Between Hearts: A Romance Anthology

by Alexander, Erica

  “We don’t need girls to have a good time.” Mike falls into step on my other side. “It can be just us guys tonight.”

  “I don’t think your girlfriend is really going to be cool with you ditching her for a guys’ night.” I don’t have the energy not to snark back at both of them.

  That and it’s clear Mike’s just waiting for the right moment to light into me. I may as well go on the offensive before he starts his shit.

  “I already told Chelsie I’d take her out tomorrow night,” Mike returns without missing a beat.

  Oh, shit. He’s going to make me suffer worse than yelling at me. He’s going to twist the knife even more by pretending to be sympathetic. Dammit, why won’t they just leave me alone to my misery? It’s gonna be hard enough to play basketball tonight and pretend that everything’s fine. My teammates count on me to play to the best of my ability. Faking it through four quarters will totally drain me for the night. Sitting at the diner afterwards and watching Alex flirt with random girls just isn’t in the cards for me. It would only be worse if Evie’s working tonight and her new boy toy stops in to whisk her away for a make out session after she gets off work.

  As if reading my thoughts, Mike nudges me. “Evie’s off tonight, so it’s cool. We can head there after the game then go back to Alex’s and play some PS3 until we pass out. You can take out all your aggression on Call of Duty.”

  “I’m not aggressive.” Whatever else I was going to say shrivels up in my throat as we round the corner to the junior hallway of lockers.

  There, directly in my line of sight, is one thing I never in a million years expected to see.

  Eddie Hinton presses Evie into her closed locker door, his hands cupping her face and his mouth plastered to hers. Time seems to come to a halt as the scene unfolds before my blinking eyes. His tall, lanky body encompasses her petite frame while he sucks at her face. I might not be a kissing expert, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that her mouth is open and his tongue is slicking through holy territory he clearly doesn’t treat the way he should. It’s as if he’s trying to slobber her into submission to prove to anyone who can see them that she’s his property to be used as he sees fit.

  Words float over my head, and hands on my shoulders burn as a pounding like I’ve never felt before starts in my chest and works its way out to my limbs. The throbbing energy seems to emanate from my fingers and my toes until everything in my sight beats in time with the thrum in my brain. The very universe and everything in it pulsates with unholy precision as the ground falls away beneath my feet. Sweat beads on my upper lip and trickles down my back from the fury that burns deep in my stomach.

  Out-of-body experiences are generally reserved for those who are near death.

  Is this what it feels like to die?

  “He’s such a fucking exhibitionist,” Alex mutters from somewhere on my left.

  That revelation is the final blow that steals the air from my lungs.

  He’s putting on a show for everyone to see.

  He’s marking my girl as his territory.

  And she’s letting him.

  Those should be my hands on her smooth skin, my lips worshipping hers, my tongue tangling with hers, my body flush against hers.

  She is supposed to be mine.

  Just as quickly as time slowed, it goes on fast forward. Students rush around to get to their lockers and then homeroom before the bell rings. The voices in my ears sound high-pitched and distorted. Heat fills my lungs as I gasp for the breath that escaped me for precious seconds. Eddie steps away from the only girl I’ve ever wanted, a smug smile on his face, then scurries away like a cockroach that’s finished feasting on today’s menu of garbage. Like she means nothing more to him than a toy to use for his pleasure, only to be cast aside when he’s satisfied.

  I never would have guessed Evie’s the kind of girl who wants to be treated that way. Clearly, I was wrong about her.

  I blink again and look down to the blonde standing directly in front of me, a flirty smile on her face. She bats her eyelashes like all the girls do and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. She looks and acts exactly like every other girl who gives me the time of day.

  Her body language suggests she’ll go down on me right in the middle of the hallway if I give her the go-ahead, and she’ll act like it’s her absolute honor. She hasn’t even spoken yet, but I already know that whatever escapes her mouth will be all fake-breathy and seductive-sounding. Too bad it won’t be anything in the least bit resembling actual conversation.

  They’re all the same.

  A bunch of horny, immature jersey chasers.

  These are the only kinds of girls who want me.

  I’m not good enough for the likes of Evie Papageorgiou.

  The blonde, who isn’t even trying to hide the fact that she’s eyeing my famous package, is clearly waiting for me to speak first, so I may as well get this over with.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “You sure can, Rob,” she giggles. “You can help me with anything you want, but I’d be happy with you getting us a big win tonight. Then maybe I can help you with whatever you need. Are you going to the diner after the game?”

  “Easy there, Sabrina.” Alex smirks. “Any hotter on the throttle and you’re gonna burn out the clutch.”

  She stares at him with a blank expression, obviously not understanding the allegory. “Um, okay.”

  The smile that spreads across my face feels forced but strangely automatic. “I could be persuaded to go to the diner tonight, but only if you’re going to be there.”

  You’d think I just told her that I found the cure for cancer by the way her face lights up.

  “Great! I’ll definitely see you there, then.”

  She takes one last hungry perusal of my body then glides her gaze down to my crotch before looking back up with a satisfied smile. Yeah, she wants the D. Probably that’s all she wants of me.

  She’s gone a heartbeat, or heartbreak, later.

  “Did you…” Alex trips a little as he walks beside me. “Did you just make a date all by yourself? That was smooth as fuck too! I’m so proud. My little bro is all growing up and acting like a real man.”

  I spin my combination into my locker on complete autopilot. My brain still hasn’t quite processed what I just saw and did. “First time for everything, I guess.”

  A large hand squeezes my shoulder from behind. Mike.

  “Rob, maybe you should wait a while. Give it some time. Get your head back in the game before going on the rebound.”

  The sound of my locker slamming closed echoes down the hallway and draws the attention of everyone in the vicinity. It’s all I can do not to punch it in retaliation.

  “Time for what, Mike?” I face him head on, staring right into his brown eyes, which look strangely calm after what he just saw as well. “Time to screw things up again? I can do that just fine all by myself. No point waiting for it to happen anymore. Waiting for the right time didn’t do fuck all for me, so I think I’m over that play. Maybe it’s time to make things happen the way I want.”

  The looks on Alex’s and Mike’s faces are so priceless that it’s a shame my phone’s in my locker. A picture is worth a thousand words, and right now, neither one of them is saying a damn thing. Their silence is deafening and freeing all at the same time.

  I brush past them and head to homeroom, my mind running a marathon. It’s well past time I quit being subtle and waiting for things to go down the way I want. All the best quarterbacks know how to make the play if it doesn’t happen. Time to start using that knowledge off the field instead of just on it.

  Time. What a ridiculous fucking concept. We all think we have it. The joke’s on us. Time is the only thing completely out of our control—and it’s constantly slipping away.

  So many sets of eyes are trained on me as I walk past. I’m done being under the microscope for everyone to watch and judge. If they want something to look at, I’m damn well
going to give them something good.

  “Who’s ready for the Warriors to kick some ass tonight?”

  My shout is met with wild cheers and whistles. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s knowing my game and how to play it well. All the world’s a stage, and it’s high time I started playing for my adoring fans.

  Fuck anyone who gets in my way.

  Four

  Never Again

  Junior Year, Evie

  “Mmm, Evie, you taste so good.”

  It’s not only the fact that Eddie’s mouth is a little too slobbery on my neck that makes my skin crawl. I also hate, hate, the way my name sounds on his lips.

  Forced, fake…sleazy.

  Actually, that might be me projecting onto him the way I feel about being in this truck, but whatever.

  “Please,” I tell him for the millionth time. “Call me Eva.”

  He abandons my neck, giving me a brief respite, to look me in the eyes with a confused expression. As if we haven’t had this conversation multiple times.

  “But everyone calls you Evie?” He ends his statement with a questioning inflection.

  Almost everything he says comes off unsure. It’s such an oxymoron that a guy who can’t let anything certain roll off his tongue should have the confidence of a Casanova in the dark cab of his truck, where no one can bear witness to his absolute lack of skill.

  My smile is decidedly less confident. “Yes, but it sounds so infantile. Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate…here?”

  Laughter nearly escapes me as he clearly tries to decode my too-big-for-his-jock-brain vocabulary, but he douses my urge when his copper eyes turn feral.

  “You’re right. Talking is the last thing we should be doing here.”

  He uses his much taller but lean frame to force me into a semi-reclined position, pressing my back against the passenger’s side door until the arm rest digs into my flesh to the point of bruising. My cry of discomfort goes unacknowledged as his mouth descends to its previous engagement of drooling on my neck.

  I squirm against his chest, but his weight is no match for me, and I can’t escape this predicament. Eddie has never seemed like he might be a physical threat. Taller? Sure. Muscular? Not even a little. Guess I should know better than to judge a book by its cover and make false assumptions.

  Fear clogs my throat, making it difficult to speak. “Eddie, get off. You’re hurting me.”

  “I’m hurting too, baby. Fucking dying here.”

  The sound of my nickname is bad enough with his skeevy voice, but hearing him call me something far more intimate brings bile into my throat. That nauseated feeling intensifies when he grabs my hand and directs me to rub his erection, which is pressed against his jeans.

  There’s no possible way to control the shudder that courses through me at the unwanted contact. It’s not that I’m so naïve as to be completely unaware of the male anatomy during arousal. It’s just that…my lady bits are in no way responding to his pheromone overload.

  Of course, the anti-Casanova mistakes my movement for something else entirely and releases my hand only so he can grind himself onto me, seeking friction my body instantly rejects.

  “Ohhh, yeah,” he moans into my skin. “You’re so hot for me. Turns me the fuck on?”

  Again with the question-statement. Is he unsure if he’s turned on? Because his dick is rubbing against my thigh and telling a totally different story. If I’m lucky, he’ll come in his pants and then this can be over soon.

  Eddie turns his attention to my mouth, lobbing his tongue in like some kind of deranged slug. For as many girls as he’s supposedly dated, I expected a better teacher in the art of kissing. Disappointment seems to be a running theme in my life though, and this experience is no exception. While it’s somewhat hypocritical to judge him for something I’m not very practiced at, either, I at least have the common sense to swallow rather than give him a drink of my saliva.

  Making the best of a bad situation is something I have experience with, and if nothing else, French-kissing with Eddie has taught me what not to do. The hope that he would follow my lead has been dashed time and again on our past several dates, but I’m nothing if not stubborn. If he insists on us parking after every date, then I’m going to use it for my own personal research. I open my mouth wider against his, battling his tongue for dominance. He relents and allows me entrance.

  No sooner have I managed a nice, stroking rhythm in his mouth than images of blue-green, enigmatic eyes; a dimpled, shy smile; and sandy-brown hair burn through my brain. My fingers thread through sticky locks laden with too much gel, and the spell breaks. My eyes pop open as Eddie resumes his wet tongue-fucking. Even in the dark, the image before me is nothing like what my mind conjured up. Eddie is tall and lanky, with a typical basketball player’s physique. He wears his dark-brown hair on the long side, and it usually flops down over his forehead. His amber eyes are often full of mischief, and his cheeks are smooth. No dimples to be found here, folks. Move along.

  He’s everything Rob is not. Including dull, witless, selfish, and completely horny at all times.

  What started out as innocent flirting to dispel the rumors that I might be a lesbian at school turned into Eddie making me feel not only beautiful, but wanted. That attention went to my head and quickly spiraled out of control. Just because Eddie made it publicly clear that he wants me didn’t mean any of the other guys at school saw things his way. More likely than not, they wonder what in the hell he sees in me.

  Eddie’s not a bad guy. He’s just not the guy for me, in spite of his efforts to convince me otherwise.

  Blinking tears back and struggling to breathe, I break off his latest attempt to drown me. His leech of a mouth migrates south again. If he doesn’t stop soon, he’s going to leave hickeys all over me, and I absolutely don’t want to deal with the amount of concealer necessary to hide that evidence. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way after our fourth date.

  “Eddie, can we…slow down a little?” My voice comes out weaker than I intended, and sure enough, my words go unheeded by the horny guy on top of me.

  He doesn’t back off, doesn’t even break contact as he uses his body to leverage my legs open so he can slide between them. The damn bench seat in the cab of his truck only makes it easier for him to maneuver me exactly the way he wants as my body slides over the tan leather with little resistance.

  My heart beats a rapid rhythm in my chest, punctuated by every sharp thrust of his erection against my body. How he can dry-hump me with both of us in jeans and feel any pleasure from it is beyond me. With every grind of his pelvis against mine, the soft cotton of my panties isn’t enough to prevent my zipper from biting into my sensitive skin.

  “Eddie, that hurts,” I whine.

  “I know it does. Fuck, my cock is throbbing.”

  At least he acknowledged me this time. I expect him to retreat back to his side of the truck, but once again…disappointment. Instead of shutting this down, he lifts his body off mine just enough to open the button and zipper of his jeans and shove his boxers and his pants down in one rough tug.

  His erection springs free, setting off a five-alarm cacophony of warning bells in my head.

  Using my momentary reprieve from his crushing weight, I pull my legs up and scramble into a crouched position in the corner of the seat.

  Forget weak. My voice downright shakes now. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  The corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile, half grimace. “You said you were hurting. Don’t you want me to make it all better?”

  Oh, hell no. “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “I know you’re a virgin, Evie. It’s okay. You don’t have to be scared. I know what I’m doing.”

  I seriously doubt that if the way he kisses is any indication. Even if he does know what he’s doing, I have zero desire to lose my virginity to Eddie Hinton. It was never supposed to go this far.

  He’s so lost in stroking his dick that he seems
completely unaware of the terror and the internal battle I’m currently waging.

  “Eddie, I can’t do this anymore.”

  “You can be on top, babe. I don’t care as long as my cock gets inside your sweet virgin pussy.”

  Any stupid notion I previously had for making myself seem more experienced by dating him flies away as he sits on the seat and grunts while he continues to masturbate in front of me. My dumbass idea has totally backfired. The only guy who desires me is ready to blow his load all over his pants while I fantasize about a guy who’s never shown me a bit of interest.

  “You’re not listening. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  Eddie seems to snap out of his haze of lust and gapes at me as his hand stills on his dick. “What do you mean, you don’t want to do this anymore? We’ve been on six dates. I think we’ve been together long enough to go through with this?”

  I bite my lip until the coppery taste of blood blooms on my tongue. Now doesn’t seem like the right time to remind him that he’s never asked me point-blank to be his girlfriend. Only because it would be logical for him to argue that everyone at school assumes I am, and I’ve said nothing to correct them.

  Then again, Eddie’s hardly logical.

  “Um…we’re not together. We’ve been on a couple of dates, yes, but that’s it. That’s all this is. Just dating.”

  Quite frankly, that’s the only thing keeping my guilt in check.

  I can’t quite make out the color of his face in the darkness that surrounds us, but I’ve no doubt that it’s red. He’s practically vibrating with anger.

  “And do you have any idea how much money I’ve spent on these six dates? Huh?”

  Well, we haven’t gone anywhere all that nice or fancy, so I’m betting not much. But, again, biting my lip. And my tongue.

  “I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time and money on you, Eva. I want a return on my investment.”

  I blink my eyes in slow shock. That might be the first sort of intelligent thing he’s said during the aforementioned six dates.