Frenemies

by Nicole Blanchard

  My grandparents and Jessica’s family began firing questions at Layla about the charity and her involvement. Unfazed, or perhaps bolstered by the topic of conversation, Layla answered them, which gave me time to study her. I could make a career out of looking at her. I’m not sure I’d ever get tired of it.

  From my seat next to Jessica, I got an unobstructed view across the table where Layla was seated by my grandfather, who seemed to be as enamored as I was. At least that was one thing we had in common.

  As the two of them began their own tangent about the charity, Jessica leaned down to murmur in my ear, “Your friend seems nice. Are the two of you together?”

  “No,” I answered and sipped my beer. “She’s a student in one of the classes I T.A. for.”

  “A student, hmm? Then you’re single?”

  “Why do you ask?” We both knew the answer to that question, but I was enjoying the way Layla was glaring at me with Jessica so close. Sue me. She’d been driving me mad the past couple of weeks. The fucked-up part of me was reveling in the chance to do the same to her in return. That almost encounter in the laundry room hadn’t been near enough.

  As though she knew what I was up to, Layla intentionally turned her attention back to my grandfather. That didn’t stop me from catching her gaze when it wandered back to me from time to time. I didn’t discourage Jessica from cultivating an intimate conversation, but I didn’t encourage it either. I’d let her down gently at the end of the night.

  I’d been with women like Jessica before, and as beautiful as they were, they only wanted me for my face or my name. Neither of which had anything whatsoever to do with me as a person. Ironically, they had that in common with my grandparents. According to them, all I needed to succeed in life were my looks and reputation.

  All I needed, to be reminded those two things had no real bearing outside of their rich circles, was to look into Layla’s eyes and know there was someone out there who saw the real me. Maybe she didn’t fall to my feet, but at least it was honest.

  It’s that thought that had me following her when the evening concluded, and my grandparents were distracted by the Martins and saying their goodnights. I excused myself and followed her to the empty hall outside the ballroom.

  “Layla,” I said, but she quickened her pace. Damn if I didn’t love chasing her. It made me wonder if she liked it as much when I caught her.

  “Go back to your family, Dash. It’s been a long night and I don’t want to fight with you,” she said when I did just that.

  “Who said I wanted to fight?”

  Her hair had started to fall down around her shoulders. Now that there wasn’t a crowd around, I let my eyes wander over the deep neckline of her dress and the exposed tops of her breasts. There was just enough creamy flesh exposed to be enticing without being downright X-rated.

  “You always want to fight,” she said.

  “Maybe because you always seem so happy to do it. You especially like arguing with me in class, but that’s not what I’m interested in now. Are you okay? You seemed upset.”

  “You don’t have to pretend to be interested.” Her shoulders slumped.

  “If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t be asking,” I replied.

  “Fine, but only because I hope my tedious problems will annoy you.” She closed her eyes and slumped against the wall. “This benefit was supposed to raise money for low-income schools to support their art programs. I suppose these days, most people seem to think art education isn’t relevant, so they’re slowly being defunded. We worked so hard with the kids to make their projects for auction and we didn’t even make a dent in our goal. Sometimes, when things like this happen, I wonder if maybe my mom is right about art being useless.”

  “Hey,” I said, and leaned next to her. “It isn’t useless. The work you’re doing matters.” She scoffed and I nudged her with my shoulder. “I may joke a lot, but I mean it. Whatever I end up doing with my life won’t mean half as much as the time you put in with those kids.”

  “But my mom—”

  “Screw your mom,” I cut in and made her laugh.

  The moment lengthened, and I became aware of how close we were standing. I turned to face her, studying the genuine smile resting on her lips. I knew I should walk away, but she never looked more beautiful than she did right then.

  She had a second of comprehension where her eyes widened, and she brought her arms to my chest before my mouth closed over hers.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LAYLA

  HIS LIPS HOVERED over mine like a suggestion and his tongue snuck in like a secret. Dash Hampton was dangerous, lethal even, because one taste made you think the whole ordeal was your idea.

  I was being seduced.

  I hadn’t prepared for it, couldn’t protect myself against it. The marginal defenses I had specifically for Dash crumpled as he hooked my chin with his fingers and glued the front of his body to mine.

  There was no excuse for it.

  No reason.

  No plan.

  But I melted against him, the heat between us exploding like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and I was powerless against the assault.

  I hadn’t planned on any of this, certainly not how I responded to him. Not the way I moaned against his full, soft lips or licked at his tongue. My own shameless response would have shocked me on any other occasion, but there simply wasn’t a chance. We went from arguing, something we always seemed to do, to kissing with no pause in between.

  I pulled away long enough to suck in a steamy breath. “We have to stop,” I whispered. The voice inside my head screamed NO, but I could hear the doors to the lounge open and fill with people as the crowd began to spill out into the hallway.

  We were going to get caught. Someone affiliated with the school would see, and we’d both be in deep trouble.

  Deprived of my mouth, Dash licked and nibbled down my throat to the neckline of my dress. “This spot right here,” he paused with his mouth hovering over the swells of my breasts, “this spot has been driving me crazy all night.”

  I fisted his hair, my body trembling with a mix of nerves and fear. The combination was intoxicating. Something came over me, something dirty and dangerous. Something I’d never felt in all my life at playing it safe, at being the good girl who never crossed the lines.

  Freeing one hand from his hair, I tugged at the neckline of the dress, baring the thin silk bra and my pebbling nipple to his gaze. He licked his lips, his breath shuddering out and bathing my fevered skin. His eyes met mine as he lifted a hand to cup and shape my breast and the connection sent sparks of pleasure along my nerve endings.

  My eyes began to shutter closed as he peeled back the material of my bra. I felt the quick lash of his tongue against my nipple, then he was reaching up and cupping my head.

  “Watch,” he said, his voice harsh and low in the relative quiet. When I didn’t immediately open my eyes at his command, his hot, wet mouth closed over the peak and his teeth nipped in warning.

  I hissed out a breath and my eyes shot open. Seeing him with his mouth on me, feeling his tongue flicking against the bud of my nipple and watching as he sucked and bit, had all the tender muscles inside of me clenching in sweet agony.

  At my moan, he surged up and met my mouth again, his hand going to my breast to tease and taunt. For the first time in my life, I didn’t think. My brain simply shut off, like he flipped a switch I didn’t even know existed.

  “Let’s go back to my place,” he said against my lips. “Hell, your place, I don’t fuckin’ care. I want you under me in a bed.” His fingers worked quickly, baring my other breast and flicking the peak into a hard point. “Any bed. Mine, yours. Whichever one is closer.”

  “What about—”

  “I don’t give a damn about anything else. It’s just you and me.”

  He kissed me again and I had never realized it could be so distracting. That’s why it took a few long, heated moments for what he said to penetrate. I pressed my h
ands to his chest and after a moment, he let me free, though we were both struggling to breathe.

  “I can’t,” I said between panting breaths. “We shouldn’t.”

  His lips moved to my ear. “We can and we should. Fuck everything else. Be with me.”

  “You don’t even like me,” I tried to reason.

  Dash’s chuckle was dark and made me shiver against him. His fingers tweaked both nipples and he pressed me tighter against the wall. I could feel him hard and ready against my stomach. My fingers itched to reach down, take him into my hands and explore.

  “You want me to tell you what I like?” he asked. His hands lifted and weighed the tender heaviness. “New on my list are these, but I have a feeling they’re gonna rocket right to the top.” He brought his thumb to my mouth, slipping it between my lips until I tasted the salt of his skin. “This. This mouth, the way it likes to spit fire sometimes, I love that. But I also like when it’s sweet. You’re a contradiction, sweet cheeks, and I’m finding I like both sides of you.” His lips come back to mine and he bites down, just hard enough to have me gasp. “The sass,” he said, then licked and soothed. “And the sweet.”

  I had to admit, I wanted nothing more than to do exactly as he suggested. Nothing else seemed to matter once he got his hands on me, not common sense, not our past, not the future.

  It was exactly that lack of steadiness that had me pulling away. “Wait,” I said. “Wait a second.”

  To his credit, he groaned, pressing his mouth to my neck as he soothed with his hands over my back. Then, he fixed my bra, adjusted my dress—though he took his time about it —and I was half delirious by the time he was done.

  As the waves of lust cleared, I could hear the low murmur of people not even a few feet away. My cheeks began to burn with shame and surprise. I’d never done anything like it in my life before. Let alone with Dash, who I’d hated for as long as I could remember.

  His eyes met mine and were like burning coals in the dark. There was no hate in them, only lust. “Don’t,” he said before I could start rationalizing everything away. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” He began to move with my hand tight in his, then stopped, his lips quirking up. Then he moved back, tugged the clip that kept my hair up in a sleek bun and watched appreciatively as it tumbled over my shoulders. “That’s better.”

  Without giving me time to think, he pulled me forward and I followed because my thoughts were too muddled to make any sense of what had happened. For the moment, I’d do as he said and not think about it. Tomorrow, everything would return to normal, but for now, I let him lead.

  I waited by the exit, letting the cool evening air wash over my heated skin as Dash left to find his grandparents and wish them goodnight. Keeping my mind carefully blank, I closed my eyes and steeped in the delicious thrum I still felt all over my body.

  Was this what people talked about when they spoke of desire? Lust?

  I’d dated around, but I’d never really been so attracted to someone I forgot everything that mattered. Rather than frighten me, it intrigued me. The forbidden aspect excited me. The way he frustrated me now fed into the fire. Would I ever be able to look at him again without remembering the way his mouth felt on me when we were surrounded by shadows and overwhelmed by need?

  Another time, I’d agonize over separating the hate from the heat, but as soon as Dash walked around the corner, his hands tucked into the pockets of his tux, his hair still mussed from my fingers, all doubts fled. Except for one.

  Was I making a mistake not taking him up on his offer?

  “Ready to go?” he asked as he looped an arm around my waist.

  For the first time in my whole life, I didn’t want to shove him away. Torn, I could only let him lead me around the hotel where the fundraiser had been held, to the parking lot and his car.

  He opened the car door for me, shocking me for the second time that night. I folded myself in and the scent of leather, smoke, and something citrus enveloped me. It was like being steeped in him, and I wondered if it was soaking into my pores. If it was, would I ever be able to get it out?

  Not knowing what to do with myself, how to act now that things had changed, I kept my hands in my lap and my eyes forward. Dash didn’t seem to have the same problem. He reached across and gripped my thigh, leaving his hand there like a brand. When he did, I shifted and finally let my hands flutter down to grip his.

  Holding onto him that way kept me from focusing too much on how crazy it was. This was Dash! Not only was he the guy who’d spent the majority of our lives torturing me, but he was also the T.A. for the one class I needed to graduate. But there were other reasons why we couldn’t be together.

  Reasons I never thought I’d tell him…ever.

  I’m not sure if I could.

  Despite the muddled state of my thoughts, I relaxed in his car until we pulled up into our parking garage. As he pulled his briefcase from the back of his car, I slipped out of my high heels. I didn’t often go for appearance over comfort and when I did, I was always grateful for the time when I could peel myself out of the clothes and shoes and get back into regular clothes.

  We walked to the door in silence, and the tension began to build again inside me. This time it wasn’t the fun sort clouded by lust. I stopped him at my door with a quick turn and a hand on his arm.

  “Wait,” I began, but he cut me off.

  “No need to give me an excuse. But this is something we’ll need to talk about, eventually. It’s not a bell we can unring.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because every time I look at you, all I’m going to be thinking about is how good you taste.”

  I nearly swallowed my own tongue. “Dash, there’s something you need to know.”

  He lifted a hand. “I don’t care about anything that happened before. If you wanna argue with me, I’m fine with that. I like getting you all riled up, but there’s more here than that now, and I think you know it.”

  “That’s not it,” I said. My heart leapt in my chest. If his kiss hadn’t killed me, the nerves might.

  “If it’s that I’m your T.A. and the rules, then we’ll figure that out if it comes to it. You know I sure as hell wouldn’t show you any favoritism.”

  “It’s not that, though it does pose its own set of problems.”

  “Then, what is it?” he asked.

  I paused, unsure if I could trust him with such a secret part of me when I hadn’t with anyone else. Maybe it was because he’d always treated me without holding anything back. That he pushed me out of my comfort zones that made me say it.

  Because it was the biggest comfort zone I had left, and it was now or never.

  “I’m a virgin,” I said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DASH

  “A VIRGIN,” I repeated.

  Layla’s cheeks burned bright red, but I didn’t think it was because she was still turned on.

  “That’s right,” she said. In a move that was entirely Layla, she didn’t look away in embarrassment. That color rode high in her cheeks and her eyes were bright with emotion, but she held my gaze as I rolled the new information around in my head.

  I settled on, “Thank you for telling me,” when I could get my brain and mouth to make a meaningful connection again.

  Her lips trembled with humor. “You’re welcome?”

  I scrubbed a hand through my hair and laughed. “You gotta give me a minute to wrap my head around this.”

  She shrugged. “There’s nothing to wrap your head around. Tonight was a mistake.” Turning, she unlocked her door, trying to play it cool, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers trembled around the keys.

  “Can I come in?” I asked quietly. “I think we should talk.”

  “There’s nothing we need to talk about.”

  “Bullshit,” I replied.

  “I don’t think so. It was a mistake. Nothing good could come from taking this any further.”

  “If you truly believe that, then sto
p me from coming inside.”

  With my eyes on hers, I reached past her and pushed open her front door. Her arms fell limply to her side. Tension rolled off her in waves, but she didn’t stop me as I moved around her and into her apartment.

  I knew I shouldn’t be there. If I had any sense of self-preservation at all, I’d turn around, tell her we’d keep our relationship strictly professional—aside from the occasional exchange of insults—and never see her again unless it was in a crowded room.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead, I ventured farther into her apartment. Unlike Ember’s cluttered chaos, Layla’s place was tidy. A small cream sectional framed the living space, draped with a soft, blue blanket and emerald throw pillows—the kind of shit I’d never think to put in my own apartment. Other jewel-toned accents throughout the room made the place homey and attractive. It’s must have been her artist’s eye that gave her such a knack for color.

  I took a seat on the couch and faced Layla, who’d closed the door behind her, but hadn’t come any closer. Patting the spot on the couch next to me, I said, “Come here.”

  She hesitated, her arms crossed around her waist, then joined me, sitting stiffly, but her eyes were on me, which I took as a positive sign.

  “Do you want me to resign?” I asked before she could clam up any more than she already had.

  Layla’s eyes shot to mine. “No!” she exclaimed. “Of course not.”

  “If it’s the conflict of interest you’re worried about, I’ll figure something out.”

  “I’d never ask you to do something like that, Dash.”

  “Then, what is it? Talk to me, sweet cheeks.”

  The name had her mouth tightening with anger, like I knew it would. I’d much rather have her spitting fire at me than clamming up like she was.

  “I don’t want you to think of me like a conquest. Just because I’m the only woman who’s ever said no to you, doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get in my pants so easily.”