“SORRY I’M LATE,” I breathe the apology as I rush into class, shooting the lecturer an apologetic glance as I flop into the seat my friends have saved for me.
I knew I wasn’t going to make it on time the second I waltzed into the bookstore an hour ago, my totally pure intentions of dropping off lunch and having an innocent rifle through the shelves dashed as soon as golden eyes landed on me. I swear, every time I go there, I never mean to stay yet every time, I find some frivolous reason to, and today was no exception. I got delayed by… things. Actions that belong on the pages of deceitfully innocent books and that should not happen in between the shelves during broad freaking daylight.
By the time I managed to pry myself away, the class I intended to use as my excuse to leave had already started, and then I got flustered and decided I needed a real excuse for being late other than ‘sorry, I was sucking dick,’ so I took an unnecessary detour and snagged coffees and pastries for me, the girls, and our lecturer who is thankfully a saint. It’s a miracle, really, that the one class the three of us happen to share is led by the most chill faculty member in this whole university.
Although, as two beady gazes fixate on me, I start to wish we had a grouchy old battleaxe opposed to chit-chat.
Kate and Luna share matching knowing smirks as I hand over the goods that maybe double as a bribe in exchange for their silence. I should’ve known it wouldn’t work. Chewing thoughtfully on the useless white chocolate brownie I smuggled her, Kate muses, “You look a little… ruffled.”
At least she attempts subtlety.
Luna, the little shit that she is, brandishes lipgloss the same shade as the one I wore before it was smudged beyond repair. “You’ve got blowjob lips.”
“Luna,” I hiss, snatching the gloss and praying her voice isn’t as loud to everyone else’s ears as it is to mine.
“Happens to the best of us, baby.” She waves off my embarrassment with a toothy grin, ripping into the cinnamon roll I wish I had chucked in the bin with gusto. “Now that you’ve deigned to join us, I’ve been thinking-”
“That’s dangerous.” My well-deserved quip earns me a pinch on the thigh, and I jolt so hard I almost drop my pastry on the floor. Rude—you don’t mess with a girl’s caramel pecan swirl. “That wasn’t very holiday spirit of you.”
“Like I was saying,” Luna ignores me, “I was thinking we should go on a trip.”
Kate and I exchange rightfully wary glances. “A trip?”
“A road trip,” she clarifies. “Us, the boys, Sydney. It would be fun. Jackson’s grandparents have a place up at Big Bear so we could take a couple of days off and make it a long weekend.” She blurts out her proposal in one, rushed breath with too many hand gestures and gaze suspiciously dipped to the peppermint hot chocolate warming her palm.
I narrow my eyes at her shady behavior. “Sounds like you put a lot of thought into this.”
Just as I thought, she folds at the mere thought of an interrogation. “Fine,” she sighs. Her head rolls to the side as the puppy dog eyes come out to play, long lashes batting and her bottom lip jutting out. “Jackson and I wanna head up there for Valentine’s Day but his grandparents don’t want us being there alone.”
“So we’re your sex buffers?” Kate snickers. “And here I thought you wanted some quality time with your friends.”
With a broken sigh, I clutch at my chest dramatically. “I’m wounded, Lu.”
A whining noise escapes our friend. “Please, please, please, please,” she whimpers, hands clasped beneath her chin. “Jackson showed me the house and it looks so fucking beautiful and it’s huge so, really, it’ll be like staying in a hotel for free and he said he never goes there because he doesn’t like his grandparents but he wants to take me and it’s my first Valentine’s day with a boyfriend and-”
“Oh my God, if we agree will you shut up?”
Luna perks up at Kate’s half-joked question, making a dramatic display of fake zipping her lips shut and throwing away an imaginary key.
“Fine,” Kate relents, but I’m positive a big chunk of her reluctance is faked—she’s a romantic at heart, and a weekend away with her girlfriend is hardly a hardship. “As long as you’re sure Jackson will still hold your interest by then. Two months is, like, a decade in your little head.”
“I resent that.” Luna tugs one of Kate’s braids—she’s swapped the stark white for an umber shade the same color as her natural hair—with a scowl before setting her sights on me. “And you, little one?”
Oh, I’m a hard yes. Getting off campus for a few days with my favorite people? What the hell kind of argument am I going to have against that? Being trapped in the same house as Cass and Nick might prove to be a challenge but I’m working on my optimism.
At my nod, Luna squeals as quietly as she’s capable of, whipping out her phone at the speed of light. A handful of seconds later, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Luna: clear your calendars, ladies. Valentine’s weekend, Big Bear road trip, presence mandatory
Ben: is this some kind of orgy proposition? because if so I’m totally in. begs first crack at nicky
Nick: In your dreams, kid. Blonds aren’t my type.
Me: cute couple alert
Ben: right?!?!? that’s what I’ve been saying
Nick: Jealous, querida?
Me: in your dreams, nicolas
Cassie: stop flirting with my sister
Ben: fight fight fight
Kate: compare dick sizes later, boys.
Luna: yeah put them away. Who’s in?
A round of agreements fill the group chat, earning a triumphant hoot from Luna. Before I know it, we have dates set aside, car logistics figured out, and assignments on who’s bringing what handed out. Apparently, we’re an efficient bunch. In theory, anyway.
Cassie: just us or can we bring people?
Me: don’t tell me Cassie’s thinking of bringing a date.
Cassie: ha. funny.
Cassie: can the baseball guys come?
Cassie: Jay’s been asking about you, Tiny.
“Who’s Jay?” I ask Luna, frowning at my phone as Jackson confirms the baseball guys can join us.
“He’s on the team with them,” she tells me. “The guy who kinda looks like he belongs in a Twilight movie?”
I sift through the sparse memories I have of Cass’ baseball friends. “The super pale guy?”
Luna clicks her fingers in confirmation. Huh. Weird. I’ve exchanged maybe four words with the guy—definitely not enough to make an impression. I’m in the middle of typing out a reply to Cass when my phone vibrates again, a private message this time.
Nick: Jay, huh?
Me: might need someone to keep me occupied since you’ll be busy with Ben
Nick: Keep teasing, Amelia. See what that gets you.
I squirm in my seat, biting my lip so hard I taste blood. Clocking my slightly dazed expression, Kate leans over to get a look at my screen, and a low laugh escapes her. “Oh, sweet Mils. You are so screwed.”
Contrary to Kate’s belief, I don’t ‘get it’ when we arrive home to find Nick waiting outside our apartment. Unless the ‘it’ she was referring to involves him kissing me sweetly, offering my friends a friendly greeting salute, and striding inside the moment the door’s open, beelining for the kitchen.
“I’m cooking tonight,” he tells us, plopping a bag of groceries on the counter before rooting around in the cabinets and I swear, sexual orientation or relationship status be damned, the three of us swoon. None of us excel in the culinary department—I have four recipes that I rotate regularly, and one of those is pancakes—and, in case it isn’t abundantly clear already, the way to our hearts is undoubtedly through our stomachs. “Everyone okay with feijoada?”
I have no idea what that is but I’m guessing it’s Brazilian and therefore—if I learned anything from the treats Ana whipped up at Thanksgiving—it’s probably freaking delicious, so my nod is more than eager. The girls mimic me and, with a happy squeal, Luna bounds toward Nick, peppering him with questions and offering her assistance, and I can only hope he clocks me and Kate’s matching winces. If not, he’ll realize very, very quickly that a kitchen becomes a million times more deadly when Luna Evans is in it.
There’s a dual sigh of relief when, clever boy that he is, Nick slides a tower of tinned black beans Luna’s way, instructing her to drain and rinse them, a task even she can’t make dangerous. Proving his smarts again, he keeps one eye on her as he fries off bacon and sausage, explaining that he’s making a cheat version that would send his mother to an early grave, and the joke would earn him a laugh if I wasn’t entirely focused on resisting the urge to break our golden rule.
Gray sweats, curls damp like he’s fresh from the shower, and he’s cooking? Not freaking fair.
Beside me, Kate sighs. “He’s full of surprises, hm?”
I hum a strained noise. Understatement of the century.
“Not very friends-with-benefits behavior.”
I keep my mouth shut, scared of what might come out.
“Never thought I’d say this but he’d make a great-”
“Don’t,” I plead. Don’t verbalize the first thought that springs to mind any time he does something nice because it’s making what’s supposed to be fun and easy so much more complicated.
My inner turmoil must be written all over my face because Kate drops the subject. Patting me on the shoulder, she squeezes into the kitchen too, quickly getting assigned a job as well. The trio more than fills the small space but none of them look particularly put out by the close proximity, and soon, a comfortable buzz of conversation rolls over the small apartment and makes my heart freaking ache because it looks so damn right.
Well aware that having a breakdown every time my friends and Nick interact isn’t normal, I suck in a steadying breath and join them. The tight quarters give me no choice but to cozy up behind Nick, my arms sliding around his waist, my cheek flat against his back. “If you’re trying to deter me from teasing, you’re going about it the wrong way.”
That husky laugh I adore too much vibrates through me. “I figured you were sick of takeout.”
Hands slipping beneath his top, I drum my fingers against the hard stomach I’m met with. “An hour ago you were all ‘me caveman, no touch my woman.’ Where’d that energy go?”
Nick turns in my grip, shifting so he’s leaning against the counter next to the stove and not at risk of burning his perfect ass to a crisp. A slow, slick smile lifts his lips. “Did you just call yourself my woman?”
From somewhere behind me, snickering erupts. “She definitely did.”
I cast a glare over my shoulder at my smirking friends before refocusing on my, no, the, smirking man. “That was not the point.”
Heat scorches through my clothes as Nick trails his touch downward, palms curving over my ass with little regard for our audience as he dips his head. “I’m saving it,” comes his drawled whisper, too quiet for eavesdropping but loud enough to seize my attention in a vice-like throttle. “What better way to show Clay you’re off limits than having him listen to you screaming my name all night?”
Good freaking God.
“First off,” I cough out the words, painfully aware of my red cheeks giving away just how much of an effect his words have on me, “you know his name is Jay.” The shit-eating grin on his face proves so. “Secondly, there will be no screaming. There’s gonna be a lot of people around.” And ample chances for us to get caught, I finish silently.
I don’t articulate a ‘thirdly,’ though I certainly think it. It’s hard not to dwell on the notion that these grand plans are months away; who knows if this will still be happening. And it’s odd my brain didn’t immediately catch on the moment the plans were proposed, that I assumed we’d still be… us.
There’s no opportunity to overanalyze; a strong pat on my ass cheek keeps my mind firmly set in reality, as does Nick’s roguish grin. “We can practice being quiet this week.”
My head flops back with a groan. God, I’ve barely thought about the upcoming undoubtedly challenging few days ahead; Christmas with our families. We literally leave for Calton in the morning yet it’s barely crossed my mind, I’ve been so busy with school and work and, well, Nick. My suitcase lies unzipped on my bedroom floor, random clothes haphazardly chucked in because any and all attempts I’ve made to pack have been thwarted by a needy, handsy giant baby of a man.
“Are you nervous?”
About creeping around for days protecting yet another destructive secret? “No,” I lie.
“I am.” I must not hide my surprise very well because Nick chuckles. “I gotta meet your dad, querida.”
Great. I didn’t even think about that. “He’ll like you.”
“You think?” At my nod, Nick hums—a little thoughtful, a lot roguish. “As long as he doesn’t find out I’ve been knuckle-deep in his daughter.”
