Caisey Quinn - Give Me You ENG

Praise for the Neon Dreams series “Authentic. Emotional. And scorching hot! Leaving Amarillo is everything I want in a book—fantastic writing, loveable characters, and a story that stayed with me long after the last page. My favorite New Adult book, hands down! Excuse me while I go read it again.” -Cora Carmack, New York Times bestselling author “A heart wrenching ballad on the page that sings with vulnerability and crescendos with undeniable love. An emotional page-turner from start to finish that will leave you wanting more.” -Jennifer Ryan, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author “Caisey Quinn writes with an integrity, emotional depth, and heart that leaves me breathless. Leaving Amarillo has made me a fan!” -Candis Terry “This has all the things that make up great country songs: love, longing, and the requisite heartbreak. A rollicking new series!” -Jay Crownover, New York Times bestselling author of ROWDY “Quinn’s series debut is a refreshing look at one band’s quest for country music stardom, from the back roads of Amarillo, Tex., to the bright lights of Nashville… Quinn’s novel is a complex emotional rollercoaster ride, with love for family and friends playing as much of a role as romance.” -Publishers Weekly THE ENTIRE NEON DREAMS SERIES IS AVAILABLE NOW FROM AVON/WILLIAM MORROW NEON DREAMS SERIES Leaving Amarillo Loving Dallas Missing Dixie

All I Need Hold Us Close (novella) Keep Me Still KYLIE RYANS SERIES Girl With Guitar Girl On Tour Girl In Love Kylie Ryans Box Set SECOND CHANCE SERIES Last Second Chance Falling for You (novella) Falling for Fate One Last Ride (Coming Soon) BROKEN HEARTLAND SERIES Storm Warning Path of Destruction Taking Shelter (Coming October 2016) Aftermath (The Complete Series Box Set) COMING SOON 729 Lost in Lyrics Song of My Heart: The Gretchen Gibson Story COMING IN 2017 FROM Penguin/Random House NASHVILLE’S FINEST Live Wire Deadly Retribution For a sneak peek at 729, the upcoming southern suspense novel coming this September from Caisey Quinn, keep reading after the conclusion of Give Me You.



Corin Connelly left her past far behind her in New York City. Along with her mother and an exboyfriend who had no plans to let her go. Starting over in college in California seemed like a vacation in paradise compared to her old life, and if anyone needs a fresh start, it's her. But her new roommate has a life-threatening secret, and soon paradise becomes even more intense than New York. When she loses a bet to the university soccer team's star goalie, Skylar Martin, he claims a prize she didn't ever plan to give him. A weekend in her hometown. Skylar Martin is used to getting what he wants. Growing up in a world of privilege has made his life easy, which is exactly how he likes his women. But when a feisty redhead tells him no, he becomes determined to figure out what makes her tick. And what she's hiding. Spending a weekend together will change everything they think they know about each other. The closer they become, the harder it is to hide the mistakes they thought they'd left behind--mistakes that will stand in the way of what they both want. Corin and Skylar will have to stop hiding from the darkness in their pasts if they want a bright future together. But how can you love someone if you can't forgive them?

For everyone who read Keep Me Still and believed Skylar and Corin had a story worth telling. You were right.

To err is human; to forgive, divine. -Alexander Pope

Brooklyn, New York all me childish, but I fucking love butterflies. Love them. First of all, they’re gorgeous. Second of all, they don’t sting, bite, shit, or need to be fed or watered. I’m sitting outside of the clinic on a cold metal bench when one dances on the air beside me. Its wings are bruise blue and black, and it lingers for a few seconds, giving me time to admire it, before it flits away on the stale city breeze. I’ve never been the kind of person who looks for signs or any type of handout from the universe. I learned at an age I couldn’t even remember that there was no magic in the mysteries of the unknown. Life is life. Sometimes it’s beautiful and sometimes it’s downright fucking disgusting. The beauty is always fleeting and the soul-stabbing pain is never-ending. So I wasn’t sitting there, after receiving the most horrific news of my life, looking for a sign. I was waiting for a damn bus. Which was late. Not that I was in a huge hurry to get back to my shitty apartment or my creep of a boyfriend-slashlandlord. But I wasn’t looking for a sign either. Or a miracle. Or anything really. And yet…that butterfly just appeared in front of my face. I looked down at my grease stained T-shirt, the one from the diner I worked at, and then up at the bus that had finally arrived. Time to make a change? Community College might be right for you! Call today for the keys to unlock the potential in your future! Normally I wouldn’t have noticed the cheesy-ass advertisement shouting at me from the side of the bus. Wouldn’t have thought that the redhead grinning maniacally while clutching a stack of textbooks to her chest in the giant picture looked anything like me. Any other day I wouldn’t have punched the number into my phone. But that day, I did. Because it was either that, or walk out in front of the damn thing and put an end to it all.

C

ou have been accepted. Four words. Four words that change the course of my life so drastically, they might as well say You have cured cancer. I read them so many times the paper looks ancient instead of like it had arrived at my apartment merely a week ago. I fold the letter along the creased lines and tuck it into the back pocket of my jeans. I’d gotten in. And not to just to the local community college, but a state university on the other side of the country. Which was exactly where I wanted to be. “This is so fucking stupid, Cor. You’re just emotional because of the—” “Go to hell, Eddie.” I lug my giant secondhand suitcase down the stairs, not bothering to look up at him for more than a second. He leans further over the railing. “Don’t come crying to me when they kick your ass out. They don’t let bargain basement hookers into college, Ginger. It’s only a matter of time until they see you for who you really are.” Sucking in a breath, I do the best I can to steel myself against the verbal assault. This isn’t new. It’s not the first time someone called me a slut. Hell, it’s not even the first time this week. But I hated being called Ginger. “Take care, Eddie. Take extra special care to fuck right off.” With that, I shoot him the bird and walk out of the dilapidated building I’ve called home for the past two years. Two huge Neanderthals stand outside the door. “He in there?” One of them asks me as I hand my suitcase to the other. “He is,” I confirm. Danny Webber turns and heads into the building I’d just exited. He’s the fry cook at the diner where I worked. Past tense because I quit this morning. He has more tattoos than Mel’s Diner has breakfast specials and he’s done plenty of time upstate for who knows what. He’d offered to scare Eddie Franco into leaving me the hell alone. So who was I to refuse? Good help was so hard to find these days. Tony Coreitti watches Danny go then puts my suitcase in the trunk of the cab that’s waiting for me. I stand there, listening to the sounds of the city traffic and biting my thumbnail to the quick while trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this is actually happening. I’m getting out. Leaving the girl I used to be behind. And I am never, ever coming back if I can help it. Tony hands the driver some cash before gripping me by the shoulders. “You sure about this, kid? You could always come work for me. I’d take good care of you. California is a long ways away, doll.” I give him the most confident smile I can manage. “Honestly? I’m not sure about anything these days. But I need out of here, you know? I feel like…like I can’t breathe here.” It was the truth. Trying to take a deep breath in the backside of the Bronx was hazardous to your health. “Any of those surfer boys out in Cali give you any trouble, you know who to call, right?” I grin and nod. Tony’s been like a father to me. Closest thing I ever had to one. Technically he was

Y

my mom’s handler—which, let’s face it, is just a nicer word for pimp—but beggars can’t be choosers. “Just take care of my mom, okay? No more politicians, Tone. Those situations get too messy.” “Your ma, she does what she wants, you know? I’m kidding myself acting like I call the shots.” He shakes his head and scrubbed a meaty hand over his face. The way my mom was, Tony had become more like personal security than anything else. She hadn’t even come home last night to say goodbye to me. Not that I was surprised. I’d gone numb where my mom was concerned a long time ago. “Tell me about it.” I gave him a quick hug and ducked into the cab. “See ya ‘round, old man.” Part of me wanted to watch New York fade as I pulled away from the dingy street. Same urge struck as the plane took off from LaGuardia. But I didn’t watch the landscape become a distant memory either time. I didn’t think about the past. Didn’t so much as glance back over my shoulder even once. I was done looking back. My mind was set on the future. Because for the first time in nineteen years, it felt like I actually had one.

forget you have to come home on the fifteenth next month. The Hessinger ’s have that “D on’t father-son charity golf tournament you and your dad have RSVP’d for. And then of course we’ll see you at Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and then you’re signed up for Katie’s bachelor auction for the Orange County Crisis Center Valentine’s weekend.” “Look, Dee. I got it, okay? The shit’s in my calendar and my phone will remind me. And if I ignore my reminders, I’m sure you’ll call to remind me.” Hoisting my bag over my shoulder, I give my mom’s social secretary a pointed glare. “They schedule in giving a fuck about me or attending any of my soccer games that you know of?” Deidre Andrews tilts her pretty blonde head and lays a sympathetic smile on me. “Skylar, you know both of their schedules are hectic and—” “So that’s a no then. Don’t worry, I figured as much.” Only in the Martin household does a guy get his college send off from his mom’s assistant instead of an actual parent. But that was okay. Dee was hot and she gave amazing blowjobs. No complaints from this guy. I give Dee a quick kiss on the cheek and walk out of the house I’d grown up in. Grown up being a relative term and all. The town car driving me down to Southern California State University—SoCal to those of us who were local—is waiting in the driveway when I step outside. It burned the hell out of my parents that I wasn’t attending the same private university as my sister but tough shit. I got a soccer scholarship to SoCal and that’s where I’m going. Squinting in the sunlight, I slide on the gunmetal gray squared lenses of my aviator Ray Bans. “What’s shaking, Dick?” I ask my dad’s driver as he took my bag. Richard Carlson has driven my dad for as long as I can remember. When I was a kid I thought they were best friends. As I got older, I realized Richard worked for us and my dad didn’t see people beneath his pay grade as worthy of friendship. In reality, my dad is the dick. Among other things. That myth about people with money being fucking assholes? Not entirely a myth unfortunately. “Young Mr. Martin. Off to college. I never thought I’d see the day.” “Because you can’t believe how grown up I am now? What a bright, promising member of society I’ve become?” I ask while settling into the leather backseat. “Because I suspected you’d get arrested for texting young ladies pictures of your genitals and end up on the sex offender registry before this day arrived.” I chuckle as he closes the door. “It’s all about who you know, Dick. It’s all about who you know.” “We’re getting introduced at freshmen orientation in a few hours so you fuckers need to get a move on,” is how fullback Ben Blackburn greets us as we’re unpacking our stuff in the dorm. Not exactly Captain Manners, that one. How his burly Scottish ass ever gets laid is beyond me. But

to each their own I suppose. “And don’t forget, ladies, you have to clean the field house and spit-shine the locker rooms,” he reminds us on his way out. I roll my eyes because I went to a private high school and am used to douche bags like Blackburn. But my roommate, a temperamental walk on named Landen O’Brien, looks ready to blow. “Chill, man,” I mumble under my breath to O’Brien. “It’s just for a year, and then we’ll be the ones giving the orders.” I toss a pair of socks into my drawer and laugh. “And we won’t have that obnoxious accent of his.” O’Brien nods but doesn’t say anything as we leave the dorm. A couple guys mention jogging to the field house since it’s not far, but it’s cloudy and I’m not in the mood for a workout. I follow O’Brien to his truck. We’re roommates, after all. Might as well get acquainted. He barely seems aware that I’m riding with him until I open the passenger door. “O’Brien, you good to drive?” His gaze snaps into focus. Finally. “Yeah. I am. It’s not like we’d all fit in your P.O.S. anyways.” I assume he’s joking about the Audi being a P.O.S. though it is small and I have no intentions of ever driving it. My parents had it delivered to campus this morning when they realized I’d left it behind. One day they’ll get it. Maybe. Probably not. Whatever. Two other freshmen, Austin and Michael, climb into the backseat of the extended cab while Dean and a few guys whose names I haven’t yet bothered to learn climb into the truck bed. The faint scent of peaches surrounds me once the doors are closed. O’Brien hardly seems like a peachy air freshener kind of guy. “Dude. It kind of smells like a girl in here. You hiding a chick in the floorboard?” A shadow passes over his expression before he nods to the center console. I lift it and see a bottle of orange colored lotion with peaches on the label. “Nice. Jerkin’ lotion in the truck. I hear ya, buddy.” “Belonged to a girl I dated,” he answers shortly. I can’t help but laugh. “Was she hot? Cause I’m getting a semi just from the smell.” O’Brien lands a solid punch on my upper arm, and I hold my hands up. “My bad, dude. I didn’t realize.” Clearly there are some unpleasant memories surrounding that particular chick, if how hard he socked me in the arm is any indication. Or they’re still together and I just made a rude comment about his girlfriend. But most dudes with girlfriends mention them or are glued to their phones. Something. I don’t recall seeing any pictures when we were unpacking. Of anyone, actually. Even I’ve got a picture of my sister and me from Christmas last year. Landen O’Brien is going to be a tough nut to crack. But if there was anything life as a socialite fuckstick taught me, it was how to fraternize with my peers. I can handle this. We’re roommates and teammates. It’s not like I really have a choice either way. After cleaning the field house and grabbing shakes at a local diner despite O’Brien’s protests as if he found milkshakes to be personally offensive, we head to the stadium for orientation. I spilled some shake on my shirt so I’m cleaning it off with a napkin when O’Brien nearly slams us into a concrete kiosk covered with flyers. “You been drinking?” I ask, placing hand on the dash. “Not today,” he answers while jerking the truck roughly into an empty parking space.

All eight of us head toward the stadium arguing about which entrance we were told to go in. “It’s B8, dumbfuck,” Michael argues with Dean, who informs him it’s C8 we’re supposed to be looking for. “Oh shit, I forgot about this,” I interrupt, tearing a flyer off the nearest kiosk. “You know we have to decorate a team float for Homecoming? Coach said the shit is mandatory.” “No way,” Michael huffs out, snatching the flyer from my hands. “Ah, there’s free pizza at least.” “Wow, fatass. Way to find the silver lining,” Austin says, smacking Mike in the arm. The two of them trade shoves but O’Brien says nothing and keeps walking so I jog to catch up. He’s checking out his phone when we walk into the arena. So maybe he does have a girlfriend after all. Or not. A glance at his phone once we’re seated reveals the recipient of his attention. Mom, his screen says. Awesome. Anger issues and a mommy’s boy. Boy did I luck out in the roommate department. A few cheerleaders are posted around the edges of where we’re seated and I give them an appreciative once over. A well-endowed brunette winks at me and I grin back. I turn to tell O’Brien to relax and enjoy the view but there is murderous rage on his face. Shocker. “Dude, you look like you’re thinking about murdering someone. Care to share?” His eyes don’t meet mine when he answers. “Nah, I’m fine.” Whatever. I’m not his mommy or his babysitter so I move on with my life. Austin starts spouting some bullshit about claiming the brunette cheerleader so I tell him to get real and reach over O’Brien to land a solid thump on Austin’s arm. O’Brien shoots me an irritated glare and I grin innocently. Landen O’Brien is his own brand of crazy, that’s for damn sure. But he’s a striker, and in my experience, they’re all kind of nuts. And since he’s the striker and I’m the goalie, I figure it’s best to hang out on his good side. No use getting Captain Rage-y Pants good and pissed off before letting him kick balls at my head. My phone buzzes with a text alert and I glance down to see a message from Lucas Taite. Apparently there’s a party tonight at the house Blackburn and a few of the upperclassman share. Thank goodness. I was trying to figure out how in the world I was going to show O’Brien a good time and get him to lighten up a little. He seems even more on edge than usual, as if he expects a tripwire to be waiting for him at every turn. I’m in the middle of texting a few of my female options for the evening when the circus act that is welcome to college begins to wrap up. Before I have time to even tuck my phone away, O’Brien is up and mowing a path through the marching band. What the fuck? Apparently people from Colorado are nuts. Though he mentioned being an Army brat so maybe all the moving around prevented him from learning any of the acceptable social behaviors necessary for functioning properly in society. “O’Brien,” I call after him, noticing a few of the other guys side-eying us suspiciously. They all see him at practice—they know he’s a time bomb. Glancing up ahead of where he’s moving to I see a wide-eyed blonde who looks like the zombie apocalypse is upon her. Tick, tick. Boom. Oh good, so he’s like a stalker or something then too. That’s great. Go to college, they said. Meet new people, they said. It will be fun, they said. They were full of shit is what they were. “O’Brien! Christ, man,” I yell, horse collaring him from behind before he can run after the

random chick. “She hates me,” he mutters under his breath. “I came all this way for her and she fucking hates me.” Now see, if I was the cry on my shoulder kind of guy, I’d inquire further about the obviously doomed situation the poor man is in. However, I am me. “Forget her. Let’s get some booze for Taite’s party tonight and see about getting ourselves laid by women who don’t run like hell when they see us coming, shall we?” O’Brien shrugs, a strange look in his eye that makes me question if dude has any prior felony offenses I should be inquiring about. “Stop-N-Shop will sell to us. Let’s go.” I thump him on the back as we head out of the arena. Oh to hell with it. I might as well ask. We live together, after all. “So…that chick a friend of yours or did she just forget to renew the restraining order?” O’Brien gives me an irritated look. “We dated…sort of. In high school. When I lived in Georgia.” Speaking of girls from high school, Kelsie Trenton is attending college here as well and I owe that girl a few orgasms. Or a text, at least. I fire off a few lines inviting her to Taite’s party. “Ah. So that was peaches.” Commenting on the scent in his truck had nearly brought me face to face with his violent side earlier so I decide to drop it. “Looks like she doesn’t want to get back together. Tough break, man.” God I hate awkward conversations about this shit. I’ve never seen a guy so worked up over a chick. Personally I find it pointless and irritating. Why all the stress? There are a million of them out there. Hell, panty droppers swarming from every direction basically surround us. Is the poor guy vision impaired as well? Walking with the human equivalent of a caged bull, I decide then and there to use my most essential skills and abilities to help a brother out. I text Kelsie a reminder to bring along some hot friends to Taite’s party tonight. Landen O’Brien needs to get laid. Like yesterday.

“C an we go?” I’ve only been at Southern California State University, SoCal I’ve learned it’s called, for one week since I signed up for early move in. Classes don’t even start until tomorrow. My roommate moved in early as well, a gorgeous but very introverted blonde named Layla. I like her—at least I think I like her. She’s kind of hard to get to know, then again, maybe I am too. Up until now she’s seemed really sweet though so I’m trying not to take out all my trust issue bullshit on this innocent chick from Georgia. But her aquamarine eyes are wide with panic in the middle of freshmen orientation and I’m questioning her sanity at the moment. She seems desperate to leave even though we just got here. One second we were discussing smokin’ hot athletes being introduced during orientation and the next she’s bolting upright out of here seat like she’s been electrocuted. “Huh?” Maybe I misheard her. The entire arena is bursting into song, singing the alma mater, which I had every intention of learning. “I need to go, now,” she repeats and nope, I heard correctly the first time. Her gaze is unfocused and she teeters left. She did something similar when we were getting coffee earlier. I can’t remember seeing her eat today. I make a mental note to grab a pamphlet on Anorexia at the Student Union next time I’m there. Holy mother…if she passes out I don’t know if I’ll catch her in time. I grab my purse and both of our WELCOME TO SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA STATE UNIVERSITY bags and sling them on my shoulder. “Sure, let’s go. You all right?” Girlfriend pales six shades, and I wish I had a cheeseburger or something to give her. “I’m fine. Just not feeling so well.” That much is obvious, but I just shuffle behind her as we make our way through the crowded aisle. We’ve just reached the end when she turns in the opposite of he direction that I expect. At first I think someone from the marching band has called her name, but then I see him. Day-um. Six foot several inches of lean muscled dark-haired soccer player is calling her name and looking at my roommate like she’s something to eat and he’s a starving man. Suddenly I’m the one who’s hungry. I freeze, watching the drama unfold and kicking myself for being selfish enough to wonder why no man’s ever looked at me the way he’s looking at her. What’s even more alarming is that she ignores him. Layla takes off like someone has screamed ‘Fire!’ I gape at the broken man-boy, who looks utterly destroyed, before taking off after her. Did she not hear him? ‘Cause I gotta say, if that perfect male specimen was mowing down a marching band and calling my name, I would’ve jumped his fine ass like a spider monkey on crack. Well, the old me would have. I’m turning over a new leaf and all. “Um, Layla?” I quick step it in my knock off McQueen ankle boots the best that I can. “Was that fine piece of soccer hotness just calling your name?” She doesn’t look at me as she responds. “Huh? No, I doubt it.” She picks up the pace and so do I. Pretty sure half the female freshman population just saw him.

Girl’s nuts if she thinks I really believe she didn’t. I watch her facial expression closely in an attempt to figure out why she’s lying to me. We haven’t met anyone else yet. Who would I tell? Finally she cracks. Sighing, she glances in my direction and offers a quiet “Maybe.” I nod. “And you’re running like your panties just caught fire because…?” “Because,” she says, looking like she’s having a difficult time swallowing. “Because I do not want to see him.” Uh huh. She can sell that lie somewhere else because I ain’t buying it. “Listen, Speedy. You’re gonna have to slow down a little. These boots ain’t made for sprintin’,” I inform her. She sighs but thank the gods of fashion, she slows a little. “I kind of know him, or I used to, a long time ago.” “Uh huh. Looked like he was pretty interested in a reunion.” “Yeah, well, I’m not,” she snaps. Whoa. Girl does have some gusto then. I’m kind of glad to see it—she appears so frail, it’s good to know she’s got some chutzpah underneath. I also kind of feel like I’ve been slapped on soccer boy’s behalf. I let her be, give her what seems like much needed space to gather herself when we get back to the dorm, but when she lies down across her bed, I lower myself onto mine. She fidgets with her dark purple comforter, tracing the swirly floral pattern with a finger. I figure I’ll just wait her out. She’s got something to say, and I’ve been where she is. Hurt, caught off guard, deeply wounded. I recognize the look and I think of the many many nights I spent wishing I had someone to talk to, someone who would listen and not judge me, and I can’t leave her like this. Even if she doesn’t want to talk at least she’ll know she’s not alone. “He was just a friend,” she breathes out. “But…” I prompt because that was not a friendly look he was giving her. That was a I’ve been roaming the Sahara for years and you are my tall cold glass of water look. “But it had the potential to be more. A lot more. And then he moved away.” She shrugs like this isn’t a big deal. But I can tell by the way she chews her lip that it is. “And now he’s here.” I lean forward propping on my elbows. This is an interesting development and I’m not sure what to make of it. If I saw someone from my high school here, ex or no, I’d either hug them or flip them off —depending on who it was. Unless it was Eddie. If Eddie shows up I’ll run, kind of like my roommate did. God, I hope soccer boy isn’t a domineering asshole like Eddie. I have to ask. No one ever asked about my bruises or the missed school or why I dropped out to get my GED. “Layla, I have eyes. You were trembling with… rage or fear or something. Did he hurt you?” I hold my breath while waiting for her answer. “No,” she shakes her head, but her eyes are saying something different. Whatever happened between them, there was definitely some serious pain involved. Thankfully, she clarifies before I hunt his hot ass down. “Not like you mean, but yeah. Um, I thought it was more than it was… more than friendship. Turns out he had a girlfriend in Colorado, where he was from. And he went back to her and that was that.” Whew. Okay, that sucks. But I know from experience that it could’ve been so much worse. “What a dick,” I say, surprised by her immediate giggle. She has a sweet laugh and I realize in that moment that she really doesn’t laugh much. “There’s maybe a little more to it than that. But I don’t even know all the details for certain, and it’s exhausting to think about. I just can’t believe he’s here.” The bright red word Stalker appears bright behind my eyes. “Oh shit. Do you think he might be stalking you or something?” I feel my chest constrict at the

possibility. “Should we tell someone?” Layla sighs and turns her eyes to the ceiling. “Um no, I don’t think so. I think he might have failed to apply to any other schools besides this one and UGA, where we were supposed to go together so…” Hmm. That better be all it is. If soccer boy gives her any hell I’ll just have Tony come break his legs. Can’t play soccer with no kneecaps. “So here you are, both of you.” Some stupid childish part of me, the one that still loves butterflies, breathes life into the possibility of this guy actually being like a real life Romeo or some shit. Maybe he’s here just for her—to win her back. Or maybe the universe just wants them to be together. “It’s like fate or something.” “No.” Layla shakes her head frantically like I’ve suggested we kick a baby out the window. “Not fate.” Well, so much for that little fantasy. “Fine. I don’t really believe in any of that anyway. But at the very least maybe you guys could talk, and he could explain why he went back with that other girl—” “No.” “Okay, well, it’s kind of a small campus and—” “Corin.” “Okay, okay,” I relent, ending the interrogation by holding my hands up in surrender. “But can I ask one more question?” She huffs a little like a miffed kitten and leans back on her throw pillows. “If you must.” I try to contemplate how to phrase this. I never had many female friends and the ones I did worked for Eddie so they were a little more crass on this particular topic than I think Layla is capable of handling. “Did he, I mean… is he the one?” Her face twists in confusion. “The one what?” “You know, the one. The one who took your v-card.” “Oh my God, no. I’m still carrying that particular card, thank you very much.” She rolls her eyes and I fight off a smile. She’s a virgin. An honest to God, live in the flesh virgin. It’s like someone paired us together as a joke. I lost my virginity at fifteen and never looked back…until this past summer. “Well, was he like your first kiss or something? Cause I gotta tell you, the way you ran out of there…” She doesn’t answer so I begin to fidget. If talking about kissing makes her blush like this, we really have absolutely nothing in common. Suddenly it feels like it’s going to be an extremely long year. And I feel…dirty in comparison. “Layla?” Her eyes are closed, and I’m wondering if she’s trying to play dead. “Layla Flaherty, roommate of mine, at the very least you are going to give me some juicy details about making out with that beautiful hunk of man meat.” She shakes her head. “Can’t.” Whoa. “You guys never even kissed? Seriously?” The man-child looked like he was going to bust out a machete and hack a bloody path to her if need be. Several marching band members likely have no idea how close to death they probably just were. How in the hell could he be so intense about someone he’d never even kissed? “Wow. But he looked so—” “I’ve never been kissed. By him or anyone.” Okay, her blushing about sex made me feel a little dirty but knowing she’s never been kissed makes me feel like I was raised smack in the middle of Sodom and Gomorrah, which in a way, I guess I kind

of was. I can’t help it. I practically fly off the bed, slamming my head into a shelf above my bed and knocking several pictures down. Rubbing my wounded head, I glare at the shelf feeling like it snuck up and attacked me. Then I turn to Layla and assess how truly gorgeous she really is. Petite facial features in perfect proportion, straight blond hair the color of spun gold, light smattering of freckles below her clear blue green eyes. She’s like a Ralph Lauren ad come to life. Stick her on a sailboat and she’s hired. And no one ever even kissed her in eighteen whole years? It doesn’t even make sense. I tell her so. “You’re like a…” I struggle to think of something equally as rare. “Unicorn,” Her eyebrows shoot up immediately. “What?” “Layla, holy hell. You’re eighteen, gorgeous, and no guy has ever kissed you? It’s not even… I mean, it doesn’t even make logical sense. Especially since classes haven’t even started and a ridiculously hot guy looked more than ready to climb over an entire marching band to get to you.” My words must remind her of him, because her gaze fades from the present and focuses on something far away. She looks so…sad. My heart breaks a little for her. This girl deserves to be kissed. And I’ve intruded enough on her privacy. Knowing I wouldn’t be at all comfortable discussing my past the way I’ve pretty much forced her to, I sigh and stand to give her some space. “I am going to leave you be— for now. But tonight, there will be parties. We will be at these parties. You will be getting kissed at said parties if it’s the last thing I do.” I’m about to head into the small common room attached to our bedroom when she calls after me. “Hey, um, thanks for leaving with me. I know I was kind of intense.” I smile at the apology in her eyes. This girl couldn’t be intense if she tried. “No problem. That’s what friends do.” I leave her, feeling extremely pleased to have realized that we are, in fact, friends. A few hours later Layla stumbles out of the tiny closet we call a bedroom looking like a rumpled mess. “I’m all done in the bathroom if you want to shower,” I tell her as she blinks her eyes into focus. “Is that a hint?” She glances down at herself, and I grin. “Um, actually it’s a direct order, but I thought I should phrase it nicely since we’ve only been living together a short time.” “Gee, thanks.” “Layla, the goal is to get boys to want to kiss you. Though you could go as you are and pretend to be wasted and I’d probably have to fight them off you.” She snorts out a laugh. “You’re hilarious.” Thank goodness for social media. I’ve already found the goods on the best party closest to our dorm. “There’s a party within walking distance of campus. We’re going. A cute boy is going to kiss you before the night is over. Here.” I toss her my favorite red dress and she eyes it cautiously. “I thought you wanted me to get kissed. Not raped.” Oh wow. Poor thing. With the khaki shorts and cotton tops, she kind of dresses like an Amish housewife going on safari, a cute one, but still. “Ugh, this is going to be harder than I thought.” I roll my eyes skyward. “Wear tights under it, if

you must.” A half-hour later, she’s showered and trying to cover the dress I loaned her with a cardigan sweater. Lord help this child. She has more sweater sets than any eighteen year- old girl should. So at least one. We compromise and she wears leggings and flats. I can only work so many miracles at a time. After we’ve both added makeup to our ensembles we stand side by side in the full-length mirror on my closet door. My legs are bare under my secondhand Versace white lace skirt. I paired it with a sheer tank and black leather jacket and boots. I like conflicting looks—soft and sweet plus biker chick badass. “I doubt many guys will notice me with you around,” she says, nudging me gently. I look at her reflection and frown. She’s gorgeous, naturally, in a way that I could never be. I need two layers of primer and foundation to hide my freckles and she could go out barefaced and stop traffic. “Layla, I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror, but I was just thinking that you look like the girl every guy wants to take home to Mom. And I look like the slut he hooks up with behind your back.” She scoffs like I’m being ridiculous. “You don’t look slutty, Corin.” She shakes her blond head. “You look like a friggin’ supermodel. The only reason a guy might even talk to me tonight is to get your number. Makes me wonder what the person in charge of assigning roommates was thinking.” I kind of wondered that too. But this girl seriously does not see herself. Maybe that’s what she needs me for. “They were thinking that you needed me,” I say, nudging her back. “And hey, I was thinking—” “Oh no. She’s thinking again.” Layla rolls her eyes at me, and I can’t help but smile. Thank the good Lord, the girl actually has a sense of humor. “Shut up. Seriously, I am all for getting you kissed tonight because honestly, you don’t know true bliss until someone has made the world spin around you. Made you dizzy and tingly with a deep, hot as hell kiss that goes on and on until you don’t care if you ever get to breathe again.” I sigh because damn, I do miss those kinds of kisses. But this isn’t about me. “But I can be kind of pushy, in case you haven’t noticed. If you don’t want to do this, say the word and I’ll drop it.” Layla looks slightly stunned and I worry for a second that I’ve overloaded her virginal senses. “No, um, I mean, I’m in. It’s time. It’s way past time I think.” Atta girl. “Hells yeah.” She tugs her skirt down lower, and I snicker. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” I take her arm and we leave, setting out to get her kissed. God, I hope she really is ready and I’m not just corrupting some sweet innocent girl from Georgia. You’re wasting your time, Corin. They won’t let a bargain basement hooker into college. Layla looks over as if she’s noticed that I’ve tensed, and I force a smile. Fuck you, Eddie.

“T hink a case of Natty will be enough?” The cheap bell overhead jingles as we enter the Stop-NShop right off campus. “For me,” Landen answers heading to the beer coolers. “But what are the rest of you fuckers going to drink?” Tension is rolling of him and I wish he’d just lighten up already. One girl blew him off, big damn deal. I lift a case of beer from the cooler and am about to suggest he crack one open right now to take the edge of when he starts chatting up the cashier about nearby liquor store. I’m starting to think this girl stole his dick or something. We get into his truck and even though I don’t feel like hearing the high school drama, I can’t help but ask. “Dude, liquor?” “It’s necessary,” he says, like I’m a dumbass for not getting it. “Have anything to do with that girl blowing you off at orientation earlier?” He frowns without looking at me, his eyes still searching for the liquor store. “Something like that,” he says, licking his lips like he can’t wait to be shitfaced. O’Brien sober is intense. I have a feeling a wasted O’Brien is going to be akin to wrangling a wild animal. Part of me wonders if we should say to hell with it and call it a night early. But then I remember Kelsie and those short fucking skirts and tight tit-revealing tank tops she wears. Surely she’ll bring a friend or two. Landen might need more than one girl to deal with his shit. Threesomes always helped me to take my mind off the pain. O’Brien is already deep into his bottle of Johnnie Walker by the time we arrive at Blackburn’s. The townhouse is a two-story with a balcony and it’s packed. I keep making comments about how stoked I am to kick Blackburn and Taite’s asses at beer pong, but really I could give a fuck. I just want to him to relax and find a chick to help him forget the blonde from orientation. Music fills the townhouse as we make our way inside. A few girls give us interested looks so I smile back. O’Brien doesn’t bother, probably hurting their feelings. Maybe I’m looking at this all wrong, and he’s the perfect wingman. He can piss them off and I can kiss it all better. The kitchen is at max capacity as we squeeze in and set our case of beer on the counter. O’Brien clutches his bottle like a security blanket. I would get the awkward psycho as a roommate. Naturally. I vow to fix him, because hell, I’m a fixer apparently. I check my phone and send texts to a few other female friends in case Kelsie doesn’t show or disappoints with her friend selection. “Hey, man. You okay if I take off?” I glance up to see O’Brien looking like a cornered animal ready to bail. “Aw hell, dude. Kelsie’s roommate is all excited to meet you. What’s the problem, man? You need a hug?” I slip my phone in my pocket and mock his intense ass with open arms. “Come to Papa.” “Get the hell away from me, dickslice,” O’Brien says, shoving me backward. I frown, because damn. Dude can pout. “Come on, O’Brien. Don’t be a pussy. So some chick blew you off. There’s probably a dozen or so here who’d probably be happy to blow you off in a way that doesn’t make you all pouty.”

“Fuck you,” he returns, before taking another long pull from his bottle. “What’s going on, ladies?” Ben Blackburn booms, swiping Landen’s bottle and taking a swig before handing it back. Christ. This should end well. “I’ve killed guys bigger than you for less,” O’Brien tells him. Blackburn laughs like he’s amused, and I picture Landen smashing the bottle over his head. “Don’t piss him off. He’s already trying to bail,” I say as a few other guys from the team cram into the obscenely overcrowded kitchen. “Afraid we’ll kick your ass at beer pong?” Blackburn challenges, backing up to lean against the fridge. “Yeah, shit keeps me up at night.” O’Brien takes another swig from his bottle. “Let’s get Taite and do this,” I say while stepping in between them. I am going to pay for sex tonight, I think to myself. Only not for me. Never in my life have I met someone more in need of a vagina. “Taite’s working something right now. Probably best to leave him be. Besides, I can handle you girls all by myself.” I follow Blackburn’s line of sight to where Taite is hitting on some chick. I can’t see her but I can see a short dress and long legs, so yeah, good for him. “I’ll be on Blackburn’s team,” a younger guy whose name I can’t remember volunteers. We make our way into the living room, which is thankfully less crowded. I’ve just started setting up cups in a triangular formation when Landen bugs out. I watch in horror as he darts around the table, leaps like goddamn Olympian over a couch, and presses Lucas Taite against the wall with his forearm. “Jesus, O’Brien. What the fuck?” I hear Taite choke out. My thoughts exactly. Making my way over to them, I hear Landen say, “There are a hundred other girls here. Find one.” Oh hell. I look over, and sure enough, the girl next to Taite is the very same blonde hand grenade that set O’Brien off earlier. Wonderful. Mentally I try to do the math and figure out if I’ll have enough cash on hand to bail him out of jail tonight. “I’ll have you kicked off the team for this,” Taite threatens, but O’Brien isn’t deterred. “How about I break your goddamn legs and then neither of us will play?” “Taite, you good?” Blackburn calls from behind us. A small crowd is forming. “Yeah,” he says, straightening as O’Brien backs off, allowing Taite and me both to finally fucking breathe. Taite mutters something to Landen that I don’t catch before my crazy roommate storms out the back door. “Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for watching our improv hour,” I shout with a bow. “Please enjoy your evening and don’t forget to tip your beautiful waitresses.” The crowd disperses with the exception of a redhead who has a mouth that stops me dead. Her lips were made for kissing, and well…some other things I probably shouldn’t say, but most likely will. The slap to the face will be worth it. She doesn’t look like any of the girls here. She’s sure as hell not from California. Her hair is a deep dark reddish-brown with a hint of almost purple. The lacy dress thing she’s wearing is short enough that I can already imagine getting my hands under it. But it’s the black boots that hit just above her knees that do me in. That space of flesh between the top of the boots and the hem of her dress has my dick hard already. Kelsie calls out to me from the doorway, but I can’t bring myself to care. Red is glaring fiercely at O’Brien’s back and before I can blink, she’s going after him. Blondie

tries to stop her but fails so I step forward and give it a shot. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” I tell the petite girl with fiery emerald eyes. “He needs time to cool off.” She turns her laser beam stare on me and I’d flinch if females intimidated me. But they don’t, so I smirk instead. “Well you’re not me. So mind your own fucking business.” God help me, that mouth. I want to bite those pretty red lips. Just before I tell her she can put them around my— “Corin, I’m fine. It’s fine,” Blondie says. I hadn’t even seen her approach. Corin. I like it. It’s unique. Suits her. “No, it sure the hell is not fine.” With that, she walks out the screen door letting it bang shut behind her. Blondie and I don’t bother with introductions, we just watch Red lose her shit on O’Brien through the screen door. “So you don’t want her but no one else can have her either? Is that it?” Damn. Girl does not mess around. And she’s obviously a lot more in the know than I am. Landen slurs something at her that I can’t make out from where we are. The music is too loud. But I hear Corin loud and clear. Because she’s yelling. “I’m Layla’s roommate. And I know exactly who the fuck you are. You’re that guy. The one who tossed her aside for some chick in Colorado and then showed up here to ruin her life.” O’Brien looks like she’s punched him. I’ve never seen dude look so beaten down. Blondie walks past me out the door. The three of them engage in some weird triangular exchange and I’m slightly worried for O’Brien’s safety, but he’ll live. Or I’ll get a new roommate that’s less fucked up. So it’s a win-win. I turn back to the party while taking a drink of my beer and tip my head back because it’s almost empty. Crazy roommates can drive a man to drink. They should’ve put this shit in the brochure. Kelsie is less than a foot away and as I swallow, she slides up beside me and wraps an arm around my waist. “Skylar,” she purrs, moving in closer and pressing her full breasts against my side. “Missed you.” I nod. This is more like it. If O’Brien won’t blow off steam, I’ll blow off enough for the both of us. I open my mouth to ask if she wants to find an open room so we can get “reacquainted” but Corin picks that moment to burst through the door and glare at me like I’ve committed a cardinal sin. Her gaze drops to Kelsie at my side and she contorts her face in some feral female look of disapproval. “Figures,” she mutters before moving on. “Whoa,” I call out, disentangling myself from Kelsie and telling her I’ll be right back. “Slow down, Red,” I call out, following Corin out the front door and catching it with one hand just before it slams in my face. She whirls around on the porch and folds her arms across her chest. “What?” “What did you mean by ‘figures’?” I make sure to overly mock her with a sassy head tilt and huffy female impression on the last word. She grins in spite of herself. “I know you. You’re that guy.” “That guy? What guy? The guy that’s about to get laid? At a party? In college—as in two consenting adults enjoying each other while they’re young enough to do so?” Her eyes narrow and, holy fuck, I almost back up. “Ugh. Get away from me. Go back to your overly spray tanned consenting adult.” I frown. Catty little minx, this one. “No. I want to know why I’m some horrible guy because there is a willing participant who’d like to sleep with me. Clearly it’s not you. So why all the hostility, Red?”

“It’s Corin,” she corrects. “No,” I say, stepping close enough to lift a strand of her hair and twist it lightly between my fingers. “That, sweetheart, is red.” She licks her lips and so help me, I want to get on my knees and beg her to tell me what it takes to get her to go home with me. There’s a flicker, a flash of lust that flares in her eyes and hope explodes inside my chest. Maybe I can somehow work this to where I get to see that clean white skirt on my bedroom floor. I want to hear that pretty mouth moan my name while Red apologizes for being so rude. Damn it to hell, I want to pull her red fucking hair. “Do you have protection?” she asks suddenly. Maybe she wants me, too. God bless America. I have to be careful, though, because she’s looking a little cagey. “I do,” I say, because hell yeah I do. I may be the easy guy, but I’m not the knock you up or give you a venereal disease guy. “What about birth control?” “What about it?” Now I’m confused. Isn’t that her end of the deal? “Is she on it?” “Who?” Stop mind-fucking me, Red. “That girl,” she begins, pointing toward the house. “The consenting adult in there.” I shrug. “Hell if I know.” “And you were going to sleep with her. What if the condom broke? They’re not one hundred percent effective, you know.” Annndd suddenly this is a public service announcement. No thank you. “I truly appreciate your concern.” I shake my head because fuck this. “But you’re right, I should get back to my consenting adult. Why I’m out here with a pain in the ass one is beyond me.” Shaking my head at my own stupidity for following an obvious nutjob outside when I could’ve already been rounding third with Kelsie, I turn to go back inside. Strangely enough, I can’t seem to remember exactly what Kelsie looks like or what she was wearing. Just as I step into the doorway, Blondie storms out past me and there’s something in her expression that I recognize. Guilt. Whatever happened, she feels guilty. I open my mouth to say something but I have no idea what to say. Red shoots me a glaring look, a nonverbal warning to keep my mouth shut. I watch her put her arm around the other girl and lead her gently away in the direction of the dorms. Maybe O’Brien’s particular brand of crazy is rubbing off on me, because not only am I pretty sure I’m going to see Red again, I think I actually want to. No, I know…I really, really want to.

that I’m not enjoying this five-mile sprint after practicing my ass off, but you about done “N ot yet?” My shirt is fucking drenched with sweat so I pull it away from my skin. “Because I’m damn sure done.” Landen doesn’t even slow down. “You can go back to the dorm if you want. Bake some cookies or some shit.” I pull my arms over my head in hopes the stabbing pain my side will ease up. “Fuck you, dude. Seriously. You need to get laid something fierce.” “You volunteering?” I’m so happy his uptight ass made a joke, I could run another few miles. “Naw, but I’ll take an ad out in the school paper if you want. Uptight motherfucker, needs a release, preferably of the vagina kind.” Finally, dude laughs and stops to put his hands on top of his head. He did seem to patch things up with Taite at practice so that’s a bonus. Might even be able to take him out in public again after all. I stretch my calves and wipe the sweat from my forehead with the bottom of my shirt. Two girls running by glance over and smile so I smile back. As usual, O’Brien doesn’t even seem to notice. “Your Georgia peach not giving it up or what?” I lean over to clutch my knees. I’m pretty sure we’ve gone at least five miles from the dorms. “If you love something, sometimes you just gotta set it free, or some bullshit.” “I can hardly believe you don’t have a girlfriend,” Landen deadpans. I shrug like I can’t believe it either. “Yeah, well, your girl’s redheaded friend was pretty damn fine looking. Hook a brother up.” “She’s not my girl.” Landen rubs his side a little harder. I knew I wasn’t the only one getting a cramp. “So I noticed, and by the way, your pussy lips are showing. You gonna do anything about it or what?” He doesn’t answer so I continue with my motivational speech. “I got Red’s number last night,” I tell him casually even though I didn’t. I can get it if need be. “I could call and see if they want to hit a club or two with us tonight. And while I’m nailing Red, you and Peaches could knit some sweaters together or something. Maybe a nice little satchel for her to put your balls in.” He actually appears to contemplate my offer for a minute. Then he nods. “Yeah, you do that. And maybe don’t mention to Red that you plan to “nail” her. She seems pretty lethal. Probably mess you up pretty good if she heard you say that.” I chuckle lightly. “Don’t worry about my game, O’Brien. I got this.” Or I’m going to have it anyway—tonight if I play my cards right, which I always do. Thanks to the modern miracle that is social media, I’m able to find SoCal student Corin Connelly from Brooklyn, New York online. I send her a friend request and then a message mentioning a few clubs Landen and I are considering hitting up later.

Just when I think I’m screwed and may have to tell O’Brien it’s a no go, a message window pops up on my phone and she tells me they may or may not be going to Shortie’s. Which means they are. After an hour of convincing Landen to get his shit together and come the fuck on already, we head to Shortie’s. It’s a trendy off-campus spot in walking distance. The moment we walk through the doors we’re assaulted by the smells of alcohol and sweat. And sex. Yes, please. Maybe I’ll learn to love college after all. Landen is tense—rigid as a corpse with a laser beam stare directed at the center of the room. “It’s not the senior prom, man. Relax.” But my words don’t help. We take a seat at a high-rise table beside the dance floor and I flag down a waitress. She doesn’t ask for ID when I order us two beers and I pray that’s a good sign for how this night will go. The moment Blondie sees Landen watching her like a hawk, she goes all deer in head lights and spins away from Red before disappearing into the crowd. Landen mumbles something about being right back and dips out on me as soon as the waitress drops off our beers. More for me, I suppose. I keep an eye out on my roommate in case he rockets off into another rage-filled fit, but so far he’s just talking with his blonde blast from the past at the bar. Close talking. Her body language says she’s into it, so I return my attention to my drink. “Here we go again,” I mutter under my breath. If the scene taking place at the bar is any indication, I’m in for another night of angst-filled insanity when all I want to do is drink, dance, and get laid. I never intended to be the sidekick to the craziest motherfucker on campus and yet, apparently that has become my lot in life. Clearly the universe is punishing me for getting more than my share of ass in high school. Greed is a sin, after all. So is lust. And gluttony and…whatever. I’m probably going to Hell regardless. My dad’s half Jewish and my mom’s Catholic. Not sure what that makes me but we only attended any kind of services on rare holidays so I’m probably screwed already. “You saving this one for someone special?” The voice is feminine and familiar. It warms my blood and turns me on all at once. Red. Her crimson nails trail the neck of the Bud Light bottle before she lifts it to her similarly stained lips. My cock twitches hard in her direction. “I was, but I guess he got a better offer.” I nod toward the bar where our roommates are practically taking body shots off one another. “So glad the kids are playing nice this evening.” “And what about you, Skylar? Do you play nice?” Her silvery cobalt blue dress reminds me of smoke blown into the dark and hugs her curves in all the right places. I want to lick every inch of her. Twice. I stand to join her on the dance floor, grabbing my beer as I go. “No, sweetheart. I don’t.” The tiniest hint of a smile lifts one corner of her mouth. “Then how do you play?” I lead her onto the floor, pulling her backside close to my front so I can whisper my answer in her ear loud enough to be heard over the music. “Dirty, Red. I play dirty.”

kylar ’s voice lingers in my ear, the damp heat sending shivers down my spine. His hands stay in the appropriate zones while we dance but his fingers graze the edge of the danger zone when I let them. I want him. I hate myself for wanting him. He’s the exact brand of asshole I promised myself I’d never get involved with again. Self-centered, arrogant, and probably has the attention span of a gold fish. I’m the shiny new toy that has his attention at the moment but I know the next short skirt that comes along will probably distract him so I decide to enjoy the heady sensation of being bathed in male attention while it lasts. My ass grinds against what I can tell is an impressive erection and a small moan escapes my throat. He’s an athlete, one hell of a dancer, and probably has enough stamina to do this—and more—all night. Don’t go there, Corin. I step a little further away and he backs off. A wave of disappointment rushes over me but when I see the apologetic grin on his lips, I smile back. He took the hint and is being respectful. So maybe not the exact brand of asshole I thought then. Skylar twists and dips me old-fashioned Hollywood style and it effectively eases the tension between us. Somewhat. I let out a small laugh and he pulls me close. “You’re good at this,” he says easily. “You’re not so bad. Haven’t stepped on my feet at least.” Skylar wraps an arm around my waist and we sway to the beat of whatever song is playing. I feel it, the intensity radiating off of him. The want. The physical attraction. And that’s why this is dangerous. Because the old me would’ve given in, would’ve taken him up on any and all offers he made. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Corin,” he says over the music but I can’t be sure I heard him right. “What?” “I wouldn’t hurt you—by stepping on your feet. I’ve been going to clubs in LA since I was fifteen.” His hands slides just below the small of my back sending a zing of awareness up my spine. I attempt to force a smile. Oh you’d hurt me plenty, Skylar Martin. I know his type. Smooth—too smooth. In love with the thrill of the chase but loses interest in the prey once it’s caught. Been there, screwed that, got the battle wounds to prove it. “Well I’ve been going to New York clubs since I was thirteen and I will hurt you if that hand ventures any lower.” Skylar grins then glances over to where Landen and Layla are now dancing beside us. Landen is a solid dancer and even though I haven’t made my mind up about it him yet, I see it. The undeniable chemistry between him and my roommate. The way several other girls are checking him out but he only has eyes for one. Something twinges low in my stomach but I don’t think it’s jealously. Layla is a sweet girl—she definitely deserves to have a guy swooning all over her. Envy, I guess. I’m a little envious that Landen’s universe seems to center around where she stands. But I can’t help remembering her words and the hurt so heavy in them when she told me what happened back in high

S

school. “Spin me,” I say, just to have an excuse to check on Layla. “That direction.” I jerk my head toward where they’re swaying intimately to the slower song that just began. I hip check my roommate and she smiles to let me know she’s okay. She also flushes like she’s embarrassed and I wonder what dirty thoughts were playing in her pretty head before I interrupted. “You good?” She smiles and nods before looking back at Landen like…I don’t even know. Like he’s some golden Greek god sent here from the heavens. He handles her carefully and protectively while they dance, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s not the stable type that can keep it together forever. While he isn’t checking out any other women, he is definitely giving a severe warning glare to every male in the vicinity. “Dance with Layla for a minute,” I say to Skylar. I break in between Landen and Layla, practically getting burned by the heat singeing in the small space, without waiting for a response from my dance partner. “Two things,” I say, leaning up on my tiptoes to reach Landen’s ear. He arches an eyebrow but says nothing. He looks as if I’ve snatched his remaining supply of crack away and he’s jonesing for another hit. Jesus. This is going to be harder than I thought. I go into level ten bitch mode. “One, I like her,” I tell him as we both watch Layla laugh at whatever Skylar is saying. “She’s good people. And I basically have zero faith in humanity and generally don’t care for other females at all, so it’s saying something. I’m not going to be happy watching some asshole hurt her.” Landen swallows and nods. He opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off. “Two, I know a lot of people back in New York who don’t like it when I’m unhappy. For the right price, I can have your balls removed in pureed into my morning smoothie if I so choose. This is not an empty threat O’Brien.” Landen’s eyes snap to mine and I can tell he’s checking to see how literal I’m being. I narrow mine to let him know I am deadly serious. “Got it,” he answers quickly. “Balls gone.” He grins but I maintain my glare as he returns to my roommate. The more time I spend with her, the more I truly care about Layla. There’s something so sweet and genuinely pure about her and I can just see the world trying to taint it. I don’t want that to happen. I want her to get to hold onto that and I know first hand how heartbreak can steal it from you. Skylar waves me over to the bar and I take the drink he offers. “Whiskey sour,” he tells me. “Seemed like it suited your taste.” I grin before taking a sip. “Oh yeah? And what do you know about my taste?” His eyes widen briefly before zeroing in on mine. Skylar downs the remainder of his own drink in one swallow and leans forward. “You smell like strawberries. Sweet and tangy and unique. My money says you taste just like that.” I nearly choke on my drink but I work hard to hide my reaction. Heat shoots straight to my core, warming the space between my thighs to a dangerous level. The steady pulsating throb begins—a warning that I am about to go where I’ve promised myself I wouldn’t. For a moment I’m at a loss for words—which never happens to me. Skylar wants to taste me. I want him to taste me. I want him to drown in me, to make me feel that feeling, the one I crave so deeply it hurts. Closeness. Intimacy. The high of being wanted so profoundly threatens to disorient me. But just before I tell him to take me back to his place so we can check his theory on my particularly flavor, the fog clears and I realize my roommate is missing. “Keep your money, Martin,” I say while pulling my hair up off my neck to alleviate my

overheating situation. “Let’s go find our friends.” The moment we step outside into the cooler evening air, I see them. And I see red. Fucking Landen O’Brien, I swear. He’s practically mauling my roommate against the building. But the way her body is responding I’d say she’s into it. A few more minutes of watching and I might be into it. “Get some, O’Brien,” Skylar mutters on a laugh. “’Bout damn time.” I smack him lightly on the chest with the back of my hand. I don’t know if they hear us approaching so I call out a warning before they take their public steamy make out session any further. “You did not just give her the very first kiss of her life in an alley,” I say loudly. “Although, it looked pretty hot, so I might allow it.” Layla turns ten shades of pink so I wink at her. Good for her for finally taking what she wanted. No shame in that. Though this is not what I had in mind when I wanted her to get kissed, I can see now that he’s the only one she would’ve wanted this with. “Jesus, Ginger. You have fan-fucking-tastic timing. Anyone ever tell you that?” Landen looks ready to throttle me. Down, boy. “Anyone ever tell you the definition of romance? Here’s a hint. It doesn’t include dirty alleys downtown. And for the record, the last guy who called me Ginger hasn’t been seen or heard from in months.” I’m not even close to joking, but Skylar chuckles from behind me. Glad I amuse you, Martin. We call one of the campus cabs to take us back to the dorm. I’m surprised when the boys get out and walk us to our door. It’s a serious hike back to the athlete dorms and I tell Skylar so as Layla and Landen step a few feet away from us. “It’ll be good for O’Brien. He’ll probably want to fucking jog home—burn off some of that excess energy.” “Oh yeah? And what about you? You got any excess energy pent up?” I can see the tension rolling off of him and I can guess how he’d rather be working it off. Skylar watches me closely, as if he can sense that I’m testing him. Looky here, ladies and gentlemen. He’s pretty and he has a brain. “Nope,” he says evenly, placing his hands in his pockets. “Cool as a cucumber. How about you, Red?” My heart pounds a little harder because yeah, there is definitely some residual lust simmering in my system from the dancing and grinding and feeling him close against me in the cab. Whatever cologne he wears should be renamed “to hell with your inhibitions” or “leave your panties and self-esteem at the door.” But I won’t give in. Not tonight and maybe not ever. I am here for a reason and the reason is not to get fucked and fucked over by the school’s star goalie. No matter how hot or how appealing he is. I’m here for me, dammit. If I wanted to throw everything away for sex I would’ve stayed back in New York. I fake an exaggerated yawn. “I’m good. Pretty much just ready to crash.” Skylar makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Neither of us will surrender tonight. We need a subject change. Quickly. “So how did practice go after Landen attacked what’s-his-face at the party?” Skylar launches into a replay of his version of the party then tells me that the guys actually talked

and things were cool between by the end of practice. This must be the difference between high school and college. Or maybe it’s the difference between New York and California. Because where I’m from, a standoff like that between to hotheaded alpha males would’ve resulted in someone getting his legs broken sooner or later. Once the conversation dies down, there is silence filled only with definite interest and arousal reeling in Skylar ’s unwavering gaze. It’s intoxicating and heady stuff being the focal point of so much concentrated male desire, but I won’t be taking that downward spiraling path. Not here. Not now. This is my do-over, dammit. I turn toward my roommate and gesture at the door. “You kids about done here?” Landen blinks as if he forgot anyone else existed. Clearly I’ve interrupted yet another intimate moment. “Seriously, Ginger, your timing is impeccable. Can I get you a collar with bells or something so I can hear you coming next time?” I smirk and roll my eyes. Dude will live. “So we have an inter-squad scrimmage Tuesday night if you ladies want to come,” Skylar says casually as we approach the door and the end of our evening. “Well see,” I say, making sure to only convey the same or less interest than his tone did. He gives me a sort of sweet goodbye hug but I refuse to inhale his scent for fear I’d relax into his arms. I disentangle myself as smoothly as possible and reach for the door but it won’t budge. “This door ’s locked after hours,” I inform everyone. I forgot about needing our IDs to get in and left mine in the dorm. “We have to go in the side entrance. Layla, do you have your card with you?” She says she does but it doesn’t matter because some guys come barreling out of the door anyway. I grab it with one hand to make sure it doesn’t shut. There is a small commotion behind me so I turn to see what’s happening. One of the guys maybe, maybe brushed by Layla and Landen is going fifty kinds of psycho. He’s got his arms around her and is murmuring soothing words like someone made an attempt on her life. Layla looks…annoyed and a little embarrassed. I look at Skylar, who looks as confused as I am about the whole thing. Okay then, so O’Brien is officially a total nut job. Time to find my roomie a more mentally stable option in the male companion department. But then he looks helplessly at me and I see a swirling storm of emotions in his eyes that I don’t expect. Fear. Concern. Outright anxiety that makes him look ten years older than he is. It’s the same exact combination that used to seize me with panic when my mom would go out for the night and I had no idea if she’d return in one piece. He says something that sounds like “you have to tell her,” but Layla shrugs him off. “I don’t have to do anything. Goodnight, Landen. Skylar,” she says without a backward glance at any of us. Whoa. I think that’s the coldest I’ve ever seen my sweet little roommate be. Toward anyone. I have no clue what’s going on but I know it’s time for the boys to leave. “Go home, soccer boys.” I wink at Skylar to let him know I’m not holding him accountable for whatever the hell just went down. Even if I can’t give him what he wants, I’d like to be able to be friends. He seems like a fun guy and it’s not like anyone’s beating down my door to hang out. I can’t help but be irritated that Landen’s mood swing kind of put a damper on what was supposed to be a fun night and I’m sure it shows on my face. We make our way up to our room without speaking but once we settle in, I have to ask. “So what was his deal back there?” I pull off my boots and begin removing my jewelry. “What do you need to tell me?” Layla looks like an angry kitten. “Corin, who cares about his deal? What the hell was that about

tonight?” I roll my eyes because hello, I saw just how upset she was about him shoving his tongue down her throat. “Don’t pretend to be mad…I saw you two in that alley. That was hot. Seriously. And I’m not sure he’s playing with a full deck, but it was about damn time someone made a move.” “You promised me before we left there’d be no talking about Landen O’Brien tonight.” She’s got me there, but still. Like my mom’s friend Tony always says, don’t bullshit a bullshitter. “Yes, I did. And I kept that promise. I didn’t hear anyone talking about him tonight. Until now.” I head into the bedroom to put on pajamas. “Okay, so you found a loophole. But I call B.S. because you know what I mean.” I sigh loudly because, come the hell on. I’m not blind. But I shouldn’t have gone behind her back and I am sorry for catching her off guard. “Fine, I’m sorry about the sneak attack. But we were already planning to go out, and Skylar texted and asked if we wanted to meet up. I didn’t even say that we did. I just casually mentioned where we were going. It’s a free campus, Layla. They can go out wherever they please.” “I realize this. I just didn’t know you were going to be slipping intel to the enemy.” I can’t help but laugh out loud. “If that’s how you treat an enemy, God help any boy you consider an ally. In fact, you still look a little dazed and turned on. Please don’t try to make out with me tonight. I’ve already had my share of sexually confused partners— I’m sticking with straight boys only from here on out.” Layla steps out of the bathroom where she was brushing her teeth. “Okay,” she says, pointing her toothbrush at me. “We are definitely coming back to that.” I giggle at the shock all over her face. “Seriously, Layla, he’s got some issues, like probably some major ones that are going to make anything with him difficult… but can you imagine turning away now and just forgetting about that kiss? ‘Cause I gotta say, I’m having trouble forgetting about it and I was just a casual observer.” “See, now you wanna make out with me, don’t you ?” she teases before joining me on our small futon. “Stop changing the subject,” I tell her, because I sense that there is so much more we should be discussing than this. “He just… he just makes me so… ugh!” “Horny?” I offer. Layla looks legitimately appalled. “Oh my God, never say that word to me again. I hate that word. It’s so crude and not even a halfway decent way to describe what Landen O’Brien does to me.” “Mmhm.” I look her over carefully. All the signs are there. Flushed skin, diallated pupils, and trembling hands. She’s definitely turned out just by talking about him. “You can clutch your pearls all you want, Georgia. But that boy twists you all up, and I don’t think kissing’s gonna get the job done.” “Whatever. You basically said he was nuts. Now we share one kiss and I’m supposed to do him?” Good point. “Ah, no, you’re probably right. Maybe hold off on that. But sometimes we have to let things happen to us, you know? Even uncontrollable things that might turn from bliss to shit before we can rein it in. Because that’s living. Things have to happen, you have to go on scary adventures, follow your heart, and let it lead you down dark alleys that may dead end in a pit of despair. Otherwise you’re just existing, and who the hell wants to settle for that?” “But…” Layla gapes at me, but I’m not done. She’s sheltered and innocent and I get that. But I know from experience that what I saw tonight wasn’t just a hook up. “But nothing. You need to decide if you’re ready for this, ‘cause it’s coming. He’s here, and I saw the look on his face, in his eyes, every time I interrupted you tonight. There’s a storm brewing between the two of you. Either hang on, let it pick you up, and risk letting it beat your heart to hell and

back before setting you back down or you can batten down the hatch and tell him to leave you the fuck alone. And if he hurts you, I’ll be here to put a hit out on him with a few simple texts and a photo. But you have to know it’s a possibility. Which, judging from the condition you were in earlier… you do.” My heart beats a little harder in my chest as memories I’ve tried to bury fight their way to the surface. Yeah, some bad things have happened to me but some pretty amazing things have happened too and I don’t think I’d trade them for the pain. Layla looks torn and utterly lost. “What if I don’t know what I want yet?” I shrug. It’s kind of a relief to know she doesn’t have her shit together any more than I do. “Then you need to tell him to back off till you figure it out. Good luck with that…And hey, whatever he was wanting you to tell me so bad… you can. I know it may not seem like it after tonight, but you can trust me.” “I know,” Layla says softly. “Boys,” I huff out to lighten the mood. “Can’t live with ‘em, can’t tie ‘em to your bed and use them as you see fit.” I shake my head to convey my disappointment in this. “Damn societal norms.” Layla laughs and I continue. “Maybe just take it one day at a time. Like, what do you want right now?” She yawns, causing me to yawn right along with her “Right now, I want to eat those double-stuffed Oreos you’re hoarding behind your makeup bag and watch Pitch Perfect until I pass out on this futon.” I get up to grab the cookies in question, and Layla’s phone vibrates on the desk beside mine. “Can you grab that while you’re up please?” she asks, a quilt she brought with her to her chest. I hand over the Oreos and she opens them. “Why do they even bother to make regular Oreos when there’s double stuffed?” I hand her the phone without answering. “You have one new message.” She texts for several minutes before the movie starts and God love her, girlfriend is so transparent. Clearly Landen isn’t finished working her up for the evening. After stuffing my face with an Oreo and queuing up the movie, I wait for her to finish up. But four Oreos in and she’s still glued to her phone. Rookie move. Skylar will text tomorrow and I’ll wait at least two days before answering. “Layla, we watching a movie or what?” “Um, yeah, I—” her phone buzzes, interrupting her response. “Layla, pause or play?” I wait for her to look up but she doesn’t. “Layla?” Dear Lord, girl. Make the boy sweat a little at least. I make a mental note to work with her on this. “Play! Hit play!” She sits her phone aside and I shake my head in the dark. College is turning out to be a lot more interesting than I expected.

fter the mundane mind-fuck that is freshman seminar, Corin and Layla ask if they can use O’Brien’s truck to run to Target and buy a fan because their AC went out. I try to play it cool when they start talking about sleeping in the nude, but damn. The thought of Red naked nearly breaks me. I keep giving Landen hell about being so focused on one girl when we’re surrounded my so many, but in a way, I’m starting to get it. Sometimes a certain one just appeals to you on a level beyond comprehension. I’ve dated a lot of girls and I like to keep it casual. Dinners, movies, parties, hook ups. Easy peasy. I don’t play games, don’t lie about wanting more, or even give off any false illusions of being boyfriend material. Did that once in high school and it was an epic fail. Soccer will always be my first love and my plan is to go pro as soon as possible. Literally every girl I’ve ever hung out with has been cool with this. But Corin Connelly confuses the hell out of me. After practice, I decide to shower and wear cologne in hopes of at least attempting to prove I’m not the repulsive caveman she seems to think I am. An hour later, we pick up the girls and they climb into the backseat of the truck cab. Neither of them say much, and Landen is his normal barely communicative self, so I fill the silence talking about practice and share my opinions on our teammates in hopes he’ll chime in. Mostly he just checks out Layla in the rear view and tosses her wounded please-take-me-home-from-the-pound puppy looks at her. Target is full but the fan selection isn’t great. Apparently a lot of freshmen are without AC. Corin and Layla debate on what type of fan to get for fifteen minutes before I grab an oscillating floor fan from the shelf. Seriously. Chicks. It’s a fan. Not like they have to marry it. As we leave the store, it start to sprinkle a little. Corin and I argue about whether we should get Mexican food or run by the diner closer to campus where she’s planning to put in a job application. By the time we reach O’Brien’s truck, the sprinkling has turned to an all out downpour. The poor fan is going to get soaked, or the cardboard box it’s in will “I’ll run back in the store and buy a tarp,” I say just before running quickly through the parking lot. I peruse the lawn and garden section before finding a blue one that should work fine. I pay for it then run back outside and grab the fan from the girl. Landen gets out to help me secure the tarp over the truck bed. He looks flustered and I wonder if it was safe to leave him alone in the enclosed space with Layla and Corin for that long. We’ve just hit University Boulevard when break lights appear for miles in front of us. I’m starving but traffic looks pretty backed up. “Is there another way? A side street or anything?” Landen asks. I assume he’s asking me since no one else is from here. But I haven’t exactly mapped out campus yet. The rain begin coming down in sheets. “Damn,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m thinking you could take Langston over to—” I’m interrupted by the squeal of tires and a loud thundering sound of the impact of metal on metal.

A

“Fuck!” I call out as my neck jerks forward and then back. One of the girls screams and before I can blink, O’Brien damn near jumps over the seat, practically taking Corin’s head off in an attempt to get his arms around Layla. I look back, confused at why he’s having another one of his major freak outs even though she seems fine despite a little shakiness. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” he says to her, rocking her gently while Corin and I meet each other ’s confused gazes. Before I can ask if they’re okay, I hear sirens. I look everyone over and O’Brien definitely got the worst of it. I have a small gash on my forehead and Corin is rubbing her neck but we’re okay. Landen is bleeding, maybe from the arm and maybe from the head, I can’t be sure with him all over Layla the way he is. A beige Suburban hit us and is still connected to O’Brien’s tailgate. “You need to get back in the driver ’s seat,” Corin says softly, “before the cops think something majorly shady is going on.” She’s right, and I make a noise of agreement but Landen doesn’t detach from Layla.. “Fuck it,” I say, sliding over into the driver ’s seat. One little reckless op ticket won’t kill me or my soccer career. And clearly some major shit is happening between Layla and Landen at the moment so I take one for the team. Without another word, Corin climbs over the center console and buckles herself into the passenger seat. I shrug in her direction and she gives me a half-smile that pretty much says ‘our roommates are insane. What can you do?’ “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” we hear Landen murmuring over and over. “Not your fault,” she responds. I’m guessing the cops might have a different opinion, but now isn’t the time.

e give the police our licenses and proof that Landen has insurance on his truck before going to the university medical center to get checked out. Skylar gets two butterfly stitches over the tiny gash in his forehead. Layla and I are given prescriptions for what basically amounts to extra strength Tylenol for possible whiplash. O’Brien on the other hand is beat to hell and back—something I think the cops noticed was odd for someone in the backseat, but they didn’t ask very many questions. Mostly they seemed to want to get the paperwork handled so they could get out of the rain. He has a gnarly looking cut down his forearm and nearly a dozen stitches by the time we leave. His truck was towed to the nearest body shop so have to take a cab back to the dorms. “Well, this was a hell of a first day,” Skylar says as we get out of the cab. Layla looks ready to collapse, which is apparently fine because Landen doesn’t appear to have any intentions of leaving her side. “Corin, would it be okay if, um, Landen stayed in our room tonight?” She turns to him before I can answer. “I mean, if you don’t mind.” “It’s cool with me,” I tell her before Landen can respond. “But don’t athletes have to check in or something at curfew?” “Yeah we do,” Skylar breaks in. “But I can call Dean or Mike and tell them what happened.” “Do that,” Landen says, pulling Layla closer. I’ll give him this much, he might not be the most well balanced person on Earth, but he obviously loves my roommate very much.

W

I can tell that our AC is still out the minute we step into the stuffy dorm room. I cuss myself for not remembering to grab the damn fan. Landen tells Layla to shower and I glance over and see that she’s shivering. Maybe we don’t need the fan after being soaked in the rain. Once she’s safely ensconced in the bathroom, he turns to where Skylar and I are sitting across from one another. “Start talking, O’Brien,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “What happened tonight, that wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity of normal behavior.” Landen sighs and lowers himself onto the futon a few feet from Skylar. “She’ll hate me for telling you. But she should’ve told you by now.” My stomach tightens in nervous anticipation and I scoot to the edge of Layla’s desk chair. This can’t be good. “She’s obviously got something major going on,” Skylar chimes in. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.” Landen nods. “She has a condition. It’s like…Epilepsy almost. But not exactly.” I frown. “You’re not really clearing anything up, O’Brien.” Though some things are becoming

clearer. Why she’d never been kissed, for example. I’m wondering if she could attend high school normally with a condition like that. He wrings his hands and I can literally feel the tension rolling off of him. “What happened tonight could’ve been so much worse. That accident could’ve triggered an much more terrifying episode than either of you saw.” “How so?” I tilt my head. “I mean, like she could’ve died? Or what? I need details here. I live with her. I want her to be safe and okay, but how can I look out for her if I don’t even know what the hell I’m looking for?” Before he can explain anything further, Layla steps out of the steam-filled bathroom in her robe. She glances at each of us and apparently none of us have a poker face for shit. “Guess the freak’s out of the bag,” she says before disappearing into the bedroom. The wounded expression in her eyes makes me want to console her, but I’m not quick enough. Landen isn’t far behind her. I exhale softly and lean back into the chair. Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting any more answers tonight. Skylar opens his mouth to say something, but we can hear Landen through the thin walls. “Please don’t be mad. I didn’t tell them everything. Just that you have a condition and that what happened in the truck could’ve been a lot worse. Corin really needs to know, Layla. She’s your roommate for God’s sakes.” We don’t hear much of the rest, but the murmur of their voices though the wall is constant. “Well this is pretty fucking awkward,” Skylar says. “They need to just bang and get it over with.” “How romantic of you,” I deadpan. “Just sayin. You know I’m right.” I nod. “Oh yes, ye of infinite wisdom. Please do tell me more about how sex fixes everything.” I lean forward and fake being wildly enthused at the prospect of him dropping more knowledge on me. “Mock me all you want, Red.” He shrugs. “But that much pent up sexual frustration is not healthy for anyone. You saw how he reacted with Taite.” I did, but I still see no reason to agree with the arrogant ass out loud. We hear what sounds like sobbing through the door and I cast a long glance a the sliding door barrier between us and them. “Let them work out it themselves,” Skylar says, barely looking up from where he’s texting on his phone. “Pretty sure it’s about time for them to.” I glance at my own phone as if I have better things to tend to than being ignored by him. But I have no messages and no missed calls so I’m just scrolling through old ones. “Mike and Dean took care of curfew for us,” Skylar informs me several moments later. I try not to feel at all relieved that he was texting dudes and not a girl. “Well that’s good.” I glance around at the small space. There’s just the one futon out here. “So, um, you’re staying too?” Skylar follows my line of sight to the futon beneath him. “Ah, no. Definitely not.” Of course not. Big man on campus has better places to go. I’m sure she’s lovely. “Use a condom,” I say without looking up from my phone. “No glove, no love.” A low chuckle reverberates from his chest. I feel him leaning closer toward me. “You jealous, Red? Think I’m bailing to go bone some chick instead of having a slumber party with you?” I scoff a little too loudly. “No. I literally couldn’t care less what you do. And by the way, only prepubescent boys still refer to it as boning.” Skylar watches me with entirely too much knowledge in his gaze. “My bad, sweetheart. Let me rephrase. Did you think I was going to go meet up with another female, one who’d be more than willing to let me strip her naked and appreciate every inch of her body with my tongue, making her moan my name and beg for my dick?” He leans even closer until he’s practically whispering in my

ear. I refuse to move a single muscle and let him know he’s affecting me in the slightest. “Would you beg, Red? Naw, I bet you wouldn’t. You’d probably make me beg, wouldn’t you? Show me that pretty pink pussy and tease me until I was on my knees and—” “Enough,” I say, jerking away from him. “Lovely portrait you’ve painted and I’m sure you’re company for the evening will be the epitome of class.” It’s bad enough I’m nearly positive my roommate and her man are engaging in some pretty heavy foreplay judging from the sounds coming from the next room. But this, Skylar whispering dirty promises in my ear, it’s too much. Can maintenance seriously not fix the fucking AC? It’s a million damn degrees in here. Skylar is entirely too calm, looking aroused and sleepy at once. “She is,” he says. “The epitome of class, as you say. Far too good for me.” “Good for her.” I nod towards the door. “You should get to it then.” “Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to my friend Jax’s apartment with me. His place is empty because he’s trying to sublet it and hasn’t yet.” I don’t even bother to hide my shock. “Me? Why?” “Because I enjoy your company and constant rejection so very much, obviously. But if you’d rather stay here and enjoy the sounds of our roommates dry humping all night…don’t let me stand in your way.” He holds up his phone. “Jax said the place is ours for the night if we want it.” I swallow hard. “That sounds…” Dangerous. Stupid. Tempting as hell. “Okay.” Before Skylar can respond, Landen slides the partition between the rooms open. Both he and my roomie look a little disheveled to say the least. “You okay?” I ask Layla. She nods and I notice her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are a little glassy. “Hey, um, so I have a buddy with a studio apartment nearby and he’s out of town. This has been a shitty night for all of us so Corin and me were thinking maybe we’d go crash there. It’ll give you guys some time to talk in private.” Landen nods but Layla shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. We can sleep out here and Skylar can have my bed.” “No offense,” I tell them both. “But as much as we enjoyed that little interlude, uh, we’re going.” If I have to lay on a bed beside Skylar all night and listen to her and her man grinding all over each other in the next room, I will probably spontaneously combust. Pass. I grab my purse, and Skylar pulls himself up off the futon. “Besides, it’s too damn hot in here and Skylar ’s friend has working AC.” At least I hope he does. “Okay…but can I talk to you for a sec, um…in the hall?” Layla directs the question at me—looking seriously concerned that Skylar might try to gobble me up like the big, bad wolf. Jesus, Connelly. Do not think about him eating you in any way, shape, or form, if you want to remain sane. “Layla, I know what you’re going to say. And it’s fine. I have it handled. Promise.” I hug her and whisper, “But be careful. You know where the condoms are,” in her ear before I leave. “Um, you be careful too,” she says, as I step out into the hall. I roll my eyes at Skylar when he closes the door. “You sure you to waste your night in an empty apartment on me? You know I’m not going to give you any.” Skylar puts an arm around me as we exit the dorm. “Who needs sexual gratification when they can have snarky insults and blatant rejection?” But he’s smiling, so I guess he doesn’t consider time with me a waste after all.

ax’s studio apartment is above a pizza place and it’s not a long walk from the dorms. He went to my high school and graduated with my sister, Katie. He works for a music executive and travels so much his apartment is empty most of the year. If I wasn’t an athlete and didn’t have to spend freshman year in dorms, I’d be all about living in Jax’s bachelor pad. I use to key he gave me when he found out I was going to SoCal and Corin and I step into the darkened apartment. A black leather sectional and flat screen television take up one half, while a California king-sized bed occupies the other. “Bathroom is back there,” I inform Corin in case she needs to go. “Behind the bar area.” Beside the bedroom is a sleek granite countertop that borders the stainless steel fridge and a matching stove. “Good to know,” Corin says, setting her purse down. “So, um, I can sleep on the couch.” I pull an annoyed face. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can have the bed. I can handle the couch.” She doesn’t argue, just moves her purse to the bed. “I didn’t exactly bring pajamas.” “Neither did I.” I walk over to an armoire and grab a pair of navy blue and gray plaid flannel pajamas. “I’ll take the bottoms. You can have the top.” Corin nods, looking more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. “Um, thanks.” “You’re welcome.” It’s been a long fucking day and she looks as exhausted as I feel. “I’ll be over here, on the couch. If you decide you need an orgasm or two, let me know. Otherwise, I’m just going to crash.” “Hold your breath until that happens,” she tells me before slipping into the bathroom to change. I strip down quickly before yanking on the pants. When she steps out of the bathroom, I nearly lose my fucking breath. Which, literally never happens to me. Her bare creamy toned legs peek out from the bottom of the button down pajama top. Damn those legs would look fantastic wrapped around my waist. Or my neck, thrown over my shoulder while I —” “Skylar?” I do my best to talk my dick down but he is actively staging a protest. “Yeah?” My voice sounds like I’m being strangled. I might as well be. “You think Layla’s okay? I mean, do you think it’s okay that we left them alone? I got the feeling she wanted me to stay.” I do my best to clear my lust-fogged brain in order to form actual sentences. “Yeah. I got the impression she was more worried about you than herself.” Corin nods. “Maybe she was.” “Care to share why that may be? I know I say a lot of shit, but you’re not afraid of me or anything are you?” If all my running my mouth has made her think I’m like a date rapist or something, I’m going to feel like the scum of the Earth. Corin laughs, easing my concerns. “No. Not at all. I think she was just worried about me. Worried I might be too tired to battle your consistently clever wit and would give into one of your innuendolaced invitations.” “Would that be the worst thing in the world?” I get it. She’s not an easy lay. But they’re acting like I have genital warts or something. I get tested. I use condoms. I’m fucking fantastic in bed and I would

J

make damn sure she had a good time. “Goodnight, Skylar,” is all she says before climbing into bed. I flop onto the couch and lace my hands behind my head. “Hey, um, Sky?” I hear her soft voice call out just as I start to fall asleep. “Hm?” “The way Landen and Layla are—so in tune with one another—so completely crazy about each other to the point I think they might actually be crazy…you ever feel that way about anyone?” The face of a girl I dated my senior year of high school comes to mind briefly. But as much as I cared about her and wanted to help her with her issues, it wasn’t anywhere near the level of intensity of what I can see Landen feels for Layla. “Nah. Not really. Why? Have you?” She’s silent for a moment before she answers. “No. Not even close.” She’s East Coast and I’m West Coast, but maybe Corin Connelly and I aren’t all that different after all. When I wake up the next morning, Corin is gone and the top to my bottoms is folded neatly on the bed. Along with a note. Thanks for letting me crash. Had an early class. –Red I smile at the use of my nickname for her. The day blurs by me and I’m warming up for the scrimmage before I realize I just spent the night with a girl for the first time since I hit puberty without getting laid. Huh. And yet, I enjoyed myself. I don’t know what to make of this exactly. It’s not until I see her and Layla coming down the bleachers that I realize how truly fucked I really am. She has this glow around her that makes everyone else pale in comparison. And I can honestly say, I’d rather spend the night just hanging out with her, waiting to hear what smart ass thing she’ll shut me down with next, than sleeping with a random I don’t care to see the next day. I’ll be damned. After the game, the four of us hit up a nearby diner for milkshakes and cheese fries. Well, the girls do. Landen and I stick more to the lean protein side of the menu since we’re in season. I make a joke about watching my girlish figure and Corin laughs and pokes me in the side. I feel Layla’s eyes on us and I can tell she’s wondering what happened the night before. That makes two of us. She’s also looking a little wary of me and protective of Corin, but surely she knows by now Corin Connelly can take care of herself as she is fond of reminding me. Our waitress comes to take our order and she’s cute enough. Short and curvy in an athletic sort of way. I can’t help myself. I have to know if Corin would care if other girls flirt with me and vice versa. I’m a vain bastard, what can I say? I pay extra attention to her ass as she leaves and there’s a disturbance on the other side of the table

but Corin isn’t involved. “He’s doing it on purpose,” Landen tells his girlfriend. “To make her jealous.” I want to growl at the jackass. How does he know me that well already? Corin is still completely oblivious and is busy fiddling with sugar packets. Something Layla says makes Landen laugh. I look away from the waitress after she sets our food down to glare at them. “What’s so funny?” “Layla is getting upset because you’re working so hard to get Corin’s attention.” I smirk at my asshole of a roommate. “Nice, man. ‘Preciate it.” I decide I don’t care about my athletic dietary restrictions and shove a handful of cheese fries into my mouth. “Fucker,” I mutter to Landen across the table. Corin rolls her eyes and shakes her head before diving into her own food. Maybe she really isn’t into me and could honestly give it a shit about what I do or don’t do with other women. “Well I hardly think undressing the waitress with your eyes is the way to get Corin’s attention,” Layla huffs at me with all the fury of an angry kitten. “It’s okay. I can get her number for you, if you’d like,” Corin offers nonchalantly. “I manage just fine on my own, thanks,” I mumble. I am so over this entire conversation. I devote my full attention to my food. Corin and Layla jump into a conversation about classes and notes and comprehensive exams. I offer my two cents about the ridiculousness of certain classes but mostly I keep quiet. For most of the meal, Layla and Landen are too lost in their own world to remember that we exist. I clear my throat and Layla jumps, which makes Corin laugh. “It’s like eating a meal with dogs in heat,” I whisper to her. The waitress returns and flirts with Landen, so clearly I’m losing my touch. Hanging out with Corin is going to be bad for my mojo. I can feel it already. And yet, I invite her to go to study hall with me after we eat because I am apparently a glutton for punishment. It’s obvious our roommates are going to want time alone, which is probably why Corin agrees. But I don’t give a fuck about study hall or the fact that I need to log some of the mandatory hours required by my coach. I need answers, dammit. And tonight, Corin is going to give them to me. I hope.

’s got study hall for athletes at the library, so I think I’m going to join him. My Calc class is “S kylar a bitch, and the professor speaks zero English, so I’m going to see if there’s a tutor available to meet with me.” Layla frowns at me like I’ve said something wrong. “Kind of late for a study session, isn’t it?” Landen asks, arching a brow at his roommate. “Relax, Mom and Dad. We’ll be home by curfew,” I tell them. Skylar glares at Landen but doesn’t respond. “Corin, you can stay out as late as you need to. I’ll go to Intro tomorrow and get the notes.” Layla responds with enough enthusiasm that I know she’s okay with more alone time with Landen. “Fuck Intro,” Skylar declares, nearly scaring the waitress to death as she hands us our checks and Layla a to-go cup for her milkshake. “Dean and Mike can go the rest of this week. We’ll take next week. This every other day shit is for the birds.” “Agreed,” Landen says, adding a few bills to the twenty Skylar left. I notice there’s a phone number scrawled on the ticket and I can’t help but wonder which guy our waitress left it for. Neither of them take it. “Hey, can I get a ride to the body shop this weekend? My truck should be fixed, and I need to run downtown to pick it up or the bastards are going to start charging me for leaving it parked there.” While the boys launch into a conversation about picking up Landen’s truck, Layla turns to me. “Hey, run to the ladies room with me?” I nod and we tell the guys we’ll meet them outside in a few. As soon as we enter the ladies room, Layla pins me with a look that says we’re in here to handle more than bladder relief. “Please be honest with me. I’m not an idiot, and I highly doubt the boys have mandatory study block right after a scrimmage. Where are y’all really going?” “I love when you say y’all, Georgia.” I wink at her but she narrows her eyes at me. “Geez, Lay, relax. It’s not mandatory. It’s just a blocked off time where the athletes get to use the Arts and Humanities library and it’s closed to everyone else. Tutors are available and they give free help. I mentioned I was going to get a job to pay for a tutor since I’m probably going to bomb Calc, and Skylar invited me along—says I can say I’m on the girls’ soccer team and the tutors don’t really check to verify.” I hold out my hands in a gesture to let her know I’m telling the truth. There’s nothing shady going on other than me using the student athlete perks. “There’s an assignment due tomorrow that might as well be in Japanese. Actually, that’s the only language my professor speaks and unfortunately I don’t.” Layla sighs. “Sorry to get all in your face, but I don’t want to be that roommate.” “Um, okay. What roommate? Far as I know, you’re the only one I got.” I glance at the mirror above the sink and check my makeup. I got a little sweaty at the soccer game—purely due to the weather of course, not because watching Skylar block damn near every goal got me all hot and bothered—so I’m surprised my eye makeup isn’t smeared. “The one always running you off so I can be alone with my boyfriend,” Layla clarifies. “You’re not, trust me. If you were, I’d totally tell you to get a room. I really do need help with my homework, and if I can scam a free tutor…then hell yeah. Who knows? Maybe hanging with Skylar

will be beneficial after all.” “Yeah, looked like y’all were negotiating some benefits earlier.” I see my chinks pink in the mirror. So, okay, I’m attracted to the cocky punk. I’m human. I say nothing but Layla isn’t finished with her assessment of the situation. “Seriously, you can tell me to mind my own business, but what’s the deal with you two?” I smile at my reflection—thankful that I don’t have food in my teeth. “If I knew, I would tell you. But honestly, I have no idea. He knows he’s not going to get a hook up from me, so I don’t really know what his deal is. I’ve told him I’m not playing, that I’m serious about not sleeping together. No matter how much I like him, that I’m not going to change my mind.” I find the new lip-gloss I bought at the drugstore in my purse and put some on. “If he’s pursuing me because I’m a challenge, then he’s an idiot who’s wasting his time. But if I can get help with Calc and a place to hang occasionally so you and Landen can have some privacy, then I don’t see the harm.” I shrug one shoulder. “His friend’s studio apartment was pretty bad-ass, by the way, so everybody wins.” “Well, everybody except Skylar.” Layla shakes her pretty blond head. “I mean, all you can do is be up front with him I guess. But Corin, be careful. He doesn’t strike me as the type of guy who gets turned down a lot.” I can’t help but grin. No, he probably never gets turned down. Except by me, but for some reason, he still wants to hang out with me. His words play again in my head. Who needs sexual gratification when they can have snarky insults and blatant rejection? “Deal. And hey, if you ever don’t want to be alone with Landen, you can, like, signal me or something, and I’ll just refuse to leave the room.” Layla looks horrified at the thought of not wanting to be alone with Landen. “Um, actually—” “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” “You guys ready?” Layla asks the boys as we approach them. Something is going down though because Skylar and Landen are toe to toe with shoulders squared. Layla and Landen do that thing where they forget the rest of the word exists and Skylar and I walk outside. “What was that all about?” I jerk by head toward our dinner companions “You and Landen looked ready to throw some bows.” Skylar shrugs. “Landen always looks like that. He’s an intense dude.” I frown. “True, but he seemed pissed at you specifically this time. What happened while we were in the ladies room?” He side eyes me as we walk. “He was warning me to not push you into anything. To behave myself, I guess.” “Really? Have to admit, I didn’t know O’Brien cared so much.” But I know it’s mostly because he cares about Layla and she cares about me, so I get the Landen O’Brien concern in an indirect sort of way. He doesn’t comment, just holds the enormous library door open for me. The library smells like hundred-year-old paper and dust. But I love it. It’s peaceful. Like a church —minus the judgment. Skylar watches my face as we enter, and I pretend not to notice. But I know what he sees. My mouth dropping at the sight of the cathedral ceilings, my eyes brightening as they scan sky scraping towers of books.

“This place is really getting you off, isn’t it? I can’t help but wonder if you’d look this worked up after a raging orgasm. Let’s find out, shall we?” I ignore him. I’ve gotten used to his in inappropriate banter. Mostly. When he whispers dirty things to me in public, and especially in close proximity to our roommates, I still blush. And worse, used to it or not, Skylar Martin affects me. My stomach tenses at his request. He’s only half kidding, maybe not even half. My heart beats a little heavier against my chest and I work hard to appear unfazed. We trade under the table kicks and above the table flirty jabs for the next hour while I study. A few times I go to the tables where the tutors are and get help with a few Calc problems. Each time I can feel Skylar ’s appreciate eyes on my body. At one point I catch him watching me chewing on my pencil as if I’m purposely seducing him with my nerdy habits. I ask him for change for the vending machines so I can grab a soda because I need the caffeine boost. With the change comes a slip of paper I recognize as the ticket from dinner. The ticket with the waitress’s phone number on it. So he did take it then. I avert my eyes quickly before any emotion registers on my face. I’m not hurt by that. I offered to get him her number myself. It’s fine. I don’t care. Keep going, Connelly. Maybe you’ll convince yourself. Skylar leaves the ticket out and I know he’s testing me. Trying to determine whether or not I give a shit. I don’t. Except I kind of do. But I shouldn’t and I know I shouldn’t. When the tension thickens between us to a point where I can barely sit still, I stand and make my way to the reference stacks in the back of the room. “Corin,” he says evenly from behind me once I’ve reached a dead end between rows. “Stop, please. I want to talk. Actually talk.” I turn around and smirk at him. “Funny, I don’t think you’ve stopped talking since we got here.” He shakes his head and folds his muscular arms across his broad chest. “No. I want to cut the bullshit for one night. You’re agitated and I don’t think it’s about Calculus. Tell me what’s bothering you. Say something real, dammit.” “Something real, dammit,” I repeat. His eyes are bright, emergency flares in the darkness aimed at me with a ferocious intensity that presses me further against the wall. His arms uncross and he places his palms on the wall on both sides of my head. He’s caging me in and demanding answers I can’t give him. “No more games, Corin. Not tonight.” Realizing I’ve been holding my breath, I exhale and then inhale deeply, causing my chest to graze lightly against his. My nipples practically high-five his. God, he smells so good. I would drink whatever body wash he uses with a straw. Fine. He wants a real answer. I give him the best one I can manage while drowning in the warm clean scent of him. “What do you want me to say, Skylar? That I’m attracted to you? That I want you? That every time you open your mouth I wish it was on me? I’m not going to say any of that. Because you already fucking know it.” My teeth are clenched in frustration but voice is so breathy that it’s embarrassing. “That’s a start. Either you’re in to me or you aren’t, Corin. If you aren’t, say the word and I’ll leave you be. But I’m done playing this mind-fucking game with you.” “I’m…I’m…” “You’re what? A virgin? Saving yourself? What?” I shake my head. He wouldn’t understand. You don’t tell a guy you have a minor flirtation with that

you had a miscarriage after your piece of shit boyfriend “accidentally” knocked you down a flight of stairs in your shitty apartment. Or that you ran away at fifteen to escape a mother who treated the living room like a brothel only to end up exactly like her. You sure as hell don’t tell him how the guy who knocked you up pimped you out to his friends for money or that being pregnant at eighteen made you feel like you might actually have one good thing in your life. But you lost that too so you ended up here trying desperately to create some semblance of a future for yourself. No, no way in hell. “I’m celibate,” is all I give him because it’s all I have to give. “For personal reasons that are none of your business.” He scoffs, and I’m overcome by the urge to slap his handsome face. “Don’t scoff at me, Skylar. I’ve had sex. I know what it’s all about. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just not going to do it again until I decide to.” His brows thread inward. “And what do you think will make you decide to? Tequila?” Bastard. My hands thrust out and shove against his hard chest. “Move, asshole. Better yet, go to hell.” “Not until you tell me why—why you’re celibate and why you look at me like you want to eat me alive only to dip out immediately after any conversation or moment that ventures beyond surface level.” I bite my lip hard because I did not know he’d caught those looks. Or my tendency to duck and hide to avoid intimacy. Turns out you’re not as smooth as you thought, Connelly. He’s been paying closer attention than I realized. But I’m still not ready to cut myself open and let all the ugly fall out. “I’m not like Layla, Skylar. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, a lifetime’s worth already, ones I’m trying very hard not to repeat. I don’t want to get sidetracked by sex-that’s not what I’m here for.” “What are you here for, Corin? I’m not trying to be a dick. I genuinely want to know. I feel like we talk around everything but never actually about anything.” I tilt my chin up because everyone else who knows me would laugh if they knew why I was really here. “I want to go to law school—and before you burst out laughing—yes, I’m serious. I want to be a child advocate. It’s a job I heard of where you’re like a legal voice for kids who need someone to make sure they end up somewhere good and safe. Not all of us had that growing up. So I’m sorry if your precious male pride is wounded because my legs didn’t fall open the second you indicated that you were interested. If that’s what you’re looking for, look elsewhere.” He gapes at me and I do an internal fist pump at leaving his arrogant ass speechless for once. Taking advantage of his moment of stunned weakness, I move past him but somehow his hand shoots out and catches me. Strong warm fingers encircle my upper arm, gripping tightly enough to dent my flesh but not enough to hurt. “Corin. Stop. I need you to listen to me very carefully.” My skin tingles to the point of searing where his fingers are. I glance down and stare at our joined flesh. “You listening, sweetheart?” Swallowing hard, I nod. “I am not every other guy you’ve been with. Yes, I am attracted to you. Yes, I would like to fuck your sweet body into submission because you are always fighting me and what you feel for me. But rest assured, I do not put this much effort into anything or anyone that I don’t care about. I like you. I want to continue getting to know you. And maybe I’ve done a shit job of showing it with the innuendos and teasing, but I respect the hell out of you.” His words have a direct line to whatever body part controls my heart rate. I make a mental note to ask in anatomy class. “You do?”

He smirks as if I’m ridiculous not to realize this and releases my arm. I breathe a little easier though I kind of miss the contact. “Of course I do. You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful. You’re a loyal friend to your roommate from what I’ve seen and even though I’ve never heard of what you want to be when you grow up, I know it’s a hell of a lot nobler than my career choice. So yes, baby. I respect you very much. I just wish you weren’t so closed off sometimes.” I’m closed off because you wouldn’t respect me if you really knew me. The words “I would like to fuck your sweet body into submission” just keep circling my brain on a constant loop. How easy it would be to let him. To give up control and just let go and let him give me what we both know I need. But I know how that vicious cycle plays out. Soon I’d be using sex to validate our relationship and then I’d be using it to gage my own self-worth. I will not be that girl again, not even for this beautiful man who swears he respects me. “I’ll work on that,” I finally say, easing the tension just a fraction. “I’ll try to at least.” His eyes cloud over, his gaze growing darker by the minute. “Do you want me to leave you alone, Corin? Because I’m tough enough to take it if that’s what you want.” I can’t help but think of the accident, the way he had Landen’s back without hesitation, and how much fun we had later that night, just hanging out. As much as I’ve prided myself on not needing anyone, on not needing a man in my life period, and is certifiably crazy as this particular man makes me, the thought of him leaving me alone as he put it is painful. “No,” I whisper. “I don’t want that. I just want…” What the fuck do I want? Apparently Skylar wants to know the same thing. “Well…what the hell do you want?” My mouth tugs upward at our similar line of thinking. I keep picturing Ryan Gosling screaming a similar question at Rachel McAdams. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes briefly. “I want…I want to know where we stand at all times. I need boundaries. I want to know that you aren’t going to hook up with the next thing that walks by just because I’m not giving it up. I want us to draw a line, I guess.” “A line?” He arches a brow and folds his arms over his chest. “What kind of line?” “A friendship line,” I say, formulating my theory as I’m speaking it. “I want us to be friends who are getting to know each other like you said. And I want to keep it at that until we reach a mutual decision about whether or not we want to be more. And until we decide about being more, I’m not going to be ready for any type of sexual relationship. Do you think you can handle that?” It’s a lot to ask of a red-blooded American nineteen year-old male. I know this. I just need a little more effort. And some patience. Skylar strokes his chin thoughtfully. He’s making me sweat—dragging it out the same way I’ve done to him. I examine my Lincoln Park After Dark manicure as if I couldn’t care less what his answer is. But I care, God do I care. And he apparently has more patience than I do. “For God sake’s Martin, say something.” His lips twitch. “I’m thinking it over. For the most part it’s a reasonable enough offer, but my dick thinks you’re a mean, mean, girl.” My eyebrows lift and I flash him an amused smile. “Well my body thinks you’re overestimating your ability to fuck it into submission.” I win. Skylar looks like I just hit him with a flying throat punch. Tension ripples his angular jaw line and I have the strangest urge to lick it. Damn hormones. They

are not cooperating at all. “Corin…I’m going to back down on the inappropriate comments the best that I can.” He leans into my space but I refuse to budge. I remain statue still as he moves my hair off my left shoulder. “But trust me when I tell you, I could do things to your body that you don’t even have names for. And I feel it, the way you tremble when I touch you unexpectedly, the way you clench your delectable thighs together when I say those dirty things in your ear. So please, inform any parts of your anatomy that doubt me that I will be proving them all kinds of wrong as soon as you give me permission to do so.” His erotic promise lingers in the air between us. It wraps around me like a boa constrictor, starting at my throat and squeezing hardest low in my stomach. “So the line,” I choke out. “Yes, Red. You can have your line.” He winks, gracing me with a wicked grin. “For now.” We walk slowly back to the table to gather our things. “Sky?” He turns around and waits for me at the door. “Yeah?” “Don’t call the waitress.” He grins, tossing the crumpled ticket in the trashcan on the way out. “I was never going to, sweetheart.”

he’s afraid of sex. I don’t know why exactly, but worrying about has kept me up half the night. Someone had to have done something to make her afraid of it. Apparently I care about her even more than I realize because the caveman urge to find whoever hurt her and break his goddamn neck is overwhelming. Jesus. I’ve been hanging around O’Brien too long. But for all her smart-mouthed strength and determination, the look she gets every time we move past her imaginary fucking friendship line is laced with desire and unadulterated fear. And I’m not a particularly scary guy. Girls usually look at me like a prime cut of beef that’s fallen from the sky after they’ve been starved on an island adhering to a strictly vegan diet. I’m used to flashing eyes, sultry stares, and tongues rolling over lips before teeth sink into them. Corin gives me a tiny hint of that, quick flickers of want that are almost immediately replaced with a wide-eyed fear that’s so uncharacteristic of her that it makes my chest ache. She stands up to O’Brien like it’s nothing. I’ve heard her make multiple threats involving his balls. And dude is not one hundred percent stable. But I mention tasting her sweet lips—yes, both sets, because honestly, I want to taste them both pretty badly—and she looks like I’ve threatened to throw her in a pit of vipers. My ego has developed a slight complex from the constant rebuffing. My dick is not even on speaking terms with me at the moment. Strangely, it’s not either of them currently making my decisions for a change. I’m actually thinking with the right head for once. Girls like Corin Connelly do not come along every day. She’s strong and confident, witty, and frankly, more fun to be around than well…anyone. But Christ Almighty I just want to understand what her damn deal is. I’m contemplating the dynamic of our relationship—mostly the way that we seem to disagree on pretty much everything—when the idea begins to form in my head. Sometimes Corin and I listen to each other, and on a few rare occasions we’ve even compromised, accepting each others opposing viewpoints as not complete nonsense. But there’s one thing, one solid thing between us that we consistently disagree on. Our roommates. I’ve seen O’Brien’s rage and I’ve seen him up close on the soccer field. Dude is as intense at they come. None of that is shit compared to the way he feels about Layla Flaherty. So my position on them is that they’re in it for the long haul. Ten, twenty, hell, fifty years from now, they will be attached at the hip replacements. But Corin disagrees. Corin thinks they’re too young to have met the one and that when we graduate they’ll part ways. We discuss it over lunch in the Student Union between classes. “It’s a phase, Skylar. We all go through it,” she tells me while dipping her fries into mustard, because of course she can’t just eat ketchup like a normal person. “Layla’s just temporarily in love with the bad boy. But it’s not a forever thing. His anger and his inability to control it will end them eventually.” She reiterated that when that happened, she’d be there for Layla. And since I’ve been deemed O’Brien’s best, well, technically, only friend, she told me I’d have to be there for him. But she’s

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wrong. Little miss sophisticated seen-it-all New Yorker doesn’t seem to know jack when it comes to relationships. I can see how it looks that way, like Landen and Layla are burning so hot they’re bound to burn out, but I also know how I felt about my first car. It was a vintage Aston Martin, something I bought myself for cheap and fixed up. She’d been nearly totaled and was minus an engine but I named her Marty and I straight up loved that thing. Deep, intense, all-consuming love. I washed and waxed her regularly with my own two hands. No one and I mean NO ONE touched her. I was very particular about who got to actually ride in her. I even turned down pussy on occasion to be with her. I was going to be buried in that car. So I know about love, and I know that the way I felt when my parents traded Marty for a top of the line Audi without telling me. I was fucking livid. I wouldn’t touch that damn Audi, and call me spoiled, I didn’t talked to my parents for a month—not that they necessarily noticed. Marty was mine. Marty mattered to me. I paid for her with money I’d made working summers at the country club and I kept up the insurance and maintenance my damn self. They had no right and frankly, I’m still pissed that they didn’t get that I’d rather have something of mine that I worked for than something they decided to bestow upon me. Assholes. But I remember the way I felt about Marty, the way I looked forward to seeing her, the way I made sure she didn’t get dinged or scratched or dented by some careless dickhead not paying attention. I would’ve put that car in fucking bubble wrap if I could have. And still, all that, and it’s nothing compared to O’Brien and the twisted way his heart has melded itself to Layla’s. He will never let her go. That’s what Corin doesn’t see. That he is in this for life and judging from the way Layla shattered in his arms the night he wrecked his truck, the feeling is mutual. I want to know what makes Corin so damn jaded and cynical. Mostly I want to know what makes her immune to my charms, the ones that have worked impeccably for me all these years and seem to have very little affect on her. So the next night after our enlightening lunchtime conversation, I’m laying it my bed in the middle of the night when the idea comes to me. She’ll never compromise on her stance on Landen and Layla, never admit that they’re it for each other. It’s going to take a good night’s sleep for me to work out the logistics, but the basic plan is already forming. If I can get her to bet me that they’ll do anything for each other, I will win. And when I’m proven right, she’ll have to take me to the one place where she can’t hide whatever it is she’s hiding. Here I come New York.

ince we came to our little agreement, Skylar and I have been spending a lot of time together. Either at the library during his study hours or at Jax’s place playing video games. We even took a semi-date-like trip to the movies and the nearby mall. He still whispers dirty promises in my ear from time to time, but when he’s busy with soccer or class, I kind of miss the adorable pain in the ass—sexual innuendos and all. I don’t know what’s happening to me. When he drops me off at my dorm after one of our trips to downtown, he walks me to the door. We say goodnight and I open the door to see Landen’s giant sneakers next to Layla’s desk in the common room. “Oh awesome,” I say. “Your roommate is here. Guess I get to be the third wheel tonight.” Skylar smirks. “I could sneak you into my dorm. Doubt the guys would mind.” “I bet.” Part of me is tempted to see if he can finagle missing curfew and we can go to Jax’s place. “I’m tired and ready to crash so I’ll just sleep on the futon and hope I don’t hear anything cringeworthy in the next room.” Skylar hesitates but I can tell he’s about to say something. “Spit it out, soccer boy.” He grins. “I could stay if you want. You know, just so you’re not the third wheel. We don’t have curfew check tonight so…” I contemplate this. If we lay the futon out, it’s nearly a full size bed. I can handle that, right? Lying next to him all night on a futon. “The futon is comfortable but kind of small…” “I can sleep on the rug.” He pulls a serious face when I laugh. “Hey, I went to summer camp. I can rough it.” My eyes roll involuntarily. “I bet there was no floor sleeping at the Beverly Hills overnight camp.” Skylar laughs and nudges me. “Go on inside, Red. We can watch a movie and pass out. I’ll behave myself. Scout’s honor.” “Were you ever really a boy scout?” He digs his hands into his pockets. “No, but I got the gist.” “You’re a mess.” I step the rest of the way into the room and turn on another lamp so it’s not so dim. The bedroom door is closed but we needs pillows and blankets off my bed. I tell Skylar I’ll be right back and tiptoe into the bedroom as quietly as I can manage. I’ve just about gotten my comforter and pillows off my bed without disturbing the lightly snoring spooners in the next bed, when my damn wall shelf falls to the floor. “Sorry, shit. Sorry!” I say softly as my alarm clock goes down as well. Layla sits up looking disoriented and wild-eyed. “Dammit!” My picture frame must’ve fallen onto my bed because it hits loudly when I pull the comforter. I’m like a bull in a china shop. Clearly a life of crime is out for me. “Shh, you’re okay, baby. It’s okay,” I hear Landen saying soothingly to Layla. Oh God, her condition. The one that’s like Epilepsy or something. “I’m sorry, Lay. You okay?” She says something that sounds like yes but Landen is practically smothering her to his chest so I

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can’t be sure. “What the hell, Ginger? Just turn the damn light on,” he barks at me. “I thought you might be naked,” I hiss back at him. “I’m not trying to scar myself for life.” “Landen!” I hear Layla say, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure means she is in fact naked. I flip the lamp switch on but don’t look at them as I scramble to grab my stuff and clean up the broken pieces of picture frame on the floor. It wasn’t even a picture of anything special, just one New York to remind me what I’d left behind and was never going back to in case I got tempted to skip class or drop out or something. “Told you two push pins wouldn’t be enough to hold all that,” Layla says, nearly giggling at me crawling on the floor like a lunatic. “Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Sorry. I figured you had company so I was just going to grab my pillow and blanket and sleep on the futon.” “We were just sleeping, Corin. You don’t have to give up your bed. We can go sleep on the futon,” Landen tells me. “It’s fine, um, Skylar ’s here so…” “Oh, Corin, no,” Layla says, with regret in her eyes. This girl. God love her sweet little heart. She acts like she is now the keeper of my virtue. “Not what you think. Shut up,” I say under my breath. I have no desire to dicuss my sex life or lack there of in front of Landen. “Shutting.” “Night night, kids,” I say before exiting the room and sliding the door shut. “Sounded like that went well,” Skylar greets me on the other side. I close my eyes. I’d throw the blanket at him if I wasn’t worried there might be broken glass in it. “I am not smooth,” is all I say. “What happened?” Skylar points to my right hand, which has a trickle of blood running down the side of it. I set the blankets and pillows on the futon so I can inspect my wound. “Basically I’m clumsy as hell and incapable of not destroying everything in my path. Picture frame broke.” Blood has never really bothered me but I’m tired and starting to feel a little light-headed. “Come here,” he says, leading me into the bathroom. Skylar is surprisingly gently as he cleans and bandages the minuscule cut on my hand like a pro. I guess being an athlete prepares you for these kinds of things. “Why are we always getting injured around those two?” I almost laugh. “Seriously, they’re the ones in the angsty relationship and the two of us are just innocent bystanders that keep getting smacked with debris. And we aren’t even the ones getting to have all the hot sweaty college dorm room sex. I feel like we’re getting the raw end of the deal here.” The affection in Skylar ’s hazel eyes turns from sweet, nurturing concern to liquid heat. “You feel ready for hot sweaty sex, sweetheart, you let me know. Dorm room or otherwise.” My breath catches in my throat. That’s the confusing part. Sometimes, like right now, when he’s holding me so tenderly and tending to my wounds, I do feel ready. But the thought of it, of how I might feel and how he might act afterward, that I’m not at all ready for. “Skylar, I—” “Get out!” Layla’s scream interrupts whatever I was about to say. What the hell? Skylar and I practically sprint the short distance to the bedroom. Skylar reaches it first. “Landen?” He peeks his head in and I try to maneuver around him. “Layla?” I ask in the same questioning tone. She looks okay for the most part, just super pissed.

“We’re fine.” Landen glowers at us and Skylar pulls me from the doorway. I protest for a few seconds, demanding to make sure Layla is okay, but we can still hear them. She’s dishing out some serious anger, something about Landen knowing more about her condition and her meds and being selfish like his dad. I can’t keep up with the soap opera, but I hate that she’s so upset and there isn’t anything I can do to help. I also can’t help but feel guilty for disturbing them tonight. Clearly my interruption led to some major blowout. I jump when Landen punches the bedroom door on his way out. “Let’s go,” he says to Skylar. My mouth gapes open because seriously, what in the fucking fuck is going on here? Skylar shoots me an apologetic look and nods to the dent in the door. “I’ll pay to have that fixed. Let me just get him out of here. Call you tomorrow.” With that, they’re gone and I’m left alone with a sobbing roommate who may or may not have a deadly medical condition. Calculus has officially become the easiest part of college.

week goes by and my roommate does her best imitation of a deaf mute. I text Skylar and ask if he feels like hanging out because I need some human interaction or I’m going to lose it. He texts back and says we can order in and play video games at Jax’s later after his practice. I’ve never looked forward to cheap Chinese takeout and video games so much in my life. I love Layla, I do. But she’s barely speaking and I’m just kind of existing in her space when we’re in the dorm together. Skylar looks as stressed out as I feel when I get to the apartment that night. “Your roommate acting like a zombie too?” He nods. “Worse. Like a zombie with ‘roid rage. Which is exactly as awesome as it sounds. He’s kicking ass on the field though. We both got to start this week.” “Wonder how much long this is going to go on?” Skylar shrugs. “Until they work it out and get back together.” I scoff at him. “How can you be so sure they will?” He stares at me intently for several seconds. “You think they won’t?” I bite the inside of my cheek and contemplate the situation. “I think they might not. I think it might have run its course—this thing between them.” “Love, you mean,” he clarifies. “Whatever.” “Care to wager on it?” He has this look on his face, like we’re playing a game where only he knows the rules. “Meaning?” Skylar opens the bag of Chinese food and enticing scents waft in my direction. “Meaning if they get back together before the year ends, I win. If they don’t, then you do.” He hands over my favorite, a container of sweet and spicy Kung Pao chicken. I practically inhale it while he works on his Mongolian beef. Halfway through we trade without even verbalizing the agreement and I realize I’ve missed hanging out with him as much if not more than I miss Layla speaking to me. I point a chopstick at him. “Fine, I’m in. But what do we win?” Skylar lifts a shoulder non-committedly. “Whatever we want at the time.” I bite my lip. “Okay, but um—” “Not sex, Corin,” he says, seemingly hurt. “Jesus Christ. You think I’d make you fuck me because you lost a bet? Really?” “No. I just don’t want to get in over my head. No sex or sexual favors as a prize. That’s my one rule.” Skylar nods in agreement. “That’s fine by me. I have no rules so you can demand all the sexual favors you want. Bet or no bet. Just sayin.” “Then you’re on.” I grin and he lets me pick my fortune cookie because he knows I believe you don’t get the right fortune if you don’t pick your own. “What’s it say?” I unfold the little white strip of paper. “It’s says ‘brace yourself, for the winds of change are

A

blowing in your direction.’” “Huh.” Skylar opens his and read it aloud. “Your confidence is attractive.” “It does not say that.” I laugh and he hands it to me. It really does say that. Once we’re finished stuffing our faces, he moves to sit on the living room floor with his back against the couch. He hands me a controller and begins pressing buttons on the game console. I lower myself onto the floor beside him. “So Mortal Combat or that racing game you like?” Skylar makes a pouty face at me. “What is it with you and Mortal Combat? You know the 90’s have passed, right?” “Says the guy who still calls sex boning. Anyway, it’s the only one I can beat you at,” I admit. “So it’s my favorite.” “For now, right?” “What’s that supposed to mean?” He sighs and hands me my controller. “Well, last week that fucking annoying ass Justin Beiber song was your favorite. Then yesterday you changed the channel when it came on—said you were sick of it. Not that I’m complaining.” I open my mouth to argue but he rushes on. “Those shoes, the red ones you bought when we went to the mall a while back? You kicked them into the back of your closet after wearing them once.” Geez. Why the sudden interest in my shoes? “I’m sorry, Sky. Did you want to borrow them?” I smirk, but he levels me with a hard glare. I have no idea when he’s so uptight about footwear. “You’re missing the point.” “I didn’t realize there was one.” My mouth is suddenly dry. I thought we were going to hang out and play games like the other night. Clearly something is on his mind. “You toss everything aside when it stops holding your interest, when the new wears off. You get bored easily.” “And this is a problem because…” He smiles, but it doesn’t feel real. “Ever had a bad break up, Corin? Ever been so upset that a relationship ended that you cried yourself to sleep?” More like I cried because I was in a relationship. “God no. Every break up I ever had was like ‘good riddance.’ You know?” He nods as if he does in fact know and I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but the arrogance dancing across his face pisses me off. I narrow my eyes as he returns his attention to the animated players facing off on the screen. “You trying to say something? If you are, go ahead and say it.” He’s judging me, I think. That really fucking sucks. He was the one person that I never felt like that with, the one that never seemed to judge me. Aside from Layla, and even I see how her eyes go wide sometimes when I say something she finds shocking or appalling. But never Skylar. And now he is. With everything else going on, I feel vulnerable and fragile and I don’t like it—at all. “Forget this.” I put my controller down because like hell I am hanging out with him if he’s going to be a judgmental prick. He turns to me with raised brows. “So I like new stuff, so I don’t wear the same old stuff over and over. Maybe I had to do that my whole life and I hated it. So yeah, I work hard so I can buy red stilettos I’ll only wear once. I don’t need your fucking approval.” My voice breaks, damn him to hell. I don’t know why his few words feel like needle sticks to my soul but they do. Shoving up off the floor, I snatch my black flats up and prepare to leave. Layla and Landen are in the

dorm so I don’t know where I’ll go, but I’ll figure something out. “Hey,” he says evenly, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down awkwardly into his lap. “Calm down.” I swallow and resist the urge to bolt. Breathing heavily, I look into his eyes. “What’s with the psychoanalysis, Sky? I do something to make you mad?” He shakes his head no. “No, babe. You didn’t. I didn’t mean to be an ass or make you mad. I just thought I should warn you.” I lean back a bit because sitting on top of him like this is doing things to me. I’m tingling everywhere our bodies are touching while he remains perfectly calm and collected. “Warn me about what?” His lips curl slowly upward and he leans his forehead in until it rests on mine. “I see you, how you are. How things catch your eye briefly before you move on to the next shiny thing before you get too attached.” I wiggle in frustration, but his hands hold me to his lap. “It’s not going to be that easy with me. I just thought you should know.” “I’ve never had trouble moving on…from anyone.” Not even my own mother, not that he needs to know about her. “Because you never met anyone worth missing. Until now.” I huff out a breath, because for some majorly messed up reason, I think he might be right. “Can we just play the damn game, Skylar?” I gesture to the television and he nods. His lips flatten a bit before he smirks again. “Sure, sweetheart. We can play the game. If that’s what you want.” My heart is pounding as I slide off of his lap over into my spot. I wipe my sweat slick palms on my jeans and face the screen. Why am I so worked up over this weird ass conversation? Because you never met anyone worth missing. Until now. I wake up and glance to the window. Not quite daylight yet. Rubbing my eyes as they adjust, I remember where I am. Skylar ’s friend’s studio apartment. Someone put me in the bed. I’m fully dressed and Skylar is nowhere in sight. Stretching, I get out of the enormous bed. We must’ve dozed off watching that God awful sci-fi movie he turned on after playing Mortal Combat until our fingers cramped. After using the restroom, I check over by the couch. He’s asleep on it. He gave me the bed. He’s on his side and dark mussed hair falls in his face. Leaning down, I tuck it back a bit and stare at him. Here, alone in the quiet hours of dawn, it feels like we’ve figured out how to escape the world. Like we’re alone here in a place where nothing can hurt us, where no one can touch us. Where are roommates aren’t making our lives a living hell and my past won’t ruin how he feels about me. But that’s the problem with the quiet. The things I try to drown out bleed through to the surface, reminding me that this, this whatever it is, it’s temporary. Skylar calling me sweetheart, wanting to get to know me, video games and wrestling matches over the cordless remote controller. I smile sadly, biting back a laugh about watching him get mad because the only move I’m good at is tripping his character over and over. He might whisper his dirty thoughts to me on a regular basis, and his eyes roam my body like it’s a

work of art on occasion. But the truth is, what I have with Skylar is one of the most innocent and authentic relationships I’ve ever shared with another human being. The most, Connelly. It’s THE MOST innocent and authentic relationship you’ve ever had. With anyone. God, my subconscious is a pushy bitch sometimes. The truth catches in my throat, causing my breath to hitch and stutter on its way out. Before I can stop myself, my fingers reach out and gently graze his lips. Then the stubble on his jaw. I close my eyes, savoring the way his skin feels. Masculine. Firm. The old me would’ve stripped naked and woken him by sliding my hand down his pants. I miss the old me about now. Because, Lord help me, I want him so bad it hurts. Too bad I’m not ready to let go yet. And therein lies the biggest barrier between us. I know something that he doesn’t. Once he gets to know me, really gets to know me, we’re done. He stirs and his arms ensnare my body. “Corin,” he says into my hair before blinking himself into the land of the conscious. His hand slides down to my waist “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to attack you in my sleep.” He starts to sit up so I can have some space on the couch. “Don’t,” I whisper, needing this from him, the closeness, the comfort, and burying my head deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Don’t move yet.”

fter two weeks of Maniac O’Brien, I’m ready to lock him and Layla in a room together. He’s been insane on the soccer field and in the weight room. We’ve both been put in as starters but his drive isn’t based on the desire to go pro like mine is. Layla won’t see him and Corin won’t talk to me much about it because she doesn’t want to betray her friend’s confidence. Understandable but it still sucks. I decide to stage an intervention because something has to fucking give. I walk into the weight room after practice. One of the trainers is removing the stiches from Landen’s forearm. I hang out while he begins maxing out at the weight bench. “Killing yourself won’t make her want you back,” I say, moving over to spot him. “I thought I was alone.” I groan under the weight as I replace it on the bar. It’s twice what he normally benches. “You will be if you don’t get your shit together.” Landen lets out an angry snorting sound. “Worry about your own shit, Martin. Isn’t that what you always tell me to do?” I move to stand in front of him and he legit looks like he’s ready to bash my face in. Anyone’s face, really. I just happen to be the one standing here. “I would,” I tell him. “But your shit’s affecting my shit. Fuck, I shouldn’t call her shit.” I rubs the back of my neck and try to phrase my concerns a little more articularely. “Corin’s upset. More than upset. Layla’s barely even speaking. Cor said she goes to class, she smiles like a goddamn robot, and then she just sleeps all the time.” “Cor needs to get a fucking life of her own. Or wait, she doesn’t have a fucking life, does she?” He sneers at me and now I’m the one seeing red. What Corin does or doesn’t do is none of his goddamn business. “I’m gonna give you a pass this once, because I know you’re dealing with a…whatever the hell it is you’re dealing with. But I won’t comment about your freaky chick and you don’t comment about mine.” I know the instant the words are out, that I shouldn’t have insulted Layla. She’s a sweet girl and not really freaky at all. I don’t get time to apologize though, because Landen’s fist connects hard with my jaw. I bull-rush him to try and settle him down and something falls, clanking loud and hard beside us. Probably not the safest location for a brawl. “Goddammit, O’Brien,” I growl, trying to pin the raging bastard after he sucker punches me in the gut. He gets the jump on me, taking advantage of the fact that I lost my breath, and I’m the one on bottom when I hear footsteps coming toward us. The team pulls us apart and Coach Wicks gives us both the evil eye. “What the hell happened here?” Coach asks, looking back and forth between us. “My fault, Coach,” Landen says, because it’s true. “Girl problems,” I mutter, hoping this won’t get either of us suspended or worse. I should’ve known better than to confront him. “Won’t happen again,” Landen says, looking guilty as hell.

A

“You’re damn right it won’t. O’Brien, you’re off the team. Get your shit and go. Martin, get your ass in my office, now.” My head spins. This is my fault. I should’ve just left him be or talked to him at the dorm. “Yes, sir,” O’Brien says, grabbing his bag and storming out. “Wait,” I call out but he doesn’t turn around. I follow Coach into his office and do my best to explain. “That wasn’t all on him. It was stupid but I knew he was dealing with some—” “You want to join him?” Coach nods toward the door. “No sir,” I say, slumping in a chair and preparing to hear my punishment. “Then shut it.” Coach shakes his head. “There are rules here, rules some of you boys think don’t apply to you. I’ve had calls about you, Skylar. Professional teams calling to check on your behavior, your stats. O’Brien has been a hot head from day one, but you have a real shot at going pro. Do you still want that?” I didn’t know anyone had called about me. “Yes sir,” I tell him. “You’re suspended for the next game but we’ll keep it between us unless this happens again. Is this going to happen again?” I shake my head. “No sir.” “Good. Go on then.” I walk back to the dorm and try to figure out how to fix this for O’Brien. When I get there, he’s packing and I haven’t come up with a single solution. “Where are you going?” He looks at me like he’s on a different planet. “What?” “I asked where you were going, dude. It’s not like you have to vacate the dorms tonight. Being off the team doesn’t mean you have to leave school.” I nod at his bag. “It does for me. Back to Colorado, I guess. Till I figure something else out.” He’s a walk on that was just now put on scholarship. I forgot. Without the team and the scholarship, he probably can’t keep attending SoCal. “Shit, Landen, I’m sorry. Seriously. Why don’t you stay at my friend’s loft tonight? He’s still out of town. Sleep on it. Then maybe we can go talk to Coach tomorrow together and work something out.” “Naw, no worries. It was probably time to go anyways. Shouldn’t have come here to begin with.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Dude, seriously. Here’s the key to my friend’s place. It’s on 16th and Lane, above the pizza place. Unit D.” I hand over the key. “Just go and get some rest and we’ll grab some food in the morning or something.” When he leaves, I call coach and beg for an opportunity to explain. I tell him about Layla’s condition—what I know of it. About how Landen is a good guy and is trying look out for her but how they’ve had problems and it’s been affecting him. I even admit to insulting her and making Landen go off the hinges. “He’s a good guy, Coach. Just dealing with complicated women like the rest of us. He’s the best damn player on the team and you know it. Isn’t there anything you can do?” He listens and then he sighs loudly. “I can make some calls, Martin. But that’s all I can do.”

y phone is ringing off the hook that Saturday morning. No one calls me this early. I make a smacking sort of grab for it and mumble a hello before looking to see who it is. “Red, you awake? We need to talk.” Skylar ’s voice is urgent, panicked. Landen and Layla ended things for good, and I’ve been teasing him about what I want for winning the bet. Truthfully, Layla has been so miserable, I don’t even feel the least bit good about being right. “I’m half awake,” I say, stumbling into the common room so as not to disturb my roommate. “What’s wrong?” I hear him take a breath. “You really think Layla and Landen are done? Like, she’s totally moving on with life and will be fine without him?” I having seen Layla looking remotely like a human being in weeks. She hasn’t even been going to class. “Uh, not necessarily. Why? If this is about you trying to get out of losing our bet, Skylar Martin —” “Forget the bet for a second,” he says in a huff. “Landen and I got into a sort of scuffle in the weight room. Coach cut Landen loose because he’s just a walk on. But I told him what happened so he made some calls.” I can tell by his tone this is going somewhere bad. “He’s leaving in less than three hours,” Skylar says quietly. “For Spain, where he’s joining a semiprofessional soccer league. And from the sounds of it, he has no plans to ever come back.” My stomach plummets to the floor. “Spain? Jesus.” This is going to kill Layla. Since she’s only been half alive lately, it won’t take much. “So what do we do?” Skylar is quiet for a long moment. “Talk to her. See if she wants to go with him. He told me about her, um, condition. It’s bad, Corin. Bad enough that I don’t know why she’s even in college considering she might not live long enough to graduate.” A lump of emotion constricts my airway. “Seriously? She hasn’t said much more about it.” I want to run in her room and wrap my arms around her but my blubbering all over her won’t help anything. “Yeah. Just talk to her—do what you can do. I’ll be on standby if she needs anything. I’ll head towards your dorm now. Landen is already on his way to the airport.” We hang up and I do a few quick searches online about school curriculum. Then I step into the hall and make a necessary phone call to Layla’s aunt Kate. When I’m finished, I walk into the bedroom where Layla is now sitting up on her bed and staring into space. “Layla, can we talk?” “Sure,” she says without any emotion behind it. I lower myself onto my bed across from her. “It’s about Landen.” “Then no, we can’t.” I huff out my annoyance. “Well, I’m going to talk. You can listen.” She looks so delicate and fragile that I’m afraid this news might break her. But she needs to know and there’s no time to tell her gently. “What I’m going to say is harsh, and I’m sorry. But Landen handles you with kid gloves, and I can see how much you don’t like it. So I’m going to treat you like a big girl.” She raises her eyebrows but says nothing.

M

“You’re scared of living,” I tell her. “Excuse me?” I stand and stare her down. “I don’t know why or what the hell happened to you exactly, but you’re hiding from life.” “My parents were gunned down in front of me when I was thirteen,” she says evenly. My knees go weak and I sit back down. Holy fuck, why is this girl cursed? “Oh.” “I was going to tell you eventually,” she informs me. And about the seizures. How I moved in with my Aunt Kate after the funeral and then had my very first seizure on my third day at my new school when something exploded in Chemistry class. Pissed myself in front of everyone. I had some other… problems. Ended up hospitalized for a long time. Was homeschooled by private tutors until my senior year, when I finally decided to suck it up and go back. But no one had forgotten. They avoided me. And then Landen came and…” I nod and realize my eyes are threatening to tear up. “He told Skylar a little bit about how things happened back then. But Layla, I’m going to tell you how things are now.” “Please don’t, Corin. Just…I can’t do this anymore. Every time I think he wants me for me, it turns out everything he does is out of pity. He gave up his dream, for God’s sakes, to babysit a grown woman. He even got paid to do it.” God, I wish she’d just leave me alone so I can go back to wallowing in my pain. I nod again, feeling like a bobble head. Everything she says is true but she’s looking at it all wrong. Landen cares about her, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone or anyone has ever cared about me in my entire life. It’s a bigger deal than she realizes. Love. Being loved. It’s not as common as some people think. “Yeah, I can see how it looks that way. But you’re wrong.” “Fine. Spit it out. No more kid gloves, like you said.” I tell her about the fight with Skylar and about Landen getting cut from the team. “Well, maybe it’s for the best. Now he can go play overseas like he always wanted.” She’s so full of it but clearly she isn’t ready to admit it. “Um, yeah. There’s more. Skylar felt like shit about the whole thing, so he went and told the coach exactly what happened. Their coach made some calls and got Landen a tryout for a team based in Spain.” “Good,” she practically has to choke out. “His flight leaves in two hours.” I look at my phone where Skylar has sent the updated flight information for Landen. “Um, an hour and a half.” I tell her about some international studies information I looked up weeks ago. “There’s a shit-ton of paperwork we’ll have to do to get you admitted by next fall, if you want to still do the whole college thing even though your condition is complicated. I can help with whatever needs to be done here. So, um, you have about fifteen seconds to get your stuff together.” She looks at me like I’ve lost all my marbles. “He’s leaving, Corin. I’m letting him leave.” “Okay, see this?” I hold up both of her hands and mimic pulling gloves off. “Kid gloves gone. Now get your ass up and Pack. Your. Shit. Skylar ’s going to drive like a maniac to get us to the airport in time. It’s a twenty minute drive to the airport, but Skylar says we can make it in ten if we hurry.” I reach down and pull her suitcase out from under her bed. She’s clearly in shock so I start emptying her drawers into it. “Corin, stop!” “No, Layla. You stop. Stop hiding from your life. If someone told me right now that I had a bloodfilled tumor pressing on my brain, and I could die at any second, I’d get my ass out there and live. I’d be skydiving and deep sea diving and whatever other kinds of dangerous-ass diving they have. And if some crazy-hot guy wanted to reroute his life to spend whatever of mine was left with me, then you

can damn sure bet I’d let him. If I’ve only got a few more minutes to live, I’m tying that fine piece of ass up in my bed and making the most of it.” “I’ll hurt him,” she says barely loud enough to be heard. “When I’m gone, he’ll be hurting.” Is she high? Hello, if anything happens to this girl, we are all going to be hurting. “We all will be, Layla. And he has us—we’ll be there for each other. You can’t push us away because you’re scared that we’ll be sad when you’re gone. You doing that is as bad as your aunt trying to run your life. You don’t get to decide for us whether we love you or not. I do. Your aunt does. Landen sure as hell does.” “W-what if he doesn’t want me to come to Spain with him? And what about you? What will you do for a roommate?” I roll my eyes because I don’t know but now is not the time to debate it. “Layla, I can almost guarantee he does. But even if he doesn’t, you need to risk it, like he risked everything coming here for you. To be honest, I’m not sure I can handle looking into your eyes for the rest of the year if you don’t at least try to work things out with him. And as for me, I’ll figure something out. Maybe get a small apartment or see if Skylar ’s friend wants to sublet his. I’m pretty sure I got the waitressing job in the bag, so it’d be close.” “My aunt is going to flip out.” “Yeah, I called her. She did. Serves her right.” I resume packing her stuff because I’m pretty sure she’s on board. This is what Skylar meant—these two—there’s so much more to their relationship than I saw at first. It’s not infatuation or a bad boy phase. It’s all-consuming, unconditional love. And I’m losing the bet by encouraging her to go, but I don’t care. I just hope I’m not doing too much encouraging. “Wait. Shit. I’m doing exactly what everyone else does. Telling you what to do. What do you want to do, Layla? Where do you want to be when you wake up tomorrow? Here? Georgia? With Landen?” She doesn’t answer in words. She practically jumps off the bed and starts cramming her belongings into the nearly full suitcase. Skylar drives us to the airport like a man escaping Hell. Layla and I hop out and I have the urge to kiss the ground. “I packed the Blu-ray copy of Pitch Perfect for you,” I tell her with a hug. “I love you.” I laugh but my stomach tingles a little. She means it. And I feel the same way. “Love you too, crazy girl. Now go get your fine piece of soccer ass.” She’s nearly crying when she leaves us to run inside. I climb back into the car with Skylar who pulls up to a place where we can park. “Just in case things go sideways and one or both of them ends up needing a ride back to campus,” he says. “And here I thought I was the cynical one.” “You are,” he says. “Speaking of which—” “I know. I know. I lost the damn bet.” I smile to myself at the thought of Layla’s bold, brave choice. Good for her for going after what she wants. “So what did you win?” Skylar turns to face me, propping himself so that he’s taking up every inch of space possible. “A trip to New York.” My insides clench and churn. Good thing I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. “A what?” Please tell me I heard him wrong.

“That’s what I want,” he tells me. “Valentine’s Day weekend I’m off. No games. No practice. I’ll buy the plane tickets and whatever else I need to.” “Why New York?” I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. “Because I want to see where you come from. What makes you, you.” “Why?” My voice is practically a whisper. “Because I’m trying to figure you out.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my left ear. “Stop,” I say and he jerks his hand back like I’ve burned him. “Trying to figure me out, I mean. There’s nothing to figure out. I’m just boring old me and there is nothing in New York that matters.” “I disagree,” he says. Before we can argue any further about the God-awful terms of this bet, Skylar ’s phone buzzes in the center console. He retrieves it and smiles. “She made it in time. They’re boarding now.” I am a swirling mess of conflicting emotions inside. I’m happy for Layla. But I’m terrified for myself.

t takes a while to process the fact that Layla’s really gone. Our dorm room seems unfinished without her stuff in it. Lonely. She called last night to let me know everything was going well and I wanted to tell her everything. I almost spilled my guts about the bet, New York, and how much I was dreading letting Skylar see where I come from and why. It’s like I’m going to pull back the curtain and show him the broken girl behind the façade Wizard of Oz style. But I couldn’t. She’s happy. And I’m happy for her. I just wish I hadn’t bet against her and Landen. I got what I deserved I guess. Skylar was right and I was wrong. Damn his arrogant ass. Most likely because I stay on campus and work over Christmas break, Valentine’s Day weekend sneaks up on me. Of course Skylar didn’t forget our bet. He hands me a plane ticket as soon as I step out of my last class on Friday and off we go, on the trip of ill-fated doom. “So this is it,” I tell him once we arrive at my mom’s. “Try not to be overwhelmed.” I don’t watch him put our bags down because I don’t want to see the look of pity on his face. The apartment is a five-floor walk up with a tiny kitchen and dining table shoved into one corner across from a secondhand sectional. There’s no television because she’s never here to watch it. Her bedroom is on one side of the apartment and mine is a remodeled closet on the other. There’s a note on the table and Skylar nods to it as he lowers my overnight bag into one of the weathered wooden chairs. Sorry I couldn’t be here when you came home. Had a date. Help yourself to the leftover lasagna in the fridge. Ms. Adele from next door made it last week but it should still be good. Have a great weekend. Love, Mom. And that pretty much sums up my childhood. Technically I haven’t lived here in nearly two years, since the day I moved out to move in with Eddie. Back when he seemed like Prince Charming rescuing me from my tower of doom. I wouldn’t even recognize the stupid girl I used to be if I passed her on the street. Skylar ’s face is stoic but I know him well enough that I can nearly read his thoughts. “What’s your political stance on week old lasagna?” He scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I think I’m probably for it.” I step over to the fridge and survey the contents. Half a head of brown lettuce, a bottle of cheap wine, some individual bottles of off-brand ginger ale, a plastic container half full of moldy strawberries, a pack of cheese slices, and a container of plain yogurt from who knows when. The aforementioned pan of lasagna is covered with aluminum foil and is pretty much the only edible thing in sight. Lifting the foil, I’m hit with the potent aroma of entirely too much garlic. And I just remembered Ms. Adele next door has approximately sixteen cats that she lets roam all over the countertops. I can practically taste the cat hair now. I give Skylar the best grin I can manage. “On second thought, what’s your stance on greasy diner food?” He appears pensive and his dramatic attempt almost makes me smile. “Will there be pie?” I nod. “There will absolutely be pie.” “In that case, I’m definitely for it. Hard core supporter.”

I

Dominic’s Diner is down the street a few blocks and has changed names and owners so many times the front window just says DINER in faded red letters. Mel’s would be slightly closer but there’s too much likelihood that I’d run into Eddie or one of his buddies there. I don’t know exactly how he was handled the day I left for California but I can imagine. I wouldn’t put it past him to retaliate if he saw me again. Skylar keeps waiting for the walk signs to change. I try hard not to laugh at him. Taking his hand I pull him through the next few intersections while doing my best not to allow my brain to acknowledge how well my hand fits into his. When a cab nearly takes us out and blares his horn in complaint, I don’t even flinch. Skylar squeezes my hand and pales as if he’s just seen his life flash before his eyes. “So every day is like a giant game of Frogger, then?” I release him to open the door to Dom’s. “Something like that. You get used to it.” God help the boy if he ever went to Midtown. Before he can mumble something under his breath, I grab two menus and slide into a well-worn red vinyl booth. “Don’t get the tuna melt, unless you have a death wish. Burgers are good, cheesesteak is fantastic, and the onion rings are ten times better than the fries.” Skylar raises an eyebrow as he takes his menu from my hand. “Come here often?” I shrug. “I don’t cook. My mom didn’t cook. Pizza gets old after a while.” I want to leave it at that. But I can’t. “Not all of us grew up with personal chefs. It’s a hard life, but we survive.” I clench my fists under the table, nearly wincing at the wounded look on his face. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s not being judgmental and he’s never once rubbed his money in mine or anyone else’s face—not that I’ve seen anyway. But I don’t want anyone’s pity and there’s maybe a tiny chip on my shoulder about it. Apparently I still have that strike first before you get hurt thing going for me. Before I can apologize for the unnecessary jab, a middle-aged brunette waitress named Faye comes to take our order. “Cheesesteak, no green peppers. With onion rings and a cherry coke, please.” I hand her my menu and she turns to Skylar who’s still looking at his like it’s in French. “Same, I guess,” he finally says. I giggle when she walks away. Skylar frowns. “What?” “You really wanted to order a grilled chicken salad and a water, admit it.” His mouth lifts at one corner. “You don’t think I can blend in with the city folk?” I glance pointedly at his Polo shirt, designer sunglasses, and California tan. Truthfully, the only place he’d blend in would be a room full of GQ cover models. Not that he needs his ego inflated any further. “You don’t have to destroy your perfect athlete diet to fit in, soccer boy.” Our food arrives quickly and Skylar eyes it appreciatively. “My diet and I will be just fine. But thank you for your concern.” I take my first greasy, cheesy bite and moan. “God, I almost forgot that there were things about New York that I missed.” Skylar chews carefully before swallowing. “This is all you miss? The food?”

I hear what he doesn’t say. What about your mom? Your friends? “Pretty much.” I grab the ketchup bottle from the table behind us since we don’t have one. “I guess there’s a reason you’re attending college on the other side of the country. Any plans to tell me what that reason is?” I keep my mouth purposely full for several minutes. “Nope.” Skylar ’s eyes narrow. “As in there’s not a specific reason or you don’t plan to tell me what it is?” “Take your pick.” “I pick whichever option means you tell me what you’re running from,” Skylar says quietly. “Not that I’m complaining but I can’t imagine many New Yorkers ditch the city for Cali. Unless you’re taking up surfing and just haven’t told me yet.” I take a long sip of my fizzy, overly sweetened soda. “Look, you won the bet. Layla and Landen forever. And yeah, I missed you and couldn’t just blow you off after they were gone. But the deal was that I bring you to my hometown. We’re here.” I wave my hand in a half-circle gesture at our surroundings. “At no time did I agree to a grand inquisition the moment we arrived. Or ever.” My cell phone buzzes in my back pocket. Saved by the buzz. I forgot I was sitting on the damn thing. I retrieve it and see a message from Layla saying they are all settled in and asking me how I am. If only she knew. I haven’t told her that I’m in New York or that Skylar is with me. Which is such a weird world-colliding concept I don’t even think I’ve fully accepted it yet myself. “Layla,” I tell him while I text back telling her I’m glad they arrived safely and that I’m good. I’m so jet lagged and exhausted I don’t even know if I’m lying or being honest. Skylar continues eating while I wrap up my texting. Just as I set my phone aside, I hear it. My past coming back to haunt me. “Corin?” A female voice shrieks from behind Skylar. “Corin Connelly? Is that you, girl?” Jesus Christ. The waitress waiting on the table behind us is Amber or Amberly or something like that. She worked at Mel’s with me for a while and she was one of Eddie’s girls for a little while too. The half of my sandwich I’d actually eaten turns to lead in my stomach. I set the onion ring I’m holding back on my plate and force a smile. “Hey,” I say, trying to glance at her nametag. “Kimber.” I was close. “I thought that was you when you came in. I’d heard you moved to Kansas or something.” She pops her gum while completely blowing off the customers behind her. She’s prettier than I remembered. Busty. Blonde. Somehow she even makes the grease-stained pink T-Shirt and black skirt uniform look sexy. Skylar isn’t watching her like I expect him to be. He’s watching me. Closely enough to make me squirm in my seat. “California,” I correct her. “Same difference, I suppose.” New Yorkers know one universal truth to be true. There’s New York and then there’s everywhere else—also known as not New York. “Cool,” she says as if she barely heard me. “And who’s your friend?” Her wide brown doe eyes rake over Skylar and her pouty pink lips curl upward. “This is Skylar,” I say without clarifying any further. “Kimber,” she says, shaking his hand. “Skylar Martin,” he says in a deep voice that grates on my voice. “Kimber, can I ask you something?” My entire body tenses and I can’t breathe. If he asks how she knows me, there’s no telling what she’ll say. This is why I don’t want to be here. One of the many reasons.

In California, I can just be me. The version of me I am now. Not haunted by the mistakes I made here. “Sure,” she says, looking entirely too eager to have his attention. I force myself to sit back and drink my soda as if their conversation is of no interest to me. “Well I know we just met, but can you tell me honestly, if I look like a New Yorker to you?” Kimber ’s smile spreads across her face. “Um, well, I mean…you look…good. But I’m guessing you’re not from here.” She looks to me for confirmation and I just shrug and focus on my drink. “Well, damn,” Skylar says with mock dejection. “And here I thought I was blending in so well. Guess I can wear that ‘I love NYC’ T-shirt after all since I’m so obvious.” “So where are you from, handsome?” Oh Kimber. Don’t do this to yourself. Have some self-respect, girl. I’m pretty sure I snort out loud. “Kansas,” Skylar tells her completely straight-faced. “Oh.” Kimber scribbles something on a napkin and hands it to him. “Well that’s my number if you want an extensive tour.” She has the decency to check if I’m offended by her offer. I’m not so I smile at her. “I’ll do that,” Skylar says before she returns to her now thoroughly neglected customers. “I’m full,” I tell him once she’s gone. “And beat. So I’m going to head to my mom’s and shower and pass out. You’re welcome to go enjoy your extensive tour of Kimber ’s vagina if that’s what you want to do.” I’m half out of the booth when Skylar grabs my wrist. “Slow your roll, Connelly.” He drains his soda and places a few twenties on the table before following me outside. “So you and Kimber go way back, huh?” The evening air is cool and less stifling than the inside of the diner. I focus on breathing but still can’t quite appease my lungs. I can only imagine Skylar ’s face if I said “Yeah, we had the same pimp for a while—only she knew the score and I thought that pimp actually loved me.” So I say nothing. “She seemed lovely,” he carries on. “Down to Earth. Wholesome. A little shy, though.” I laugh. “And since when is that your type, Martin?” He looks affronted but something is hitting me and it’s hitting me all wrong. “I saw the girl you were with the night we met. Massive cleavage on display, ass cheeks hanging out of her skirt, practically panting by your side. You have a type.” And that type is easy. And that’s why he came after me. Because I seemed easy. But I fucked up his plan so he tricked me into bringing him here so he could figure out why the easy girl wasn’t giving it up for him. How could I have been so stupid? This is still just cat and mouse for him, part of the chase. I want to hail the nearest cab to the airport and fly as far from here and from him as I can. But the only other place I have to go is exactly where he’ll be. “Is that right? Tell me more about my type, Corin. Because you might be right but I sure as hell don’t remember mouthy redheads with no interest in me being on the list.” “It’s long list. Mostly just the naughty half of Santa’s. You might’ve overlooked me.” “And you’d be on the naughty side?” I shake my head, afraid of how my voice will sound if I speak. I’m not in the mood for anymore verbal sparring. Not tonight. We reach my building and Skylar follows me up the stairs. His arm snakes my waist and turns me to face him before we enter the apartment.

“Skylar, I can’t keep—” “I’m not asking you to do anything, Corin. Breathe.” He stares intently at my face while waiting for me to comply. “Look at me, Red.” He tilts my chin up with his free hand so I have no choice but to comply. “Please don’t, Sky. Not tonight. Okay? I’m tired. And being here is…” “Being here is what? Tell me. Because I swear to God, Corin, if I’d known it would affect you like this, I would’ve never made that bet.” “Affected me like what?” He sighs and takes a step back. “You’re on edge. Even touchier and snarkier than usual. You look like you’re expecting an enemy around every corner.” Yeah, that about covers it. “I’m just tired. Jet lag. I need a shower and sleep, that’s all.” The moment I open the door, I’m reminded why I moved out in the first place. My mom made it home after all and she’s currently entertaining a client in the living room. I’ve seen worse, but her sheer black blouse is almost completely unbuttoned and the middle-aged businessman mauling her on the couch barely stops what he’s doing as we pass. “Hey, babe,” my mom calls out as if there is nothing wrong or humiliating about this scenario. “Who’s your friend?” “Carry on,” is all I say before pulling Skylar into my bedroom and closing the door behind us. To my surprise, he doesn’t look horrified at all. He looks…amused. “So that’s your mom?” I busy myself pulling clothes out of my overnight back. No go on the shower after all. “Yep. That’s her. In all her half-naked glory.” “I see,” Skylar says, lowering himself awkwardly into a rickety old desk chair in the corner of my room. “She seems nice.” Without looking at him, I yank off my faded thrift store Yankees tee and pull on a gray tank top. I take my bra off out from under my shirt and toss it back in my overnight bag. I have no intentions of leaving anything here because I am sure as hell not coming back. Skylar swallows hard as I change out of jeans into black yoga pants but I’m not trying to tease or entice him or play any games. I just want to go to sleep and forget this entire day before I do something even more embarrassing like fucking cry. “Yeah. She’s swell. A real June Cleaver. Can we go to sleep now?” We can sight see tomorrow. I flop onto my bed and bundle under my covers. Technically we’ve never slept in the same bed before but we’ve had enough overnights as Jax’s place that I don’t feel even a tiny amount of sexual tension. Well, okay, maybe a tiny fraction of tension. But not as much as usual. Skylar stands and removes everything but his boxer briefs. Okay, damn. Now there’s a little more tension. His chest his hard and firm and so well defined he looks inhuman. My tongue does a little dance behind my teeth at the thought of rolling over his sixpack abs. I bite it, hard, to let it know that will not be happening. I feel like I could explode, or maybe implode. I don’t even know. But everything—being here, Skylar, Kimber at the diner, my mom, all of it—is twisting around painfully inside of me. I wish I could throw it all up, empty the emotional contents of my body and just feel…nothing. Skylar remains sitting on the bed for several silent moments before turning to me. “So your mom had a date? I’m trying to put the pieces together here, but I can’t see what’s so bad about it. I think it’s

awesome she’s getting some at her age. And she looked hot, so good news for you in twenty or so years.” He has no clue how much even the mildest comparison between us hurts me. “I’m nothing like her,” I whisper to into the covers I’ve pulled up near my chin. “Hey,” Skylar reaches for me but I flinch back. “What’s so bad about—” “She’s getting paid for that little ‘date’ out there. Still sure there’s nothing so bad about it?” It takes a split second for comprehension to register on his face. I can’t tear my eyes away. I need to know how repulsive he finds it. How repulsive he’d find me if he knew the truth. It’s bubbling inside of me like undigested food threatening to spill out like vomit all over us both. “Oh. Well, I mean, gotta do what you gotta do.” Skylar ’s face is strangely free of repulsion or even much shock. “It’s not like she’s hooking on the streets. So she’s an escort or something. I mean, she’s safe, right? She’d never bring anyone up here with you here that was dangerous, would she?” Concern creases his features and the rawness of it breaks me wide open. He just found out my mom is basically a prostitute and all he’s worried about is whether or not I’m safe. “I-I don’t honestly know. She has a handler. His name is Tony. He vets most of the guys, handles the money. Once when I was little some drunk guy lost his cool and slapped her, but Tony hangs close by and he hustled him out before it went any further.” Go back in, words. I want to shove them back in my mouth and swallow them down. He doesn’t need to know about these parts of my life, of my childhood. I keep the darkest parts of myself hidden where they belong. “How old were you? When that happened, I mean?” Skylar crawls under the covers and pulls me close. Even after a day on a plane, he still smells of the warm after tones of cologne and soap. “Um, second grade I think. So eight or nine I guess.” A few muffled sounds come from the living room so I reach over and flip on the small television that sits on the nightstand at the foot of my bed. “Did you know back then? What your mom did for a living?” Appropriately Teen Mom is on television. Irony is a sarcastic bitch. I sigh while settling back into the covers and against his bare heated skin. “I knew she had a lot of boyfriends. A girl named Sonoma told me in fifth grade that my mom was a whore and caused her parents to get divorced. She called us white trash and hit me with a rock in the face at recess.” The shame from that day settles over me as if it was yesterday instead of nearly ten years ago and I curl tighter into myself for comfort. “I asked my mom point blank what a whore was that afternoon. And I got more of an explanation than I ever bargained for.” “Jesus,” Skylar says under his breath. “You were just a kid. You didn’t deserve— ” “It’s over now,” I say, feeling fearful that I might drown in his pity. “It was a long time ago and I’ve made my peace with reality. My mom made her choices, did what she felt she had to do.” “You know that her choices don’t define you, right? Just because that’s the path she chose, it isn’t any reflection on you.” The truth lingers bitter like battery acid on my tongue. I made the same choices. “Skylar…” This is it. I should just tell him. Get it out there and let him bail as fast as he can. I’m tired of carrying it around. Tired of trying to shove it into a dark corner and pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m going to lose him—his friendship and his respect and the possibility it could ever be anything more. But he deserves to know the truth.

“I moved out when I was barely sixteen. Move in with my boyfriend, Eddie. Who happened to be a dirt bag in disguise.” Skylar props up on one elbow and watches me carefully. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to keep living here with your mom’s…occupational hazards.” “That’s the thing. After a few months of living with Eddie, I…” I can’t. I can’t do this. Not like this with him looking down at me the way he is. I sit up straight and press my back to the wall. Swallowing hard and sucking in all the courage I can muster, I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “Eddie ran girls, too. Younger ones. Some still in high school like me. When money got tight and we couldn’t make rent, he started mentioning how much his friend Julien would pay to sleep with me. One month’s rent at least.” Grimy disgust crawls all over my flesh at the memory. I can’t meet Skylar ’s eyes. I can’t bear to watch when he stops looking at me as an object of desire and repulsion rolls over his features. Julien was better looking than Eddie, but dangerous in his own way. He liked it rough and everyone knew it, including Eddie. “He just kept on and on, you know? The power got cut off and he raged on about how selfish I was and how he’d taken me in and I should pull my weight. I was waitressing part time and still going to school but it wasn’t enough. He threatened to kick me out and I didn’t want to come back here to this…” It seems so stupid now. I was old enough to handle what my mom did. I should’ve just come home. But sixteen year-old me couldn’t see that. “Julien was the first. He paid well but he was rough and I was scared. I cried. The whole time. He didn’t want me anymore after the one time. Eddie was pissed.” Now that the worst of it is out there, I’m nearly numb. “His cousin Mike was next. He was my age and he was a virgin. It wasn’t so bad. Almost felt like I was helping him.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Then word got out, or Eddie put it out there, and soon certain nights of the week certain guys would show up and I’d be with them. Eddie made sure to ply me with pills and alcohol so it was like I was in a fog, watching it happen to someone else instead of actually living it. They paid Eddie so I never knew how much. Sometimes he watched. I thought it was something I was doing for him, you know? Earning my keep and proving myself worthy of his love and attention.” The shame covers me like a blanket of flames. I feel sick about that entire time period of my life. Eddie was right. I was stupid to think I could move away to college and leave any of that behind. It’s part of me, part of who I am. And I am disgusting. Dirty and tainted, which Skylar can clearly see now. Skylar clears his throat and when I meet his gaze he looks angry. And somehow terrified to touch me at the same time. “So…now you know. I got pregnant at eighteen. I knew it was Eddie’s because he was the only one that didn’t use protection. Then…” And here I thought I was over the hardest part. The constricting lump in my throat says otherwise. “We had a fight. I told him about the baby and he told me to get rid of it because no one would want me if I was knocked up and we had bills to pay.” Every vein of Skylar ’s in the arm closest to me is standing at attention. I trace the patterns with my eyes before continuing. “He called me some ugly names and I told him to go to hell. That I was done and that I was leaving. He told me that was fine, that he had no use for a knocked up whore. That word…it got to me the same as it had in fifth grade. I threw a lamp at his head and he sort of tackle-threw me down the stairs.” My body is trembling uncontrollably now but what’s done is done. “I lost the baby.” Taking an extremely deep breath, I force a semi-recognizable version of a smile.

“Probably for the best. Not like I was fit to raise a kid, you know?” Shrugging, I add, “Then I saw the sign for community college and I applied there and to a few others. When I got into SoCal, I just started packing. It was literally as far away as I could get and I just wanted to start over. Guess I kind of failed at that, huh?” I glance around at where we are. Exactly where I started. Long awkward silence stretches out between us. “Corin, I am so sorry—” “Skylar, I didn’t tell you that to make you feel sorry for me or even—” “Where is this ‘Eddie’ now?” Skylar ’s muscles are tense and I realize he’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “Um, no idea. Probably at some bar recruiting under age girls. Hell if I know.” Skylar ’s jaw clenches and frustration rolls off of him in waves, slamming all around my tiny room with nowhere to go. “I shouldn’t have been pressuring you, saying the things I was. After everything you’ve—” “No. Stop.” I put my hand out and touch his arm. “Not the same thing. I get that you thought I was a good time girl—hell, I used to be—so you were trying to get in my pants. We’re attracted to each other and we flirt. Yeah, sometimes it’s a little over the top, but I’m a big girl now. I can handle it. You are nothing like—” “I’m exactly fucking like him,” Skylar explodes upward, propelling off my bed so hard I’m scared for him. “You moved across the goddamn country to get away from guys like that, guys who only wanted one thing, only to run smack into me. And there I was at every turn trying to convince you to sleep with me.” I shake my head but I can see that he’s beyond reach. “Still not the same, Sky. You never manipulated or threatened me or made me feel afraid. If I was any other girl, then it wouldn’t even matter.” “Jesus Christ, Corin. Don’t make excuses for me. How do you even fucking stand me? Because right now, I honestly can’t stand myself.” With that, Skylar bolts for the door. “Please don’t,” I call out just before he grabs the knob. “Don’t leave, Sky. Please. I really don’t want to be alone and it’s not exactly safe for you to be walking around at night…in your underwear.” He eyes meet mine and I can see that he’s torn. He has all this excess energy to burn and nowhere to put it. He’s angry—at me, at himself, at the situation—I can’t be sure. But it’s there, white-hot anger contorting his beautiful, usually carefree features. “You should slap me. Or knee me in the balls. Something. I deserve some sort of punishment for how I’ve treated you.” I bite my lip as if contemplating my options, desperate to change the heavy, depressing mood. “I could spank you. Once for each dirty thing you’ve said to me. So…a lot.” Skylar stares at me for a long, hard minute before relenting and returning to the bed. His foot bumps something hard under my bed and I cringe. Oh God. My other dark secret. “What the hell?” He reaches down and pulls out the source of my shame. I close my eyes as he examines it. “Who the fuck are the Gilmore Girls?” I shake my head without opening my eyes. “Nope. No more secrets tonight.” Skylar bends to look under the bed. “There are so many.” “It’s only two box sets. There were seven seasons.” His eyes are wide when I finally peek at him. But at least he isn’t vibrating with rage anymore. “We have to watch this. Now.” He opens a cardboard sleeve that I think is season four. “Um, no.”

“Yes.” “No,” I huff out. “I mean, if we’re watching them, we’re watching them in order. Otherwise you’ll never fully appreciate the dynamics of the Lorelei and Rory relationship.” Skylar looks at me as if I’ve spoken another language. “Okay, Red. We’ll watch it in order. Whatever makes you happy.” I settle into my covers, stretching my aching joints from where I was balled up so tight, while the very first episode of my favorite show of all time begins. Layla would do a jig if she knew this about me. “You good?” Skylar wraps an arm around me and I know as soon as I snuggle into his chest, I’m not even going to make it to season two. “I’m great.”

orin looks like a sexy pixie while she sleeps. I’m halfway into season one of he Gilmore Girls when she begins to snore lightly. Two episodes in, I figured out why she loved the show about a neurotic single mother and her insanely smart daughter so much. It’s the picturesque life Corin would never have. Coffee and verbose conversations with her mom about the trivial things in daily life. Safety, security, and comfort in a small town. Foreign concepts in Corin’s world. But she can probably relate to the whole mom acting like a kid while the kid has to be the adult aspect. I should sleep. But I can’t. My girl has been through so much and there I was throwing the one thing she was trying to escape right in her face day after day. I’m not usually one to wallow in remorse for my actions, but this time, I am literally sickened at the memory of damn near every word I’ve ever uttered to her. She deserves so much better than that. My fierce, strong, girl. Who isn’t even technically mine anywhere except in my head. At some point when diner guy Luke is bitching about whatever pain in the ass thing Lorelei is doing, which obviously makes him want her as much as he wants to choke her, I doze off into a haze of half-sleep. When I come to, the screen is black and the sun is up. But Corin still isn’t. Retrieving my still very much asleep tingling arm from under her head, I sneak gently out of her bed and get dressed. I saw a small coffee shop just before the diner we ate at yesterday. I’m hoping they have breakfasttype stuff too so I can start the long road of attempting to make up for being a complete dickhead up until now. I grab my phone and wallet off the dresser on my way out before shutting the door as soundlessly as I can manage. Thankfully her mom is either gone or behind her closed bedroom door when I step into the living room. Probably not a good idea to have another half-naked run in with Corin’s mom. The memory of Corin pouring out her soul to me is fresh and has me scrambling for ideas about how I can make it better, make her realize that we’ve all done stupid shit we aren’t proud of, but that it doesn’t change who we are. My phone buzzes loudly while I’m in line at the coffee shop. Apparently all New Yorkers get up at the crack of dawn and get their daily caffeine fix first thing. Katie, my screen says above my sister ’s face. I swipe the screen to answer. “Hey, Katie-bug. What’s up?” “Thank God, you are,” my sister huffs out. “I left you three messages yesterday, Skylar.” I move forward as the line does. “Sorry. I was probably on the plane. Everything okay?” “A plane?” she practically screeches at me. “What the hell are you doing on a plane, Skylar? Where are you?” Before I can answer, she rambles on. “You’re supposed to be here to help me set up in a few hours. You promised. The catering company is running late due to traffic on the 405. The company doing the table décor totally screwed up my order and none of the tablecloths are the right size.” It takes me a few seconds to figure out what in the world she’s talking about. Tablecloths? For

C

what? “Skylar Andrew Martin, do not tell me you forgot about the auction. I’ve sent you half a dozen reminders. And you still have to pick up your tux. They close at five.” There is a lethal anger in my sister ’s voice. It’s not a tone she uses often but with parents like ours, we typically don’t let each other down. And this time I have. Completely dropped the ball because I was so caught up in this weekend with Corin. Fuck. The charity auction. I completely forgot. “Katie, listen to me. I screwed up. I’m with…a friend. In New York. But I’ll get on a plane as soon as possible. I’ll do my best, okay?” “Do better than your best. I am not messing around, Skylar. I need you. Please get here soon.” The call is disconnected just as it’s my turn to order. I rattle off mine and Corin’s orders and throw in some ham and cheese bagel sandwiches to go. The barista clearly wants to make my life hell by moving at a snail’s pace. I grab the coffees and bag of sandwiches and bust my ass out of the shop. There’s a stand with a guy selling flowers on the corner so I buy a huge bouquet of exotic flowers even though I know we probably can’t bring it with us. I owe Corin a genuine apology, one with groveling and a dinner that will empty my wallet, but due to my screw up, flowers will have to do for now. The door is locked so I have to knock several times. While I wait, I shift the coffees to the arm holding the bag and bouquet and use my phone to check flights back to LAX. There is one in an hour if I can just get Corin moving without coming off like a complete dick. I knock a few more times before I hear Corin muttering something unintelligible from behind the door. “I thought you left,” she says standing in the doorway like a ginger-haired angel wrapped in a fluffy white towel. Her wet hair hangs down her exposed back and my dick registers that we still want to fuck her very much, even at six a.m. in the middle of a crisis. “I went to get coffee. And breakfast.” I hand over the goods and her towel slips just enough to make my mouth water. “And these. For you.” I hand her the flowers and she looks pleased but maybe a little confused as she places them in a vase that looks like it’s never been used. “Okay. Well, thanks. The flowers are lovely.” She sips her coffee and moans as she returns to her bedroom to get dressed. I sit at the kitchen table and focus on inhaling my bagel as quickly as possible without choking. “Not to rush you, but I kind of have a thing back in LA…” Corin appears around the corner, still in only the torturous towel, and begins picking at her own bagel. “What kind of ‘thing’?” “A charity auction sponsored by the law firm my sister works for. It’s at my house, actually. I completely forgot until she called me this morning.” Corin eyes me carefully while slipping her coffee. “I see. So you probably need to head on back, then.” I stand and throw away my cup and paper sandwich wrapper. “We need to head on back. You’re my date, obviously.” Corin’s ass is propped against the table and my vision begins to swim. We need to go. I need to change our plane tickets. We should be grabbing our shit and heading to the airport. But she’s naked under that towel and in no hurry to get dressed. That has to mean something. Her gaze collides with mine and I see a matching hunger there that has nothing to do with food. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before. Why did you?”

Her question pulls me slightly out of my fog. “Um, to apologize? For making you come here when you didn’t want to. For being such a dick all the time and for...you know.” “I honestly don’t know.” She’s looking at me weird, like I’m a stranger instead of the guy she’s known since last fall. I lower myself into the chair beside where she’s propped even though my dick is screaming DANGER ZONE at being this close to her bare skin. “You came to SoCal to start over and I acted like every guy from your past. Just wanting to…fuck you. Which, yeah, I do. Badly. But that’s not all I want from you and if you decide to be a nun and never have sex again, I’m not going to bail on you. I mean…that would suck because I think we’d be pretty amazing in the sack. But I realized these past few months, with everything with O’Brien, and the team, and scouts, you’re the first person I want to tell stuff to. Somehow, strange as it may seem, you’re my best friend.” Corin looks like I’ve drugged her with my words and apparently I can’t shut up. “And I don’t want to mess that up. So I’m going to behave myself and—” Corin’s mouth fastens to mine in a scorching kiss that I don’t see coming. Sweet Jesus, she does taste like strawberries. And mint. And coffee now. It’s erotic as hell and I can’t get enough. Her tongue lashes against mine and I stroke it slowly. My mind screams at me to slow down but my raging hard on tells it to shut up. I won’t fuck her. Not like this. Not right now. But I am going to make her come with my mouth until she can’t walk. I’ll carry her to the cab and get her a wheelchair at the airport. Grabbing her roughly around the waist, I remove the towel in one swift tug. Somewhere angels are singing as Corin’s naked body is revealed to me. Taut, toned skin covers every inch from her delicate collarbones to her full, firm breasts, and down to her petite little toes. My mouth lowers to the pink peaks at the tips of her breasts and they pebble against my tongue. Corin’s answering cry is a mix of pleasure and pain as I suck them hard. “Skylar,” she begins but cuts herself off with a loud moan. “Tell me your mom isn’t here,” I command. “She’s not,” she informs me and I do an internal fist pump while lowering her back onto the table. “What are you doing?” I place my hand flat on her chest and press her gently backward. “I’m eating breakfast, Red. But if you want me to stop, at any time, just say the word.” “I-I don’t want you to stop.” Thank fuck. I spread her knees slowly so she’s fully exposed to me and I’m rewarded with the sight of glistening pink folds. Her pussy is bare and I can’t help but wonder if she shaved recently and if it was for my benefit. There are freckles on her inner thighs. “Later, when we’re not in such a hurry, I’m going to count each and every one of these,” I tell her while tracing them with my fingers. “O-okay.” Her legs are trembling slightly so I place my hands firmly on her knees. “I got you, baby. I promise. Just let go for now, okay?” Her head falls back against the table as she’s does as she’s told and her knees fall slightly further apart. My dick is using my zipper as a punching bag, but he’s staying put. Sorry, buddy. This is for her. It should have always been for her. And I will not ever be another guy who just takes from her. I slide my index finger directly down her clit and into her throbbing cunt. She’s wet and tight as hell but I slide in a second finger as my mouth descends on her sweet pink flesh. Her keening moan

and the way her walls clench down on me tells me she’s still with me. Answering pain grips my balls tightly, because now I know just how good Corin would feel wrapped around my cock, but I do my best to ignore it. The combination of her scent and taste knocks me punch drunk and I swirl my tongue in every crevice to gather her juices. I’m drunk on Corin and I suspect I’m going to become a raging alcoholic for her flavor. When her pussy starts to grind against my face, I know she’s close. I fuck her harder with my fingers, curling just enough to hit her g-spot while sucking her clit. “Skylar, Skylar, fuck. Wait. No. Fuck. Oh my God. God, don’t stop.” The rest of it is an endless string of incomprehensible sounds as Corin comes apart in my hands and on my tongue. “That’s it, baby,” I murmur against her pulsating pussy. “Come for me. Come hard, baby.” Two hard licks of her clit and her back bows completely off the table. A long, deep-throated mewling sound escapes her and I feel like the King of the Fucking Planet. She’s literally dripping wet after coming so I lick her gently back down to Earth before sucking her slickness off my fingers. Her eyes are wide and glazed over as she watches me from below. Corin sits up looking as dazed as I feel. Her smile is shy, shier than I’ve ever seen her look. If I died right now, it would be okay. Because we all have a destiny and I’m pretty sure I just fulfilled mine. “You are the best best friend, ever,” she declares quietly. I let out a low laugh before kissing her on the mouth—chastely—so I don’t get carried away. “I could do that all day. And one day I will. But today we need to get on a plane very soon or my sister is going to remove all my fun parts before you get to experience them.” And I need to go jack off in the bathroom. Quickly. “Okay, okay,” she says, reaching for me to help her down off the table. “I’m going. I’m going.” She pulls her towel back around herself, which seems silly but I don’t judge. “Hey, Red,” I ask on my way to the bathroom. “Yeah?” “We good? I mean, that was okay, right?” She crosses the room and touches my face with a gentleness I don’t expect. “Skylar, that was so much better than okay I don’t even know if I have words. It was hot fudge sundae in bed on a Saturday morning during a marathon of Gilmore Girls good. Which, in my book, is pretty fucking amazing.” You’re pretty fucking amazing, I want to say but don’t. I’m just glad it’s not going to be weird and that I didn’t cross any lines she wasn’t okay with. Baby steps. I get that now. Corin’s experience with intimacy is not good and so trust matters. A lot. I can do this. I can be patient. Most days. So this morning was kind of a giant leap but I needed to show her that I didn’t feel differently after last night. In fact, I want her more. My dick has decided it’s his mission in life to erase all memories of any other piece of shit dude she’s been with. Corin kisses me gently on the lips and I realize I’m going to need to kiss her every day, everywhere, probably for the rest of my life. Not gonna lie, I did not see this coming. After I finish myself off in the bathroom, we move into high year in order to get to the airport. Corin’s standing with her black and white striped overnight bag slung over one shoulder and her

backpack on the other. “Ready?” She glances at me as I shoulder my gym bag. “To leave New York? I was ready years ago.” “Do you need to say goodbye to your mom or anything? Call her?” Corin scoffs at me. “Didn’t say goodbye last time. No reason this time should be any different.” Okay then. “Let’s roll.” Corin opens the door and her face goes about five shades whiter. “Eddie.” The enemy she’s been expecting around every corner has finally arrived. And I am ready for this motherfucker. “Hey, Ginger,” an Italian-sounding male voice responds. “Heard you were in town. Thought I’d pay you a visit. Lookin’ good, babe. Miss me?” I’ve never seen Corin speechless but she’s just standing there gaping at him like he’s something out of a horror movie. I step out from behind the door and in between them. He’s a big enough guy. I’m taller but he’s broad. Good thing I have an entire night’s worth of pissed off to unleash. “I’m Skylar. And I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but since Corin has made it clear she’d like you to stay the hell away from her, it isn’t.” Eddie whistles low. “Well, well, Corin. What have we here? Move to California and got yourself a pretty boy, huh?” Corin looks as if a million ants are crawling beneath her skin. “Go to hell, Eddie. Or go anywhere. Just go.” “Aw, don’t be like that, sweet—” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because we’re late and I’m over this shit. My fist connects solidly enough with his jaw to knock his head back. He rebounds quickly enough though and comes at me hard. He’s too slow and I’m too amped up at the memory of him hurting Corin in all the ways she detailed less than twelve hours ago. My fist connects a second time and he hits the ground. “Jesus, Sky. You knock him out cold.” Corin’s mouth is open in a small o of surprise. “I mean… not that I didn’t know you were capable, but you’re so laid back usually and…wow.” I shrug and take her bags, ignoring the throbbing bone-shattering pain in my hand. “Blame it on O’Brien. I think some of his crazy has rubbed off on me.” With that, we close and lock the door and step over Eddie on our way out. We don’t get on the next flight out but we were able to get on standby on the one after that. Both of us doze on and off as we make our way to the other side of the country at thirty thousand feet. I’m too tired to even make a joke about joining the mile-high club. I keep a bag of ice the stewardess so helpfully provided on my knuckles until it melts. I make a mental note to ask O’Brien how he keeps from breaking his hands on people faces every time he loses his temper. Home, I think somewhere between layovers. We’re going home. Mine and Corin’s—because even though she’s from New York, I’ve seen the way she recoils into herself there. That’s not home for her. Maybe it never was.

hings have shifted between us—major things. And not just due to the in-flight cabin pressure. Skylar takes my hand easily as we slide into a black Lincoln town car at the airport. I don’t flinch or jerk away. In fact, it feels nice and I suspect when he lets go I’ll miss the contact. About forty-minutes later, I learn that I’m right. The car pulls into a semi-circle of a driveway at a house bigger than my entire apartment building. I whistle low under my breath. “Jesus, Martin. You grew up in this place?” The driver lets out a small laugh, and Skylar nods. “Depends on your definition of ‘grew up.’” I can’t even contain my awe. If Skylar knocking Eddie unconscious surprised me, this house outright shocks the hell out of me. It’s a sprawling brick affair with an arched stone entrance. I feel like Cinderella as the driver helps me out of the car. “I’ll get your bags, Miss.” “Thank you,” I mumble, unable to tear my eyes away from the grand structure before me. “Come on, Red. The house won’t bite,” Skylar says, ushering me towards the door. “But I might,” he says softly into my ear. Heat rushes to my face and a few other essential places. He bit me gently on the inner thigh before eating me like a starving man. I don’t know how I’ll ever get that image out of my head. Not that I necessarily want to. Before he can get his keys out, the door is opened and a beautiful dark-haired blue-eyed woman practically yanks us inside. “Finally. You really like to make me insane, don’t you, little brother?” She gives me a quick smile. “Skylar, go check that the tables are set up outside and that the sound system guys are doing what they’re supposed to. Then get upstairs and get changed. Your tux is on your bed. You’re welcome.” Skylar sighs and nods to me. “Corin, this is my sister, Katie. Katie, Corin.” “The friend from New York,” she says, giving my hand a curt shake. “Apparently,” I say. She’s as overwhelming as this house. My gaze hasn’t even made it to the ceiling yet. “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise. And you’re stunning and probably, what? A size six? I think I have a few things you can choose from. Come with me.” The compliment blows past quickly, and before I can thank her or ask why she needs to know what size I am, she’s linked my arm with hers and we’re moving past Skylar toward a never-ending staircase. “Sorry to be such a maniac, but this is a huge event for my firm, and Skylar is about as reliable as the weather,” Katie says as we enter what might be her bedroom. Or Kim Kardashian’s. I can’t tell. “It’s okay. I understand. I was actually ready to head back, so no worries.” In a way, Katie’s event saved my ass. I was all New-Yorked out. Skylar was bummed about not eating hot dogs from a street vendor, but he’ll live. I’ll boil him one in dirty water next time I get a chance. “So what is this event, exactly?” My brain is still on New York time so I’m a little scattered. I feel like it should be dark outside but it’s bright and sunny judging from the light steaming in through Katie’s plantation shutters. “It’s a bachelor auction to benefit the Orange County Crisis Center. My firm works with them a great deal and we usually raise around a hundred or so. This year the goal is two-fifty so we have

T

twice as many bachelors. My brother brought in ten last year alone.” She eyes me for a long second, maybe to see if I care that Skylar is about to get auctioned off to the highest bidder. The driver knocks gently before placing my bags inside the door before Katie can inquire what my feelings are on this. “Any chance you got an evening gown in either of those?” My chest constricts with nervous tension. “Um, doubtful.” She nods. “I figured. I could’ve had something ordered if I’d known you were in New York and you could’ve picked it up. Oh well. I had a few of my favorite designers brought in and you’re pretty close to my size.” She opens the closet door and once again, my jaw drops and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Playing it cool is not my thing apparently. “I’m wearing the red Vera,” Katie says gesturing to where half a dozen dresses are hanging on a lighted display. The red one is strapless and short and will no doubt look amazing on her petite figure. “Take your pick of the rest.” “I could legit live in here. Any chance you’re looking for a roommate?” For the first time, Katie stops and really looks at me. Then she laughs a sweet airy laugh. “Lord, I really am a head case today. Please forgive me. You seem lovely and seeing as you’re the first girl Skylar has ever intentionally brought home, I would like to get to know you.” “You have a lot going on,” I say with a shrug. She can’t be that much older than me and yet she has a job at a prestigious law firm, organizes charity events, and has a closet unlike anything I’ve ever seen. “And you’re the first person to call me lovely…and you’re loaning me a dress that probably costs as much as a year ’s tuition at SoCal…so…we’re good.” Katie sits on a giant cushion in the middle of the room and looks up at me. “Ever feel like you’re in so far over your head you might never see the sun again?” College. Moving across the country. Getting a roommate with a deadly condition. Loving her and letting her go. Getting to know Skylar. Every second spent with him. “Every day,” I answer honestly. “So which dress are you leaning towards?” I glance at the row of them and there is only one I can imagine wearing. It has a low v-neckline with a high thigh slit up the side. It appears to be made of silk. Or oil. Or the skin of something expensive and endangered. “The black one,” I say, and Katie startles me by clapping her hands. “Perfect! I was hoping you’d pick that one. I have the perfect Louboutins to go with it.” The next hour and a half is spent with a team of people that seem to materialize from thin air. My nails and toenails are polished and painted a shiny pink opaque color that matches the necklace and bracelet Katie loaned me. My hair is blown out and straightened within an inch of its life before being slicked back and wrapped over to one shoulder. A smoky eye and some false lashes later, I look like I could walk straight onto a runway—provided I don’t fall and bust my ass in these stilettos. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. “Here, put some of this on.” Katie hands me a tube of lipgloss that looks like shimmery pink cotton candy is inside. I slick it over my lips and smile. “Damn, girl. No one would know you spent the entire day on a plane. My brother is a lucky guy.” The mention of Skylar pulls the air from my lungs. I can’t deny I’m ready to see his reaction to me in this dress. “I mean, if you’re dating him. I just assumed, because he was in New York with you…” Katie looks embarrassed so I smile at her. “Would you believe I lost a bet?”

“T here he is,” my dad calls out, reaching to shake my hand like we’re business associates. One of the partners in his investment firm, Dave, is with him. “Dad. Dave.” I shake their hands and adjust my collar. After overseeing the setting up of the tables and sound system, I barely had time to shower and down a cup of black coffee before getting ready and heading down. I’m hoping to find Corin to tell her to bid on me and I’ll pay whatever the bid is, but so far she and my sister have yet to make an appearance. “The soccer star,” Dave says, patting me on the back like the douchebag he is. “Good to see you again, son.” “Something like that,” I say. “Dad, have you seen Katie?” “She’s around here somewhere,” he answers, glancing around at the overcrowded room where cocktail hour is. “Running around like a chicken with her head cut off like she always is at these things. You know how she is.” “Skylar,” my mom practically shrieks from across the room. “There’s my handsome man.” I accept the hug that I know is more for show than anything else. Her fellow junior leaguers are here and Lord knows, appearance matters. I can smell the bourbon on my mom’s breath. “Getting an early start, mom?” She scoffs at me before turning to my father. “Katie said Skylar brought a friend. Jack, have you met her yet?” Like I’m not even standing here. “No, he hasn’t,” I interrupt. “Her name is Corin and I expect you both to be on your best behavior.” My mom pulls a deeply offended face. “When have we not been? Katie said she was from New York. Is she in fashion?” Barely resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I shake my head. “No. She’s a student at SoCal with me. She’s going into Law.” “Oh, like Katie,” my mom exclaims. “They’ll have things in common to chat about then.” The idea of that nearly makes me laugh out loud. Corin and my sister have nothing in common, other than being stubborn pains in the ass, which I’m sure both would deny vehemently. “Skylar,” a seductive female voice purrs from behind me. “I was hoping you’d be here.” Goddammit to hell. My stomach sinks at the sound of her voice. Fingernails rake across my suit jacket from behind. Fallon Kensington. Of course she’s here. My fists clench at my sides and I smile through gritted teeth to greet her. “Fallon. Nice to see you.” No, it isn’t. It never is. It’s a fucking dramafest waiting to happen because there is nothing this girl loves more than having an audience. She’s Fallon and it’s Valentine’s Day so she’s wearing a flowing red dress that seems to have fabric everywhere except where it should be. Her lipstick matches her dress perfectly, that or she just sucked the blood out of some poor guy. “Fallon.” My mom greets her warmly with a hug. “So glad you could make it. Is your mother

here?” “She couldn’t make it unfortunately,” Fallon says with a fake pout. “I’m here all alone.” Dangerous hazel eyes meet mine and I know what she’s looking for. An offer to take her home, or out clubbing after dinner. Fallon was the resident wild child at the private high school I attended. She got caught drinking in study hall, smoking in the ladies room, and snorting coke during detention. She never wears panties and has a penchant for giving public blowjobs anywhere and everywhere she can get away with it. Something I used to love about her, but now only makes me nervous. Having her near Corin will be bad. I can feel it down to my DNA. The Kensington name got her out of more trouble than I can even recall, and in high school, Fallon was the female version of me. Or I was the male version of her. It only made sense that we joined forces and made the school administration’s life a living hell. But I learned the hard way that I would never be enough to satisfy Fallon. She slept with my best friend on graduation night. When I walked in on them in her bedroom, she couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to join in. I haven’t talked to Harrison Hayes since and I didn’t plan to ever lay eyes on her again either if I could help it. I was never a territorial guy but I wasn’t one to share either. My understanding had been that we were exclusive and I’d been faithful to her our entire senior year of high school. She had demons. Things that had happened to her as a child when her parents were off sailing around the world and would leave her with anyone that would take her had left their mark. She was dark and broody and I was carefree and fun. I thought we balanced each other out. But I was wrong. Fallon was forever unbalanced. She and my mother are discussing the international modeling contract Fallon recently signed when I see the only girl I care to. Corin enters the room with my sister and my head isn’t the only one that turns. “That must be Skylar ’s friend,” my dad says under his breath. I don’t bother responding. I’m too busy making my way through the crowd to get to her. I need to touch her, to feel her in my arms, to tell her that one taste of her will never be enough. Just as Corin’s beautiful eyes met mine, Katie makes an announcement that the party is moving to the outdoor patio for dinner and the auction and I’m basically bull rushed in the other direction. Men of all ages are turning as Corin passes to the point that I can follow the trail of drool. She’s new here, fresh meat, but she’s fucking mine and I have already knocked one asshole out today. I have no problems adding to the list. The night is young. Totally get you now, O’Brien. Sorry for judging. I finally make my way to her as Brent Burgess the third pulls a chair out for her. “Thanks, Burgess. I’ll take it from here,” I tell the four-eyed fuckhead making sure to give him a noticeable get the hell out of here look. Corin smiles at me. “You clean up nice, Sky.” Her voice is thick with desire but I can’t imagine she’s as turned on as I am right now. A waitress passes and I grab us each a glass of champagne. I should say something casual and off the cuff, like “ditto” or “likewise” but I can’t. “You look fucking edible, Red.” Which she is, I now know from experience. “But we have a serious problem,” I murmur into her ear as I push her seat slowly to the banquet table. “What’s that?” Her wide emerald eyes regard me warily. She’s out of her element here, but no one would know. She’s hands down the most breathtaking women in the room. I take my own seat beside her and lean over to whisper in her ear. “Now that I know just how edible you are, I’m going to need to satisfy that craving every damn day.”

Corin’s cheeks pink and I slide a hand onto the thigh exposed by the slit in her dress. “My sister loan you this?” Corin nods. “It’s yours. I’ll buy it from her.” I open my mouth to tell her my plan for paying for my own bid so we can have all night together when a hand grips my thigh under the table. It isn’t Corin’s. “Skylar,” Fallon’s voice whines. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?” “And us too,” my mom chimes in from behind me. I’m pretty sure this is what hell will be like. Not that I don’t deserve to be there, but I’d hoped it would be a while. Standing to remove myself from Fallon’s clutches, I help Corin up. “Mom, Dad, this is Corin Connelly.” My dad nods stiffly, still scanning the room for more important people to schmooze. My mom shakes Corin’s hand with a puzzled expression. “I don’t think I know of any Connelly’s in New York. Are you from the East or West side?” Corin pulls a tight smile. “Brooklyn, ma’am.” My mom looks like she’s been slapped. Heaven forbid Corin isn’t from the right kind of stock. The slight doesn’t go unregistered on Corin’s radar and hurt ripples briefly across her features. I squeeze her hand because these people simply don’t matter and I wish I could convey that her somehow. “How quaint,” Fallon comments, completing ignoring the fact that no one invited her into this conversation. “Not particularly,” Corin remarks, lifting her chin just a notch higher. “Good, you’ve all met,” Katie joins us like a breath of fresh air. “Now find your seats so we can serve dinner and the auction can begin.” “Bid on me,” I tell Corin during the appetizer. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay it.” She frowns at me after she finishes her spinach salad. “Um, your sister said you go for like ten thousand dollars. You’re going to pay that?” “I have it in savings. It’s fine. I usually donate anyways.” She looks troubled through the entire main course. I have to peel Fallon off of me twice by the time dessert is served. Corin’s presence is making her more aggressive than usual. I’m ready to start the auction my damn self by the time my sister takes the outdoor stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, now for the even you all came here for. Our most eligible Orange County bachelor ’s are ready to be auctioned off for the evening.” There’s a murmur through the crowd as we stand. I give Corin a light kiss before heading to the stage. It’s almost over. We’re almost in the clear, away from the past, from disapproving parents, and predatory glares. There’s dancing after this, then an entire evening with your bachelor. I can hardly wait to hold Corin in my arms…and in my bed.

very word out of this Fallon chick’s mouth makes me want to drink. I’m on my third—or maybe fourth—glass of champagne by the time she finishes rehashing her past with Skylar and starts in about the modeling contract she just signed with some French company I can’t even pronounce. The traveling, the jet lag, and the time change are taking their toll on me. I’m exhausted and possibly a little drunk. There are girls at school that check Skylar out. Soccer groupies, or field bunnies as I call them. But Fallon Kensington is an entirely different animal. She’s exotically beautiful and slightly frightening. There’s an edge to her, a darkness in her eyes I’ve only seen in one other person. Landen O’Brien. Maybe the light in Skylar attracts these types. The difference is Landen has a good heart beneath his tough exterior. I have faith in him or I never would’ve let me roommate leave the country with him. The only thing I can tell for sure about Fallon so far is that she’s calculating and is trying very hard to intimidate the hell out of me. It’s working. She’s a supermodel. A real life, honest to goodness, motherfucking supermodel. How am I supposed to compete with that? I felt beautiful, or pretty at least, when I first emerged in this dress. But now it feels as if I’m hiding behind gaudy makeup and too much fabric, shrinking and shriveling beneath her predatory and disapproving stare. Doesn’t help that Skylar ’s parents are clearly not impressed with me. His mother smiles at me a few times during the auction as if I’m a stray animal Skylar brought home to try and tame into pet material. His dad hasn’t made eye contact once and seems to be perpetually searching for more interesting conversation companions. Only Katie has truly made me feel welcome here and she’s so busy she can barely see straight. She’s currently standing next to the man in the sharp Armani suit running the auction. The bids have hit as high as twelve thousand dollars so far and I’m twitching in my seat. Skylar is up and I realize I could’ve gone my entire life and never seen him in a tux. I probably would’ve been better off. He’s the stuff fantasies are made of and I have no business fantasizing. Katie reads off a few facts I already know about him, eye color, weight, height, and that he’s a collegiate soccer player before the auctioneer opens up the bidding. Several women begin bidding and the amount hits five thousand in a matter of seconds. Jesus. And here I’ve been spending night after night with him for free. “Fifty-five hundred,” Fallon calls out, bidding for the first time. My stomach plummets as my heart takes off like an angry hummingbird trying to escape my chest. Of course she’s going to bid on him. She practically tried to sit in his lap all through dinner. I don’t even want to imagine how deep her pockets are. I have sixty-eight dollars in the bank. Skylar said he’d pay, but how much can I ask him to pay for a night with me? “Six thousand,” I call out, alarmed at how strong and clear my voice sounds. “Seven,” Fallon counters quickly, shooting me a confident smirk that says back off, bitch loud and clear.

E

“Eight,” another girl across the room calls out. “We have eight. Do we have nine?” The auctioneer calls out. Skylar ’s head swivels at the back and forth before he gives a pointed glare. I see him flash all ten fingers discreetly at waist level. “Ten thousand dollars,” I call out, hoping this will be the end of it. I’m sweating as it is. The room has quieted and everyone is watching us closely. “Fifteen,” Fallon says evenly. No she didn’t. My disbelief is all over my face. I give Skylar a helpless look and he nods me on. “Um, sixteen?” “We have ‘um, sixteen,’” the auctioneer teases. “Can I get seventeen? This is a worthwhile charity, folks. Do it for the kids.” “Twenty-thousand dollars,” Fallon calls out clear as a bell. Jesus. I shake my head at Skylar. No way in hell can I ask him to pay twenty thousand freaking dollars just to hang out with me tonight. He widens his eyes at me, silently conveying that I should keep going, but I can’t. No night with me would be worth that. I’m in danger of having PTSD-style flashbacks. Men paying for me, feeling obligated to do things I don’t want to because money changed hands. I can’t. I won’t. Never again. The circumstances are different but the scenario is basically the same. I shouldn’t be here. Skylar and Fallon look like a couple. They look like wealth and privilege and manicured lawns and mansions. I can practically see their future playing out behind my eyes. Wedding on some huge estate looking like a two-page spread in Vogue, perfect prep school children, and an overpriced dog. At a dinner party Fallon will flash her huge diamond ring and say something like “remember that trashy slut from New York you brought to the auction that one time? What was that about?” And Skylar will roll his eyes and say, “I slummed it a little college, sweetheart. Forgive me.” My dinner is threatening to come back up so I wash it down with another glass of champagne. During my wide-awake nightmare, the bidding on Skylar has ended and the next bachelor is on the block. Fallon won. Fallon can have him. I stand and excuse myself to the ladies room. I dodge waiters through the courtyard and nearly knock over a seventy-year-old woman in a pink dress and pearls on my way back into the house. It’s a maze of doors and hallways until I finally find a bathroom. The girl in the mirror taunts me. Coward. She’s wide-eyed and gaunt-looking, swallowed whole by the grand marble fixtures surrounding her. I glare at her. She should pull it together. Hold her head high. None of these people matter to me. I’ll probably never see any of them again and that should be a good thing. So Skylar ’s going to spend the evening with his ex. He’s not mine. I don’t own him. I use the facilities then wash my hands and freshen up the lipgloss Katie gave me. This isn’t that big of a deal, I tell my reflection. I’m only like an hour from campus. I can go back to my dorm any time

I want. My lonely, empty dorm room. Or I can stay here and hang out with Katie if she didn’t bid on anyone after I left. I doubt she’s going to want to go out tonight after the day she’s had so maybe we can just sit up and drink and have a girl’s night. Deep breaths. I’m tougher than this. I’ve survived a hell of a lot worse than some drama queen bidding on a guy I have a slight crush on. I’m also really good at lying to myself. Which is a good thing, because I have a feeling I’ll be doing it for the rest of the night. “Want to dance?” The attractive blond future corporate accountant-looking guy with glasses who pulled my chair out before dinner asks me as soon as I step outside. “Looks like your date is going to be occupied.” He nods at where Fallon is thoroughly enjoying being in Skylar ’s arms on the dance floor. She looks like a cat in heat. To Skylar ’s credit, he’s at least looking over her head as if trying to find someone. Over here, buddy. “Sure,” I say, taking his arm and allowing him to lead me to an unoccupied section of the wooden dance floor. “Um…” “Brent,” he tells me. “Brent.” I smile. “I’m Corin. From the wrong side of New York,” I say with a wink. “What a coincidence. That’s my favorite area,” he teases good-naturedly. The band is lively and the songs are mostly upbeat so we dance until my feet ache. “How come you weren’t in the auction?” I ask when we take a break to grab more drinks. My head is swimming a little from all the alcohol, but it’s a nice distraction from Skylar and Fallon. “Promise not to tell?” he asks before taking a drink of his bourbon. I nod, leaning in for the secret. “My grandma bids on me every year. So I begged Katie to let me sit out if I just donated the amount she usually bids.” I laugh until my side hurts. Brent makes a crack about me taking pleasure in his pain and I giggle harder. “Best five thousand I’ve ever spent,” he says straight-faced. “Aww, but one day you’ll miss her and wish you’d spent the evening with her,” I inform him as I get my laughter under control. “There are worse things than a grandmother who wants to spend the evening with her grandson and is willing to pay for it.” He nods. “You ever cleaned out eight litter boxes? Eight litter boxes that haven’t been cleaned out in months, possibly a year since the last auction?” “Um, no. Can’t say I have.” He smirks at me. “Exactly. So don’t judge me, lady.” I laugh and polish off another glass of champagne before he leads me back to the dance floor. The music has slowed and Skylar and Fallon are nowhere to be seen. Not that I care. The more intoxicated I get, the easier the lies come. “How come you didn’t bid on anyone else?” I shrug. “I don’t know anyone else.” “So you and Skylar aren’t like…a thing?” My drunk brain doesn’t want to answer anymore questions. “Oh, no. Not really. I mean, we hang

out at school sometimes. But no. We’re nothing.” Thank God for alcohol. “Nothing, huh?” Skylar ’s voice is angry and wounded from behind me. I suck in a breath and turn to face him. He doesn’t even look at me. “Burgess, what’d you have for breakfast?” My hands begin to tremble at my sides. “Uh, egg white omelet. Why?” Skylar ’s face contorts into a mask of ugliness. “Well I had Corin for breakfast. And I’ve decided I want seconds, so if you’ll excuse us.” Bastard. He takes my elbow but I am on fire from the shame caused by his words. Why humiliate me like that? I so get it now, why Julia Roberts was pissed when Richard Gere told the guy from Seinfeld she was a hooker. I jerk out of his grasp and slap his face as hard as I can. My hand stings but I don’t care. “Don’t dress me up and try to make me look like something I’m not if you’re just going to tell everyone I’m your piece of ass.” Lifting my dress so I don’t trip over it, I all but sprint through the crowd and to Katie’s room the best I can manage. Katie is on her way out of it, looking ready to collapse. “Corin? Everything okay?” “Your brother is an asshole,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry. He just—” “No, I know. He can be sometimes.” She shakes her head. “And Fallon…I suspected when I saw her here that she’d cause trouble. I’m sorry about that.” I catch my breath and do my best to calm down. “It’s not even that. It’s…” I couldn’t even put it into words. “I shouldn’t have come.” “Well I’m glad you came but I understand. Stay in my room tonight. I’m going to be up late finishing up with the party and then I’m probably going to head to my apartment since it’s closer to work. Don’t let Fallon or my brother get to you. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.” With that she leaves me alone at her door to contemplate my options. Skylar tops the stairs just as I’ve decided to head back downstairs to drink enough to numb the pain. “Corin, I—” “Don’t. Just don’t.” I put my hand up to keep him from coming any closer. “I don’t need an explanation because I know what happened. You danced with your ex, the ex you’ll be leaving here and spending the night with while I’m alone wondering what you’re doing. The ex I wouldn’t even know about if I hadn’t come here. But you saw me dancing with someone who was being kind to me, so you got your testosterone all in a bunch and decided to come piss a circle around me to let him know who was boss, right? That about cover it?” Skylar ’s jaw ripples with tension. “I shouldn’t have said what I did and I came up here to apologize.” “You do a lot of that. Maybe you should have a business card made that you can just hand out every time you act like a dick.” I snort out a harsh laugh. “‘I’m Skylar Martin and I’m sorry for whatever asshole thing I did to you today.’ I’d buy in bulk if I were you.” “Maybe I will. I’ll order you some too. ‘I’m Corin Connelly and I’m fucking scared of everything and I hide behind sarcasm so no one thinks I have any feelings.’” My entire body flares in anger. “You’re a son of bitch, Skylar Martin. And right now, I honest to God wish I had never met you.”

“Well you’ve met my mother, so I guess you’re entitled to your opinion.” I shake my head. Enough. “Just tell me why? Why humiliate me like that?” Skylar ’s eyes fill with genuine remorse so I look away. He steps closer and touches my chin softly. “I was coming to cut in, to talk to you about tonight and see if you were okay. Hearing you say we were nothing…it hurt. I reacted badly and I am truly sorry for what I said.” And now I know why Julia Roberts stayed. The tension in my chest eases. It’s been a long damn day. “I’m sorry I said we were nothing.” I wrap my arms around myself. “It’s just, I don’t really know what we are or how to define it and the past few days have been crazy and seeing you and Fallon made me think that maybe we really aren’t anything. Maybe I’m just some girl you met a college and that’s all I’ll ever be.” Skylar looks at me like I’m speaking Greek. “You will never be just some girl, Corin. Never. Not now and not five or ten years from now.” “You think we’ll still know each other five or ten years from now?” Skylar sighs. “No way to know for sure, but I’d like to think so. I hope so at least.” “I hope so too,” I admit for the first time. He’s right in a way. I don’t like feeling vulnerable at all. It’s scary and I’d rather avoid it. But when Skylar leans in and kisses me firmly on the lips, I decide it’s not so bad. “Come down downstairs and dance with me? Pretty please? I promise to behave.” I laugh as we make our way down the lush staircase. “When do you ever behave?” “Good point.” Just as we re-enter the party, Fallon steps in front of us. “I’ve been looking for you, Skylar,” she pouts. “I’m ready to go.” I feel Skylar tense beside me. “I brought Corin here and I’m going to dance with her before we go.” With that, he moves us past her. “Sky…” I whisper. “She paid a lot of money to spend time with you. Maybe we should—” “We’re going to dance, Corin. She’ll live.” We dance through two songs before I can’t hold it in anymore. “So, um, what are you and her going to do tonight?” Skylar ’s expression tightens. “Argue about why she pulled that stunt. I’ll take her to this club she likes and I’ll wait for her to finish proving her point that she can do what she wants with whatever victims she choses. Then hopefully I can take her home and come back here to you. Will you sleep in my room?” “Um…no offense, Sky, but being in your bed when you get home from a date with another girl doesn’t sound particularly appealing.” He nods. “I get that but I swear to you, it’s not a date. If you weren’t here, I can just about guarantee she wouldn’t have bid on me. She’d probably be blowing Burgess in a corner somewhere. Trust me.” “You don’t have a very high opinion of her.” Skylar swallows hard and pulls me closer. “No, I don’t. We have a long sordid history. But mostly I feel sorry for her. She lives in a world of pain she refuses to walk away from and there’s nothing I can do to help her. I tried. For a long time.” I want to know more about this and I tell him so. “I’ll explain everything when I get home if you still want to hear about it. I hope I get to come home and hold you all night then we can get up and grab breakfast and head back to campus. Would that be okay?” I nod against his chest. “Yeah. Better than.” “Skylar,” Katie’s exhausted voice breaks in. “We need to talk.”

We break apart and I see Fallon glowering at me from behind her. “I’m sorry.” Katie aims the apology in my direction. “Skylar, you know the rules. Fallon’s ready to leave and you are her escort for the evening. Otherwise she’s within her rights to retract her bid.” Skylar narrows his eyes on both of them. “Fine by me. I can match her bid.” Katie looks deflated and dead on her feet when she lets out a sigh of exasperation. “No. It’s fine,” I say, not wanting to cause Katie anymore stress when she’s been so nice to me. “I’m about to head up to bed anyways.” “I’ll be back soon,” Skylar tells me before kissing me firmly on the forehead. “Promise.” No one’s ever kissed me there before and it makes my entire body tingle. Probably silly considering where he had his mouth this morning but there is something about his gesture that touches me deeply. Before I can recover, they’re gone and I’m left with Katie and a room full of strangers. “Where’s Skylar ’s room?” “Second on the left across the hall from mine,” she tells me. “And seriously, Fallon is nothing to lose sleep over. She’s old news and believe me when I say Skylar moved on a long time ago.” I hope so. But hours later when I’m laying in Skylar ’s bed surrounded by the scent of him, I can’t stop the worries from coming. It’s almost three in the morning. Most of the nearby clubs close at two. I checked online one of the dozen times I checked my phone. No messages. No calls. No texts. Not a word. I swallow hard and stare at the darkened ceiling. The half-empty bottle of wine I’ve been working on alone mocks me from the nightstand. Fuck it. I’ll blame the alcohol. I pull Skylar ’s contact info up and my phone and call him. It goes straight to voicemail. So either his phone is dead or he declined my call. My first message is tame. Hey… Worried about you. Hope everything is okay. My second is less so. It’s nearly four in the morning so I’m going to crash. Guess you’re busy. Good night. When the sun starts coming up I’m hurting like hell, the bottle is empty, and I still haven’t gotten a single response from any of my texts or voicemails. Hey, Sky…super bummed that you never made it home last night. I was hoping we’d have breakfast together again. You weren’t the only one who wanted seconds, but maybe you were just teasing. Lying naked in your bed all night made me so wet, I was hoping you’d help me out with that but I guess I can take care of it myself. Hope you had a good night. I disconnect the call, hating myself. Tears of anger and disgust prick my eyes. Never again. I swore up and down I would never be this girl again. First order of business, get out of his damn bed. Second order, stay out of it.

he hospital lights are glaring and adding to my skull-shattering headache. Fucking Fallon. Part of me wanted to just drop her off at the ER and go home, but I can’t stop thinking about Corin and how she would feel about me doing something that cold and callus. The club start closing and I couldn’t find Fallon anywhere so I had to enlist the help of security. They found her covered in her own vomit barely conscious in the ladies room. I rub my hand over my eyes as the sun comes up. Alcohol poisoning, they said, and a negative reaction to the cocktail of narcotics in her system. It’s like high school all over again. She wakes up when the nurse comes to take her vitals around seven. My phone has been dead for hours and I’m praying Katie was able to keep Corin company all night. There aren’t enough flowers in the world to fix this and I know it. “You’re here,” Fallon rasps out. “Guess I partied a little too hard last night.” She has the nerve to smile like this is cute somehow. “Yeah. But you’re awake now so I’m going. The nurse on duty last night called your parents and they said to call when you’re discharged and they’ll send a car.” “Skylar, wait. Please?” I hang around until the nurse is finished with the blood pressure cuff. “We’ve been through this more times than I can count, Fallon. How much longer are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” Tears fill her eyes but I became immune to Fallon’s tears a long time ago. “I want an answer. Is this how you want to live your life forever?” I shake my head. “For fuck’s sake, Fallon. You paid twenty grand for what? So I could have a front row seat to this shit? I already caught acts one and two in high school. Thanks.” “Who’s that girl to you? The redhead? I want to know.” I feel my eyebrows lift. “This is about Corin? That’s who you’re going to blame last night’s bender on? Really? Because you’ve been doing this as long as I’ve known you and you never even met her before last night. So sure, let’s blame it on her. A random girl you’d never met pushed you over the edge. What the fuck ever.” “She’s not random to you, Skylar. I saw you. You seem like a completely different person around her. Why? What’s so fucking special about her?” “Everything,” I answer without thinking. “Everything about her is special and you and I have been done for a long time. You need help, Fallon. And I hope you get it. I really do. But I can’t help you. I tried, remember? Your parents tried. The therapists have tried. And I’m sure they’ll keep trying. But I can’t do this anymore.” She screams my name as I walk out the door. I lean against the wall and try not to be affected by the

T

sound of sobbing. On my way out of the hospital I use the phone at the nurses desk to call her dad at work. I had to call it so many times when we were dating, I have his direct line memorized. “This is Jack,” he answers after the receptionist puts me through. “It’s Skylar Martin.” “Hey, Skylar. How are you? Your dad and I played golf last week and he mentioned—” “I’m fine. But your daughter isn’t. Fallon’s at University hospital. Don’t send a car to pick her up this time. Come get her your fucking self, Jack.” Corin is gone when I get back to my house. I’m not even surprised. Once I plug my phone in and it comes back to life I hear her messages. I hurt her last night. Repeatedly. The pain is evident in her voice. The last message is hot as fuck but out of character so I know it was meant to be a jab to let me know what I was missing. I know, all right. I want to choke Fallon. And her shitty parents. I want to grab my stuff and head back to campus but I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m going to sleep for a while. And them I’m going to head back to SoCal and grovel like I have never groveled before.

ince the weekend that never should’ve been that resulted because of the bet that shall not be mentioned, I’ve been able to successfully avoid Skylar. Luckily this semester we don’t have any classes together. He took up residence in my mind for a while though and I failed a quiz in psych and a midterm in Calculus and decided then and there I would not throw away something I worked hard for just because of a boy. Been there, done that. Not going back. I start work at the diner and get in touch with Skylar ’s friend Jax. I am now out of the dorm room I couldn’t afford on my own thanks to him subletting to me for nearly half the price. I changed the locks the day I moved in. If I can keep up steady tips I’ll be able to afford a tutor for Calculus. Skylar calls at least once a day and texts several times but I ignore it. It is what it is. I’m familiar with the cycle we were on. Selfish, hurtful behavior, apology, forgiveness, repeat. Pass. Layla checks in occasionally but I don’t offer much. Just listen about the awesomeness that is Spain and a community service project she’s working on. Reassure her that I’m fine. I celebrate my twentieth birthday alone in my apartment with a cupcake from the diner. And I am fine. Until I’m not.

S

“I t’s a contract for next season but you’d be leaving this summer to start training with the team. It’s not a million dollars but it’s an excellent offer, Skylar. It’s a foot in the door with a highly respected coach.” Stan Weinstein has been a friend of my family’s for years and my sports agent for two. Six months ago, I would’ve loved to have gotten this call from him. We put my highlight reels out to every team we could get an address for my senior year of high school. We had a couple of smaller teams interested but nothing panned out so I ended up at SoCal. And now apparently one of those teams, an international one based in Brazil, has made a legit offer. “Can I have some time to think about it?” Like, until Corin speaks to me again at least. “You have a week,” he informs me. “Then they’ll move on to the next candidate, a kid from Portugal with a great deal of promise. Think fast.” “Yes sir,” I tell him. I stare at my phone. I’ve called her a million times. I’ve messaged. I thought she just needed time. Unfortunately that’s the one thing I’m out of. It’s after midnight when Corin comes home. I’m sitting by the door of the apartment she rents from Jax. The apartment where we’ve played video games for hours and ordered and eaten more pizzas than I can count. The apartment where I fell in love with her—even if I didn’t realize it at the time. I’ve been here so long my ass is asleep and numb and I struggle to stand with any semblance of dignity. She doesn’t even look a little happy to see me. “What are you doing here?” “I was hoping I could get a Mortal Combat rematch. Unless you’re scared.” The last word ruffles her feathers. “I’m not scared in the least. But it’s late and I’ve been on my feet all day.” “New job?” I point at the shirt she’s wearing. It’s a diner we went to with Landen and Layla before they left. I vaguely remember her mentioning putting in an application. “Yep. Super glamorous, but some of us have to work to pay for tuition and textbooks. Can’t all be soccer super stars. Excuse me.” She nudges past me while finagling her keys to get to the right one. “About that…” I begin as Corin opens the door and walks past without inviting me in. At least she didn’t slam it in my face. “Can we talk? Five minutes—that’s all I ask.” She leans on the door and gives me a world-weary look reminding me that she does not have time

for my shit. “I’ll make it quick. Here. This is for you.” I hand her the compact unwrapped box I got her for her birthday. It’s the entire seven seasons of The Gilmore Girls on DVD with a bow on top because I didn’t have any wrapping paper. “I meant to grab them from your place in New York but I got, um, sidetracked.” I clear my throat and continue. “The night of the auction, Fallon over did it at the club and ended up in the ER with alcohol poisoning. I wanted to say hell with her and drop her off but it felt wrong and honestly, you make me want to be a better person. I couldn’t imagine returning to you and telling you I’d done that. I can see now that I should’ve made an effort to get in touch so you weren’t worried.” “Thank you for this. And I wasn’t worried. Though I was hurt. It doesn’t matter,” Corin tells me, waving a hand as if it’s water under the bridge. “It just reminded me of that girl I used to be. What happened in New York…it was like I went back there and became that same girl all over again. But I’m done with that. I hope Fallon’s okay.” “She’s fine,” I answer quickly, “and I’m sorry if anything I did made you feel that way.” “It’s over with. I’m not interested in dwelling. Just moving on, you know?” I nod and she continues. “Anyways, I’m tired. Was that all?” I square my shoulders and brace myself for the oncoming rejection. “Yeah, there is.” I clear my throat and think of the best way to tell her about the team in Brazil. “So…” “I got called up. To the pros. A team out of Brazil. I leave at the end of this semester.” She doesn’t flinch or even change her facial expression, but I see something flash in her eyes. Pain, maybe. Surprise, definitely. But it’s brief and before I can register the actual emotions, she pulls the walls back down. “Well, that’s…awesome for you. Congratulations.” No hug. No come inside to celebrate. No ‘I’ll miss you.’ Okay, then. “All right, well I just wanted to tell you. So now you know.” I feel like a dipshit. I shove my hands in my pockets. “Goodbye, Skylar,” she says with so much finality I feel like she’s socked me in the gut. “Wait, Corin,” I plead, pressing my hand to the door before she can close it. “Just…if you need anything, or you decide you want to hang out, or if you just want to talk, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night.” She nods but her demeanor says hell will freeze over first. Fuck.

t’s been a week since Skylar dropped a bomb on me. A long week. He’s leaving. Two months of school, technically less if he takes finals early, which I’m sure he’s already arranged because he’s Skylar. First Layla, then him. I’m starting to develop a complex. Befriend me and you will need to leave the country. I’m happy for him. I am. At least I’m trying to be. I miss him. He told me the truth about Fallon and I believe him. Deep down I know I shouldn’t have run back here that next morning without talking to him. But I’d humiliated myself with the damn messages. I turned right back into that girl I was trying so hard to leave behind. It’s like I picked her up and put her back on by going back to New York and the thought of that was horrifying. My memories from our time together in New York keep repeating over and over in my head like a song the radio won’t stop overplaying. The cuddling, the tears, the honesty. Breakfast and flowers. His mouth on me. Knowing I will probably never feel the way he makes me feel again is heartbreaking. I still have his shirt—the one from his room that I slept in the night of the auction. It’s draped across my chair and after I’ve showered, I do the stupidest thing possible. I put it on. Pulling my knees in under it, I lower myself onto the futon in the half-empty common room. My wet hair lays heavy on my back as I breathe his scent in. Why did stupid Fallon have to show up and bid on him? In a way, I know I’m the one that convinced him it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. God it was. I chew my thumbnail and let my eyes drift around the room. Those stupid red stilettos catch my eye and I hate seeing them. They remind me of what he said the night we fell asleep playing video games. He brought up the damn shoes and then psychoanalyzed me. Screw this. I am not, will not, and cannot be this girl. Standing abruptly, I decide to do what I always do when the going gets tough. I’m going dancing. And I’m wearing my red fucking heels. Take that, Skylar Martin.

I

The club is packed, and yet, I feel strangely isolated. Probably because every one else is with someone, at least one someone, and I’m alone. If Layla were here she’d be with me.

But she isn’t. Because she took a risk—one you convinced her to take, Connelly. Yeah, yeah. My stupid subconscious is my worst enemy sometimes. It’s a wonder I can even hear it over the pounding techno music. A few guys give me inviting head nods as I walk past. I’m channeling Sandra Dee in my tight black dress under a leather jacket. The only thing I’m wearing that isn’t black are the red stilettos. Making my way toward to center of the dance floor, I stop and order three shots before I shake my ass for the world to see. After the third one, the room goes fuzzy and I stupidly check my phone to see if he’s called. He hasn’t. Why would he? You basically told him to fuck off. Aren’t internal thoughts supposed to be in first person? Mine aren’t. Mine are more like having an inner bitch that likes to scold me and put me down. No wonder I have self-esteem issues. Making my way through the throng of couples bumping and grinding reminds me of the night Skylar and I danced for the first time. God, how he could move. Sensual and rhythmic, as if he anticipated my every move and could match it, was prepared for it. That’s how he’d be in bed. But you’ll never know. I switch my bitchy inner monologue off. But when I start dancing, an unwelcome truth invades my brain. So many guys. I’ve given it up to more than I can count. Well, four that I willingly slept with by choice. I don’t count Eddie’s friends or the times I got paid for it. Kind of like when I’m waitressing I don’t count how many cups of coffee I serve. But Skylar, the one good guy in my life, him I can’t sleep with. Him I shut out and scare off. Why are you so fucked up? “I don’t know,” I say aloud, realizing as soon as I do that I’ve answered my own thought. Great. I’m going insane. “What’s that, baby?” A male voice from behind me says. “Oh, sorry,” I say, bumping into a tall guy in white oxford button down as I try to escape the overcrowded corner I’ve somehow backed myself into. “Want to dance,” he yells over the music. His beer sloshes out of the bottle when someone bumps into him. It spills onto his shirt but he doesn’t notice. He just takes another drink, eyeing me curiously as he does. “I think I’m good. I’m just here to dance—by myself. Thank you, though,” I say, trying not to be rude. “Come on, babe,” he says, swaying against me so that I can’t go anywhere. His free hand lands on my hip. “Dancing alone is no fun. One dance.” I swallow and nod. It’s easier to just dance with him than make a big dramatic scene. He’s a big guy, taller than Skylar but meatier and less muscular. And slurring enough that I know he’s drunk. I dance half-heartedly, facing away from him until the song ends. “Thanks for the dance,” I say, knowing how formal and lame it sounds but needed to get away from him and trying to do it in the least offensive way possible. “I’m going to head over to the bar and grab another drink. Have a nice night.” “Hang on, babe.” His hand grips tighter on my hip as his erection presses against my ass. My stomach roils at the contact. “One more, then I’ll buy you a drink.” I shake my head. “My friend is waiting. I need to go.” “What friend?” He looks over the people around us. “I don’t see anyone looking for you.” Because I don’t really have any friends. “He works here,” I lie easily. “He’s a bouncer.”

His eyes scan over me as if he’s removing my clothes already. “Okay. Well go get your drink and come back, sweet cheeks.” I nod, forcing a tight smile, thankful that he lets go of me. That is until he slaps me, hard, on the ass. “Are you infuckingsane?” I scream, whirling around to glare at him. “Do not just hit a woman you barely know on the ass, you creep.” A guy next to him turns from the skinny blonde grinding on his dick to see what the fuss is all about. “Crenshaw? Everything all right here, man?” I turn my glare to the guy in the blue polo shirt. “No. It’s not. In fact, you should teach your friend some fucking manners.” “He didn’t mean it,” polo shirt promises me. “He’s wasted. It’s his twenty-first birthday.” “Good for fucking him.” I turn to leave, but a hand pulls my arm, wrenching me backward. “How about a birthday kiss? Or you can join me in the men’s room and show me if the drapes match the curtains.” What the hell is this guy’s damage? Drunk, I understand. But I’m thinking he might be brain dead. “Get your hands off me,” I yell, jerking out of his grasp. Polo shirt pulls his friend aside. “She’s not interested man. Back off.” “She’s a frigid fucking bitch is what she is.” He sneers at me and his friend laughs. I just wanted to dance. I make my way through the crowd just as Skylar ’s favorite song comes on. It’s a remix, but I can hear the lyrics buried under the bass. The words strike me hard in the chest. I miss him so much it hurts. I miss Layla too, but I know she did the right thing. Why can’t I? I lectured her about hiding from life and I’m doing the same thing. Sort of. She was hiding from life, and I’m hiding from love—or the possibility of it at least. Tears threaten the corners of my eyes as I reach the bar and order another shot. I down it quickly, before ordering another, knocking each one back without the customary lime chaser and embracing the burn. I’ll take a cab back to the apartment. Then what? Then I’ll lie alone in my empty room wearing his shirt, wishing I were with him. I’ve been so afraid of getting caught up in him and losing myself, but the truth is, the only time I feel like I can be myself is when I’m with him. Then why did you run? I really don’t know for sure. It was a combination of things. I was angry, jealous, and then mostly too embarrassed to face him. Before I realize what I’ve done, I’m outside of the club gasping for fresh air. It was stuffy as hell in there and I can’t even remember why I wanted to come. Skylar ’s last words play on a steady loop in my head. If you need anything, or you decide you want to hang out, or if you just want to talk, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night. I need him. And I never meant to need anyone, but it’s the truth. My hand finds my phone in my pocket and as scared as I am of what or who he’s doing at one in the morning on a Saturday night or what he’ll say about me calling this late, I pull up my favorites. His name is first.

hen a week passes and I don’t hear from her, I’m a fucking lunatic. O’Brien would be so proud. I can’t even go to Jax’s place because she lives there now so the whole team has been watching me come apart at the fucking seams. I went out with a few of them tonight and I checked my phone half a dozen times before they started calling me a chick. “You waiting on a booty call, Martin?” Blackburn took special joy in screwing with me. “Maybe she found someone with a bigger willy, mate.” Doubtful. Mine’s pretty damn big and the last thing she seems to want. Unless she’s hammered, then she talks me to my knees. That husky voice, telling me to come home so she can show me how much she misses me is haunting my dreams. I should’ve left Fallon at the ER, but it felt wrong. And I was scared. Me, Skylar motherfucking Martin, scared shitless. I was scared of screwing up and losing Corin’s trust. Sleeping with her that night when she was vulnerable and half-wasted would’ve been a surefire way to do just that. After a few hours, I decide to bail on guy’s night out. Blackburn calls out insults to my back as I leave, but I have no fucks to give. I’m unlocking the door to my dorm room when my phone rings. I open the door and step inside while retrieving it from my pants pocket. Red, my screen says. Finally. I feel like I can actually breathe for the first time in forever. There’s my girl. “Hey, baby,” I answer, hoping she’s calling to tell me I can see her somewhere, somehow. “You were right,” she says, sounding like she’s been crying. “I usually am, sweetheart.” I wish I could see whether or not I’d made her smile. “But what about this time?” “I miss you,” she whispers like it’s a secret she’s ashamed to admit. Air leaves my lungs so abruptly that I don’t say anything right away. “I’m at Shortie’s,” she continues. “Come and get me?” “Be right there.”

W

The cab pulls up to the curb in front of the club and I see her standing there. She’s wearing the red heels and holding her black leather jacket tightly around herself. I jump out before the driver brings the car to a complete standstill. “Corin,” I call to her, feeling like the world falls away and there is only her. I don’t know why, but this girl, this girl is so unlike every other girl I’ve known. This girl is my girl. “Hey,” she says shakily, making her way over to me. “Sorry to call so late. I could’ve just taken a

cab, but—” She doesn’t get to finish her apology. As soon as she’s close enough, I pull her to me and press my lips firmly to hers. I want to hold her all night, like I did in New York. Something’s wrong, and my usually strong girl is fragile tonight. I let my tongue slide inside her mouth and I taste tequila. She’s been drinking, but I don’t care. She called me. She could’ve gone home alone or with some other asshole, but she didn’t. I know what a huge leap this is for her. Trying to be independent, trying to focus on school, but tonight she needs me. So tonight, I’m hers.

e tastes so good. I can’t get enough. Sweet like some type of minty gum but underneath I taste expensive beer. Ale. Not the cheap stuff the rest of us drink. He pulls me into the cab and I scramble onto his lap, devouring his mouth and tangling my hands in his hair. “You came,” I whisper against his lips. “Of course I did, crazy girl. You told me to.” I smile and continue my greedy exploration of his mouth. “You’re not going to rub it in?” I pull back and search his face for the familiar traces of arrogance. “That you were right?” I bite my tongue and wait. He can gloat. I deserve it. “Maybe later.” His lips land on mine and I can’t stop myself from turning to straddle him. “You didn’t call,” I say stupidly. Obviously he knows this. “I was busy.” I suck in a breath, because shit, that stings. “Oh yeah? Busy got a name?” He brushes his nose against mine and there is mischief gleaming in his gaze. “Yeah. I was busy climbing the fucking walls trying to figure out why you left and how to get you to say those dirty things to me while you were sober.” I groan and let my head fall to the crook of his neck. “I can’t remember what all I said, but I can imagine.” He places a chaste kiss on my forehead and lets his head rest against the seat. “Something about being naked and wet in my bed. And needing my help with something.” I moan my despair and he tightens his grip on me. “Easy on the moaning while you’re in my lap, babe.” My lips press to his neck because I can’t not kiss his smooth throat when it’s this close to my mouth. “I was jealous. And then I was drunk and jealous. Not the best combination.” He tilts his head away to grin down at me. “Oh, I don’t know. It was…enlightening.” “I bet.” I hide my face again. I’m blushing. Me. Blushing. I pray he can’t tell in the darkened backseat. “We’re here,” he says at the cab pulls up to the curb in front of Jax’s—well, my place now. “Can I come in?” I nod. “Yeah…I was hoping that you would.” The apartment is dark when we step inside. Skylar pulls me tight against him and devours my mouth. “Sorry,” he says, pulling back before I’m ready for the kiss to end. “I had to have one more taste.”

H

“Just one more?” He nods. “You’ve been drinking. And I’ve got two months, Corin. I’m not going to fuck it up on day one.” I’m not sure what he’s implying but when he starts setting up the game console, I’m more than a little disappointed. But as we play, or as I kick his butt at Mortal Combat for the millionth time, we settle into something I’ve grown to realize feels like home. “That first night, you gave me the bed,” I mention casually. “But you didn’t try to get in with me and make a move.” Skylar clicks a few more buttons on his controller before turning to me. “Yeah?” “How come?” He’s quiet for so long I’m not sure he’s going to answer. After he takes my player down and gloats for a few seconds he says, “It wasn’t exactly a date. We were here because Layla and Landen needed to be alone, not because you were into me like that. I got that you were guarded. I figured I was pretty special that you were spending time hanging out with me alone. Didn’t want to do anything to make you regret it.” “I don’t,” I say barely loud enough to be heard. “Regret spending time with you,” I clarify. Skylar nods and disregards the game completely, setting his controller aside. “I’m glad. I know I haven’t exactly been a gentleman at all times and I have fucked up royally more times that I can to count. But I hope you know that while we may not have the fairytale romance that Landen and Layla do, we do have something, Corin. Something that matters to me. A lot.” I watch him, memorizing his face, his jaw, his eyes and the dark lashes that line them. “I like our story better than the fairytale anyways,” I tell him. “You do?” His brow creases. “How come?” I smile and touch his cheek with the palm of my hand, enjoying the stubble on my sensitive skin. “Because it’s real. And it’s ours.” “You know what I realized, during our weekend of cross-country insanity?” “That you will never have a better cheesesteak than you did in New York?” He laughs lightly. “Naw. I think Philly still has you beat, sweetheart.” Before I can argue, he continues. “I realized that as different as our backgrounds may seem, we’re actually very similar.” “Uh, Sky, I was raised in a shoe box. You lived in a mansion the size of this building.” “Nuance,” Skylar informs me. “That’s just the technicalities. We both have parents that focused more on themselves and were oblivious to how that affected us. We both learned how to have our own backs. But that’s what I want to talk to you about…” “Getting me on my back?” I tease. One corner of his mouth lifts in response. “Whenever you’re ready, Red. But no, that’s not what I’m referring to.” “I’m listening.” Skylar looks so intense and serious it feels like he’s about to propose. “I have your back, Corin Connelly. I want you to know that. Wherever I am in the world, wherever you are. You need anything, you tell me, okay?” I contemplate his words carefully. “Layla was the first real girl friend I ever had. Not sure what that says about me that it took nineteen years to make a friend. And now, there’s you. So…yeah. I accept. And I promise to have your back too, Sky. I might not being able to knock guys out in a single punch, but I can cut a bitch if I need to.” I nudge him and he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Landen was the first real friend I ever had. The guys I hung out with in high school would just as soon hang out with you as screw your girlfriend.”

I wince at the pain current flowing beneath his words. “That actually happen?” Skylar nods. “Harrison Hayes was like the brother I never had. We played little league soccer together, learned to ride bikes together, went to summer camp together every year since we were eight. But by the time we got to high school, he quit the Varsity soccer team and fell into the same shit a lot of my friends with money to burn did. Coke. Drinking constantly. Trashing his cars and reputation and relationships like they were disposable.” “Including yours?” His Adam’s apply bobs as he swallows. I want to wrap my arms around him but I sense that he needs to get this out without getting distracted. “Especially mine. I’d been dating Fallon for nearly a year when I walked in on them fucking in her bedroom. High out of their minds and both acted like I was the messed up one.” I wince at the sound of her name. Fallon Kensington will always be a sore spot for me. Or tender at least. “Anyways,” Skylar goes on, shrugging off the pain of the past and rejoining me in the now, “I just walked away. Told myself I’d keep things light in college—wouldn’t get attached to anyone ever again because people were seriously fucked up. And then I got Landen as a roommate and that plan was shot to hell, though my theory about fucked up people was spot on. Then I met you.” “And I am as fucked up as they come,” I say, only half-joking. Skylar ’s expression tightens. “No, you’re not. You’re strong as hell and braver than anyone I’ve ever met.” I exhale on a half-laugh. “Yeah right.” “I’m serious.” He stares straight into my eyes. “So much of what you’ve been through would’ve broken lesser people. Would’ve knocked them down and kept them down. But you get up and keep going. Every time. That’s no small feat, Red. You impress the hell out of me.” I can feel the heat rising to my face. “Good to know,” I say, snuggling closer to him. “So you won’t think less of me if I tell you I teared up a little when I got this?” I pull my dress up just enough to show him the black and blue butterfly tattoo on my left hip. “Because it hurt like hell, honestly.” Skylar ’s eyes widen as he takes in my ink. Or maybe my panties did it, not sure. His fingers graze the delicate wings and I shiver at his touch. “It’s beautiful,” he says reverently. “Why a butterfly?” Memories of that day, the day I learned I lost the baby, the day I had to go home to my mom’s, the day I decided my story wasn’t over, flood my brain. “Because they survive. They’re nearly smothered in darkness, probably convinced that it’s the end. But they emerge, more beautiful than ever and they have the courage to fly—maybe they fly farther and faster and braver because they appreciate it more—escaping the darkness.” “Like you,” Skylar says softly. I think about his parents and all the shiny, superficial people I saw at the auction—people who barely knew him much less seemed to actually care about him. “Like us,” I amend.

or two months, I am a complete gentleman. I almost don’t even recognize myself. Corin comes to my games, sometimes even pops by practices, or I drop in the diner as her shift ends, we grab dinner, hang out at her place, and at curfew, I say goodnight and head back to my dorm. In every sense of the word, she is my girlfriend, though neither of us has said as much. Something has been building between us and we will either take an important step towards moving forward tonight, or I’ll have to say the hardest goodbye I’ve ever had to. In some ways, it’s been a long two months. And yet it still feels like it flew by entirely two fast. Corin goes into exhausted zombie mode during finals week and I’m busy packing and getting vaccinations and everything else I need for Brazil. Landen and I compare schedules and make plans to meet up when we can. We actually have a tournament in Madrid in a few months where both our teams will compete and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing some familiar faces. I’m hoping Corin will come as well, but I don’t know if she sees anything for us beyond these past two months. Tonight is my last night at SoCal. Whatever Corin feels for me, whatever she’s willing to admit she feels, tonight is the night I’ll find out. I place the small black box on my dresser before getting ready for dinner so I don’t forget it. We have reservations at seven. I have reservations about leaving behind the only girl I’ve ever loved.

F

“Be there in ten,” Corin tells me over the phone. I hang up and tuck my phone into my black suit jacket. Seventy-Five West is a trendy but intimate place about half an hour from campus. I was supposed to pick Corin up at six, but her last final exam ran long so she promised to meet me here. I’m not sure what to expect when she walks in, but it doesn’t matter because when she does, I’m nearly taken to my knees. A tight black wrap dress hugs her curves lovingly. Her hair is up in some sort of fancy girl twist thingy and the heels on her feet look like the same ones she wore to the auction. “Hey, gorgeous,” I tell her, leaning in for a hug. “How was your exam?” Corin smiles appreciatively and huffs out a breath. “Ugh. Awful. Of course calculus would be comprehensive. Pretty sure I bombed some of the questions on older material.” “I’m sure you did fine, Red.” I keep my hand on the small of her back as we follow our maître d to a cozy corner table. “Just glad it’s finally over and I have a few weeks before summer classes start.”

We’re seated and I can’t help but feel a little rejected already. I didn’t realize she was taking summer classes. Kind of puts a damper on what I’m about to ask her. When she looks at the menu, though, I can’t help but smile. Corin’s face lights up as if I have already given her the most important gift that I possibly could. “Sky, this is…this makes me so happy.” I grin. “Well I was hoping it would. Since we won’t be making anymore trips to New York, I thought I could bring New York to you.” Seventy-Five West is known for its unique cuisine—New York diner food with a gourmet twist. “They have cheesesteak. And onion rings.” “And pie,” I add. Corin laughs and a pang of something painful shoots across my chest. I’m going to miss the hell out of her laugh. “I might love you a little bit,” Corin says absently without looking up from her menu. The shooting pang turns to a full on clenching of my heart in my chest. “The feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” I say, but she is still glued to her menu. The waitress comes and takes our order, same as we got back in New York only Corin wants caramel pie instead of apple. As expected, the food is phenomenal and Corin raves about it for most of the evening. We go to a rooftop bar in downtown LA afterward where a friend of mine tends bar, but neither of us drinks much. While Corin is appreciating the view of LA at night and I’m appreciating the view of her, I pull the box from my inner jacket pocket. “There’s something I want to ask you.” I clear my throat to get her full attention and to shake off my nerves. “It’s kind of important.” Corin turns and smiles at me. Her eyes shine so brightly it nearly distracts me from my mission. “What’s up?” “I have something for you. Something you may not want right now, and knowing you, it might even piss you off at first. But I want you to have it, because I meant what I said. I have your back and I will always be there for you in every way that I can.” Corin’s forehead scrunches in confusion, so I hand over the box. Her delicate fingers lift the lid gently. “Um, okay. I’m confused.” I nod. “It’s for whatever you need. Textbooks, rent, a flight to come visit me…” God, I hope she uses it for that last one. “It’s a credit card,” she says blankly. “You’re giving me a credit card.” I shrug. “I don’t want to go a year without seeing you, Corin. And my schedule doesn’t exactly have a lot of breaks built in where I can hop a flight back here. So I’m hoping that if you get time between semesters or on breaks, you’ll want to come visit.” “Skylar…I don’t know what to say.” I suck in a breath. “Say you’ll accept it and you’ll at least think about using it to come see me.” She starts to hand the box back. “It’s very sweet of you, but you know I can’t—” “No,” I say, putting my hands up in refusal. “I know you can at least take it. If you decide you don’t want to fly out to see me, then I’ll have to live with that. But I hope that you will.” I have never hoped for something so hard in my life. Corin frowns at the box in her hand and it dawns on me that she is offended. Men handing over money in exchange for something truly bothers her. But I need her to see that I am not them. I am me, dammit. A better me, because of her. “Look at me.” I watch her reluctantly place the box in her purse. “Please.”

Corin’s eyes meet mine and I say what I’ve been trying to all night. “I promise I will not do anything to hurt you, Corin. Not on purpose. I will screw up because I am human. But this is not money in exchange for you doing something for me. This is something I want you to have because I care about you and I would really like for what we have to continue. What I feel for you isn’t geographical, Red. I will feel it as strongly in Brazil or East Buddha Fuck.” At that she smiles, and the fist clenching my heart eases its grip a bit. “For God’s sakes, say something, Connelly.” I parrot her own words back at her but she looks distracted. “You know I care about you. And I have enjoyed the time we’ve had together more than you know. It’s been important to me…finding someone here that felt like…home.” I sense there is a ‘but’ coming and I tell her so. She bites her lower lip hard before continuing. “I’m trying so hard to be independent, to stand on my own, Sky. And I know myself. If we try to make this into something more…I’ll drive myself crazy wondering what you’re doing, if you’re surrounded by Brazilian models every hour of the night and day, why you haven’t called. Like you said, we’re not Landen and Layla. We live in the real world. Life is not a fairytale and we both know that.” Her words hit me with brute force. “So what are you saying, exactly?” Corin’s expression is pained but I can’t imagine it’s as strong or as sharp as what her words are doing to me. “I’m saying I hope we will always be friends and I will always care about you. But I think trying to start a long distance relationship based on the already shaky foundation we have would be a bad idea.” “I see.” Swallowing is damn near impossible. I guess I’m not good at choking down my pride. “Sky…I’m not trying to hurt you or mess up anything we have. I don’t want to disappoint you or let you down. It’s just…this is reality.” I give a quick jerk of my head. “You ready to go?” Because I am. Five more minutes of Corin telling me she cares about me and what a great friend I am would be more than I could handle. Corin eyes me warily. “Please don’t be mad at me. I can’t stand the thought of you leaving mad.” “Not mad,” is all I can manage to get out. It’s a lie. I am mad. But not at her. At myself. I’m mad I was stupid enough to think someone would bet on me—would put their trust in me. After my own parents didn’t deem me worthy of their time and attention, you’d think I would realize that no one ever will.

t’s entirely possible that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. And for me, that’s saying something. But as I stand at the entrance to the security gate at LAX saying goodbye to Skylar for the final time, I search in vain for words to fix something I’ve broken. He stayed over last night, playing video games and watching the final season of Gilmore Girls to finish up the marathon we began in New York, but his heart wasn’t in it. He turned in early, slept on the couch without a single innuendo about it being our last night together. Since I told him I’m not ready to venture into an international long-distance relationship, he’s been distant. More than distant. He’s been completely devoid of any sign of emotion. Everything has been “fine” or “sounds good” or “yeah, that’s cool.” I didn’t expect him to want a commitment before he left. Honestly, I’d thought he was going to want to sleep together as some grand gesture for his big send off. I’d kind of hoped he would want that, because in some ways, I was ready for that. But nothing could have prepared me for him to hand over a shiny black American Express and say he hoped I’d visit. I felt like a high-priced call girl. And yeah, that’s probably my hang up and something I need to work through. But I haven’t yet. I touch his hand lightly. “So…you’ll call when you land?” “Yep.” I sigh. “And you’ll take pictures of Brazil so I can live vicariously?” He nods. “Sure.” “And you’ll stop with the one word answers so this goodbye doesn’t have to be any more painful than it already is?” Skylar looks annoyed. “What do you want me to say, Corin?” “That you aren’t mad at me. That everything is going to be fine.” He glances around in a way that reminds me of his father. As if there are more important people he could be talking to, or he wishes there were anyway. “I’m not mad. Everything is fine.” “That was a good try,” I say slowly. “Now try it again with some inflection and intonation so you sound less like a robot and more like a human.” He all but rolls his eyes at me. “Goodbye, Red,” he says, kissing me briefly on the cheek. “I meant what I said about the card. Use it for whatever you need and I’ll take care of it.” Fuck the damn card. “Will you send me your schedule so that if I can come visit, we can figure out a good time?” Skylar ’s dark mood brightens just a little. “Sure. Just remind me to send it once I’m settled in.” “I’m going to miss you,” I say softly. “A lot. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.” This is huge for me. He nods. “Going to miss you too. Good luck with classes this summer.”

I

Our goodbye is starting to feel real. And permanent. And wrong. Doubt and regret rush me like a herd of angry animals. I should tell him that I made a mistake. That I love him. That I’ll try the long-distance thing because I’m going to miss him like crazy no matter what we are. I should’ve made love to him last night in a way that let him know he was the only man I’ve ever wanted, trusted, or cared for so deeply. It’s too late. “Skylar, wait. I—” The overhead announcement interrupts me and his flight number is one of the ones rattled off as now boarding. “I need to go, Red. I’ll call you.” With that, I get one firm kiss on the forehead and he disappears into the sea of people rushing between us. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I don’t know how it was supposed to be but I know this is wrong, so wrong. I need a rewind button. I need to call Layla and find out how she found the courage to risk everything for another person. I need to figure out how soon I can visit Brazil.

need a drink. Or ten. Anything to drown out any memory of the past twenty-four hours. What I thought would be the beginning of something real, Corin saw as the end. God it fucking hurt to say goodbye to her, but not as much as hearing her say all she wanted to do was be friends. A year ago I wanted two things. A professional soccer career and an endless string of women in my bed to keep me entertained. Now I only want one thing. Corin. I wanted her to be mine, to say that we could do this, to believe in me and us and what we had. But as the miles grow between us, I start to wonder who the hell I was trying to kid. I’ve already been down this road—tried to be boyfriend of the year with Fallon. But Corin was different, so different from anyone I’d ever known. I thought our story would end differently. No, I thought it would never end. But it’s over now and I need to accept it. Maybe the Brazil United team did me a favor—pulling me out of there before I spent the next four years wasting my time trying to be someone I never could. The stewardess gives me a lingering smile as she hands over my fourth or fifth rum and Coke. I don’t even know if there’s soda in it anymore. I don’t care. I smile back and say thank you with a wink. I know what she sees. Athletic guy wearing expensive clothes and a watch that costs what she makes in a year. That guy, the one I thought I could be for Corin, he’s a weak bitch I have no interest in revisiting. But this guy, the one about to rejoin the mile-high club with a sexy stewardess? Him I recognize. Him I can be. I’ve known him my entire life.

I

Four weeks into practicing as an official member of Brazil United and I now know exactly why Landen O’Brien played with so much intensity. Pent up pissed off wreaks havoc on a man’s mind, but it does wonders for his game. The entire coaching staff showers me with praise and approval. Most of the guys on the team are fairly welcoming and a hell of a lot more mature than the Blackburn types were at SoCal. I never sent Corin my schedule and she stopped asking for it weeks ago. She sends the occasional text to check in and I keep responses to a minimum. We need a clean break but I can’t bring myself to

hurt her like that. It’s not her fault that I wanted more than friendship and she doesn’t owe me anything. I care about her and I always will, but she was right. Reality trumps the fairytale and it is what it is. This was the life I was supposed to be living. SoCal was just some weird mind-fuck of a detour. There’s a party for the team at a swanky local bar and I’m one of the last to arrive. There are four goalies on the team and I’ve made nice with one. Tall and lanky, Sebastian Stevens is a no-bullshit type from Canada and he can drink like no one I’ve ever seen. We’re pounding them back while the rest of the guys practically molest women on the dance floor when a mirage appears in my periphery. She’s wearing a tight green dress that barely covers her thighs and there’s not a man in the bar who hasn’t registered her presence on some level. “Fuck me running,” Sebastian mutters between shots. “Where the hell has she been all my life?” I stare at her in disbelief until she smiles at me. It is her, then. Her hair is longer and darker than I remember, but it’s her. “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I tell him. He gapes at me like I’m fucking with him. “Skylar,” she says once she’s within earshot, her full pouty lips wrapping seductively around my name. “I heard you might be here.” Sebastian shakes his head. “Lucky bastard,” he mutters under his breath. “Fallon,” I say evenly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

omeone must’ve jumped me outside the bar. Someone with a sledgehammer. My entire body hurts in a way I can’t fully comprehend. My skin hurts. Even my teeth hurt. I groan as I attempt to sit up and my rib cage screams in protest. “What the hell?” I rub my neck in an attempt to loosen the sore muscles and that’s when I see her. Fallon. Naked. In bed beside me. No. No, no, please God no. What have I done? My subconscious answers my question. Parts of it are coming back. Fallon telling me she was in town for work and contacted my mom to see what area I lived in. Her and her model friend drinking with us. Taking them to the field where Sebastian and I played one on one until we were falling down fucked up. Sebastian fucking her friend on the field. Fallon helping me back to her hotel room because I couldn’t remember where I lived. Jesus. I close my eyes to block out the sun and there’s more. Pizza, we ordered pizza that only I ate. We talked, or I talked, about Corin mostly. Fallon on her knees trying to make me feel better. Fallon on my dick trying to make us both feel something. I place my head in my hands and try to erase it all. I can’t. The longer my eyes remain closed the more her face becomes clear behind them. Corin. Regardless of what we are or aren’t, this would hurt her. Badly. Which is why, no matter what happens, she can never, ever know.

S

he day I finish my last summer semester final, I board a plane to Brazil and prepare to see Skylar in eighteen hours. It took all semester to save up enough money for the ticket, but it was worth it. I have a two-hour layover in Columbia and I plan to use that time to freshen up and figure out how I’m going to tell him what I need to. These past three months have been barely tolerable without him, made worse by the way we left things. I love him. I am in love with him. I was wrong about not being able to focus on school if we were more than friends. Whatever we label it, my feelings for him are as constant and real as my desire to get an education. He was right—what we have isn’t geographical. I was afraid and I made excuses but I’m done with that. I sleep as much as I can on both flights, but I’m practically bouncing in my seat by the time we land. Thanks to tips, I didn’t even have to put this trip on the credit card Skylar gave me. Though if I need a hotel room and can’t stay with him, I’ll need to put that on there. So much time has passed. So much could go wrong. A feeling of doubt creeps into my mind like a slow-moving fog. What if he doesn’t miss me? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? He’s been busy with the team and our texts have been short. Our conversations have been nearly non-existent due to international fees. I shake the worries off the best I can and call the car service the travel agent gave me the number to. I have about an hour until Skylar ’s first game and I need to clean up a little more and put some makeup on so I make my way to the ladies room. Once I look like a human being again, I locate the black sedan that’s waiting for me out front. On the way to the stadium, the driver talks about the team, the game, and the players that he’s familiar with. I text Skylar a good luck message even though I don’t know if he’ll get any playing time this early on. He mentioned before that he might just be training for a while before they actually put him in, which was why he never bothered to send me the official schedule. But I have faith in him and faith that the team will see how valuable an asset he is, so I found it online myself. When we arrive, the driver helps me with my overnight bag and I do my best to straighten my loose-fitting black halter top and smooth out my jeans. It’s warm here so I tie my gray wrap around my waist. It was cold on the plane so I needed it but now, not so much. I wait in line with my ticket and am in awe of how grand the stadium is. It makes the one at SoCal look like a youth league field. Skylar deserves this and I’m so happy he got the opportunity he deserved. I vow that I will never ever try and make him choose between his career and me. I trust him. It took losing him to realize it, but I do. Nervous butterflies swam in my stomach as I enter the stadium. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but coming here was not one of them.

T

We can do this. I just hope that I can hang onto the courage that got me here. After the Brazilian anthem, a few others play and the game begins. Skylar isn’t announced so he isn’t a starter. I get up several times, to get a soda, a snack, and use the ladies room, but it’s a good game and I’m glad I came. If I squint, I can make out a player warming up on the sidelines that I’m pretty positive is him. At the end, the score is 3-1 and Skylar ’s team won even though he never saw any playing time. It’s silly, but in a way I’m glad he was being honest about not playing. My snarky subconscious had hissed at me many times that he wasn’t sending me the schedule because he didn’t want to see me. Very thankful that bitch was wrong. After the players disappear off the field, I make my way down the bleachers to try and figure out where they’ll be. Security guards line all the entrances and exits and I’m starting to think maybe I should have told him I was coming. At this rate, I might not even be able to see him. “Miss—you can’t go that way. Players only,” a man in an all black uniform with a unique accent tells me. “Oh, sorry.” I turn abruptly into the crowd but he calls out after me. “You can wait in the autography area by the concessions if you would like.” Concessions. I try to remember where the concessions area was from my seat and how far I’ve gone from there. I’m tired and disoriented. My eyes scan above the sea of soccer fans for any signs. I am overwhelmed. Only a few things are in English and everyone else seems to know where to go except me. Flags are held high and waved in every direction. I narrowly miss catching one in the eye. There is a chant among the crowd, something upbeat and sacred because the home team won. I can’t help but smile. No matter where he is or who he plays for, I will always be Team Skylar. A line of young kids has formed to my right and at first, I assume it’s the restroom. But I notice they’re all holding memorabilia. Waiting for autographs. Perfect. I buy a small Brazilian flag at the stand nearby and take my place in line. A few young boys, who can’t be more than eight, smile at me. “You like football?” One of them asks me, gesturing to the worn out ball in his hands. I nod. “Very much.” He beams at me and he is adorable with his wide chocolate brown eyes and mess of matching hair above his brow. “I play here some day.” His friends laugh, but I give him a wink. “I bet you will. I have a friend who plays here and you’re probably even better than him already. What position do you play?” He curls his fingers as if about to tell me a very important secret so I lean in to listen. “All of them,” he whispers. A grin spreads across both of our faces. “Then I bet you will be very important to the team.” His friends tease him for a few minutes while they kick the ball he holds back and forth in the small space. I’m pretty sure they are calling him “Gabriel.” A loud cheer erupts and our line begins to move forward. I stand on my tiptoes to try and see. A few players I don’t recognize wearing warm up style jackets have begun signing balls and flags and programs. I wait patiently through the line, congratulating the men I don’t know and looking for the one that I do. And then I see him, leaning down to talk to a group of boys and looking different than I remember.

He cut his hair and there are no more wild boyish curls. Only short sharp spikes of dark, damp hair jutting out in all directions. He’s put on more muscle weight than I remember and he’s tan, extremely tan. Skylar was always handsome in an irresistible sort of way. But now he is a dangerous type of enticing that makes my stomach curl in on itself. He stands and laughs with his teammates as they sign autographs. Skylar found his home, just as walking toward him feels like I’ve found mine. There are still doubts lingering in my mind and plaguing my soul, voices that tell me I shouldn’t be here, that he’s moved on and won’t care to see me or have time to spend with me. But even if they’re right, at least I know I tried and I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what if. “Gabriel! Luiz! A woman’s voice shouts above the crowd. In half-English, half-Portuguese, she scolds the boys in front of me. Luiz, I realize, is a taller version of Gabriel. She was scared, I gather from her rant. Worried and didn’t know where they were. They were supposed to be in the bathroom, I think. Unfortunately I’m not exactly fluent in Portuguese. Childhood disappointments, however, I am well versed in. This will leave a mark. The boys look downtrodden as they’re forced out of line before Gabriel has gotten his ball signed. My heart breaks wide open for him. His older brother is comforting him and I’m so close to Skylar I can pick up his scent. Tears fill Gabriel’s eyes as he steps around the group of boys and ducks under the rope. For the first time I notice that his clothes don’t fit well. On the plane I read about soccer, or football as they call it here, being one of the only ways out of poverty for some kids. “No sign, mama,” I hear him say. “No one signed it.” I can fix this. Somehow. I will not be able to sleep even after nearly two days of sleep-deprivation if this little boy does not get his damn ball signed. “Skylar,” I call out over the boys in front of me. I have to call twice more before his head snaps in my direction. I point frantically at the back of Gabriel’s retreating figure and sign my name in the air. “No one signed his ball.” I push out a pouty lip and trail my finger down my face. Skylar looks confused and stunned. Thankfully the line moves forward. “Corin? What are you doing here?” Never in my life have I seen him this surprised. I can’t tell if it’s a good surprise or a bad one, but there are more important things than me right now. “That little boy waited in line forever. He wants to play here when he grows up. He plays every position, and his mom made him get out of line before anyone signed his ball.” I wave my hands in frustration. “Do something. Please.” Without further pleading, Skylar hops gracefully over the rope and stops Gabriel and his mom before they’re out of sight. I step out of line to follow, breathing a sigh of relief when I see Skylar wiping away Gabriel’s tears. When he signs his ball and then hands over his jacket, I almost have some tears of my own. Gabriel laughs, showing off his new jacket to his brother, who high-fives him. Surrounded by all of this, by the significance of it and my newfound understanding of how important something we call a game can be, I am humbled. “That was very sweet of you,” I tell Skylar as he makes his way to me. “You come all this way to make sure everyone got their ball signed?” I nod. “Yep. And my work here is done so…” I’ve only turned half way around when Skylar wraps me in his arms. “It’s good to see you, Red. So fucking good.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I whisper against his warm skin. “It’s good to see you too, soccer boy.”

“S o what’d you say to Gabriel?” Corin asks before explaining what she’s doing here. I finish off my bottle of water as we make our way to my car. “That he didn’t need to play every position because Goalie is the only one that really matters. And we run the least.” Corin laughs and I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s here. She’s really here but my mind still wonders if I’m dreaming. “So besides making friends in the autograph line, care to tell me what you’re doing in Brazil?” It’s a long ass flight for her to have come all this way. And I didn’t even play—which I told her I wouldn’t. Surely there’s a reason for her surprise trip. Not that I’m complaining, just curious as hell. “Just checking out the scenery,” she says eying me appreciatively. This is new, the way she’s looking at me like she wants to swallow me whole. I am fully on board with this. “See anything you like?” “A few things,” she says casually. “That right?” “Mmhm,” is all I get back. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, so I’ve heard. Apparently it makes Corin grow hornier. “You hungry? There’s a decent restaurant near my place.” Corin takes a deep breath. “I actually ate at the game, but maybe we could grab lunch tomorrow if you’re not busy. I was hoping I could maybe crash at your place. I didn’t exactly book a hotel room.” Grabbing lunch doesn’t sound all that intimate. My ego recoils from the hit. But at least she’s sleeping over so that has to mean something. I open the door for her and she whistles low at the sleek black Audi R8 GT. “Don’t get too excited. It’s a rental. A company that works with the team lets us rent them when we’re in town. We’re on the road too much to need a car year-round. But it’s a nice perk.” “I’ll say,” she says, lowering her delectable body onto the lush leather seat. “Any other perks I should know about?” I climb into the driver ’s side and start the engine. “I’m serious. Perks? Any others besides cool cars?” Her raised eyebrows indicate she expects an answer. “A few. Why?” Corin bites the inside of her cheek for a split second. “So are you or are you not surrounded by Brazilian models all hours of the night and day?” I let out a low laugh. Jealous Corin is extremely sexy. “Well I have practice. And workouts. And media events. And games. So not all hours.” She slugs me hard in the arm. “I’m serious, Sky. I came here to see you and so we could talk about

things. But if you’re seeing someone or just loving the bachelor pro-athlete life, then that’s cool. You’re young and attractive and I’m sure you have plenty of options in that department.” “Corin…” I focus on my breathing because damn this woman to hell. “I have told you repeatedly in no uncertain terms how I feel about you. Despite your constant rebuffing of my attempts, I meant what I said. My feelings for you aren’t geographical.” “And yet, my money says you haven’t been over here pining for me like a Priest.” I swallow hard and try to figure out the best way to be honest without ruining whatever the hell this is. “No, I haven’t. When I left, it seemed like whatever we were moving towards was done. So yeah, I went out. I lived my life—pretty much the same way I lived it before I met you. But honestly, work takes up a lot of my time. And I mean a lot. As in, most of my free time is spent sleeping, eating, or taking a quick shower. Alone.” Corin is silent. I touch her knee gently. “If there’s something you want to ask me, you should just ask. I won’t lie to you.” There is only one thing I won’t tell her voluntarily. But if she asks, I will be honest. It will kill me and it will probably ruin any chance I have of ever having something real with my guarded girl, but I won’t lie to her if I can help it. “Did you miss me?” she asks softly into the darkness. There is so much vulnerability evident in her tone I want to pull the car over and show her just how much I missed her. “Like crazy. But I know my career is demanding and you wanted to focus on school. You weren’t wrong—the things you said when I left. I don’t want to be a distraction. I don’t want to hurt you in any way, Corin.” God, I mean that to the depths of my soul. “I was wrong. About a few things,” she tells me. “Important things.” Corin admitting she was wrong is such a novel occurrence; I’m practically speechless until we arrive at the group of condos where most of the guys on the team live. “Can you repeat that once more? A little louder, so I can be sure I heard you correctly.” “Shut up,” she admonishes me teasingly. “I never said I was perfect. I make mistakes too, you know.” A small voice in the back of my mind alerts me that this might be a good time to tell her about some mistakes I’ve made. But the mood between us is bordering on magical and combustible. It feels like the wrong move, the wrong words, a wrong breath, might destroy it. “Home sweet home,” I say, changing the subject as we enter the modern yet modestly decorated condo. “I’m not here a lot but it came furnished so it’s comfortable enough.” “I like it,” Corin states matter-of-factly. “Cozy but not cramped. It’s bigger than it looks from outside.” A white leather sectional sits in the middle of the room across from the giant flat screen. I set Corin’s bag down beside it and offer her something to drink before grabbing a beer. “Water is fine.” I wish I had something stronger, something to take the edge off from this unexpected blessing that still feels like a figment of my imagination. “So you were saying…something about you being wrong?” Corin smirks at me. “You really love that, don’t you?” I nod. “I do. I really do.” “There’s a first time for everything you know,” she says while opening her water. She leans on the counter, watching me from a distance. I lower myself onto the edge of the couch and wait.

“I haven’t had a ton of sleep in the past few days so this might not be the most articulate conversation. It’s been a long few days but I needed to see you because…” I lower my beer and place it on the glass end table. “Because…” Corin seems to consider her next move carefully. She places her water on the counter and takes a few steps closer. “Because I was stupid before. When you left. I was stupid and hurt about the Fallon thing the night of the auction and I put my walls back up. I didn’t want you to go but I understand now why you had to. This is huge—what you have here, your career. Your future.” I don’t know which part to address first. “First of all, you aren’t now nor have you ever been stupid.” She sighs. “Trust me, I have been. I thought intimacy was what put me in the position to get hurt. But even without us sleeping together, being without you, leaving things the way we did, it hurts.” The admission takes a lot out of her and she sits, remaining several feet from me on the couch, which is probably a good thing because I’m aching to touch her. “I never wanted to hurt you.” She nods. “I know. But when you love someone, that’s the tradeoff. They get the power to hurt you.” She loves me? I feel like someone just smacked me in the face with a sack full of bricks. Corin loves me? Is that why she’s here? I swallow the words threatening to erupt out of my throat. “I guess I didn’t realize that you felt that —” “It’s fine,” Corin cuts me off and puts her hands up. “I know you don’t feel like that about me and honestly, I didn’t realize how I actually felt until the moment you walked away from me at the airport.” “Lower the walls, Red. Put your armor away for five fucking seconds. I never said I didn’t feel that way.” Corin sinks her teeth into her lush lower lip before speaking again. “That’s not how our goodbye should’ve gone. Not the night before and not that morning.” “Oh yeah?” I move closer to her on the couch. “And how should it have gone, sweetheart?” I have a feeling she didn’t come all this way for a goodbye re-do. At least I sure as hell hope she didn’t. Corin’s tongue sneaks out to moisten her lips briefly. I want to taste her so bad I can hardly keep still. “For starters, I should’ve been honest with you about how I felt. I should’ve accepted the damn card and told you that I’d come see you every chance I got.” I open my mouth to respond, but she isn’t finished. “I should’ve told you that I was afraid of getting hurt, of getting distracted and veering off course, but that I’ve decided I’d rather risk it than live the rest of my life regretting not going for what I wanted.” I haven’t been breathing the entire time she’s been talking. I rectify that and move a few inches closer to her. “And what is it that you want? Just so I’m clear.” “You, Skylar. I want you.”

y heart is pounding so loud I can barely hear Skylar ’s response to my declaration. “I want you too, Red. Always have,” he mumbles before his mouth crashes into mine. It’s like we’re two caged animals who’ve been waiting for a chance to pounce on the other and we’ve finally been set free. His grip on my waist is firm enough to dent my flesh but not enough to hurt. His attack on my mouth is launched so suddenly it startles a gasp from my throat. There’s a deliberate gentleness at first, as if he’s familiarizing himself with my tongue and my lips, but once I wrap my arms around him, digging my fingers into his hair and deepening the kiss, there’s nothing exploratory about it anymore. Just want and need and insatiable hunger. His tongue thrusts into my mouth in a deep, languid stroke and I recognize it from the way he licked my pussy on my kitchen table in New York. I want him like that again, worshipping my body the way he did and I tell him so. It’s what’s fueled my fantasies all summer long. “Tell me everything you want, sweetheart. It’s yours.” “You, Skylar. All of you. Every way I can have you.” I was exhausted before but now my heart is pounding like a runaway hummingbird in my chest pulsing adrenaline through my veins at warp speed. I climb on top, straddling him in our never-ending battle for control. His erection grinds into me. “Feel that hard cock,” he growls against my ear. “He wants me to rush this, but I won’t. I’m going to savor every fucking inch of you, sweetheart.” He thrusts upward against my most sensitive part, pressing the seam of my jeans against my clit and making me moan. A lightning bolt of pleasure electrifies my entire spine. “I need…” I can’t even speak due to my animalistic panting. “Skin,” I finally get out. “Yes ma’am. Skin I can do.” He complies by removing my shirt then his. “These are so goddamn perfect I fucking dream about them.” He lifts my breasts from my black bra cup and palms them before sucking each nipple into his mouth. I moan, arching my back and leaning back to give him better access. I can’t get close enough, can’t get enough contact to relieve the pulsating need between my thighs. I unhook my bra and fling it across the room. I thought sleeping with him would feel like giving in, like I’d succumbed to being a foregone conclusion. But it doesn’t feel like that at all. I’d been with so many before. None of it mattered. None of it felt like this, like him. Like home He buries his face in my neck and devours it with open-mouthed kisses that send shivers tingling over my entire body. I pull my hips back, then slide down over his still sheathed erection slowly. “Are you teasing me, sexy girl?”

M

I bite his bottom lip gently. “Not teasing,” I breathe against his mouth. “Needing.” Skylar stands abruptly, lifting me and carrying me down a hallway to his bedroom without breaking contact between our mouths. We’re almost to the bed when he presses my back to the wall and lowers my feet gently to the ground. “Pants,” he mumbles against my lips. “Off. Now.” I obey his command, leaving myself completely exposed with the exception of black lace panties I wore for him. I can see our reflection in a full-length mirror behind him. His back muscles battle for position while he removes his own pants. Skylar drops to his knees and I’m torn between watching him and watching the reflection of him going down on me in the mirror. “You like to watch, dirty girl?” I glance down and smile sheepishly. He caught me. “I like to watch you.” His hand snakes up curls around the cotton center of my panties before he pulls them down my legs. His masculine fingers wrench my legs further apart and he kisses me gently at the apex of my thighs. Us together, the reflection of it is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Not dirty or demeaning like the sex I’ve known before. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful and he makes me feel clean again, cleansed of the soul-staining bruises from my past, because he knows about each and every one of them and yet he only sees me, the me I feel like I’ve finally become. His tongue strokes my clit and my head falls back until it thumps the wall. I’m trembling above his expert mouth as he works me into a frenzy with each touch. I bite my lip to keep from screaming out, but when he thrusts two fingers inside of me, I can’t hold it in anymore. “Let go, baby. Let go and give it to me.” I’m writhing on his face, something I would’ve never imagined I could handle. His teeth scrape my sensitive flesh and suddenly he stands and lifts me once more. A few steps and I’m lowered on to his bed. “Get in the middle. Spread your legs for me, Corin. I want to see every inch.” I scramble quickly to the middle. “This,” he says, nodding at me while removing his pants and boxer briefs, “this is what I’ve dreamt of pretty much every moment since we met.” His eyes are glinting with desire while he strokes himself. I can’t tear my gaze away from the erotic Adonis before me. “If at any time you want to stop, promise you’ll tell me.” I nod. “I don’t want to stop. I want you. I want this.” “You’re shaking, sweetheart.” Skylar clasps my hands with his as he lowers himself on top of me. He places gentle kisses on every centimeter of my skin within his reach. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” “I know. I trust you.” Something that looks like pain flickers across his face but it’s gone quickly. “Shit. Condom,” he bites out before leaning over and removing one from his nightstand. I wait as patiently as I can while he tears the foil and sheaths his rigid length. His mouth lowers to my breasts once more, flicking and teasing each nipple before sucking them hard into his warm welcoming mouth. I groan, lifting my hips in desperate need for contact. My nonverbal plea works. “Wait. I need to tell you something first.” I gape at him. Is he serious right now? “Corin Connelly, I didn’t meet you in time to be your first.” He caresses my body with his free hand. “But I am damn sure going to be your last.”

I lift my neck up and kiss him as deeply as I can. There aren’t words for how his declaration makes me feel. Inch by slow torturous inch, Skylar sinks himself into me. My body clenches around him in panic before I adjust to the intrusion. He fills and stretches me until I’m wet enough that he can glide smoothly in and out. I jerk my head forward until our mouths meet again. Our tongues mimic the motion of our sex, his tongue plunging inside of me in time with his cock, me matching him stroke for stroke. We’re still kissing when I start to come. I grip his back hard, digging my fingers in for traction as I race frantically toward an explosive finish. He bites down on my lower lip and I convulse all around him from the inside out. Skylar is close enough to his own release that I feel the tip of him jerking inside my walls as I’m coming down. His hands take each of my legs and push them upward until he is buried so deep inside me I can barely breathe. “Fucking hell, you are so damn perfect. Fucking perfection,” he cries out as he pours himself into me. His hands stroke my legs from thigh to ankle once he’s completely drained. His lips graze the tips of my toes and down the soles of my feet. It tickles and I smile at him. “Totally worth the eighteen hour flight,” I tell him. “Best goodbye ever.” Skylar ’s answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and I’m hoping he’s just tired. I wink to let him know I’m joking about the goodbye part. “I’m glad, Red. It would kill me to disappoint you.” “Not even possible,” I tell him, sitting up for once more kiss.

he next morning Corin gets me off with her mouth in my shower. I have my favorite meal for breakfast. Her. We order in for lunch and end up sixty-nining before we’ve even finished eating. By the time dinner rolls around, we have fucked, sucked, and drained every inch of pleasure from one another. “I feel bad you came all this way and you haven’t even seen much of Rio.” Corin collapses on my chest. “I didn’t come here to see Rio, Sky. I think you know that.” “Thank God for that.” I twirl a strand of her hair through my fingers. “I am taking you out to dinner though, dammit. I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.” She sighs, heaving her bare breasts against me. “Me too. But I can come back on fall break. Then you’ll be home for Christmas. There’s always FaceTime and phone sex. We’ll manage.” I chuckle lightly. “Guess I should think God for modern technology while I’m at it.” Corin leans up to look me in the eye. “Would you believe I even miss playing Mortal Combat with you?” I nod, taking one of her hands and kissing it gently. “I told you you’d miss me. Probably should’ve placed another bet on it.” She shakes her head. “No more bets, Sky.” “One more,” I say, sliding her slender fingers between mine. “I bet we don’t make it until fall break. One of us will end up on a plane. Because I can tell you right now, I can’t wait two more months for more of you.” Corin’s answering smile makes my heart thud harder in my chest. “So we wager on which of us breaks first?” “Me, Red. It will be me.” I have a long weekend next month. I’m going to surprise her right back. Every other month or so is going to be hard, but I know from experience, nothing would be harder than trying to live without her. I’ve never been particularly religious, but there is one thing I pray for. That I never have to again.

T

“Last night was seriously amazing,” Corin tells me at the airport. Despite the fact that it’s barely six a.m. local time, her eyes are bright and gleaming. “You’re welcome,” I say, gently squeezing her ass. She laughs and shakes her head. “Well that was amazing too, soccer boy. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

The night before I’d taken her to a colorful restaurant on the water where she gorged herself on every local dish we could order. We met up with a few guys from the team and went dancing. Most had girlfriends or wives that they brought along. Corin was electric. Lit up by the natural glow of the exotic atmosphere and basking in the after effects of the orgasm I’d given her on the way to the club, she was the most beautiful I’d ever seen her. I was enjoying myself, happy to watch her enjoying herself, until Sebastian nodded to where she was dancing with some of the other girls. “Guess it didn’t work out with the model, huh? Beautiful women just come out of the woodwork for you or what?” My inner Landen O’Brien emerged and I nearly hulked out on the poor guy. “Don’t ever mention that night again, Stevens. I’m serious as fuck.” He’d looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Dude, I was shitfaced. I barely remember that night. I’m just jealous that smoking hot women seem to swoon at your feet everywhere we go. If you’re looking for a wingman, I volunteer as tribute. That’s all I’m saying.” He’d ambled off without another word but my mood darkened. That night. Damn that night. Damn my inability to see beyond the short term. My entire life I watched my mom try to drink away a mistake she’d made when she was too young to know better. She grew up with nothing, but she was beautiful, so when my dad decided to add her to his collection of pretty things, she ended up married at nineteen. Pregnant with Katie at twenty, and then me two years later. And now? She’s stuck with a cold heartless businessman with plenty of money and no ability to show emotion for anything that doesn’t contribute to his bank account balance. I swore I would never allow myself to make a choice that would ruin everything I’ve worked for. For all my fucking around in high school, I never did anything that would’ve warranted more than a misdemeanor or that would’ve hurt my chances to get a soccer scholarship. But that night, that one night with Fallon, hangs over me like a death sentence. After Sebastian had brought up she who shall not be mentioned, Corin had spun into me and pulled me onto the dance floor, forcing me to forget everything but the feel of her in my arms for the rest of the evening. But now, as we stand at the security entrance where I have to let her go, I vow I will never let that night touch her. I won’t let a damn thing take that shine from her eyes. “I loved this weekend. I was nervous, coming here. But I’m so glad I did.” Corin sucks her cheek in the way she does when she’s trying not to bite her lip. “I’m glad you loved it.” I kiss her gently on the lips. “And I almost forgot.” I remove a small box from my back pocket. “If that’s a credit card, Skylar Martin, I swear I’ll—” “It’s not,” I interrupt with a laugh. “It’s something to say what I haven’t get gotten to.” “Which is?” Corin opens the box and her mouth drops open. “When did you have time to get this?” “Recently,” is all I tell her. The truth was I’d gotten it before I left and I’d planned to give it to her on my last night in California before the evening had gone to hell in a hand basket. The silver and diamond encrusted bracelet has one stone hanging delicately from its braided band. The crimson jewel is almost identical to the color of her hair. On the inside is a small inscription. I love you, Red. Her eyes shine with the promise of tears. “I love you too, soccer boy. So much.” She lifts on her tiptoes but I do her one better and lift her off the ground. We kiss until the world around us disappears. “I’m glad you came,” I mumble against her lips. “Boy did I,” she teases, using my own little innuendo game against me.

“And you will again soon. Promise.” I kiss her once more before setting her down. “Call me when you land in LA.” “Yes sir,” she says with a mock salute. One more feverish kiss and she’s gone, blending into the throng of travelers and leaving me to stare after her. On my way to my car, I text her one more time to remind her to be safe and to call me when she lands. She messages back that she will followed by an emoji that looks like a set of red kissy lips. I’m about to make a dirty comment about the set of lips I’d rather see when a message from an unknown number appears. It’s a number that’s called half a dozen times at odd hours in the past few weeks. Need to talk to you. It’s important. Call me. I frown at my phone as I message back. Who is this? Whoever it is doesn’t respond so I get in my car. I’m halfway home when the response comes through. Fallon. Fuck. I don’t remember giving her my new number, but there’s a lot I don’t remember about the last time I saw her. And there are plenty of other ways she could’ve gotten it. I sit in my driveway contemplating my options for a good long while. I could message her back. Fall back into the spiral of Fallon-related drama that she obviously wants to include me for some crazy ass reason. Risk hurting Corin again like I did the weekend of the auction. Or I can do what I should’ve done a long time ago. Before I go inside, into my condo that is filled only with memories of Corin, I do what I should’ve done in high school. I block Fallon Kensington from my phone. And hopefully out of my life. For good.

3 years later

“I got in,” Corin practically squeals into the phone. “When can you come back to town so we can celebrate?” “Congratulations, sweetheart. I should be able to get back in a few weeks.” The past three years have been a roller coaster of ups and downs, of flights from California to Brazil, then when I got traded, flights from California to Vancouver. Corin and I have been there for each other in ways I’d never imagined. Her successes are mine and vice versa. Just as her pain is my pain. Her battles are my battles. Last season I was the least scored on goalie in the league. And then I got traded, something I wasn’t expecting or necessarily even wanting. But the flights are definitely shorter. Landen and Layla had a rough patch and O’Brien had to go to angry dude rehab to get his shit together, which he did just in time for Layla to give birth to their healthy baby girl. We visit them as often as possible—Corin more often than me because she’s still in California, where she just learned she was accepted into law school at UC Berkeley. “I applied for an internship to help with tuition and was approved.” Her good news makes me smile and I can hardly wait to see my happy girl in person. She’s worked so hard. She deserves this more than anyone I know. “But I start at Weiseck Settlers and Zetterman in a few weeks so let’s try to nail down a date to celebrate as soon as we can, okay?” “Yes ma’am,” I answer. “Miss you,” she says softly in to the phone. It’s been two months since we’ve seen one another, which is about the average amount of time we go between visits. “Miss you too, Red,” I say before we hang up. Long distance hasn’t been easy, but for the most part, we’ve been lucky. Our schedules haven’t exactly been flexible, but we’ve made it work. I got some national recognition recently and magazine coverage in a few publications wasn’t exactly flattering. I was shown as a fuckboy about town basically, which sucked and I know sucked for Corin to see. But she knows better and we didn’t let rumors break us. My mom finally came with Katie to a few of my games and she’s gotten help for her drinking— something I never thought would happen. I didn’t realize how much I needed my family until I experienced what having them in my life was actually like. My dad is still a money-hungry asshole, but I never expected otherwise so it doesn’t affect me much. Corin still doesn’t talk to her mom very often, but when she does it’s civil so that’s something. For the most part, I’m her family and she’s mine. We spend holidays, birthdays, and most special occasions together, sometimes with my family or my team or Layla and Landen, and sometimes just

the two of us, but always together. I text Katie about throwing Corin a small party of some sort to celebrate her getting into law school but her response is confusing. Call me, little brother. ASAP. Katie can be kind of a drama queen, but she and Corin get along well so I’m surprised she isn’t more enthusiastic about the good news. Weird, but I don’t stress it. I text Layla and Landen to let them know I’m planning to put something together for Corin and they both text back that they’ll be there and to keep them informed on arrangements. One thing I’ve learned about friends with kids is they need lots of advance notice for things. I debate for a while on contacting Corin’s mom and decide against it. If Corin mentions calling to tell her about law school then I’ll invite her. If not, I’ll stay out of it. The team has a charity game to raise money for the Children’s Miracle Network and I’m heading in the arena to warm up when my phone buzzes with a text notification just before ringing. My mom is calling and Katie just texted again to call her, this time with a 911 after it. Whatever it is, it must be important. “Hey, mom,” I answer just before it goes to voicemail. “Everything okay?” A plethora of fucked up scenarios flit through my brain. My dad could be sick, could’ve had a heart attack, or been in an accident. Those are the only conclusions I can come to that would have both mom and Katie all worked up at the same time. “Skylar,” my mom begins softly in a tone I’m not accustomed to hearing from her. “I think you need to come home. Immediately.” Shit. That can’t be good. “Is dad okay?” My mom sighs. “Your dad is fine. It’s…someone else.” Her voice is grave and low and it almost sounds like she’s been crying. “Okay. Then I give. Katie’s blowing me up with texts as we speak and you sound like someone ran over the family dog.” We don’t have a family dog, but if we did, I imagine this is how she would sound if it got ran over. “Who died?” I’m not being serious about the last part, but the silence on the other end of the line tells me someone actually did. “Did someone die?” It feels like an eternity passes before she answers. “Yes, Skylar. Someone died. Please get the earliest flight home so you can be here with family when—” “Who the hell died, mom?” I hear the audible intake of breath over the phone line. “Fallon Kensington. She overdosed in a hotel room in Milan. Her family just found out.” “Jesus.” I close my eyes and Fallon appears behind them. She wasn’t a bad person, just a mess. The kind of mess that spread to everyone around her. She’d tried to contact me years ago and I’d never responded. I tell myself it wouldn’t have mattered. She probably wasn’t reaching out for help and even if she were, I’d tried many times in the past to help her. I was never enough—my attempts were never adequate enough to do any good. Fallon always chose the drugs, the party, the fun, over anything I had to offer. “When’s the funeral? I’d like to go see her family to pay my respects. I’ll try to get the first flight out.” A few of my teammates step into the locker room and gesture for me to come on. I cover the phone and tell them I’ll be right there. “Monday, but Skylar, I need you to listen to me.” My mom’s voice is still filled with sadness but

there’s a warning edge to it now that wasn’t there before. “I’m listening.” “You can’t go see her parents, Skylar. Not right now. Fallon’s family doesn’t want to see you.” What the hell? “Since when? What did I do?” Fallon and I might’ve had an ugly break up after high school, but that was years ago. Mr and Mrs Kensington have always been nice to me, even since then. I understand if they’re grieving and want to be alone, but the way my mom put it makes it sound like there’s a reason they don’t want to see me personally. “I’d rather talk about it when you come home, okay? Just don’t go over there. Come straight home when you land and we’ll talk.” The only thing worse than getting a “we need to talk” from your girlfriend is getting one from your mom. It takes two days for me to be able to clear my time with my coaches to attend Fallon’s funeral. Corin is waiting for me at the airport when I land. I wrap her in my arms, realizing just how badly I needed to see her. “I’m sorry about Fallon,” she says softly. “No one deserves to die like that.” I try not to picture Fallon alone in some hotel bathroom but the image comes anyway. “I only have three days of bereavement leave before I have to be back but I’d like to find out what’s up with her family. My mom is adamant about me not contacting them and even mentioned me only going to the viewing and not the funeral. Which is just strange.” Corin frowns as we walk to her car. “That is strange. I mean, you and Fallon weren’t on bad terms or anything were you? Had you even seen her since the auction?” I attempt a shrug but there is this sense of doom that overwhelms me, like a storm cloud just positioned itself directly overhead and is threatening to destroy my entire world any second. “I did see her,” I tell Corin. “Once. In Brazil. She had a shoot there shortly after I signed with United.” A miniscule amount of pressure lifts from my chest. Fallon is dead and I won’t dishonor her memory by lying, even if the truth might do some serious damage to the only relationship that matters to me. “Oh,” Corin says softly. “But things were okay? You didn’t have a fight or anything?” I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that.” The drive to my parents’ house is quiet. The mood between us hangs in a delicate balance that depends heavily upon my ability to keep my mouth shut and Corin’s willingness to not press for more information on the night I last saw Fallon. Corin’s a smart girl though, and I can see her working it out in her head as the California landscape blurs by. When we pull into my driveway, Corin starts to get out of the car without looking at me. My hand encircles her wrist gently. “Hey.” I nod toward the house. “Whatever happens in there, whatever we find out about Fallon and why her family hates me, you and I still have each other ’s backs, right?” She meets my gaze and nods. Her eyes are full of conflicted emotions. “Always, Sky. You know that.” “I love you,” I tell her, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m glad you’re here. And congratulations again about law school. I’m sorry if I haven’t said it enough, but I am so damn proud of you.”

She returns my kiss but there is no enthusiasm behind it. “Love you too,” she whispers. As we make our way in the house, I reach for her hand and she lets me hold it. She said she loves me too and I believe her. I just can’t figure out why it sounded like she was saying goodbye.

y entire life I’ve been able to tell when something bad was coming. Or maybe I had ulcers and a constant sense of something foreboding because of my mom’s occupation. Either way, it’s been a while since I’ve felt like the ground was about to be ripped out from beneath me. I feel it now, though, as Skylar and I walk hand in hand into his family’s sprawling mansion. Fallon Kensington is dead. I didn’t know her well, having just met her once, but from what Skylar told me years ago, I wasn’t exactly her biggest fan. Between that and the jealousy, I’m plagued by a strange type of guilt regarding all things Fallon. Why would someone so beautiful and successful need drugs to be happy? It’s not a question I can answer not having known her. Skylar said there were some things in her childhood that she struggled to come to terms with and that I can relate to. We step into the foyer and a woman I’ve never met hugs Skylar tightly. She’s an attractive blonde Skylar introduces as his mom’s assistant Dee. We nod in greeting and are led into the dining area where Katie and Mrs. Martin are seated. Several bottles of red wine adorn the table. Odd, since I thought Skylar ’s mom quit drinking, but apparently grief is like an alcoholic cheat day. Skylar ’s mom makes a strangled sound at the sight of him before launching herself into his arm. His wide eyes meet mine. Neither of his parents are particularly affectionate so this is new. Katie gives me a hug and congratulates me on law school. I thank her and tell her I’m sorry to hear about Fallon. At which point, her face twists in to a mask that I can only describe as half sadness half anger. “Come, sit,” Skylar ’s mom tell us. We follow, but she looks at me strangely before turning to her son. “Skylar, you might want to ask Corin to give us a few minutes. This is sort of a private matter and—” “And she’s as much my family as anyone sitting here,” he tells her blatantly. Oh, awesome. Nothing like being awkwardly uninvited to a conversation to make an already uncomfortable situation worse. I twitch in my seat. “I could go—” “You’re fine,” Skylar says to me before turning to his mom. “Corin knows about Fallon’s issues, about how she died. She’s not going to go blab to the local papers.” His mom levels him with a stare that would melt me where I sit. “Very well, then.” She starts to open an envelope with trembling hands. But Katie stops her. “Mom, how about you let me tell him?” She smiles kindly at her mom and then at both of us. My head is spinning. Mrs. Martin nods and retrieves her half empty glass of wine. Katie smiles warmly at both of us before she begins. “Sky, remember when we were kids and we climbed the neighbor ’s fence to swim in their pool?”

M

Skylar ’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Yeah, I guess. But I don’t see what that has to do with—” “And you fell in the deep end,” she continues. “And you wouldn’t yell for help because you didn’t want to get us in trouble?” Skylar nods. “You screamed bloody murder, though, until Mr. Walker came and pulled my little ass out.” Katie lets out a small laugh. “You were four years old. I remember thinking you were going to drown and it was going to be all my fault.” Skylar sighs, clearly ready for her to get to the point. “But I didn’t.” “No, you didn’t,” she agrees. “But I always felt guilty about goading you into climbing that fence. And I feel that same type of guilt for introducing you to Fallon when we were teenagers. I thought… well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. But watching you try to help her with her addictions and demons was like watching you drown all over again. Only this time I couldn’t yell for help. All I could do was hope she didn’t drag you down with her. While I’m sorry that she’s gone, I can’t say I’m sorry you distanced yourself from her.” I hadn’t known Katie had introduced them. A lump forms in my throat from the realization that Katie is hurting as much if not more than Skylar is. Skylar nods. “I understand. But I’m a big boy and I made my choices. I can live with them and no one else is to blame. So is anyone going to tell me why I’m persona non grata at her funeral?” Katie takes the envelope her mother was holding with shaky hands just moments ago. “Did you know Fallon had a son? Christian?” Skylar ’s head jerks back in a way that clearly indicates he didn’t. “No. Since when?” “Since three years ago,” Katie says evenly. “He just turned three in March. He lives with her parents. She went into rehab to cover the pregnancy and so she could stay clean while carrying him. They kept it quiet so as not to damage her career.” Skylar ’s body is rigid beside mine. Except for the movement of the thick knot in his throat when he swallows, he is completely still. “Christian Andrew Kensington,” Katie says softly as she pulls a photo and a letter from the envelope. I glance down and am met by the smiling face of an adorable little cherub. His curly dark hair and hazel eyes are familiar. Because they belong to the man sitting beside me. I haven’t touched the wine but the room is spinning and I feel like I might be sick. I can’t look at Skylar. Or his mom. Or Katie. I can’t look anywhere. I close my eyes and feel a tear escape one of them. I knew when he said he’d seen her once in Brazil that there was more to it. Apparently a lot more. But I thought I could let it go. It was years ago. This…this is a child. A permanent reminder of what must’ve happened between them. My hand goes numb and I realize Skylar is squeezing it hard enough to hurt. “Skylar,” I whisper, disentangling my fingers from his. “Breathe.” His jaw ripples with tension. “So this is my son?” He stumbles over the words, pointing to the picture without really looking at it. His pain washes over me and I’m torn between wanting to absorb some of it for him and wanting to run far and fast from the entire ordeal to alleviate my own. “According to the letter,” Katie answers. “It arrived the day after we heard she’d passed. It was addressed to me but the letter was for you. I guess she didn’t know how else to reach you. I’m sorry I read it, but with the picture, I couldn’t stop myself. Does the timing make sense? Of the pregnancy I mean?”

Skylar nods almost imperceptibly. “You should probably read it, Sky,” I say softly. “Might help.” He turns to me and I can see that he’s broken. At a loss for answers or explanations, he looks helpless and I understand why Katie made the comparison to him drowning. I force a smile even though it feels like the slightest breeze would shatter me into a million pieces. “We can talk about the rest later, but he’s a child, Sky. And he’s alive in the world, and you deserve to know the truth.” “So do you,” he chokes out. “God, Corin, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to—” “Read the letter, Skylar. Then we can talk.” He nods and turns his attention to the piece of paper covered in cursive blue ink. It’s written on hotel stationary—I’m guessing the hotel where she died. Fallon Kensington clearly knew how to make an entrance and an exit. While Skylar reads in silence, Katie pins me with a smile and eyes full of sympathy. His mom pours another glass of wine and I’m tempted to join her. Time slows to a crawl as we wait for Skylar to finish but it’s two pages front and back. He flips the last one over and sighs as if he’s just been handed the weight of the world. The room is so quiet I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. “She says he is my son. And she was scared and didn’t know what to do so her mom and dad were given full custody. But she doesn’t want them to raise him—mostly because of the way they raised her. She says they think this is their second chance to fix the ways they wronged her but she doesn’t trust them.” “Who does she want to raise him?” It’s a dumb question and I know the answer before the words are out of my mouth. His mom chimes in for the first time. “We can help,” she says softly, reaching out to touch his hand. Katie nods in agreement. “Me,” Skylar says, dropping the final bomb my body can withstand. “She wants me to fight them. She wants me to have full custody of my son.”

re-read Fallon’s final words a dozen times, hearing them in my head in her voice. And I stare at the picture of my son. My son. It still doesn’t seem real and maybe it won’t until I see him for myself. Which I have to figure out how to do and soon. Fallon was very clear in her letter that her parents have no intention of giving him up and that they were never going to even tell me about him. Corin and I haven’t had a second alone since we got here. She read the letter and started giving orders to my mom and sister about scheduling a paternity test and calling our family lawyer as well as finding out who the Kensingtons will get to represent them and an original copy of the birth certificate and custody agreement. Even my dad made an appearance and called our attorney to set up a meeting tomorrow as Corin instructed. In my nearly twenty-four years I’ve never seen my dad take orders from anyone. My girl is going to kick major ass in law school. God I hope she’s still my girl. But I know her and I know what she’s doing. She’s keeping busy on the frontlines to avoid the heartbreak she’s battling below the surface. Somewhere around two a.m. we decide to call it a night and make our way to my bedroom. Physically, emotionally, and mentally spent, I struggle to find the right words once we’re alone. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as we both change into pajamas. The sight of her bare skin still turns me on but even my dick is exhausted from the day’s events. “I can’t change what’s happened, but I owe you an explanation,” I say once she sits on the bed. “We don’t have to do this tonight,” she tells me. “We do. And we should. I should’ve told you about that night a long time ago.” “But you didn’t.” There’s no judgment in her tone, just a statement of fact and an unspoken question. Why didn’t you? “I wanted to.” I shake my head. “No, that’s a lie. I wanted to pretend it never happened.” I take a deep breath and gather the truth in the best order that I can arrange it. “When I left for Brazil, I thought you were done with me. You’d chosen to focus on school and I understood that. It hurt like hell, but honestly, I wouldn’t have bet on me either so I got it.” “Sky, it wasn’t because I didn’t have faith in you. I was—” “It’s okay. Honestly. Like I said, we were young, we hadn’t exactly even figured out what we were and I was leaving the country.” Corin nods so I continue. “I tried to return to my former self. The guy who didn’t get his heart broken because he kept it light. The guy you met for the first time at SoCal.” “I’m guessing you didn’t attempt this return to your former self alone?” “There were a few girls. A stewardess I hooked up with on the flight over. Not sex, just fooling

I

around. But still…it felt wrong. I threw myself into playing, into proving myself on the field. Casually hung out with a few of the girls that did promo type stuff for the team but never really got to know anyone. And then I ran into Fallon in a bar. She’d sought me out intentionally because she had a shoot in Rio. We were drunk and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I don’t remember it well.” Corin is silent so I keep talking even though I know I should probably just shut the hell up. “I remember telling her about you, about how I felt about you and how it had ended. I was wasted and rambling and honest to God, I think she just felt sorry for me. So it was pity sex basically. The next morning we were both hung over and I left with an awkward hug and her telling me I’d be okay and get over you eventually. There was sympathy in her eyes and I remember thinking I’d hit an alltime low when Fallon was telling me to keep my chin up.” “And then I flew to Brazil.” I nod. “Thank fuck. I don’t even want to think about what life would be like if you hadn’t.” I reach out and take her hand in mine. “She called me several times a few months later. Sent weird texts out of the blue about needing to talk about something important. I thought she was just wanting money to pay her dealer, honestly. I didn’t want to get caught up in that and risk hurting you or my career. I never imagined…” I shake my head and stare at the ceiling. “She was pregnant. She needed me. I blocked her, Corin. I fucking blocked her. Meaning I essentially blocked my son and now I have no clue what I’m supposed to do to fix it.” Corin doesn’t say anything right away. She pulls me down to lie beside her and stares into my eyes. There are tears liquefying the emeralds staring back at me. “You can’t fix it tonight. None of us can. And you need some rest.” “But—” “We can figure it out tomorrow. How to forgive yourself for this and what’s best for Christian.” Right now I’m just so damn grateful she said “we.” She could walk away from me, from this mess I’m in and I wouldn’t blame her. She has law school to focus on and she deserves a fighting chance without this weighing her down. She didn’t do anything wrong and shouldn’t have to pay for my…I can’t think of my son as a mistake. I won’t. I grew up feeling like I was unwanted and I won’t do that to him. “I love you, Corin. And I won’t be angry if you decide you don’t want to deal with this. It’s a big ask.” Corin leans forward to kiss me lightly on the lips. “Kind of like asking a nineteen year old redblooded American boy to go without sex. Then dumping him and expecting him to remain celibate until you come to your senses.” She kisses me again and I pull her to my chest. “Love you too, Skylar. Big asks and all.” I don’t sleep that night. Not a wink. I just hold her in my arms, listening to her steading breathing and hoping like hell I get to keep her.

etting ready for Fallon’s funeral is a blur, even for me and I barely knew her. I can’t begin to imagine how Skylar is feeling. The viewing was at ten in the morning but it was the only time the Martin’s attorney could meet so we didn’t go. By the time we arrive at the grand funeral home just outside of Orange County, a paternity test has been ordered and the letter from Fallon has been entered into the system. Skylar ’s hand was steady as he signed the request for full custody of his son should the paternity test return the way we expect it to. He did flinch when the attorney explained that he basically had to sue her parents for custody and visitation rights. But he has handled the twists and turns well so far. I am proud of him. I am terrified of what this means. Not just for us, because while I know things will change, I love him and I truly believe he loves me. More so for his career. I haven’t verbalized my concerns because I’m not sure how to say “Hey, having full custody of your three-year-old son might put a damper on the pro-soccer career, Sky. Just sayin’.” When we reach the front of the line, I’m startled by the jolt I feel in my chest at seeing Fallon’s lifeless body in the pale pink lined casket. She is still strikingly beautiful, even in death. But it’s not that, it’s something else. I was pregnant and scared and alone once too. I’ve put my past behind me but I haven’t forgotten the strange mix of sheer terror and hopefulness that I felt at learning a human life was growing inside me. Emotions I’m unprepared for threaten to choke tears out of me. Which is ridiculous. I have no business crying at the funeral of a woman I barely knew. And yet…I feel a strange kinship with her. No more jealously or anger remains. Just a heartfelt empathy that she couldn’t escape the darkness that held her captive. She lost the battle with her demons and that is truly heartbreaking. I graze her cool to the touch hand as I pass and something electrifies mine. Words from her letter appear behind my eyes. Don’t let them ruin him. Please. Fight for him, Skylar. Love him and want him and be good to him. You have a good heart. I know you can be the father he deserves. They aren’t meant to be parents. They don’t know how. On the way here Skylar told me more about what made Fallon, well, Fallon. She was left to be raised by people who had no business being around children. Abused, neglected, and he suspects molested, in her formative years, while her wealthy parents traveled the country growing their business, oblivious to the horror she was living in. Deborah and Jackson Kensington are the sole remaining owners of Kensington Sails, a decades old manufacturer of sailboats and supplementary equipment for making them capable of racing and sailing long distances.

G

Skylar said Fallon tried to tell them about the things that had happened, but that they refused to tarnish the Kensington name with any negativity so they brushed her off, sent her to camps, and therapists, and private hospitals. And now they want a do-over with her son, with Skylar ’s son, and I’m guessing will do whatever it takes to keep him from his father. I think I hate them already. Fallon’s dad is nowhere to be seen but Deborah Kensington is standing at the end of the line accepting condolences and looking like a forty-something overly-Botoxed Homecoming Queen on top of a parade float. Skylar has already been cautioned by his attorney to keep his distance. He tugs me in her direction and I know he’s decided not to heed the warning he was given only hours ago. “Skylar,” I hiss-whisper. “Remember what the lawyer said about not provoking them.” “I’m not going to provoke anyone,” he says evenly. “I’m just letting them know I’m not going to be steamrolled either.” “This isn’t the time or place,” I caution him, knowing my words are falling on deaf ears. I glance to Katie and their mom for help but they’ve already been swarmed by other mourners. “I won’t make a scene. Promise,” he assures me. Once we reach Deborah, Skylar squares his shoulders beside me. Fallon’s mom looks like she’s been struck in the gut at the sight of him. “Deborah,” he says evenly. “I’m very sorry for your family’s loss.” “Thank you, Skylar,” she answers on a shaky breath. “We appreciate that.” She turns to nod at me and hurry us along but Skylar isn’t finished. “Who’s watching my son right now? While you’re here?” The bottom drops out of my stomach and from the looks of it, Deborah’s too. But she’s got more experience in schooling her features than I do and her façade is less penetrable. “I wasn’t aware you had a son,” she says, still smiling through gritted teeth. “Like hell you weren’t.” Skylar leans in closer. “I wasn’t aware that I had a son. But I am now. And I don’t want this to get ugly, but make no mistake, Deborah, he is mine and I will fight for him.” To her credit, Deborah Kensington lifts her chin and holds her head high instead of shrinking under Skylar ’s anger and intensity. He’s a good foot taller than her at least. “If you’re referring to Fallon’s son, which I assume you are, then you should know, you weren’t the only candidate that might have fathered him. Regardless, we have full custody and are fully capable of—” “Don’t you dare,” Skylar says, stopping before he raises his voice above an acceptable level. “Don’t you dare,” he begins again in a lower octave, “stand next to her fucking casket and paint her as promiscuous just because it suits your current agenda or assuages your guilt. No one is perfect and she never pretended to be. She was damaged, yeah, thanks to your piss poor parenting, which is why I’ll be here every day, every day, Deb, until I know without a doubt that my son is in the best hands possible.” Fallon’s mother returns his stare with equal tenacity. “He already is.” “I’ll see you in court,” is how Skylar leaves it before walking away. Once we’re out of earshot, I release the breath that has been held prisoner in my lungs. “Subtle, Sky. That was super subtle. Way to not make a scene. Your attorney will not be pleased.” A man waging an internal war stares back at me with a ravaged expression. “They’re not good people, Corin. They can’t raise my son. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I can’t let them have him.” The words from Fallon’s letter burn brighter behind my eyes.

“I have your back, Skylar. Always. You know that. But from now on, let’s refrain from anything they could paint as harassment or threats, okay?” He nods. “I’ll try.” “Try harder.” After the funeral, Skylar is granted extended family emergency leave from the team. We sit for hours with several attorneys that his dad employs and draft up his request for custody along with a detailed plan of how he’ll raise Christian while on the road most of the year with his job. Mr. Dodd is the head litigator overseeing Skylar ’s case, and I feel like he’s here as much as I am. “This feels strange, making plans for a child I’ve never met,” he tells me at the kitchen table after the lawyers have gone. “I feel like I fell asleep in Vancouver and woke up in someone else’s life.” I nod. “I can only imagine. But Mr. Dodd said until the paternity test comes back, you don’t technically have any rights, which includes visitation.” I rub his back in small circles. “I know this is difficult, but I can tell you from a legal standpoint, it’s vital that you go about this the right way. No storming their doorstep or confrontations that could turn heated. Just be patient.” “I’m trying,” Skylar says. “But I’ve missed so much time already. And how can I expect him to come live with me when he doesn’t even know me?” I squeeze his knee gently. “I don’t know yet. But I know you and I know you’ll figure it out.” Even the attorneys looked nervous about the fact that Skylar lives out of the country and travels so much for work. It’s not exactly an ideal situation. Mrs. Martin, who has insisted I call her Kathryn since I’m practically living in their house, has agreed to go on the road for most of the season as Skylar ’s nanny. Katie is going to pick up the slack and use her vacation time until Skylar can hire someone he trusts. Even though Christian is only three, Skylar has to have a contingency plan in place for schooling and medical care and all kinds of things that I’m pretty positive have never even crossed his mind before now. “There are guys on the team with kids,” I remind him. “I’ve seen them making it work. Maybe reach out to your teammates and see how they handle these situations.” “Those guys have kids and wives, though. And usually if the kids are traveling with us, there are moms and nannies and tutors as well.” Skylar looks dejected. “I’m a single guy as far as the court is concerned. A single guy with a career that isn’t conducive to child-rearing.” He’s been reading up on the cases similar to his and many don’t go his way. Part of me wants to say let’s get married tomorrow and I’ll go on the road with you and help raise your son. A big part. But I know myself, and I know my dreams are important too. I wouldn’t ask Skylar to give up soccer for me and I know he wouldn’t let me give up law school for him. I scribble a few words on my legal pad. “Let’s make a note to check with the team about how they can help. If they provide childcare, or any type of assistance. We probably need to contact your PR person anyway so they can spin this positively before we go to court.” Skylar ’s shoulder slump. “Is there a positive way to spin this? Because I can’t see one. ‘Pro soccer player has illegitimate child he didn’t know about with deceased model. Fights evil grandparents for custody.’” “Like I’ve said before, it’s not the fairytale, Sky. You know that. But it’s not impossible either.” He places his head in his hands before looking over at me. “It’s not fair to you. This situation is entirely my fault. And yet here you are night after night having to deal with it when you could be—”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” I tell him honestly. “Besides, I always thought fairytales were kind of boring anyways.” I nudge his shoulder with mine and realize it’s the first physical contact we’ve had in days. No wonder we’re both on edge. Time to rectify this. It’s late. I need him. He needs me. We both need more than to just sit around and stress out day after day. “It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed.” I take Skylar ’s hand and lead him up the stairs. Once we reach the bedroom, I shed the frustration and stress and worry along with each layer of my clothing until I am naked before him. “You’re like something out of dream,” he says with a voice full of reference. “I don’t deserve you.” I push him backward until he’s against the wall and remove his clothes strategically, kissing each new part of him that’s revealed to me. “No more talking. No more thinking. No more worries. Not tonight. It will all be there tomorrow.” He nods but his eyes are still clouded with concern. “Just be with me tonight, soccer boy. Me and you. No one else. Be with me. Inside me. Make it all go away for tonight.” I drop to my knees, taking Skylar ’s thick length in my hands. He’s hard already, which makes it easier to lose myself in giving him what he needs. I place gentle licks against the swollen head of him and am rewarded with the taste of his arousal. When I take him all the way to the back of my throat, he groans loudly and lets his head fall back against the wall. “A fucking dream,” he murmurs when I hollow my cheeks and suck him harder. I add my right hand to the mix, stroking the path I’m taking into my warm wet mouth. My left hand grips his inner thigh and I let my nails scrape lightly against his skin. His cock jerks in my mouth and just as I’m certain he’s about to come apart, I’m lifted abruptly off the ground and thrown roughly only the bed. He stalks toward me and there is nothing else in the world right now. Just us. Just this. What we both need so badly. I lean back and spread my legs the way he likes and his eyes glitter with approval and appreciation. I’m ready to have him inside me, but he doesn’t climb on top and thrust inside. He bends down and licks straight up the center of me. Once. Twice. Before plunging his tongue inside of me. My entire body bows off the bed as the room spins around us. “Oh my God. Right there,” I mumble through the foggy haze of ecstasy. Skylar complies, tongue fucking me until I’m whimpering. With one hand he flips me over and rakes a hand down my back before slapping me hard on the ass. I lift on all fours and spread my knees apart. “How hard can I fuck you, sweetheart? How much can you handle?” His questions are laced with desperation. “As hard as you need to, baby,” I tell him. I’m ready. Skylar has always been careful with me, considerate of my past and my fragile relationship with intimacy. But we are so far beyond that now. I’ve just never known exactly how to tell him. So I decide to show him. The bed dips beneath his weight. He goes in slow, but I thrust backward to force him in faster, harder. One hand grips my ass while the other grabs hold of my hair. Instinct takes over and soon we are one being, joined inextricably and fucking harder than I would’ve thought possible. He removes the hand from my ass and uses it stroke my clit. I come fast around his expert fingers and follows close behind me, pulling out at the last minute since we didn’t stop for a condom.

I drop onto my stomach as he searches for a towel to clean me off with. My breath heaves in and out of my lungs. I feel better. I hope he does too. But I’m too far gone into blissful oblivion to ask. Moments later, I’m all taken care of and his naked body is nestled in close beside mine. “Sleep well, sweetheart,” I hear him mumble before he drifts off beside me.

y phone rings entirely too early. I rub my eyes and extract myself reluctantly from Corin’s naked body. Dodd & Assoc. the screen of my phone says. I answer it and sit up. “Skylar, is this a bad time?” I clear my throat. “No, sir. Is everything okay?” He pauses a beat then says, “I guess that depends on what outcome you’re hoping for.” “I’m ready. Whatever the results of my paternity test are, I’m ready.” “Christian Kensington is your son,” he tells me. “It was a positive match and a solid one. One the Kensingtons won’t be able to fight. You are officially his next of kin, before them.” I already knew, for the most part, anyway. There was no denying the resemblance. But hearing it, and hearing it as one hundred percent undeniable fact is both exhilarating and terrifying. I have a son. One I’ve missed three years with already. One I don’t want to wait another second to meet. “So does this mean I can see him? Soon?” Mr. Dodd’s voice is cautious. “It does. We’ll file an emergency order to establish regular visitation parameters and request a guardian ad litem hearing to grant you custody during the trial. But listen, even if they don’t grant you temporary custody for now, that doesn’t mean you won’t get it in the actual trial.” I feel like I’m scaling up an enormous mountain and the top is nowhere in sight. “Okay,” I tell him. “Whatever we need to do, let’s do it.” “That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll file most of the documents electronically. Come by the office and sign the hard copies as soon as you can.” After I disconnect the call, I see Corin sitting up behind me. “The test was positive. He’s my son.” I watch her eyes register the news to see if there are any signs of pain or if she’s thinking of bailing. All I see is acceptance and understanding. Who is this angel and who sent her to me? “So what happens now?” I tell her what Mr. Dodd said and she tells me she’s going to grab a quick shower and then we’ll head to the office to sign the papers. If we were at her place, I’d join her, but my parents’ house has become the hub during all the chaos. Once she’s out of the room, I pick up my phone. He answers on the second ring. “It’s early, man,” he says. “For you anyways.” I laugh. “I know. You busy? Feel like going for a run?” Landen mumbles something, probably to Layla, before returning to me. “Yeah. Meet me at the park near my place in a few.” I tell Corin where I’m going, though I’m tempted to make Landen wait so I can lose myself inside

M

her one more time. She waves me on and tells me to tell him she said hi and that he’d better be behaving. I give my girl a kiss, thanking the Powers that Be once more that she is in fact my girl, and jump in the car. “You really want to run? We both know you can’t keep up with me,” is how Landen O’Brien greets me forty-minutes later when I arrive at the park. I snort at his remark. “Maybe back then. But you’re soft now. I think I could take you.” He laughs and we fall into a sort of jog along the path into the woods. “So…how are things?” I ask, unsure as to how to broach the subject I came here to discuss. “Things are good,” Landen says, tossing me a sideways glance. “How are things with you?” “I have a son,” I blurt out, because I’m about to explode and tact never was my thing. Landen nods and slows his pace. “Corin might’ve mentioned something along those lines to Layla. I would’ve called with congratulations—or condolences—since I don’t really know where you stand on the topic of offspring, but I wasn’t sure if it had been confirmed yet or not. Layla said something about a paternity test.” I stretch my arms over my head and two female joggers pass us. Once upon time, I would’ve made a comment to my buddy about hitting on them, but now I barely notice that they’re female. “It was confirmed this morning,” I tell him. “And I don’t know where I stand on the topic either. I guess that’s why I was hoping you could shed some light on the whole parenting thing for me.” A broad grin stretches across Landen’s face. “You know what we went through when Hope was born. That was some terrifying shit, to be honest. But from the minute I first saw her and every day since it’s like…” He shakes his head but I need dude to articulate here because I have no fucking clue what it’s like. “Like what exactly? Seriously. Spell it out for me please, because I have no idea what I’m doing.” Landen laughs at me and I stop walking. “Get ready to feel that way pretty much every day. Like you’re making it up as you go—because parenting is pretty much a constant improve skit where you hope like hell you’re not screwing up.” “Oh great. So I will definitely fuck it up then. Awesome.” Landen shakes his head and we resume our walk. “Naw, man. I mean, some days you will. It’s inevitable. But it’s not like you or the kid will even know. There’s no instruction manual, no right or wrong. You just do the best you can, and honestly, if you keep your head out of your ass and focus on what matters, you’ll all be fine.” “Focus on what matters, got it. So basically just try not to make my kid need therapy for the rest of his life.” The words are out before I can think. O’Brien is in therapy and has been for years. I slap a hand over my face. “Fuck, man. I didn’t mean that. There’s nothing wrong with therapy. We should probably all be in it every damn day.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll cry over your careless insults later, Martin.” We pick up the pace as the clearing opens in front of us. “Look, I know it’s scary as hell. I won’t deny that. But when you see you’re kid for the first time, you’ll get it.” “Get what?” What is this mysterious ‘it’ he assumes I’ll get? “That this is the only reason you were born. That he’s the center of your entire existence and nothing else you’ve done or will ever do will matter as much as being his dad and doing right by him. You’ll see, man. It’s just this instant understanding that hits when you become a parent.”

Now I come to a dead stop because we’re almost out of trail and I have more questions. Lots more. “I became a parent three years ago,” I tell him. “I didn’t know. I didn’t feel any different. I had no fucking sixth sense about it or anything.” Landen frowns at me. “You became a biological father three years ago, Martin. Not a parent. You weren’t supposed to have a crystal ball and know he was being born. No one expects that. You became a parent the moment you decided to stay here and fight for custody of your son. And you will officially be one when you’re granted custody. Until then, take it easy on yourself. The fact that you even give a shit about being a good dad means you’ll be one.” I think he’s done imparting wisdom but he isn’t. “Neither one of us lucked out particularly well in the dad department. And that was my biggest fear, that I’d be like my dad. But I shouldn’t have worried about it and you shouldn’t either. Because you know what our dads weren’t doing twenty-four years ago?” I know the answer for once. “They weren’t having a conversation about how to be decent dads?” “Exactly.” “It’s just…you love Layla and she loves you. So of course you love your kid. But my situation is… different. It was one night, you know? She wasn’t some random hook up and I cared about Fallon back when we were kids. But sometimes, and I may burn in Hell for saying this, but sometimes I damn near hated her. And this…her leaving me all alone to deal with this in the way that she did…I feel kind of pissed at her, you know? And I’m carrying all this goddamn guilt about not saving her or fixing her before it was too late. What if I see this kid and I just don’t connect?” Landen rakes his hands through his hair as we approach the end of the path. “Look, if you see that kid for the first time, hear him call you dad for the first time, and you feel nothing, or worse, like my dad, you feel angry, then call me and we’ll get your bitch ass some therapy. But Skylar, I’ve known you for a long time. If you were too pissed or fucked up in the head or whatever, I’d tell you to stay away from this kid and let his grandparents raise him. But I think we both know you didn’t take time off work, contact a team of attorneys, and put Corin through the emotional wringer, all for a kid you won’t even care about. So relax. From what Layla said, Corin is handling it well, though now it’s my wife contemplating removing your balls instead of your girl threatening mine. So that’s a nice change.” I sigh because Layla can be pissed at me. I didn’t cheat on Corin necessarily, but I made a questionable choice to say the least, one Corin is paying for in a round about way, and I deserve the anger. “I’m scared, man. I’m honest to God terrified out of my mind.” “If mine are still in tact, yours are probably safe.” I slug Landen lightly on the shoulder. “Not about that, ass. About being a dad. A parent. About whether or not I’m doing this kid a huge disservice by fighting for custody.” “Welcome to parenthood, my friend,” he says, stretching on a nearby bench as we prepare to go our separate ways. “It’s amazing and wonderful and terrifying as hell.”

e lose the first hearing. Or rather, the judge rules against us. Due to the fact that Christian doesn’t know Skylar yet, the Kensingtons are granted temporary custody of him until the end of the trial. It’s a painful blow and it takes a toll on Skylar. His first visitation is tomorrow and I can see the doubt weighing heavily on him as we leave the courthouse. “Mr. Dodd warned you this could happen and said not to be discouraged, remember?” Skylar nods but is silent as we get in the car. “And you have regular visitation now. So you’ll get to know him in plenty of time for the trial.” While the judge wasn’t ready to uproot Christian today, he did grant Skylar two days a week and every other weekend as open for visitation. The Kensingtons looked like they’d swallowed handfuls of nails when the judge informed them that Skylar was free to see his son at his convenience on Tuesday, Thursday, and every other Friday through Sunday. He has to give them twenty-four hour notice that he’s coming, but he can take Christian out of their home and bond with him, which his attorney said was a major win. The judge did call their behavior “shameful” when they admitted knowing Skylar was his father and not contacting him. I took that as a point for the home team. We stop at a sandwich shop for lunch after the hearing but Skylar barely touches his food. “Babe…” I touch his knee with mine under the table. “I know you hate losing and you are not particularly good at it. But try not to let this get to you, okay? Tomorrow is Tuesday, which means you can see him, meet him. Go ahead and call the Kensingtons and give them the proper notice.” “What if this is all pointless, Corin?” Skylar meets my gaze and he looks like a lost boy who’s been separated from Peter Pan. “What if I just get all attached to him and the court says no? What if I fight my ass off and the judge still rules against me? What am I supposed to do? Just go on with my life and see my son every other weekend?” I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. “I may not be a parent, Sky, but I understand what you’re feeling. Not that long ago I remember thinking to myself ‘what if I get all attached to this clown who’s constantly spitting ridiculous game at me and he goes off and gets called up to the pros and leaves me behind? What if I can’t see him as much as I’d like? What if I fall in love with him and love him more than he loves me? What if he meets someone else? What if he dies?” Skylar ’s eyes widen and understanding shines in them. “I’m a selfish dick,” he mumbles. I roll my eyes. “No, you’re not. But you don’t have much time for a pity party. Sorry. You’re meeting your son tomorrow. And the truth is, loving someone, caring about them, it’s a risk. One I struggled to take when we first met and one you’re afraid of now. As you should be. It’s scary. And if the court rules against us, we’ll appeal. And if they keep ruling against us, we’ll appeal some more. If you are what’s best for your son then we will fight until he’s with us.” “You keep saying ‘we’ and ‘us’,” Skylar points out. “I never meant for this to turn your life upside down, but I know that it has. And whatever happens at the trial, my life will be completely different from here on out. I am sorry for that. Truly.” I shake my head. “We are an us. I accepted that a long time ago. If you decide you don’t want to be, because you need to focus on your son, your career, or whatever, then you can tell me. But I love you so that means whatever you’re going through, I’m going through. If your life changes, so does mine.

W

I’m okay with that. More than okay.” Skylar lifts our joined hands to his mouth and kisses mine. “I love you too, so damn much there aren’t words.” I do have one question for him. One I haven’t asked the entire time but has been weighing on me. “Can I ask you something?” He nods. “You can ask me anything.” “If you and I hadn’t called it off, or rather, if I hadn’t said I didn’t want to do the long distance thing when you left, do you think you still would’ve slept with Fallon that night?” I do my best not to wince over the last part. There isn’t a moment’s hesitation from him. “Well hell no, Corin. Jesus. The only reason I was even in that bar that night was to drink away the constant ache from losing you. Not that I’m blaming anyone for my choices because no one forced me to do anything and I take full responsibility for my actions. But no, babe. No way in hell would I have ever cheated on you or even thought about cheating on you.” I nod. “I think I already knew that. And in some ways, I feel partially responsible for everything that’s happened. If I hadn’t been afraid, if I hadn’t let you leave with the way things were, or if I’d just been brave enough to try—” “I’ve been having that conversation with myself since I first found out about Christian,” Skylar admits. “Blaming myself for being weak, for getting too wasted, for making a...dammit.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear the thoughts from it. “I don’t want to think of my son as mistake, you know? He’s not. But that man I was that night, the one who was too drunk to use protection, or better yet, to not sleep with someone I wasn’t in love with, I’m not proud. The team makes us get tested every few months and I was terrified each time I had to wait for results. I’m deeply ashamed and so damn sorry that not only did it hurt you, but that every time you see him, you will be reminded of something hurtful that I did.” I hadn’t realized how much guilt Skylar was carrying around. “Stop,” I say, before he verbally pulverizes himself any further. “Don’t underestimate me, Skylar Martin. I am human, too, and we all make questionable choices and, okay, mistakes. So while that night with Fallon might not have been the best decision you ever made, and yeah, it doesn’t feel good to sit and think about, it says a lot that you are manning up and taking responsibility for the outcome.” I lean forward and place my forehead on his. “Look at it this way, maybe we were meant to take that short break, to hurt for a bit so we could decide if what we had was worth fighting for. Maybe we were meant to be weak, both of us, for a period in time so that Christian could exist in the world. Maybe he’ll cure cancer. Or maybe he’ll just be a really amazing kid that you get to call your son.” Skylar gives me a wry grin. “Or maybe he’ll be a giant pain in the ass like I was and my parents will think I got what I deserved.” I smile. “Maybe. But he’s going to be loved either way. He’s three years old and people are already going to war over who gets to raise him. Some kids don’t have that. So I’d say he’s off to a good start.”

he first time I meet my son, I’m speechless. And everything Landen said makes sense. And nothing makes sense. And this child is perfect and I am not worthy. Deborah Kensington doesn’t take her eyes off Corin or me from the moment we enter her home. Christian sits on a blanket in the middle of the room surrounded by bright colorful toys of all shapes and sizes. “Hey, buddy,” I say, squatting down to his level. “What you got there?” He smiles at me and resumes playing with a puzzle made of wooden pieces shaped like trains. I help place one of the pieces and he hands me another. No questions. No ‘who the hell is this guy touching my puzzle like he owns the place?’ Just acceptance. Once he’s finished his puzzle, I hand over a stuffed giraffe and ask if he’d like to go to the zoo and see a real one. He looks at Deb, who nods, before he grins at me and says, “raffe.” He’s older than the picture I have, slightly less baby fat and more like a miniature version of me. The shape of his nose and face are more like Fallon’s and his skin tone is closer to hers. But the hair, the eyes, and the shit-eating grin are all me. My son. I can’t even. “His diaper bag is packed. We’re working on potty training but we aren’t quite there yet,” she tells us. “Do you have a car seat or do you need to borrow one of ours?” “I have one,” I tell her. “We picked it up yesterday. Corin researched, it’s got the highest safety rating—” “I’m sure it’s fine,” she bites out. I stand, ready to deal with the hostility in her tone before it becomes upsetting for Christian, but Corin steps between us. “I never got to say how sorry I was about your loss,” Corin tells Deborah. “I only met Fallon once but she was beautiful. And I imagine this feels a bit like losing her all over again. I hope you know we’re not trying to hurt anyone, least of all Christian. But Skylar deserves to know his son and Christian deserves to know his father. Don’t you agree?” I clench my jaw in preparation for a hateful answer but Deborah’s shoulders sag as if she’s just too exhausted to argue. “I do,” she relents. “My husband never wanted kids and isn’t exactly thrilled about raising another one.” You didn’t raise the first one, I want to say. You abandoned her. But I bite my tongue because Fallon’s fight is finished and rehashing it now won’t help anyone. “So then why are you fighting me, Deb? If Jack doesn’t even want full custody, why are we about

T

to go through a major trial?” Tears spring to Deborah’s eyes. “I lost my baby, Skylar. And not just when she died, but when she was younger and I couldn’t reach her. She shut me out and I thought…I don’t know what I thought. I thought it was teen angst or a phase she’d outgrow.” There is a small measure of sympathy swelling in my chest, but not much. Very small, because I know Fallon did try to tell her parents what had happened to her as a kid, what she could remember of it. But they didn’t want to hear it. So she shut them out. She shut everyone out for the most part. “I understand that it hurts,” I tell her. “But as a parent who lost their child, how can you try to deprive me of mine? Three years, Deb. For three years I’ve missed everything. I can’t get that time back. How do you think that feels?” “I wasn’t trying to deprive you of anything,” she answers while drying her tears. “Not intentionally. Fallon said you wouldn’t want him. She said you’d be mad and you might not even remember being with her that night. She was strung out or in rehab most of the time, Skylar. The doctor ’s didn’t know if he’d develop correctly or have issues. You were just starting a professional soccer career. I know you’re angry, but at the time, it felt right. It felt like my second chance to do right by my daughter.” I glance over at my son who looks perfectly healthy. “Are there? Any developmental issues I should know about?” Deb shakes her head. “Not that we can tell. Possibly a slight speech delay but the doctors say that’s common among kids and nothing to worry about.” I actually had that too. But once I started talking, my sister said I never shut up. “Any food or other allergies we should know about?” Corin inquires from beside me. “Not that we know of,” Deb answers, looking mildly impressed that Corin thought to ask. “He won’t eat eggs or anything green, but again, the doctors say that could just be a normal childhood aversion.” It feels like a window is open, one in which I can get through to Deb without judges or lawyers in the way so I plead my case. “I know my career is demanding and requires a great deal of international travel, but I’ve spoken with my coaches and coordinators and the league has some of the best tutors and teachers available. I’ll have a personal assistant as well as my mom or my sister with me year-round,” I tell her. “Christian will have every advantage I can give him and I’ll buy a house here in California for the off-season. I have a condo with plenty of room for him in Vancouver. I don’t want to cut you out, Deb. I swear I don’t. But you’re his grandma not his mom. He’s my son and I’m the one who should be raising him. If I get overwhelmed or something comes up, it’d be nice to know I could call you. That we could be on friendly terms and that every mistake I make won’t be held against me in a court of law.” It’s too much too soon and I can see it on her face. “I’m sorry to drop all of that on you at my first visitation,” I say quickly. “I just want you to think about it, okay? I’m not the irresponsible kid you knew years ago. I’m a man and I’m trying to be the best one that I can.” She nods. “I know. I appreciate that. Let’s just see how visitation goes for a while, okay?” “Okay,” I agree. “Thank you for letting me take him today. We’re going to the zoo downtown and then to dinner at my parents’ house. I’ll have him back by eight, as agreed upon. You have both of our cell numbers.” “Enjoy your visit,” Deb says on our way out. I can hear how much effort it takes her to say that. So I meet her eyes and smile and say, “Thank you.”

My son loves elephants. His eyes nearly double in size when he sees them. We use our arms to mimic trunks and I am officially the most hilarious man on the planet. He also loves trains. There is a small train you can ride through the zoo and we ride it a dozen times before we leave. Corin brought her fancy camera and takes several pictures of us, some posed and some candid I catch her taking when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Around five in the evening, Christian yawns in his stroller and says “hungry.” Corin retrieves a bag of dry cereal from her purse and offers it to him. He polishes it off and eats the fruit snacks she offers as well. I didn’t realize she was a walking vending machine. We buy him an apple juice in a souvenir elephant cup and make our way toward the exit. “How did you know to bring snacks?” Corin shrugs. “I take eight hours of back to back classes most days. I always have snacks in my purse. Figured this might be a long day for him so I grabbed what I had.” “Thanks,” I tell her. “For coming today and for thinking of snacks. And for…” She raises an inquisitive eyebrow while she waits for me to find the words. “For being you. For not bailing on me when you would’ve been completely justified in pounding sand.” She nudges me gently. “Well…you’re really hot and pretty decent in the sack. And I’ve already invested all this times in you and it’d take forever to train someone else so…” I chuckle low beside her. “Just decent, huh? I’ll have to see what I can do to up my rating later.” Corin blushes and shakes her head. I never would’ve called her maternal before, or thought a woman bending over strapping a kid into a car seat was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever seen, yet I’m practically drooling on her when she does it. “I thought I would be bad at this,” I admit as Corin and I sit with Christian, who’s happily eating cut up fruit, pasta salad, and grilled chicken strips at my parents’ house. She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Why would you think that?” I shrug. “I don’t know. I wasn’t that big on kids before, I guess. I mean, I’ve coached them at soccer clinics and stuff but…” “It’s different when it’s your kid,” she tells me. That it is. Much different than I ever could’ve imagined. A part of me is more relaxed than I’ve ever been, just enjoying this time watching my family interact with my son. But another part of me is on high alert, as if danger is lurking around every corner. The zoo was a strange brand of tortuous fun. Wild animals, gorilla pits, child abductors. Apparently fatherhood is feeling like you might have to take a bullet any second to protect your child and you would, happily, if it meant preventing any harm to a single hair on their head. Corin chats easily with Christian, discussing the animals we’ve seen and the noises they make and a circus parade she saw once. My family completely realigns during and after dinner, with Christian being the new center of the universe. He’s like the sun, or gravity. Every move he makes, someone claps or laughs or comments. Even my dad seems to get a kick out of making him smile. Watching him here, I know for certain for the first time, that he belongs with me.

I feel a sense of relief at how smoothly our first visit went. And I don’t want to take my son back to the Kensingtons. “He likes being the center of attention,” I comment to Corin as my son eats up the affections of every adult in the room. “Hmm…wonder where he gets that from?” She winks at me, but it’s true. I like attention. Sue me. “Guess I better get used to being second fiddle, because there’s a much better looking sheriff in town, huh?” Corin nods. “Looks like. Don’t worry, I still love you.” I kiss her on the cheek. “Thank goodness for that.” On the drive back to my parents’ after we’ve dropped Christian off, Corin touches my arm before I hit the interstate. “Could we stay at my place tonight?” I nod. “Of course. You okay?” She smiles and the soft glow of interior lights gleams against her bright white teeth. “Better than.”

here is nothing hotter than a man with a baby and a diaper bag. Except watching him put that child to bed. And hearing him say the sweetest goodnight you’ve ever heard over the baby monitor. Even Deb looked surprised. But I was downright floored. And turned on as hell. Skylar has always been confident—probably a little more so than most. But he was nervous about his first visit with his son and it was sweet that he cared so much about being a good dad. Once he got the hang of it, though, watching him get Christian out of the car with ease, carrying the sleeping boy like it was the most natural thing in the world, it was an ovary-exploding sight to behold. Then while I was returning the diaper bag to Deborah, I heard it. His voice coming through the speaker next to where she stood. “Night night, big guy. Thanks for hanging out today. Daddy loves you and I’ll be back soon. I promise. Sweet dreams, Christian.” The cadence of his voice was unlike anything I’d ever heard. Soft and strong. Protective. Raw. And it’s official. Skylar Martin is the hottest dad ever. Something deep in the core of what makes me, well, me, begins to pulse and throb uncontrollably —as if my heart is pumping a drug throughout my system instead of blood. The car ride is sheer torture and I barely make it inside my front door before jumping Skylar like a complete lunatic—a lunatic in heat. He seems to anticipate my move and practically catches me in mid-air. His hands grip my waist tightly, and I moan into his mouth. “I always thought you were hot. Not going to lie. And the closer we got, the more I wanted you. But tonight…you…with Christian…the way you—” His tongue cuts me off when it slides into my mouth. My knees go weak so he has to literally hold me up. “I need you. Inside me. Soon,” I tell him. Or maybe I’m begging. I don’t know. I just need him to soothe this ache. Immediately. Skylar slides his fingers between my thighs, beneath my dress and inside my panties. “Fuck, baby. You’re already wet for me.” I whimper as he thrusts a finger into my throbbing slit. “Thank you for wearing a dress tonight. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” I grind against his hand, trying to get him to that place deep inside but it’s not enough. I growl my frustration and he chuckles low against my neck. “Want me to fuck you right here against this wall, sweetheart? Or can you make it to the bedroom.”

T

The bedroom might as well be in a different time zone. “Wall,” I pant. “Right here. Now. Please.” He complies, unbuttoning his jeans quickly and lifting me, impaling me on his steely length. He’s inside me without a condom but I can’t find the words to remind him to pull out when we finish. I wrap my legs around him in a vice grip as he sets the pace for our bodies. This isn’t the way we usually make love. It’s different, but a good different. This is about gratification and pure, animalistic need. With every thrust, he short circuits my brain, making it impossible to think any logical thoughts. I hear myself, praising him and pleading for more. Normally I’m less vocal, but tonight, I need everything he can give and I need him to know. I’m mid-release when he jerks hard inside of me. His mouth covers mine, drinking in my every breath, swallowing my moans of pleasure. My orgasm has a life of its own and it overtakes my entire body. I feel him trying to pull out but I clamp down and hold him inside. I need this, need to feel him filling me. Once I’ve ridden out the wave of ecstasy, I’m drained—weak and unable to anything but slump against his chest. Skylar lifts me and carries me in his arms to the bedroom. “I should’ve pulled out,” he says from above my head. “We both get tested regularly and I take my pill, Sky. Always. Religiously.” I feel his throat move as he swallows. “I know. It’s just…with everything…I should be more careful. I want to always be careful with you.” I reach for him when he lays me on the mattress. “I’m not made of glass, you know. Sometimes I like less than careful.” He leans down and kisses me on the mouth before telling me he’s going to clean us up before he comes to bed. I drift weightlessly in and out of consciousness, barely aware of the warm washrag that he uses to soothe the sensitive skin between my legs, until his warm body is lying beside me. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear. “Today was perfect. You are perfect. In a hundred lifetimes I could never do enough good to deserve you.” “I love you, too, Skylar,” I whisper against his neck. His arms tighten around me. “Always.”

t takes almost six weeks before we get a court date. Then the Kensington’s lawyer requests a twoweek continuance because he has a scheduling conflict. I returned to the team weeks ago, but my head and heart haven’t been on the field with me. They’re in California with a little boy who has my eyes. Every weekend that we don’t have a game, I fly home and spend every waking second I can with Christian. Sometimes Corin is able to get away from her internship and she comes with us and sometimes it’s just me and little man. Even Deb and Jack seem to be surprised that I keep coming back. Part of me wonders if the continuance their attorney requested is bullshit and they’re hoping I’ll lose interest and go away. I won’t. They can request continuances until their blue in the face—I will not give up on my son. I always give them notice, always arrive on time for pick up and drop off, and I have made sure to keep them informed about what he eats, drinks, and when he sleeps when he’s with me. When he had a fever, I called to let them know that I had contacted his pediatrician and given him the correct dosage of Tylenol. When he got sick after riding the carousel at the fair, I described the color and contents of his vomit. I don’t know what else they want from me, but whatever it is, I will gladly give it. I have made damn sure there isn’t a single thing they can say against me in court. I do have a question to ask Deb, though, and I’m not sure how it’s going to go over. It’s two weeks until our court date and the last thing I want to do is piss her off or give her anything to use against me. But I have to try. After taking Christian to play Putt-Putt and eat froyo on Sunday afternoon, I put him to bed and linger in the Kensington’s living room. Deb offers me something to drink, but I tell her I’m good. Once I’ve reported in nearly every minute of my time with Christian, I put in my request. “Do you think he could go to Vancouver with me next weekend? I have a tournament and I don’t want to miss my weekend. My mom and Corin are both coming so they can care for him while I’m working. I’d love for him to get to come to the game.” I can see the “no” in Deb’s eyes before she says it out loud. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” I rush on, “but I can call you regularly to check in, we can video chat so you can see that he’s okay, and—” “Skylar—” “Deb, please. I’m begging. Tell me what I can do to prove to you that I am not going to let anything bad happen to him. I’ll do it.” She sighs and rubs her temples. “Let me think about it and talk to Jack, okay? I’ll let you know something soon.”

I

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. I nod. “Thank you. For considering it at least. I appreciate that.” When Deb calls me a week later, I’m nearly positive it’s to tell me I can take Christian to Vancouver over her cold, dead body. And then she goes and surprises the hell out of me. I’m leaving a promotional event for the energy drink that contributes a great deal to the team when she calls. Walking to my car, I brace myself for an argument. “Skylar…Jack and I have been talking. A lot.” There is a strange sounding resignation in her voice. “As you know, parenting was never something that came natural to Fallon’s dad…and for many years all either of us could see was the importance of growing our business.” I nod as if she can see me then roll my eyes at myself. “Yes ma’am. Fallon was open with me about her lack of a relationship with her dad and about her feelings of abandonment as a child.” I don’t mean to be a dick, but it is what it is. I’m not going to sugarcoat anything for a woman who caused me to miss out on three years of my son’s life. “Right. And she was justified in those feelings,” Deb relents. “But now, having Christian around, I guess I thought maybe he’d feel differently. But he didn’t and I spend most of my time alone.” I don’t have a clue what she’s getting to or if she just wants sympathy or a listening ear so I remain silent. “I haven’t been fair to you,” she admits. “I’ve been hoping you’d be a terrible father so that I could justify keeping Christian to myself. But that was wrong and I can’t deny the truth any longer.” “The truth?” I hear her audible intake of breath over the line. “You’re a good father. A great one. And considering the difficult circumstances you’ve been placed in, finding out overnight that you had a three-year old son, only getting to see him if you take time from work to fly across the country, and, well, dealing with me when I certainly haven’t been very accommodating…but none of that has deterred you.” “And it never will,” I tell her honestly. “He asks about you,” she says so low I can barely hear her. “After a couple days of not seeing you, he starts asking where his daddy is.” My heart seizes in my chest. “Does he say that? He calls me daddy to you?” There is a sniffle over the line. “He does.” “So can I bring him out next weekend? Deb, I swear I meant what I said and I’ll check in as much as possible and—” “That won’t be necessary, Skylar,” she says evenly, having regained her composure at record speed. Fuck. I should’ve known. I slump into the driver ’s seat, but she continues. “It won’t be necessary because we aren’t going to fight your petition for custody. You are his father. You have proved yourself. As hard as it’s going to be for me to let go, it’s the right thing to do.” I am officially speechless. “Wait. What?” I need to hear her say it again, just to be sure I heard correctly. “He’s your son, Skylar. You’re ready to be a full-time parent and I won’t stand in your way any longer.” Her voice lacks its normal edge. She’s tired. And sad.

But I could sprint home from this news alone. “So, just to be clear, you’re giving me full custody of Christian? Not conditional visitation or—” “Full custody.” There is maybe another sniffle or she’s clearing her throat, I can’t tell. “I just have one request.” “Name it,” I say, because if she’s really going to give me custody of my son, no trial, no lawyers, no messy custody battle, then I will pretty much do whatever she asks. “Please don’t cut me out of his life,” she pleads quietly. “If you’re in town and you feel like having lunch or if I can drop by and give him a birthday or Christmas gift now and then—I’d really appreciate that. I know I haven’t done right by you, Skylar, but please believe me when I say I love Christian very much.” I breathe the largest sigh of relief I ever have. “I know you do, Deb. Like I told you before, I won’t cut you out. I promise.” “Thank you, Skylar.” There is a long pause. “I’ll pack his things this week and you can come get him before your game this weekend. I’ll let the lawyers know to have the paperwork ready for you to sign as well.” I could cry. Or do a victory dance. Or a motherfucking backflip. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Hang on, Christian. Daddy’s coming. Two weeks later, after a trip to Vancouver and back, my parent’s throw a party for Christian that rivals every event I’ve seen in the Martin household. There are animals, kids, inflatables, and I don’t even know what else in our back yard. Between signing the necessary paperwork with the state and with my team, finding a house nearby to live in during the off-season, and taking care of Christian, Corin and I haven’t exactly had a ton of time alone. I caught a few glimpses of her in passing while she refilled the food and lit the candles on Christian’s cake. It’s not his birthday for several more months, but this day will forever be what we’ve donned, Gotcha Day, because today it is official. I am my son’s sole legal guardian. My hope is that one day, Corin will be added to that paperwork when she becomes my wife. But with law school and her internship, it wouldn’t be right to add a wedding and an insta-family to her already hectic schedule. Not that I could keep her from Christian if I tried. She tells me regularly that she could take me or leave me, but Christian she will love forever. Poor girl. She probably has no idea she’s stuck with both of us for life. The entire party sings a version of happy birthday, changing the words around, and Corin’s eyes meet mine over the chaos. Something more than candlelight flickers in them but I’m too far away to identify it. Later, once Christian has opened more gifts than I know what to do with and guests begin to head out, I go on a search for my girl. She’s not in the kitchen with my mom and sister. Not in the office my dad lets her borrow when she has work to deal with. And not in old bedroom upstairs. I hear strange sobbing sounds coming from the bathroom across the hall. I knock but there is no answer so I knock once more. “Red? You in there, sweetheart?” “Just a minute,” she says, her voice muffled through the thick door and what sounds like tears. “Be

right out.” Like hell. I twist the locked knob until it gives. Corin’s eyes are red-rimmed and she’s definitely wiping away the remnants of tears. “Oh, babe,” I say, taking her into my arms. “What’s wrong?” A sob wracks her body hard against mine. “It’s…it’s nothing. I’m fine.” I pull back to look into her face. “Come on, baby. Don’t shut me out. Whatever it is, we will handle it.” She looks at me strangely, like she’s embarrassed, before handing over a long white stick. “It’s silly. I should be glad not blubbering like an idiot.” My breath catches in my throat, but when I glance at the result it’s not what I expect. Technology has come a long way because the thing literally says NOT PREGNANT in the little digital window. “This is why you’re crying?” I tilt her chin up when she tries to look away. “I was late,” she tells me, shrugging out of my arms and throwing the negative test in the garbage. “I was scared but in a way, kind of excited, I guess. I didn’t actually realize that I wanted it to be positive until it wasn’t.” Corin wants to have my baby. Even after everything, after she’s had to juggle my crazy schedule with hers, had to become a sort of mom to a child she didn’t give birth to, all of the unexpected life changes and she’s never broken down once. Not in front of me at least. Not only that but she wants to have my baby. Mine. In her body. On purpose. I am literally the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. “You look surprised,” she informs me. “You know I love Christian. Why wouldn’t you think I’d want to have more?” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, you’re great with him and I…I guess maybe I was afraid you were in here crying because it’s a lot to deal with, me having full custody now. This wasn’t exactly the plan and I know I’m not exactly a star candidate for relationship goals now.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t underestimate me, soccer boy. Or yourself.” She leans on my chest. “Seeing you with him, I can’t explain it. You’re more than I ever imagined you could be. And I don’t mean that I didn’t think much of you before because you’ve always been this force to be reckoned with—bold and headstrong and not afraid to go after what you want. But in some ways, for all my preaching to Layla, I’ve always been a little afraid myself. Afraid of getting hurt, of not getting into law school, of not being enough. Until everything happened and I realized that while I may not fit anywhere else in the world, I belong here, with you and with Christian. And that gives me courage to try things I never thought I could.” “Such as…” “Such as having a baby. One day. This wouldn’t have been ideal timing. But one day, I would like to give Christian a brother or sister. If that’s okay with you.” I scratch my chin thoughtfully as if I need to contemplate her proposition. “I suppose I could handle that.” Corin smacks me lightly on the chest. “I should get this law degree first. Then we can revisit the possibility.” I lean and kiss her softly. “Just so you know, one day, I plan to impregnate the hell out of you. Just sayin. But you’ve been so patient with my career and everything with Christian, I want you to know I support your dreams too, Red. You’re going to be the best damn child advocate ever.” “Thanks, babe.” We walk out of the bathroom together and rejoin what’s left of the party.

“Hey…” Corin begins, just before we step into the kitchen to help clean up. “Just, um, in case I forget to tell you…I’m really glad you were such a persistent pain in the ass when we first met.” I grin. “While we’re being so open, I should tell you, I totally let you win at Mortal Combat all those times.” Corin’s mouth drops open in mock horror. “Liar!” I shrug. “It was the only way I could get you to keep spending time with me. A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” “Our entire relationship is built on lies, Skylar Martin. What are we going to do now?” I pull her close against my chest and palm her ass with one hand. “We could build it on love. Or sex. You pick.” “I’ll get back to you,” she tells me. “After our Mortal Combat rematch.” Later, when all evidence of a major Martin bash has been cleared away and Christian is asleep for the night, Corin joins me in our bedroom. “So what’d you pick?” She bites her lip to buy some time. “Sex. I decided love is for suckers. I’m just going to use you for your body. That cool?” I shake my head. “Nope. I have standards, you know. I’m going to need to draw a line. A friendship line, meaning no sex until I am absolutely positive you love me for me and not just for my body.” Corin whacks me hard with a pillow. “Uh huh. You wouldn’t survive holding out on me.” To prove her point, she takes off her shirt. Then her bra. Somewhere, angels trumpet. She’s right. I wouldn’t last five minutes. But I play along anyways because she’s smiling. “Wanna bet?” I arch an eyebrow and she slides her jeans and black lace panties down her long, luscious legs. Fuckkkk. My restraint is already wearing thin. “No more bets, soccer boy.” She steps forward until she’s straddling me on the bed. “Besides, I already won the only bet that matters.” I lean back to fully appreciate the view of her glorious naked body on top of me. “Which was?” “You,” she informs me with a light kiss on the lips that holds the promise of much more to come. “I bet on you.”

“W e’ll go to dinner after the ceremony to celebrate—anywhere you want,” Skylar tells me before my graduation ceremony. “I need to get Christian ready then we’ll head over early to get good seats.” I did it. I finished law school and I’ve already been offered a position with the Children’s Advocacy Center of Los Angeles. Not only is it my dream job, but the Director is a soccer fan and is going to work with me on my caseload so I can spend part of the year on the road with Skylar. I could pinch myself. Sometimes I have to. “Okay. Love you. Give little man a kiss for me and tell him I’ll spring for dessert after dinner if he can sit still through the ceremony.” “Love you too, Red. See you tonight, counselor.” I laugh as we hang up. Not only do I have one beautiful amazing man who loves me in my life. I have two. The other one calls me mom—a title I never thought I’d be worthy of. Christian Andrew Kensington-Martin is the smartest, sweetest, most adorable seven year-old I know. And I am honored that I get to be in his life. I will never forget the first time he called me mom instead of Corwin, which was how he pronounced my name from the moment we met. I’d been up late studying the night before and was exhausted. Christian was four and Kathryn and Katie both had the flu. Skylar had asked if Christian could stay with me during a tournament so he wouldn’t have to go on the long flight to the UK and of course I never said no to time with my favorite little guy. Nor did I want him flying to England with the flu going around even though the team had given Skylar a personal assistant that helped with Christian when needed. So we were having breakfast and the most precious four-year-old in the entire universe looked at me and lifted his empty bowl of Lucky Charms and said “More, mama?” My life changed in that instant. I went from exhausted to completely capable of running a dozen marathons back to back if necessary within seconds. He didn’t call Kathryn or Katie mom or mama, even though they spent nearly as much time with him as I did. They were Nana and Aunt Kay. Always. He picked me. As proud as I am that I finished law school in spite of everything going on in our chaotic lives, nothing compares to the feeling that swells in my chest every time Christian calls me mom. Skylar was worried, thought I’d be overwhelmed or uncomfortable with it. But it felt right, even that very first time, and I told him so. When he’s older, we’ll tell him about his birth mother. Maybe not the painful details, but enough so that he understands. I have her letter put away so that he can read it some day when he’s an adult, if he wants to. Sometimes I re-read it myself and it feels like I know her a little better each time. I visit Fallon every now and then, stopping by the cemetery to update her on Christian and how he’s doing and to tell her that he’s perfect. I never got to know her and maybe I was never meant to, but I am grateful for what she left behind, grateful that she wrote to Skylar and told him the truth. I like to think she’d approve of me being Christian’s mom. I hope she would be glad that he is healthy and happy and loved. I bought a collection of ceramic butterflies at an antique store years ago

and I leave one at her marble stone each time I visit. Maybe I’ll stop coming when I run out. Or maybe I won’t. We probably never would have been friends, but I think we would’ve understood one another on a deeper level. I arrive a few minutes late to the ceremony due to my latest trip to the cemetery. Fallon’s mom was there and we spoke briefly about Christian and she hugged me, which made me cry a little and thus I had to re-do my makeup. Watching her stand at her daughter ’s gravestone I saw a woman who’d lived life full of regret and I felt sorry for her. And I vowed to call my own mother soon, because at the end of the day, she did the best she could with what she had. I take my place in line just before the processional marches out into the auditorium. We move quickly through the pomp and circumstance and I find my guys in the crowd just before receiving my degree. They aren’t hard to find. They’re right up front and when my name is called, everyone begins pointing at where Christian holds a bright white sign with bold red letters. MARRY US, RED, it says. Marry them I will. I nod with tears in my eyes for the second time today. As I come off the stage, Christian runs into my arms. Skylar follows close behind and opens a small black box. “It’s not a credit card,” he tells me with a wink before leaning in for a kiss that lingers a few seconds too long to be appropriate in front of an audience. The ring is delicate and beautiful—a sizeable diamond shaped like a teardrop surrounded by fragments of smaller ones. It catches the overhead lights in every direction as he slides it on my finger. Landen gives Skylar some hell about taking a page out of his book as Layla hugs me tightly. Kathryn and Katie hug me to the point of suffocation. Even Skylar ’s dad came and I smile as he shakes his son’s hand. Their relationship has changed a lot since Skylar became a father and his dad retired and became a grandpa, but it’s still a work in progress. As we leave the ceremony, Skylar, Christian, and I decide to walk to the restaurant since it’s right around the corner and the weather is nice. “I was mostly still. So I get dessert, right?” Christian asks me with hopeful hazel eyes. We all laugh as I muss his curly hair. “Yeah, cutie. As long as you share with me.” “Cool,” he says as his dad takes the hand I’m not holding. “We can get married whenever you’re ready, sweetheart,” Skylar tells me over Christian’s head as we approach the Italian restaurant. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Or I have some time off around Christmas if that works for you.” I grin and nod as the mention of Christmas sends our son off on a tangent about his ever-growing Christmas list. “I know it’s not the fairytale,” my future husband says just loud enough for me to hear. “But I love you more than you could ever know and I promise to show you every day how grateful I am to have you in my life.” I glance over at the table full of our family that Christian has already rushed off to join. Not that long ago I was a broken girl with no future sitting alone on a bench waiting for a bus that changed my life. And now here I am surrounded by love and more joy than I ever could’ve imagined. Somehow I know Fallon is smiling down on us from a place where she is free from the darkness. No prince rescued me. I rescued myself. Though I did find two very charming and handsome fellas along the way. But I love our story because it’s ours. I haven’t told him yet, because I don’t want to steal his proposal thunder, but in about seven months, there will be another addition to our family. I’ll tell him tonight when we’re alone in bed. Then we can come up with a fun way to tell our son he’s going to be a big brother. I grin just thinking about it.

I tug Skylar backward before he joins everyone at the table. “Sky…” “Yeah, babe?” I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer because he’s mine and I can. “Best fairytale ever.” Read other books by Caisey Quinn

Dear Skylar, I can’t remember the last time I wrote a letter this way. Maybe in fourth grade when we were learning penmanship. Anyways, you’re probably wondering why I’m writing this to you now. I tried to reach you a few years ago, but I couldn’t and I understand why you don’t want to hear from me. You deserve happiness and love and someone who can appreciate the many gifts you have to offer in ways that I never could. I hope you worked things out with your redhead. I’ve never seen you so worked up over someone—not even me—so I guess it must be the real deal. First, I wanted to say thank you. You tried harder than anyone to see the good in me when I couldn’t see it in myself. No matter how much I hurt you or rejected your efforts at helping me, you were always there for me. So many times I wished I could’ve been different, wished I could’ve just been normal. I like to think we would’ve gotten engaged in college, married soon after, and had a houseful of gorgeous children—because let’s face it, we are both pretty damn attractive. When I was a kid, I used to play this game called “When I’m a mom.” Whatever was happening to me, whether my parents had left me with a stranger or if I was grounded or just completely ignored, I’d make myself these promises. Kind of like a do and don’t list. The most important ones were: When I’m a mom, I won’t ever leave my child with anyone who might hurt them. I won’t ever ignore them when they’re sad or lonely. I won’t ever make them eat dinner before dessert or send them to bed hungry. I won’t ever make them cry. And the dos. I will always say I love you. I will always kiss them goodnight. I will always let them get cotton candy at the fair. I will always listen to what they have to say. Even if it makes me sad. You’re the only person who knows the half of what my childhood was like, and you’re the one person who needs to know that it was so much worse than I ever told you. My dad’s business partner, Allen Densmore, he’s dead now, may his soul burn in Hell, began molesting me when I was eight years old. My parents would leave me with him and his awful hag of a wife when they’d go out of town. When I told his wife what he’d done, snuck into my room and hurt me, she slapped me in the face. When he didn’t stop, I told my dad, whose exact words were “Allen wouldn’t do something like that. You must’ve had a bad dream.” I’ll never know if my dad truly didn’t believe me or if he just valued his business more than my well-being. The first time I ran away from home I was ten and it was because they were sending me to the Densmore’s house for the weekend. I threatened to kill myself if they did and my mom put me in the hospital where I stayed for weeks.

When I got older, I tried to tell her everything. How some of the babysitters locked me in closets or my room so they could have boys over. How some of them would leave me home alone to go to parties and how scared I was. I even tried to tell her about dad’s partner, and why I kept threatening suicide every time he was mentioned, but by then, I’d acted out so much she didn’t trust a word out of my mouth. My parents existed in a perfect bubble and when my pain became like a giant needle threatening to burst that bubble, they’d send me away. For years, I barely spoke to anyone. Until you. Because as cocky and obnoxious as you could be, I knew from the first time I met you that you had a good heart. You had this light, one I knew no longer existed in me, if it ever even had. I tried to stay close to you in hopes it would rub off or something— that I’d figure out how to be fun and happy by imitating you and one day I’d be able to let the pain of my past go. I tried. And sometimes it worked. For a while. But it always came back—when I was alone for too long or not busy. Little things would trigger the memories and I learned that alcohol and pills could numb them away, temporarily at least. I’m not making excuses. It doesn’t make it right, but at the time, it was the only thing that helped. I got sober three years ago because I had to. We have a son. His name is Christian. Christian Andrew. He has your middle name because I wanted him to have something of yours. I pray he also has your inner light, your smile, your tenacity, and your infectious laugh. I don’t get to see him much. I struggled to stay sober after he was born and my mom was given custody. I keep trying to get it together so that I can get him away from them before they ruin him the way they ruined me. But I’m slipping, Skylar. I keep slipping. Back into the darkness. I’m so tired all of the time. Too tired to work, too tired to remember what day it is, too tired to fight the memories of things I can’t change. I need one last favor. It’s a big one, but I swear I will never ask you for anything again. I want you to be the one to raise our son. Don’t let them ruin him. Please. Fight for him, Skylar. Love him and want him and be good to him. You have a good heart. I know you can be the father he deserves. They aren’t meant to be parents. They don’t know how. They aren’t bad people, my parents, but they aren’t nurturing or kind or understanding. They are specific brand of selfish and they will probably try to keep our son like a possession. Please don’t let them. I can’t be the mother he deserves just as I couldn’t be the girlfriend you deserved. But the two of you, you could be there for each other. I hope you are well and that you’ll think about my request. I’ve included a picture of Christian, it’s the only one I have. It’s gotten me through some really difficult times. I don’t want to mess up your life or your career, but he needs you. I’m in Milan for another week but then I’ll be in New York and then back to LA. Maybe we can meet for coffee or something to talk if you’re in town. I hope to hear from you soon. All My Love, Fallon

Elastic Heart – Sia Mayday - Cam Free - Broods Peter Pan – Kelsea Ballerini Titanium – David Guetta feat. Sia Scars to Your Beautiful – Alessia Cara Try – Pink Red High Heels – Kellie Pickler Gasoline – Halsey Make You Miss Me (acoustic version) – Sam Hunt Hands to Myself – Selena Gomez Close – Nick Jonas & Tove Lo T-Shirt – Thomas Rhett Love the Way You Lie – Skylar Grey Till Dawn (Here Comes the Sun) – The Weeknd Clean – Taylor Swift Why Do I Feel – Dierks Bentley Just Over – Luke Bryan Don’t Need Nobody – Ellie Goulding Lost Boy – Ruth B Die A Happy Man - Thomas Rhett Next to Me – Emeli Sandé

Keep Me Still was Layla and Landen’s story and I knew how it played out before I even typed the first word. What I didn’t plan for was the amount of love readers had for Skylar and Corin. People wanted to know what happened between them those times they went off alone to give Layla and Landen their privacy. As time when on, I realized I wanted to know too. But Corin was stubborn. Private and guarded. And she didn’t want her story told. So it took a while to get it out of her. When she finally started talking to me steadily in my head, I was worried about publishing Give Me You. Her story isn’t pretty, isn’t linear, and isn’t quite as clear-cut and relatable as readers might prefer. In other words, it’s not the fairytale as she is fond of reminding you. But I like to think we all have our own version of what makes up a happy ending. Maybe we raise other people’s children, or have unplanned pregnancies, or have to battle depression after a miscarriage. Point being, while the specifics of our triumphs and tragedies may be different, we all get our hearts shattered to hell and back along the way in one way or another. Maybe we suffer through soul-staining experiences and heartbreaking disappointments, but in the end, life is a gift and a beautiful one. Corin realized that and as I told her story, so did I. I would be remiss not to mention Fallon. She is a complex young woman who many would’ve have easily painted as the villain. It’s a tempting road to take, but as I got to know her, I realized there was so much more to her than a pretty face. She was born from my years of teaching in wealthy school districts where I had students who talked more about time spent with nannies than parents. Please don’t misunderstand, I don’t mean to generalize or stereotype and it was only a handful of children who lived like that, but they made an impression on me. One in particular who I suspected but was unable to prove was frequently left in care that was less than ideal while her parents were out of town for either work or leisure. Two years after I left teaching, I learned that she’d committed suicide due to an unplanned pregnancy. I won’t name her because she was a minor and her family would probably not appreciate that very much, but for all the girls trapped in the darkness, I pray you find the light. That the right teacher or trusted adult is able to help you find it. I will never forget my “Fallon” and I will always wish I could’ve done more to help her. In some ways, Fallon is a version of Corin that Corin could’ve become under different circumstances. I never intended for them to be similar, and yet, Corin pointed out to me that they were. And finally, if you are a close reader who has done the diligent duty of placing Keep Me Still and Give Me You side by side to compare the parts where they overlap, you may have questions. Certain scenes are skipped—either glossed over or ignored completely and here’s why: While specific events might have been pertinent to Landen and Layla, they simply weren’t that life changing to Skylar and Corin. Since this is Skylar and Corin’s story, they got to call the shots about what was vital and what got left out. I hope you enjoyed Give Me You and that you will check out my other books! Keep reading for a

sneak peek at my next indie project, a suspense-filled southern romance that takes place deep in the Mississippi Delta coming this fall. For regular updates on my releases, sign up for my newsletter here.

Coming September 2016

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“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” -Pablo Neruda

PROLOGUE lood isn’t really red. Not like you see in the movies anyway. Not crayon red, or lipstick red, or whore’s panties red as the nun’s at school would say. Blood is so dark it’s nearly black. It’s thick and thin all at the same time. Slippery. Messy. And it stains. When you’re covered in it, really covered in it, it looks more like oil than anything else. That’s what stands out in my memory. Not the fear, not the paralyzing realization that the people I loved were dead. Not even the screams. It’s the blood I remember. I dream of it, dream I’m trying not to make a single sound as my bare feet slide through the warm wetness on my way out of the house. My dreams are so vivid I wake up covered in damp sweat and my trembling hands still check. No matter how many times I have the same exact nightmare, I still have to check each and every single time to make sure that it’s sweat I’m covered in. It’s been ten years. Ten years of the same silent scream-filled dreams. And I still have to check. It’s clear, thin perspiration every time. Until it isn’t.

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“M iss Carson has no recollection of the events, Your Honor.” His dialect is local, so my last name comes out more like ‘Kaa-Sun.’ The man speaking is dressed in a nice suit, a sign that he is likely wealthy. I know from the novels in my room that you can tell such as that about a person by looking at what they wear. I glance down at my own hospital issue gunmetal gray top and pants. They are thin and slightly rough. As if they were made from a type of paper. Non-descript. Like me. “Be that as it may, Mr. Dawes, this is a competency hearing. Not a murder trial.” My gaze drifts over to the man with the thicker southern drawl sitting behind the tall wooden structure. There’s a framed picture behind him with an American flag and an eagle on it. The frame is gold. A color I find garish and am not fond of. In front of him is a woman in a plain white shirt with buttons and a navy blue skirt. She clicks steadily on a machine. “If she can’t speak on her own behalf, and there’s no one here to speak for her, then I—” “I can speak for her, Your Honor.” I look over at the woman who has spoken. My lips curve into a smile when I recognize her. Aleatha Rose. She’s been my favorite nurse for as long as I can remember. The man behind the structure motions with his hand and she steps forward. “State your name for the court,” the man says. “Aleatha Rose Goodwin, Your Honor.” Her tiny dark-skinned hands grip the wooden gate she stands behind. My attention is focused on the steady tremble of them. Years of focusing on details, of forcing my mind to concentrate on minute things so that the dark looming memories that shadow my every thought don’t take over, has taught me to pay attention to little details. “And how long have you known Miss Carson, Mrs. Goodwin?” Her hands grip the gate tighter as she responds. “Ten years, Your Honor. I was on duty the night they brought her in.” “You’re an employee at the institution, I assume?” Her hands begin to steady until finally they are still. “It’s a private hospital, Your Honor. And yes, I’m an RN.” The man standing in the middle of the room in the suit speaks up before anyone says anything else. “Mrs. Goodwin has been a registered nurse for fifteen years and her husband is a Colonel in the United States Army, Your Honor.” A gentle quiver begins to rattle around inside of me. I twitch in my seat to stifle it. The tingling begins in my stomach and rises to my throat. It takes me a minute to realize that the impulse to laugh is threatening to overtake me in this quiet room full of stern and somber people. Not because anything happening around me is particularly funny. Only because it is making me strangely uncomfortable that everyone refers to the man as Your Honor. What does one do to be regarded in such a way? Surely that cannot be his name. What an odd name that would be. The man in the suit came to see me yesterday. He explained that I would be appearing before a judge, which I suppose is exactly what I’m doing. But he never said they’d be calling the judge Your Honor. I wish he had warned me so that I could’ve been prepared for this. “Can you tell us about the night they brought her in? What her mental state appeared to be?” Aleatha Rose swallows and nods. “Y-yes, Your Honor.” She pauses and turns her face to where I sit. I mean to smile at her but I’m not sure that I do. The corners of her mouth lift but there is sadness in her eyes. “She was eight years old. Small for her age. She had been checked for wounds and was still covered in dried blood. We bathed her and tried to get her to eat.”

“And did she?” “N-no sir, she did not. It was eleven days before we were able to get her to eat anything substantial.” My eyes have made their way back to Aleatha Rose’s tiny hands. They’re trembling again. Her uneasiness is contagious. My entire life I’ve carefully measured everything I do. Everything I think and feel. Most of the time it seems I’m even making sure my heartbeats are careful. Not too fast. Not too loud. Same goes for my breathing. Measured. Careful. And as close to silent as I can manage. Because I don’t want them to find me. And they will find me if I make too much noise or any sudden movements. If I let myself get worked up they will catch me. I’ll get caught in the whirring thoughts and emotions, like a wayward leaf in a windstorm. So I am still. And I don’t let the behaviors of others affect me. Until now. Aleatha Rose’s voice is quiet but firm, an intoxicating melody as she fills the men in on the mysterious and turbulent path that led to my ten-year stay at the St. Maria Goretti Center. “She is always still, like now, Your Honor,” she says. “We were able to make some progress with art—she likes mosaics very much. And with signals. She can nod and blink and smile.” The frail woman turns to me again. Inhale. Blink. Smile. I measure the time for each. One second and then two. Exhale. When I look away from Aleatha Rose, my breath catches in my throat. Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the room is watching me. But then I blink, and most of the other people aren’t paying any attention to me at all. Just Aleatha Rose, the judge, and Mr. Dawes. I’ve tried so hard to hide. To go unnoticed. But they see me. My eyes find the only familiar ones in the room. She tilts her head and I don’t know what it means. Is Aleatha Rose sad? She looks like an oil painting of sadness. She turns to address the judge again. “Your Honor, notification of the hospital closing was sent to all living relatives of current patients. Merritt doesn’t have any. But we received a letter this morning. My Director, Dr. Hudson Amos, sent me here to deliver the this before it was too late.” She holds up a white rectangle that I know from my classes to be an envelope. Too late for what? “Mrs. Goodwin, can you bring that to the bench please?” The judge puts on a pair of small silverframed glasses and places them on his face. Twenty-six seconds. That’s how long it takes him to unfold the piece of paper contained inside the envelope and scan his eyes up and down it. When he’s finished, he clears his throat. His steady gaze lands on Mr. Dawes first. “You’re aware of the contents of this letter, I presume?” “Yes, Your Honor. I believe this is the best available option for Miss Carson. Mr. Lennox has been contacted and the information has been confirmed.” The judge’s dark eyebrows dip, causing even more wrinkles in his weathered face. He turns to Aleatha Rose next. “Mrs. Goodwin, as far as your experience over the last ten years with Miss Carson, what is your response to this letter?” “Well sir, in my honest opinion—” The judge begins to cough and holds up a hand as if she should wait for him to finish. The harsh choking sound continues until he takes a small sip of water from the glass in front of him.

“’Scuse me. Allow me to clarify, Mrs. Goodwin. What I meant was, in your professional opinion, is Miss Carson capable of living on her own? Would she be able to care for herself as needed? Last thing I need is someone blaming the court for negligence if something happens to her.” Her hands grip the gate, turning her once blackish-purple knuckles white. “Your Honor, Miss Carson is one of the kindest, most gentle souls I’ve ever known. If her relative passed away during her stay at St. Maria’s then that explains why she never had visitors. But this letter states that not only does she own a home, but it’s a carriage house on a property in a small community in Mississippi, where I presume other people will be present. I’d like to believe those people would look out for her. I’m going to do everything I can to contact them and let them know—” “No.” The voice is soft and yet high-pitched. Timid and raspy. Nothing like how I imagine I sound in my head. Again I’m struck by the feeling that everyone is watching me. “Miss Carson?” the Judge responds first. “Is there something you would like to say to the court?” I nod, feeling the burn begin inside of me. My hands tighten around the fabric of my pants that’s gathered in them. “Could you stand for us please, Miss Carson?” Inhale. Exhale. Blink. Smile. Nod. I feel on fire and extinguished of all energy at once. I stand slowly, not trusting my legs to work. Aleatha Rose’s already large round eyes are so wide I can almost imagine then popping from her skull. I can even hear the sound it would make. A shudder runs through me as my heart begins to pound into my ears without permission. “M-Mr. Dawes t-told me.” I take a deep breath. My throat is scratchy and my tongue is entirely too large for my mouth. “He told me what the letter says.” The judge lowers the letter and clasps his hands. “Miss Carson, do you understand why you’re here today?” I nod. The lady clicking on the machine casts a helpless glance at the judge. “Miss Carson, it is my understanding that you do not speak on regular occasion. However, if you wish to participate in this hearing, I’m going to have to ask that you vocalize all answers.” I nod again and then flush instantly when I realize my mistake. “Y-yes, Your Honor.” I can see why everyone keeps saying it. It feels kind of nice in my mouth. “Okay, then. You said no. Am I to take this to mean that you do not wish to live on the property that has been left you by your deceased relative?” I shake my head and clench my hands so tightly I know there will be half-moon divots in the palms of them. “No, sir. I did not m-mean to say that. I meant to say that I do not w-wish for Aleatha Rose to contact anyone. I w-would like to go—” My words come out slow. Measured like my breathing. But my heart is a wild panicked animal in my chest. One that will not slow no matter what I do. I glance around at the occupants of the room. The judge looks confused, as if I am a puzzle with incorrect pieces jammed where they do not belong. Aleatha Rose has tears streaming wet trails down her face, and Mr. Dawes is nodding for me to continue. “I would like to g-go. To the home that has been left to me. I would like to go there without anyone calling anyone to t-tell them. What I am.” Aleatha Rose nods, wiping her eyes. I can feel it. Her surprise. She doesn’t know that I practiced speaking in my room when I was alone. Practiced reading the books she brought me out loud. Well, not out loud exactly since technically I was whispering. She wants to rush over to me, wrap me up and

hug me. But she doesn’t, and I’m thankful for her restraint. After I’ve spoken, I sit back down and listen as Mr. Dawes and the judge discuss whether or not I am able to care for myself. I don’t know if I am, but I know that I can learn. And that more than anything, I want the opportunity to try. It’s a mystery to me who my long lost and apparently long dead relative is that has left me a home. My mind knows that it should be grateful and appreciative that I have somewhere to go and will not be sent to the nearest state mental institution. But my heart is afraid. Wary of something that seems good to everyone else. Sometimes things that appear pretty and shiny to everyone else look much different through my eyes. If I am getting a new life, a new home, then I want to begin it on my own. With no one knowing who I am or where I’ve been. I don’t want them to know what I’ve been through. Or the deep dark secrets I know about myself. Aleatha Rose called me a kind and gentle soul. She’s wrong and I don’t want her telling anyone anything else about me. Because if they believe her, then they will only be even more dismayed when they find out what I already know to be true. I’m not a kind and gentle soul. I don’t have a soul. And they’re about to set me free. Add to GoodReads

Caisey Quinn lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her daughter. She is the bestselling author of the Neon Dreams series (Avon/William Morrow) and the forthcoming Nashville’s Finest series (Penguin/Random House) as well as several other New & Contemporary Adult Romance titles including Keep Me Still and the Kylie Ryans series. She can be found online at www.caiseyquinnwrites.com, www.facebook.com/AuthorCaiseyQuinn, and on Twitter as @CaiseyQuinn.

GIVE ME YOU Copyright © 2016 by Caisey Quinn All Rights Reserved. Cover Design by Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations Interior design and formatting by:

www.emtippettsbookdesigns.com Printed in the United States of America. June 2016 This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author ’s imagination or are used fictitiously. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the original vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author ’s work. If you have any issues with the receipt or formatting of this eBook, please contact me using the form on my website. www.caiseyquinnwrites.com

Table of Contents Praise for the Neon Dreams series ALSO BY CAISEY QUINN Title Page About GIVE ME YOU Dedication Quote PROLOGUE One | Corin Two | Skylar Three | Corin Four | Skylar Five | Skylar Six | Corin Seven | Skylar Eight | Corin Nine | Skylar Ten | Corin Eleven | Skylar Twelve | Corin Thirteen | Corin Fourteen | Skylar Fifteen | Corin Sixteen | Corin Seventeen | Skylar Eighteen | Corin Nineteen | Skylar Twenty | Corin Twenty-One | Skylar Twenty-Two | Corin Twenty-Three | Skylar Twenty-Four | Corin Twenty-Five | Skylar Twenty-Six | Corin Twenty-Seven | Skylar Twenty-Eight | Corin Twenty-Nine | Skylar Thirty | Skylar Thirty-One | Corin Thirty-Two | Skylar Thirty-Three | Corin Thirty-Four | Skylar Thirty-Five | Skylar Thirty-Six | Corin Thirty-Seven | Skylar

Thirty-Eight | Corin Thirty-Nine | Skylar Forty | Corin Forty-One | Skylar Forty-Two | Corin Forty-Three | Skylar EPILOGUE | Corin FALLON’S LETTER PLAYLIST Note from the Author Sneak Peek - 729 About the Author Copyright Notice