AVA
Pretending nothing happened doesn’t work. Not with me, at least. I forbid myself to talk about it, to think about it, but I can’t control what happens when I sleep. He’s in my fucking dreams, and I wake up every morning feeling hot and bothered. It’s infuriating. I haven’t slept peacefully for two weeks now, so I’m edgy and mean. So mean that Layla has started calling me a porcupine.
“Ava?” My dad’s voice sounds groggy. No surprise there—it’s four a.m. I’m sitting on the kitchen island with a glass of water in my hands, and our cat Smokey is sleeping on the stool. He followed me here from my bedroom and stayed when he realized I wasn’t going anywhere. “Why are you up so early?”
“I’m not really up,” I mumble and take a sip of my water.
“So you’re sleepwalking?” He comes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of grape juice.
“No, I just can’t sleep.”
“Why is that?” Dad pours juice in a glass while keeping his gaze trained on me. “Is something bothering you?”
“Nope.” I look away and focus on the wall. Our kitchen is decorated in white and turquoise, a little project Dad and I did together a year ago. It’s one of my favorite places in the whole house.
“Is someone bothering you?” My eyes flick to my dad. There is a triumphant smile on his lips. “Who is he?”
“Who said it’s a guy?” I whine, making him chortle.
“So it’s a girl? Is it your roommate? Is she still giving you trouble?” Dad bombards me with questions, and I sulk, letting my shoulders slump. He comes closer and leans against the kitchen counter. “Talk to me, kid. Please.”
“Jordan is Jordan. I don’t care about her.” I heave a sigh. My dad always gives pretty great advice, but I’m not sure he needs to know everything. “Someone just confuses me.”
“Baby, I don’t remember ever judging you. You can be honest with me,” my father reassures me, and I inch closer and put my head on his shoulder.
“I like someone, but at the same time he brings out the worst in me, and sometimes I hate him. No, most of the time I hate him. Literally can’t stand the guy, but I don’t know,” I fumble. The scent of Dad’s aftershave reaches my nostrils and envelops me in warmth. He’s my rock, and even if it was incredibly hard for him to raise me on his own, he did an amazing job.
“And what about this guy? How do you think he feels about you?”
“That asshole?” I say sarcastically, and Dad cracks up laughing. “It’s totally the same. One second he insults me, but the next he looks at me with puppy dog eyes, like I’m his favorite snack.”
Dad coughs, spitting out his juice. I tap on his back, helping him to clear his throat. He slowly turns to look at me, and a deep wrinkle forms between his eyebrows. “You are not a snack,” he states. “What exactly happened between you and this guy?”
“We kinda had an argument, and he said something rude. And then he kissed me, and I kissed him back.” Dad tilts his head to the side, expecting me to continue. “Well, I came to my senses, pushed him away, and told him not to do that ever again.”
“What did he do?” he speaks in a calm and soothing voice, showing me I don’t have anything to be afraid of.
“Nothing. He let me leave.” I press my water glass to my forehead and close my eyes. “I have avoided him ever since.”
“That’s why you came home instead of going with Layla to the game last weekend?” Dad puts his own glass on the countertop, takes a towel, and starts cleaning up the mess he made.
“Yeah…” I trail off, and my dad straightens his back and grins at me. What is that about? He looks so pleased with himself.
“So he’s a hockey player.” I roll my eyes but nod in confirmation. “Does Drake know?”
“God, no.” I yelp. Then I close my mouth and press a palm to my lips. Dad throws the towel he was using into the sink and gazes at me intently. Then he sighs and runs his hands over his face.
“Please tell me you didn’t break the rule.”
“The rule?” I frown, arching my eyebrow in question.
“The rule of not sleeping with your best friend’s siblings.” He sets his jaw, while I purse my lips to control the laughter forming in my belly. What the hell is wrong with me?
I lift my shoulders, spread my arms, and just say, “Oops.”
“Ava,” Dad groans, threading fingers through his short hair.
“It happened last year,” I lie, looking him straight in the eyes. “Once.”
“Uh-huh, as if I’m going to believe you.” He shakes his head but doesn’t add anything else, scrutinizing me. Why am I always so open with him? “Okay, tell me about this guy. Not Drake.”
“Drake and I are just friends.” I sigh, getting up and walking over to the sink. “And in all honesty, there is nothing to talk about when it comes to the jerk. He’s arrogant and secretive. I don’t like guys like him.”
“I don’t know, baby, sounds exactly like your type,” Dad muses as I turn on the faucet. “You like troublemakers. Like Jefferson.”
“Jefferson is a stupid fucker, and he deserves to…” A hand squeezes my shoulder, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Sorry, Dad, I shouldn’t have—”
“That idiot deserves your hatred, little one. You have every right to call him whatever you want.” I whirl around and hide my face in his chest. Dad holds me close, rubbing my back. “How about you go back to bed and try to sleep? We can always talk about this mysterious hockey player some other time. When you are ready to tell me about him.”
“You don’t need to know anything about Thompson, I swear.” I lean away. “Is it bad that I would love to stay longer?”
Dad tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and then cups my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “No. It fills my heart with joy that you can always find comfort in this house and you know it.”
“You’re such an amazing dad,” I murmur, and he bends down and kisses me on the forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He steps back, turning to the sink. “Now, shush. Go back to bed.”
“Yes, Mr. Mason.” I smile, spinning around and heading to bed.
“Ava?” I look over my shoulder, meeting Dad’s gaze. “Did you say his last name is Thompson?”
“I… I did…”
“Okay.” He gives me his back. “Go to bed, baby. You’re going back to campus today, and you need to feel rested.”
Blowing air out of my mouth, I go straight to the stairs and climb to the second floor. Next time, I’ll brood in my room rather than go to the kitchen, where Dad can run into me. I disclosed way more than I planned to tonight. Sometimes, having a close relationship with your family is a curse. In my case, at least.
“How about a coffee?” The first person I meet once I walk out of the dorm is Moore. He leans against his fancy SUV, palms hidden in his armpits and legs crossed.
“No, thank you, Hudson.” I plaster on a smile and walk away. I hear him lock his car, and then he jogs after me. Why can’t he just back off? “Listen—”
“I want to apologize for my behavior.” He cuts me off, his eyes glued to my face. “For real.”
“Okay. Apologize.” Not sure I’ll believe or trust whatever he has to say.
“I’m sorry for hitting on you, for trying to force myself on you. It was disrespectful, and I shouldn’t have done it.” He smiles, and my eyes slowly roam over his face. I see the appeal if you’re just looking at him. I see why girls like him, but I’m not sure. There is something about him that doesn’t sit right with me. “Will you forgive me?”
“Maybe.” I look over his shoulder and notice Clay. He’s not alone. A woman takes a step back and slides into a blue car. Is that his mom?
“I have a question.” I tear my gaze away and focus on Moore once again. “I don’t like losing, so is there any chance you’d ever agree to have sex with me?” he asks.
I’m literally speechless, which means one thing: I’m fuming. He’s so fucking dumb. “Excuse me?”
“I’m great in bed, Ava. So I’ll ask again: any chance you will agree to have sex with me?” He leans in, hovering over me with a suggestive smile on his stupid face.
“I hate cows. And bulls. They scare the shit out of me with their horns, the sounds they make…” I accompany every word that follows with a punch in his shoulder. “But I’d ride the meanest bull at any rodeo before I’d ever ride your dick. Get the fucking memo. I don’t like you.”
I shout all that in his stupefied face. Then I hurry up and march away from him, heading right over to Clay.
“Hey, Clay,” I call out, waving at him as I come closer. He sees me and starts grinning from ear to ear. “How are you?”
“Hey, Mason,” he says as I stop in front of him. “I’m good. What about you?”
“Just yelled at Moore. Told him I would rather ride an angry bull than ride his dick.” His face changes so drastically, it’s funny to watch. He’s stunned speechless, but a second later, he bursts out laughing like crazy. “Are you proud of me?”
“More than you fucking know,” he lets out between fits of laughter. “Do you have any plans?”
“Not really.” Layla and Drake will be back on campus tomorrow morning, and staying in my room with Jordan for a few hours straight isn’t on my to-do list. That’s how I ended up outside in the first place. “Why? Do you want to invite me somewhere?”
“I do.” Clay winks at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and strolling us away from the dorm. “Do you like pizza?”
I wrinkle my nose, and his face falls. “Don’t get me wrong; pizza is great, but I already ate at home, and after my dad’s lasagna I’m full.”
“Your dad’s lasagna? What about your mom?” he asks playfully.
“I don’t have a mom,” I say, seeing his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “She died when I was six, so it’s been a pretty long time. Since then, it has just been my dad and me.”
“I’m so sorry about that. And about my words…” Clay tugs me closer, hugging me tighter. “God, I feel terrible now.”
“It’s fine. You didn’t know.” I give him a small smile, nudging his side with my elbow. “Was that your mom with you?”
“My mom?” He sounds and looks surprised, and I feel stupid all of a sudden.
“I saw you with a woman when I was talking to Moore. I thought…” I fall silent, noticing Clay’s lips tremble. He’s trying hard not to laugh, and I scowl. “What’s so funny?”
“That’s not my mom. I hooked up with her last night—” I don’t let him finish, untangling myself from him and scooting away. “Hey? What’s wrong with you? Ava?”
Giggling comes out on its own, loud and infectious. Clay cracks a smile too, shaking his head as he watches me with amusement.
“How old is she?”
“Do you think I asked for her ID?” Oh my fucking God. It’s gold. This guy is the best thing that’s happened to me in college. “Sierra is around thirty-four, I would guess.”
“Do you like older women?” I ask as we finally resume our walk. We cross the quad, and laughter and loud voices reach my ears. A few groups of people loiter on the benches.
“You’re younger than me, and I like you,” he points out, making me chuckle. “I just like women overall. As long as she gives me good vibes, then we’re good.”
“You’re full of surprises, Clay Rodgers,” I tell him, and he reaches over and drapes an arm over my shoulders. “I like you too.”
“As a friend,” he adds, and I nod. “Your vibe is different. It intrigues me, and for whatever reason, I don’t want to screw it up.”
“Me either,” I confess, and Clay gazes at me intently. He leans in and kisses my temple. So simple and yet so tender, making my heart flutter in my chest.
“You need to give me your phone number. I’m the kind of friend who will call whenever I want to talk to you, and that shit works likewise for you too. Especially if you need help with something. Or if someone is bothering you. You can rely on me too, not just on Benson.”
“Aw, Clay. I had no idea you were such a softie.”
“Only for you, babe.” He hugs me tight and turns us to the right. I see a pizza place not far from where we are. “Where is Benson? And his sister?”
“Drake and Layla are home. They will be back tomorrow morning,” I say quietly. “They suggested I go with them, but I decided to have my dad drop me off. He has to work tonight, third shift, so he won’t be able to bring me tomorrow.”
“Layla is pretty hot.”
I halt in my tracks so abruptly that Clay stumbles forward. His gaze is fixed on me as I observe him with my eyes narrowed.
“Do you like my best friend?”
“I always did.” Something in Clay’s eyes tells me he’s being honest. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him? There is no bullshit or confusion when it comes to the guy, and I like that. “Her brother told us right away she’s off-limits for the team.”
“What if I told you Drake is bullshitting all of you? About Layla, I mean?”
“Can you be more specific?” Clay’s brows pinch together, and the pupils of his yellowish-green eyes dilate.
“If Layla ever started dating any of the guys from the team, he wouldn’t say a word.” He blinks; the crease between his eyebrows becomes deeper. “He’s only against one of you fucking his sister like there’s no tomorrow and forgetting about her the next day. That’s all.”
“That sucks,” Clay mutters. “It means she’s still off-limits for me. I don’t do relationships.”
“Have you tried doing relationships?” I ask him jokingly, and he shakes his head no. “You have no idea how much you’re missing out.”
“How so?” He takes his hand off my shoulder and opens the door of the pizza place for us, letting me in first. “I’m getting laid without any real effort.”
“Sex is better with someone you can trust. When you have a certain level of familiarity. A comfort.” I go to the nearest table, but Clay catches my hand and stops me. “What?”
“I need to order.”
“We’re not staying?”
“Nope. Do you want something to eat? I’ll buy.”
I come closer and look at the menu. As I’m not hungry, I settle for a drink. Clay looks at me like I’m wacko but doesn’t say anything. Five minutes later, we are sitting at the table, waiting for our order.
“You mentioned trust and familiarity when it comes to sex. Can you explain a bit more?” He gawks at me with such vulnerability, I wonder why he chose hookups over a relationship. “What does that mean to you?”
“I’m going to be extremely upfront, so don’t judge,” I warn him. “For most men, reaching orgasm during sex isn’t a problem, while for women it’s often not so easy. We need a connection, the ability to talk openly about things we like or even show a guy what makes us feel good. It’s simpler when you know you can trust him.”
“It was like that for you with Benson?”
“I trust him like I trust myself. I know he will never hurt me, and I can be honest with him. I can be myself with him.” I smile sheepishly, casting a glance to the side. “I’m open to experimenting, and I’m not afraid to try something new, but it never ended well. Until Drake.”
“Is our captain the best sex you’ve ever had?”
“He is,” I confirm, holding his gaze. This is not something I can talk about with my best friend, but with Clay I don’t feel ashamed to admit it.
“Wow. Who knew Benson was a beast?” he jokes, and I smack him in his shoulder. “What?”
“You didn’t understand a thing I just told you.”
“I did,” he counters, looking over my shoulder. “When you’re dating someone, you trust them. You talk to them. You create bonds. So sex is better when it’s your permanent partner and not just some random hookup.”
“True.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, raking my eyes over his face. He has freckles but they aren’t pronounced, and his hair is a nice auburn color. His dark green hoodie favorably sets off his skin, making the yellow shades in his green eyes stand out. All in all, Clay Rodgers is a handsome guy. “Why did you decide not to date anyone?”
“Getting personal, are we?” Clay laughs heartily and then looks over my shoulder again. “Our order is ready.”
“You’re no fun.” I stand up and follow him to grab my pop. I have no idea what he has in mind or where we’re going after this. I just go with the flow. Strangely, I like it.
“I need to make sure I can trust you before I reveal all my dirty secrets to you.” Clay elbows me in my ribs, and I whimper. “So if I ask Layla on a real date, her brother isn’t going to kick my ass?”
“I can put in a good word for you,” I suggest. “To make sure none of your body parts are broken if you do ask my best friend on a date.”
Clay looks me up and down and grins. “Cool. I’ll think about it.” He hands me my drink and takes three large pizza boxes in his hands. “Let’s go, Ava. It’s time for you to become a part of my gang.”
I choke on my pop, barely keeping it in my mouth. I cough, and tears spring to my eyes. He’s unbelievable. “Part of your gang? Who are you? Jax Teller?”
Rodgers stops in his tracks and gapes at me with a ridiculously funny look on his face. “You know who Jax Teller is?”
“Um, yeah? Sons of Anarchy is my dad’s favorite TV show.” I lift my shoulder, furrowing my brows. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re the most amazing girl I have ever met,” Clay mumbles, heading down the street.
“Just remember not to say that in front of my best friend. There is no way in hell she’ll go on a date with you if you call me that in front of her.”
“Duly noted,” he sneers, turning to his right and opening the door of an apartment building. Does he live here?
“Clay?” I follow him inside, even as an uneasy feeling settles in my chest. Something isn’t right. “Where are we going?”
He ignores me, climbing the stairs to the third floor and turning to look at me only when we stop in front of apartment thirty-five. “Welcome to the gang, baby.” He knocks on the door, beaming at me.
I’m ready to ask the question that’s been lingering on the tip of my tongue, but it dies as soon as Colton Thompson opens the door and looks at Clay and me in total bewilderment.
Fuck.
