by J. L. Beck
“No! Don’t say that. You are right. You should give it to someone worth giving it to. Don’t be like everyone else. Don’t ever be anything other than you. If it’s that important to you, then whoever you find will wait.”
She frowns, pushing her glasses up her nose.
“But you’re right, I’ll never find anyone if I stay hidden in my room.”
“You just need to come out of your shell a bit.”
“How am I going to do that?”
“That’s one thing I can help you with.” I grin, I owe her this. “If you want. If you think I’m worthy of being your friend.”
“Just friends?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Just friends.”
“Have you ever been just friends with a girl?”
The question makes me laugh. “No, but I’ll make an exception for you, Nerd.”
I still can’t believe I agreed to be just friends with Blair, but I know it’s the right thing to do. When I told Murphy about it, the fucker laughed so hard, he fell off the couch.
He’s still catching his breath from his laugh attack when he asks, “So, the bet is off?”
“Yes, it’s off,” I confirm. “We’re just friends.”
“And explain to me how that is supposed to work exactly.”
“Same way, we are friends. Just switch you out with a girl.”
“But I don’t have a vagina. She does.”
I snort. “Congrats, you know basic biology.”
“If she’s a friend, same as the guys, then you’re gonna invite her to the party tonight, right?”
Swallowing down my annoyance, I shrug. “Sure, why not. We can just hang out if she wants to.”
“Why don’t you text her now and ask?” He pushes. Asshole.
“Fine.” I take out my phone and start typing. I don’t want him to call my bluff.
Me: Hey, want to hang out tonight? There is a party at a friend’s house. Me and the guys are going. Wanna tag along?
She answers almost immediately.
Nerd: Last time I went to a party, some douchebag hit on me. Had to pour a beer over his head to get rid of him.
Me: Sounds like a real prick. I’ll make sure he doesn’t show up again.
This time it takes her longer to answer. I can imagine her sitting in her room, biting her lip, trying to decide whether to go or not. Part of me hopes she says yes, and the other hopes she says no. I’m a greedy fucker. I don’t want my friends to meet her or get to know her, but she needs to get out, and I’d love to be the guy to take her to a party, to watch over her and make sure nothing bad happens. I’ll be her wingman.
Nerd: Okay. I’ll come.
Me: Cool, we’ll pick you up in an hour.
“She’s coming with us,” I tell Murphy.
“Great! Let’s go pick her up then.” He grins from ear to ear.
“Great,” I echo his word, keeping my voice flat, so he doesn’t know how irritated I am. He knows this is a front, that I definitely don’t want to be just friends with her.
“You sure you don’t like her as more than a friend?”
“Positive.” I try to convince him, gritting my teeth.
He nods, seeming to finally believe me.
Great, now I only have to convince myself.
15
Blair
Stepping outside the dorm, I shiver as brisk air blows up my dress. I’m already regretting wearing it. It’s nothing sexy. A simple summer dress and sandals. It’s the cutest thing I could find. Smoothing a hand down the front, I hope it looks okay. I hope I look okay. Along with the dress and shoes, I applied some light makeup, nothing crazy or eye-catching. I feel different, and a smile pulls at my lips.
I can’t believe I agreed to go to a party with a guy as friends! It feels wrong.
Cage’s truck is already parked up front when I walk down the stairs and onto the sidewalk. He’s leaning against the side casually with his hands in his pockets, watching me approach with wary eyes.
Is he regretting inviting me already?
“Hey, you.” He gives me a tight smile and opens the back door for me. “You look nice.”
“Thank you,” I climb into the backseat, and find someone sitting up front. I guess I should’ve realized that when he opened the back door for me.
“Hey, Blair.” The guy in the front twists around so he can see me. I remember seeing him around, but I’ve never actually talked to him. “I’m Murphy, Cage’s best friend.”
One look is all it takes for me to know Murphy is very much like Cage. Athlete, handsome, cocky. So arrogant you want to punch him in his junk.
He’s got dark hair that’s longer on top and shorter on the sides, and his eyes are like two pools of soft amber. It’s hard to tell, but I think he’s a little shorter than Cage, though he’s built like a brick house just like his best friend.
Devilishly handsome, I bet girls shimmy out of their panties when he smiles at them.
“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”
Cage shuts the door behind me and walks around the truck to get into the driver’s seat. As we pull away from the dorm and head further into town, a bad feeling rises up inside of me. I think this was a mistake.
When we pull up to a frat house a few minutes later, my bad feeling only spreads outward. Panic clings to my insides like glue.
This feels all too familiar, and last time, the night ended badly.
Cage puts the truck in park and looks at me over his shoulder. “You okay? You look worried or like you might puke.”
“I’m just a bit nervous… I’m afraid I’m not going to fit in,” I admit, keeping the other part to myself. The part where I’m worried about what people might think seeing us together. People finally stopped calling me Ice Queen. I don’t need the rumor mill to start up again, or for people to think we’re an item just because they see us together.
“If anyone says anything to you, tell me, and I’ll let them know where to go with their opinion.” I can’t stifle the smile that splits my face.
“Same. I’ll kick their asses if they say anything mean. Any friend of Cage’s is a friend of mine,” Murphy adds, winking at me.
“See, nothing to worry about.”
Easier said than done. Of course, the two most popular guys on campus would think it’s that easy.
My anxiety only lessens a smidge, and I think I might barf, but I still get out of the truck and walk up to the house with Cage and Murphy flanking me on either side.
There is a crowd of people sitting on the porch, and as we walk up, every pair of eyes is on us, only fueling my concern.
A few guys greet Murphy and Cage with chin nods and fist bumps, but no one says a thing to me. When we get inside the crowded house, it doesn’t get any better, only worse. Music blares from speakers scattered about the room. The house is an exact replica of the night I met Cage.
Everything inside me tells me to turn around and run.
Cage leads us through the living room and toward the back of the house. We end up in a sunroom, where it’s less crowded and quieter.
“Better?” Cage asks, regarding me.
“Much.” I nod my head.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” Murphy says before disappearing back into the house.
We sit down on what looks like patio furniture in the corner of the room, and I wring my hands together in my lap as I peer around the small room.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He repeats his earlier question from in the truck. I don’t miss his need to ensure I’m okay, which means a lot to me.
“Yes, I’ll be fine. Just not used to all of this.”
“Here, this will help calm your nerves.” Murphy comes up to my side and hands me a plastic cup. Red liquid sloshes up the sides, and I wonder what this concoction is.
“What’s this?” I ask, taking the cup from him. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale. It’s got a fruity scent, but I can definitely smell the alcohol in there as well.
&
nbsp; “Fruit punch and vodka. I didn’t put a lot of booze in there. I wasn’t sure how much you’ve drunk before; I didn’t want to put you on your ass with one drink. I got you, Nerd.” He grins like we’re best friends. “Oh, and don’t take a drink from anyone besides Cage and me, okay?”
“Sure, why?”
“Just don’t.” He takes a seat and hands Cage a bottle of beer. They remove the tops and take long drinks. Deciding to do the same, I bring the cup to my lips and take a gulp of the bright red liquid. There is a tiny burn as the mixture slides down my throat, and my eyes water a fraction, but I ignore it and continue drinking.
“Good?” Murphy asks, perched beside Cage.
“Yes, surprisingly. I don’t often drink, maybe a glass of wine here and there, but this is pretty good.”
“Of course, it is. I made it,” he arrogantly boasts, and I shake my head and roll my eyes.
Cage chuckles. “Dude, she’s immune to our arrogance.”
“You mean your arrogance. She just met me,” Murphy flirts aimlessly.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” I tell him.
“See,” Cage says, tipping his beer at Murphy.
They break out into conversation a moment later, discussing something football-related, and I drown them out. Drinking more of the fruity beverage, I pull out my phone and text Mia.
Me: I did it. I went to a party with football guy.
Almost instantly, she replies back.
Mia: Oh my god. I need all the details tomorrow. Are you going to let him kiss you? What are you drinking? You better be safe. I don’t want to have to come there and kill someone.
Me: *rolling eyes emoji* Next thing you’re going to be asking me is if I’m using protection.
Bubbles pop up on the screen, so I know she’s writing back. Going to take another drink, I realize I’m out of the red fruity liquid. Frowning, I peer into the cup.
Mia: I swear to God if you get pregnant, I will come there and rip Mr. Football god’s balls off his body. No babies!!!
I snort with laughter at the thought of Mia trying to fight with Cage and type back my reply.
Me: Have to have sex to make babies.
“What are you laughing about over there?” Cage questions, looking down at the lit-up screen in my lap. I grab the device and hold it to my chest, not wanting him to see what we’re talking about.
“Nothing. Just messaging Mia.” I can feel the burn in my cheeks. The little bit of alcohol I consumed must already be affecting me.
“Want another drink?” Murphy interjects, and I nod, shoving my plastic cup at him.
“Yes, please.” I smile.
“Oh fuck, don’t say it like that, Nerd. You’ll make my cock hard,” Murphy teases as he walks away. I don’t miss the murderous glint that flickers in Cage’s eyes at the words. He’s looking at his friend like he’s ready to strangle him.
My phone dings, and I unlock it and look down at the screen.
Mia: Same. My sex life is non-existent. Can’t bang someone when your bodyguard is constantly watching you. I mean, I guess I could if I was into that kind of thing.
Me: *frowny face* Maybe bang him instead?
I laugh at my own response. When did I become so funny? Seconds tick by, and then a message appears on the screen.
Mia: Now, that’s an idea. *winky face* I’m proud of you, Blair. Tell me everything tomorrow.
Me: Of course, as if I couldn’t.
I hit send and click the button on my phone’s side just as Murphy returns with a drink. He hands it to me and gives Cage another beer. I can feel the tension radiating off of Cage at his friend’s poke at fun. I drink my drink, all but chugging the beverage down. Why does he care if Murphy flirts with me? He said he was fine with being friends. I mean, it’s a little hard to be just friends with someone you kissed, but it was a bet, a little fun, nothing more.
And yet the way Cage is looking at Murphy, toes the line of jealousy.
“Hey guys,” a voice carries across the space. Looking up, I find Evan and another guy I don’t know walking toward us. Evan’s eyes find mine immediately, giving me a look that all but says, what the hell are you doing here?
I don’t know, Evan. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here.
They pull two chairs up, and I scoot mine closer to Cage to make space at the table.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Blair. I thought you hated this idiot.” He lifts his chin toward Cage.
I shrug. “The idiot kind of grew on me.”
“Hey, said idiot is sitting right here,” Cage interrupts.
I can’t help but giggle, a tiny snort escapes me, and the rest of the table starts laughing. I can feel the tension ease from my body. All the worries I had about tonight disappear because, for the first time in a long time, I feel accepted. I feel like they are laughing with me and not at me. Just then, my bladder starts to scream in protest.
“I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” I announce, shoving my phone into my pocket.
Cage jumps up from his seat a little more eagerly than expected. “I’ll show you where it is.” Out the corner of my eye, I see Murphy, who has a wicked grin on his face. He looks like he knows a secret that no one else does, and he’s bursting at the seams to spill the beans.
Grabbing me by the hand, Cage tugs me behind him. I look down at our joined hands. My skin burns where it touches his, his huge hand engulfs mine and the strings around my heart tug tighter. This feels perfect, which is scary as hell. Being with Cage shouldn’t feel perfect, it should feel… I don’t know what it should feel like but definitely not this. I try to bury the feelings rising up inside of me as I let him guide me to the bathroom.
Leading me through the house again, all eyes are on us, but now I care a little less about the questioning gazes, probably thanks to the alcohol.
We turn down a hallway, and Cage stops at a door that’s closed.
“Maybe knock just in case. You never know what or who someone is doing inside.”
A soft giggle passes my lips, and I wonder for half a second if Cage has ever had sex in a bathroom. At a party. Of course, he has, he’s Cage Wilder.
The thought makes me nauseated. I don’t want to think about Cage with anyone else, much less doing someone else.
Just as I lift a hand to knock on the door, it’s pulled open, and someone comes stumbling out, nearly running me over. Thankfully, Cage pulls me to the side at the last second, stopping me from being steamrolled into the carpet.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” he growls at the unknown guy as he stumbles away.
“It’s fine, he’s just drunk.” I try to calm him down. I don’t want to break up a fistfight right now. “I’ll be right back,” I say and disappear into the bathroom. I do my business quickly.
As I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are a hue of pink, and my bright blue eyes are glassy. I’m definitely tipsy, and I won’t lie, I enjoy it very much. I feel lighter, calmer, and less worried about what everyone is saying or better yet not saying.
I’m well aware that the alcohol is not the only reason. Cage and Murphy are the other. They make it easy to have fun, to enjoy myself without being stressed out about getting hit on, or how I’m going to get home. I know Cage will take care of me. I trust him.
That realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I trust Cage.
A knock at the door interrupts my thought process. I open the door, expecting Cage to be on the other side. Instead, I find a girl in a red mini dress, squeezing her legs together like she is about to pee herself.
“Please, get out of the way,” she squeals, and I dart to the side.
As I step into the hallway, I realize Cage isn’t here at all. I look down both sides of the hall, but he’s nowhere to be found. That’s when I hear it. It’s a strange sound. Even with the music thumping, I can hear it. It sounds almost like... a moan.
Curious, I follow the sound. It leads me to a clos
ed door. Well, a door that’s cracked open. Peeking inside, I see a set of stairs that go down. A basement?
Why is there moaning in the basement?
Like someone pulling on an invisible string tethered to my chest, my feet move forward. Brimming with curiosity, I can’t help but want to go down the stairs, but my foot only touches the first step before I’m pulled backward, and my body is shoved against the nearest wall.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Cage’s gruff voice filters into my ears while his large frame pins me to the wall.
I’m his prey, trapped in his big strong arms.
“I-I don’t know… I heard something.” I look up at him, his face only inches from mine. I’m tempted to lean forward and sniff him but resist the urge. That would be weird.
“They call that basement the sex cave. A little virgin like you is not ready for that.”
“Maybe I am,” I cockily reply.
“Is that right, little girl?” Cage taunts, his tone so low it hardly sounds like his voice anymore. He moves his body, pushing his groin against me, letting me feel his growing erection.
My lips part with a sharp intake of breath, and Cage uses that moment to kiss me. His lips press against mine with bruising force as his tongue slips inside my mouth.
Without thought, I grab the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer as I moan into his mouth. Cage groans in response, the sounds vibrating through me and igniting something deep inside of my gut.
When I feel his hand running over my hip and down to the hem of my dress, that feeling only intensifies. I don’t even realize I’m rubbing my body against his like a cat in heat until he breaks the kiss and releases a chuckle.
If I was sober, I would definitely be embarrassed, but I’m too far gone to care. All I want is friction and relief from the throbbing ache between my thighs. As if he can read my mind, his hand disappears under my dress, trailing against my thigh before finding its way to my panty covered sex. Clinging to him like my life depends on it, I part my legs without even realizing it.
Cage is all around me, everywhere, shielding me from the world. I feel safe in his arms, safe in his presence, and for the first time ever, I’m free. I’m not worried about a man making me feel less than him. I’m living.