The Boy Next Door (Sorority Secrets)

by Stevie J. Cole

  “Yep,” he says, pouring the array of liquors into the glass.

  I watch from the corner of my eye as she primps herself, adjusting her stance so her fake boobs poke out. Evan slides her drink across to her. “Wanna start a tab?”

  “Sure. Oh, did you get a new tat?” She brushes her finger over the raven feather tattoo on his forearm.

  “Yep.”

  “That’s so hot.”

  I want to roll my eyes.

  She hands him her card, then throws one last grin at Evan before she walks away.

  “God, the fact that she noticed you had a new tattoo is borderline stalker.”

  He laughs and walks to the side of the bar to take another drink order. I follow suit, filling orders for long island iced teas, sex on the beach, and more shots of screaming orgasms than I want to count. Every once in a while, I glance at Evan and I tell myself it’s perfectly normal to have a thing for your best friend.

  Chapter Two

  Evan

  “The Cupid Shuffle” blares through the speakers. I’ve heard that song so many times tonight I’m borderline ready to bang my head against the wall. Thankfully, it’s one o’clock, which means last call is in half an hour. Everyone inside is well over their limit, and I’m debating on calling it early...

  Emma steps out from the back, carting a rack of clean glasses. That damn skirt is caught in the rack, showing too much thigh. She’s so busy concentrating on what she’s doing, she doesn’t even notice me staring at her exposed leg, or adjusting the soft-long I’ve developed from staring at it.

  She moves behind me. The glasses clatter when she drops the rack on the counter.

  Earlier tonight, like most nights, when we were opening, I made sure to stock the glasses on the bottom shelves. I’m surprised she hasn’t figured out that I do it on purpose yet. Maybe I’m a jerk but I love the little peep show I get when she puts the glasses away on that top shelf.

  I give it a second before I turn around, catching her on her tiptoes, reaching. The skirt she’s wearing hikes up just enough that I can see the curve of her ass, and I immediately need to adjust my dick. Again.

  Unlike the other guys, I didn’t need a stash of Playboys under my bed in high school. I had a clear shot of Emma’s bedroom window, and to be honest, after years of imagining what her naked body must feel like, like Pavlov’s dog, my dick has been trained to get hard at the very sight of her.

  She turns around and my gaze trails over her body, over those full lips I want to bite and nibble. There’s an unamused look on her face and her eyes are homed in on the tent I’m sporting.

  “Really?”

  I shrug. “You have a nice ass.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she rounds the counter, and my eyes go right back to her ass. “Seriously, Em, when did you get such a great ass?” She’s always had a great ass...

  “You have issues.” She grabs a tube of lip gloss from beside the register and makes a show of slowly slicking her lips with it. Those lips would look perfect wrapped around my cock, with Emma’s blue eyes staring up at me.

  When she’s done using the lip gloss as a cock tease, she tosses it on the counter. Of course it rolls off, right to the floor. And what does Emma do? Bends the fuck over to pick it up. In that short skirt.

  Fuck.

  That’s it. My dick has never been this hard in my life. It feels like it’s going to split open. I try to adjust it so it’s not obvious, but there is no way in hell I can make it through the rest of the night, with her in that damn skirt, without doing something about this.

  There’s only a handful of people in the bar. She can manage the front for five minutes. “Hey, Em. I gotta go get something,” I say, on my way to the back.

  “I don’t need to know your every move.”

  I flip her the bird before disappearing into the supply room.

  The door closes behind me. I lock it and flip the light.

  My dick throbs, begging for relief. I glance around at the metal racks filled with cans of beer and toiletries while quickly undoing my fly. This is what she does to me, works me up to the point that I have to lock myself in a closet to beat one out. And she has no idea.

  With a sigh, I pull my cock out. Just touching it when it’s this damn hard provides a little relief. I lean against the door, gripping it while thinking about Emma. About her ass, her lips. About how it would feel to bury myself balls deep inside her while her thighs wrapped around my hips.

  Tight and wet and all mine. I hiss a breath at the thought. God, I would ruin her if she’d let me.

  A bead of precum rolls from the tip as I work my hand up and down, pretending I’m fucking Emma’s pussy as I frantically chase an orgasm.

  A small moan leaves my lips when the heat spreads through my stomach. Sweat beads on my forehead. My balls tighten and I use my free hand to grab them, rolling them between my fingers. My muscles tense and that heat explodes like a dormant volcano that’s been waiting ions to erupt.

  “Fuck, Em.” I double over, groaning through the orgasm, my heart pounding. When the last bit of pleasure jerks through me, I collapse against the door, staring at the mess on the floor.

  If that girl only knew what she did to me.

  After I stuff my dick back in my pants, I grab a handful of paper towels and wipe up the mess I just made, then grab a package of toilet paper and go to restock the restrooms.

  When I get back to the bar, Em lifts a curious brow. “What were you doing back there?”

  Heat burns over the back of my neck. Beating one out to the thought of you. “There was a rat in the supply closet,” I say.

  “A what! A rat?” Her eyes go wide.

  “Yeah. I got rid of it. Don’t worry.”

  Her expression goes soft. “You didn’t kill it, did you?”

  If I say I killed the rat, she won’t talk to me for the rest of the night. “Of course not,” I say, squeezing her shoulder. “I scooped it up in the dustpan and put it out back.”

  That earns me a wide smile. “You’re so sweet, Ev.” She pats my back as she struts around me. “I’m going to get some more glasses.”

  She disappears to the back, and I settle in behind the bar, feeling like a lead weight has been lifted off my dick.

  The front door flies open and slams against the wall with a bang, but no one in the bar even flinches. Winston Carlson, frat boy extraordinaire, staggers in solo, which tells me he must have been kicked out of Killigan’s across the street.

  When he reaches the bar, he leans over the counter and winks at me. “Emma working?” he asks, and his ultra-bleached, trust-fund smile makes me want to punch him right in the face.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “You know, I thought you were a man’s man, Drake.” He laughs. “But what kinda guy would be friends with a girl like Emma and not have fucked her at least once?”

  As much as I hate him, he’s right. What kind of guy wouldn’t have slept with her? Me. The guy with the bad reputation. The guy she knows she’s too good for.

  The guy who has been in love with her since he met her on the playground when they were six.

  That’s the problem, I’m in love with my best friend, and I can’t risk freaking her out. I fucking love that girl, but it’s better to love her and never have her the way I want than lose her altogether.

  Winston slaps his hand on the counter. “Shithead? You gonna answer my question?”

  “What do you want to drink?” I ask, annoyed.

  “Coors.” He takes a seat at the bar, folding his arms over the counter. “Now, the question is...what lucky bastard is going to get to pop that sweet cherry?”

  “I swear to God, if I wasn’t at work I’d beat your ass.” My jaw tightens as I grab a beer from the cooler. I don’t want to think about Emma giving herself to some asshole like Winston. I�
�ve done my best to keep guys away from her. The one time she did have a steady boyfriend—fucker—I managed to climb through her window any time they were alone. In a way, I pride myself in acting as her own personal chastity belt, but I can’t do that for the rest of my life.

  I pop the top before placing the beer in front of Winston. He takes a sip while glaring at me.

  “Ah.” He chuckles. “You don’t know about the auction, do you?”

  “That beer’s four bucks, dipfuck.”

  “You should look it up, Drake. The virgin auction Beta Kappa Nu is putting on.”

  How drunk is he? Those girls are the goody-goodies on campus. They volunteer at the animal shelter. Take bananas to the retirement home. They are the last girls that would ever do a virginity auction. Maybe he has them confused with the Kappa Omega Mu girls...

  “Four bucks,” I say.

  He fishes his wallet from his pocket and tosses a five on the counter. “It’s almost too good to be true. An entire sorority of virgins up for grabs—your precious little Emma included.” He chugs his drink, then slams the can on the counter before belching. “And just to be clear, that pussy is as good as mine.”

  The way he’s talking about my Emma makes me want to punch him. My jaw clenches. Heat fires over my face, spreading down my neck and arms until my hands are drawn into tight fists. You can’t beat his ass in the bar. You cannot beat his ass in the bar...

  The door leading to the kitchen opens and Emma steps out with another rack of glasses. Winston catcalls at her, and she breezes right past him.

  “Ah, come on, Emma. When are you gonna let me take you out?” he says, pushing away from the bar and following her around to the side. Just as she sets the glasses on the counter, I move to block Winston’s path.

  With a smile, he peers over my shoulder, nodding. “Fuckin’ A.”

  I spin around and see Emma bent over, her ass on display. “I’ll get the glasses,” I snap.

  Emma pushes the last glass on the shelf, then turns and glares at me. “What’s your deal tonight?”

  “Nothing.” I face Winston again. “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  With an arrogant chuckle, he slowly retreats. “I have a feeling that in a week, after a nice little bid, I’ll be having that date.”

  “A fucking virgin auction, what a dumbass. What kinda girl would...” When I spin around, Em is frozen in place with her cheeks a telltale pink. Surely, she wouldn’t do something like that and not so much as mention it to me. “No.” I drag my hand over my face. “Please tell me he’s full of shit?” Her gaze falls to the ground and she drags the toe of her Converse over the grimy tile floor. “Em!”

  Shrugging, she coyly glances up and offers a halfhearted smile.

  Holy shit! “You have got to be kidding me!” I groan. “Jesus...”

  Her expression crumples, and I know then that dipfuck wasn’t telling a lie.

  I grab the bar towel, shaking my head as I wipe over the counter. “Fuck that, Em. I can’t believe you would do some shit like that! Why would you do something like that?”

  “Evan.” She grabs my arm. “Just listen for a second.”

  “I’m not letting you do it.”

  She laughs. “Oh, that is rich.”

  “Serious, Em.” I glance over my shoulder at her. I can’t get the image of Winston stripping her clothes off, kissing her...fucking her...out of my head. My cheeks sting with an angry heat.

  Her jaw tenses, her nostrils flare, and she crosses her arms over her chest before popping her hip to the side. It’s her signature stance and it tells me I’ve just royally pissed her off. “Like you can say anything to me!”

  I toss the bar towel on the counter. “You’re my best friend, and you think I’m supposed to let you make some dumb decision. Jesus, you don’t sell your virginity to a stranger.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t give your virginity away to your pre-cal teacher, either.”

  That was a low jab, and one that makes my gut twist any time it’s mentioned. Miss Beasley, the blond bombshell of a teacher that was all legs and tits, she saw me struggling and offered to tutor me. Things may have gone further than they should have, but the rumors definitely went further than I ever did. But what sixteen-year-old boy is going to say he didn’t fuck his hot-ass teacher? I was a virgin who earned golden player status overnight.

  The thing Em doesn’t know—the thing no one knows—is that I’m still a virgin. I mean, sure, I’ve messed around. I’ve done everything but have sex, because every time I got to the point of no return, I couldn’t go through with it. It just felt like I was betraying Em.

  And yet here she is about to sell her virginity?

  No fucking way I’m letting that happen.

  She stares at me, gnawing at her lip. “Ev...”

  “I don’t want to see you make some stupid mistake you’ll end up regretting for the rest of your life,” I say, hoping she can hear the sincerity in my voice.

  She attempts to walk past me, but I grab her arm. “Em...” I lower my voice to a whisper. “You’re basically letting someone pay to fuck you.”

  “It’s a charity auction.” I see the hesitation, the doubt in her eyes, but she’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, so she’d never admit there’s something morally compromising about the situation. Surely, she sees how fucked up this is?

  “And you’re not my father, Evan. Or my boyfriend.” Her eyes narrow. “Or anyone who has any right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.”

  And now, I want to strangle her. “A group of girls throwing out their virginity like it’s a fucking Kit Kat bar at a Christmas parade is not charity, it’s prostitution!”

  Her eyes widen. She sucks in a deep breath. “You’re an ass,” she says through gritted teeth.

  “Hey, I need another drink, Drake,” Winston calls from the bar, but I ignore him.

  “It’s fucked up, Em,” I whisper. She snatches her arm away from me and storms off.

  When I turn around, Winston’s eyes are trained on Emma. He bites down on his lip before looking back at me. “Don’t worry, Drake. I promise I won’t go easy on her.” My skin heats. “I’ll tear that pussy up. Just for you.” He smirks.

  My hand lashes out like a snake striking prey. I grab his shirt, yanking him across the bar before I punch him right in the face. He struggles against my hold and gets in a good shot to my left cheek that leaves me dazed. I stagger back into the wall, knocking a few bottles of liquor from the counter. Glass shatters everywhere as he lunges toward me. Thankfully, I move just as his fist goes through the sheetrock. We grab on to each other, pushing, shoving, punching. People try to tear us apart, but we’re both fueled by egos. Pride. Lust for the same woman.

  “You’re not going to fucking touch her,” I say with a growl, then I ram his head against the wall. He grunts before collapsing in a heap at my feet. Panting, I take a step back and wipe my hand underneath my busted nose.

  “Alright, buddy. You’re done here?” Derrick, the bouncer, pats my back as Winston feebly attempts to clamber to his feet.

  Derrick leans down and helps Winston up. “Shouldn’t go running your mouth...” He steps to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, get out before I call the cops.”

  Winston glares at me before he walks to the door, and Derrick leisurely goes back to the front, leaning against the wall by the entrance.

  I’ll put up with a lot of things, but I won’t put up with anyone disrespecting my girl like that.

  Chapter Three

  Emma

  Gripping the cool edge of the sink, I lean toward the mirror.

  Evan acted like it was an actual virginity auction. I try to laugh at how ludicrous that sounds. I mean, we’re only advertising that we’re virgins. Right? A virgin auction, not a virginity auction..
. Shit! I should have been paying attention when Jessie was telling me about this over the phone. Evan and his damn muscles!

  My heart slams against my chest. So what if it’s a legitimate virginity auction?

  It’s just sex. A basic human need.

  What makes that first time so special, anyway? It’s some idea society has pulled together to keep people from screwing in the streets, that’s all... Isn’t it? And it’s not like the guy I’ve fantasized about losing my virginity to is ever going to jump at the chance.

  Hesitation tightens my chest. I didn’t like the disappointed look Evan shot me. But more than that, I hate that he’s trying to play the role of moral compass.

  Shaking my head, I push back from the sink. How on Earth does the guy who lost his virginity to our pre-cal teacher, and who paraded a string of girls through his bedroom window in high school, think he’s fit to give me advice on what is appropriate? For the love of all things, guys have such double standards.

  Suddenly, there’s shouting from the bar. A loud bang rattles the wall, and just as abruptly as the commotions started, it stops. I brush my hands over my bar apron and slowly exit the restroom. As soon as the door swings shut behind me, I catch Winston on his way out the door. Tables are knocked over; chairs lay on their sides, and there in the middle of the mayhem stands Evan, his back to me. Shoulders rising on uneven swells. “What the hell happened?” I say, starting down the hall.

  Evan turns around, and I stop dead in my tracks. His face is bloodied. His shirt is ripped. “Evan?” I whisper, but he doesn’t say a word. He just thumbs under his nose before heading back behind the bar.

  “Alcohol and testosterone aren’t a good mix,” Derrick says as I pass the front door.

  “No kidding.”

  As soon as I’m behind the bar, the sour smell of cheap liquor assaults me. Broken bottles cover the counter and floor. “So....”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Evan grabs the broom from the side of the bar and begins sweeping the shards of glass into a pile.