Dirty Swedish Player: A Big Stick Novel

by R. C. Stephens

  She looks from side to side. “Who? Me and you?”

  I cover my mouth with my hand. “Yeah, well I am your fake boyfriend, and your older stepbrother,” I say as a joke. I’m really beginning to hate using the excuse that I am paying her to be with me.

  She punches me in the arm. “Hush, you aren’t my stepbrother.”

  “Right. My mom fucked your dad over and now they’re separated.”

  Her brows bunch together. “Your mom didn’t mess my dad over. They weren’t getting along. They fought a lot. They wanted different things from life, so they separated,” she says, surprising the shit out of me. I’d assumed Mom was just being a gold-digger.

  “And how do you know this?” I ask, unable to hide the surprise from my tone.

  “My dad. Called to tell me they were breaking up. We had a long talk. We’ve been talking a little more lately. He’s gone to therapy, and is trying to get his dominating tendencies under control.”

  “That’s nice. I’m happy for you,” I say, and I mean it. I don’t talk with either of my parents. It fucking sucks.

  “Yeah, it’s been okay. You should talk to your mom. She really misses you,” she says.

  I swipe a hand over my mouth, processing her words. She clearly holds nothing back when under the influence.

  “Dare I ask how you know?”

  Her lips quirk on one side and she gives me a knowing look. “Your mom calls me all the time, silly.”

  I have to hide my smile at her use of the term of endearment, although knowing she’s in touch with my mom stings. After everything got messed up with Sierra, her dad and my mom came down on me hard. They just wanted to blame me for shit and tell me what a loser I was. Mom told me I was a cruel loser like Dad, and that was the end of it. I walked away and haven’t looked back since.

  “Enough talk about our parents. Do you want to dance with me or not?” I extend my hand.

  She looks at it skeptically, and then takes another long pull of her drink. She places her glass on the bar and takes my hand.

  “Let’s dance, boyfriend.” She doesn’t say fake boyfriend, and to me, that sounds like a win. Wait! I sure as hell don’t need a real relationship. It would be too demanding with my schedule, and besides, I like variety. I clear my thoughts. Being around her is confusing.

  We hold hands as we walk to the dance floor. The music is a fast beat. When we get to the center of the floor, she drops my hand and begins to move. Her hands move up and down and she gets into the groove, swaying her hips. She’s so sexy and she doesn’t even know it. This sweet energy pours off her in spades as we move together. My hips sway and my arm wraps around her waist drawing her closer to me. After hitting the clubs on the regular, I’m more than smooth on a dance floor. I remind myself it’s a family event, so I keep it PG, but I lace my fingers with hers and move our bodies closer.

  Her breath catches. “What are you doing?” she asks, smiling wide.

  “Dancing with you, beautiful,” I say.

  Her cheeks flush.

  “What? Too much?” I ask with an innocent tone. I don’t know what I am doing but I like being with her, and I don’t want to dig into what that means.

  For almost two songs we move to our own rhythm and then the band moves to a slow song.

  I cock my brow and extend my hand. “You in?”

  Her lips press together.

  “Don’t leave me hanging,” I say.

  “Okay,” she relents, rolling her eyes playfully.

  I exhale sharply and bring her in close to me. My nose presses into her hair. Fresh flowers. My hand rests respectfully at her hip and we move quietly, in sync.

  The song ends and she pulls away. “Wait,” I say.

  She waits, but I wait, too. I’m not sure what I wanted to say other than “don’t stop dancing with me,” which would sound crazy.

  “I need a drink,” she says.

  “I’ll come with you,” I offer.

  “Okay.” She shrugs. I get the vibe she is wary of me right now.

  She walks up to the bar. “I’ll have another one of those drinks,” she says to the bartender, and he seems to know what she’s talking about. He smiles like he thinks she’s adorable. Apparently, he isn’t immune to her charm.

  He passes her a drink and then looks to me. “Just tonic and ice please,” I say.

  “Really?” she asks.

  “No drinking for me. I’m cleaning up my act,” I explain.

  She nods and sips her drink. “I need to sit. My feet are killing me.” She lifts her dress high enough for me to see her heels.

  “Lead the way.” I take my drink and follow her to the table.

  We reach the table, and she lifts her dress above her knees, giving me a nice view of her long, fit legs.

  “Geez.” She leans forward and begins to remove her heels. She opens her purse and takes out a pair of flip-flops.

  “Ah. Always prepared, are you?” I ask.

  “Not always.” She frowns.

  Shit.

  We’re the only ones sitting at the table. Dave is drinking with the guys—which is a rarity—and Kelsey is chasing their kids.

  “Sierra. Look . . .” I begin and take a breath. She’s drunk. That’s a good thing. Maybe it’s easier to confess to a drunk person. No. No. No. I wish it were me who were drunk for this confession. But in this moment, it doesn’t matter. I need her to know how I really felt about her.

  “What is it?” She continues to sip her drink. She sways forward, getting close to me.

  “Back in Minnesota. The night I messed everything up . . . I want you to know I didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t want to hurt you. It wasn’t my intention to make you run,” I say, and rake fingers through my hair. This apology is harder than I’d thought it would be.

  She watches me intently. “What do you mean? You screwed me over in front of everyone.”

  She’s apparently not drunk enough. I pinch the area between my eyes. “See, here’s the funny thing. That night, when it all went down, I felt the need to protect myself.”

  Her eyes narrow on me, and she gives me a look like she thinks I’m crazy.

  I hold up a hand. “Before you say anything, hear me out.”

  She nods. “Okay. You have my attention.”

  “When we kissed . . . even though it was in front of everyone and it wasn’t meant to be personal but something. . . happened to me. Like inside me. . .” I struggle to find the right words. “I felt something I never felt before. I knew it was because of the kiss. Trust me. . . I’d kissed dozens of girls before you but none of them felt the way you did,” I grit my jaw anticipating what she may say. How she may react to my words.

  She looks like she’s trying to focus on me and having a hard time. “What are you saying, Nils? I was your fake girlfriend. There were no feelings involved.” She says so innocently, even though her speech is slurred.

  I begin to question if this was really the right time to have this conversation. Truth is, there would have never been a good time for me. I don’t like feeling vulnerable and that’s exactly what I feel right now.

  I grit my teeth. “We set out to have a fake relationship, but all that time studying with you, going out for pizza together, hanging out in your dorm room and the library. . . I may have developed feelings for you. When I kissed you that night, I liked you.” I look her in the eyes trying to gage what she’s thinking.

  Her chin tilts down, and her mouth hangs slightly open. It’s weird that I’d prefer to kiss her right now than continue having this weird, confession, but I fear she would slap me if I did. Will she remember any of this? I want her to remember.

  “Y-you liked me?” she asks, sounding flabbergasted.

  “I did.” I clench my jaw even tighter. Damn it. Why is this so hard? My right leg bounces beneath the table as I wait for her to say something.

  Silence blankets us but I watch the gears grinding in her drunken head. “Holy fuck balls,” she shouts, and then slaps a ha
nd over her mouth. As nervous as I feel inside, her reaction causes me to smile.

  “I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings. They scared the shit out of me. Anyone I’ve cared for left me or treated me badly. Then there was you and I don’t know. . . we understood each other and then that kiss felt like some kind of warning like I was in too deep. I got freaked, drank too much alcohol and acted like a big jerk. It’s not an excuse,” I snicker. “Trust me, I know I have a problem dealing with my emotions. That’s why I stopped drinking now. I can’t let fear and anger control me anymore,” I admit feeling sweat pop across my forehead and behind my neck. I’ve never worked this hard to explain myself in my life.

  “Mother of all things holy. I never thought someone like you would like someone like me . . . I mean, I . . .”

  “Don’t stop. Say what you were going to say. If I can do this sober, you should be able to do this drunk.” I hope my words are encouraging.

  “I liked you, Nils, but I knew I didn’t have a chance. I wasn’t after a hook-up. I couldn’t be like one of those girls at that frat party,” she says.

  “I got too drunk and didn’t think of the consequences. I never seem to think of how what I do will affect someone else,” I admit unable to look at her.

  “If you think I’m not going to remember this tomorrow, you’re wrong.” She smiles slyly.

  I lift my gaze and laugh. “I’m hoping you remember. Seriously,” I say.

  “I can’t believe you wanted me. You aren’t playing me now, are you?” Her brows furrow and she leans a little too close to my face, like she is trying to gauge my sincerity.

  I chuckle. This woman. I shake my head. “No, Sierra. I’m serious about having feelings for you back then.” I was never a shy guy, but this is a stretch even for me. I’m out of my element. All my old feelings have come rushing back but I am too much of a coward to admit how I feel today. Confessing the past is easier. “I kept my feelings hidden all those years ago because our parents were married, and it would have been fucking weird.”

  She palms her cheeks with each of her hands.

  “Um . . . wow,” she mutters. She stands from the table and sways.

  “Easy there.” I grab hold of her arm to steady her. Don’t tell me I’m making her run again.

  “I need to go to the ladies’ room,” she says.

  “Okay.” I release her. “Should I walk you?”

  Her lips press together. “Um . . . no . . . I’m good.”

  “See you soon?” I say.

  “Yup.” She stumbles off. She looks like she’s trying to walk straight but failing miserably.

  I rake my hands through my hair and lean back in my chair. I could use a stiff drink right now.

  Myles takes a seat beside me. “What did you do, Nils? It looks like you’re sweating.”

  “I don’t know what the hell I did, but I think I just got myself in deep,” I say.

  Myles laughs.

  Fourteen

  Sierra

  The bathroom door closes behind me. I’m the only one in here.

  “Holy shit. What did I just get myself into?” I mutter to myself.

  “What do you mean?” a woman asks.

  My hands fly in the air and my heart jumps almost out of my chest. My eyes grow wide. I walk past a dividing wall into the sink area.

  Mata. Of course.

  I should’ve probably made sure there was no one in here before speaking to myself out loud. This must be another drunken mistake to add to my list.

  “Did I just say that out loud?” I think I’m slurring.

  “Yes. You’re very drunk,” she says.

  I hiccup and laugh, then grab the counter for support. “I can’t believe he liked me back in college,” I say, looking in the mirror. My eyes have a red tinge and my cheeks are flushed, but for the most part I think I look okay.

  “Who dear?” Mata asks.

  “Does alcohol make you hallucinate?” I ask.

  “No, but magic mushrooms do. Do you want me to hook you up?”

  “OMG! Are you a drug dealer, too?” I take a step back from her.

  She laughs. “No, it was a joke.” She rolls her eyes like I should have known this. “I only smoke weed; it’s good for the soul. Now, tell me what’s bothering you,” she insists. With her wild hair and long sari, she stands and watches me expectantly.

  I don’t answer. I may be drunk but something in the back of my mind says telling her my secrets is a bad idea.

  She pulls a joint from her purse. “I was just going to smoke this doobie, so if it’s going to take a while, I should go outside. I don’t want to get in trouble by lighting up in here,” she says.

  I laugh. She gives me a puzzled look.

  “Oh! You were serious?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really have to pee,” I point to one of the bathroom stalls and make a mad dash, thankful I’m wearing flip flops.

  Hopefully if I stay in here long enough, she will get bored and disappear.

  I lift the long dress up to my hips and relieve myself with a long sigh.

  I get out and wash my hands.

  Mata is gone. Phew!

  My whole body feels kind of numb. This is freaking crazy. I don’t even know what to think.

  I pull the bathroom door open and it smacks against the wall. I adjust my dress and head toward the party, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I see Nils standing in front of me. Geez, he looks yummy in that tux with his hands tucked into the front pockets. His blue eyes dance as he takes me in, like he knows some funny secret he isn’t going to share.

  He takes a step toward me. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.

  “I just saw Mata walk out of the bathroom. She told me you were wasted and pliant,” he says, and his lips quirk up on one side.

  My eyes narrow on his mouth. “What did you say?”

  “Never mind.” He waves me off.

  “Nils, I want to know. Tell me now,” I insist.

  “She said you were pliant. Like, ready for sex.” He shakes his head.

  My hand comes up to smack my mouth. “I didn’t say anything to her.”

  He laughs. “Don’t worry. Taking advantage of drunk girls isn’t my thing.”

  “Oh, come on. I saw that video. Those girls could not have been sober,” I say.

  His blue eyes widen. I don’t have a filter and probably should.

  “I’m sorry.” I pinch my lips together.

  He waves me off. “I was more drunk than they were. They took advantage of the situation, knowing who I was. I’ve never taken advantage of a woman and never will. Tonight, I plan on getting you home safely and that’s all,” he assures me.

  I don’t know if I like the fact that he doesn’t want to take advantage of me. He said he had feelings for me in the past. That doesn’t mean they still exist today. I imagine his full lips on mine, his tongue sliding along the seam of my. . .

  Nils is waving his hand in my face.

  “You’re staring at my lips,” he says.

  “Shit. I . . .”

  He bursts into laughter. “You’re freaking adorable.” He places his arm over my shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you some water.”

  “I don’t want water. I’m enjoying this . . . buzz.”

  “I’m sure you are.” He rolls his eyes at me and then I pull him back onto the dance floor.

  My mouth is dry and my head pounds . . . I roll over to my side and feel a hard body.

  What?

  I sit up quickly. “Holy shit! What are you doing in my bed?” I screech.

  Nils shifts.

  I check to see if I’m wearing clothes. I’m wearing one of my pajama shirts and a pair of polka-dot pajama pants. Phew!

  “I . . . uh . . . are you okay?” he asks. I notice he’s wearing a T-shirt. So he isn’t naked either.

  “OMG! Did we have sex?” I blurt. My pounding head causes me to cringe. �
��Ow.” I press my pointer and middle fingers to my temples and rub.

  “No, we didn’t have sex. You were completely wasted. I drove you home but then you got sick on the sidewalk beside the entrance to your building. I didn’t want to leave you alone. You didn’t seem all that experienced with drinking, or after-care, for that matter,” he says.

  “And we didn’t have sex,” I confirm.

  He rolls his eyes like he’s annoyed with me. “I didn’t want you choking on your own vomit. There was nothing sexy about what happened last night.”

  He stands from the bed. I think I’ve offended him. I take the moment to check his backside in those boxers he’s wearing. Damn, he has a fine ass.

  “You’re leaving?” I don’t mean to sound sad, but it just comes out that way.

  He turns to look at me from the threshold to my door. “No, I’m going to get you water and Advil. Trust me, you’ll need it,” he says, and he walks out of my room.

  I fall back on my pillow, nauseated. My stomach is turning, and my head is pounding. It’s a horrible combination I never want to feel again.

  Nils returns a few minutes later. “Here. You woke your roommate. She showed me where the medicine was. I also made you some toast. You barely touched your dinner last night,” he says with a chiding tone.

  I think back to the wedding. It’s a bit of a blur.

  Nils shakes his head at me. He passes me the water.

  “Drink,” he commands. “Stop. Take this.” He passes me a pill. I place it in my mouth and drink more water. When I’ve polished off the tall glass he’s brought me, he says, “Now eat the toast.”

  “You’re really demanding,” I say.

  “Stop complaining. I’m trying to help you.” He takes a seat at the edge of my bed. His head hangs between his shoulders.

  I bite into the toast and OMG it’s the best toast I’ve ever eaten and that’s when I realize how hungry I truly am.

  He takes the empty glass of water and leaves the room again. I don’t know why he’s being nice, but he is, and I can’t say that I hate it.