Ryker Voss is the most annoying football player alive.
Twilight is over. It’s after midnight, and I should be dead tired, but instead, I’m debating the merits of my favorite book.
“That movie just plain sucked,” he announces smugly.
I sit cross-legged, facing him, blue in the face from trying to explain the plot points.
He’s shaking his head at me.
I’m feeling petulant and grumpy. I wanted him to love it as much as I do. “Don’t you have a heart?”
He laughs. “Where were the gore and fangs? Not to mention the questionable hairstyles, creeping on her when she sleeps—and the sparkling in the sun thing? Toss in the no sex and it’s two stars at best.”
His eyes are lit with amusement as he watches me sputter. I wave my hands around, trying to find the right words to bring him over to my side.
“You’re telling the truth?” He nods.
My shoulders slump. It’s like eating the best piece of chocolate ever and giving a piece to your friend only to have them spit it out.
“I think the no sex is part of the appeal,” I say. “Saving yourself for the one person you truly love—that means something.”
He scoffs but then sobers when he reads the look on my face.
His lips part, and I see a dawning on his face. “Are you a virgin, Penelope?”
Panic at being so transparent rises for half a second until it ebbs away. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can be myself with him. “Yes.”
His face changes, the humor softening into amazement. “A twenty-one- year-old virgin…at Waylon? Impossible.”
I stare down at my hands.
“Are you sure?” He’s leaning in closer to me now, the heat from his body radiating to mine.
I roll my eyes. “I can assure you I’ve never had my cherry popped, hooked up, yada, yada, yada…”
I glance back up, and he’s staring at me, his gaze swirling with an indecipherable emotion.
“How far have you gone with a guy?”
I cock my head. “Seriously? You’re asking for specifics?” “It’s just so rare. I’m fascinated.”
I chew on my lips. “Good. I’m glad you’re not prejudiced against virgins.”
His lips quirk. “You’ve been kissed. Obviously.” I nod.
His gaze lingers on my chest. “And second base?” I nod.
His face grows still. “Third base?”
The air grows heavy. “What is third base?” I murmur.
“You want me to describe it?” he asks. There’s a flush on his cheeks as we stare at each other.
Heat rises in my face. Yes. I want him to spell it out in excruciating detail, so I can replay it over and over when he’s gone.
“Third base is when a guy—or a girl…” He stops and looks at me. “Guy.”
“Puts their hands…” He glances down at my legs and clears his throat. “Inside your underwear and touches you.”
Fire licks at me. It feels as if he’s touching me now, sliding his hands under my panties, his fingers dipping inside—
I suck in a breath. “Hmmmm, I see. And the purpose of this is to…”
His chest rises. “Fuck, Red. To get you off. Make you come. Have you ever had an orgasm?”
My eyes lower. “Oh, definitely. I’m just waiting for a special person to give myself to completely.”
With scarcely a movement, he leans in and brushes my lips with his. “What was that for?” I whisper as he stares down at me. “Because…shit…I don’t know. I wanted to.” He sighs.
I twist my hands in my lap, my mouth saying something I don’t intend it to. “A guy has never given me an orgasm. I mean…I have had one, but not caused by an actual human male.”
His chest rises up and down in quick succession and he swallows. His eyes darken. “I see.”
I pick at one of the loose threads on my cardigan. He watches me. “Sometimes I wonder if the feeling itself is different, you know, with a guy. If it’s still that intense burst that goes off in your head and makes you warm and tingly.” I let out a ragged breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I think about it a lot. Who I want it to be…”
He stands abruptly. “Ryker?”
He opens his mouth to say something but then shuts it and takes off for the kitchen. I’m not even sure he knows where he’s going, so I hop up and
follow him.
“What’s going on?”
“I need some water. With ice, preferably.”
From behind him, I watch as he flings cabinets open and shuts them. “Glasses are on the right side, next to the fridge.” I move in closer in case
he needs help.
He opens the right one, grabs a glass, and fills it up with ice from the dispenser. Then he turns to the sink and starts filling up the glass. It overflows.
He doesn’t notice.
“It’s overflowing,” I say.
He curses and pours out some of the water then lifts the glass and drinks it down.
“Um, I have some Gatorade if you’re really thirsty.”
His shoulders are tense, and he hasn’t turned around, and my heart beats double time at the sparks in the air.
He sets the glass down on the counter and takes three huge breaths before facing me.
His expression is conflicted, a range of emotions flitting across his chiseled features. I can’t read them, and I suspect he doesn’t want me to.
I’m not sure what’s going on. I shake my head. “I’m sorry if I went too far. I’m just comfortable with you. It’s like we have this easiness when we’re together—”
“No, stop. This isn’t your fault.” His voice is husky.
I ease over to my sucker drawer and pull one out. I’m so fast, I have the wrapper off and the candy in my mouth in three seconds. I ignore the fact that my hands are shaking. “Want to tell me what’s going on then?”
He dips his head and rakes his hands through his hair. “Fuck. Red.” He says my nickname like it’s torturing him.
“What’s wrong?” I’m a little shrill now.
He sticks his hands in his pockets, looking unsure as he glances around the room. Anywhere except at me. “I shouldn’t be here.”
My jaw tightens. I enjoy him being here.
He scrubs at his jaw. “I just—don’t need a distraction right now. I have to keep my head in the game.”
“Why is me being a virgin a distraction to you?”
He groans. “It’s not—you are.” He waves his hands at me. “The whole vibe you have.”
“Me?” I walk closer, being tentative because he looks like he might bolt at any moment. “What do you mean?”
He tugs at the ends of his hair, clearly torn. “I’m into you, alright? I think about you a lot. That kiss… it gets to me.” He groans. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, about being with you—again and again.”
My heart races like a jet engine ready to launch. It’s so loud I’m sure he can hear it. I swallow hard. “Me? A girl who’s never actually seen… you know, outside of Tumblr?”
He nods, locking eyes with me. His gaze is intense. “Yeah, you. And I can tell you’re into me, Red. I see it during our little stare-downs. I definitely saw it when we talked about third base.” He leans closer. “Your pupils are dilated. You want me. Combine that with how I feel… it’s a dangerous mix.”
I stammer, aware he’s not wrong, but…
He fixes me with a piercing look. “Did you go to lunch with Connor?”
I think back to our conversation at Sugar’s when Connor texted me. “No, I had too much to do. Why? What do you mean?”
He narrows his eyes. “You know exactly what I mean. Do you really want him?” I stay silent, wary of giving too much away.
He exhales heavily. “I haven’t been with anyone since last semester—not since everything went down. It’s the longest dry spell I’ve had since I was a teenager.”
Oh.
“Four months,” he tells me.
“Is it because you can’t get it up?”
He throws back his head and laughs and then sobers. “Fuck no. I’m hard as nails right now. For you.”
I toss a glance down at his pants, and yep, there it is. My body gets hot.
“I just…I’ve been trying to focus on doing everything right with football…until you.” His ocean-colored eyes swirl with emotion. “And, dammit, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re a nice girl—a virgin, even—and I don’t know how the hell to deal with—”
“I don’t want to be hurt either, Ryker.” My chest feels heavy, as if someone has poured concrete on it.
“I won’t let it get that far, Red. We’re friends, and that’s something.” I watch as he seems to gather himself, shutting the cabinet door he left open and pushing his glass back from the edge of the counter. His eyes find mine. “It’s late. I need to go.”
I frown. “You’re leaving after that little bomb? Now?”
He gives me a curt nod, his jaw grinding as if he’s keeping words from coming out. “Goodbye, Red.”
And then he’s walking down the hall and opening my door and slipping into the night.
I’m rooted to the floor. I realize he didn’t even ask to see my journal when he won the bet.
But that doesn’t matter.
My breath catches as the truth hits me.
Ryker Voss hasn’t been with a girl in months, and I’m the one he wants. But he’s afraid.
I am too.
I don’t need a quarterback fucking up my life.
Tangled emotions rise up, and I suck in a shuddering breath. No matter what I tell myself, he’s stealing my heart, bit by bit, and it’s going to take everything I have to resist falling.
 |
The next day, I hop in my car and cruise to the Chi Omega house. Now that I have Ryker and Connor coming to the party, I signed up via email to help with the planning committee.
I park by the curb and waltz inside, putting my purse on the pink high- backed Queen Anne style armchair next to the door. My eyes take in the oak paneling, medallion wallpaper, and Victorian furnishings.
This place needs a Property Brothers makeover, but it’s the same one my mom pledged. My gaze lingers on the chair where I just dumped my purse. I’ve seen pictures of that very piece of furniture in my mom’s albums, and it makes me feel close to her. She was here…just like I am.
I hear crying as I walk down the hall. The sound comes from the common area where we have our meetings. Usually those doors are open, but today they’re closed.
I tap lightly on the wood. “Hello?”
When I don’t get a reply, I try the door, but it’s locked.
I chalk it up to sorority house drama when Keri, one of the pledges, appears next to me.
“It’s Margo,” she whispers furtively. I frown. “Our president?”
She nods. “She’s been in there for half an hour. We were talking about the theme for the party, and she just ran out of the meeting.”
I scratch my head. Margo’s the kind of girl who eats metal shavings for breakfast and spits them at girls she doesn’t like afterward. She never cries.
Keri shrugs. “The planning committee chairperson said we’d just proceed without her.”
“I wouldn’t count her out yet,” I say then nod my head toward the room past the kitchen, a sunroom where we have a copy machine, a couple of
laptops, and a bulletin board. “Why don’t you head back to the meeting, and I’ll meet you there.”
Keri wavers. “They sent me back here to report on how she is—” “Tell them she’s fine and will be there in a minute.”
Pledges. Margo and I may not be best friends, but we’ve been together for three years, and no freshman pledge is going to be talking about her and why she’s crying. She hasn’t been here long enough.
She reads my face and scurries off.
I tap on the door again. “Margo. It’s me, Penelope. Let me in.” “Go away.”
Her voice is wobbly, and I sigh. “As soon as you open the door.” I hear sniffling and guilt brushes over me.
“Open the door or I’m going to go get a hairpin and pick the lock, and you know, it might just mess up these old antique doors. I know how much pride you take in our house—”
The door flings open, and my mouth gapes at what I see. The normally coiffed and cool Margo is a mess with smudged mascara and stray hairs poking out from under her headband. Even her clothes are askew, as if she’s been lying down. My eyes take in a fuzzy blanket draped over the couch in the back along with a pile of potato chip bags and candy bar wrappers.
“Why do you care?” she snaps. “You’re a person, Margo. I care.”
She shrugs and flips around then takes a seat on one of the couches in the room. I follow her inside and shut the door, taking the seat next to her as I reach over and grab a wad of tissues off the cherry coffee table. I pass them over.
“Is this because I invited Ryker?”
She takes my offered Kleenex and dabs at her hazel eyes, the green in them more prominent when they’re wet.
She tugs her navy cardigan around her shoulders. “You stole him from me.”
I snort. “You embarrassed me in front of our whole sorority. Like you
really liked him anyway?”
“God, no.” She holds a hand to her chest as if the idea will give her a heart attack.
I smirk. “Exactly. I know your type. Wasn’t your ex some kind of uppity Mayflower descendent?”
“His name was Kyle. And yes.” She clams up, a stoniness taking over her expression.
I nod, recalling the details. “And you caught him with a Theta. Sasha? She’s their president, right? And you wanted Ryker on your arm so everyone will see him and it will get back to your ex…” My words drift off. “Am I
close?”
She wipes her nose. “Guess you really are the genius your dad says you are.” Her words are brittle.
I frown. “You’re jealous of me and my dad?” She shrugs. “You have everything, Penelope.”
I give her an incredulous look. “My mom is dead. I’m separated from her forever.” My voice grows louder. “Your mom is alive and well—and married to my dad.”
Margo swallows and looks away from me, shaking her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She looks down. “You’re all he talks about, you know. How smart and talented you are.”
I blink. Oh.
She bites her lip. “My dad can barely stand me.”
I shake my head. “Mine is just trying to make up for being shitty before.” “Well, don’t we make a fine pair then.” She picks at the green fabric on
one of the pillows and continues. “Love sucks and doesn’t last. Don’t our parents know that?”
“Maybe when you find the right one, it changes things.”
She tries to tuck her flyaway hairs back into her headband, and I reach over and help her. “I’m sorry…for causing a scene. I got so worked up when I came to the meeting, and it hit home that I don’t have a date.” She chews at her lipstick. “And I’m sorry about embarrassing you. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m not myself since Kyle.”
I nod, accepting her apology.
She blinks away more tears, clearly still thinking about something…
The soft side of me can’t take it. She is my stepsister, and perhaps there’s a thread of something between us that can pull us closer.
“You’re one of the smartest women I know.” A tiny smile flashes. “You really mean that?”
I adjust my glasses. “You took our academic standing to the top last year, and you weren’t even president. And Kyle is a douche.”
“An asshat with a stupid Rolex,” she says, her voice gathering strength. “And that Porsche he bought—trust me, he is totally compensating.”
I smile. This is the closest we’ve ever come to having a real conversation.
I stand. “We can sit here and cry or…” I nod toward the door. “Suck it up and get to work. Keri looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and odds are she’s planning on making SpongeBob SquarePants the theme of this party.”
Margo’s brows hit the roof. “Indeed.”
Of course, I’m exaggerating, but if that’s what it takes to get her claws back out…
I look at my nails. “Hmmm. Sometimes those pledges need to see who’s
boss. This might be one of those times.”
She straightens her shoulders. “They have no idea what kind of hissy fit I can throw.”
Amen, sister.
She stands and we walk out of the room together.
We aren’t exactly friends, but my gut says we definitely aren’t enemies either.
