There hadn’t been a damn crumb on her lip. I was a liar. But I wanted to touch her.
“Got it.” I smiled.
She looked flustered. Not upset, but unnerved. I tried to feel some level of guilt for touching her but couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what that said about me.
But then Professor Drage finally entered the front of the classroom. Drage was an odd fella. The green polyester suit was a staple. When I took this class the first time around, he used to mix up his wardrobe with an orange one. The checkered Vans and bow tie hadn’t changed in years.
I shifted in the seat, glancing over at Shortcake. The look on her face was priceless. I chuckled. “Professor Drage is a very . . . unique man.”
“I can see,” she murmured.
Professor Drage launched into a lecture. I wasn’t sure what it was about. Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. Most of this stuff I already knew and hearing the shit again reminded me of my freshman year, something I didn’t like to dwell on.
One night had completely fucked up the path of my life.
Pushing that out of my head, I started sketching. Before I knew it, I’d drawn Big Foot and class was coming to an end in typical Drage fashion.
He started passing out star maps. “I know today is only Wednesday, but here is your first assignment for the weekend. Skies are supposed to be clear as a baby’s bottom on Saturday.”
“Clear as a baby’s bottom?” Avery muttered.
I chuckled.
“I want you to find the Corona Borealis in the sky—the actual, real, honest-to-goodness night sky,” Professor Drage explained. “You won’t need a telescope. Use your eyes or glasses or contacts or whatever. You can view it either Friday or Saturday night, but the weather is looking sketchy on Friday, so choose wisely.”
“Wait,” someone from up front said. “How do you use this map?”
I handed Shortcake a map and the grid sheets.
Professor Drage stopped and pinned the kid with a look that asked are you stupid. “You look at it.”
The student huffed. “I get that, but do we hold it up to the sky or something?”
“Sure. You could do that. Or you could just look at each of the constellations, see what they look like and then use your own eyes and brains to find it in the sky.” Drage paused. “Or use Google. I want all of you to start to get familiar with stargazing . . .” I faded out during half of what he was saying, coming back in toward the end. “So get with your partner and pick out a time. The grid will be turned back in to me on Monday. That’s all for the day. Good luck and may the force of the universe be with you today.”
“Partner?” Avery frantically looked around the classroom. “When did we pick partners?”
“On Monday,” I explained, shoving the notebook into my backpack. “You weren’t here.”
Shortcake looked like she was about to pass out as she leaned forward in her seat. “Avery?”
She took several deep breaths, like she was staving off a panic attack.
I arched a brow. “Avery.”
Her gaze darted to the door Drage had disappeared through. Her knuckles were bleached white from how tight she was holding her notebook.
“Avery.”
“What?” she snapped, whipping her gaze on me.
“We’re partners.”
A deep crevice formed between her brows. “Huh?”
“We. Are. Partners.” I sighed. “Apparently, Drage had the class pick their partners right at the beginning of class on Monday. I walked in afterward and at the end he told me to partner with anyone who joined the class on Wednesday or I’d be partner-less. And since I don’t like the idea of being partner-less, you and I are partners.”
She stared at me like I had just spoken Latin. “We have a choice to do this on our own?”
“Yeah, but who wants to go out staring at the sky at night by themselves?” Standing, I hefted my bag over my shoulder and started down the row. “Anyway, I know a perfect place we can do our assignment. Has to be Saturday, because I have plans Friday.”
Sucking, annoying as fuck plans on Friday.
“Wait.” She rushed after me. “I do.”
“You have plans on Saturday?” Hold up. What could she be doing on a Saturday night? I couldn’t skip out on Friday, but . . . “Well, I might—”
“No. I don’t have plans on Saturday, but we don’t have to be partners. I can do this by myself.”
I stopped in front of the doors, unsure if I had heard her right. “Why would you want to do all the assignments—and if you look at his class outline, there are a lot—all by yourself?”
She took a step back. “Well, I don’t really want to, but you don’t have to be my partner. I mean, you don’t owe me or anything.”
“I don’t get what you’re saying.” I honestly, seriously, a hundred percent, did not get what she was saying.
“What I’m saying is that . . .” She stopped, brows knitting into the deep V again. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
My mouth formed around the words “what the fuck.” “Is that a serious question?”
Shortcake ducked her gaze. “Yes.”
I stared at her and waited for her to say she was joking, but she didn’t. A knot formed in my chest, coming out of nowhere. Suddenly it was painfully obvious to me, and I mean painfully. Shortcake wasn’t just awkward, she was obviously on the friendless side of things, and I don’t know why that affected me. It shouldn’t have. I barely knew the girl and guiding her into conversation was as easy as disarming a bomb with your teeth, but it did bother me.
Underdog syndrome strikes again.
I took a deep breath. “All right, I guess I’m just a nice guy. And you’re obviously new—a freshman. You seemed to be a little out of it on Monday and then you ran off, wouldn’t even come into class and I—”
“I don’t want your pity.” She sucked in a shrill sound.
I scowled at the insinuation. “You don’t have my pity, Avery. I’m just saying you seemed out of it on Monday and I figured we’d just be partners.”
Doubt crossed her features.
“I can see that you don’t believe me. Maybe it was the cookie? Well, you refused to taste my cookies last night and honestly, I was going to eat the other cookie, but you looked so tired and sad sitting there, I figured you needed the cookie more than I did.”
Which might have been a lie. There was a good chance that I had brought two cookies because Shortcake might make an appearance. Then again, I may be reading too much into it.
She was watching me like I was a puzzle, and honestly, I wasn’t that complicated.
“And you’re pretty,” I added.
She blinked “What?”
Trying and failing to hide my amusement, I turned and opened the door, guiding her into the hallway. “Do not tell me you don’t know you’re pretty. If so, I’m about to lose all faith in mankind. You don’t want to be responsible for that.”
“I know I’m pretty—I mean, that’s not what I meant.” She paused, groaning. “I don’t think I’m ugly. That’s what—”
“Good. Now we’ve cleared that up.” I tugged on her bag, guiding her to the stairs. “Watch the door. It can be tricky.”
“What does the whole pretty comment have to do with anything?”
“You asked why I’m so nice to you. It’s mutually beneficial.”
Shortcake came to a complete stop behind me. “You’re nice to me because you think I’m pretty?”
“And because you have brown eyes. I’m a sucker for big old brown eyes.” I laughed. “I’m a shallow, shallow boy. Hey, it helps that you’re pretty. It brings out the nice guy in me. Makes me want to share my cookies with you.”
“So if I was ugly, you wouldn’t be nice to me?”
Spinning around, I faced her. “I’
d still be nice to you if you were ugly.”
“Okay.”
I grinned as I tipped my chin down, bringing our mouths close. “I just wouldn’t offer you any cookies.”
She folded her arms. “I’m beginning to think ‘cookie’ is a code word for something else.”
“Maybe it is.” I tugged on her bag again as I went down a step. “And just think about it. If ‘cookie’ is a code word, whatever it symbolizes, it’s been in your mouth, sweetheart.”
For a moment, she stared at me and then she laughed. The sound was untried and hoarse, as if she didn’t laugh often, and that caused that weird knot in my chest to throb. “You are really . . .”
“Amazing? Awesome?” I wanted to hear her laugh again. “Astonishing?”
“I was going to go with bizarre.”
“Well, hell, if I had feelings that might actually hurt.”
She grinned, and that meant we were close to a smile again. “I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t have feelings then, huh?”
“Guess so.” I hopped onto the landing. “You better hurry or you’re going to be late to your next class.”
Her eyes widened, and I laughed, stepping out the way so Shortcake didn’t run me over as she darted down the steps. “Damn, if only you moved that fast for my cookies, I’d be a happy guy.”
“Shut up!”
“Hey!” I came around to the top of the next flight of stairs. “Don’t you want to know what ‘cookies’ is a code word for?”
“No! Good God, no!”
I tipped back my head and laughed as the last strands of coppery hair disappeared from sight. I didn’t know what it was about Avery Morgansten, but she was better than the quiet girl in middle school who turned out to like girls.
A lot better.
Four
There were moments in my life where I had no idea how I got where I was. Like what exactly had occurred to create the situation I was in?
Steph, wearing another skirt that barely covered her ass, slid a hand down my arm. She said something, whispered in my ear, but I really wasn’t paying attention.
My gaze drifted from the TV to the hair band lying on my coffee table.
Oh, that’s how this all got started.
A text from Steph claiming that she’d left something “super important” at my apartment from the night of the party. A rubber band. If I only had known that was what she was looking for, I would’ve walked my ass to the Rite Aid and bought her a whole package of them.
“Want me to get you a beer from the fridge?” she asked.
She really was the perfect woman. “No. I’m good.”
I could feel her eyes on me as I lifted the glass of water and took a drink. Beer. Me. Steph. No one else in the apartment. Not a good combination. Or maybe a good one depending on how you looked at it.
Cuddling up against my side, her full breasts pressed against my arm.
I so needed to look at this as a good thing instead of wondering how a couch that I could stretch out on suddenly felt too small.
“So, are you turning over a new leaf or something?” she asked, gaze fixed on the TV as she ran the tips of her nails up and down my arm. I was watching a boxing rerun and I doubted she was that interested. “Are you no longer drinking?”
I laughed under my breath. “Nah. Just not feeling it tonight.”
“Oh.” Steph’s hand moved from my forearm to the center of my chest. “What are you feeling tonight?”
Loaded question, so I said nothing as a glove-covered fist slammed into a jaw. Steph perceived my silence the way she wanted, sliding her hand down the bare skin of my abs. Blood followed the tips of her fingers as they drifted below my navel, reaching the band on my shorts.
My body was into what was about to happen, thickening and swelling, straining up to meet her wandering fingers. And my body knew her fingers well, remembered exactly how skilled she was. But my head wasn’t even in the same ballpark as my cock.
Tipping my head back against the couch, I exhaled slowly. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with what was happening. Her quick fingers skimmed over my limp hand, smoothing along my hip. The muscles jumped in response. So did something else.
I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply. My heart wasn’t pounding. I was thinking about the meeting I’d have to attend Friday night. And I was thinking about Saturday night and stars when her hand curled around my cock, gripping me through the nylon shorts. A pulse shot straight up my spine as she moved her hand up.
Pleasure swirled low in my gut, and I knew if I let her continue, I would enjoy it. Already, it felt damn good. Always did, but I wouldn’t return the act. Weeks ago, I would’ve, out of pure principal. Give. Take. But now I didn’t care enough to do it and that wasn’t right.
“Hey,” I said, voice gruff as I gently grabbed her arm, pulling her hand away.
Her perfect lips formed a perfect O. “What?”
“I’m not feeling this.” I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her palm before placing it back on her thigh. My cock was already soft. “Okay?”
Surprise shuttled across her face, and a part of me was reeling in shock. Had I really just turned her down? I had.
Pink mottled her tan cheeks as she turned her gaze to the TV, and I, well, I felt like a dick. Shit. Sitting forward, I dropped my hands on my knees. “You want anything to eat?”
Mute, she shook her head no.
Double shit. “Look, Steph, it’s not you, and I’m being serious about that. I’m just feeling weird tonight. All right?”
Steph glanced at me and slowly nodded. “Okay.”
I let go of my breath in relief. Like I said before, Steph was a good girl and we had history. Things were just different now. She stayed for a little while longer and then she was ready to go. I got up to walk her out. At the door, she turned and stretched up, kissing my cheek.
I laughed. “What was that for?”
Steph shrugged as I closed the door behind us. “Are you going to the frat party?” she asked.
“Got plans,” I told her.
She pouted prettily. “Can’t you skip it Friday night?”
Reaching over, I tugged on a strand of soft, black hair. “You know I can’t, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”
“You suck.” But she smiled as she hip bumped me.
“That I do.”
We headed toward her car and when she caught her heel on a patch of loose gravel, I caught her arm, steadying her. “You haven’t been drinking tonight?” I asked, eyes narrowing. “Right?”
Moonlight sliced over her face as she tipped her head back and let out a throaty laugh. “No.” She smacked my chest. “And what if I did? Are you going to let me spend the night?”
“I’d put your little ass in my truck and drive you back to your dorm.”
Her eyes rolled. “That sounds like a lot of fun.”
We stopped behind her sedan and I pulled her in for a quick hug. “Text me when you get back to your dorm.”
She laughed again, pulling back. “Seriously?”
I shot her a look. “You know I’m serious. It’s late. A lot of people fucking suck in the world, so text me.”
“And if I don’t?”
My eyes narrowed. “You will.”
“Okay. I will.” Steph laughed as she backed toward the driver’s door. “See you later, Cam.”
Stepping back, I watched her pull out of the parking spot before I turned and headed back. Halfway across the parking lot, I looked up toward Shortcake’s apartment. There were no lights on, and I bet she was already tucked away in her bed. Did she wear long-sleeve shirts to bed? Or did she sleep naked?
An image of her naked, her coppery hair spread out around her like a halo, invaded my head.
My cock swelled to life once again.
“Dammit,?
?? I muttered.
It was going to be a long night.
Thursday morning was IHOP morning, or at least that was what Ollie had deemed it when he rolled out of bed and busted up into my room. Snatching my cap off the arm of the couch, I saw Steph’s rubber band on the coffee table and rolled my eyes.
Super important.
Ollie was already outside and I as approached the door, I caught the scent of rain in the air. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I realized he wasn’t alone.
“Avery,” Ollie said. “Cam told me your name.”
Mental note to self: punt kick Ollie in the balls later.
There was a pause and then, “Oh. So . . . um, you’re heading to—”
“Yo douchebag, you left the door open!” I smacked the cap on, rounding the stairs. Below, I got an eyeful of how Avery’s blue jeans hugged her ass. Nice. “Hey, what are you doing with my girl?”
Ollie grinned up at me, but my attention was trained on Shortcake. The girl had to be wearing little or no makeup, because her face was . . . fresh. Natural. I liked it. Her gaze met mine and then flickered away.
“I was explaining to her how I go by two names,” Ollie said.
“Oh yeah?” I caught up with them, dropping my arm over her shoulders. Her feet tripped up, and I tightened my arm, tucking her against my side. In the back of my head, I thought she fit perfectly. “Whoa, sweetheart, almost lost you there.”
“Look at you.” Ollie hopped down the stairs like a frog. “Got the girl tripping all over her feet.”
I laughed, keeping an arm around her as I slid the cap backward. “I can’t help it. It’s my magnetic charm.”
“Or it could be your smell.” Ollie grinned. “I’m not sure I heard a shower this morning.”
I gasped. “Do I smell bad, Avery?”
“You smell great,” she said, and then a red flush quickened across her cheeks. “I mean, you don’t smell bad.”