Overnight Male (17 page)

“O
H, MAN, IT’S TOO BAD
you missed the party, Iris. You woulda loved it.”

“Yeah, they dumped Chuck in the middle of the living room like a bag of dirty laundry.”

“Yeah, dirty laundry without any pants or underwear in it!”

“Hey, I said shut up, you dicks, or I’ll tear you both new ones!”

From her position on the sofa in Nick’s suite, Iris rolled her eyes at Hobie and Donny, both seated on the floor, as they concluded with much laughter the story of Chuck’s party depantsing two nights ago. Chuck sat in a chair on the other side of the suite, deliberately having separated himself from the rest of them, his face tightened by anger and embarrassment…and something else that transcended both.

Served him right, the little prick—in more ways than one, evidently, Iris thought with some small satisfaction. Which, she thought further, would be all that Chuck would be able to provide with his little prick. She just wished Hobie and Donny could have suffered a similar indignity. After what Nick had told her the guys said about her, it was all Iris could do not to smack the crap out of all three of them. The only reason she hadn’t was that she didn’t want to compromise their project, and because Nick had assured her the guys had said what they had only to try to win points with him. Not that that had made her feel any better, but she didn’t want to make waves at this point, either. The sooner they finished building the virus for Nick, the sooner she could part ways with those assholes. And, you know, smack the crap out of them before she left.

Still, she couldn’t help smiling as Hobie and Donny added a few more details about just how itty-bitty Chuck’s widdle weewee was. As entertaining as it must have been, she was glad she hadn’t gone to the party after leaving the suggested three-way between her roommate and her roommate’s sleazy boyfriend. She’d had a much nicer time with Nick than she would have had at DUC house. In fact, the past few days with him had been some of the most enjoyable she’d had in years.

She just wished she knew what the past few days with him had been about. Although she’d spent a third night in his suite last night after they returned from dinner, he hadn’t pressed her for anything sexual, and she’d once again slept on the sofa bed in the living area. He hadn’t even kissed her good-night, something that had surprised Iris, considering the nice time they’d had together, and considering the way she’d seen him looking at her on more than one occasion. There was no mistaking his attraction to her. And he’d treated her to plenty of innocent touches, placing his hand at the small of her back as he followed her to their table in the restaurant, draping an arm casually across her shoulders as they strode to his car, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear when the evening breeze nudged it over her forehead.

But he hadn’t pursued anything more, even though she’d tried to make clear her interest. Maybe he was put off by her virginity, she thought. Maybe he was afraid she would take too seriously anything that happened between the two of them. Not that that would have anything to do with her virginity. Not that she wasn’t already taking seriously everything that happened between them.

She glanced over at Nick now and saw that he was in no way amused by the report of Chuck’s humiliation. Seated at the desk with his fingers steepled together, he was alternating his gaze between Hobie and Donny, who were closest to him, and Chuck on the far side of the room. But he was looking at all of them as if they were silverfish that had just crawled up from the bathtub drain. Because it was Sunday, he’d forgone his usual suit in favor of more casual attire—though, in Iris’s opinion, his khakis and navy polo still made him look formal and reserved, even if he had left the shirt untucked. And his dark expression did nothing to alleviate the image.

Chuck’s expression wasn’t much different, but he was glaring only at Hobie and Donny. “You dicks tell that story one more time, to one more person, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

“But it’s such a great story!” Donny objected, clearly unbothered by the threat. “I could tell it a million times.”

Hobie nodded his blond head enthusiastically. “Yeah, I never woulda guessed you had such a wee willie winkie, Chuck. What’d you do with the rolled-up sock you usually shove down your pants? Musta come as a huge surprise to the lady when she got a look at the real thing.”

“Nah, it was a
tiny
surprise,” Donny countered, laughing again. “A surprise about
th-i-i-i-s big.
” He held up his thumb and forefinger about a millimeter apart.

“You mean
th-a-a-a-t small!
” Hobie cried, doubling over again.

More uproarious laughter. More Chuck glaring. More Nick looking disgusted.

“It was shrinkage!” Chuck finally shouted, loud enough that Iris was fairly sure everyone on the hotel’s housekeeping staff heard. Even the ones who were off for the evening. “It happens to everybody. Haven’t you seen that
Seinfeld
episode?”

“Everyone’s seen that
Seinfeld
episode,” Hobie told him. “And every guy who has a needle dick just uses it for an excuse.
I’ve
never had a problem with shrinkage.”

Iris rolled her eyes again. Yeah, ’cause how could something that’s barely there to begin with get any smaller? Not that she had any personal knowledge of Hobie’s Incredible Nonshrinking Member. It was just obvious, that was all.

“Me neither,” Donny joined in. “I’ve never had that problem, either.”

Ditto, Iris thought. In fact, now that she thought about it, small physical endowments would explain a lot about this group. She looked at Nick and decided it explained why he was so different from the other guys, too. Not that she had personal knowledge of his supersize member, either. It was just obvious, that was all.

“You are so lame,” Chuck told the other guys.

“Better than being so limp,” Hobie replied.

“And a needle dick,” Donny added helpfully.

“I am
not
a—” Chuck began. But he cut himself off with an exasperated sound.

Although, Iris thought, maybe
cut himself off
wasn’t the best phrase to use here. All things considered.

“That was one smokin’-hot babe who took you down, though,” Hobie said, his voice so reverent, he could have been talking about the Second Coming. “I usually like ’em blond and blue-eyed, but I gotta say, she makes a strong argument for brown-eyed girls.”

“I don’t think her eyes are really brown,” Donny said thoughtfully. “I talked to her for a while, and you could tell she was wearing those colored contacts.”

“Naw,” Hobie disagreed. “If someone was gonna wear colored contacts, why would they pick brown? Hell, do they even
make
colored contacts in brown? Besides, her hair was dark, and dark hair and eyes always happen together.”

“You are so fulla shit,” Donny said. “I got a cousin with black hair and blue eyes. She was wearing contacts.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Hobie told him in an I’m-blowing-you-off-now voice. “She was smokin’ hot, no matter what color her eyes were.” Then, to Chuck, he added with a smile, “Too bad she doesn’t like needle dicks.”

Shaking his head and looking at no one now, Chuck said in a voice Iris had never heard him use before, one that frankly chilled her, “Man, if I
ever
get my hands on that bitch and her dick of a boyfriend, I’ll kill ’em both.”

“Yeah, and how you gonna do that, Chuckie?” Donny asked jovially, clearly not having noted the menace in Chuck’s voice that Iris had. “She’s just some chick you met in the library. And after what happened at the party, you can bet your ass she’s not going to come looking for you again.”

Iris had been sneaking peeks at Nick during the exchange—but, of course, she was always sneaking peeks at Nick when the group was together—and had noted the way his expression changed as the guys’ remarks moved from one subject to the next. At first he’d looked disgusted by the story. Then, as the group had talked about the mystery woman’s hotness, he’d become more interested. Though Iris told herself she had
not
felt a twinge of jealousy at how he’d become interested in the story only because of the introduction of a hot babe into it. Strangely, however, it was when Hobie mentioned the possibility of contact lenses that Nick’s attention had really become honed on the conversation. By the time Donny uttered the words “come looking for you again,” Nick’s eyes had narrowed and his lips had parted fractionally, as if there was something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

Finally, though, he repeated, “Looking for you again? Is that what you said, Hobie?” He directed his next question at Chuck. “Why was she looking for you the first time?”

All three guys looked at Nick, seeming surprised to find him in the room. Which was pretty much the way they always looked at him. Iris knew they didn’t take Nick very seriously. Certainly not the way she did. Not that she would expect any of them to be interested in him the way she was. But they weren’t interested in him in any other way, either. Sure, they gave the guy credit for organizing their group into something more than just a bunch of slackers looking to make mischief for fun and profit. Nick had focused them into a whole new direction, where making mischief for fun and profit was also promising to make them rich.

But the guys knew—and so did Iris—that Nick was only the glue holding them all together. And maybe he was the map by which they were guided, too. But he wasn’t the brains. He wasn’t the brawn. He wasn’t even the doer, truth be told, since the guys and Iris were always the ones creating and sending out the viruses and doing the hacking. Nick was the planner. He was the guy who found the targets. The one who watched their backs. He was important to the group, for sure. But he wasn’t essential. They all knew it. Probably Nick knew it, too. It was why he tolerated them when he so obviously disdained them—at least the guys.

Now the guys looked back at Nick with puzzled expressions. When none of them said anything, he repeated his question. “What makes you think she was looking for you a first time?
Was
she looking for you, Chuck? You specifically, I mean?”

“Dude, it was just a figure of speech,” Hobie said. “I don’t think she was really looking for Chuck that first time.”

Donny nodded. “Yeah, she just wandered into the computer lab one day when he was working. Needed some help with some of her homework or something. If Duncan had been working that day instead of Chuck, she woulda ended up at a party at TKE house.”

“And happier,” Hobie said. “Since everybody knows those TKE guys are hung like horses.”

“Shove it, Hobie,” Chuck said in that same voice that had sent a chill through Iris.

Finally, finally, the guys seemed to pick up on the threat lacing the third man’s voice, because they both stopped laughing mid-guffaw and threw Chuck a look that was more than a little concerned.

Nick seemed in no way bothered by Chuck’s sinister turn himself. “Are you sure?” he asked. “That she wasn’t looking for you specifically that day?”

Chuck’s puzzlement turned to something else then, something Iris wasn’t sure she wanted to identify. Mostly because it looked like something really, really scary. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean did she just show up out of nowhere at the library that day? Or is she someone you’ve seen around campus before?”

The three guys exchanged looks, then all shook their heads and replied that no, none of them had encountered her before the party Friday night, or, in Chuck’s case, at the library the day before.

Nick looked at Iris. “How about you? Any smokin’-hot brunettes among your circle of female friends?”

She shook her head. But then, she didn’t have a circle of female friends. She didn’t have a circle of friends at all. Especially now that she knew Chuck and Donny and Hobie thought so little of her. Iris wasn’t exactly a social person. Nor was she predisposed to trust people. Chuck, Hobie and Donny might have had their faults, but—until recently, anyway—she’d trusted them as much as she’d ever trusted anyone. She’d known them for three years now, and—until recently, anyway—none of them had ever screwed her over. But even with their having lied about her to Nick—assholes would be assholes, after all—in Iris’s book, the time she’d spent with the three of them was pretty much the same as childhood sweethearts celebrating their seventy-fifth wedding anniversary.

“But it’s a big campus,” Hobie said in response to Nick’s question. “She coulda been around and we just never saw her.”

Nick sat forward in his chair, dropping his hands into his lap now and studying each of the guys in turn. “Is the campus so big that you don’t notice a smokin’-hot babe when you see one?” he asked. “Waverly’s not exactly overrun with them. Most of the students are male, and most of the female students are pretty forgettable-looking.”

Iris’s back went up at that, her chin instinctively lifted and an indignant heat exploded in her belly.

“Present company excluded, Iris,” he added belatedly, moving his attention to her.

She had thought he would try to further patronize her by saying more and falling all over himself to apologize, but his voice was matter-of-fact, and his gaze was steady, and no apology was forthcoming. He didn’t look apologetic, either, which she decided must mean he didn’t feel apologetic. And if he didn’t feel apologetic, then it was because he didn’t think he had a reason to apologize. Which meant he was telling the truth when he said “Present company excluded” and wasn’t trying to backpedal his way out of anything. So he must really not have been including her in that “forgettable-looking” comment.

Or else it meant he was an even bigger dick than what the TKE guys were packing and didn’t care about her response to his statement at all, and she had placed her trust in a fourth man who thought very little of her.

She nodded disconsolately, dropped her gaze to the floor and blew out a weary breath. “Yeah. Right. Thanks. Whatever.”