happen. A stranger in the midst of comfort created uncomfortableness everywhere they went. I fell onto my bed and reached for my remote, turning on Netflix, the cure for loneliness. Until it asked me if I was still watching, and I couldn’t help feeling like it was checking if I were still breathing in between episodes of Pretty Little Liars.
“Yes, I’m still alive,” I growled, pressing on the next episode.
The next morning, I got up before anyone else, probably because I’d fallen asleep before anyone else, what with my busy night life. I showered and got dressed, and then I hit the streets looking for a job. I had a week and a half before class started, and I needed to know my rent would be paid before that. I hit up College Row again, giving anyone who would listen my resume.
I did the same thing for four more days before I got a call back from a pet groomer a few blocks down the way from College Row. I lied and said I’d taken care of animals before, but Bri and Ren could be considered wild animals if they had too much tequila.
Whatever job it was, I’d take it. I needed the money more than I needed the prestige. I ran into the living room to tell everyone my good news, but the only person there was Wade, basking on the sofa with his muddy soccer cleats propped up on the coffee table. He was wearing his jersey, and his soccer shorts were stained with mud and grass. Sweat dripped down his temples and he had a water bottle in his right hand.
I skidded to a halt, snapping my mouth closed when he looked up curiously.
He rose a brow at me. “What?”
“Where’s Bri and Ren?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I just got back from practice.”
“Really? You mean Bri’s letting you breathe?” She’d been up his ass all week, dangling from his nut sack and tickling his butthole. Desperate for his attention.
He cringed, returning his gaze to the TV. “Want to do me a favor?”
“Not really, no.”
“I’ll buy you a beer?”
Hmm. Free drinks? As a broke college student, who was I to turn down a free buzz? “A bottle?”
His eyes narrowed. “A can.”
Fancy man, I thought mockingly. “Fine.” I collapsed onto the sofa beside him. Lucky for him, I wasn’t a fancy girl. “What do you need expert assistance for?”
“Expert assistance?” He snorted. “Right. Um, I was wondering if you could talk to Bri for me?”
“About…?”
“About her, you know, attraction for me.”
I frowned. “You want me to hook you up?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“I want you to unhook me. I’m not into her, but I don’t want to be mean. Plus, I need this room. Maybe you could tell her that we got a thing going on?”
I gaped at him. “Like that would help. She’d hate me.”
“Why? We don’t even know each other.”
“That’s how we women are. Possessive, powerful creatures. Your hers, buddy. Nothing I can do. But,” I continued, when he looked crestfallen. He really didn’t want her on his nuts. “I’ll talk to her for you. I’ll tell her that you’re phallically challenged.”
He choked on his water, spewing it all over my face and shirt. The shirt I wore was white, because the universe just had to embarrass me even more.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” He reached for me, swiping his huge paw down my face, smearing his spit up water even worse over me.
I remained still, frozen in place. “You spit all over me,” I told him needlessly, my tone breaking from the weight of my disgust.
He tried to hold in his laugh, but a smirk blew from his lips. “I really am sorry. Hang tight. I’ll get you a towel.”
“And bleach.”
He rolled over the back of the couch and headed into the hall. “I’m not diseased.”
I glared at the wall in front of me until he returned. He sank down and sent his paw over my face again with a towel. “There, all better.” He draped the towel over the back of the couch and gave me a handsome grin. “What were you saying about my dick?”
“It’s tiny,” I sneered. “Uncircumcised, and it smells. Like a meatball sub and beef stew.”
His grin widened, showing off every one of his straight white teeth. “Wrong. Wronger. Wrongest.”
“Way to butcher the English language.” I tried to get up, but his hand grabbed my wrist and he pulled me back down. “What?” I whined.
“Are you going to talk to her?” He g
ave me a serious face.
And it was stupid sexy. He was still sweaty, and the sweat had dampened his messy hair. His green and black jersey clung to his chest. His face was flushed from practice. He smelled like grass and sweat. I wanted to rub up against him and smell the same way. “Okay, but I don’t want a beer.”
“What do you want?”
You, the thought came to me. From so deeply inside I had to wonder if it were me wishing for him, or my heart. I cleared my throat, hoping the thought wasn’t somehow broadcasted all over my face. “I want a ride to school every morning for a month.” That should give me long enough to save for a clunker. A girl had to be practical.
“Fine,” he agreed immediately, letting my wrist go. “No problem.”
“Can I ask why you’re not into her? She’s a pretty cool girl. She’s so cute and funny.” Most men went straight for Bri and dismissed me like I wasn’t even there.
He shrugged, thinking his answer through. A strange frown settled between his brows, like something was hurting him. “She’s definitely cute. No argument there. And she’s a great girl, but I don’t have time for an emotional relationship, you know? I’ve got to work, practice, play, and keep my grades up. I don’t have time for anything else.”
Fair enough. I understood that and even empathized. “Now that that’s settled.” Awkwardness moved in so quick, I felt my throat bob. “I’m going to go shower your spit off my face and chest.”
Just a normal day…
He simply stared up at me from his perch on the couch, clear blue eyes dancing with dark mirth. “You do that, Esmaie.”
Oh man, his deep voice wrapped around my name sounded sensual and sultry. It made perfect sense for him to know my name—I knew his—but he hadn’t seemed all that interested over the past week to remember my name now. He’d already gotten what he wanted from me. I did the mature thing and glared at him before taking off for the shower.
“Hey,” he called out before my hand could touch the bathroom door handle.
“Yeah?” I called back weakly.
“What were you going to say when you came out here? You looked kind of excited.”
“Oh, that.” Between getting spit on and being around him, I’d forgotten. “I got a job. I wanted to share it with my roommates, but as we’ve established, they’re not here.”
“I’m here.” His eyes didn’t move from my face. “What’s the job?”
Like I would ever tell him that I’d be washing dog butt for the whole school year. “Bartender at Campus Chaos.” The bar downtown was so busy and crazy there was no way he could possibly know if that were true or not.
His eyes lit up. “No way. I love that bar. You know, on the days I can sneak in a good time.”
Just my luck. “Uh-huh. Cool. Maybe I’ll see you there sometime.”
“When’s your shift?”
I pointed at my wet shirt, which was mildly see-through now thanks to him. “Gotta go. I’ll, uh, let you know.”
“Esmaie?” he called out again right before I closed my door.
“What?” I snapped, losing my patience.
“Let’s celebrate.”
“No need.”
“Well, I think it’s messed up that you come out here to celebrate with your roommates, but don’t consider me one. I am one, but that’s probably because you don’t know me. So, let’s change that. We’ll hang out tonight and get to know each other. Unless you have other plans?”
I peered around the corner, finding that he still had his head turned and eyes waiting for me. I should have said no. Called that missing feeling in my heart bluff. But my head nodded before my brain and heart could stop it. “Okay.”
He smiled, pleased. “Purple’s a nice color on you.”
I frowned, wondering what the hell that meant, until I looked down and realized I was wearing a purple bra under my shirt. I shot him an evil sneer and took off. I showered in record time and dressed in a black tank top this time, just in case he decided to spray me with water again. Once dressed, I didn’t know what to do. Did I go back out with him? What the hell did we talk about? I did think it was nice that he was making an effort. That had to count for something.
Putting on a brave face, I went back out to find my brief flash of courage had been for nothing. He was in the shower. I tried, I really did, but I imagined him in it anyway. Tall, lean body covered in soap. I brought my knuckle to my mouth and bit down in the hallway, the sounds of the shower water deafeningly loud. I could only imagine how good he looked naked. His hair damp, water cascading down his face and elongating his chocolatey blond lashes. I found my body pressed to the door, listening for any sounds that he was in there.
“What are you doing?”
I yelped, whirling around and nearly falling over when I found Wade standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a bundle of clothes in his hand. He hadn’t showered yet.
“I, uh, love doors.”
His brows drew down. “Doors? Like the band?”
I went with it. “Come on baby, set my fire!” I sang the song, my tone wobbling. My face burned with the heat of my blush.
His expression shifted into one of unconvinced doubt. “I think it’s ‘light my fire.’”
“Hey! Who’s the door expert here?” I jabbed at my chest. “Me. That’s right. Get in that shower and stop asking me questions.” I put on my serious face and opened the door for him.
Steam seeped out and wrapped around us in the hall. My eyes had done a good job so far of not heading south, but that was over the moment he stepped close. His body was the kind of body that ruined panties and hearts. Just as lean and hard as I imagined, with grooves and lines in every inch of his abdomen, which was bordered with two of the most delicious looking V’s carved into his lower torso. His happy trail was the same color as his hair.
He brushed past me, rolling his eyes as he did so. “I’ll be out in a few.”
“Take your time. Please,” I whispered when he closed the door.
Free of him, I gasped, out of breath, and slid down on my butt to sit in the hall and find my center. I was hot, sticky, and mortified. The combination created a level of unease in me that wasn’t easily talked away.
Chapter Three
Esmaie
I was totally playing it cool when he emerged, freshly showered and dressed in black gym shorts and a white t-shirt. His damp hair was swept back, and he looked so comfortable and fresh.
He paused, studying me sitting on the kitchen counter eating cereal from the box. He opened his mouth, shook his head, and then regrouped. Maybe not so cool on my part. “So, what should we do? Pizza and a movie? When the others get here they can join us.”
“That’s so domestic.” I set the cereal down beside me on the counter, swinging my legs.
He smirked, swiping his fingers through his hair on his way to the fridge. “I rarely have time to do nothing. When I do, I like to take full advantage of it.”
“Pizza sounds good. I’ll order.” I ran into my room for my phone and joined him in the kitchen. He looked over my shoulder at the menu. The scent of his spicy, full-bodied soap washed over me. My throat dried; I wondered if I’d ever been this aware of another person before. If the presence of another person had ever both uprooted and somehow enticed me at the same time. How could he not feel this? “Combination, then?”
He winked. “Get two pies. Sides, too.”
When the pizza got there, after forty-minutes of me pretending I was doing stuff on my phone while he tried to make small talk, we both settled down in the living room. I let him pick the movie; I wouldn’t be paying attention to it much anyway.
I sat on the ground between the couch and the coffee table and he sat on my right on the sofa. He picked an action movie that was immediately bloody and there were no hot guys anywhere.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” he spoke up.
I peered at him through leery eyes. “We’re watching a movie.”
�
��We’re supposed to be getting to know each other. Ask me something.”
I asked the first thing that popped into my head. “Doggie or missionary?” A moment later, I shouted, “What the hell, Wade!” I bolted to my feet, brushing off the pizza he’d spit all over my shirt. I picked a piece of bell pepper from between my breasts.
He guffawed in the living room the entire time I cleaned up and put on a fresh shirt. A baggie, worn and ripped Eeyore shirt I used for sleeping.
“I’m sorry,” he chuckled. “You can’t spring something like that on me. Shit, Esmaie. But if you want to know, I’d choose missionary. More intimate.”
I no longer cared. “Eat your pizza.”
He continued. “What about you?”
I ignored him.
“You look sweet on the outside, but I have a feeling that if I got you naked you’d be anything but.”
I refused to take the bait, shoving a slice of pizza in my mouth.
“Fine, fine. You can be out there and say messed up shit, but I have to be a gentleman?”
Damn right.
“Okay. Understood. What is your favorite color my sweet, virgin roommate?”
I fought to keep the smile off my face. “Why, it’s hymen pink of course.”
He chuckled, eyes twinkling. “You’re fucked up.”
I gave in, laughing right along with him. “Dirty mouth, pure heart. I promise.” I put my hand in the air in a pose of innocence he couldn’t possibly question.
“I’m afraid to keep talking to you.” He grinned, though, and I thought he thought I was strange enough to keep going. “Does Bri and Ren know they’re living with a deviant?”
I contemplated that. “I think they suspect it, but there’s no solid proof.”
“Ah, got it. I bring out the freak in you.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, you make me change my shirt three times and force me to watch boring, bloody movies.”
“Missionary or doggie, Esmaie?”
I held his gaze. “Doggie.”
The Jock and the Dreamer Page 2