ONE GOOGLE SEARCH LATER, we find information regarding our new friend.
Richard Connor Cobalt is the son of a multi-billion dollar corporation that owns smaller companies involved in paints, inks, and magnets. Unlike Hale Co., Cobalt Inc. brands their products with smaller subsidiary names like MagNetic and Smith & Keller Paints. So I feel a little less stupid for not realizing his family’s prestige.
And Connor is right. His wealth doesn’t change my perception of him. He may be using us to solidify a spot at Wharton, but he does so through tutoring, not badgering me for a reference from my father. If anything, I think more highly of him. He could ride his name all the way to the top. I’m sure he does take advantage of his connections, but there’s genuine hard work and drive to be the best.
Also, if Connor willingly spends 48 hours cramming for a random girl, without monetary compensation, I wonder how many close friends he actually has. Maybe none.
After my test, I take a seat in a comfy, slightly overused, chair in the chatty study lounge. I dial my sister’s number.
One ring passes before she answers. “What’s up?” Background noise crackles through the speaker. “Hey, watch it!” Rose yells at someone. She puts the receiver back to her ear, her voice more present. “Sorry. I’m walking on campus, and some asshole threw a Frisbee at me. I’m wearing heels and a fur coat. That does not scream, I want to play.”
“He probably thought you were cute,” I say with a smile.
“Yeah, well I’m not a dog that will jump up at the sight of a toy.” She sighs heavily. “Why’d you call? It must be important.”
“It’s not,” I say.
“I just assumed, since you were the one to initiate the call.” She sounds a little distracted.
“If now’s a bad time, I can call later.”
“No, no, no. I’m just crossing traffic. Cars will hit pedestrians even if we use crosswalks. You know how it is.” That I do. Reckless driving and too many bodies trying to reach the other side of the street—it makes for a very dangerous combination.
“Well, I decided to hire a tutor for econ.”
“Oh, that’s great. How’d your exam go?”
“Eh, not sure. Hopefully I passed.” I bring my feet up on the chair cushion. “You know the tutor though.”
“What,” she deadpans. “Who?”
“Connor Cobalt.”
She shrieks. I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “That motherfu—” She continues her string of expletives ending with, “asshole, he’s tutoring you?”
“Yep.”
“You know, my team beat him at the last Academic Bowl tournament, but he was obsessed with the fact that he knew some 18th century British philosopher who influenced Freud. He wouldn’t shut up about it.” She’s foaming at the mouth. “He’s so annoying, but you probably already know that.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Better not take sides on this one.
“You should dump him and find someone else.” She pauses. “It’ll probably do wonders to his ego. You know, I’m always available.”
At this, an incoming call starts ringing, disrupting my talk with Rose. I glance down and see CONNOR COBALT in big letters. Uh… “Hey, Rose, I’ll have to call you back. We’ll talk more later. Someone’s on the other line.”
“Lo? You’re seriously going to hang up on me for him right now.”
“No, actually it’s—”
She gasps. “No. You are not ditching me for Richard.”
I laugh at his real first name. “I’ll talk to you later. He probably just wants to know how I did.”
“Lily,” she warns.
“Bye, Rose,” I say quickly, switching lines. “Hi, Connor.”
“Estimated grade?”
I sigh. The exam was hard, and I have no idea whether I passed or tanked. “An A,” I joke.
He sounds like he’s walking hurriedly on campus, places to go, people to see. Hey, kind of like Rose. I inwardly smile. “You’ll make an A in econ when I piss glitter, but if you feel confident about it, that’s what matters.”
“Thanks, Connor.”
“About tonight, I’ll swing by your place around ten, and my driver can take us to the party from there…” His voice trails off, distracted. “Hey, Lily, your sister is calling me.” Oh my God, she is not.
“I hung up on her to talk to you,” I say quickly. “How does she even have your number?”
“She probably called someone who has it,” he says, not sounding surprised at all. “I should answer this.”
“Good luck.”
“I’m not scared of her,” he laughs. “See you tonight, Lily.” My phone beeps, going silent.
Lo exits the classroom from across the hall and waves to me. I stand and follow him out of the building. We make a conscious effort to not talk about grades or the exam, lest it ruin the mood and Lo’s birthday.
When we reach the Drake, I hide inside the guest room, clumsily putting on my old superhero costume. I avoid all mirrors. The leather fits more tightly than I remember and my whole midriff is exposed to the world.
I sit on the bed, hunched over to hide my skin.
The door creaks and Lo sticks his head in. “Hey there.” He enters, proudly adorning red spandex with black sides, a large belt around his waist, and a giant X on his chest. He looks badass, especially with the way the sleeves are cut at the bicep, showing off his sharp muscles.
“You look like a wilted flower,” he tells me. Before I can protest, he lifts me by the hips off the bed and holds my wrists from covering my bare stomach. “You’re hot, Lil,” he whispers in my ear and then kisses my temple.
“Where’s my cape?” Despite the soft kisses on the nape of my neck, I can’t think of anything but the outfit.
“X-23 doesn’t have a cape.” He sucks my ear lobe, and his hand slides down the leather, to my thigh and then…
I gasp. “Lo…” I grip his arms tight and bite my lip.
He twirls me around and aims me towards my floor-length mirror. Sneaky. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can change. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but you do look beautiful. See.”
I stare at the long plastic “knives” poking out between my fingers. I can’t see my ribs, which is a plus. Like I need any skeletal jokes during Halloween. I suppose the outfit makes my breasts look a little bigger than normal. But I still don’t like the way the leather rides up my crotch. There’s nothing I can do about that now, and I want to try to be confident in my skin for Lo. It’s his birthday after all.
“I suppose a cape would be sacrilege,” I say.
He spins me back and kisses me hungrily, his fingers leading a fiery trail down my bare stomach. I pull away as they dip below my latex pants again.
“Lo,” I say in a ragged breath. “It took you an hour to put your suit on.” Lo gained muscles in the past few years, and while I was glaring at my costume on the hanger, he asked me if I had any oil so he could slip on his outfit more easily. He ended up rubbing Hale Co. baby oil all over, but it slid on, doing its trick.
Another change from the last time—his lower area seems to be way more prominent. Or maybe I refused to look last time. I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t help but stare every so often.
Like right now.
He smirks. “Afraid it may disappear?”
My arms blush. “Um…no,” I mutter. “I’m actually wondering if your suit will rip if you get…uh…you know.”
“Hard.” Oh God.
His grin widens as I turn my head, trying desperately to restrain any longing that pulsates within me. I want to jump him right now. I do. Truly, I’d love to rip off his suit, but Connor is supposed to be here in less than an hour and I have little time to force Lo’s body back into the unruly fabric.
“I’ll try to contain myself,” he says with a lingering smile. “But there is something I can do without taking off my clothes.”
Huh? My brows relax as he drops to his knees. His hands slide down my hips on his way to the ground. Holy shit.
He glances up with his bedroom eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip, and his heady gaze electrifies my body. He uses one hand to cup my bottom and then folds my latex pants down and down and down. Oh…my…
He pushes my legs, so I fall into my mattress, and he spreads my feet wide open. He still kneels at the foot of my bed, and I grip a handful of his hair, tugging his head back. His firm hands stay on my knees, and neither of us makes a move yet.
I know what he’s about to do. He refuses to remove his eyes from mine, almost challenging me to be the one to look away. I don’t. From my sexual interactions with Lo, I’ve come to enjoy this the most—the staring, the locked eyes, the feeling of being connected beyond intertwined limbs. I’ve never had that before.
Not with anyone but him.
“Breathe,” he tells me.
Right as I focus on inhaling, he runs his hands up my thighs, to my hips, and I buck at his touch. “Lo…” I shudder, and he breaks his gaze to kiss my throbbing spot.
I clench his hair tighter, losing air to these feelings.
I don’t see how this can ever become old.
