Up For Debate (Love and Desire Book 1)

by Devin Sawyer

  “Should we stumble out this bar, we’ll pray the night is worth the scar.” The guys all tap their drinks on the bar, and I mimic their movement before shooting back the drink.

  Sweet mother of Jesus, that’s disgusting and burns like wildfire.

  “Next one, next one,” Lawson says, picking up his own second shot of tequila as well as mine, handing it over to me. I’m still making the sour tequila face but he’s already pushing the next one up to my lips. I’m trying to refuse.

  “I can’t. I won’t,” I tell him, trying to refuse the next god-awful shot. But before I can refuse further, he is tipping it back, and it’s all I can do to tip my head with it so it doesn’t run all over me. I continue to make the sour face at the taste of the bitter shot, and I reach for my cherry vodka and take a swig of the sweet concoction hoping to mask the taste.

  “Wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Lawson says, reaching out and using his thumb, he gently wipes some dripping tequila from my chin. It feels a more intimate interaction than most strangers would commit, but I chalk it up to the liquor now burning through our systems.

  “I hope that’s not what you say to your women,” I snidely remark.

  He leans down close and whispers in my ear, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He stands up straight again and looks me in the eyes. “Now, really… it wasn’t that bad, right?”

  “I wouldn’t call that enjoyable, either. Why did we have to do that?” He leans in closer to speak to me, still raising his voice to be heard over the loud music.

  “It takes a while to get drinks at the bar. Thought this might speed up our buzz. Plus, it’s our birthday,” he says as if that’s reason enough.

  It dawns on me that I don’t know how old he is. I know he’s old enough to already have graduated with his undergraduate, which makes him older than me.

  “What year is it for you?” I ask.

  He bunches his eyebrows together. “2019. What year is it for you?” he asks back, seriously concerned.

  I laugh at this and snort, almost spewing my drink from my mouth. He places a hand on my back, patting it as I cough out my drink that I just practically inhaled into my lungs.

  “No, I mean, like what birthday are you celebrating?”

  “Ohhh.” Recognition dawns on him. “This is twenty-four for me.”

  “Have you always drank gin and tonics?” I ask, eyeing his drink.

  “This is a weird game of twenty questions. Yes, I have pretty much always drank gin and tonics.” One of his brows lifts at me, wondering where I’m going with this.

  “I read an article once that said gin and tonic drinkers were more likely to be psychopaths.”

  He tries to hold a smile back as if he’s entertained by my comment.

  “Well, Farah, do you think I’m a psychopath?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” I let him know.

  “Fair enough. Let me know when you decide, will ya? It would be so much easier to drop out of law school and make stupid decisions if I could blame it on being a psychopath.”

  “What? You don’t want to be in law school?” He ponders on this.

  “Depends on the day. Some days I love it, other days I get sick of the expectations. Dad was a senator. They expect the same from me. For me to rise to some level of political power.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I tell him. “I googled you…. Or more your family,” I correct myself. I couldn’t help but look him up yesterday after he told me he was a Calhoun. His father was well liked as a senator, but I wasn’t too fond of his immigration policies. Of course, everyone in the south was a little wishy-washy on their views. He, again, has an amused look on his face.

  “What about you? Where do you come from? Any family obligations you are here to fill?” I tell him, no, and provide him with the same background I had given Finn earlier, our move from Turkey, my private school upbringing. My dad works for the government but hardly in a capacity that he expects me to fill.

  “My younger brother, Reece, he is in culinary school. CULINARY SCHOOL!” he exclaims like he can’t believe it himself. “Never in a million years would I have been allowed to go to culinary school. Not that I want to, but the point is that as the oldest Calhoun, I’m held to a different standard.”

  “That sucks,” I offer, not knowing what else to say.

  He shrugs it off. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He yells down at the bartender to bring us another shot. I shoot another exasperated look at him. I can already feel the tingle of a buzz warming my entire body and at this rate, I won’t be able to keep up.

  We down another just as Grant approaches our twosome. We seem to have lost Finn somewhere in the bar.

  “Alright Farah, Let’s dance,” Grant announces. I shake my head vehemently at him.

  “Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t dance. You’ve got that exotic look to you like it’s all you ever want to do.”

  I think men assume anyone with dark hair and olive skin is supposed to resemble the little salsa dancing lady emoji.

  “Oh no, I love to dance, just alone, and not in front of any people.”

  “Well that kind of defeats the purpose of it, doesn’t it darlin’?” He drags me out to the floor and spins me before pulling me into his body.

  Grant looks like your typical collegiate scholar. Pressed jeans, Lacoste polo. He’s your stereotypical college boy. So naturally I’m surprised when he actually appears to have some decent rhythm on the dance floor. I guess the “white boys can’t dance” stereotype is a myth… maybe that’s not the saying at all. Maybe I’m confusing it with “white men can’t jump.” Either way, I should know better than to believe any of those stereotypes. I was a walking stereotype.

  I look closely around us to see who all is watching. Luckily, it’s only Lawson I see staring in our direction and sipping his psychopathic cocktail. I relax then, feeling my anxiety slip away some. I dance into Grant and we chat a little.

  “He told us not to hit on you,” Grant hollers at me on the dance floor.

  “What?” I yell back at him. I heard him. I just don’t understand it.

  “Lawson.” He ticks his head over to where he is watching us. “Said you were off limits. What’s that about?” Grant questions me but has a look on his face that tells me he thinks he knows the answer already.

  “I don’t know. I literally just met him at orientation.” I’m not sure what else to say, but thankfully Grant leaves it at that.

  These guys aren’t so bad after all, and somewhere in my sloshy feeling brain I am thankful I came out with them. Just as Grant and I were finding our rhythm together, Lawson rushed up to us on the floor.

  “Hey, let me steal Farah for a bit. Veronica’s over there and she was heading my way.”

  “Yeah, no problem, man,” Grant replies and twirls me one last time into Lawson.

  I’m not sure what kind of exchange just happened or who Veronica is but it’s clear that Lawson is avoiding her, and I’m annoyed at being used as a pawn in the meantime.

  “Out with it. Who’s Veronica?”

  “An ex.” He stares down into my eyes as we sway. He doesn’t have quite the same rhythm that Grant did, yet somehow his movements feel more sensual against me.

  “I thought you had to actually date to have exes? I’ve only ever seen you turn the women around you into melting goop with all your flirty banter and cocky smile.”

  “Melting goop, huh? I’ll keep that in mind. You think you’ve got me pinned, don’t you?” he challenges.

  “If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck. It’s probably a duck.”

  “Yes, well, I dated Veronica. And that’s exactly why I don’t date anymore.”

  “Whoo. She was that bad, huh? What? Are you like, ruined for all other women now?”

  “Hardly,” is all he replies with a glint of something in his eyes.

  “Yes, well I don’t really like being used in this little game of jealousy.” I move to
pull away and he pulls me back in as effortlessly as if he had planned it like it was one of his dance moves.

  “This is not a game for me. I invited you out because no one deserves to celebrate their twenty-first alone, but perhaps I am enjoying your company. And you’re not so bad to look at, especially in that dress. If it helps me avoid an ex in the process, then so be it.”

  I feel slightly like an ass because it was very kind of him to take me under his wing my first week here.

  “Thank you,” I mumble. “For bringing me out. I am having fun, and I like your friends.”

  “What? Those losers?” He gestures his head over toward the bar where Grant and Finn are both standing now. I nod my head and grin up at him. “Yeah, they’re okay I guess.”

  “So Veronica. Why are you avoiding her?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with her. Another downside to the Calhoun name. Some people want to be your friend just to say they are. Veronica wanted to date me just to say she was. Also, Finn videotaped her coming on to him one night at a party. We were already on our way out and that was just the last strike. She still calls or talks to me whenever she can. Her grandpa was a congressman and her family and mine go way back. It’s hard not to run into her.”

  I nod, just listening to him. I take in how much pressure he already feels from everyone around him and how hard it must be for him to find true friends. He pulls me in a little closer to him for the last part of the song, and I don’t hate it. I’ve never been this close to anyone I wasn’t dating, but it still feels comfortable.

  When the song ends, he spins me and pulls me back into his body. He leans in toward me and for half a second I think he might kiss me. His face so close to mine, I can hear his heavy breathing and smell the light sweat on him. He leans his forehead down to mine.

  “Thanks for coming out tonight. Let’s go get another drink.”

  I nod, pulling back, needing space to clear my head. His closeness makes me feel sensual, like at any moment he could make a move on me and I don’t know how I feel about that yet. He’s gorgeous, if that’s all I’m taking into consideration I would jump him in a heartbeat, but Lawson is clearly a little dangerous to women and I am well aware that I should protect myself from being destroyed by him. I’ll welcome a friendship, but that’s all I’m willing to offer.

  We join the other guys and chat amongst ourselves. I spend a lot of the night laughing at their constant banter and bickering. It’s amusing to watch. Finn always the level-headed, yet dramatic one, seems in constant battle with the other two. Grant is the more fun-loving, and wild. And of course Lawson, he’s like the face of a brand. The ambassador, the extrovert, constantly schmoozing with everyone, bringing a smile to their face, telling them exactly what they want to hear. At one point in the night, Lawson places his hand on my lower back. The guys clearly notice, and I feel claimed. I’m not sure whether to be annoyed by it or not. It’s not as if I was trying to pick up anyone else in the bar but it still irks me a tiny bit. I like Lawson, as a friend, he’s been kind, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him when it comes to dating him. Not that a hand on the back is a signal he wants to date. Clearly, he was upfront just earlier about not being interested in dating.

  I finally have to call off the shots and refuse anymore. I’m getting dizzy and the guys finally concede as well.

  “I’m calling us an Uber. We can drop you off first. Let’s head outside and get some air.”

  I’m thankful for this. The club is hot and muggy and even the still warm summer air has a slight breeze that makes me feel a tinge cooler. Our Uber arrives, and it’s larger than the sports car Lawson drove us in and I’m thankful for the added space as my head is still spinning a bit. The driver takes me to the dorms and I look for my key in my purse.

  “I’ll walk you up. Be right back, guys,” Lawson offers and before I can tell him I’m okay to go on my own, he’s out of the van too. He rides the elevator up to the third floor with me and I stop in front of my door.

  “Thanks. I had a lot of fun tonight.” My voice is hoarse from yelling all night and he laughs about that.

  “Sure thing. I had fun too.” He lifts his hand and strokes my arm down my side. He leans in toward me and I attempt to not misread the situation again, but I’m pretty sure he’s leaning in to kiss me. I put a hand up to his chest to stop him.

  “Being the new girl is rough. I don’t know many people yet. I’m glad you invited me out for our birthdays. I need all the friends I can get,” I joke, but hope he gets the message.

  He takes my hand on his chest and entwines his own fingers with mine, holding my hand and then leans in again and gently places his lips on my own. He brings his other hand up to my neck and cradles me into the kiss, pressing firmly into me. My heart races. I’m torn with enjoying the moment and wanting to stop him, to draw up more clear boundaries. He pulls away, not pushing any further than a chaste kiss.

  “Yeah, friends,” he says and huffs out a small laugh. “Happy Birthday, Farah.” His voice is soft and sexy and practically whispering into my ear.

  He turns to leave.

  “Happy Birthday, Lawson.”

  CHAPTER 4 – PRESENT

  Being back in the Calhoun home was awkward, to say the least. The second I stepped through the threshold, I knew how strongly I didn’t want to be there. With Reece’s hand at my back, we powered through to the back porch. I felt his hand graze the inside of my arm and land at my hand, he held it firmly, squeezing once, to alert me that he was here for me.

  “Mom. Pop. Reece and Farah are here,” Lawson announces our presence.

  “Oh, my baby boy.” Mrs. Calhoun nearly jumps from her seat and rushes toward Reece when she spots him. He never releases my hand and greets her with a one-armed hug as best as he can. His dad also joins, and he reaches out to shake Reece’s available hand. “Welcome home, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I watch Reece’s interactions with his parents. I hadn’t paid too much attention to it all those years ago, and I’m not sure if I’m just suddenly interested or if I am merely avoiding further eye contact with Lawson.

  “Farah.” He says my name as if it’s more of a statement. “Welcome back, as well.”

  “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun.”

  “Please, call us William and Emily.”

  I only nod politely at this. I hate this game. Are we just pretending the past doesn’t exist? That’s what it feels like and it feels phony and fake.

  Emily speaks up. “We will be having dinner on the patio tonight, if that’s alright with everyone. Reece, show Farah to her room, please. Dinner will be out in twenty minutes.” Again a statement, not a request. Reece picks up my bag along with his and I follow him back inside.

  He leads me up the stairs and down a hall I vaguely remember from my few visits here. I pass a familiar door on the right, a large bathroom, and then Reece enters the next room over. He sets my bag on the bed.

  “I’m just two more doors down. At the end of the hall. Unpack and I’ll come get you before we go down for dinner.” He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me tight against him. He has a way of making me feel beautiful when he does this. I try to think of ways to make him stay in my room, to convince him that sleeping separately is overrated. He nuzzles into my neck. “Thank you for coming,” he whispers.

  “You’re welcome,” I whisper back, wanting this to work, wanting everything to run smoothly for him.

  He leans in and his lips tenderly touch my own, he sucks on my bottom lip and I taste his tongue in my mouth. His hands graze over my sides. I feel heated, warmth rushes throughout my body. I run my own hands over his solid chest, and I feel him pull away before I’m ready to let go.

  “Maybe we can finish that later.” He winks at me and adjusts himself in his pants. I giggle at him for that. I love how unembarrassed he is to show me what I do to him. I’d like to finish what we started right now, but I know there isn’t time. I choose to just wink at him and let h
is mind wander. He pulls away from me, and he mocks like it’s causing him true pain to leave me.

  When Reece has finally left the room, I unpack my items for the week. Mostly casual clothes but a handful of modest knee-length dresses and heels for the events we will be expected to attend. I didn’t have a formal dress and I’ll need one for the gala. I’ll have to do some shopping while I’m here before next Saturday.

  Before I’m finished, Reece has returned to escort me to our first dreaded meal. He walks over to me, and wraps his arms around my waist, lifting me up off the ground. I intuitively wrap my legs around him. I suddenly feel like dinner can wait.

  “Mmmm. Why must you torture me?” he growls into me.

  “Maybe if you carry me down like this, we will be evicted and have to stay in a hotel,” I offer.

  “If you think just because we are staying at my parents that I will be holding out on you for a week, you are mistaken.” I smile at this. It feels good to feel so wanted by him when I feel anything but that from the others in the house.

  We eventually head down to dinner when I can’t delay any longer. The food is being served and we get ugly looks from Emily for arriving late. Reece talks for most of the dinner and I’m grateful for that. He catches his parents up on his current job as one of the lead chefs in his restaurant. He and his friend from culinary school, Lorenzo, are in cahoots to open their own restaurant. Lorenzo wants to open in New Jersey and is always asking us to move out there. That coastline would be slightly closer to my parents as well and we’ve discussed it, but we also love our secrecy and the private lives we have in Portland. I support his dream, it’s a beautiful one, but making it happen outside of his current job will leave him with little spare time. It’s still very early and nothing concrete has been discussed.

  Despite Reece having my rapt attention so that I don’t have to share it with any other members at the table I feel Lawson’s glances my way. Sometimes he doesn’t even bother to mask it. His hidden anger rings clear as day. We didn’t tell him I would be joining them. I wanted to. I asked Reece to tell him over and over, but Reece just felt it would be better received if they talked about it after. Lawson knows we are together now. We told him when things finally became serious between us. By serious, I mean we had been together for a year and were moving in together. But he knew, he knew that I was dating his brother. Since then I hadn’t been home with Reece when he’d gone, and his family didn’t come to visit us either. My parents visited once a year, and I tried to see them in Georgia, the same.