“Mitch!”
I turn and slam into a wall of muscle. Then I look up. And up.
“Drey.” My grin stretches, and I shake the hand of the near seven-foot-tall basketball player. We’re on the same business track, but we really bonded this past year over what it’s like to have an overbearing father who doesn’t believe in athletics as a profession. “Been a while.”
“It has.” His teeth flash against the brown of his skin. “I hope you’re not avoiding me.”
“Nah. You know how it is. School. Sports. The recruiters are coming around, so I’ve been focused on the game.”
He nods, dreadlocks swinging. “Understandable. Hey man, don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“You too, man. Good seeing you.” He heads down the hall while I shove through the crush of bodies leading to the kitchen.
There’s barely any room to move without stabbing someone with an elbow or stepping on someone’s foot. Austin and Casey are squished in between the fridge and the center island. Lydia stands with them, a glass of white wine in one hand while talking Austin’s ear off, Casey doing his best to pretend like he’s not interested in what they’re saying. Every so often he glances at Lydia, then rolls his eyes.
“Hey, assholes.” I slap my friends on the back. “Thought you could crash a party without me?”
Lydia turns, her smile so big and bright that some of my earlier gloom lifts. “Mitchell!” She throws herself into my arms, and I laugh and lift her up, crushing her to my chest. “It’s been so long.”
“I know.” Easing her down, I smile into her eyes. She’s a smart, beautiful young woman with long, honey blonde hair and delicate features that are almost feline in appearance. The similarities between her and Austin are scary. If I didn’t know differently, I’d guess they were twins. Physically, at least. In personalities, they’re polar opposites. I’m pretty sure the number of words Lydia says in one day are what Austin speaks in a year.
Casey glances over my shoulder as if searching for someone. “Where’s Rebecca?”
“Rebecca?” Lydia frowns. “Who’s Rebecca?” Her eyes slide to Casey. He doesn’t seem to notice. Or rather, he notices but purposefully ignores her, as I suspect she was doing to him just moments before.
“My girlfriend,” I tell her, a twinge of guilt pinching my chest that I’m here chasing after a different girl. Then again, we’re not really together. Besides, she’s ignoring me.
“So,” I say, snatching an unopened beer from the fridge and popping the top. “What’s new?”
Lydia rolls her eyes. “The usual. Austin’s saying nothing. I’m talking too much. Casey looks like someone shoved a stick up his ass.”
“What?” Casey straightens, eyes glittering. He towers over her by a good seven inches. She’s the only one I’ve ever seen rile him up, and she’s only a few inches over five feet. “If anyone has the stick shoved up their ass, it’s you.”
Emotion flares in Lydia’s gaze, and they stare at one another, neither backing down. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear the surrounding space gets a little heated.
Casey breaks eye contact first, flicking a glance at Austin. He mutters beneath his breath before taking a long swallow of his drink.
I turn to Austin and ask, “Have you seen her?”
Casey blinks, looking between both of us. “Who?”
Dryly, Austin says, “You were too distracted. It’s nothing important.”
Lydia downs the rest of her wine, smacks her lips, and makes her leave. “Well, I’ll leave you three ladies to your gossip.”
Casey makes a sound halfway between a scoff and a growl. But he tracks her body as she melts into the crowd, a line between his straight black brows. Another girl sidles up to his arm. He takes no notice of her.
“Last I saw her,” Austin says, “she was out in the backyard—”
I leave before he finishes that sentence.
With the horde of people crammed into the house, it takes me a solid five minutes before I locate the back door. The small stoop leads to a well-tended backyard with a kidney-shaped inground pool, a small vegetable garden, and a fire pit in the center of the patio, flames crackling merrily even though it’s barely fall. I scan the area for Blue Girl, my heart thumping faster. Something about us feels unfinished.
My attention locks on the back of long, dark, wavy hair, the firelight giving it a healthy glow. She’s facing away from me, speaking to another girl whose face I can’t place in the dim. Her short blue dress dazzles, the sequins like a thousand stars sewn into the fabric.
Is it ridiculous that I need to ready myself? Take a breath? Down a beer? Grab another, just so I have something to do with my hands?
Probably.
Fuck it. I’m going for it. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, fine. Might as well get used to the rejection, especially if it turns out the professionals don’t want me.
Putting on my cockiest smile, I slip up behind her. She’s chatting with her friend, gesturing wildly about something. “Hey, Blue Girl. What’s new?”
Chapter 16
rebecca
The party is a lot more fun than I thought it would be. People are playing chicken in the pool. And there are inner tubes. And beach balls. And it looks like someone set up a slip and slide on the grass. And also everyone is high, which is why I came outside, to escape the overwhelming reek of pot indoors.
Or maybe that’s the booze talking. I’m on my third beer and everything is starting to look a little hazy, all blurred lines and sounds melting together. I still don’t understand why there’s a fire going, since it’s barely seventy degrees out, but whatever.
This was a good decision, I decide, taking another sip of my very flat beer. I pause, lips pursed at the taste, then shrug and take another gulp. Yes, a very good decision. I deserve a break, a night free of worries, don’t I? Yes, I most certainly do. My thesis can wait until tomorrow. It’s funny. The more I drink, the less I think of Mitchell too.
“Hey, Blue Girl.”
I freeze.
Oh. Oh no.
A look of pure, unadulterated terror seizes my face. I can’t look at him. If he sees me, it’ll be all over. My eyes bore into Katie’s equally horrified expression. I grip my cup of beer so hard the plastic caves in, causing liquid to slosh over my hand and onto the ground.
How is Mitchell here?
Why is Mitchell here?
All the air evaporates from my lungs. Does he know? Does he know Rebecca’s the same person as this Blue Girl? He can’t recognize me from the back, can he? I’m wearing an incredibly revealing and unashamedly sexy dress—something Rebecca wouldn’t be caught dead in. Rebecca is a mouse. Blue Girl is a panther.
“Do you remember me? I’m Mitchell. We met at Ray’s last month.”
Katie hasn’t moved, and neither have I. Like we’re both waiting for him to miraculously vanish in a puff of smoke. But that would be too easy.
“Um, no, sorry.” I pitch my voice higher, the words slurred.
“How do you know? You haven’t even looked at me.”
His deep voice is right by my ear, and I shiver from how my traitorous body leans toward him. I’m remembering how that timbre vibrated against my skin as he brought me to impossible heights.
“Wait a minute.” He halts his approach. “Aren’t you Rebecca’s roommate?”
I clamp down on my gasp before it escapes. Katie’s eyes widen. They flit to me before focusing on a spot over my right shoulder where he’s standing. Lie! I want to scream it at her. Why can’t we be telepathic best friends? That would be so much more convenient.
“I am,” she says, the words wobbly.
“Is Rebecca here?” The way his voice deepens spears straight between my legs. I want to wrap myself in it like a warm blanket of fox fur. Does he realize how dangerous his voice is? It’s very dangerous. Like kryptonite. Or dynamite. Or chocolate.
I may be a wee bit drunk.
“Oh, I—I can’t say for sure. Um.�
�� A bead of sweat slides down her temple.
No. No no no no. When Katie panics—
“Y-yes. I think she is.”
Crap.
Mitchell takes a step closer. The heat of his body rivals that of the fire, warming the line of my spine. My eyes flutter as his clean, soapy scent wafts over me, and I fight the desire to turn around and lick a path up his neck. That would probably be weird.
“Is she here?” He presses her for information. “I’m assuming she came with you, right?”
“We haven’t seen her,” I cut in, voice shrill enough that it cracks on the last word. I cough to clear my throat. “I’m sure if you look around, you’ll find her. She might be in the garage. Maybe on the roof.”
He comes around to my left side, and I snap my head to the right, looking down, shielding my face with my hair. The motion causes the world to dip, and I stumble to the side. He catches me before I fall.
“Are you okay?”
He’s touching me. I wish it was somewhere much, much lower.
I need to get rid of Mitchell before I throw myself at him.
Putting a hand to my stomach, I groan, swaying on my feet. The unsteady balance isn’t really an act. “I don’t f-feel so well.” I peek at Katie through my hair, telling her without words to play along, and she lunges to grab my other side.
“I warned you about eating that six-day-old cookie dough,” she admonishes, hiding her laugh behind an exasperated sigh.
“Oh,” I moan, flinging my hand up dramatically and accidentally hitting myself in the face with the cup I forgot I was holding. Ouch.
Mitchell says, “Maybe you should sit down.”
Hunched over, I stumble into his side and dump the remainder of my beer over his shoes as I make a horrible retching sound. I groan loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” Honestly, and I’m a little disappointed in this, he doesn’t even sound mad. I shouldn’t be surprised. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few weeks, it’s that Mitchell is as easygoing as they come. Not even a drunk girl retching on his shoes can upset him.
“Here.” His hands steady me, warm against my tingly skin. One touch and I go up in flames. “Can I get you anything? Water?”
He’s too much. Too nice. Too everything.
And I’m lying to his face. Or rather, his shoes. God, I suck.
“She’s fine,” Katie says, wrapping an arm around my waist as I slump against her side, my hair hanging like a dark curtain between us. If I squint hard enough, I can make out his concerned expression through the strands.
Once he decides I’m in good hands, he asks Katie, “You’re sure you haven’t seen Rebecca?”
I’m sorry, her eyes plead to me. I can’t even get upset with her. It’s hard lying to someone so nice and genuine. Plus, Katie’s always been a terrible liar. “Last I saw, she was in the living room playing beer pong.”
I slant her a look. Beer pong?
She shrugs sheepishly.
“Thanks.” His footsteps, steady yet hurried, die away. The screen door claps shut on squeaky hinges.
Sinking to my knees, I cover my face and groan. That was way, way too close. Mitchell thinks Rebecca—sweet, quiet, old-lady Rebecca—is here. And I am here. Just not in the way he expects.
Katie snorts. “Puking on his shoes. Nice.”
I laugh, and it’s a little bit wild. “That was close.” Way too close. “Should we leave?”
Her mouth tugs down. “I guess.”
Immediately, guilt washes over me. Katie wanted to go out tonight. It’s not fair to ask her to leave because of my mess. She deserves to have a good time like we intended.
But I also can’t walk around looking like this. If Mitchell’s here, there’s a good chance his friends are too, and Austin is especially perceptive. Any of them could recognize me in this outfit.
I’m still dwelling on how to fix this when I remember the change of clothes in my car. Last week I threw them in the backseat on the off chance I would need them in an emergency. Thankfully past me was thinking ahead, because this is most definitely an emergency.
“I have another set of clothes in my car,” I tell Katie.
She nods, smiles, and eyes a good-looking Indian fellow sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs dipped in the water. “Don’t be too long,” she replies, though I know she means the opposite. Take as long as you need.
I begin the tedious process of attempting to walk in a straight line in heels with a very strong buzz. My heels sink into the soft grass, causing me to wobble until I reach the paved street, and then my car. After glancing around to make sure Mitchell and his friends aren’t around, I throw myself into the backseat and shut the door, then peek out the window. So far so good.
Somehow, I manage to change clothes without pulling a muscle or poking my eye out. With the aid of the passenger seat visor mirror and water from an old water bottle, I wipe the makeup from my face with a tissue found at the bottom of my purse. Luckily, I have my glasses in my car in case my contacts became too irritated for me to drive. I remove my contacts, slide on my glasses, and pull back my hair into a tight bun. Then I stare at myself in the mirror.
I don’t recognize myself.
This whole charade is starting to wear on me. In a perfect world, I should be able to go out to a party without worrying who I’ll run into, because in a perfect world, I’d only be Rebecca—one person, not two. Who am I trying to fool?
“Six more weeks,” I say to myself as I think of graduation. “And then you’ll be home free.”
Opening the passenger door, I heave myself out of the car, remembering too late I’m still wearing my heels. I didn’t bring an extra pair of flats. Guess that means I’m going barefoot.
I return to the backyard, but Katie has disappeared. No matter. If I’m going to face Mitchell, I definitely need another drink or two or seven.
The alcohol flows. I drink beer, liquor, wine. The cups are in my hands, and then they’re empty and I’m reaching for another one. I search for Mitchell’s broad shoulders, his shaggy brown hair and warm eyes. I try to pick up his resonant voice, his laughter amidst the cacophony of sound. At one point I spot Casey arguing with a pretty girl, but no Mitchell.
After near an hour, my bladder is close to exploding. A long line wraps around the hallway for the downstairs bathroom, so I head upstairs, weaving as I make my way up the carpeted staircase. It’s quieter here. The cooler air dries the sweat coating my skin. I hate these clothes. Why did I ever think wearing long sleeves was a good idea? After this semester, I’m never wearing wool again.
I do my business—thankfully without falling into the toilet—wash my hands, and open the door.
Mitchell’s lounging in the narrow hallway, one shoulder propped against the wall, arms crossed, watching me calmly.
A surge of adrenaline shoots to my head. My eyes flutter with sudden dizziness. I brace a hand on the door frame and act surprised, as if I had no idea he was here and running into him is completely coincidental. “Mitchell. Hi.” I suddenly can’t remember if I pulled back my hair, and my hand flies to my head. It’s restricted to a bun. Phew. “How are things?”
“You tell me.” His chin dips down, and he looks at me through his lashes, their dark fringe sweeping across his cheekbones.
“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” My focus drops to his lips. I have a burning desire to close the space between us.
“Why are you avoiding me, Rebecca?”
I shake my head. I was so focused on his mouth that I spaced out. “Can you repeat that?”
He pushes away from the wall. One step, two. He’s right there, his warmth and his energy surrounding me. My back touches the doorframe, sweaty palms pressed to the cool wall on either side of me. I see nothing but his dark eyes.
“Why,” he murmurs, closer now, “are you avoiding me?”
I don’t know what it is, but I
have a physical reaction to him when he’s near. This only started happening after that kiss in the park. Once that door opened, all these sensations sparked and flared into life. My body reacts to his scent. It’s primal. Old. Instinctive. What do they call those things? Pheromones?
Oh right. The question.
“I haven’t been avoiding you,” I say. “I’ve been busy, is all. I’m working on an important research paper.”
His focus locks on my mouth. “You mean to tell me you’ve been busy every day this week, every evening? What happened to our agreement?”
“Just because I agreed to be your pretend girlfriend doesn’t mean I’m going to drop everything that’s important in my life to cater to you.”
“You were the one who agreed to hang out twice a week in addition to the social gatherings, not me.”
He’s right. I did agree to that, but that was before I knew what his hard body felt like, before I experienced that explosive orgasm with no more than a bit of dry humping in the park.
The thought brings heat to my cheeks. I say, my words biting, “My eyes are up here.”
His gaze makes a slow, gradual ascent to my own. I clutch the doorframe harder. At this point, it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
He leans closer. “I can’t help it if you have such a tempting mouth.” His warm breath tickles my cheek.
My heart ratchets up higher, my pulse fluttering in my throat. If I were to step forward, our chests would brush. My nipples throb from the thought. “I just think it’s better to take some space for now. I’m focusing on school, you’re focusing on healing and training.”
“What about the contract?”
“I mean, I’m still going to be your pretend girlfriend.” Plus, I need the money. “But I can’t be spending all my free time with you. I have other priorities.”
The faintest line indents the space between his eyebrows.
Now for the final blow.
“And anyway—” If I could edge back, I would, but the wall is at my back. “It was just a kiss.”
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