I slid back in my chair, the tension easing out. I was in combat for years, and I had learned to sniff out weaknesses. AM was grasping at straws, throwing up every barrier she could, because she was thisclose to not only admitting she wanted me but actually taking me up on the offer I’d laid on the table earlier. Patience, I counseled myself. For AM, I needed more patience. “Do you want to have a philosophical discussion on violence and civilization?”
“No, no—” She shook her head but I interrupted her.
“Because I’m perfectly fine with that. I’ll even go first. Fighting in some form has been a mainstay of every society, even in some of the most civilized, like the gladiators in Rome or dueling in the refined historical England. It’s a natural event seen in most predatory species, many times around mating. Ancient texts include references to physical brutality, including the Bible and the epic poem Gilgamesh.”
“Wow, you’ve given some thought to this.” She looked surprised once again.
What was with these girls thinking I had less than two stones rubbing together in my head? Did I look like a caveman? “I go to college, just like you.”
She grimaced, then said, “Whatever our historical relationship to violence is, I don’t think beating up any of the lacrosse club members results in anything positive for me. I’m just here to get my degree and get out.” There was a tone of finality to her voice.
AnnMarie suddenly displayed a fascination with the placement of the kidney beans in her chili, scooping each bean individually and placing them on top of each other. A girl had never expressed so much disinterest in our conversation and me with so little volume. Her obviousness made me want to grin. I was really getting to her.
When I realized that AnnMarie was going to continue to act as if her food were more interesting than anything, I broached the most important question she’d left unanswered.
“Why not leave, AM?” I asked gently. The insistence on staying seemed masochistic, like she enjoyed the notoriety. But she didn’t come off as someone who got her rocks off on being a hot campus topic. None of it fit for me.
“Why should I be the one to leave?” she shot back fiercely. “Like you said, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But at a new school—” I began, but AnnMarie leaned toward me with a glint in her eye. She looked so militant that I was afraid I’d pegged her wrong. Maybe she could stab me in the eye with a pen.
“I did nothing wrong.” Every word was said slowly, a puff of breath emphasizing the pauses between each one, as if the spices from the chili had impaired my mental acuity.
“Okay,” I said in reply. “But I think there’s more to the story than that.”
Her non-reply was answer enough.
“You know that the only guys who brag are the ones who aren’t getting any,” I told her.
Rattled, she said, “I don’t disagree, but why?”
“Because then you aren’t talking about actual exploits, you’re playing telephone, trying to gain social power by being in the know. And then it becomes one person trying to top the other. It isn’t even about the subject of that gossip anymore. It’s a power play.”
I knew all about power plays. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I understood that half of my father’s actions were because he was a small man, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. His father was an overpowering figure, and to compensate, my old man was mean.
In boot camp, the sergeants enjoyed f**king with the newbies or “grunts” by waking us up at two in the morning to run with our rucksacks in the muddiest, dirtiest, most uneven ground on the base. It was their way of asserting their power over us. If they could have teabagged us every morning, I was convinced they’d have done that too. So I understood the why that led to what. I’d never been able to figure out how to terminate the action other than to walk away. That’s what I’d done.
“Why does it matter to you?” AM asked softly, her head bent so I couldn’t see her eyes.
“It matters.” I replied firmly. AM wasn’t weak, but she needed me. Or maybe I needed her. I felt boxed in here at Central, like I was living in one of those tiny houses Finn was flipping. Maybe because I recognized something of myself in AM, I felt like I could relax with her. I wanted to spend more time with her, and yes, if I was honest, I wanted to spend time inside of her.
As if my internal intentions had shouted to her, AM’s eyes shot toward mine. Whatever showed through my eyes made her flush, color blossoming in her cheeks like someone took a brush and painted it on. But she didn’t look away. Our verbal confidences had been personal, but they were nothing like the look we were exchanging. The clatter of the café around us diminished. I could see the pulse in her smooth, pale neck start to pump faster. I understood the vampiric instinct here. Bite and mark. Bite and mark.
There was no blood to rush to my cheeks. It was all lower now, much, much lower. I could hear my own breath turn harsh, like I’d run several miles at top speed. As one, we stood to get the hell out of the restaurant. AM might be running to get away from me, but I was leaving quickly because I was afraid I was going to jump across the table and start mauling her.
The cold outdoor air cleared my head momentarily as I held the door for AnnMarie to exit, but her body brushed mine and I felt all my muscles strain toward more contact. Down, I commanded, and I could feel my muscles bunch at the effort of not grabbing her. I wanted her. She wanted me. Now I just had to figure out how to get her to admit the latter and accept the former.
Chapter Sixteen
AM
“IT’S ME.” I HEARD SASHA’S muffled voice at the door.
“The Garden is having an underwear party Wednesday night,” Sasha announced, flopping onto our sofa. The news made both Ellie and me perk up.
“Open?” I asked.
“No, but I have four invites. Want two?” She waved two pieces of beige cardstock in front of us. Ellie snatched them out of her hand before they could make a return trip past our faces.
Gleefully, Ellie waved them above her head with a triumphant, “Yes!”
Sasha leaned toward Ellie. “I hear you’re one of us now.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Creeper McDouche the third sure has a big mouth.”
“Big mouth, small dick.” I offered Sasha a cup of hot cocoa, which she took with a grateful smile.
“I wouldn’t know, but that makes sense,” Sasha replied, taking a sip of the cocoa. Waving her cup in the air, she said, “You know I only come over here for this.”
“If all it takes is peppermint hot cocoa to get tickets to the Garden so we can ogle hot g*y guys in their underwear, I can deal,” I joked and handed another cup to Ellie. Settling in between the two on the sofa, I leaned over to look at the details on the invitation.
“Who’re you taking? Victoria?”
Sasha made a face. “No, she’s being too hormonal. Last week she accused me of being too aloof because I didn’t want to snuggle while we watched The Bachelor.”
“I don’t get why you watch that show.” I shook my head.
“AM.” Sasha heaved a huge sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you? There are hot, dumb women on that show. They’re just my type.”
“I agree that there are hot and dumb women on the show. I don’t agree that that’s your type,” I argued. “Victoria’s premed!”
“I know, and we aren’t together, are we?” Sasha countered. “Speaking of big mouths and new people, the Central rumor mill has placed you in the same proximity as one notorious Bo Randolph. What happened to your No Central Guys Ever motto?”
It was my turn to make a face. “He’s just my lab partner.”
Sasha made a humming noise and took a sip of her cocoa. At my glare, she fessed up. “Martin Sommersby was at Palmer’s Deli with his boyfriend and saw the two of you in a serious discussion. He said your faces were this far apart”—she held up her thumb and forefinger to display a minuscule distance—“and that the sexual tension was so thick it was like a force field.”
With my cheeks burning, I replied as nonchalantly as possible, “We were a polite table distance apart.”
“Good thing you’re the math major,” Sasha said to Ellie, “because this chick has major problems with measurement.”
“Measuring isn’t really a math thing,” Ellie said mildly, having my back as always.
“Come on,” Sasha cajoled. “Bo Randolph is interesting, even to this lesbian.” She paused. “Maybe to all lesbians. He should be my plus one. It’d drive Victoria nuts.”
“It’s nothing,” I insisted. “We’re lab partners. I was hungry. He offered to pay. What sane student passes up a free off-campus meal?”
“If that’s the way you want to play it.” Sasha rolled her eyes.
“Let’s talk about what we’re gonna wear,” Ellie interjected. I shot her a grateful glance, which she acknowledged with a wink. Sasha rolled her eyes again at our obvious ploy.
“I’m doing the bra and panty look this time,” Sasha told us. “I got a new set at Agent Provocateur the last time I was in Chicago. It’s a black widow getup with a spiderweb detailing in the butt area.”
“I’m going corset,” Ellie announced.
I shrugged. “I only have the one set that’s acceptable to wear without clothes.”
“I’m sure it will be hot, babe,” Sasha said. She finished her drink and set the mug on the coffee table. Standing up, she waved the invitations at us. “Shall we cab it down around ten?”
Ellie and I nodded our agreement, and Sasha left.
“So this is a good thing, right?” Ellie looked at me.
I nodded. “Very good. We get to trick ourselves out, ogle some man flesh, and dirty dance with some g*y guys and hot lesbians until our feet bleed and there isn’t a brain cell functioning in our bodies.”
“Bo is that much of a temptation?” Ellie said knowingly.
I fell back against the sofa. “You have no idea,” I admitted with relief.
“Oh I do,” Ellie said ruefully. “Ryan sat next to me in class yesterday and again in lab today. He smelled delicious, like baked apples. I wanted to lick his neck.”
“Did you?”
“No, but I fantasized about him last night. A lot.”
“Did that help? Because I dreamt about Bo, and when I woke up, I was more frustrated than before,” I whined.
Ellie shook her head. “Do we need to watch Magic Mike?”
“No,” I groaned. “That would only make it worse.”
“You know we’ve got it bad when a nak*d and gyrating Channing Tatum can’t solve our problems.”
I rolled my head against the back of the sofa to smile at Ellie. “Take two CTs and call me in the morning.”
“If only.” Ellie slapped me on the knee and said, “Let’s go make ourselves irresistible.”
MY ONE RESPECTABLE SET OF underwear was from Agent Provocateur, too. Ellie and I had both bought a set when we were in the city. I’m pretty sure my mom would have died if she’d known that I spent some of my graduation money on this, but it seemed naughty and adult and fun. The bra was white with embroidered lace flowers with scalloped edges along the top of the cups. The straps were made of pink satin and were sewn to my exact size. It was a service that the store offered for free. Custom tailoring for underwear. I could hardly believe it when I bought the set.
The panties were made of the matching lace with the scallops dancing across my butt and along the v of my thighs. Pink satin laced up the sides and tied at each hip. I wore my hair down, curled, and hairsprayed. At the Garden, everyone seemed to wear makeup, from the g*y boys to the cross-dressers and the lesbians. No amount of eyeliner was too much, and no color of lipstick was too red.
I shuffled out into the hallway with a pair of spike-heeled sandals unbuckled on my feet and a pair of wedges in my hand. Ellie was fluffing her hair and pulling at her corset. I held up the wedges with a query in my eyes. “Wedges are more comfortable,” I said, knowing what Ellie’s response would be.
“But the stilettos are sexier,” Ellie pointed out.
“Stilettos it is.” I dropped the wedges to the floor. Ellie turned and lifted her hair. She needed help fastening the corset. I hooked the laces and pulled a bit, finishing it off with a bow at the base of her spine.
We posed in front of our hallway mirror. “We look good,” Ellie said, drawing out good so that it sounded like three words.
“Let’s go, ladies,” Sasha called from the hallway. Ellie pulled on her long puffer coat and I wore my trench. It wasn’t even close to warm enough but it was the longest coat I had. I grabbed my clutch and double-checked that I had the invitations. Sasha pounded on the door. “COME ON.”