Under Pressure (Lessons Learned Book 1)

by Smartypants Romance

  Kelsey’s mom was always really restrictive with her diet. I think it’s why she doesn’t have a clue how to cook anything now.

  She leans forward to grab a hair tie off the coffee table and ties off my braid. “Voila. You’re finished.”

  I cautiously touch the back of my head, stroking the thick mass of hair. “Thanks.” I’ll just be taking it out soon, unable to sleep with it this tightly bound. I’ll have a headache when I wake otherwise.

  She grabs the last handful of popcorn, stuffing it in her mouth. “Hey, will you make some more?”

  “Hold on, this is my favorite part.” Westley tumbles down the hill, calling out As you wiiiish.

  “Please? I’m starving.”

  Jesus, she already ate a whole bag. I mean, it was probably one of her stupid one hundred calorie bags. I always wonder what the point is of her buying those when she eats three in a single sitting, but what do I know?

  On the screen, he and Buttercup embrace, my heart warming at their reunion. What would it be like to have someone love you that much, to come back for you like that?

  “Mia?”

  “It’s your popcorn, why don’t you get it?”

  “You’ve already seen this movie,” she whines. “I haven’t.”

  What, she can’t pause it? “Fine,” I grumble, heading to the kitchen. Well, if I have to make popcorn, I’m at least going to use one of my own bags. I stick it in the microwave, watching through the breakfast bar as they head into the fire swamp.

  When I set the filled bowl down in front of her, she greedily grabs another handful, pausing as the first piece hits her mouth. “This has butter.”

  Yeah. What’s the point in eating it if it has no flavor?

  “Why didn’t you cook one of the fat-free bags?”

  “You asked me to make popcorn, so I made it. This is the kind I like.” Besides, she eats the desserts I bake all the time. Those definitely aren’t fat-free. I pop a few pieces in my mouth, the warm butter and salt melting on my tongue. Mmm.

  “Ugh, do I have to do everything by myself around here?” She gets up dramatically and stomps into the kitchen, angrily opening the pantry door to rip open a bag, and smashes the buttons on the microwave.

  I calmly pick up the popcorn bowl and head into my room, not caring about her theatrics right now. This is why we stopped those sleepovers halfway through high school. It always devolved into something like this. That, and she discovered boys. I’m still not sure why I even got a place with Kelsey to begin with. Our moms pushed for it, and I didn’t have anyone else I wanted to live with, so it was convenient.

  But we’ve diverged too much lately, different people now than we were as little girls, forced on play dates together. But it would probably be too awkward to try and find another roommate for senior year, and Mom wouldn’t be happy, even though she’s moved away now and doesn’t see Kelsey’s mother regularly anymore.

  I settle on my bed, pulling out my laptop to get started on an assignment for my Statistical Reasoning class. It would have been nice to finish the movie. I haven’t seen it in years, since I lived with my parents. But I know how it ends.

  Some things don’t change.

  “Thanks, guys.” I wave. “I’ll see you next week.”

  I exit out of one of the private study rooms in the library where I’ve been meeting with two other girls in my Abnormal Psych class to study. We formed the group spontaneously one day after moaning about how hard it is to keep track of all the many disorders with similar, yet not quite the same, symptoms. It’s made a world of difference in my comprehension of the dense material.

  Now I’m wondering if I should try to do the same thing in my Mythology class. Maybe then I won’t feel like an idiot every time Dr. Vasquez calls on me.

  I hug my jacket tighter around me as I leave the library and turn toward the psych building. I’ve got twenty-five minutes till my first biofeedback session, and nearly ten of that will be spent walking across campus.

  “Hey, Mia.”

  I startle, looking away from the sidewalk in front of me to find Brad, sitting on a bench just off the path, a Starbucks cup in his hand. His golden hair shines in the weak sunlight filtering down through the clouds, a charming smile on his face. I’d be nervously flattered if he’d singled me out and smiled last semester during our class together, but it isn’t quite the same now.

  After earning Tyler’s hard-won smiles, anything else seems second-rate.

  “Hi, Brad, how are you?” I’m reflexively polite, even though I actually have somewhere to be and don’t really want to talk to him. Damn my parents for instilling their native Midwestern values in me.

  “I’m good,” he says, before bringing a hand up to the back of his neck sheepishly. “Listen, sorry about dropping out of the study.”

  “No big deal,” I tell him, not wanting any forced apologies. “Things like that happen all the time. We actually recruit extra participants knowing some will drop out.”

  Why am I continuing to speak? I need to leave. Besides, I’m glad he left. It solved a lot of problems, not only with the data trend and not having to confess everything to Dr. Price, but also with Tyler. It’s what led to him suggesting this arrangement to begin with.

  “Oh, good,” Brad says, visibly relieved.

  I go to continue down the sidewalk, but he keeps speaking. “It’s just that I realized I liked you. And it would be too hard to come to the lab every week and sit there next to you, knowing nothing could happen between us.”

  My jaw drops, my momentum to leave gone. He actually feels that strongly? I seriously thought him asking me out was a casual, spur-of-the-moment thing.

  “So now that I’m not part of the study anymore, maybe we could go out for that coffee?”

  My mouth opens and shuts in a spot-on impression of a fish until I blurt out, “I’m already seeing someone.”

  He nods, the hope in his eyes fading. “That’s what I figured. It’s Tyler, isn’t it?”

  My jaw mentally hits the floor now. How did he know? We’ve been careful to always act professionally in front of Dr. Price and our participants.

  Oh yeah, except him.

  His lips twist wryly at my silence. “The way he looks at you when you’re doing the biofeedback, the way he defended you… I had a feeling, but I had to take a chance anyway.”

  I don’t confirm or deny anything he’s saying, too astounded. “I, um,” I start, not sure what to say. “I actually have to get to the lab right now.”

  He checks his watch on his wrist. Who wears watches anymore? “This early?”

  “Yeah, I have five other people I meet with before your appointment. At least, when you used to come,” I finish awkwardly.

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you. Maybe we’ll have another class together next semester.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I chuckle weakly, escaping as fast as I can without being obvious. Why in the world would he want to see me again? I just said no to him twice.

  I speed-walk toward the psych building once I’m out of his sight, out of breath by the time I reach our room in the Stress Lab. Not that I’m anywhere near late, but I wanted to be here early to tell Tyler—

  Wait, I’m not going to tell him anything about running into Brad. That will only set him off. Besides, I have no desire to admit he was right again after he insisted Brad was into me. He doesn’t need his ego fed any more.

  He gives me a head nod as I drop my backpack on my desk, returning his attention to his computer. Everything is already set up the way I like, along with our data spreadsheet up on his screen.

  Was Brad right? Does Tyler really watch me when I’m not looking? Or was Brad just seeing what he wanted to see to justify to himself why I wouldn’t go out with him? I mean, I never actually told him he was correct. For all he knows, I could be with someone else. Or completely lying.

  Why wouldn’t Tyler watch you? He wants to make sure you’re doing your job right. How you perform reflects on him to
o. If you screw up the study, he’ll be pissed.

  Hmm, that’s true.

  “You have any cupcakes for me?”

  “What?” I come out of my reverie to find him smirking at me.

  “Brownies? Cookies? How about some of that pie you promised me?”

  I glance around as if I actually do have it hidden somewhere. “Does it look like I have anything big enough to carry a pie around in?”

  “It could be in your backpack.” He gets out of his chair, coming over to stand by my desk.

  “It’s full of books.” My breath catches at how close he is now.

  “Maybe, uh, hiding under here?” He tugs at the hem of my shirt playfully, a wicked glint in his eye. Is he… flirting with me?

  I’ve never been any good at flirting. Once I realize that’s what’s happening, I get all caught up in my head, trying to make it sexy, but it never comes out that way. “You think I’m hiding a pie under there?” My voice sounds skeptical, rather than the sultry tone I intended. But really, how can I make pie sound passionate?

  “There’s only one way to find out.” He slips his hands under my shirt, his fingers warm as they glide across my stomach. Now, he makes flirting seem smooth. No awkward pauses, no cringey comments.

  I sigh under his touch, my body swaying toward him. He steps in closer, whispering in my ear, “Hmm, not here. Maybe higher.”

  Between his deep voice and his fingers teasing the underside of my breasts, I’m in sensory overload. “Um, yeah, higher.”

  Wow, it’s truly amazing he finds you as attractive as he does. You’re a regular seductress.

  Shut up. I must be doing something right if he’s actually continuing upward, his hands molding themselves over my bra, the pressure sending a zing through my belly. He gently folds down the cups, his palms hot on me now, his calluses rough against my tender skin. It feels glorious.

  “I’m beginning to think there’s no dessert for me at all. Nothing creamy, decadent, sinfully good.” He shapes each word slowly, enunciating in my ear, shivers racing down my spine at the erotically charged words. I should have never told him how much I like his voice. “I guess I’ll have to settle for something else.” He lifts my shirt, fully exposing me, bending down to take a nipple in his mouth.

  I brace myself against the desk, part of me knowing we shouldn’t be doing anything right now, the other part not caring one bit.

  My phone dings from inside my backpack, signaling that it’s time for appointments to start, and Tyler lifts his head, the haze of lust clearing from his eyes. His gaze flicks to the clock on the wall, then to me, quickly setting my bra back in place and lowering my shirt. “Sorry, I got carried away there.”

  He walks over to his desk, staring at me, waiting for me to say something. I take a second to put my scrambled brain back in order, the feel of his mouth on me still lingering. “That’s okay. I liked it.”

  He nods and opens his mouth to reply, but a knock on the door interrupts us. It’s Jada, our first participant of the day.

  I rush to open it, smoothing down my shirt and running my hand over my hair in case it’s out of place. “Hi,” I tell her breathlessly, feeling like Tyler and I were caught, even though we were nowhere near each other when she entered.

  I glance over at him one more time, but he’s looking at his computer monitor, not me.

  A heavy stone sinks in my stomach but I push it aside, focusing instead on running Jada through the sequence.

  I guess the moment’s over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tyler

  “Your group is doing really well,” Mia comments, leaning in close beside me to take a better look at the spreadsheet I have up on the screen. “The difference between them and the control group should be statistically significant.”

  I shut my eyes briefly, breathing in deeply of that wonderful Mia essence. How does she always smell so sweet? Does she douse herself in vanilla extract or something?

  “Also, I really like your tattoo.” She smiles, motioning to the blue unicorn on my forearm, glitter still stuck to it. I rolled up my sleeves unthinkingly after our last participant left.

  I’m glad she didn’t try to pick up where we left off before Jada showed up. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to start anything then, when we could have been caught at any moment. Did I subconsciously want that? Or was I simply not capable of any thought at all once I’d had my hands on her, her delicious scent in my nose?

  I shake my head, trying to remember what she just said. God, she’s scrambling my wits even now. She saw my tattoo. “You’ll probably like this one even better.” I lift my sleeve so my bicep is exposed, showing her the purple mermaid.

  She covers her mouth with her hand, eyes sparkling as brightly as the glitter clinging to my arm. “I love it.”

  I pull my shirt back down, explaining, “My sister did them.”

  “That’s sweet of you to let her do that. How old is she?”

  “Eight.”

  “Wow, that’s a big age gap. What…” She does some mental math. “Thirteen years?”

  “Between her and my oldest brother it’s eighteen.”

  “Good lord. I can’t imagine going to my child’s high school graduation with my newborn too.”

  “Yeah.” That’s actually exactly what happened.

  My phone vibrates then on the desk between us. To my horror, it’s Mom. The words Did you invite Mia to my birthday party? flash on the screen, in full view of said girl. Stupid phone displays, showing every message that comes in right there for anyone to see.

  I scramble to pick it up, holding it to my chest. When I glance over, her eyes are wide.

  She points to it, her mouth gaping like a fish for a second before she asks, “Was that my name on your phone?”

  “No,” I deny, way too quickly for her to actually believe me.

  “It was,” she insists. “Did it say something about a birthday party?”

  I try to turn the tables back on her. “Why are you snooping in my phone?”

  “Snooping?” she laughs. “It was right there on the desk. I’d have to be blind not to see it. Who was it?”

  “My mom,” I mutter.

  “Your mom?” She looks gleeful, a wide smile on her face.

  I roll my eyes. “She said I should invite you to this dumb family get-together they’re having for her birthday this weekend. I told her you obviously don’t want—”

  “I’d love to come,” she interrupts.

  “You would?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  I stare at her, slack-jawed. “Why?” It sounds like the seventh circle of hell to go to someone’s house and make small talk with their family, but what do I know?

  “It sounds fun,” she says easily, highlighting a very fundamental difference between our personalities. “I’ll bake her a special birthday dessert. And I want to meet the superwoman who handled that range of kids.”

  “Um, okay.” I turn back to the screen, unsure what to say. Seriously, why would she want to go? And why does something in me ease at the knowledge she’s coming with me?

  Maybe she could… be a buffer between me and my family. Yeah, that’s a good idea. I can sic her on Dan, that way he won’t talk to me the whole night.

  I relax, having a plan in place.

  I tap the steering wheel with my thumb, restless energy coursing through me. I should have gone to the gym this morning, burned it all off. Should’ve known I’d be antsy driving over here tonight.

  “Are you nervous?” Mia asks from the passenger seat, her gray eyes luminous in the dim light from the streetlights outside.

  “No.” My left leg jiggles up and down, belying my words. Shit. “But I should probably warn you about my family.”

  “Oh? Are they deranged criminals? Sociopaths? Should I be on the lookout for anything in particular?”

  I twist my lips. “They… I…” I’m unsure how to start.

  She nods encouragingly and I take
a deep breath.

  “I don’t look like any of them for starters.”

  “Okay…”

  Yeah, that doesn’t really explain anything. I rub the back of my neck. “All my siblings are actually half-siblings.”

  “Did one of your parents remarry?”

  Yeah, each other. I sigh, searching for another way to begin. “We haven’t always gotten along well.”

  “The anger as a teen?”

  “Right.”

  The silence lengthens between us. “Was that the end of the story?” she asks after a minute, amused. “I mean, I know you’re not big on conversation, but that was a bit of a letdown.”

  A chuckle escapes me, which I’m sure was her goal, tension releasing from my shoulders. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything. Let you draw your own conclusions.”

  “You’re being awfully cryptic.”

  It’s hard to paint Dan in the evil light I’ve always put him in after overhearing that conversation. But I can’t be wrong about my whole life. I saw how he used to look at me.

  But maybe that was just me seeing what I wanted to see. Blaming him… so I wouldn’t have to blame my mom.

  “Do you get along with your family?” I ask instead.

  “Yeah, I love them.”

  Of course she does. Her Hufflepuff heart loves everyone. Even feels sorry for Brad.

  I push that thought aside. I’m not getting started on him.

  “I’m an only child,” she continues, “so me, my mom, and dad have always been super close.”

  I can’t relate at all.

  “My parents divorced when I was a year old. Dan found out he wasn’t my biological father.”

  “Oh,” she breathes, then a louder, “Oh!” a few seconds after as she makes the connection.

  “Yeah, so my two older brothers would go to visit him on the weekends, but I’d stay with my mom.”

  “I’m guessing that’s part of the anger?”

  I nod. “But then they got back together later, ended up having another kid. That’s Riley, my baby sister.”