Getting Lucky Number Seven (16 page)

I guess I should take comfort in the fact that Beck hadn’t hooked up with her in a while, even if that made me the target of her rage.

“Monica, you’ve had too much to drink,” Beck said, keeping his voice low. “This isn’t Lyla’s fault—she and I are just friends. I was up front about what you and I were doing from the beginning, and you said that was what you wanted, too.”

“You’re an asshole. All guys are such fucking assholes.” She wobbled and Beck reached out a hand to steady her. She jerked away, and whatever was in her cup sloshed over the edge. “Don’t come crawling back to me when you get bored with her.” With that, she walked away, every few steps sending her drifting farther to the right.

Beck scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry. I should’ve realized she’d turn into one of the clingy ones, regardless of what she claimed.”

Instead of trying to come up with a response, I wrapped my arms around my middle, wondering if eventually
I’d
just be one of the clingy ones, too.

“See, there’s another reason I came here with you. You’re so much cooler than other girls.”

Or was I more of a pushover who kept her feelings to herself?

Damn it, why can’t I go back to not worrying about this, and just having fun, no labels or pressure?
I forced my feelings into a dark corner to be explored later. We were at a party, and it was time I started acting like it. The beat from the music flowed through me, and I bobbed my head to it, bumping against Beck until he grinned. No matter what else was going on, seeing him smile made me feel better.

“Davenport!” Someone yelled across the room. “Get over here.”

We headed toward the guy waving him over. Apparently there was a big beer pong tournament going on, and they wanted to recruit Beck. Within a few minutes, teams had been drawn up and Beck was seated across the table from one of his other teammates.

I thought about mingling while he was playing, but thinking of being “on,” meeting new people and trying to make small talk exhausted me. And what would I do in the unlikely event of a guy hitting on me? Would Beck care? Either way, I wasn’t interested in dealing with it tonight. So I watched as Beck played, getting louder and more flushed with every drink.

“You want next?” One of the hockey players—Daniel, I think—asked me when his and Beck’s game wrapped up.

“Oh, I’m driving,” I said with a shrug.

Beck grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap. “She’ll play, and I’ll drink for her.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “You know that I’ve never played, right?”

“One more college experience to check off your list, then.”

“It also means I’ll miss a lot. And that you’ll have to drink a lot.”

“There are worse things that could happen. Now, go on.” Beck dropped the Ping-Pong ball in my hand. “Just aim for the middle until you get the hang of it.”

Aim. Right. It didn’t help that I was distracted by being on Beck’s lap, one of his arms loosely circled around my waist. It wasn’t really a boyfriend-girlfriend gesture—and it hadn’t happened until he’d gotten a buzz going—but at least I didn’t feel like he was embarrassed of me. In fact, I was feeling other things, and I might’ve rocked back and forth more than I needed to.

Beck had just finished yet another cup, thanks to my poor beer pong skills, when he brushed my hair aside, moved his mouth next to my ear, and whispered, “You’re killing me in this skirt. You know that, right?”

Goosebumps swept across my skin. I turned my head to his, our lips so close, and I wondered what he’d do if I kissed him in front of everyone. His hand circled my thigh, and want throbbed through me, making me crave being alone with him.

“My turn,” one of the guys yelled, and we were forced out of our seat. Beck pulled me aside, and with the way he was having trouble walking in a straight line, it was clear the drinks were catching up to him.

I’d never seen Beck really drunk before. He was giggly. Handsy. “You might have to carry me to my room tonight, Lyla. Make sure to take advantage of me.” He laughed, and I shook my head, laughing, too.

Maybe having the perfect boyfriend who got you and your humor, was happy about a long-term relationship, and gave you so many orgasms you could barely move afterward was a myth. Maybe you had to choose one or the other. A guy who wanted to be your boyfriend but was slightly boring or licked your chin, or the no-attachments guy with the sizzling physical chemistry.

With Beck moving closer, his hand sliding over the curve of my butt, I’d have a hard time saying which I wanted more—my hormones were screaming too loud to consider the safe boyfriend option.

So maybe I’m learning I’m more of a relationship person than a no-strings sex buddy, but I can hold back my expectations and that longing for more for a little while if it means more time having this.

Besides, the safe choice failed me before. Might as well know the danger before it unexpectedly dumps me on my butt.

“You know why else I wanted to come here with you?” Beck asked.

I looked up into his half-lidded eyes and then went ahead and ran my hand down his cheek the way I wanted to. “Why?”

“This is my last season of hockey, and I wanted to celebrate the end of the regular season right. Our regional matchup is against a tough team with a better record, and honestly, it could be my last game ever.”

My heart tugged at the sadness weighing down his words. “Wait? What? Why wouldn’t you play hockey next year?”

“Family stuff. I might need to stay in Canterbury. Start learning more of the business.” He wound his fingers through my hair. “I’ll miss you if that happens. You’re the only person I can really talk to. Around you, I get to be just me.”

So much of what he was saying confused me, but that last line hit me hard. He was the only person I got to be just me around, too. Whether it was the cat pictures, chemistry jokes, or the hidden side of me that I’d never shared with anyone before—the side that wanted to conquer my fears and be bolder. To embrace my sexuality and experience all the things I had with him. Because of him, really.

So instead of holding back and questioning if it broke the rules of our arrangement, I tipped onto my toes and pressed my lips to his. As he drew me closer and deepened the kiss, I closed my eyes and melted into him until the music, the crowd, and all my worries and cares faded away.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Beck

My heart pounded in time to the loud music, the bass echoing through me as I ran my hands down Lyla’s fine ass, pulling her closer and swirling her tongue with mine. She slid one of her legs between mine and I moaned into her mouth. My thoughts went fuzzy as she lightly bit at my bottom lip.

There really was something different about Lyla lately. It wasn’t just the hair or the clothes or her goal to be bolder—maybe that’s what it’d taken me to finally see her, and I felt like a chump about it. More than that, though, she finally understood the power she possessed, and in turn, power over a guy like me, who’d do pretty much anything she asked right now. She was more confident and hands-on than she’d ever been, and it drove me wild.

I’d been trying to keep the lines to sex or friends, none of this in between stuff, but with her breaths becoming mine, her tongue stroking mine until my body burned with the need to have her, I didn’t care anymore.

When we came up for air I glanced around—there’d probably already be other couples hooking up in every room. We could wait for them, but then someone might bang on the door and interrupt us, and I didn’t want to be interrupted, or for her to hold back. At this rate, though, I wasn’t sure I could make it all the way to my apartment.

Lyla ran her hands up my chest, and her hot breath hit my neck a moment before her lips did. “You wanna get out of here?”

My cock leaped at the suggestion. Then she ran her hand over the bulge in my pants and I nearly came right there. “Feels like you do.”

I’d created a monster. A beautiful, sexy monster. All I could do was nod and follow her closely as she started through the crowd, trying not to sway too much and failing.

In the parking lot I went to step over a concrete divider, and the next thing I knew I was eating pavement, my knees and hands stinging.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Lyla said, squatting next to me and putting her hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? If I had realized you were having that much trouble walking, I would’ve stuck closer so I could catch you.”

“Catch me? I would’ve crushed you, Lyla.”

“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you the way you did me when I was drunk, and, well…” She clamped her lips as she took me in, and then she laughed. She quickly covered her mouth with her hands. “I’m sorry, now that I know you’re okay, it’s…” She laughed again, her shoulders shaking. “I’m just glad I’m not the only one to make a fool of myself when I’m drunk.”

“Fool of myself?” I pushed up to my knees and wiped gravel from my torn up palms. “What are you talking about? I’m suave as shit.”

This got another round of giggles, and she laughed so hard that she braced herself against me to keep from tipping over. That made
me
laugh, and then we were two idiots laughing in the middle of a parking lot, our clouded breaths filling the air around us. Wiping tears from her eyes, she straightened and held out a hand. I took it and let her pull me up. Then I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. She put hers around my waist and leaned her head on my shoulder.

“You’re perfect in your not perfect,” she said, kissing my cheek.

I wasn’t sure if it was being drunk that made the words hard to put together, or if she wasn’t making sense, but I liked the way she said it anyway.

…

“I think you need to come meet with the lawyer over your spring break, Beckett,” Aunt Tessa said when I answered the phone. Lately, she’d been on me to do it, and I kept putting it off, telling her I’d take care of it over the summer.

“Why doesn’t he just run it by you?” I asked as I continued on my way across campus—I’d spent an hour in the weight room after practice, so my arms and legs felt like jelly. “I don’t know enough to make those kinds of decisions.”

“He says another lawyer has a client who insists on meeting with you as soon as possible. I asked him what it’s about, and he said he doesn’t know, but that the woman insists on meeting with you in person, and claims it’s a family matter, not business.”

That was probably what those calls from Mr. Hawthorne, my dad’s lawyer—and I suppose mine—were about. At first I thought Megan had gotten herself into trouble again. Once I’d heard another person’s lawyer demanded a meeting, I blew it off. If this was my last semester at BC I wanted to be living in the moment, not have one foot in the business, doing a half-assed job at both things.

I pushed into the library, and the woman at the front desk glared at me and pointed at the cell phone. “I gotta go. I’ll come down next week. Will you set the meeting up for me? Just nothing too early in the morning.”

“I think that’s the right choice,” Aunt Tessa said, the relief in her voice clear. These days, almost every sentence she said to me started with “I think,” followed by a long list of everything I needed to take care of, and it was all apparently urgent. I appreciated her holding back till now at least. I could tell the stress of making decisions in a company she had no desire to be part of was wearing on her. I wanted to say, “Welcome to my world,” but it wasn’t her responsibility, it was mine. Without her helping out with Megan, I’d have to say good-bye to even more of my independence, so the least I could do was take care of whatever this was.

“Young man.” The librarian had followed me. “
No
cell phones.”

Aunt Tessa had already disconnected the call anyway. I showed the woman that I was putting it in my pocket and made my way to the second floor. I scanned the desks until I found the messy bun held up by a pencil. Lyla had recently dyed it again—something about roots showing—so it was extra bright. She had on the chunky brown frames she wore when she’d been studying for so many days in a row that her eyes couldn’t deal with contacts anymore.

I came up behind her, ran my hands down her arms, and kissed her cheek. “I thought I’d find you here.” Ever since she’d scored a low B on her literature test, she’d freaked out and started logging in crazy long study hours—the other night I’d had to pry the book out of her hand and drag her into the bedroom to get her mind off classes for a while.

“It feels like I live here lately.” She tipped her head back to give me access to her neck, and I took advantage, kissing her soft skin. Since the party a few weeks ago, things had been more like this. What I imagined most relationships were like, but with us, there was no pressure or questions like, “Why didn’t you call me?” or “Where are you?” with our lives revolving around each other. And we still hadn’t spent an entire night together, although I’ll admit I’d been tempted to ask her to stay a couple of times, not wanting to let go of having her next to me all night. Which was the exact reason it was important to keep my mouth shut about it.

“So come over,” I said. “I’ll even order pizza with your completely unnecessary, nasty warmed-up tomatoes on top.”

“Mmm. That sounds amazing. But I have to meet this guy at my place in an hour.”

My muscles tensed, even as I told myself to be cool. “A study buddy?”

“No, a friend who’s got a friend who does tattoos, so he said he can get me a deal. We’re going to check out the shop and then I’ll probably make an appointment.”

Jealousy spiked through me, and all those possessive-relationship-type questions I thought we were above ran through my head.
Where’d you meet this douche? Why didn’t you call me? Am I supposed to buy this “just a friend” shit?

“Why do you have your serious hockey face on?” Lyla asked, spinning in her chair to face me, one leg tucked up against the back.

I shook away the thoughts trying to turn me into a crazy person and looked down at her. “I don’t. I knew you’d decided on the tattoo and getting it on your hip, but I didn’t realize you’d picked out a place.”

She grabbed my hand and laced her fingers through mine, which helped the stinging heat pumping through my veins cool a bit. “I haven’t. I was just talking to Jason about his tattoos when I saw him in the cafeteria today—he’s got them all up his arms and on his chest and ribs…”

The toxic heat returned. How’d she know about the tattoos on his chest and ribs? I’d always thought I was above this jealousy shit, but all I could think of now was Lyla with some tatted-up dude. The envy I’d felt before we hooked up was nothing compared to the punch that hit me now. I wanted to tell her she couldn’t go, which I knew she didn’t deserve—she could go anywhere with anyone she wanted. The caveman side of me didn’t care right now, though.

“…going to text you to see if you wanted to go with us, but then I got caught up in studying and forgot about it.”

Forgot. I didn’t like that she could just forget to text me either. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me, but it blew. I wanted to claim her as mine. Wanted to go with her to ensure
Jason
knew she was taken. But I wasn’t sure I could go without making an ass out of myself.

Panic emerged and sunk its hooks into me. I was getting in too deep. Getting attached and jealous and relying on her, which felt disastrously close to relationship territory, and relationships ended in disaster. Sleeping with her was supposed to get her out of my system, but now I wasn’t sure that was even possible. Which meant I should… What? Put space between us? Hook up with other girls but not attack guys if Lyla tried to do the same?

“If you’re busy tonight, no worries,” she said. “I’ll definitely want you there when I get the tattoo, though. I’m going to hold onto your hand so tightly that you’ll lose circulation—I feel that’s only fair since I’ll be dealing with the pain of the tattoo.”

“Wait? I have to feel pain if you do?”

She nodded. “’Fraid so. It’s in the BFF handbook. And besides, you’ll probably see it more than anyone else, anyway, so that makes you doubly responsible for helping me through it.”

I wanted to be the
only
one who saw it. That was a dangerous line of thinking, though, so I focused on the fact that she’d said
BFF
. It reminded me she didn’t want attachments either—it was part of the new her, and the girl was serious about her goals. The panic flooding my system cooled and retreated. Overanalyzing would only ruin everything we had, and what we had was the best of both worlds, so why mess with it?

Not to mention, I needed the friend side of her that knew me better than anyone else right now—more than I ever had. “Do you have any plans for spring break?” I asked.

“My parents hinted they’d like a visit, and apparently Miles is going to be in town—he was so excited our breaks coincided—but all I really want to do is relax.” She tugged on my T-shirt, pulling me close, and whispered, “And maybe have lots of sex with this hot guy I know.”

First I was going to be Rude Cell Phone Dude in the library, and now I was going to be the sexual deviant walking around with a tent pitched in his pants. I liked her plans for spring break much better than mine. I knew being at home and dealing with everything I needed to would suck, just like I knew there was one thing that’d make it less sucky. “I have to go to New Hampshire.”

“Oh. Guess I’ll have to find another guy, then.” She shrugged, a teasing smile on her face—it better be teasing.

“Not funny.” It was as close as I’d get to admitting I didn’t want her with anyone else, but hopefully it was enough.

“Maybe I’ll drive the three and a half hours home, then.” She sighed. “It’s the opposite of girl gone wild, but I can’t be a party animal all the time, right?”

“Or…” I took her hand and brushed my thumb across the back of it. “You could come with me. I’ve got to take care of some family crap, but it shouldn’t take too much time, and then we could kick back and do the other thing you mentioned.”

“You want me to go home with you?”

My heartbeat kicked up a few notches, the panic wedging its way back in. “To hang. Yeah.”

“Right. I just meant, you don’t usually talk about your family. And you still haven’t explained why you might not be coming back next year, and—”

I pressed my mouth to hers, giving her a quick kiss. “Don’t make it into a big deal. Just say you’ll come.”

I could see all the thoughts tumbling through her head, so clear on her face. She wanted to know more than I wanted to tell. Once we were in Canterbury, it’s not like I could hide much of anything about my life anymore, but in some ways it’d be easier to just show her. Risky, too, considering my emotions might get the best of me with the constant barrage of memories of my parents, the reality of the situation so close. Still, I’d take her by my side over doing it alone. By the end of dealing with all the decisions I had no idea how to make, I’d need someone to make me laugh and forget about everything else for a while.

“Beck, I…” She exhaled and I prepared myself for her to say no—I’d dealt with it myself this long. Surely I could manage another week. But then she squeezed my hand. “Of course I’ll go with you.”