by Caisey Quinn
Thanks to the modern miracle that is social media, I’m able to find SoCal student Corin Connelly from Brooklyn, New York online. I send her a friend request and then a message mentioning a few clubs Landen and I are considering hitting up later.
Just when I think I’m screwed and may have to tell O’Brien it’s a no go, a message window pops up on my phone and she tells me they may or may not be going to Shortie’s. Which means they are.
After an hour of convincing Landen to get his shit together and come the fuck on already, we head to Shortie’s. It’s a trendy off-campus spot in walking distance. The moment we walk through the doors we’re assaulted by the smells of alcohol and sweat. And sex. Yes, please. Maybe I’ll learn to love college after all.
Landen is tense—rigid as a corpse with a laser beam stare directed at the center of the room.
“It’s not the senior prom, man. Relax.”
But my words don’t help.
We take a seat at a high-rise table beside the dance floor and I flag down a waitress. She doesn’t ask for ID when I order us two beers and I pray that’s a good sign for how this night will go.
The moment Blondie sees Landen watching her like a hawk, she goes all deer in head lights and spins away from Red before disappearing into the crowd.
Landen mumbles something about being right back and dips out on me as soon as the waitress drops off our beers. More for me, I suppose.
I keep an eye out on my roommate in case he rockets off into another rage-filled fit, but so far he’s just talking with his blonde blast from the past at the bar. Close talking. Her body language says she’s into it, so I return my attention to my drink. “Here we go again,” I mutter under my breath. If the scene taking place at the bar is any indication, I’m in for another night of angst-filled insanity when all I want to do is drink, dance, and get laid. I never intended to be the sidekick to the craziest motherfucker on campus and yet, apparently that has become my lot in life. Clearly the universe is punishing me for getting more than my share of ass in high school. Greed is a sin, after all. So is lust. And gluttony and…whatever. I’m probably going to Hell regardless. My dad’s half Jewish and my mom’s Catholic. Not sure what that makes me but we only attended any kind of services on rare holidays so I’m probably screwed already.
“You saving this one for someone special?”
The voice is feminine and familiar. It warms my blood and turns me on all at once.
Red. Her crimson nails trail the neck of the Bud Light bottle before she lifts it to her similarly stained lips. My cock twitches hard in her direction.
“I was, but I guess he got a better offer.” I nod toward the bar where our roommates are practically taking body shots off one another. “So glad the kids are playing nice this evening.”
“And what about you, Skylar? Do you play nice?”
Her silvery cobalt blue dress reminds me of smoke blown into the dark and hugs her curves in all the right places. I want to lick every inch of her. Twice.
I stand to join her on the dance floor, grabbing my beer as I go. “No, sweetheart. I don’t.”
The tiniest hint of a smile lifts one corner of her mouth. “Then how do you play?”
I lead her onto the floor, pulling her backside close to my front so I can whisper my answer in her ear loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Dirty, Red. I play dirty.”
Skylar’s voice lingers in my ear, the damp heat sending shivers down my spine. His hands stay in the appropriate zones while we dance but his fingers graze the edge of the danger zone when I let them.
I want him.
I hate myself for wanting him.
He’s the exact brand of asshole I promised myself I’d never get involved with again. Self-centered, arrogant, and probably has the attention span of a gold fish.
I’m the shiny new toy that has his attention at the moment but I know the next short skirt that comes along will probably distract him so I decide to enjoy the heady sensation of being bathed in male attention while it lasts.
My ass grinds against what I can tell is an impressive erection and a small moan escapes my throat.
He’s an athlete, one hell of a dancer, and probably has enough stamina to do this—and more—all night.
Don’t go there, Corin.
I step a little further away and he backs off. A wave of disappointment rushes over me but when I see the apologetic grin on his lips, I smile back. He took the hint and is being respectful. So maybe not the exact brand of asshole I thought then.
Skylar twists and dips me old-fashioned Hollywood style and it effectively eases the tension between us. Somewhat. I let out a small laugh and he pulls me close.
“You’re good at this,” he says easily.
“You’re not so bad. Haven’t stepped on my feet at least.”
Skylar wraps an arm around my waist and we sway to the beat of whatever song is playing. I feel it, the intensity radiating off of him. The want. The physical attraction. And that’s why this is dangerous. Because the old me would’ve given in, would’ve taken him up on any and all offers he made.
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Corin,” he says over the music but I can’t be sure I heard him right.
“What?”
“I wouldn’t hurt you—by stepping on your feet. I’ve been going to clubs in LA since I was fifteen.” His hands slides just below the small of my back sending a zing of awareness up my spine.
I attempt to force a smile. Oh you’d hurt me plenty, Skylar Martin. I know his type. Smooth—too smooth. In love with the thrill of the chase but loses interest in the prey once it’s caught. Been there, screwed that, got the battle wounds to prove it.
“Well I’ve been going to New York clubs since I was thirteen and I will hurt you if that hand ventures any lower.”
Skylar grins then glances over to where Landen and Layla are now dancing beside us. Landen is a solid dancer and even though I haven’t made my mind up about it him yet, I see it. The undeniable chemistry between him and my roommate. The way several other girls are checking him out but he only has eyes for one. Something twinges low in my stomach but I don’t think it’s jealously. Layla is a sweet girl—she definitely deserves to have a guy swooning all over her. Envy, I guess. I’m a little envious that Landen’s universe seems to center around where she stands. But I can’t help remembering her words and the hurt so heavy in them when she told me what happened back in high school.
“Spin me,” I say, just to have an excuse to check on Layla. “That direction.” I jerk my head toward where they’re swaying intimately to the slower song that just began. I hip check my roommate and she smiles to let me know she’s okay. She also flushes like she’s embarrassed and I wonder what dirty thoughts were playing in her pretty head before I interrupted.
“You good?”
She smiles and nods before looking back at Landen like…I don’t even know. Like he’s some golden Greek god sent here from the heavens.
He handles her carefully and protectively while they dance, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not the stable type that can keep it together forever. While he isn’t checking out any other women, he is definitely giving a severe warning glare to every male in the vicinity.
“Dance with Layla for a minute,” I say to Skylar. I break in between Landen and Layla, practically getting burned by the heat singeing in the small space, without waiting for a response from my dance partner.
“Two things,” I say, leaning up on my tiptoes to reach Landen’s ear.
He arches an eyebrow but says nothing. He looks as if I’ve snatched his remaining supply of crack away and he’s jonesing for another hit.
Jesus. This is going to be harder than I thought. I go into level ten bitch mode.
“One, I like her,” I tell him as we both watch Layla laugh at whatever Skylar is saying. “She’s good people. And I basically have zero faith in humanity and generally don’t care for other females at all, so it’s saying som
ething. I’m not going to be happy watching some asshole hurt her.”
Landen swallows and nods. He opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off.
“Two, I know a lot of people back in New York who don’t like it when I’m unhappy. For the right price, I can have your balls removed in pureed into my morning smoothie if I so choose. This is not an empty threat O’Brien.”
Landen’s eyes snap to mine and I can tell he’s checking to see how literal I’m being. I narrow mine to let him know I am deadly serious.
“Got it,” he answers quickly. “Balls gone.”
He grins but I maintain my glare as he returns to my roommate.
The more time I spend with her, the more I truly care about Layla. There’s something so sweet and genuinely pure about her and I can just see the world trying to taint it. I don’t want that to happen. I want her to get to hold onto that and I know first hand how heartbreak can steal it from you.
Skylar waves me over to the bar and I take the drink he offers.
“Whiskey sour,” he tells me. “Seemed like it suited your taste.”
I grin before taking a sip. “Oh yeah? And what do you know about my taste?”
His eyes widen briefly before zeroing in on mine. Skylar downs the remainder of his own drink in one swallow and leans forward.
“You smell like strawberries. Sweet and tangy and unique. My money says you taste just like that.”
I nearly choke on my drink but I work hard to hide my reaction. Heat shoots straight to my core, warming the space between my thighs to a dangerous level. The steady pulsating throb begins—a warning that I am about to go where I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t.
For a moment I’m at a loss for words—which never happens to me.
Skylar wants to taste me. I want him to taste me. I want him to drown in me, to make me feel that feeling, the one I crave so deeply it hurts. Closeness. Intimacy. The high of being wanted so profoundly threatens to disorient me. But just before I tell him to take me back to his place so we can check his theory on my particularly flavor, the fog clears and I realize my roommate is missing.
“Keep your money, Martin,” I say while pulling my hair up off my neck to alleviate my overheating situation. “Let’s go find our friends.”
The moment we step outside into the cooler evening air, I see them. And I see red. Fucking Landen O’Brien, I swear.
He’s practically mauling my roommate against the building. But the way her body is responding I’d say she’s into it. A few more minutes of watching and I might be into it.
“Get some, O’Brien,” Skylar mutters on a laugh. “’Bout damn time.”
I smack him lightly on the chest with the back of my hand. I don’t know if they hear us approaching so I call out a warning before they take their public steamy make out session any further.
“You did not just give her the very first kiss of her life in an alley,” I say loudly. “Although, it looked pretty hot, so I might allow it.”
Layla turns ten shades of pink so I wink at her. Good for her for finally taking what she wanted. No shame in that. Though this is not what I had in mind when I wanted her to get kissed, I can see now that he’s the only one she would’ve wanted this with.
“Jesus, Ginger. You have fan-fucking-tastic timing. Anyone ever tell you that?” Landen looks ready to throttle me. Down, boy.
“Anyone ever tell you the definition of romance? Here’s a hint. It doesn’t include dirty alleys downtown. And for the record, the last guy who called me Ginger hasn’t been seen or heard from in months.”
I’m not even close to joking, but Skylar chuckles from behind me. Glad I amuse you, Martin.
We call one of the campus cabs to take us back to the dorm. I’m surprised when the boys get out and walk us to our door. It’s a serious hike back to the athlete dorms and I tell Skylar so as Layla and Landen step a few feet away from us.
“It’ll be good for O’Brien. He’ll probably want to fucking jog home—burn off some of that excess energy.”
“Oh yeah? And what about you? You got any excess energy pent up?” I can see the tension rolling off of him and I can guess how he’d rather be working it off.
Skylar watches me closely, as if he can sense that I’m testing him. Looky here, ladies and gentlemen. He’s pretty and he has a brain.
“Nope,” he says evenly, placing his hands in his pockets. “Cool as a cucumber. How about you, Red?”
My heart pounds a little harder because yeah, there is definitely some residual lust simmering in my system from the dancing and grinding and feeling him close against me in the cab.
Whatever cologne he wears should be renamed “to hell with your inhibitions” or “leave your panties and self-esteem at the door.”
But I won’t give in. Not tonight and maybe not ever. I am here for a reason and the reason is not to get fucked and fucked over by the school’s star goalie. No matter how hot or how appealing he is.
I’m here for me, dammit. If I wanted to throw everything away for sex I would’ve stayed back in New York.
I fake an exaggerated yawn. “I’m good. Pretty much just ready to crash.”
Skylar makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Neither of us will surrender tonight. We need a subject change. Quickly.
“So how did practice go after Landen attacked what’s-his-face at the party?”
Skylar launches into a replay of his version of the party then tells me that the guys actually talked and things were cool between by the end of practice.
This must be the difference between high school and college. Or maybe it’s the difference between New York and California. Because where I’m from, a standoff like that between to hotheaded alpha males would’ve resulted in someone getting his legs broken sooner or later.
Once the conversation dies down, there is silence filled only with definite interest and arousal reeling in Skylar’s unwavering gaze. It’s intoxicating and heady stuff being the focal point of so much concentrated male desire, but I won’t be taking that downward spiraling path. Not here. Not now. This is my do-over, dammit.
I turn toward my roommate and gesture at the door. “You kids about done here?”
Landen blinks as if he forgot anyone else existed. Clearly I’ve interrupted yet another intimate moment. “Seriously, Ginger, your timing is impeccable. Can I get you a collar with bells or something so I can hear you coming next time?”
I smirk and roll my eyes. Dude will live.
“So we have an inter-squad scrimmage Tuesday night if you ladies want to come,” Skylar says casually as we approach the door and the end of our evening.
“Well see,” I say, making sure to only convey the same or less interest than his tone did.
He gives me a sort of sweet goodbye hug but I refuse to inhale his scent for fear I’d relax into his arms. I disentangle myself as smoothly as possible and reach for the door but it won’t budge.
“This door’s locked after hours,” I inform everyone. I forgot about needing our IDs to get in and left mine in the dorm. “We have to go in the side entrance. Layla, do you have your card with you?”
She says she does but it doesn’t matter because some guys come barreling out of the door anyway. I grab it with one hand to make sure it doesn’t shut. There is a small commotion behind me so I turn to see what’s happening.
One of the guys maybe, maybe brushed by Layla and Landen is going fifty kinds of psycho. He’s got his arms around her and is murmuring soothing words like someone made an attempt on her life. Layla looks…annoyed and a little embarrassed. I look at Skylar, who looks as confused as I am about the whole thing.
Okay then, so O’Brien is officially a total nut job. Time to find my roomie a more mentally stable option in the male companion department.
But then he looks helplessly at me and I see a swirling storm of emotions in his eyes that I don’t expect.
Fear. Concern. Outright anxiety that makes him look ten years older than he
is.
It’s the same exact combination that used to seize me with panic when my mom would go out for the night and I had no idea if she’d return in one piece.
He says something that sounds like “you have to tell her,” but Layla shrugs him off. “I don’t have to do anything. Goodnight, Landen. Skylar,” she says without a backward glance at any of us.
Whoa. I think that’s the coldest I’ve ever seen my sweet little roommate be. Toward anyone.
I have no clue what’s going on but I know it’s time for the boys to leave. “Go home, soccer boys.” I wink at Skylar to let him know I’m not holding him accountable for whatever the hell just went down. Even if I can’t give him what he wants, I’d like to be able to be friends. He seems like a fun guy and it’s not like anyone’s beating down my door to hang out. I can’t help but be irritated that Landen’s mood swing kind of put a damper on what was supposed to be a fun night and I’m sure it shows on my face.
We make our way up to our room without speaking but once we settle in, I have to ask.
“So what was his deal back there?” I pull off my boots and begin removing my jewelry. “What do you need to tell me?”
Layla looks like an angry kitten. “Corin, who cares about his deal? What the hell was that about tonight?”
I roll my eyes because hello, I saw just how upset she was about him shoving his tongue down her throat. “Don’t pretend to be mad…I saw you two in that alley. That was hot. Seriously. And I’m not sure he’s playing with a full deck, but it was about damn time someone made a move.”
“You promised me before we left there’d be no talking about Landen O’Brien tonight.”
She’s got me there, but still. Like my mom’s friend Tony always says, don’t bullshit a bullshitter. “Yes, I did. And I kept that promise. I didn’t hear anyone talking about him tonight. Until now.” I head into the bedroom to put on pajamas.
“Okay, so you found a loophole. But I call B.S. because you know what I mean.”
I sigh loudly because, come the hell on. I’m not blind. But I shouldn’t have gone behind her back and I am sorry for catching her off guard. “Fine, I’m sorry about the sneak attack. But we were already planning to go out, and Skylar texted and asked if we wanted to meet up. I didn’t even say that we did. I just casually mentioned where we were going. It’s a free campus, Layla. They can go out wherever they please.”