“So, that means no cram fest together tonight then, huh?” Paige asked with mild concern. Some TV show was drawing her attention away from the conversation quickly.
I smacked my palm to my forehead. I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to help her study tonight. I’d made note cards and everything the other night while I’d lain in bed sucking on throat lozenges.
“I forgot! I’m sorry,” I said. “We can still study though, I’ll drink some coffee and then I’ll be good to go. Promise.”
“Eh, it’s really not that big of a deal. I think I’ll manage. I’ll just look over those note card things you made before the test and I should be good,” she said. Her eyes were glued to the TV; she didn’t even notice when half of the noodles she’d attempted to cram in her mouth fell into her lap.
Shifting my eyes, I realized why. It wasn’t a TV show she was watching—it was the movie Magic Mike. And dear God, I didn’t blame her for tuning me out. How Channing Tatum landed those dance moves blew my freaking mind. This couldn’t be something he was taught, that was for sure. No, not even close, those dance moves were something he was born knowing how to do. And Jesus he looked good doing them.
* * * *
After watching Magic Mike with my eyes glued to the TV, I made a cup of coffee and decided to cram a bit before I went to bed anyway. This would have generally been fine, but with the images from the movie still lingering in my mind and the aching they’d created between my thighs still plying for my attention—there was no studying going to happen at the moment. Picking up my phone, I tapped on Facebook to distract myself, and maybe find a good picture of Jason to stare at while I took matters into my own hands.
Once Facebook loaded, I realized I wasn’t the only one up at midnight—Jason was too. And he instantly messaged me.
What are you doing up so late? Allowing Facebook to distract you while taking a break from cramming the night before like the rest of us?
Ha! If only he knew what I was trolling Facebook for.
Yup, you caught me. What about you? Same?
I bit my bottom lip while I waited for his response. Why was I even talking to him? No good could come from this.
Trout, I reminded myself, you do not want to be a trout on his pole. His pole? Damn you, Magic Mike, now my mind was corrupted for good.
Same. What’s your major again?
I’d just told him this the other night. Was his memory really that lax?
I’m going for my RN license.
Oh. Right. I forgot.
I let out a loud breath. The release I’d wanted moments ago was now gone. Maybe it had been a good thing—pleasuring myself to an image of Jason from Facebook sounded stalker-ish in more ways than I liked. By being online and talking to me, he’d actually done me a favor.
What’s yours?
It was part common courtesy of me to ask and partly because I wanted to know. He responded quickly.
Psychology.
I wasn’t sure what shocked me more—his speed at responding or his answer.
Wow, really?
Why, does that surprise you?
I thought about his question for a minute, determining the best way to answer.
Just figured you’d be studying sports medicine or something considering how athletic you were in high school.
Athletic, why did I have to say that? Now I was back to thinking about his body and how finely sculpted it was sure to feel beneath my hands.
Eh, I enjoy learning about the mind and people’s behavior patterns and such. Maybe I’m a little more intellectual than you thought, huh?
Did he think I thought he was a moron? Wasn’t too far from the truth. I mean, a person couldn’t have it all—both brains and body—could they?
Guilty.
Well, maybe if you’d take me up on my offer for next Saturday you’d get to know me a little more and realize that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Damn it, there he was bringing Saturday up again. Trout. Trout. I really needed to remember that. I couldn’t let him reel me in, it would only cause me heartache and pain that I didn’t need.
You know you never gave me a legitimate reason as to why you said no.
My heart dropped to my stomach. Why would he put me on the spot like that? I laid my head back, trying to think of a reply.
I’m still waiting...
I hated that he was waiting. I hated that I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would seem good enough for why I couldn’t go out with him.
I think I have to work that night, I’ll have to check my schedule when I go in tomorrow.
Wasn’t that pretty much the same thing I’d told him the other night? It was partly true. I did need to check my schedule when I went in tomorrow, but I knew already that I had weekends off this month, because they knew I was preparing for finals and needed the time to study.
It’s early in the week. You could let them know you won’t be able to work Saturday and then come hang out with me at the bar. I could make it worth your while.
The area between my thighs began to tingle just reading his words. I didn’t know if by saying “he’d make it worth my while” he meant what I was suddenly thinking of, but it brought a smile to my face nonetheless.
Chewing my bottom lip, I wondered what I should respond back with. Why was I telling him no? Jason Bryant wanted to go out with me, the least I could do was say yes. After all, this was my high school dream happening right now. Maybe it was time I finally gave into this fantasy while I still had the chance.
All right, you’ve twisted my arm. I’ll see what I can do at work and get back to you soon.
I have to be honest here. I would say that’s a good thing, you agreeing to look into it, but I’m not too sure it is. Sounds more like I’m forcing you into going out with me and that’s not how I planned this would go when I first thought to ask.
Great, now I’d made him feel as though he’d pressured me into agreeing to go out with him. Or worse, that I’d only said I’d check tomorrow and see what my schedule was because it was the only way to get him off my back without saying a flat-out no.
No, you’re not forcing me into anything. I want to go out with you, I do, I just need to check my schedule and see if I’m off before I say yes. With finals and all the stress that comes with them, I’ve been sort of scatterbrained lately.
That may or may not have made the situation worse on his end. I wasn’t sure, but it was the best excuse I could come up with at the moment.
I can relate. Good to know. Night, Blaire.
Night.
My fingers went to my lips and I leaned back against my pillow. Saturday night I had a date with Jason Bryant. I mentally scrolled through the outfits I usually wore out. None of them seemed good enough. Tossing my phone onto my comforter, I crossed my ankles. Damn, I needed a new outfit. Even if I wasn’t planning to go out with him again after this, I still needed something freaking awesome to wear. At least I had a few days to plan.
CHAPTER TWELVE
JASON
The week stretched out before me like no other. It was excruciatingly slow and by Friday night I was nearly brain-dead from studying, testing, stressing over the repairs I was going to have to make on my Gramps’ house, and thinking of Blaire.
I hated the game I’d played with her online, the way I’d been forced to pull on her heartstrings in order to get her to say yes to me, but like I’d said before, I wasn’t above it. Blaire had caved and proved my theory on her to be correct—she was still the sweetheart I remembered from high school. Because she’d caved fairly easily, there was no doubt in my mind she either already knew her schedule for the week and that she didn’t have to work on Saturday, or else she really would go in and check like she claimed. Either way, I knew I’d be seeing her at the bar come Saturday.
A satisfied smirk twisted itself into place on my face at the thought.
My cell rang from on my dresser, where I’d set it after I’d chec
ked Facebook for the millionth time this week to see if Blaire had said anything else to me. She hadn’t and I’d been planning on what I’d say to her for three days. I needed to remind her about tomorrow night and find out for sure what her answer was. Picking up my phone, I glanced at the screen to see who was calling me. It was my mom. I answered after the fourth ring.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How was your day?”
“Not bad,” I said. “I’m glad finals are done. That’s for sure.”
She chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “I bet you are. Do you think you did all right?”
“Yeah, I think I did fine.” I pulled my duffle bag from in the back of my closet and tossed it on my bed. “So, what’s up? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Everything is fine. I just went to visit your grandfather.”
“Is he doing any better?” I asked only because I felt I should, but knew the answer would be no. He was about to die from a broken heart, there was no way any doctor could fix that.
She sighed into the phone and I felt my chest tighten. “Yeah, he’s okay. It’s just hard seeing him this way. I know he misses Mom, but I just wish he wouldn’t let go so easily. Is that selfish of me?”
Crossing my room, I sat on the edge of my bed. I didn’t know what to say. Did I think she was being selfish in wanting her father to hang around longer than he wanted, because she couldn’t deal with the pain of losing another loved one? Hell no. She was human, not selfish.
“No, that’s not selfish, Mom,” I said. I wished I could come up with something of value to say, some words of wisdom that would ease her mind if only for a moment, but I couldn’t think of any off the top of my head. “I think your prognosis is normal.” I chuckled and hoped she would too. When she did, my chest loosened some.
“Thank you, Dr. Bryant.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “Are you heading home tonight or tomorrow?”
I had planned on hitting a party tonight and then leaving sometime in the afternoon tomorrow, but now that I’d heard her voice, and the loneliness etched within it, I’d changed my mind. “Tonight,” I said. “Is that all right? I want to get an early start tomorrow on that list the inspector gave you.”
“That’s fine by me. I took out a Lowe’s charge card yesterday for all the supplies and stuff you might need.”
“Why?” I asked, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make the payments on it.
“How else did you think I was going to pay for everything?” she asked. There was humor in her voice.
“I don’t know, but how can you afford another payment each month?” I asked.
“I’ve got it figured out, Jason, don’t worry about it,” she snapped. “I plan on paying it off when I sell the house. With the money I make from it I should be able to pay that off and the last of Dad’s medical bills from when he thought he was having that heart attack his insurance didn’t cover entirely.”
Shit. I remembered that. He’d thought he was having a heart attack about a week after Gran’s funeral. Mom had said she’d taken him to the hospital and it had turned out to be nothing but an acute panic attack. I’d known then though that it was his heart breaking just a little more from missing Gran.
“I thought the insurance paid for that all,” I said.
“No, not everything. There’s still a big chunk I’ve been making a small payment on each month,” she replied.
Running my hands through my hair, I realized that my mom was tougher than shit. How the hell she handled so much all on her own blew my mind and made me feel all kinds of guilty for not being there for her.
“What time do you think you’ll be here? I can cook dinner,” she said, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’ll leave in about an hour or so.” I walked across the room and began shoving clothes from my dresser into my duffle bag.
“All right, I’ll make something,” she said. “I’ll see you in a few. Be careful, sweetie.”
“I will. Bye, Mom. Love you.”
“Bye. Love you, too.” She hung up and I clicked end on my phone as well.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I headed into the living room and tossed it on the recliner. Brian and Sarah were snuggling beside each other on the couch, watching some TV show I’d never seen before. It was some paranormal crap that I was sure Brain wouldn’t watch if Sarah wasn’t here.
“You headed out already?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“I thought you were coming to Sebastian’s party tonight to celebrate finals being over,” Sarah said. “I promise Valerie won’t be there. I already talked with her earlier and she said she was planning to go to Stephanie’s.”
Valerie. I hated even thinking about her right now. We’d dated on and off for a year or so until I finally realized she was the type who enjoyed fighting. She was like the couple in 515 E, the type who got some kind of sick thrill from fighting and arguing because they enjoyed make-up sex a little too much. Valerie was drama and after a while of being trapped in her web I’d learned I didn’t enjoy drama as much as she did. Knowing that, I still found myself sucked into her each time I spotted her at a party. Maybe it was the alcohol in my system that caused for a lapse in judgment, or maybe it was the sense of comfort I found with her because there was history there between us—whatever the reason, I always found my limbs entwined with hers the next morning and felt filled with regret.
“I can’t, guys. I really need to head back home.” I scratched the back of my neck. “My mom’s got a shit ton to deal with right now and I really need to be with her. I’m sorry.”
“It’s cool, man. We get it,” Brian said. “When do you think you’ll be back?”
“Sometime on Sunday for sure, I gotta work Monday at the course.”
“Just be sure you fucking call me when you get into town this time, okay?” he said. Sarah blushed and buried her head into Brian’s shoulder.
“I will.” I smirked. I headed to the fridge for a can of Pepsi and then scooped up my bag off the recliner. “Enjoy another roommate-free weekend, lovebirds.” I winked at them as I walked out the door.
* * * *
During my drive from Dormere to Coldcreek, my mind drifted to Blaire and tomorrow night. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough for me. I’d stopped at a gas station about forty miles back and sent her a message through Facebook asking if she’d checked her schedule yet and been able to weasel me into her Saturday night fun. It was killing me to not know if she’d seen it or responded back.
Seeing her Facebook picture had made me think of the dream I’d had of her the other night, and it had been playing on repeat since in my mind. I’d been at some castle in Ireland, for what reason I wasn’t sure.
Blaire was a maid—complete with a sexy little outfit and black feather duster. She’d come up to my room and started dusting while I’d been sitting on the loveseat, reading a novel. In my dream I looked like I felt on the inside—like an intellectual type—not like how I actually looked, a football star. Blaire had been smiling at me while she dusted the oversized mantel above the fireplace. I’d stood to walk to her and corny background music started to play instantly, signifying what we were about to be doing.
I’d continued to where she stood, appraising her with my eyes. She flashed me a sexy smile and I took in every inch of her. Her hair was pulled up in a high bun; she wore a short black dress with white lace trim and a tiny white apron tied around her small waist. But it was her heels that caught and held my attention—they were some serious fuck-me heels and all I wanted was to do was give in to what they begged for.
Gripping the back of her neck, I cradled her head as I went in for the kill. Her lips were soft, tender. Her tongue flicked across my bottom lip and caused my pants to become way too tight. I’d opened my mouth wider for her, slipped a hand under her dress, and began trailing my fingers against the soft skin of her thigh to the area that was calling to me most. Just when I reached the silky fabric of her pant
ies, my alarm went off and I’d woken up with a hard-on like no other that morning.
Turning onto exit 42 B, I merged into traffic. I’d be home in nearly thirty minutes. My stomach grumbled at the thought of food. I wondered what Mom would be making and prayed it was something actually edible, because I was starved.
Mom’s little Nissan was parked in the driveway. I pulled in behind it and cut the engine of my Jeep. Reaching behind me, I grabbed my duffle bag from the backseat and climbed out. The first step to the porch was bowing up at one end. It creaked when I stepped on it, reminding me that I needed to fix it before I left this time. I was by no means a carpenter, but I could fix just about anything…with the help of Google and a few tutorials to walk me through. At least, I thought I could.
Mom was in the kitchen, her dark hair pulled back from her face in a low ponytail. She was stirring something in a large pot with one hand while the other was placed on her hip. Music filled the house—The Eagles, Hotel California—from the little iPod docking station I’d bought her last year for Christmas. It was still strange to think of my mom as actually owning and using an iPod.
“Hey, how was the trip?” she asked. A large smile broke out on her face and I was instantly glad that I’d come home tonight. “You got here at just the right time. Dinner will be ready in about five.”
“The trip was good. Easy,” I said. I closed the kitchen door behind me and moved to her side. “Whatcha cookin’?”
“Spaghetti.”
“Smells good.” I inhaled and smiled. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I’d had spaghetti.
“Thanks,” she beamed.
Hoisting my duffle bag up higher on my shoulder, I headed toward my room at the back of the house. The music grew quieter and Mom’s singing softer. I tossed the bag on my bed and pulled my cell from my pocket. I had to see if Blaire had responded yet, the suspense was killing me.
As soon as Facebook uploaded, I realized she’d left me a message.
Sorry. I meant to let you know earlier that I’ll be there tomorrow night. The week has fried my brain, I blame my lack of responding to stress from finals. See you there at eight?
I couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that spread on my face after reading her message.
I get it. I’m burned out this week, too. Eight sounds like a fine time to unwind and destress with you. See you at the bar.