by Rachel Shane
He smashed the dough back into a ball and presented it to me, his warm breath on my ear as he watched. He could have moved away, given me more space, but he stayed right where he was, pressed against me, his hands locking me into place. I felt his body heat alongside the heat of the oven, and his breath moved the hair next to my ear in a way that sent goosebumps tingling all over my body. God, I wanted to turn around and finish kissing him the way we’d started at the doll museum. I distracted myself by focusing on the task, sliding my hands into the squishy dough, pulling just like he did, wishing my hands were running all over him instead of gooey carbohydrates.
“Good,” he breathed against me. “You’re getting it. Just like that.”
I closed my eyes, imagining those were words he was saying to me in the bedroom.
“Whew!” Taylor waved a hand in front of his face. “This is a family place.”
Trevor stepped back from me an inch, separating his body from mine, and a sharp blast of cold air replaced him. It felt like a loss.
But also a gain. This was the real Trevor, his roots, where he came from, where he would end up if he didn’t re-start his career. This was the life he could have had. The life he didn’t want.
His back-up plan.
I didn’t have a back-up, just a Hail Mary in the form of the podcast.
“Now,” Trevor said. “We toss.”
He threw the dough into the air the same way his brother was doing, catching it on the tips of his fingers and spinning to help flatten it. He was so graceful in his movements, but of course, he always held poise and grace on stage even as he sang crass words and smashed guitars. “Ready?” He jutted his chin toward the dough I’d been working with.
But it seemed like a loaded question. It wasn’t just about pizza. It was about everything. Him. The rest of my life. A career I might not be prepared for the repercussions of. “Not a chance,” I said with a laugh. But I tossed that dough high in the air and watched it spin, spin, spin. My fingers punctured straight through the dough on the catch.
Victor made an anguished sound and Taylor clutched his heart as if I’d stabbed him instead of uncooked pizza.
Trevor simply grabbed the dough from my hand and molded it into a ball again. “That’s okay, try again.”
And that seemed to sum up Trevor’s entire philosophy in life. When your first attempt didn’t work, try, try again.
IT TURNED OUT TWENTY-SEVEN was the number of tries I needed to finally form a decent circle of dough. Worth the effort. The pizza was the best thing I’d ever tasted, oozing with cheese and pepperoni and laced with garlic. After every bite I had to take a break to close my eyes and savor the flavor, sighing at the goodness. Trevor’s family laughed, claiming I’d been converted. That their pizza was a religious experience. That I’d been initiated into an elite club that got to taste a little slice of heaven.
It was the first exclusive club I’d been initiated into that I felt right at home from the start.
In Key & Lock, I always felt like I was walking on egg shells. One wrong move and I’d be promptly kicked out, my career forever suffering as all the doors that would have opened to me via their connections slammed shut at once. And in Rho Sigma, I had my core group of friends who I loved dearly, but I never felt close to the rest of the girls, especially not under Layla’s regime. Then with Underground Rho Sigma, I’d go to every meeting with my stomach clenched, wondering who would drop us like a potato and prove they were never my real friend to begin with. And now with the Rho Sigma/Out House conglomerate, none of us truly felt at home there. Yet.
But Trevor’s family made me feel like I was part of them right from the start. Little Baylor even insisted on sitting on my lap while I ate, and Bella kept bringing out pasta dish after dish for me to try, claiming each one was the best thing they made. And honestly, when I tasted each, she was right. Everything was spectacular. Manicotti stuffed with three kinds of cheese. Baked Ziti smothered in vodka sauce. Handmade gnocchi. My God.
And Trevor had given it all up.
His family delayed our departure by rotating hugs back and forth, back and forth. Trevor wore the biggest smile on his face as he headed to the car, and my heart swelled.
Inside the car, he turned to me, raising a brow. I leaned in, hoping maybe he’d kiss me. Or more. But instead he said, “I believe you have some place to take me.”
“Oh.” I scooted back into my seat, my cheeks flaming. “Right. Hold on, let me get the address.”
I dug out my phone and Googled the place I’d always gone before every Rho Sigma themed mixer to acquire the proper accessories to blend into the theme. “451 Eerie Boulevard.”
Trevor typed in the address into his GPS and then pulled out of the lot.
“Thank you.” I placed a palm on his thigh, squeezing slightly. “Your family’s amazing.”
His shoulders heaved in a happy little sigh. Or maybe a heavy one. “They are, but I do feel bad.”
I tilted my head at him. “Why?”
“Because they’re tanking. When I was famous, they refused to accept any money from me. And I only found out recently that they’re hemorrhaging.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I wish I could help them somehow.”
But he had no money now. My tongue hung thick and heavy in my mouth like stone.
“Maybe—” I bit my lip as an idea occurred to me. “Maybe I could hire them?”
He whipped his head to me. “For what?”
I personally had no money but that didn’t mean I didn’t have access to funds. “I know someone planning this big gala. I think I can get your family to cater it.”
If Keane would agree. If he didn’t find out their connection to Trevor.
I pulled out my phone and sent a text, cringing at the fact that I was texting another guy on what was essentially a date with a different one. Hey, for the Unlock Gala you mentioned at the last meeting, do you have a caterer yet?
Another text popped back immediately and my heart did a little flip flop. I ignored that reaction. Trevor eyed me as I shielded my phone to read. We’re talking to a few places. Why?
I wrote back, giving Trevor a smile as I did so. I was thinking it could be cool to get some local flare. Help out a small business for extra publicity. That kind of thing. I know this amazing pizza place that’s really struggling and they’re willing to offer a good deal in exchange for being a sponsor.
I was improvising, sure, but it wasn’t anything they would balk at.
Actually, that’s a great idea. What’s the name of the place? I’ll reach out.
I quickly texted back the name, gave Trevor the details, and he called Bella to give her the heads up about giving Keane a discount. Twenty minutes later she texted that it was all set. I couldn’t help but be impressed by how fast Keane worked. He heard about a deal and jumped on it before it expired.
We pulled into the parking lot of Eerie Costumes and Trevor gave me the side eye. “Costumes? Just so you know, Halloween isn’t for another eight months.”
“Then good thing we’re not planning to go trick or treating.” Well, maybe the treat part. If treats in this scenario were defined as kissing.
I immediately chastised myself for that thought. Not when Keane’s recent text messages still warmed my phone.
We headed inside the gray brick building. Costumes for rent swung from long thin racks filling the center of the warehouse space. Along the walls, accessories for any kind of costume you might imagine were stacked floor to ceiling. Most of the costume options ranged from Jungle party to Army party to Cops and Robbers to Heaven and Hell and every other mixer theme fraternities and sororities used to throw before they got shut down. It seemed Eerie Costumes didn’t get the memo. Usually this place was packed, after all, thirty fraternities and sororities had weekly theme parties, but a glance around told me we were essentially alone. Just us and a lone cashier.
Trevor spun around in place, looking entirely out of sorts in his generic t-shirt and ripped jeans
. “And we’re here because…?”
“Because you told me you don’t feel like yourself. So let’s pretend to be someone else.” I plucked the first costume I saw off the rack, a fair maiden from renaissance times. I wrinkled my nose at it. I’d spent far too much time as a Lady in Waiting. I set it back and picked up a female pirate costume instead, complete with a black skirt cut to sharp triangles at the bottom. Because female pirates apparently weren’t man enough to wear pants. Or more accurately, girls wearing female pirate costumes wanted to wear as little clothing as possible.
Trevor crossed his arms. “I’m not opposed to seeing you wearing that. But…isn’t this too close to the guy I’m trying to leave behind?”
I stepped closer to him, invading his personal space. The air felt charged, exhilarating. “That guy did everything for publicity, not because he wanted to. Tonight is for only doing what you want to do.”
He grabbed my hand fast, before I could spin away. Before I could make him leave. “Okay,” he whispered. “But only for you. Only”—he glanced around—”here.”
His face lit up as he headed for the first aisle.
“What are you going to pick?”
“It’s a surprise.” He winked. And then he sprinted off to the opposite side of the store where the men’s clothes hung from racks.
My insides instantly went on alert. Now it was a competition. With laser focus, I put back the pirate costume and zoomed through the aisles, peeling back each piece of clothing until I landed on the perfect options. I carried all four costumes to the back of the store, using a fifth rejected one as a cover in case Trevor saw me. He was waiting by the dressing rooms, legs crossed at the ankles, smirk etched on his face. “A sixties girl?” he said with mock disgust.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I brushed past him and entered one of the fitting rooms. The door across the way slammed shut. Through the crack on the bottom, I watched as his shirt hit the floor, then his pants. Trevor, naked two feet and two closed doors away. Heat swept through my body at that thought, centering between my thighs. With shaking fingers, I ripped off my own clothes and shrugged into my first costume choice. Zombie Alice in Wonderland. A little bit classic, a little bit hard edge, a little bit unexpected. The pale blue skirt hit in the center of my thighs, the fabric stained with dried blood. A white pinafore hung over my torso, slashed in several places. Black and white striped knee highs covered my legs with a black and white bra to poke out beneath the blue dress and lift my boobs up. I slid on the blond wig, complete with a black streak in the hair and a cobweb bow.
When I opened the door, Trevor was already waiting for me. He laughed at the sight of me, but I could only stare at how fucking good he looked in the fuzzy bear pants, glitzy glam silver button down shirt, and an elaborate fascinator on his head with a peacock feather sticking out. It was the perfect mix of weird and normal, of rock glam and strange. It was exactly what Clever Trevor would have picked. He had a talent for fashion disasters and the weirdest part was he looked fantastic. He was the only guy in the world who could pull off fuzzy pants with clawed feet at the bottom and still look damn sexy.
And here I was looking like a little girl playing dress up. A children’s book character aged up into the adult world, but not quite pulling it off. He’d laughed at me, in good fun, but he still laughed. I wanted him to be unable to stop staring instead.
“Just so you know, the PR team may have encouraged my eccentricity, but the outfit choices were all mine.”
I nodded. “I believe it.”
He sucked in a breath at those words. “Next?”
Before he could spin around and slam the door, I reached behind me and slid down the zipper of the dress. Trevor’s eyes narrowed, lit by a glint of interest. His whole demeanor changed, going from relaxed against the door to bolting upright, giving me his full attention to watch. But he didn’t just watch. He joined in. His fingers reached to the front of his shirt and fumbled to remove the buttons.
I slid the dress off my shoulders, going as slowly as possible. Dragging this out. A nervous flutter warmed my belly as I tugged the dress down below my new striped bra, over my hips, until it fell in a pool around my feet. But I didn’t feel a rush of cold, instead it was the opposite, as the heat forming inside me and the heating system in the store worked in conjunction to spread a warm flush over my skin.
Trevor tossed his own shirt behind him, revealing the rock hard abs that lined his stomach and the gorgeous tattoos I’d only caught a glimpse of earlier. My breath caught as his fingers looped into the waist band of his pants. I slid the knee high socks off my legs, one at a time, until I was standing only in my bra and underwear. One borrowed. One all mine. My breath caught as Trevor paused for a moment to take me in, and then worked faster to kick his pants off his legs.
He stood there, looking ridiculous in his fascinator and his boxers, but then he took one off, sliding the boxers down his legs without any abandon, until he stood before me in only the fascinator. My body thrummed at the sight of him—all of him—no tabloid blurriness or cellophane to distort the image. I worked faster, my fingers scrambling to unhook my bra. I let it drop, and his jaw followed as he drank in the sight of me. My whole body thumped with need and I scrambled to yank my underwear off, kicking it to the side.
He crossed the two feet toward me with a look of pure hunger in his eyes, cupping his hands on either side of my cheeks and bending me back into a deep kiss. “I remember from the podcast how much you like strip teases.”
We fumbled into my dressing room, tripping over the clothes on the floor. My lower lip tingled from the nip of his teeth and his hands seized me, rubbing over every inch of the skin I’d uncovered for him to explore. My own hands went straight for his ass, cupping his tight buns. I let out a moan as his lips left my mouth and moved downward, sucking gently along my neck. Tingles spread as he kissed lower, taking my nipple into his mouth, sucking. My whole body throbbed, needing him more. Closer. Lower.
I wrapped my arms around him tightly, unable to wait anymore. He let out his own growl as his mouth seized mine again. A trail of fire blazed in his wake and then surged as he parted my legs and slid his finger inside me. I let out a gasp, then a moan, at the intense pressure and pleasure that throbbed at once. God, his touch felt good. My own greedy hand reached for him and began stroking.
A knock on the door made us jump apart, both of us panting, but not from the surprise.
“I’m sorry but I need to ask you to leave.” The worker kicked my underwear back under the door. “Now.”
Trevor and I shared a giggle. My cheeks instantly burst in red and I mourned the loss of Trevor’s mouth against mine, his body warm to the touch and ready to go. With shaky fingers, I scrambled to pull my underwear back up. Trevor tossed me my bra and helped hook it, then waltzed out of there in all his naked glory, earning a yelp from a mother with a young child who’d just walked into the dressing room. We scrambled out with our heads down, stifling our giggles.
In the car, the energy was charged, my body still throbbing in anticipation. He raked his hand through his hair and glanced at me.
“So,” he said. And the word encased every question I was thinking. So, your place or mine? So, want to have sex? So, what just happened?
Yes, the word leapt to my lips, answering all questions at once, but before I could speak it, my phone vibrated with a text.
Keane.
Hey, you free? I need you. Can you come over?
My stomach swirled with both guilt and excitement.
AS KEANE’S TEXT STARED back at me, reality hit me like a tidal wave. This was a mistake. I still liked Keane too. I still wanted to see Keane naked too. Which meant I wasn’t ready to make a decision between him and Trevor.
I gave Trevor a guilty look, biting my lip.
He sighed, already guessing my hesitation, and put the car in reverse. “I’ll drive you back to my house to pick up your car.”
“Sorry.” I waved the phone at him. “Emerg
ency at the house,” I said, vaguely. After all, whatever Keane wanted from me was also at a house.
“Understood.” Trevor’s voice came out clipped and mean, despite the rawness scraping against his throat.
The crackling energy that had been sparkling between us went out in a candle snuff, and we spent the twenty minute car ride shifting in our seats awkwardly and listening to the heavy bass pumping through the speakers. When we reached his house, I debated leaning in for a kiss but he twisted half away from me and mumbled something about seeing me tomorrow for the next podcast recording. He wouldn’t be able to get out of that one, too.
I left the car and felt like I’d been blown over by the wind by what just happened. Even though I was the one who technically blew him off. I drove back to campus in a daze.
Inside my house, I refreshed my make-up, brushed my teeth, and adjusted my outfit to meet guy number two of the night. And by adjusted my outfit, I meant putting on sweats, telling the girls I was going to the library, and changing back into my date clothes in the bathroom. I was a liar. I was a slut. I was a horrible person.
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face at the prospect of seeing Keane.
His own face lit up when he opened the door to Key & Lock. He resided in one of the bedrooms on the top floor. He led me through the house, his body loping with each step. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
We entered one of the conference rooms used for important meetings with alumni where scholarship applications littered the desk. I wondered how they received so many already when we hadn’t actually announced anything yet. After all, our announcement was going to coincide with the Gala. He pointed to one near the front. “Take a look.”