The Game Series (25 page)

“You really want to know?” I glance between them, and they nod. “Okay, we were six and it was fall. We’d spent all weekend collecting conkers for school on Monday, and I had the perfect one. Braden always won against me, but I’d won our practice battle on the way to school with it. There was this boy who had a kiddie crush on me – Adam Land. I challenged him to a conker fight and won. He hated being beaten by a girl, so threw another one at my head. Braden jumped on him and bit him.”

“He bit him?!” Maddie shrieks, and Lila laughs.

I put my hand to my mouth and giggle silently as I nod. “He bit him so hard he drew blood. His mom went crazy when the principal called her.”

“That’s brilliant. I wish my brother would have done that. He would have laughed,” Lila muses.

“Okay, now I’m really glad I talked him into going tomorrow no matter how worried I am about it.” Maddie tries to muffle her giggles.

“Does this mean I get to see a different side of Megan?” Lila asks, a glint in her eyes.

“Hey, it doesn’t mean I’m gonna grab some guy by his collar and drag him to bed just because Braden isn’t here.” I drop my eyes to the floor. “Maybe.”

Besides, I flit through a perpetual state of love-hate where the guy I want to take to bed is concerned. I live the Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy kind of love in
Pride and Prejudice
. Luckily enough everyone else only sees the hate.

The fact crazy little butterflies fire up in my stomach whenever Aston Banks walks into a room is my secret. And I don’t intend to share it anytime soon.

Her blue eyes are focused on the words on the page in front of her like they always are. I’ve never known anyone to spend as much time with their nose between the pages of a book as Megan does. Everywhere she goes she has one – in her bag, in her lap, next to her.

No one else notices. And no one else notices the fact I do.

Her brow furrows, and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth as she sweeps her long blonde hair from her face. She gathers it at the back of her head and snaps a band from her wrist, tying it up and exposing the sleek curve of her neck and the skin there. I spin my pen between my fingers and glance at my own book.

Off limits. That’s what Megan Harper is.

I knew the first time I saw her I could never have her. The way she holds herself and the sarcastic yet polite comments – she has endless amounts of “screams rich girl”, a class I never have and never will be in. It’s engrained in her to treat everyone with respect no matter what you think of them. I’m certain she could face a serial killer and have at least one nice comment for him.

She does for everyone.

Everyone is treated the same way, and every sarcastic, almost bitchy comment is followed by a softer one. Every frown or fleeting dirty look is followed by an apologetic smile and every slap is a playful one. Everyone is equal until they prove her otherwise.

Except me.

I’m the exception to her rule. And I fucking love it. I bring it on myself, but I can’t help getting under her skin and shaking her up. It’s addictive, sparking a fire in me I can’t put out once I’ve started. She bites so easily and her voice snaps a reply to me sometimes before I can even finish what I’m saying.

It makes it easier to keep away from her. Makes it easier to take a random girl I don’t give a shit about to my room every weekend and fuck her instead. If Megan showed even one ounce of interest in me for something other than a battle of words, I’d be next to her like a damn gunshot.

I’d have her in my bed and underneath me quicker than a fucking bullet.

“What’s the matter? Bored of looking at your usual tarts?”

I blink. Her face is turned toward me, her large, bright eyes questioning, and I smirk.

“Depends if you include yourself in that statement.”

“I don’t exactly have a high opinion of myself, Aston, but I don’t think quite that badly of myself either.” She bites the end of her pen. “The last thing I’d want is to be one of your tarts.”

Ouch.

“That’s a shame.” I lean in closer. “I think you’d fit in perfectly.”

“Really?” She smiles insincerely. “‘Cause I’m afraid I don’t quite make the cut. For one, my panties tend to still be on by the end of the night.”

“It could be arranged for it to be otherwise.”

“The only way they’ll be coming off is if I take them off myself.”

I grin. She’s getting the tell-tale flush to her cheeks, and her eyes are shining a little more like they always do when she’s annoyed. Shit, I’ve been on the receiving end of this look enough times.

“Hey.” I lean back, resting my foot on top of my other knee. “Whatever floats your boat, babe. I’m not against a little striptease.”

Megan runs her tongue across the top of her teeth and stares me down. “Then go and look in your goddamn mirror, ‘cause you aren’t getting one from me.”

I can’t help the upturn of my lips just like I can’t help the images in my head. Her jeans are tight enough, I don’t need to imagine the curve of her ass, but I do imagine it minus the jeans and her bent over, pulling her underwear down.

Blood rushes down my body and I shift. Jesus - a hard on in English isn’t what I need.

“Another shame.” I drop my hands to my lap. Fucking thing has a mind of its own. “You have just enough ass to get it right.”

“So do you, but I don’t see you standing in front of my table and ripping your clothes off to a cheesy tune.” She barely bats an eyelid, taking her eyes from mine and going back to her word. “And thank God I don’t.”

“Braden goes tonight,” I say, changing the subject completely.

“I know.”

“Are you coming over?”

Her eyes scoot from the page to meet mine. “Why?”

“Because I was wondering if I could get that striptease,” I reply sarcastically. “Fucking hell, Megan. I was just asking.”

She rolls her eyes – something I’m sure she has reserved for when she talks to me. “Alright! Yes, I am. I’m coming over with Lila and Kay.”

“Your little sidekicks.” I smirk.

“Says you,” she mutters.

I’ll ignore that. “So you’ll be at a party without Braden. How will you cope?”

“Fuck you, Aston.”

“Sore spot, huh?”

She spins in her chair and fully levels her gaze on me. Sparks fire in the blue, and I know I’ve really pissed her off this time.

Just as well I like it when she’s mad at me.

“I’m not a china doll, much to everyone’s disappointment,” she snaps. “I don’t need Braden to hold my hand when I’m at a party, thank you very much. I’m more than capable of keeping away horny assholes. I’m not sure where you’ve gotten your perceptions of me from, but they’re so wrong it’s unreal.”

She slams her books shut as everyone gets up. She storms past me, then pauses a second and looks back at me over her shoulder. Her lips part, but she shakes her head, turning around and walking away instead.

My perceptions of you are just fine, I want to say as I watch her leave. I just don’t say what I really think, because that would be counter-productive to keeping away from the one girl I really want.

~

Same shit, different night.

The house is full of people, some from Berkeley and some not. I’m getting to the point where I don’t even fucking know. The only reason I’m in this damn frat house is because Gramps was and it was what he wanted. Hell, the man has done enough for me. The least I could do was apply and get in here for him.

Girls flutter their eyelashes, flick their hair, and skim their eyes through the people to find a guy to take home. The guys do their version of it; standing against the bar, walls, in doorways, drinking beer and picking out a girl to take wherever the fuck they want to. And I’m doing it too.

Same as always. Friday and Saturday nights equal meaningless sex. Focusing on that, the meaningless fuck, means I can’t focus on the shit that means something. And it’s so easy.

Pick a girl. Hand her a drink. Tell her she’s pretty. Take her upstairs. Fuck her. Make sure she’s gone by morning.

I’m not the only one that keeps to that. Braden used to, and half the guys in this house do as well. The girls know exactly what they’re getting themselves into, at least with me – they know I want nothing more than a couple hours.

I don’t even want to know their damn name.

I bring my beer bottle to my lips and glance at a tall, dark haired girl walking past. Her eyes skirt down to me and her lips curl. She’s not perfect, but she’d do … If I wasn’t so aware of a pair of eyes on me.

I fight the impulse to meet the gaze across the room but lose. I let my eyes jump from the girl to Megan’s. She’s sitting at the bar, her body facing it, the angle almost begging me to take note of the way her dress hugs her body. I trace my eyes over it, and I love the fact she’s got more curves than most of the girls here. She’s not the skinniest girl but she’s confident in her body and it shows.

Confidence is pretty hot on any girl, but on Megan it’s just downright sexy.

I smirk at her, my lips moving slowly, and raise an eyebrow. Her foot taps as she holds my gaze, neither of us willing to look away, and something shifts between us. She swallows and runs her fingers through her hair, her eyelids drooping. The movement is so slight I only notice because I’m looking for it. Because I’m looking for any little thing that will show me the shift is attraction.

And it is.

She purses her lips around the straw in her glass and questions me with her eyes. This is different – it isn’t us trying to piss each other off. It isn’t us throwing sarcastic comments at each other. It’s something new.

Something raw.

Something dangerous.

Something that could fuck me up.

The smirk drops from my face, and she looks away. She swirls the ice cubes round the bottom of her empty glass and her shoulders relax slightly. I spin the beer bottle between my fingers.

I know the risks. I know if I go over there the sex tonight won’t be meaningless. It won’t be a casual fuck where it doesn’t matter in the morning. It’ll be giving in to the one weakness I have.

But fuck. I want to.

I want to be the girl going upstairs with him instead of the one watching him go.

He drives me crazy in the worst kind of way. Every comment, every smirk, every cocky raise of his eyebrows. Each thing affects me, especially the way he clearly doesn’t know me even though he thinks he does. He’s so wrong about me in every way, and it pisses me off so badly, yet I don’t think I could say no if he walked up to me right now and invited me to his room.

The one not fit for a little rich girl like me.

The one I’d probably feel totally at home with.

But I don’t know if one night would be enough. When you want someone so badly you have to work to hide it, just one night of letting go of that restraint wouldn’t be enough. If he came up to me now and I let go, I don’t think I’d be able to hold on again. I don’t think I’d be able to leave it at one night of casual sex.

Hell. I don’t know if sex with him would be casual.

I know one night can’t hurt, but I also know it can’t do any good.

“Sex doesn’t make love, Megan. If you want to give physically, that’s up to you, but don’t give it all up emotionally just because a guy has a few smooth lines or is good looking. Real sex is the whole package.”

And Mom’s words remind me I want the whole package now.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you alone,” Aston’s voice crawls over me smoothly, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and he sits on the stool next to me.

“It doesn’t happen often.” I turn my face slowly, finding his gray eyes for the umpteenth time today. “I could say the same to you.”

“It doesn’t happen often,” he parrots, a half-smile teasing his lips.

“So why are you here with me and not in a dark corner with your usual company?”

“Ouch, Megan. Is that bitterness in your voice?” His knees brush mine. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Disgust,” I mutter, looking away from him so he doesn’t catch the lie. “Don’t confuse it with bitterness or jealousy.”

“You know something?” He leans in closer, his breath fluttering my hair as he places his mouth close to my ear. “I think you’re fooling yourself. Ten minutes, Megan.”

He gets up and disappears, leaving me shaking my head after him. I need to shake my head – I need to do something to hide the temptation running through my body.

Kyle wordlessly removes my glass and pours me another drinks. “You’re quiet tonight.” He leans against the bar opposite me.

“It has been known to happen.” I smile.

“Odd without Mads and Braden, huh?”

I shrug a shoulder. “A bit, I guess. At least all their shit is sorted out now. We can all get on with our lives.”

Kyle snorts. “Right. Braden took every guy in this house down with him when she went to Brooklyn. It was like living with a woman with fucking PMS, and shit, I moved away from home to escape that. My sister is a demon then.”

“You should try being around guys that don’t get laid enough,” I comment dryly, sipping my drink. “They beat girls with PMS hands down.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He smirks. “Just so happens there’s none of those around here.”

“Huh. You’re probably right.”

“You look like you need to get laid though.”

“And here I was thinking you were a nice guy. You had to go and blow it by saying that, didn’t you?” I sigh playfully. “You all are the same.”

“Hey, I’m just saying.” He leans forward and grins. “I bet you wouldn’t be short of offers since the caveman isn’t here.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting my smile. “The caveman thing is really sticking, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Kyle’s eyes twinkle.

Why can’t I want Kyle instead? He’s a damn nice guy, and he’s not exactly bad looking without his unruly dark hair and hazel eyes. He’s leanly built, his muscles not showy but clear to see. He’d be such a great distraction – if I wasn’t already so distracted by Aston.

I finish the rest of my drink and push the glass toward him. “Do me a favor? Tell Lila I’ll see her tomorrow sometime. I’m heading back to the dorm.”

“Got it.” He nods and turns away.

I glance around the room and scoot out of it. This is a risk. A big risk, but I don’t care.

Aston’s words were full of promises when he sat next to me on the stool, and his eyes were full of mysteries I want to unravel between his sheets. Paranoia attaches itself to me as I push my way through the living room and up the stairs. I run my fingers through my hair as if I’m just heading to the bathroom and glance around on the landing. My fingers grasp the bottom of my dress and tug it down as I climb the final staircase to his room.

Someone grabs my arm and spins me into the wall. Their mouth covers mine, swallowing my shriek, and their swift movements thwart my attempt at kneeing them in the balls.

“You’re not being attacked,” Aston mutters lowly against my mouth. “Unless you want it.”

I open my eyes to his in the dim light of the hallway. “You’re a pig, you know that?”

“Yet you’re here.”

“Apparently.” I drop my eyes.

He cups the side of my head, threading his fingers through my hair, and tugs my face upward. His lips touch mine again, soft but forceful, and I slide my hands up his arms to grip his collar. I hold his face against mine, parting my lips for his probing mouth, and push my body into his. He flicks his tongue against mine, before biting on my bottom lip and sweeping it across it. Tremors fall down my spine, and he reaches around to slot his key into the door, breaking the kiss.

He shoves it open, his hands trailing down my back, and I let him pull me into his room. He slams the door at the same time he yanks my body against his, his breath fanning across my lips. My eyes drop to his mouth and close as he dips his head to kiss me again. This time it’s firmer, more needing, and my fingers creep below his polo shirt and onto his hot skin. I spread my fingers out, my thumbs brushing the solid muscle on his stomach, and he releases me to pull his shirt over his head.

I run my bottom lip between my teeth and run my eyes down his torso. He’s perfect, beautifully so. His skins stretches over each pack of muscle, the shadows in the indents between them like a light engraving on his skin.

I step forward and touch my mouth to his chest, and he cups the back of my head. He kisses my earlobe, running his lips down my neck, and my trembling hands reach up between us.

What am I doing?

“Megan?”

I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. Instead I swallow, stepping back. His hands fall away from me and hang limply at his sides.

“I …” I swallow again, trying to control the crazy buzzing in the back of my mind. “This … This can’t happen.”

Can’t happen? What am I doing now?

“Can’t happen?” He looks like he’s at a complete loose end, unable to work out what I’m saying. Hell, I just followed him up here and now I’m refusing. I don’t get it myself.

“Yep.” I back toward the door, pushing my hair from my face, and tug my dress down a little. “This can’t happen. At all.”

My hand finds the handle and opens the door. And I walk away, leaving him staring after me.

~

No one knows.

I remind myself of this as I stare at Lila’s sleeping body. I keep expecting her to wake up and yell at me for being so dumb. But no one knows – not that it’s stopping the intense feelings of near-peace and guilt warring inside me.

The old age cliché. Your head vs. your heart. My head is telling what I already know – I’m a terrible person. I betrayed my best friend by kissing his best friend when I know it’s the last thing he wanted me to do … But my heart tells me differently, what I should know. It’s telling me I’m not a terrible person. For once I went after what I wanted without thinking of the consequences.

It doesn’t make me reckless and unfeeling. So unfeeling is probably an exaggeration, but reckless? Yes. It was reckless, and probably a little selfish.

Then again, you don’t get anywhere in life without pissing off a few people.

Was last night a mistake? I did the one thing I said I wouldn’t do, the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t fucking do. Don’t get involved with your best friend’s best friend – it’s simple. Something so simple that became incredibly complicated the second I looked into Aston’s misty gray eyes the first day of college. I always knew there’d be something between us, I just didn’t know if it would amount to anything.

And here we are.

After all my attempts, all my fighting to keep away from him, I’ve still somehow ended up falling for his cocky smile and man-whore ways. Not that I love the man-whore ways – I want to set fire to the fake hair, fake nails, and fake eyelashes of every girl that sleeps with him. That’s what they are, and he knows it. Fake.

Jesus Christ, Megan, it was a freaking kiss. One little kiss. Not a goddamn proposal.

But … Maddie said Braden would never fall in love but she was wrong. He did, but Braden and Aston are in different leagues. Braden’s heart was never truly in the sleeping around, he just did it because he could. Something to pass the time – I know that as clearly as I know Aston likes the sleeping around and never-ending attention he gets from girls.

How has one little kiss ended in me dissecting his behavior? A kiss!

I don’t have any expectations for an “us”. I have wants but no expectations. I may be a hopeless romantic happy to get lost between the pages of a hot and steamy novel or a sigh-with-sweetness one, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that those kinds of things happen all the time. Some people will get that kind of love that makes guys wonder and girls swoon, but not everyone.

Love is a fickle thing. Just because you have a person out there that compliments you, that calms your storm and feeds your fire, it doesn’t mean you’ll always have them. You might never meet them. You might meet them – but it just might not be the right time for you.

I’m nineteen. I know love and lust. I know the difference – and I know that for some strange reason, Aston is my storm calmer, my fire feeder. I also know it isn’t the right time for us. It might never be.

Though after the way he held me to him and kissed me last night, I’m not so sure I’m okay with that anymore.