Heart Stopper: Rebels of Rushmore Book One

by Hercules, Michelle

  Troy hangs his head low. “Ugh. You had to go there.”

  “Come on. It’s not a hard question. You’re a senior!” I say, trying to suppress my laughter, knowing Troy is being dramatic on purpose.

  “I know. I’m a business major, but while most of my classmates are all set with internships or actively looking for a job, I haven’t done any of that.”

  “You can always work for your father.”

  “Are you suggesting nepotism, Charlie?” He grins.

  I shrug. “I mean, it makes sense.”

  “Nah. It’s bad enough that he pushed me into that direction. I have no desire of actually working for him. I’m thinking about taking a year off to go travel, see the world.”

  “With all expenses paid by your parents,” I note and then regret it immediately. That was a judgmental comment. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, I get it. Easy assumption, but no, they wouldn’t pay for it. It’s actually a job opportunity of sorts.”

  “Oh, how so?”

  “I was approached by a digital media company a few months back. They have a YouTube channel, and they’re looking for athletes to create content for them. The pay is minimum—it’d only cover basic traveling expenses—but the experience would be priceless.”

  I can see the excitement shining in his eyes. He’s eager to do it, and that brings a sudden pang to my chest. It’s ridiculous. We’ve only known each other for a couple months, and I’m not even sure the status of our relationship yet. It’s definitely too new for me to be feeling sad about the possibility of Troy leaving.

  “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “Not yet. I have time. Besides, many things can happen between now and then.” He pierces me with one of his intense stares, completely messing with my ability to breathe properly.

  “True.” I take another sip of wine, trying to hide the effect he has on me. “A while back, I looked into the possibility of participating in an exchange program.”

  “You mean, studying abroad for a semester?”

  “Yeah. I was looking into partner schools in Europe.”

  “I take it you didn’t apply?”

  Sadness takes over me, and I regret opening my big mouth. “No, I didn’t.” I glance at my plate.

  “Why not?”

  With a sigh, I look at Troy again. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

  “No I won’t.”

  “I didn’t want to leave Ben for that long. I know he has my parents, but… I don’t know. Told you it was a stupid reason.” I reach for the glass of water.

  “It’s not stupid. You’re very protective of him. I get it. I’m also like that with Jane.”

  “But you’re not letting that keep you from going places.”

  Damn it, Charlie. This conversation is getting too heavy and depressing. It’s time to change the subject.

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure, like what?”

  “Tell me your thoughts on Ophelia having two boyfriends.”

  Troy scrunches his face up as if he’s in pain and groans. “God, I try my best to pretend they’re just friends.”

  The appetizers arrive, and we take a break from the ten-thousand-questions game. I don’t know how our conversation got deep so quickly. Maybe because we’re not really complete strangers. I worry for a bit that we’ll end up messing up, such as saying something thoughtless and going back to bickering and arguing. But once the food arrives, we keep our chitchat light.

  * * *

  The evening goes by in a flash, and before I know it, the Uber driver is dropping us off in front of the house. I was a little apprehensive about going out with Troy, but in the end, my worries were unjustified. Dinner was lovely. Troy was attentive, funny, and uber sexy—a dangerous combination to me. A cynic would think that was his master plan—to be charming and irresistible so he could win the bet. But he was too nervous in the beginning for that to be true. Poor thing even forgot to give me the flowers he’d bought.

  As we walk side by side toward the front door, my stomach is suddenly tied in knots, as if this were indeed a first date and I didn’t know what was going to happen. Is he going to kiss me? Should I invite him in for a nightcap?

  Those thoughts are ridiculous, of course. We’ve already fucked like bunnies, and we live together.

  Instead of unlocking the door, Troy turns to me and links his hand with mine. “So, here we are.” He smiles at me, revealing the twinkle in his eyes that I’ve quickly come to love.

  “Here we are.” I smile back.

  “I had a wonderful evening.”

  “Me too.”

  He doesn’t say another word, just stares at me. Blush is slowly spreading through my cheeks. The intensity in his gaze is making me a little uncomfortable. I don’t know what to say or do. The sexual tension between us is palpable. There seems to be a magnetic field pulling me to him. I have to fight the urge to jump into his arms and have my way with him right here on our front porch.

  “Well, would you like to come in?” I ask to break the silence.

  He chuckles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  It seems we’re keeping up with the charade that this is really a first date. If that’s the case, who’s going to make the first move? My hand is shaking a bit as I try to find the keyhole.

  Gee, Charlie. Take it easy.

  “Need some help there?” Troy asks, clearly amused.

  Finally, I manage to unlock the door. “No. I got it.”

  I let Troy walk in first, and then I close the door behind me. My idea is to head to the kitchen to grab a drink, but he turns around fast and pins me against the wall, covering my body with his. His lips find mine, branding me with an urgent kiss. I melt against him, drowning in his scent, his presence. I clutch his arms, pulling him closer to me, needing to feel every inch of his frame pressed against mine. I’ve never felt this need, this ice-cold fever for anyone before. It gives me chills and burns me up at the same time.

  When I think he’s going to take things further, he stops, stepping back and leaving me feeling bereft.

  “What?” I ask, a little dazed.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. I’ve been dying to kiss you like that all night long.”

  “Why did you stop?” I pout.

  He shakes his head. “Because I haven’t crossed the point of no return yet. Why? Do you want me to continue, babe? Are you waving your white flag?” he says with a smirk.

  “No.” I walk around him—almost running really—to the kitchen. I need something cold to soothe the ache in my loins.

  Loins? Oh God. Who am I? Amy Farrah Fowler?

  I don’t want to drink more alcohol because I think I’ve had plenty. If I’m to survive the rest of the evening without succumbing to Troy’s charm, I have to be clearheaded. The only thing I see in the fridge is a can of Coke and Troy’s sparkling water. If I drink soda now, I won’t be able to sleep, so water it is. I press the cool bottle against my forehead.

  “Poor babe. Are you hurting that bad?” He chuckles.

  I whirl around, mortified to be caught in the act. “Shut up. I bet you need an ice pack to place over your groin.”

  His eyes take on a dangerous glint as they narrow. “Woman, do not remind me of the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.”

  “If it’s that bad, why don’t you use your hand?” I quirk an eyebrow.

  He points at me. “You’d better stop that right now. I’m onto you, Charlie Alice Fontaine.”

  “Wait. How do you know my middle name? I never told you.”

  “I have a copy of your rent contract and ID.” He gives me a toothy, victorious grin.

  “Fine, Wolfie. I’ll stop.”

  “If I could hate Grandma for telling you that odious nickname, I would.”

  “Well, I’d better go to be—”

  “Oh no. You’re not going to sleep yet. Our date is not over.” />
  I put a hand on my hip. “Is that so? What else do you have planned?”

  “If you’ll follow me to the living room, I’ve prepared an evening of excellent entertainment.”

  “Oh, are we doing a Lord of the Rings marathon?”

  “No. We can do that when you invite me on a date.”

  I tilt my head with a pitying frown. “Aww, and you were doing so well.”

  I sit down on the couch, pulling the blanket to me so I can create a barrier against Troy. It’s a pathetic effort, but valid. “What are we watching?”

  “One of my favorite TV shows of all times. You’re probably a fan, actually.”

  “Oh? What is it?”

  “Supernatural.”

  “What? Are you crazy? I’m not watching that.”

  Troy’s expression falls. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s fucking scary. I told you I don’t do horror.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Do you think this is the face of someone who’s joking?” I draw a circle in the air to emphasize my point.

  “Charlie, Supernatural is not a horror series. Where did you get that idea?”

  “From watching the first episode. I was freaked out.”

  “Okay, fine. I concede that the first season is a little spooky, but it gets better after that. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  “I don’t know.” I nibble on my lower lip.

  Everyone I know has been bugging me to watch the damn series for years. Maybe I should try again. Besides, if it gets too scary, I can always jump in Troy’s arms and hide my face against his chest. Maybe that’s what he’s banking on. But I can’t refuse him when he’s giving me those puppy eyes.

  “Fine. But if I have nightmares, it’s on you.”

  “If you have nightmares, you’re more than welcome to sleep with me.” He laughs.

  “Oh, I bet that’s exactly what you want.”

  “Charlie, you really have the worst ideas about me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Put it on already before I change my mind.”

  He chuckles. “That’s what she said.”

  “I said put it on, not in.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  28

  TROY

  I can’t believe how close I came to screwing up the evening. Why did I think watching Supernatural would be a good idea? Even if Charlie wasn’t scared, there’s the little issue that the TV show features two attractive dudes.

  We’re about to start episode five, and the wine is finally catching up with me. My eyelids are getting heavy, but Charlie doesn’t seem tired in the least. She’s tense, however, clutching the blanket in a tight grip.

  “Charlie?”

  “Yeah?” She turns to me.

  “You know, it’s okay if you want to scooch closer.”

  She hesitates, not moving for a couple beats, and I’m sure she’s going to say no. To my surprise, she does shorten the distance between us, and when I throw my arm over her shoulders, she leans against my chest and lets me cradle her.

  Unable to resist, I run lazy circles over her exposed skin with the tips of my fingers. She doesn’t stop me; if anything, she gets nearer, making my blood pump faster. I don’t want to make a move too soon, so I force my attention to the screen. The first two minutes of the episodes are always intense and scary, and this one is no different. Sam and Dean are facing Bloody Mary.

  Charlie is rigid against me, and when the scary part comes, she hides her face against my chest, making me laugh.

  “Stop laughing. I hate horror shit.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re too funny.”

  She eases out of my embrace, lifting her chin to glare at me. “I’m not too funny.”

  Her eyebrows are furrowed into a scowl, and her plump lips are set in a severe line. Right now, she’s not funny at all. She’s a sexy, pissed-off vixen.

  “You’re right. You’re not funny.” My voice comes out strained. “You’re Venus personified.”

  I kiss her before she looks away, pulling her flush against my body once more. Her lips taste like chocolate, a trace of the lava cake she had for dessert. It awakens the hunger in me that was already hovering just below the surface. I try to move us to a horizontal position, but my right arm is trapped by the sling.

  I pull back. “This thing has got to go.”

  Quickly, I release the clasp behind my neck, freeing my arm so I can better appreciate Charlie.

  “Are you sure you should be doing this?” she asks.

  “I’m okay.” I push her back on the couch and then yank the blanket from her grasp.

  Her dark hair fans around her lovely face. Her lips are partly open, her cheeks are flushed, and her blue eyes are laced with desire. Fuck. I’m going to lose this bet in an epic fashion, and I don’t care. All my blood has converged in my cock, leaving my brain at its mercy.

  “Do you have something to say, Troy?” she asks in a dangerous, husky tone.

  Her velvety voice is like a caress, a prelude of what’s to come. She knows she has me exactly where she wants me.

  “I do. I—”

  The shrill ringtone of her phone interrupts my speech of defeat. I expect her to ignore it, but her hazy eyes become lucid in a flash. She jerks to a sitting position and then jumps off the couch to get to her purse on the kitchen counter.

  “Hello?” she answers.

  I watch her, keenly aware of the sudden tension in her body. Her eyebrows furrow as she listens.

  “Slow down, Ben,” she says.

  I get off the couch too, any trace of my erection gone. I don’t need to hear what her brother is saying to know things aren’t okay.

  “Okay, I’m coming,” she replies before she ends the call, promptly shoving her phone back in her purse. “I have to go to Littleton,” she tells me.

  “What happened?”

  “My parents had a huge fight. Ben said my father packed an overnight bag and left. Mom is locked in her room, crying. Ben is freaking out.”

  I don’t know much about people with Down syndrome, but my guess is they’re more sensitive than most. Even if that wasn’t the case, he’s only a teenager. He shouldn’t be alone to deal with his parents’ marriage problems. I was young when my parents divorced, but I remember their fights as if they happened yesterday.

  When Charlie reaches for her car keys, I say, “You can’t drive.”

  “You don’t understand. I have to go now.”

  I touch her arm, needing to show my support through actions. “I do understand, but doing something reckless won’t help anyone. It’s a long drive to Littleton, and we’ve been drinking. Let’s call an Uber.”

  She looks into my eyes for a moment, torn, but finally she relents. “Okay.”

  I order a ride. “I’m coming with you.”

  Her eyes become rounder, surprise shining in them, but then her expression turns into relief. “Thank you. I can’t believe this. My parents should know better than to fight when Ben is around. He can’t handle shouting and arguments. It really gets to him.”

  “Can he call someone to stay with him until we get there?”

  “The only person he could call is his girlfriend, but it’s late, and she’s like him. I’m not sure if she would be much help.”

  I don’t understand Charlie’s remark about her brother’s girlfriend, but it’s unimportant right now.

  “Okay. How about we call him back when we’re on our way? We can keep him on the phone; it might help with his anxiety.”

  “Good idea.”

  The Uber driver won’t arrive for ten minutes, and while we wait, Charlie almost digs a hole in the floor with the way she’s pacing. Nothing I could tell her would make her feel better, so I just let her be.

  In all honesty, if it weren’t for my busted shoulder, I could probably drive. I didn’t drink as much, and I’m as sober as a rock now. But after the speech I gave her, it would be hypocritical to suggest I get behind the wheel.

  Ch
arlie calls her brother again as soon as we slide in the back seat of our ride. Judging by the conversation, I get the gist that Ben is somewhat calmer. I don’t know what his mother is doing though.

  The ride to Littleton seems to take longer than an hour even though there isn’t much traffic at this time of night. When the driver stops in front of her parents’ house, she almost jumps out and runs to the front door.

  I follow her, feeling a little bit awkward for being here. I’m a stranger to them, and I’m about to witness some major family drama. Charlie makes a beeline for what I guess is Ben’s room. I’m correct, so I hang back by the door, not wanting to intrude. The teen is on his bed, clutching a pillow. His tear-streaked face and red eyes tell me he’s been crying a lot.

  Shit. This is bad.

  I hover by the door while Charlie sits on the edge of his bed and engulfs him in a bear hug.

  “What happened, Ben?” she asks.

  “I don’t know. I was playing a video game with my headset on when their shouting made it through. I didn’t want to hear them, but it was impossible.”

  “I’m so sorry. Is Mom still in her room?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’m gonna talk to her.”

  “Okay.”

  On her way out, she stops next to me and whispers, “Do you mind keeping him company?”

  “Not at all.”

  She squeezes my arm and then heads down the corridor.

  I finally dare to walk into Ben’s room, unsure about what to say or do.

  “What game were you playing before?” I ask, feeling stupid the moment the question comes out of my mouth.

  “The Witcher.”

  “Oh, cool. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Yeah, mine too.”

  I glance around his room, noticing Ben shares Charlie’s enthusiasm for fantasy realms, board games, and comics.

  “Charlie tells me you also participate in LARP. She’s convinced me to come next time.”

  Ben’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s cool. What character are you going to play?”

  “A troll.”

  A smile appears on his flushed face. “That’s awesome. I’m a troll hunter. You’re going to need a costume.”