I don’t think I’ll ever go to work again.
But right now, that little fantasy just isn’t an option.
* * *
The weekend sucked for many reasons—most all of which were related to Piper, but it’s also the first time I actually blew off visiting Aubree. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get my ass out of bed to save my life or hers. I have Piper on the brain, on my heart, on my dirty-stained soul. She’s all I can think about. She’s all I want to think about.
But I do know one fact that will be my saving grace—Piper James has a nine o’clock class tomorrow morning, and she has yet to miss a single scholastic hour at Whitney Briggs University. I plan on being there if I can’t get to her sooner.
I ran into Wyatt this afternoon at the Black Bear and casually asked how Piper was doing. He seemed oblivious to her cross state jaunt, and I wasn’t about to out her, no matter how badly I wanted to. I’m not going there. Things might be fucked-up, but there’s no reason to unravel her life any further. Piper is a big girl, a badass to boot. She can rip the balls off a grown man with the best of them. Unfortunately, it feels as if I’m the one she’s ripping them off of. Not that I don’t deserve it.
Late Sunday, my anxiety level rises, and I decide to camp outside her dorm with my truck parked partially in the bushes, and about seven-thirty, Winston rolls in with his bright yellow Ferrari and kicks her to the curb, duffle bag and all. He speeds out of the lot like his dick is on fire, and I’m hoping it is from all the rejection she doled out this weekend.
I don’t hesitate jumping out of my truck and heading over.
As tempting as it is to shout her name, I’m terrified it’ll send her sailing in the opposite direction like a sparrow darting across the sky. I hurdle two sets of benches and cut her off at the pass before she can climb the stairs.
“Hey.” My chest pounds as I pant into the murky darkness. Her raven hair lies flat and glossy, her bright eyes sing into the night like beacons. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful. I’m so relieved she’s here in front of me I want to cry like a pussy.
She gives a long blink and lets out a breath.
“Look, I’ve had a long weekend. Would you mind just getting out of my way?” Her lids hang heavy. Her lips are swollen as if she’s had a good cry, or twenty.
“Please, can we go somewhere and talk? I’m begging you to let me explain everything.”
“There’s nothing to explain.” The heavy shrill in her voice lets me know she’s still closed off to listening to anything I might have to say. “I don’t really care what you do, Owen. It’s your life. If you want to fuck furniture for a living, be my guest. Right now, all I care about is hauling myself to bed. I have some serious sleep to catch up on.”
The thought of Piper not getting much sleep this weekend begs me to do the sexual math. “Did he”—my voice jumps without my permission, and I swallow hard—“did he touch you?” My lip jerks, giving away my emotions, but Piper’s not looking. She’s staring at the ground, the stars, her overnight bag as she tries to maneuver her way around me.
“Yes.” She says it too loud for my taste, and my stomach boils in its own acid. “Is that a satisfactory answer? I let him touch me, taste me, pull my ponytail from behind. Does that paint an image?”
“Like a knife in the gut.”
“Sort of how I felt the other night. Now, if you’re not going to move, make yourself useful and carry something.” She thrusts her duffle bag at me, and I happily toss it over my shoulder. “My legs are sore as shit.” She groans, taking the stairs two at a time.
“You know there’s an elevator.” My heart sinks to my feet just thinking about why her legs might be sore. I think it’s clear how Piper and Winston chose to entertain themselves this weekend, and it makes me want to punch a preppy in the throat until he’s coughing up a bloody lung.
“I like doing things the hard way.” She continues her thigh-busting climb until we hit the third floor. “Just leave it by the door.” She sticks her key into the lock and lets herself in.
“Or I can take it inside for you.” I steel my gaze over hers and silently beg for that option.
Piper glances into her dorm, and those sweet lips of hers twist. “Go ahead.”
The room sits empty. It’s smaller than I imagined, with just two twin beds and two simple desks, a bathroom door sits opened with an arsenal of cosmetics on the counter.
I head inside and land her things onto the mattress.
“Wrong bed,” she says, taking off her shoes. “But then, you don’t really know me, do you? And, of course, vice versa.”
“Then let’s fill in the blanks.”
“I only play that game with people who know the rules.” She glares at me while taking off her shirt, and I blink into her a moment, startled.
“Relax, Punisher. I’m hopping into the shower solo. You’ve already seen my boobs. It’s not like this is some big reveal for you.” She glances over her shoulder at me and smirks. “Besides, I’ve been rather free with the girls all weekend. They’re amassing quite the fan club.”
An instant rage pumps through me. I’m going to kill Winston. I’m going to take a baseball bat to his yellow Big Bird mobile, and then I’m going to shove his head through the windshield. Nobody touches Piper James’ tits but me. My heart pumps through my ears for a few sad moments as the reality hits, because that’s just not true. They’re not mine, and neither is she.
“They deserve a fan club,” I say it weak. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I really care about you, Piper. I care about you so damn much I want to rearrange my world just to have you in it. I’m fucking losing it without you. I went insane all weekend, knowing you were with him, that he was fucking touching you.” I rake my fingers through my hair and give a solid tug because I can’t even stand the words as they speed through my lips. “I can’t take it. I want to start over. More than anything, I want you to give me a second chance.”
Her body remains frozen a moment, her eyes still fixed on mine before she animates and peels off her jeans. I’ve never seen her do that before, never seen those long tan legs, those sculpted calves, thighs that curve up to her luscious hips. Piper James is a fucking woman, beautiful, built for speed, built for my body to master—more like masturbate to.
“Crap,” I whimper, drooling over the obscene amount of flesh she’s willing to wield before me. “You don’t fight fair.”
“I’m not fighting. I’m bathing—or at least I will be in a minute. You should go.” She shakes her hair out of her ponytail, and it expands around her like a dark exotic cloak.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I whisper, that dull ache in my belly churns ten times deeper. “Let me love you. Give us another chance, Piper.” I step in and land my palm over her cheek, so soft, so sweet it’s painful to the touch. Her lips call out to me, and as much as I want to crash my mouth over hers, I don’t dare risk this fragile moment.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” A single tear slips down her cheek, and I catch it on the tip of my finger and suck it down before she can stop me.
“I’m an asshole with too much pride and too little money. My parents cut me off, Piper. They’re wealthy. I’m not. I need to make my way through school. I need a job that doesn’t ask too much of me so I can study. I’m not able to cut this any other way. I wanted to tell you.” I pause for a moment because I can feel the entire Aubree aftermath inching its way up my throat. “After my sister was arrested, nothing was the same for me anymore. My parents didn’t want any part in their children self-destructing over what they believed was too much privilege, so they took it all away. As soon as I turned eighteen, they showed me the door. I needed to claw my way to survive, to eat, to keep a roof over my head. And I wish to God I told you these things ages ago.” Now it’s me with tears in my eyes as the world blurs around me. “The truth is, I was too ashamed. But I promise you, from the depths of my soul, if you give me another chance, there will never be so much of a half-truth betwee
n us. I will never lie to you. I will never hold back one more detail about my life.”
Piper’s hardened expression crumbles as she presses her lips tight in an effort to hold it together. She nods her head in a loose circle.
“’Kay,” she whispers. “I’d better get wet.” She nods toward the shower. “Alone if you don’t mind.”
“Are you coming into work tomorrow?” I lean my head closer, as far as I’m willing to tread at the moment.
Piper looks down and shakes her head, her lips still pursed together to keep from losing it.
“Okay. I’ll hold down the fort. I have a few prospects we can hit. I can’t pull it off alone, but with you by my side, I know we can nail this.”
Piper looks up, her eyes filling with that cutthroat vengeance she turns on and off like a faucet.
“Like you nail all those girls nightly?”
I suppose this isn’t the time to debate with her over the fact I don’t technically sleep with the girls I dance for, and if I’m being truthful, I’ve slept with far more than a handful over the years. I never said I was a saint.
My eyes focus on the stack of books collecting dust on her desk. That’s what she should have been doing this weekend, and yet my indecisiveness to tell her the truth drove her to Virginia and perhaps to the bed of Winston Stanford, where I’m sure he greeted her roughly with his preppy prophylactic, most likely the patriotic edition. The thought makes me sick. I look up, and we sear our gazes over one another. I’ve never felt pain like this, not while looking into the eyes of a beautiful woman. That’s for sure. The tears demand to come, but I battle them, my lips contorting every which way, and I can’t control them.
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Yes.”
Sucker punch.
“Okay.” I clear my throat. “Let me rephrase that. Did you let him fuck you?”
Piper looks to the floor and loses herself for a moment. Her entire body sags, dazed, as she tries to filter out the truth in her head.
“Enjoy that shower, Piper.” I lean in and press a kiss to the top of her head before ditching out the door.
The cold wind feels like a slap to the face.
It should.
I deserve it.
Rumor Has It
Piper
All night sleep fails to find me as I cower under the covers and study the pictures of Owen and me as we were a few weeks ago, happy, our bodies gliding over one another as I snapped away dozens of selfies for a rather selfish endeavor. Well, maybe I didn’t look so happy in them, but only because I didn’t want Jules and Lucille to know how much I was really enjoying myself. I made faces, mostly disgruntled looks that said I’d rather be anywhere but here. It was my cover, and now I wish I didn’t bother. I suppose my secret is as damning as his, but, in truth, I was so shocked, so horrified to see him, see his beautiful chiseled body moving that way on stage for all to see. Then the terminal horror to have him thrust away in my face, not realizing whom I was until that final unbearable moment when I wished that the ceiling had caved in on both of us.
The pressing weight of the world at that moment was too much to bear. Taking off with Winston seemed the only logical answer As soon as Jules and Lucille relayed to him what happened, he promised to keep me safe, keep me far away from any more “embarrassing dancing stalkers”—his words not mine—for the entire weekend. It was just what I needed to hear. I needed the shelter of that iron fortress that surrounded the Stanford estate. I needed to be an entire state away from Owen Vincent if just for a moment. I needed to clear my head. Unfortunately, Winston had other plans.
“Are you all right under there?” Cassidy plucks a corner of the covers away, letting in far too much natural light. Morning had come without my permission, much the way most things happen in my life. “You’re going to be late to class.”
“I’m not going.” I pull the pillow over my head, trying to ignore the fact sleep never found me. “I’m taking the day off. I’m not going anywhere.” Most likely ever again.
“You’re going to that candle lighting ceremony tonight if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. There’s a mixer at the Black Bear an hour before. Scarlett thinks they’re going to cut a bunch of girls at the eleventh hour. You don’t think they’d do that, do you?”
“Those back alley sluts?”
We share a quiet laugh. I think we both know we’re getting into bed with the mean girls. I’m not so sure why we’re bothering anymore. Hell, we should start our own sorority.
“Don’t think for a minute that your luck ran out. Everything is going be okay.” She runs her finger over my cheek, soft as a rabbit’s foot.
“I’m already okay. I just need to rest, let my body catch up with the concept.” I’m not lucky. Never was, never will be.
“That’s that tough girl I know and love. I’ll see you tonight.” She takes off, and I go over those pictures of Owen and me one by one, focusing on something different each time—his strong hands on my belly, his lips adhered to the hollow of my neck, his face buried in my chest. After a while, I was just taking them, just so damn glad to be there I wanted to have every blessed second on record.
At the end of the day, I wanted these pictures for me. A part of me already knew we were too good to be true. I wish he had come for me this weekend. I wish he had busted down that steel fortress surrounding the Stanford residence and carried me off like a princess. It’s a childish fantasy, I know, but still I clung to it like a candle that burned bright with false hope. But Owen didn’t come. Winston tried everything to land me in his bed, and everything he tried failed miserably. There was one brief moment when I said screw it and almost let him screw me. I’d have Alpha Chi in the bag, or the bed as it were, and I would have permanently denied Owen the chance to defile me with his already very much-defiled penis. But as much as I wanted to turn into a wildcat, ready and willing to claw everyone’s eyes out, I couldn’t do it.
I spent the night in his sister’s old bedroom, with its pink walls and fluffy stuffed giraffe in the corner with a crooked neck. The entire room screamed little girl, and, ironically, that’s what I felt like, a lost, lonely, scared little girl. I read every single text message Owen sent. Cried as I listened to his impassioned pleas on my voicemail while he did his best to clog up my inbox. I read his emails until my eyes bled raw. I cried all weekend, no matter how fucking angry I was with everyone involved, myself mostly. In the end, I reasoned Jules and Lucille were just trying to do me a favor by demonstrating what a sleaze Owen really was, even if I never did see it that way.
Owen Vincent. I hate that you still very much own me.
* * *
The Black Bear is alive and electric as all of the sororities host their end of rush fall ball here tonight. It’s obviously a coed event, so Sigma Theta Tau is trolling the scene. Winston nods to me from across the room, and I give a little wave. I’m not sure what’s going to happen tonight. He was really nice about covering for me. He said he’d make sure I got my bed at Alpha Chi. He acted as if he didn’t care for their tactics when I told him about the list. He was quite the gentleman as we played Monopoly and watched old TV shows until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore. But the closer we drove to campus, I could tell he was pissed. He was expecting a payout, and he didn’t get it. When you’re used to having your every whim handed to you on a silver platter, it can be quite disconcerting to have your balls tossed at you on a paper plate.
“So, girls—” Jules strides around us, stiffened with pride like a mother hen. “You have survived rush. Congratulations. This is the final night, the final hour before your fates are sealed, and you are either tapped to become an official part of the Alpha Chi legacy or permanently dismissed from the roster. But first, there’s just one more thing…”
Scarlett looks to Cassidy and me.
“Crap,” I hiss low enough for their ears only. “I knew the head games were far from over. What now? Walking in a pile of crap while they set it on fir
e? That about describes this entire damn experience.”
Scarlett and Cassidy buck with a quiet laugh while Daisy sits clear across the room with the other Alpha Chi sisters. A part of me is jealous that all she had to go through was a little verbal humiliation. And here I had to falsely give away my virginity.
“Now”—Lucille walks around, handing us each a moist towelette—“It’s time for the last dance before we head back to Alpha House to begin our candle lighting ceremony. If you haven’t been paired up with a match at Sigma Theta Tau, feel free to dance with any brother.”
“What are the wet wipes for?” Scarlett shakes it out in front of her as if it were a pompom.
“I want each of you to take off your makeup. All of it. False lashes off, those caterpillars you call eyebrows gone. The signature lips—take them down to nude. This is the final test of an Alpha girl, the ability to bear her real self to the world, because an Alpha girl never has anything to hide.”
Most every single PNM gets straight to work, scraping off spackle as if they were readying for bed, but Cassidy freezes.
“Don’t do it if you don’t want to,” I tell her.
“What did you say?” Jules spits out as if I’ve just let a wet one rip.
“I said she doesn’t have to do it.” I step in, trying to reason with her. “You see, she has this scar…”
“And she should wear it proudly. You survived, didn’t you?” She barks that last part at Cassidy. “Nobody cares what your fucking face looks like. Take off that frosting and get on the dance floor. I’ve got a ceremony to run, and I don’t need a drama queen putting us behind.” She cuts into Cassidy just the way she did Daisy the other night.
“Hell no,” I say loud enough to garner the stares of an entire circle of girls—their lips all rounding out into the same audacious red velvet O. “Cassidy, you don’t need to take it all off. Just take off your lipstick and go dance.” I shrug to Jules with a look that begs her to be reasonable. “She’s really self-conscious about this. It’s not some zit she’s trying to cover up. This is a bit bigger than that.”