Breaking the Plan: Mill Street Series #1

by Calla, Jessica

  Taryn looked over my shoulder, behind me. “My parents. They must have driven straight from work.”

  I rocked back and forth on my heels as they approached, unsure why I was nervous. Taryn’s mom, Gloria, looked like an older version of her. Her dad, George, looked nothing at all like her, with his dark hair and features. I shook his hand and stood tall, trying to act like an adult as she introduced me as “my friend Oliver.”

  They responded, “Oh, Violet’s boyfriend?”

  I cringed and caught Taryn’s gaze. She gave me a reassuring nod.

  “Yeah. That’s me. Sort of.”

  “Thank you for getting her here,” Mr. Markos said. “We can relieve you now.”

  My breath hitched. “Oh. Um, I was kind of hoping I could stick around for the show.”

  Taryn lifted her perfectly tweezed brows, another task she’d completed on the car ride down. “You want to stay?”

  “I’d love to watch. If I’m allowed.”

  She pulled me into a hug, her hot rollers bouncing to hit my face. “Sure. You’re my official assistant. It’s on the books.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and whispered in her ear, the scent of vanilla engulfing me. “I think it’s amazing that you are doing this. On behalf of New Jersey, I thank you.”

  She giggled and smacked me on the back. “You’ll drive me home after?”

  “Absolutely.” The idea of not being the one to drive her back unsettled me. “I’d love to.”

  After leaving Taryn with her parents, I walked out of the contestants’ area and spun for a last look. Mr. and Mrs. Markos were chatting at her. Her mom was already taking the curlers out, but Taryn’s eyes were on me.

  I waved with my good hand.

  I hated change. Hated when plans got derailed. In the course of a few weeks, I’d been dumped, Violet had left, and now I found myself with her roommate at a beauty pageant in Philadelphia. If someone had told me a month ago that this would be happening, I would have thought them insane. But without even meaning to, without a plan for doing so, my life had changed somehow on its own.

  What scared me was that I didn’t really mind.

  After I left the pageant circus, I spent the day exploring Philadelphia. I grabbed a seat at the bar of a famous Belgian beer garden and watched the Eagles game. I checked out the Liberty Bell. Hung out at Betsy Ross’s house. Wondered if Taryn was learning her routines and drinking enough water. I kept myself busy until seven o’clock and then headed back to the venue. I didn’t see Taryn’s parents in the crowd. Figuring they’d bolted or were backstage, I made my way into the VIP seating section of the Miss Lovely America pageant.

  Taryn was stunning, of course. When she took the stage in her bikini, I looked around the audience, proud, as if everyone could see that I was the one who spray tanned her with a can of color from her makeup suitcase. When she modeled the green dress, she put her hair up on top of her head and added sticks to it, like chopsticks. I couldn’t help smiling, remembering that only hours ago we were eating Chinese food like regular people, and now she was on television. She made it into the final twenty, but she didn’t make it into the final ten. And despite her earlier concerns, she certainly didn’t make a fool out of herself.

  Man, spending time with Taryn did something to me. I’d almost forgotten that I was pre-law, getting ready for Harvard so I could spend the next ten years as an overworked associate at the firm. That night I was just a beauty contestant’s assistant—and friend. At least, I thought it was safe to say that Taryn and I had officially, finally, become friends.

  * * *

  Taryn

  Twenty-four hours after I’d received the call to get my butt down to Philly, Oliver drove us back to NJU. On the way home, he listened to his old school tunes, singing softly as I drifted in and out of sleep. The bags under his eyes showed how tired he was and reminded me that he’d sacrificed his entire day for me.

  He lumbered up the metal staircase, lugging my makeup case, my hot rollers, and my dress. After I fumbled with the key, we fell into the apartment sometime around two a.m. Literally fell. We shut the door behind us, threw down the bags, and collapsed flat onto the carpet.

  “Oh my God, it still smells like Chinese,” I groaned.

  Oliver laid on his stomach, me on my back. Our shoulders overlapped. He took a deep sniff as he turned his head to face me. “I only smell carpet.”

  I grabbed his arm, pulling at his shirt sleeve. “I’ll open a window. We should go to bed.”

  “I’m fine here,” he mumbled, his eyes closing.

  I started to stand, but my body felt so heavy. So tired.

  He wrapped his arm around my waist, the cast weighing me down, and wiggled closer. “Stay.”

  The heat of his body relaxed me and my breathing evened out. I turned on my side to face him. “We can’t sleep together.”

  “It’s the floor,” he slurred. “Doesn’t count.”

  Then we had a yawn fest. He yawned. I caught it. He caught it back. His arm felt nice around me.

  “You were phenomenal tonight, Bella,” he said, wiggling closer.

  Bells and whistles went off like an alarm in my head, as Oliver’s body lined up with mine. I was so tired that I blocked it all out and decided not to care. “Thank you for everything,” I whispered.

  Half asleep, I leaned closer to him and kissed his nose. I knew it was wrong. That we were too close. That my lips should not be anywhere near him. But it was the floor and it didn’t count. He’d said so.

  He didn’t react, except to squeeze me closer. He shut his eyes and his breathing deepened.

  I laid there, studying him as he slept, fighting sleep myself. His curls fell over his forehead. His brows needed some serious manscaping, but I’d never noticed that his skin was perfect. Not a blemish on him. And that mouth. Damn, his lips looked like someone had painted them on. Their perfect shade of pink, the curve of the bottom lip, and the little dip in the top. With a shaky hand, I reached out to touch them but pulled my hand back when he let out an exhale.

  I had to stop looking at him. He’d saved me tonight without so much as a snarky comment, which meant something to me. But it was too much to figure out at the moment.

  Gently, I twisted in his arms so that my back was to his front, and we spooned. Behind me, he nudged his head closer, his nose landing in my hair. My body settled as it lined up with his—his thighs behind mine, his groin against my ass, his chest against my back. Yep, I was snuggling with Oliver, of all people, on the floor of my apartment.

  When I yawned again, my chest expanded and brushed against his fingertips. The contact lit up every nerve ending from my nipple to my toes. I faked another yawn to feel the contact again. I could have sworn he moved his thumb in response too. As I fought the urge to wiggle my hips back against him, my body gave out. I was too tired to make any more moves.

  Moves? Was I making moves on Oliver? Oh, this was bad. So bad.

  Thank God the floor doesn’t count, I told myself as I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Oliver

  I woke up on my back, staring at the ceiling of the Mill Street apartment with Taryn’s head resting on my chest and her hair fanned over me.

  What the actual fuck?

  And it did still smell like Chinese. Chinese mixed with vanilla and carpet.

  I stayed there for a second, shutting my eyes and trying to fake myself out that I was still sleeping and there was no need for me to think or move. When Taryn shifted, I prayed she wouldn’t wake up so I could hold her a little longer.

  Shit. That meant trouble.

  I told myself it was a fluke. This was Taryn, after all. I didn’t like her.

  Lie. I did like her, but she was Vi’s roommate. She’d slept with Josh. She wasn’t my type, whatever the hell that was. Violet was the only one I’d ever been with and the only type for me, not the sexy blonde in my arms.

  I’m asleep. These thoughts were perfectly okay because I was
still asleep and not aware of anything. I didn’t notice how her leg wrapped around mine, her thigh dangerously close to my morning wood. Or how her hand rested on one half of my chest and her tits on the other. Nope. I’m sound asleep so I didn’t have to halt any of that from happening.

  Yeah, right.

  It was only because I missed Violet so much. I’d been sleeping with her for five years, and now I was rebounding from the love of my life. That was it. Everything felt different with Taryn because she was different, which made total sense. When Violet was in my arms, I felt settled, like a protector. She was the baby bird in my nest, and I spread my wings to keep her warm and away from predators. With Taryn, I felt like… I squeezed my eyes closed and let my mind wander. What did it feel like?

  It didn’t feel like I was shielding or protecting her from anything. It almost felt needy, desperate. The way her body was flung over mine. The way I tried to keep her attached to me—my casted hand resting over hers on my chest, the other snaked around her back and sitting on her hip.

  I was needy. She was needy. A needy horny guy plus a needy lonely girl could not equal anything good.

  She also felt solid. Curvy and strong, like she could break me with her thighs. Like I could wrestle with her and she might actually win. My dick twitched, my erection changing from morning wood to raging hard-on.

  Asleep. I was asleep and just thinking. Nothing wrong with that. With deep breaths, I thought about baseball. My grandparents. The Bill of Rights. Anything to ease the awesome strain in my pants.

  I laid there fake sleeping—ignoring my aching back, my numb arm under Taryn’s body, my erection, and my itchy wrist in the fucking cast—until my phone rang from somewhere next to me.

  I lifted my hand from hers, hoping to find the phone without waking myself from my fake slumber, or her from her real one. But by the third ring, Taryn separated from me, rubbing her eyes.

  “Morning,” she groaned. She pressed her hands into her back and stuck out her chest, stretching.

  Damn.

  The phone rang a fourth time. I rolled to my side to reach it.

  Josh’s middle finger flashed across the screen. I opened the call. “What’s up?” As I yawned into the phone, Taryn stood, stretched again, and then walked into the kitchen.

  “I was worried. I haven’t seen you in two days.” Josh’s pissed off voice pissed me off.

  “I told you I wouldn’t be home.” I’d texted him from Philly the day before.

  “Yeah, yesterday, asshole. Where are you now?”

  “What are you, my mother?” The last thing I needed was a lecture from Josh about spending time with Taryn.

  “I saw Vi’s post and thought you drank yourself into oblivion and were lying in a ditch, you prick. Answer your fucking phone.” He hung up on me.

  I’d forgotten about Violet’s Instagram post. With my history, it made sense that Josh would be concerned. I called him back, and he picked up without a word.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to silence. “You’re right. I was a prick.”

  “Are you in one piece?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in class later.”

  I pulled up my calendar app. It was Monday, and we had women’s studies that afternoon. He’d begged me to take it with him so he could pick up girls. I’d only agreed because it fit into my schedule and gave me three credits, but it turned out to be a decent class. We never skipped.

  Taryn walked back in with two cups of coffee.

  “God bless you, woman,” I said as I took Vi’s “Bach Rocks” mug from Taryn.

  “Least I could do.” Her morning voice was crackly. I’d never noticed before. Whenever I’d stayed over with Vi, Taryn and I had no more than grunted at each other in the morning.

  I watched her lips as she took a sip from her steaming unicorn mug and held my gaze over the rim, her green eyes way too bright for first thing in the morning. We sat there looking at each other in silence. Maybe we were freaked out. Maybe we thought we should be more freaked out than we were. Either way, something had happened last night, and it probably wasn’t good.

  Violet. I loved Violet. I shouldn’t be cuddled up on the floor all night with her hot roommate, or eye screwing her over coffee the morning after.

  I gulped mine down, burning my tongue in the process, and jumped up off the floor. “Um, I should go.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, right. Yeah. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” She stood up in a graceful move, without using her hands.

  I shifted, rubbing the back of my neck. “No, it’s not that—”

  She held a finger to my lips. “Ollie?”

  Nodding, I gulped at the feel of a part of her on my mouth.

  “Last night was…interesting. We don’t have to talk about anything.” She bit her bottom lip. “But I will say one more time, thank you for this weekend. You came to my rescue, and I appreciate that.”

  “I—”

  Her finger pressed into my lips even harder. I wanted to tell her that it was my pleasure to help her. That she was amazing. That she still owed me a flute performance. But her finger stopped me. In a way, I wanted to wrap my lips around it and suck it to see if she’d react. Bite it. Something.

  But then she said, “I don’t think we should hang out anymore.”

  My thoughts bounced from fuck to thank God to fuck again. She was right, in theory. But my chest ached from her words. Emptiness and nausea overtook me. “Oh? I mean, yeah, I’m sorry—”

  “Please don’t say that. It’s nothing you did.” She paced, her hands wrapped around the unicorn mug. “I’m not sure Vi would approve,” she pointed to the floor, “of that, last night, right?”

  She tapped her fingernail against the ceramic mug as she stopped moving and looked at me.

  My gut wanted me to say, “Last night was amazing,” and to sweep her off her feet and carry her right into her bedroom—after safely putting down the hot coffee, of course. But my brain reminded me that: (a) I probably couldn’t lift her, (b) I was in love with Violet, and (c) Taryn was way out of my league. Her declaration probably meant she was noticing that I, Nerdilicious, was getting a little too comfortable around her, and she’d decided it was time to rein things in. Hell, maybe she’d noticed my hard-on before the phone rang.

  So instead, I said, “Right.”

  Despite my sudden attraction to Taryn, Violet was my forever. In my mind, she was my future wife and life partner. I couldn’t risk that for a day, weekend, or one moment of passion with Taryn, even if by some miracle she was into me that way.

  Which she wasn’t. Even if she did press her tit into my hand last night, and even if her nipple hardened as I grazed it with my thumb.

  Nope. She wasn’t into me. And I wasn’t into her. And Vi wouldn’t definitely not approve of what was going on between us.

  * * *

  Taryn

  The two weeks after the pageant dragged as fall set in and the leaves started to turn. Vi had been gone for almost a month and I missed her. I’d never lived alone, even if it felt that way sometimes when I was a kid. If I was being honest with myself, I missed Oliver too. But whenever I got the urge to text him, I chalked it up to boredom and reminded myself that last time we were together I had pressed my boob into his hand. Not to mention that I was the one who had decided we shouldn’t hang out anymore.

  To keep my mind occupied, I asked Mr. Johnson for a job at the general store we lived over. Work-study was fine for tuition, but having extra cash never hurt. He gave me ten hours per week as a store clerk to start off.

  My first day was okay. Mr. Johnson’s son, a grad student named Grant, taught me how to work the register. It was kind of cool that students were in and out all day buying life’s necessities—like chocolate bars for the unbelievable price of three for a dollar, notebooks, and various NJU sundries. Kept my mind off of Oliver. Kind of.

  I also committed to figuring out what to do about my senior t
hesis. With Oliver’s “collaboration,” I had picked a topic, gathered a few sources, and made some progress, but I still had to write the abstract. Tomorrow, I told myself. I would do that tomorrow.

  Friday night after a week of work and solitude, I vowed to sass myself up and get out of the apartment and back into the world. The stress of school, money, and my feelings about my roommate’s nerdy ex overloaded my mind. What I needed was one night with a big, brawny hottie to clear it.

  It was October and I hadn’t had sex since Memorial Day weekend. I was due for a night of fun. Grinding up on my roommate’s ex-boyfriend the night of the pageant was evidence of that. I’d tried to convince myself that the grinding wasn’t because of Ollie, or how he called me “Bella,” or that he’d taken care of me all weekend. It wasn’t because I liked him, couldn’t be. It was because I was a twenty-one-year-old female with needs—needs that hadn’t been met in over four months. Once I was able to meet those needs, all thoughts of Nerdilicious would fly out the back door.

  I texted Rachel and invited myself to tag along with her and her sorority sisters to The Study. The group was meeting at the Student Center at ten and walking over together, which worked out perfectly for me.

  After I showered, I wrapped myself in my robe and brewed a cup of coffee. Since I was actively looking for a night of passion, I’d have to dress the part. My closet wasn’t as full as Vi’s, but there were a couple of things in there that could do the trick. I had to be strategic. The sorority girls would be in dresses since it was still warm enough to show legs.

  I opted to be a little different and pulled out my favorite pair of jeans that made my ass look incredible. I paired them with a lacy pink bra under a super loose, thin white shirt that accidentally on purpose fell off my shoulder, and my bootie heels. I’d try for the approachable look—the casual-girl-dragged-out-by-sorority-friends angle. Like I didn’t want to be there, got ready in five minutes, but still can’t help looking amazing.