Jersey Girl (Sticks & Hearts #1)

by Rhonda James

  Six months ago I was in a different place. Mentally and physically. While I had been dating Justin back then, he'd never been able to stir up the kind of emotions I feel every time I'm around Brantley. I've grown to depend on him. It's hard not to when he loves coming to my rescue. A few nights ago, I playfully called him my Superman, but a part of me had been serious. There's something about knowing he's out there, watching out for me, and ready to stop locomotives at a moment's notice. Well, that kind of attention does something to your heart. Softens it just a little. Molds it into something better. Something stronger.

  In twelve short weeks he's managed to turn my heart into a puddle of goo. I often wonder if we would've reached this level if I hadn't told him who I was that first morning? Probably not. Most likely I would have become just another girl he hooked up with and never contacted again. Twelve weeks ago I could have killed Scotty for ruining that opportunity. Today I realize it had worked in my favor after all. What we have feels special, and I want to tell him so, so badly. But I'm terrified of scaring him off. I know he cares for me. And I'm certain he's attracted to me. He's been pretty obvious in the way he touches me or holds my hand. A shiver courses through my body when I think of his lips on my mine.

  I never asked him to come for me today. I didn't want him to feel obligated. I'd rather he be here because he wants to, not because he feels he has to. Sitting backstage by myself leaves me wishing I'd taken the chance and invited him. It would be nice to know someone I loved was out there cheering for me.

  There's a party later tonight at one of the frat houses. I'd heard about it last week and invited B to join me but he'd declined. I don't think it was because he didn't want to be with me. I think it had more to do with the fact he isn't crazy about the fraternity hosting the party. Then, the other day after class Dan Harwood caught me off guard by inviting me to attend the party as his date. I like Dan, he's nice enough, but to call what we're doing tonight a date would be quite a stretch. I agreed to go with him only on the condition he keep his hands to himself.

  I agreed to go, but now I don't want to be there without B.

  "I think I'm going to be sick," I jump up and quickly make my way down the hall to the restroom, nearly knocking over a young girl in my haste. I've seen her before in the music department. Dana, I think that's her name. Thankfully, the room is empty when I push open the door. I pause to lock it just before leaning over the porcelain bowl. The room feels like it's spinning, and the yogurt and granola I had this morning threaten to come back up.

  I remain in one position, afraid to move for fear I'll vomit or pass out. Sweat pools under my arms, and I begin doubting the claims made by my deodorant manufacturer. When the sweat trickles down my back, I look at the sparkling tile floor and seriously consider lying flat on my back. It looks cool and inviting.

  I spent most of the day yesterday locked in a practice room at the music school working on my arrangement. During that time, I can't recall breaking for water or food. I know I drank water at some point, but outside of the yogurt this morning I haven't eaten a meal since Thursday evening with Brantley.

  I'm still flattered he dropped everything he was doing so I wouldn't be alone. He knew I'd been looking forward to my evening with Scott, and when he'd heard I'd been let down he just showed up and made everything right again. I know it's probably unfair to always expect him to be in superhero mode, but I must admit he'd look pretty hot in a pair of Superman's tights.

  The wave of nausea passes so I close the lid on the toilet and take a seat. This isn't the first time I've played in front of an audience, but tonight I'm nervous as hell. I keep going over the opening chords in my head. I've played them so many times I know them backwards and forwards. There's no reason for me to be bent over this toilet, but for some reason my hands won't stop shaking.

  I replay the arrangement over in my head, moving my fingers as if a grand piano were here in this tiny stall. Everything feels right. Everything is in sequence. I've got this. I know I do.

  I can do this.

  Then I think about Brantley, and I want to see him and tell him how I feel about him, then my insides tumble once again. Suddenly, I feel claustrophobic and my fingers become useless appendages as they struggle to open the sliding lock trapping me the stall. Then I begin to panic. If I can't make my fingers work to open a friggin' door, how on earth will I play a four-minute arrangement? It takes a few moments to finally pry it open, and by the time I'm finally out in the hall, I'm bent in half and fighting for a full breath of air. Eventually, my breathing evens out and when I stand, I walk straight into the arms of my hero.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  BRANTLEY

  I take a seat in a row toward the middle of the auditorium. Shifting the bouquet of roses to the crook of my arm. I peruse the program handed to me upon entering. I note that Cassie's piece isn't until the middle of the recital so I get an idea to go backstage and wish her luck. Somehow I managed to avoid telling her I'd be here tonight. The time we spent together Thursday night had been amazing, in so many ways. I love spending time with her and being her friend. But there's a part of me deep down that wonders what more with her would look like. I'm fairly certain it would supersede all my expectations, but having something that good would only mean I have something wonderful to lose. I know I don't want to go through that kind of pain again. It's not worth it. Besides, I would be too afraid of messing up what we have. What we're doing now seems to work. We hang out, we flirt, we support one another. It's as if I have everything I've ever wanted with a woman; the only thing missing is sex. And dammit, I want to have sex with her. I think about it all the time, but I have to be strong for both of us. I can see in her eyes that she wants me too, though I don't think she'll ever admit it.

  The door to the performance area is locked, but I luck out when one of the girls working backstage recognizes me and lets me through. I search the rooms for any sign of Cassie, but I come up empty. The same girl who let me in finds me wandering aimlessly and offers to help.

  "Are you looking for someone?" she asks, eyeing the large bouquet of pink roses.

  "Um, yeah." I clear my throat and smile an awkward smile. "Cassie Rivers."

  "I think I just saw her down by the women's bathroom. She looked pretty nervous. I'm sure those roses will cheer her up."

  "Thanks, uh, Dana?" I take a stab at her name and hope I get it right.

  "Yeah, that's right. You're welcome, Brantley." She giggles softly before turning on her heel and continuing down the darkened hall.

  I find her bent over outside the women's bathroom and make my way down the hall as fast as I can. She stands, and without looking, walks straight into my arms. When she takes a step back, her face is pale, and I notice her hands are shaking.

  "B? What on earth are you doing here?" She checks over her shoulder as if expecting to find someone else I would be looking for.

  "I came for you, baby. You know, for a smart girl you sure are dense sometimes." I bend to place a kiss on her forehead and find it's damp. "Hey, are you alright? You're not going to pass out or anything like that?" I take her hand and pull her back inside the bathroom. "Sit." I order, motioning to the covered garbage can. I wet a few paper towels and press them to her forehead.

  "What are you doing?" she calmly questions.

  "You're clammy, and you looked like you were going to faint. Have you had any water today?"

  "Umm, I honestly don't remember." Her blue eyes go round with panic. "Holy shit, B. I don't know if I can do this. I'm shaking like a leaf."

  "We need to get you a bottle of water. You're probably dehydrated. You've got a crowd to wow, and I'm not about to let you fall apart on my watch." With that said I bend and scoop her up in my arms. She's light as a feather, and her thin arms lock around my neck as I carry her down the hall, following her directions to a room where she'll be more comfortable. As we step through the door I look around and see a group of anxious faces. These must be the other musicians per
forming tonight. Two guys stand and make room for me to place her on the sofa. I ask one of them to run and grab me a bottle of water and within a minute he returns with not one but two. I thank him and turn back to her. I crouch beside her and lift the bottle to her lips.

  "I can drink a bottle of water. I don't need you to do it for me." She gently chastises, taking the bottle from my grasp. After downing half of it, she comes up for air. "The flowers are gorgeous, thank you. So, tell me, why are you really here? Did Scotty ask you to come? And please don't lie to me."

  I sigh, knowing she'll see right through me if I try to tell anything but the honest truth. "Yes, he asked me yesterday, but I would've come anyway."

  "Why?" she whispers.

  "I told you, Cassie. I'll always be there for you. Besides, I love hearing you play. Now, finish your water and go out there and knock these people on their uptight asses."

  "I'll do my best." She cracks a smile, and I thread our fingers together. They fit perfectly. She stares at our joined hands, while I stare at her. She's breathtakingly beautiful. "You better get going and find a seat, the recital's about to start." I only make it five feet before her voice pulls me back. "Hey, Superman, thanks for saving me again."

  I lean down and kiss the tip of her pert nose. "It's my pleasure, Dimples."

  The smile she offers is one I'll store in my memory for years to come, maybe forever, because as soon as it leaves her lips it comes straight for me and pierces my tattered heart. At this moment I have no doubt I'm falling for this girl, and that knowledge paralyzes me with fear.

  I bypass the seats and take up residence near one of the exits. I watch in awe as she walks out and takes her place at the piano. The way her fingers move over the keys and knowing how committed she is to this song, tt hits me. Hard. If it weren't for the wall holding me up, I'd surely have fallen to my knees, just as I feel myself falling for her.

  When her piece is over and the crowd comes alive with applause, I take that opportunity to sneak out and head home. I was going to surprise her by taking her out to dinner, but I don't think I'm able to face her right now. Everything feels like it's coming at me so fast, and I spend most of the night locked in my room, going over every day we've spent together. Every word we've ever spoken. I analyze it all. I come to the realization I've felt this way about her from the start. She'd wanted me then, and I'd been the one to throw those stupid rules in her face.

  Now, I'm the one about to break them all.

  ***

  I considered not coming to this party. They all end the same, and I usually end up back at my apartment drunk and asking myself why the hell I'd gone in the first place. Cassie asked me last week if I was planning on going, and I'd told her no, but I changed my mind after hearing she agreed to go as Dan Harwood's date. Dan Fucking Harwood. For the life of me I can't understand why she even bothered saying yes. Lately, he's been showing up wherever she is, and it's pissing me off. He tries talking to her before class, then waits by her chair afterwards to walk her out. She's always polite, but in the end she walks out with me, and I always make a point of throwing my arm around her shoulder as I walk her to her dorm. I've begun to wonder if maybe she does like him and I've just been too blind to notice.

  When I enter the frat house the first person who latches onto me is Natasha. There was a time when I would have welcomed her attention. But after that night outside the dorms, Cassie's the only girl I've had on my mind.

  I have every intention of going further inside the house with hopes of finding her, but I don't make it far before someone stops me to talk about last week's game-winning play. Before I know it, fifteen more minutes have passed, and I excuse myself from that conversation only to find myself locked in another not more than a minute later. This is precisely why I avoid these parties. I love that people enjoy watching me play, but secretly despise all the attention once I'm off the ice. Right now, I'd like nothing more than to be home, watching SOA with Cassie. If we were there, we'd be lying on my bed. She'd be on her stomach with her head at the foot of the bed, while I would lean against the headboard and give her a foot massage. She would be eating popcorn, going on and on about the guy who plays Jax. While I'd fantasize about riding a Harley down the California coastline with the wind at my back and her arms wrapped around my waist.

  I find myself thinking about the way she smells. I think about how hot it would be to see her hand holding my cock. Or how good it would feel to bury myself inside her. I know it's wrong, and against everything I swore to uphold, but I think about her all the fucking time, and it's confusing the hell out of me.

  We move deeper into the house, and I finally manage to lose Natasha to a group gathered around the keg. Music thumps loudly from the next room, and I hear guys chanting more and take it off. Naturally, I'm intrigued, so I push my way through the crowd, blocking the doorway to the conference room. A group of guys have gathered around a large table that's been turned into a makeshift bar for the party. Beyoncé blasts through the speakers and three girls are using the table for their own version of Coyote Ugly. They're dancing seductively, every move cheered on by their personal cheering section. I push my way through to get a better view, and what I see stops me dead in my tracks.

  Cassie is up there, swaying her hips and touching herself in a seductive manner. She looks sexy as hell, and perhaps a bit drunk. Her arms rest behind her head, holding her hair away from her neck, and as she dances, her eyes are closed. It's clear half the room is lusting over her. Raw sensuality and confidence oozes from every pore with each sway of her hips. She rocks forward, spinning on her heel, then stumbles when one of the guys grabs her by the ankle. I turn and find Dan standing next to me. His eyes are glued to Cassie's chest and his mouth hangs open, making him look like a perv.

  My anger quickly builds, and I tear into his ass. "Dude, what the fuck are you doing? She shouldn't be up there. These guys will be all over her in a second. I'm putting an end to it."

  "Why the hell would you do that? I'm horny as fuck and she's just the girl to take care of me." His words come out slurred, and any idiot can see the guy is clearly wasted, but that's no excuse for what he said. There's no way in hell this guy, or anyone else for that matter, will get the chance to be with her. My fist connects with his nose, and he hits the ground like a sack of potatoes.

  Stepping over him, I plow forward, shoving back a few bodies as I go. A few guys start to mouth off, but when they see who I am, they back the fuck up. No one bothers paying attention to their buddy on the floor. The guys on the football team are pretty big, but everyone knows a hockey player will never back down from a fight, even if he is outnumbered. Several guys take a step back and let me through. Without a word, I reach up, scoop her off the table, and cradle her my arms.

  "Hey, B. You came to my rescue," she snuggles against the crook of my neck as I carry her up the stairs to John's room. Thankfully, the room is empty. I reach one arm behind me and lock the door so no one will barge in on us. "I love being in your arms. I feel safe when I'm with you," she whispers in my ear.

  "You are safe. I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever," I reply immediately. Without a doubt, I know I would do anything to protect her.

  "See," she places her lips on my neck and the heat from her kiss sears my skin. "I knew you liked me." She pinches her thumb and forefinger together before releasing them to allow a fraction of space between the parted digits. "Maybe just a teeny tiny bit."

  I shake my head but don't verbally deny it. "Just how much have you had to drink tonight?" I lean back and get a good look at her eyes. Now that I'm up close I can see her eyes are crystal clear, not glassy at all.

  It's only when I'm sure she's okay that I release her legs and set her back down. Looking her over, I take in the vision before me. She's wearing a pair of skinny jeans with a black camisole and cropped jean jacket. I look at her feet and find her signature Chucks, only tonight they're deep purple. The left side of her mouth quirks into a smile, showing off the dimple in
her left cheek.

  "One beer and a shot. I'm not drunk, B. We've both been dancing around this subject for weeks. I'm just finally brave enough to tell you how I feel." Her tongue peeks out and glides slowly over her bottom lip. My eyes track the movement hungrily as her fingers reach forward and delicately trace the hard planes of my chest. "Thank you for rescuing me from those guys down there."

  "Yeah, well, someone had to. Besides, your brother would have killed me if I hadn't stepped in. There's no telling what those assholes might have done if you'd stayed up there much longer."

  She takes another step, and I put my hands behind my back to keep myself from pulling her against me. But I want to.

  "Uh huh," she speaks softly, licking her lips once more as she moves closer, until there's no more space between us. Her hand slides up my body until her fingers thread through my hair. "I'm not buying it. You didn't pull me off that table for Scotty's sake. You did it for your own benefit, and you know it."

  My breathing comes to a halt, and I know I should tell her to stop, but it feels too damn good. I've missed having a woman touch me this way. The way she looks at me with those big, blue eyes that scream take me. And believe me, I want to so fucking badly.

  "Cassie," I hiss as she caresses me with the palm of her hand. I'm already hard. Christ, I've been hard since I saw her on that table.

  She covers my mouth with her fingers and stands on her tiptoes. "Shhhh. Don't talk. Just shut up and kiss me."

  My hands settle on the curve of her hips, and my thumbs toy with the hem of her shirt. The pad of my thumb makes contact with her skin, and a low hum falls from her lips. I carry her over to the futon in the corner of the room. Her hands lock around my neck as our mouths come together, and when they meet, it's as if we've never been apart. She's so familiar. The slant of her mouth. The curve of her tongue.