I like having her here.
The house wouldn’t be the same without her.
It certainly wouldn’t smell as good.
“No more drama, I promise.”
Anabelle
I beat Rex Gunderson to class.
Unfortunately, there are far too many open seats available, including two on each side of me, presenting him with the perfect opportunity for him to plop down next to me when he finally gets here.
I’m seated halfway up, in a middle row, a bird’s eye view when he strolls through the door at the front of the room.
He’s wearing a different version of the same outfit I’ve seen him in every class: khakis, an embroidered Iowa wrestling polo, brown belt, tennis shoes. If he’s trying to look the part of a team manager, he’s certainly doing a bang-up job.
Rex reaches my row, shimmying his way down the aisle until he’s pulling a desk next to me, inching it closer, close enough that I can smell a heavy-handed dose of aftershave and notice the hairs on his chin he missed while shaving.
He’s still wet from his shower, shaggy dark hair falling in damp, sloppy strings.
“Hey. Thanks for saving me a seat.” He yawns.
“I wasn’t saving you a seat.”
He sighs. “You know what I mean.”
“I was just stating the obvious, Reginald.”
He narrows his eyes. “I hate that nickname.”
“It’s actually not a nickname, so…”
I’m being a brat and don’t even care.
“If we’re going to be friends, you’ll have to call me Rex.” His grin is patronizing, and I’m embarrassed that I ever found it charming.
It’s not.
It’s strange and annoying and it makes me want to pop him right in the kisser.
“Did you get the notes I emailed you from class?”
Before I discovered what a sleaze he is, I borrowed lecture notes from him. Our professor talks really fast, and I never took pictures of the projection screen, so I had Rex email me his.
“Yes, I did. Thank you.” My lips purse.
Fiddling with the laptop, I decide to take notes longhand instead since I’m quicker at it than typing on a keyboard.
“Busy weekend?” he asks, making small talk.
“No.”
Short, sweet, and to the point.
Maybe he’ll get the hint and stop talking.
“What do you have going on tonight?” He leans in closer, shooting me a flirtatious smile. “Feel like doing something?”
Wait—is he going to ask me out? “What are you suggesting?”
“You’re new to town. I could show you around.”
“Yeah? Where would you take me? Because I’ve already been to the park, a house party, and the mall.”
He scratches his neck. “That doesn’t leave us with many options.”
I stare straight ahead at the whiteboard, eyes scanning the previous class’s notes, acting bored. “Not many options? That’s too bad.”
“What about a date or something?”
“A date? With you?”
“Yeah, I could take you out. We could go dancing or something.”
“Dancing? Where?”
“Mad Dog Jacks has a dance floor.”
“Mad Dog Jacks?” I let the sound of indecision enter my voice, pursing my lips. “Isn’t that a biker bar?”
“It used to be.”
“But it’s still a bar, right?”
“Sure, but they have a dance floor.”
I tap on my chin, pretending to ponder his offer. “Hmm, let me think about it.”
“Take your time. We have the entire class.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
Gunderson winks. “No problem, babe.”
Babe.
Gag me.
Elliot
“Knock, knock.”
“Door’s open.”
Literally, it’s wide open—I have no idea why Anabelle is actually knocking.
She appears in the doorway, fully dressed to go downtown, looking fucking fantastic, not at all casual like she did for her night out with the girl from her class.
My stomach drops and I sit up straighter in the middle of my bed, where I’ve been studying, transcribing notes for a class I’ve been struggling to ace, thinking that maybe when I was finished, Anabelle and I would spend the rest of the night watching movies or playing a game, or maybe go for a drink.
Together.
“You’re going out? I thought we could do something later.”
“We were, but then Rex asked me out—dinner and dancing—and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to feel him out a little. You know, do a little reconnaissance work? Kind of like an undercover FBI mission where I infiltrate enemy territory. See if it’s worth my time to get back at the smarmy bastard.”
“Oh.” I flop back against my headboard. “That’s cool.”
Passive aggressive much, Elliot?
Anabelle’s brows shoot up. “Why are you saying it like that? Do you want me to stay home? Because I will. We can hang out.”
That’s even worse—Anabelle would sit on the couch with me out of some twisted obligation? Because I sound pathetic? No thank you. Hard pass.
“No. Whatever, it’s fine—I’ve got to catch up on this.” I hold up the exercise science textbook I’m reading. “This class is kicking my ass.”
She raises her arms, hands smacking her thighs on their way back down, exasperated. “Seriously Elliot? Science on a Friday night?”
“I’m trying to graduate with my GPA intact, Donnelly, so I can get into a stellar grad school. This shit is hard.”
“You can take one night off to have some fun.”
She has a point. “I suppose. Maybe I’ll see what the guys are up to.”
“That’s the spirit. Anyway, I just wanted to know what you think of this outfit for tonight. Is it too casual?”
Too casual? Ugh. Yeah, no.
Tight jeans, high black boots. Black fitted shirt. Dark, long hair down, messy. Glossy lips.
Anabelle looks both conservative and smoking hot at the same time.
“I thought you said this date was fake.” This sure as shit looks like a real date outfit to me, the way she’s fussing about her clothes and touching her hair.
“It is.”
“Then why…” my voice trails off.
She props her hands on her waist, jutting out her hip. “Why what?”
“What’s with the outfit?”
She looks down the front of her shirt. “What’s wrong with it? It’s just jeans and a shirt.”
Maybe, but her tits look fantastic.
“Nothing is wrong with it. You look nice.”
Anabelle laughs, poking a big hoop earring through the hole in her ear and tightening the back. “I thought the whole point of going on a date was to look nice for the other person.”
“That’s the point when the date is real.”
She pulls a face. “Why are you being weird? Rex is a complete douche, but I have a feeling he’s harmless, and I want to find out.”
Harmless?
Is she for real? “You’re fucking with me, right? I thought we established the guy is only trying to get into your pants to win a bet, and now you’re getting all dressed up for him. That’s all I’m saying.”
“He is a douchebag, but I mean, it might be worth it to go out with him, just to see? I feel like his whole problem is Eric Johnson, and that’s the guy I have to watch out for. He was super pushy that day in the gym.”
“What do you mean, super pushy?” The hair on the back of my neck prickles.
She fiddles with the silver hoop in her right ear. “Elliot, if we get into the whole story right now, I’m going to be late.”
Late for her fake date.
I let out a puff of pent-up, frustrated air.
“You think Johnson will be there tonight?”
“I don’t know…I hope not. Rex thinks this is a date, so I’m assuming he won’t want his friends around. I’ll cut him some slack, there’s no harm in that.”
Is she fucking serious? The more she talks about it, the more pissed off I get thinking about the whole damn situation.
“Are you so lonely and desperate you’re willing to give this guy a chance? He’s an asshole, Ana. Everyone on campus fucking knows it.”
“Desperate? Wow, Elliot, that was low.” She stands in the doorway of my room, hands on her hips. “I’m not giving him a chance, so screw. You.”
Shit. That was a really dick thing to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“How about you worry about your own crappy relationship problems and let me worry about mine, okay?”
“I have a crappy relationship? I don’t have a girlfriend—what are you talking about?”
“Precisely.” Anabelle scoffs, nose tipping into the air with a sniff. “These walls are thin, you know. I might be across the hall, but I hear everything.”
They are? She can?
I sit up straighter, adjusting the reading glasses on my face. Set down the book I’ve been holding. “Like what?”
Her shoulders shrug.
“Why are you shrugging?” What does that mean?
She inspects her nails. “I just know you have a lot of time to yourself, if you know what I mean. Maybe if you put yourself out there, Elliot—if you were in a relationship, you wouldn’t have to…you know.”
When she lifts her head, her brows are raised, both of our gazes sliding down my torso to the flaccid dick lying against my thigh—the dick she obviously hears me jerking in the middle of the night from across the hall.