Tease

  I stared at her blankly.

  “You know.” She nudged me with her elbow.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Hottie Shaw?” She lowered her voice and looked around. Like we were in high school or something and she didn’t want anyone to overhear us talking about a boy. She was conservative like that. Discreet. A little like Georgia with her small-town roots. For her, hooking up with a guy overnight was a big deal and not something she would just talk about in front of other people. In other words—the polar opposite of Annie.

  “Why would you think I had plans with Shaw?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I saw ya’ll together, Em.” Her voice dropped to a hush again. “And you brought him to your room.” Her big brown eyes widened meaningfully. “You never do that, Em. Thought he might be . . . different for you.” She looked almost hopeful as she said this.

  I resisted agreeing with her. Yeah. Shaw was different. But that didn’t mean he was suddenly in my life to stay.

  “I don’t have plans with Shaw. Let’s go to a movie. Not before three though. My dad’s in town and I have to see him.”

  She nodded, her smile subdued. Almost like she wished I did have plans with Shaw.

  “Hey, you’re not hoping I get all settled down and boring like Georgia and Pepper?” I nudged her with my elbow. “Who’ll be your wing-girl then?”

  She shrugged and smiled easily. “Hey, I don’t want to be single forever. I wouldn’t begrudge you finding someone. I want that for both of us.”

  I groaned. “Not you, too.”

  “What?” She arched her dark eyebrows.

  I started walking toward the door. “You. Pepper. Georgia. You’re all leaving me for your happily-ever-afters.”

  “I’m an optimist, what can I say?” Then she shook her head, almost sadly. “But I’m not abandoning you. Haven’t met anyone yet. Still looking.”

  She walked backward from me, inching toward her classroom door.

  I shook my head at her. She wouldn’t be for long. Sweet, attractive girls like her found boyfriends. Got married. Had kids.

  I pointed. “You better start looking now because you’re about to run into someone.”

  She whirled around seconds before colliding with a guy who was walking with his nose buried in his phone. She warded him off with a hand, narrowly missing him. He looked up from his phone and said something. Suzanne laughed, tossing her rich mane of brown hair. Her laughter was a tinkling sound I only ever heard from her when she was getting her flirt on. Yeah. The girl was looking all right.

  Smiling, I turned and stepped out of the building. I had walked only a few feet before the smile slipped from my face and my mind drifted back to my phone call with Justin. I hated that he’d called. That all of it came flooding back. That I would be thinking about it and him and Mom and everything I had worked so hard to bury.

  I needed a distraction.

  My phone vibrated from my pocket. I dug it out and read the screen.

  Shaw: Hey

  My heart did a stupid little flip. God. I so wasn’t that girl. The type who waited for the boy to admit he really really really liked her. That he wanted to be with her. I wasn’t that sad. I knew he wanted me. This was the same guy who had declared I was going to ask him for sex. It was my job to make sure that didn’t happen.

  Me: Hey back

  Shaw: Let’s go out

  Well, that was to the point. Not such a surprise though. I was coming to expect it from him.

  Me: I don’t date

  Shaw: Except we did

  Me: That wasn’t a date, remember?

  Shaw: Yes, it was. Remember?

  I swallowed back a sound that was part laughter and part snort. Cocky jerk. I could almost imagine his too-good-looking face—calm and devoid of expression. Just matter of fact.

  Me: No offense. I just don’t date

  Shaw: Is this some kind of rule of yours? You know what they say about rules

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it. I knew what he was implying. Rules were meant to be broken. And yeah, usually I would agree, except my no-dating policy was of my own making. I only had a few self-imposed rules, and those I didn’t break.

  Shaw: You seem like a rule-breaker type

  Me: Not about this

  And not with him.

  Shaw: I can’t stop thinking about you. The sound of your laugh. And the little sounds you make when I touch you . . .

  Heat flamed my face. I gulped and glanced around like someone could hear the seductive whisper of his words. Thankfully, no one was looking at me. I wanted to see him again, too. It was an ache in my chest. And in other parts. He made me feel special. Like maybe I was unique to him. Dangerous thinking. I shoved the phone back in my pocket, determined to ignore him, determined not to look again even when I felt it vibrate against my hip. I wanted a distraction, true, but he wasn’t it.

  Facing forward, I resumed my trek across campus, tilting my face into the cold, welcoming the bite of wind, letting it chase away the lingering heat from a simple text conversation with Shaw. Simple? Nothing about him and how he made me feel was simple. And that was the problem.

  In time he’d forget about me.

  Even if I didn’t forget him.

  I could live with that. I’d learned to live with a lot. This would just be one more thing.

  THE GRAPEVINE WAS A French-style country bistro just a few blocks from campus. I didn’t need to drive there. I walked swiftly, determined to be on time. I jogged lightly over the crosswalk, my boot heels clicking sharply on the gravel street. Dad hated it when I was late.

  It was the type of place you went to on a nice date—if the guy really wanted to impress you. It was a little pricey. At least that’s what I’d heard. Some guy took Suzanne there once. She thought maybe he was “the one.” At least she’d said that then. She’d said that a few times. Clearly he hadn’t turned out to be the one.

  It was also the type of place where parents liked to eat because it wasn’t overrun by college kids. Parents like my dad. A Dartford alum and member of the board of trustees. He came to campus at least twice a year for meetings, and we always had breakfast or lunch on those occasions. Never dinner. He never stuck around long enough for that. He attended his meeting, checked in with me, and was gone by three. In and out and back to his life.

  As I pushed through the heavy wood door, the hostess greeted me with a warm smile. “Hello, welcome to the Grapevine.”

  My gaze skimmed the tall brunette, immediately recognizing her. “Beth?”

  She blinked, angling her head to study me. I was dressed more conservatively than the last time she’d seen me, wearing a long wool skirt, my hair tamed smoothly around my face. I couldn’t hide the magenta streaks in my dark hair but I could style it less dramatically. My turtleneck sweater peeked out of my coat. “Uh . . .”

  “Hi. I’m Emerson, remember? Reece and Pepper’s friend. I was at your engagement party.”

  Recognition lit her eyes. “Ah, yes.” Her smile returned. “That was such a crazy night. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you right away.”

  I nodded. “That’s okay. There were a lot of people there.” Including your cousin, I was tempted to add. I could see a little bit of Shaw in her—in the width of her high cheekbones.

  “Yes.” She stepped closer, dropping her voice. “And I might have had a few too many margaritas.”

  “You had cause to celebrate.”

  Her eyes softened. “Yeah. I did.” She was obviously thinking about her fiancé. Cynic that I was, I was happy for her. This girl who had lost so much—a brother—deserved some happiness. And so did Shaw. I couldn’t stop my thoughts from going to him.

  I knew I didn’t know the whole story, but it just didn’t seem right. “I’m friends with Shaw, too,” I added without thinking.

  And maybe I shouldn’t have because the softness faded from her eyes and she just looked flinty-eyed and uncomfortable then. “You are.” It was
n’t a question. Only a statement. Turning sideways, she reached for the menus beside the podium. “Table for one or . . .”

  “I’m meeting my father.”

  “Oh, he’s here.” She set the menus back down with a nod and smiled. It was the fake hostess smile again. The other friendly smile she had given me when I reminded her of who I was had vanished. “Right this way.”

  I followed her to the table where my father was sitting, talking on the phone with someone. He gave me a small wave.

  Beth motioned to the chair and started to turn, clearly eager to escape.

  “Thanks, Beth.”

  She looked back slightly, her hostess smile still firmly in place on her lips. “My pleasure.”

  I was still staring after her when Dad hung up.

  “Emerson, how are you?”

  I snapped my gaze to my father. “Good. How are you, Daddy? Did your meeting go well?”

  He made a face. “Oh, they’re interested in opening a new building for the Theater and Dance Department. Can you imagine? Why would they possibly need an entire building?”

  I stared at him as he perused the menu, marveling that he could think so little of the arts when his own daughter was a studio arts major.

  “Imagine that,” I murmured.

  The waiter appeared then and we placed our orders.

  His gaze settled on me then, and even though he had seen me over the holidays he winced at the dyed streaks in my hair. Fortunately, he refrained from commenting. He’d already voiced his disapproval. I was spared from hearing it again.

  “So. How’s school?”

  “Good.” I sipped from my glass of water. “I’ve been busy on several pieces for the upcoming showcase—”

  “Oh, that reminds me. I was talking to Bill Wetherford.”

  At my blank look, he added, “Of Wetherford Enterprises?”

  I nodded like that rang a bell. He was looking at me like I should know the company.

  Apparently he could see I didn’t. “It’s one of the largest toilet paper manufacturers in the United States. Anyway. Turns out Wetherford is interested in creating an in-house design team. And I told him all about you.”

  A design team for a toilet paper company? “That sounds . . . interesting.”

  Thankfully, our food arrived right then and he became more interested in his prime rib. Conversation was intermittent after that and he took two more calls. I found myself watching Beth as she came in and out of the room, seating other diners. It seemed like she made a great effort not to look my way, and I knew it was because I’d brought up Shaw.

  I don’t know why I had mentioned him. We weren’t really friends. Sure, I hadn’t kissed any other guy since I met him, but that was about to change. At least I assumed it would. I doubted a night at a kink club would result in anything less. Annie had texted me and we were on for tonight.

  “So. Emerson,” Dad said, clicking his phone shut. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  I shook my head and reached for my glass, shoving the image of Shaw from my mind. “No. No one.”

  “Good. You’re still young. Best to focus on your studies and get your career off the ground.”

  I nodded like that was it. Like that was the reason I wasn’t seeing anyone. The reason I couldn’t let myself have more than empty hookups. The reason I was going to a kink club. It had nothing to do with trying to get a guy out of my system.

  Chapter 13

  I DROVE MY OWN car, my fingers flexing on the leather steering wheel as if finding the right grip would somehow strengthen my shaky resolve. Annie offered to drive, but that was one mistake I wasn’t repeating. My stomach was full of knots as I followed her across town, and I wasn’t sure why. Deciding to go to the kink club was a lot easier in theory. Right now, when it was about to become a reality . . . it was a lot harder than I had expected.

  I parked behind Annie on a residential street. The houses were nice, middle-class homes. Two-storied with driveways scraped fresh of snow.

  Shaw had texted me off and on through the week . . . even called twice. I ignored him until he finally stopped. Either he had given up or he was just super busy. Pepper had mentioned that Reece went to visit him at work to check out the custom bike he was working on for some rich client, so there was merit in that theory.

  Still, as I stepped from my car and locked it, I couldn’t help wondering what he was doing tonight. I couldn’t imagine him spending a Friday night alone, but Pepper hadn’t mentioned that she or Reece had plans with him. Was he at Maisie’s?

  “C’mon!” Annie waved at me anxiously. As I hurried to catch up with her, she added, “This isn’t the kind of thing you want to be late to. All the most interesting people are paired up by then.”

  Annie turned up the walkway of a two-story home that looked very . . . Well, not the location one would expect to host a kink club.

  “This is it?”

  “Tonight it is. It changes location every time.”

  I sent her a look. “Why?”

  She laughed. “I never thought I’d say this, but oh, Emerson. You’re so naïve.” At my continued blank look, she sighed. “So we don’t get raided.”

  “Raided? What? Are we walking into a meth house?” I looked around as if I expected the DEA to jump out of the bushes.

  She laughed again. “Do me a favor. Don’t sound like such a Girl Scout in there. Or maybe you should. Some of them might like that.”

  Misgivings trickled through me as we neared the front door. Music floated from behind it. She stepped up onto the porch ahead of me. When she realized I wasn’t at her side, she started to turn back, but then the front door opened.

  A girl dressed from head to toe in black leather stepped out followed by a guy. A guy I knew. And so did Annie.

  “Logan,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”

  He looked down at me in surprise from the porch. “Emerson. What are you doing here?”

  “Logan,” Annie greeted in a purring voice, sidling close. She stroked a hand along his arm. “I didn’t know you were a member.”

  He gave her a distracted look, as if he didn’t remember hooking up with her all that well. “Amber, hey. How are you?”

  “Annie,” she snapped. “It’s Annie.” She shot me a look. “I’ll be inside.” That said, she flounced in.

  Logan and his friend descended the steps to stop in front of me. He repeated himself. “Em, what are you doing here?”

  I looked from the friend back to him. “Same thing you are.”

  He shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck, looking older than his eighteen years as he stared at me in concern. “Look, maybe you should go home.”

  His friend dug in her bag, pulled out a cigarette, and lit up. She watched us with mild interest, inhaling deeply.

  “Why would I want to do that?”

  He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not sure this is the place for you. You don’t want to go in there.”

  I laughed, but the sound was forced. “Clearly you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  He shared a look with his companion. She watched me in silence, her black fingernails a severe contrast to her milk-white skin as she brought the cigarette to her lips again. She worked her lips, puffing smoke in my direction. Her lips were painted so red they looked almost as dark as her fingernails. Her throaty voice scratched the air. “It’s not for everyone, sweetheart. Maybe you should listen to him.”

  I squared my shoulders, affronted that Logan and this stranger thought I was somehow incapable of handling whatever was on the other side of this door. They didn’t know me. I was strong. I wasn’t afraid.

  And I was fed up. I was tired of being pushed and pulled by others. Justin. My mother. And now, even though he was nothing like either one of them, to an extent . . . by Shaw.

  I was in control. Meeting Logan’s gaze straight on, I said, “I can handle it.” I moved forward and they parted for me. Marching up the steps, I didn’
t bother knocking. Turning the doorknob, I walked inside the house.

  IT TOOK PRECISELY FIVE minutes for me to realize I’d made a mistake.

  It was dark inside the house. Candles big and small decorated several surfaces. Tables. Shelves. I was offered a blindfold, which I declined with a shake of my head. This only got me a frown from the woman dressed in a costume that resembled those cigarette girl outfits from the forties. She moved on with her tray of blindfolds. I didn’t see Annie anywhere.

  Sounds mingled with music as I carefully navigated the room. It didn’t take an expert to identify the noises. Moans and wails and sharp, keening cries drifted from upstairs.

  I told myself not to let it bother me. It’s not as though I hadn’t been to parties before. I’m sure people made use of rooms at all those other parties I attended. I just never had to hear quite so well what was going on inside them. Logan’s voice echoed through my mind: You don’t want to go in there.

  Shaking off that echo, I moved on, searching for Annie.

  Several people sat on a couch, all blindfolded. Three women and one man. They were touching, kissing, slowly removing each other’s clothing piece by piece.

  As I skirted the couch, a woman approached me and offered me a drink. I smiled shakily as I declined. Something told me I shouldn’t drink. Not only did I need a clear head, but who knew what could be in the contents of those glasses?

  A hand stroked down my arm and laced with my fingers. I yanked my hand away and looked down. A guy sat in a sofa chair, a girl already snuggled up in his lap. He smiled at me and held out his hand as if I would just naturally accept it. He patted the seat next to him and then with that same hand he cupped the girl’s breast, watching me as he fondled it.

  My stomach dipped. I backed away and bumped into someone. I turned with an apology on my lips and came face-to-face with a life-size squirrel. Given his height I would guess it was a man.

  A man inside a squirrel costume.

  He bumped me again and I glanced down to see that he was anatomically correct. Well, disproportionately so. Peering at him in the dim lighting, that part of him jutted out bigger than the average man. Bigger than the above average man.