Her fingers curl into mine reflexively. “Right.”
Downstairs we find everyone spread through the open concept kitchen and living area. A row of windows behind the sectional in the living room has a view of the woods and surrounding mountains. There’s a large deck with the hot tub Murray’s excited about.
“For the birthday boy.” Jude holds out a Zombie Dust.
“Thanks, dude.” I take it gratefully, taking a drink.
“What about you, milady?” He turns his attention to Vanessa wearing his most charming smile and ‘I want to fuck you’ eyes.
“Don’t look at my girl like that,” I threaten.
He laughs. “Why don’t you just pee around her?”
“Oh, ew.” Vanessa’s makes a disgusted face like she smells something sour. “Please, don’t go getting any ideas.”
“No to golden showers, got it. I’m taking notes here, babe.”
She mock gags. “Please never ever utter those words again.” She extracts her hand from mine. “I’ll get my own drink, but thanks, Jude.”
She joins the others in the kitchen, laughing at something Zoey says and my chest eases a bit, glad that she’s already getting more comfortable.
“You’ve got it so fucking bad for her.” Jude laughs at my side, smiling in amusement. “I still can’t believe you guys pretended to have sex in your room for my benefit. Are you sure it was fake, because it sounded pretty fucking real?”
“Trust me,” I take a gulp of beer, “it was fake. I haven’t had sex since the summer.” Jude spits beer on me. I level him with a glare. “Really, dude?”
“Summer was practically a year ago. That’s … that’s forever. How’s your dick holding up?”
“I don’t want to talk about my dick.”
“That bad, then?”
“Yeah.” I go to take another drink and realize I’ve already downed the whole thing. I don’t want to get shit-faced, so I don’t make a move to get another one yet.
Feet pound down the steps, and I look over my shoulder, snorting at the vision of Murray in a speedo, swim cap, and goggles. “Hot tub time.” He rubs his hands together.
“You need all that for the hot tub?” Cree cackles from the kitchen, shaking his head.
Murray sweeps a hand over himself. “Don’t knock my style.”
Then he strides right out the door, the Australian not at all bothered by our howling laughter.
“Jesus,” Jude snorts, “if this wasn’t my first drink, I’d be positive I was drunk.” Returning to our early conversation, despite the fact I was hoping he’d drop it, he asks, “Do you think this weekend will make a difference for you two?”
My eyes stray to Vanessa in the kitchen, she pops a grape in her mouth and says something to Cree. Jealousy stirs in my stomach, but I know it’s stupid. Cree would never make a move on Vanessa knowing how I feel.
“I doubt it,” I admit, and the honesty in my own words burns me from the inside out. As much as I want more, she doesn’t, and I wouldn’t push her to give more than she wants to.
Jude sends me a pitying look that makes me want to catch fire on the spot. I don’t want anyone’s pity. I’m a big boy. Rejection sucks, but I can handle it.
Unable to help myself, my gaze strays to the kitchen again where Vanessa tosses her head back and laughs.
“Do you ever think you’ll have a serious relationship again?”
Jude scrubs a hand over his stubbled face, thinking about his answer. “Yes, one day. I enjoyed being in a relationship, but I got real fucking hurt and why not have some fun while I can? Being broken-hearted sucks, but I’m not jaded enough to think I won’t find happiness with someone else. I think it’ll be a long time, though, before I want to settle down.”
“So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”
He gives me a puzzled look. “No, man. When you know, you fucking know, and I see the way you look at her. If you’re certain she’s the girl for you, don’t give up. You’ll regret it if you do.”
“Thanks for the advice.” I mean it, too.
Grabbing a fresh beer, I take Vanessa’s hand and pull her away from the others.
She can assume that every touch, glance, and kiss is fake, but I know, and so do my friends that I’m trying to convince her that this is for keeps.
26
Vanessa
My damp hair hangs like a curtain around my face, dripping onto the cotton of my over-sized t-shirt. I’m exhausted after a full day spent hiking and exploring the area around the cabin—although, calling this place a cabin is a joke. It’s large and posh, with gleaming hardwood floors, chandeliers, and a massive stone fireplace in the center of the family room. I have no idea what Mascen paid for this place for just two nights, but it has to have been expensive. We head back to school tomorrow afternoon, and while I originally thought I’d be clamoring to leave, I’ve actually enjoyed myself, and I love Teddy’s friends. You can tell they all get along and care for each other like a family of bandits who’ve chosen to build a life together.
Opening the bathroom door, I find Teddy already in bed. His long legs are stretched out on the mattress, crossed one over top of the other. He’s still on his iPad like he was when I went to shower, going over notes from his coach.
I wish I could say sharing a bed with Teddy felt weird, but it’s annoyingly easy, and I’m worried I’m going to have a hard time sleeping without him when I return to my dorm.
He looks up from the iPad, eyes roaming over me. They narrow on my tangled hair and the brush in my hand.
“I forgot my detangler.”
Teddy sets the iPad off to the side while I rummage through my bag for the bottle I need.
“Bring it here,” he commands when I have it in hand.
“What?” I blink owlishly at him.
That sweet, perfect grin, the one I wish didn’t make my stomach tilt, flashes at me as he spreads his leg and points at the space between them.
“Come sit and I’ll brush your hair.”
“Y-You’re going to brush my hair?” I stutter, stunned.
He shrugs. “Sure, why not.”
I walk over to him with careful, measured steps like I’m approaching a wild animal with caution. I pass the detangler and brush to him, pointing at the bottle. “I only put a dime size amount in my hair.”
“Okay.”
Heart racing, I seat myself between his spread legs. Desire pools low in my belly, and I curse my body for reacting to him. I need to be stronger than this. He’s just a guy.
He squirts some of the detangler onto his hands and works it into the long strands of my hair, his long fingers working the product through it with ease. I practically purr at the first stroke of the brush. He’s gentle, careful not to pull at any of the knots. He takes his time, working them out, infinitely more patient than I tend to be.
“That feels so good,” I practically moan when he works his fingers into the back of my neck.
“You like that, huh?” His chest vibrates against me, and I gasp when his lips caress the side of my neck.