“You said you didn’t want pizza. We’re having pasta. Go wash up.”
After Dad and I finish eating, I help him clean up. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I tap my fingers on the counter while I wait for him to wash a dish. Slowly. So slowly. I eye the bowl on the table covered in foil. Em’s dinner is getting cold.
I clear my throat and Dad smiles.
Picking up the towel, I twist it in my fingers and reach out for the bowl still clasped in Dad’s hands.
He sighs. “Just go.”
“Really?” My eyebrows lift and my voice is hopeful.
“Yes. Just don’t get caught.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Are you coming home?”
I force out a laugh. “What do you mean? Of course.”
He leans against the counter and stares at me. “I know you sneak over there and stay the night once a year.”
My eyes are like saucers. Wide open and unblinking. He knows. How?
“I’m not stupid. And I’m not going to tell you to stop, just don’t get caught or cause that poor girl any more trouble.”
I nod, spin around, pick up my ball, Em’s dinner, and run up the stairs two at a time. Quickly shoving a pillow and blanket into my bag along with the bowl of pasta, I peer out my window to find Em sitting by hers again.
I throw the bag over my shoulders and climb out onto the roof, making the same jump I did before, only better. I don’t slip and Em doesn’t freak out.
“I brought food.” I grin and hold up my bag. Her stomach rumbles, and she places her hands over it to mute the sound. “Maybe I should have brought more.”
Her laugh is soft and forced, almost embarrassed. When I hand Em the bowl, she brings it to her nose and breathes it in.
“Sorry it’s not pizza.”
“It’s perfect.”
While she sits down and eats, I pull my blanket and pillow out of my bag and set up a bed on the floor.
“You’re staying?”
I kick off my shoes. “If that’s okay?”
Em yawns. “Yes,” she whispers.
It’s not late, definitely too early for bed, but she climbs into bed and switches off her lamp once she finishes eating.
It’s not long before her breathing changes and she’s asleep. Meanwhile, I’m tossing and turning, trying to count sheep, pretending to sleep until I do fall asleep, but it’s not working because I keep wondering why glue doesn’t stick to the inside of the bottle.
I eventually fall asleep but it doesn’t last long. The sound of Em wimpering wakes me. I sit up and rub my eyes. She sobs into her pillow, and I scramble across the floor to her bed. Reaching for her arm I try to comfort her, but she cries harder.
I climb onto the bed beside her and wrap my arm around her, trying to comfort her in any way I can. She buries her head against my chest and her cries slow down. “It’s okay.”
Em sniffs and squeezes me tight, her crazy red hair tickling my chin. “Thank you.”
“What happened?”
Her voice is scratchy and quiet. “Bad dream, I guess. I don’t know. It happens all the time.”
“You okay now?”
She shrugs. I push myself up to move back to my bed on the floor, but she stops me. “Wait until I fall asleep. I’m scared.”
“Okay,” I say and wriggle down onto her pillow to get more comfortable.
1
Colt
I roll out of bed, pull off the condom and drop it in the bin. Grabbing a clean pair of boxers from my drawer, I twist around to face Eliza lying in my bed naked. She stretches her arms above her head, a soft smile on her face.
“What are you doing?” She purrs like a cat, stretching her body out and trailing a pink manicured finger across my abs. Biting back a teasing smile, she flicks the waistband of my boxers and twirls her hair around her finger. A soft giggle escapes her too-plump lips.
If she’s attempting to be sexy, she’s failing. It comes across as nothing more than pathetic. Sexy is hard to get. It’s alluring. Smart. Sassy. It’s not sliding your hands into my shorts on the first date and licking my ear, and it sure as hell isn’t staying in my bed unwelcome.
“You need to go,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet. The entire night was a fucking disaster. I’m sure whatever we did doesn’t qualify as sex, and I’m still a goddamn virgin.
At twenty, I don’t have a clue how sex happens because, as unfortunate as it is, I freak girls out with my impulsive behavior and lack of desire to hear about their friends, their hair, who is hooking up with who, or whatever the latest gossip is.
“What?” Eliza pushes up on her elbows and runs a hand through her hair; still trying to be seductive.
I frown. Where is my basketball when I need it? Picking my shorts up off the floor, I yank them on. My skin crawls as I glance back at Eliza and shiver. I feel dirty. Used.
“You need to leave.” And I need a shower after she violated my poor thigh.
She stares at me with wide eyes like I’m losing my mind.
What’s so hard to understand? Sure, we’ve been on a few dates, but I never held her hand, never put my arm around her. Hell, I never kissed her, not while she was humping my leg like a dog or when we went on dates. That alone should be enough of a giant red flag waving in her face. What does she expect from me? If I don’t want to kiss her, why would I have any desire to keep her in my bed after that shit show?
“You’re kidding, right?” Her breathy laugh comes out as a wheeze, like she’s having an asthma attack. No one rejects Eliza Evans. Ex-cheerleader. Model wannabe. Social media influencer—whatever the fuck that means.
“Nope. It’s my last night. I’m busy,” I say, peeling back my blinds and peering across at Em’s window. It’s open and her light’s on. A smile tugs at my lips.
She’s waiting for me. I need to get Eliza the fuck out of my room so I can spend my last night in town with Em. We’re both getting the hell out of this place in the morning, but I still want to spend my night with her. Need to spend my night with her. It’s the way we do things. Always have.
I haven’t spent a night without her in nine years and I’m not starting now. Not for Eliza.
“You have plans with someone other than your girlfriend the night before you leave for college?” Eliza sits up, letting the sheet slip down to her waist. She arches her back, one last attempt at seducing me.
My dick trembles. Pretty sure he weeps in fear.
She isn’t my girlfriend.
“That’s what I said.”
I pull the covers off the bed, not caring about Eliza still wrapped in them. There’s no way Emerson will sleep in my sex sheets. Her words, not mine. She warned me of that the moment I started dating Eliza.
‘If you sex her, make sure you shower and change your sheets. I don’t want your sex sheets touching me. Gross’, she’d said.
I laughed at the time because I had convinced myself Eliza would bail before the end of the first date like all the rest. She surprised both me and Em when she didn’t. She stuck around for a couple of weeks.
Doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend though. What kind of girl hangs around a guy who pays more attention to the basketball in his hands than her? Someone desperate for attention or trying to prove a point. Eliza is the latter. She wants to do the impossible; sink her teeth and claws into the elusive Colton James.