Tryst Page 4

My lips twitch as I recall his singular word: Wow. Wow, what?

  I peer down at my attire and realize that he must be referring to my black sports bra and spandex shorts. My body is still slick with sweat from practice. I wish I had taken a shower in the locker room.

  I take a sip of my water, thinking, I can beat him at this. I have to.

  “You can close your mouth now, Blake.”

  He licks his lips first in outright carnal appreciation before smiling and ruffling his hair. “Your abs rival mine. I’m impressed.”

  I laugh and roll my eyes as I pass him.

  I’ve been playing soccer my whole life, and health and fitness have been my main priority since I was eighteen. Jason never really gave a fuck, so it’s nice that someone noticed.

  I shake my head at my ongoing internal pity party and answer, “Blake. Always so modest.”

  He laughs, and I can feel his emerald eyes watching my every move. Reflexively, I smooth out the back of my shorts.

  “Did you just come from the gym?” he asks.

  I turn around, already making it halfway across the living room. “No. I just came from soccer practice.” I chew my lip and do something before thinking about it. “I have a game that Josh is going to on Saturday. You’re more than welcome to come.”

  I instantly regret inviting him, and I decide not to wait for an answer. “By the way, I have a friend coming over to study with me. He should be here in an hour. Just FYI. We’ll be in the living room.”

  “He?” Blake asks.

  I want to laugh at his tone, but refrain. “Yes. He. And he will be here soon. I hope you don’t mind.”

  With that, I turn around and head upstairs to my room, not caring about what his answer will be.

  “No, I don’t mind at all.”

  Is there a tone to that? I can never tell.

  Even though I know he can’t see my face, I purse my lips, wondering what the hell that was about. I peer at the clock, realizing that Richard will be here at any moment, and I rush to get changed.

  Richard Bennett is, or should I say was, the captain of the men’s soccer team and my former biology TA. After our own flirty friendship began at coed practices, he also tutored me, and we became close. Of course there’s always more to the story, like periodic touchy-feely moments combined with drunken bouts of kissing, but we’ve agreed not to date. He has a psycho ex who wants me dead and he won’t stop sleeping with her. I don’t want to have anything to do with that. For now, the friendship and the attention are nice. I adore him. He’s smart, loyal, and a stand-up guy. He’s entirely too good for me.

  Richard is the only reason I’m surviving my senior year, and he’s been furiously helping me with my medical school applications. He already attends UCLA’s med school program, and now he uses helping me study as a way to spend time with me. He doesn’t know I’ve figured out that last part.

  Richard is perfect for me, and comically, he seems to think so, too, but a part of me wonders if I deserve someone as amazing as him, especially since I’m so far from being ready for any form of a relationship.

  I’m single, for once. I want it to stay that way for a while. I need to work on me for a bit.

  I fight my feelings for Rich, too; I’m not innocent, but what do you do when you value a friendship so much more?

  Besides, a distraction from Blake is what I need. Oh, and studying, of course.

  Chapter 7

  The doorbell rings and I run for it. I have felt out of sorts for days, and Rich has a way of calming me. Maybe it’s his caring eyes, which seem to absorb the stress that’s seeping out of my pores daily.

  I smooth out my sheer floral blouse and ruffle my hair before opening the door.

  Sometimes I forget how dashing Rich looks. I haven’t seen him since moving. Originally from New York, Rich can’t help but exude East Coast class. His father is a senator, I think, and he tells me about stories of summers in the Hamptons and trips to the Cape. He’s so out of my league, it’s ridiculous.

  His familiar gray eyes clash wonderfully with his dirty blond hair. My eyes drag across his broad shoulders, clad in his typical buttoned, formfitting sky-blue dress shirt. I’ve always thought he’s too good for the City of Angels.

  His eyes light up when he sees me, and I grin. “Hey, Skyler. Beautiful as usual.”

  I don’t find his confidence and compliment intimidating, but instead charming and wonderful.

  He moves by me and plants a kiss on my cheek.

  I shake my head. “I thought we agreed you’d stop doing that?” I remark.

  He reveals his smug, cocky I’m-too-good-for-this-city grin, and shrugs. “Whoops.” He sidesteps the question. “So are you ready for some organic chemistry?” He raises his eyebrows.

  I pretend to swoon as I stroll toward him. “It’s like you’re whispering sweet nothings in my ear, Rich. Say it again . . . chemistry, what? Protons, electrons . . .”

  He laughs and takes a seat on the bright red couch. “You’re a piece of work.”

  My face pales, because it mirrors what Blake said last night. I try to shake the strange butterflies in my stomach from recalling that memory.

  “What’s wrong?” Rich knows me far too well.

  I wave my hands to dismiss the question and change track. “Nothing. What do you think of my new pad? Even though it’s my brother’s place.”

  He accepts my turn in conversation and glances around as I take a seat next to him on the couch.

  “Very Hollywood chic. Your brother doesn’t mind?”

  I pull my textbook out of my backpack and lay it on the table while I answer. “No, not at all. Seems he wants to keep me around, actually.”

  “Ya know, Nathan moved out and I have an extra room.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Rich, you know perfectly well that that is not even remotely a good idea.”

  He laughs again. “I completely disagree.” His confidence with the statement alarms me.

  “So have you talked to Heather lately?”

  His face falls at the mention of his ex-girlfriend’s name. It’s the only way I can level the playing field when he gets overly confident.

  Heather Turloc broke his heart five months ago, and when I say broke, I mean ripped it from his chest and swallowed it whole like the evil monster she is. Regardless, she uses him as a booty call and free dinner from time to time. Rich, somehow thinking this behavior is acceptable, has gotten into the habit of using her for sex, too.

  I don’t want to admit it, but he seems to run back to her after I turn him down.

  Rich says he wants me, but his behavior shows otherwise. Heather has a viselike grip on his soul. She still acts as if she has a say over who he associates with, including me. This may have to do with a serious lip-locking session she caught us in while we were supposed to be discussing Shakespeare’s sonnets.

  Recalling the memory even now makes me bitter, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Rich and I are friends, and that’s how it should stay.

  We talked about the said incident once, and I explained to him that it was obvious we both weren’t in the right place to date.

  “I haven’t seen or talked to Heather in a while.” I notice he grits his teeth, and sits back on the couch.

  “Hmm,” is all I can manage as I look back at him, and immediately I hate that he looks so sad.

  “I’m sorry, Rich.” I scoot closer and lean back against the couch with him.

  I feel like I owe him so much more. I mean, aren’t we all tormented by past relationships? I stayed with a brutal bastard for two years, and to this day, I still wonder what he might be doing. I will not pass judgment on Rich, who has his heart tied up with someone else, too. We are all trying to get over the person who broke our hearts. We are all far from perfect.

  He smiles at the touch, and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “Ya know, Skyler, I—”

  “Hello, there.”

  Rich and I both stare at Blake as he emerges from the hallway
.

  Blake’s timing always seems deliberately wrong. I watch him strut from his bedroom, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him. He’s wearing a tight plaid button-up, with black jeans that hang effortlessly on his hips. His hair looks damp from a shower, and his sizzling green stare matches his arrogant smirk.

  “Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

  Liar.

  I shift out of Rich’s grasp. Rich has fallen silent, and I tug on his jeans to signal that he should stand up with me. Being the well-mannered, privileged East Coast boy he is, Rich follows suit as we rise from the couch.

  “No, not at all. Blake, I’d like you to meet Richard Bennett. Rich, this is Blake, my roommate.”

  Both men eye each other.

  There is a heated, angry glare to Rich’s gray eyes, and Blake looks to be on the verge of laughter.

  “You don’t go by Dick, do you?” Blake prods.

  Granted Dick is a nickname for Richard, but it’s obvious that that’s not what Blake has implied. My mouth falls slack, because Blake is blatantly trying to be an asshole. His confidence knows no bounds.

  I watch both men and want this moment to be over. What the hell is Blake doing? There’s something to the tension that I can’t figure out.

  Rich’s jaw clenches, and I can tell by the glint in his stormy eyes that he’s considering slugging Blake. But instead, he lets go of Blake’s hand and mirrors his arrogant smirk. “No, just Rich, actually. Thanks for asking.”

  His crisp tone sounds more mocking than sincere, but there is a hidden meaning behind his words.

  The tension is so thick that I could cut through it, and I desperately want to say something, but Blake continues.

  “Are you the boyfriend?” He swings his finger back and forth in a patronizing manner between Rich and me.

  I can sense Rich’s whole body tense as he shoots me a glance.

  “Guess not, then.” Blake flashes me his sly smile as he walks around us. “Well, I’m off to see someone. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rich. See you around, I guess.”

  I glare, while Rich waves him off, and just like that, Blake walks out the front door.

  I turn to Rich to stutter my apology. “I’m so embarrassed—”

  “I fucking hate that guy.”

  I whip my head around to look at him. “Do you know him?”

  Rich nods. “Unfortunately.”

  I want to throw a tantrum, because I feel as if I’m at the whim of the men in my life; be it my brother, my friends, or recent acquaintances.

  “What the hell do you mean?” I can’t help my frustrated tone.

  He shifts his body toward me and lets it relax as he twists his lips into another odd smile. “It’s a long story that has to do with Heather. I don’t want to talk about it. I only get you for two more hours before you leave for work. Now c’mon.”

  Before I can argue, he surprises me by placing his hands on my hips, pulling me back toward him. Tugging me onto the couch, and practically onto his lap, he steals another kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’d rather whisper sweet nothings to you about chemistry, or do you prefer Shakespeare?”

  The question catches me off guard. I blush and can’t help my reflexive, bashful smile at the insinuation of a previous memory, and my frustration is forgotten.

  I look away, ignoring the moment, and move to grab my textbook.

  “I don’t think you can handle Shakespeare right now. How about you explain to me what the valence bond theory is?”

  “Oh Skyler, you know the way to my heart.”

  We both laugh, forgetting all about Blake—at least for the moment.

  Chapter 8

  I approach the counter and wipe down the mess from my feverish coffee spills. It’s been a rough morning, and I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe I need a break. I don’t know.

  “So do you really think Blake almost kissed you? Moving kind of fast, aren’t you?” Tucker is always quick to pry.

  I roll my eyes as I think through his words. The last forty-eight hours have been interesting, from almost-kisses to secrets between boys and issues with studying for school.

  “Um, it’s possible, but at this point I feel delusional. By the way, nothing is happening, and nothing ever will. I wouldn’t have let it happen.”

  Tucker makes sure he lets me hear his exaggerated sigh. “Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

  Moments like this make me want to slap Tucker across his smug face, because my boy problems seem to be veering out of control and I don’t appreciate being Tucker’s personal reality show/soap opera.

  I’m about ready to retort with something snarky, but the ringing of the front door to the café cuts me off. I slam my mouth shut and continue my cleanup. I don’t want to deal with a customer, so I turn my back to Tucker in the hopes that he’ll leave me out of this one. He can take the order, and I will make the coffee.

  “Oh, hey there, Josh. We don’t see you here too often.”

  My brother’s name draws my attention, and I whip around.

  “Well, coffee isn’t my thing, ya know? How’s my sister’s favorite friend doing?”

  Tucker blushes. I hope he knows better than to mention Blake.

  “Oh, ya know, talking Skyler through her ridiculously stressful life, as usual, but I keep telling her she does it to herself.”

  Josh lets out a hearty laugh, but I find it funny that Josh has no idea what the true meaning behind Tucker’s words actually is.

  I decide it’s time to interject before he asks. “Josh! I thought you were always too busy to visit me at work?”

  Josh runs a hand through his hair and shoots me his do-you-always-have-to-be-so-ridiculous look.

  “I thought I could snag a smoothie, and also extend an invitation.”

  I perk up. “In a giving mood today, brother?”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  I prepare his typical strawberry-banana smoothie, and can’t help furrowing my brows. “Why do I get the feeling you’re asking me for more than a smoothie with that invite?”

  He releases another chuckle as he moves around to the other side of the counter to make room for a waiting customer. He stretches his face into a forced grin.

  “I wanted to invite you out tomorrow night. I think you deserve a night out with friends since you’ve been working and studying so much. Plus, I think it’s about time we get you some more friends, and mine are looking forward to meeting you.”

  I purse my lips as I press the button on the blender, letting the loud noise ring through the air, giving me a moment to think. He’s right about one thing: I don’t have many friends since breaking up with Jason. I had to start over, move across counties, and change my phone number. It felt like starting over. I have my friends from school, but my social life dropped dramatically since ridding myself of my ex’s friends. I should appreciate Josh’s offer, considering the circumstances.

  I turn off the blender. “As considerate as it sounds, I can’t imagine that inviting your little sister for a night out comes without some sort of favor.”

  Another laugh escapes him. “You would be half right. I do want you to come out though, regardless of my request.”

  With a grim stare, I hand him his smoothie. “And what does this request entail?”

  “So Blake and I are going to watch your game tomorrow. Thanks for inviting him, by the way.”

  His tone is sincere, but I make it a point to stare at the cappuccino machine. “No problem,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

  “Well, Saturday night we’re all going out to this new local club that one of my clients is opening up, and I want you to come with us.”

  I furiously clean the smoothie machine and can’t figure out why my shoulders are tensing, but I’m elated by the invite. Blake will be there, I’m sure.

  “I’d love to.” My tone is flatter than I intend, but he seems not to notice.

  “Me and about five of my guy friends are going, including Blake, so you’ll kn
ow him, at least.” He acts as if that’s a positive thing, when instead my stomach does a somersault, wracked by sudden nerves.

  I nod instead of reply.

  “So that being said, we’re a bit lacking in the girl department.” Josh has the audacity to flash me his perfect white teeth.

  I look up. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  He laughs again. “Help your brother out and invite some of the hot girls from your soccer team. You’d be my savior.” He steeples his hands in front of him in a praying motion as he shifts his face into a pouting frown.

  Feeling that I owe my brother, I nod. “Fine. No guarantee on who I can get to go on such short notice, but I’m sure I can round up a few.”

  His shoulders visibly relax. “Thank God. I didn’t want to seem lame to my client, either. You are a life saver.”

  I want to say, “No, you are,” but instead smile sweetly. “Not a problem. I guess I should have them over by nine, then?”

  He takes a long sip of his smoothie. “That would be perfect, and why don’t you bring what’s-his-name, too?”

  I chew the inside of my cheek, knowing exactly whom he means. Rich. Ever since Josh first met Rich and heard his credentials and ambitions, my brother has been in parental figure mode. He immediately approved Rich as my next suitor.

  Rich does hold a special place in my heart, but I don’t know if he fills the void.

  “I’ll see if he wants to come.”

  “Perfect.” Josh gives me another toothy, accomplished grin. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks again, sis. It’ll be a great night. Awesome smoothie, by the way.”

  I wave him off and decide it’s time I get back to work.

  “I better get going. I’ll see you at home . . . and remember . . .” I make one final moment of eye contact with him as he says, “You are a life saver.”

  “Does that actually ever work on your clientele? Because I think you need to work on it.”

  Shaking his head, and with a smirk plastered to his face, he makes his way out.

  Tucker is quick to capitalize on the moment. “You should totally invite me, too!”

  Always the eavesdropper, but at least I can’t help my smile.