Текст книги "Devious Minds"
Автор книги: K. F. Germaine
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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ever heard the joke about the DJ who walked into the doghouse?
No?
Well, you’re about to, and I’m sure the punch line will be spectacular.
Allison paced the sidewalk. “What if they kick us out, Sydney? Katharine’s in there.” Hitting a pothole hidden in the darkness, she tumbled forward, and I grabbed her arm to keep her steady.
“Pledges aren’t allowed in the doghouse. Her rules. What if she sees me? Oh my God.”
“I thought you were in already, Allison? Rush has been over for a week.”
Releasing her arm, I studied the house. Horrible music—for shame, Peters—oozed from the every surface of the sprawling Craftsman bachelor pad. Wicker furniture sat on the wide front porch, fenced in by sturdy white columns. It all looked inviting, but I was certain under black light that scratchy wicker would be dirtier than brothel upholstery.
“Not for me, Sydney… Katharine said I’m on probation.”
I frowned, thinking about how to get my hands on a copy of those Greek bylaws. “Allison, relax. We look like total sluts.” I pulled down my dress, which I swear was made of plastic wrap. “They would be total losers to kick us out, even if Katharine puts up a fight.”
“What if she kicks me out, Syd?” Allison started to walk up the street toward my truck. “We need to go. Let’s go.”
“Allison,” I whisper-yelled at her back. “Get your scrawny ass back here right now. What about Jack?”
After a dramatic freeze in the moonlight, Allison twisted around and walked back. She looked up at the house just as a couple girls stumbled through the doors, giggling and hanging on one another. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me up the porch steps.
We entered the living room, and it was packed. You could barely walk, which could be viewed as a blessing or a curse. You could blend in, but no speedy getaways if Peters or Katharine saw us.
“I can fit through there,” Allison whispered in my ear, pointing to a three-inch crevice between two groups of people. “You can’t.” Remind me to punch her in the throat later. “I’ll go see if I can find Jack. You stay in here in case he comes by.”
I nodded and leaned against the wall.
“Here, Syd.” She grabbed an unopened beer off the console table near the door. “Drink something or you’ll look out of place. Don’t make eye contact with anyone, especially Katharine.”
I nodded again as Allison’s bones were reduced to rubber and she easily slid through the narrow crack. This would have been resolved already if Jack were talking to me. My last message from him was about Peters’s wishes for a slow, painful death by Bieber.
It didn’t matter anymore. Tomorrow, Sunday Lane, Sydney Porter, would be front-page news. I’d have to move out of state, lose my summer dream job, and end up being the events coordinator at a local nursing home. I’d play oldies until five PM and then wheel them one by one back to their rooms, reminding them to take their meds. Finally, I’d go back to my low-rent studio apartment, eat a bowl of Top Ramen, and pet my seven cats.
Yes, I had it all planned out.
A minute later, I felt the heat from a heavy stare and looked up. Peters was opposite the room, and his stare locked on me like a laser beam slashing through the crowd. He was taking slow and steady breaths and his jaw clenched tightly on each inhale. I couldn’t read his expression, but I knew it wasn’t rage. I’d seen it once before.
Two years earlier…
“Are you a wizard? Why do you have an entire shoe box full of stones and crystals?”
Peters grabbed the lid from my hands and replaced it over the box. “My mother sends them to me. It’s kind of her thing.”
Sitting on the bed opposite his, I slipped off my shoes and lay down. “Do you have a roommate?”
“I lucked out this year,” he answered, eyes roaming over my horizontal frame. “I wasn’t assigned one, so I get both beds.”
“I’d push them together and make a full-size,” I said, flipping on my side.
I propped my elbow on the pillow and held up my head. “That way when you’re done banging chicks, you can just nudge them over to the other twin, push it across the room, and be like, ‘Thanks… but I like to sleep alone. Football players don’t cuddle. It obstructs blood flow to our extremities. We need to be in top form when our asses are getting kicked on the field.’”
He cracked a smile and reached under his bed, producing a bottle of Jameson. “Ha-ha. That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that next time.”
He stared at me for a minute, trying to get a grip on what I’d just said. What? I was just a girl helping him plot his moves with other girls.
I sat up as his trembling hand poured whiskey into two plastic cups. Handing one to me, he waited for a cheers before taking our first sip.
“To new comrades,” he announced as we clinked plastic and took a sip. “You haven’t asked for my name.”
“I know your name. It’s Gray Peters. Who doesn’t know your name… little prince?” I joked, and his flushed cheeks rose to an embarrassing smile. “I’m just joking. I read it on your dorm door, and since you’re the only one in here, I deduced you are the famous Gray Peters.”
Gray was cute. Scratch that. He was gorgeous. The moment I walked into the athletic dorm, he’d caught my eye. He wasn’t swaggering around the hall like the other males, puffing out their chests, delivering smiles they thought would leave Brittany, Megan, and me in a wet, hot puddle on the floor.
While all his buddies stood there checking out my ass, famed QB Gray Peters’s eyes never fell below my chin, which had me both flustered and surprised.
“I like Tool,” he’d said, noticing the Tool patch sewn onto my duffle bag. “Did you see them play this summer at the Arlene Schnitzler Concert Hall? My brother and I went. What’s your favorite song? Mine’s ‘Schism.’”
I paused for a minute, trying to relearn English, but my tongue instantly thickened, and I couldn’t make it budge.
“Well, I guess everyone likes Schism,” he went on after releasing a nervous, ragged breath. “That was a stupid question. I’m an idiot.”
Yes, but a cute idiot with strong arms and a broad, firm chest. Man, I was as bad as the swaggering meatheads—objectifying this poor schmuck.
“That looks heavy,” he’d commented, motioning to my duffle bag. “May I offer my assistance carrying it to the guest quarters, madam?” he’d said in a BBC-worthy rendition of an old British butler. Then he chuckled at his own cheesy comment, slammed his hands into his jean pockets, and rocked back and forth on his heels like a little boy.
Finally, I got my thick tongue to work. I meant to say yes, but what came out was the low growl of a wolf ready to pounce on its prey. Stupid, Sydney. Instead of recovering gracefully, I ran for the open elevator doors and repeatedly pushed the up button. Once in the safety of the metal box, I slid down against the wall and let out a true cheerleader-worthy squeal. Gray Peters had talked to me. Holy shit.
And now I was sitting in his dorm room drinking whiskey. Unreal.
“Famous?” Gray smiled and moved back on this bed. “Wow.”
“Yeah, the famous football team statistician Gray Peters. You just sit on the bench and crunch numbers, calculate the odds, you know.”
He laughed and took another sip. “You’re funny, Sydney Fu.”
We both started laughing, and I spotted a guitar in the corner. “You play?” I grabbed the guitar off its stand and handed it to Peters. He nodded, took it out of my hand, and began strumming.
It was a song I recognized, and he botched one of the notes. “That’s an E not an F, Peters.” I crossed over to his bed and sat leaning against the wall next to him.
Peters allowed me to move his fingers across the fret board, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was searing my face off with a heavy, heated stare. At that moment, I felt brave. I had him in a corner, and I could leave now or take this a step further. Should I take this a step further? It was now or never with Gray Peters. I knew that much.
“Tell me three things that are true about you, Sydney Fu, car thief and jokester. Just three things.” His voice was low and husky in my ear, and I dropped my hand from the guitar, resting it on his lap.
“I’m eighteen.” I stood, walked over the door, and pushed it closed.
“I hate wearing dresses.” I pulled my dress over my head, and he swallowed, taking in my frame. “And I hate cuddling.”
Before I knew it, Peters plowed through the dancing crowd, heading straight for me with fierce determination. I held my breath, watching, but two blondes made it to me first.
“Sanwicha Hamm?” Tina’s voice cut into my ear as she stepped in front of me. Tiffany joined her side, and they gave me another onceover.
Peters stopped just behind them. He crossed his arms over his fleece-clad chest but didn’t say a word. His eyes flickered with irritation, but surprisingly not at me. He was staring at the Tiffany.
“What are you doing here?” Tiffany said, lifting her hand to touch the strap of my cheap dress. “Here to profess your undying love for Jack Porter, I presume. Well, I think it’s a little too late for that. Theresa’s already boning him in one of the rooms.”
My heart sank so low I was sure it slipped out of me and landed on the sticky hardwood floor.
What have I done?
“Which room?” I said coolly, looking past them at Peters. I couldn’t interpret the expression on his face as he glanced between two-thirds of the Shrieking T’s and myself.
“This party’s invite only,” Tiffany answered, pointing to the front door. “You need to leave.”
“I invited her.” Peters’s cool voice interrupted my racing heart. “Sanwicha is on the guest list.” He reached between them and grabbed my hand.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“What are you doing?” Sydney yelled as I pulled her down the crowded hallway.
I began opening every door on our way down, looking for Jack. “You said you were looking for Jack, Sydney. So let’s look for Jack. You want to interrupt his good time, so let’s make this thing official and embarrass him,” I growled out just as her hand slipped through my grip.
“Stop!” she yelled and leaned back against the hallway wall. “Just stop, Peters. I just need to find Jack. He’s not answering my calls. I know he’s somewhere with Theresa.” Sydney closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll be out of here in ten minutes. Just let me look around. Then you can go back to hating me and wishing I’d die from a compact disc laceration.”
Fuck me.
When I saw Sydney leaning against my living room wall, a million emotions ripped through my body. She was annoying. She was manipulative. She was my enemy. But she was my enemy. When the Shrieking T’s began to circle her like vultures, I had to intervene.
Unshed tears appeared at the corners of her eyes, and I instinctively laid a forearm next to her head and cupped the side of her face. “Don’t cry… just don’t.”
“I’m not.”
I brushed my thumb under her eyes, wiping away the evidence, but she didn’t flinch. She let me smooth her hair from her forehead, and I felt her soften under my touch. “I could never hate you, Sydney. We fight. That’s what we do. I make empty threats from the back of the bus after waking up with glitter in my eye and a thong on my head.”
Eyes still closed, she smiled just slightly. Just enough to give me hope.
“I know you talked to Coach. You got me out of punishment because you fessed up, and thank you for the money. I’m not rich, and my parents do work hard… This is how we play, Sydney. It’s Porter and Peters at one another’s throats.” I stroked my thumb from her face to throat, and she exhaled, slightly parting her lips. They looked soft and smooth and dewy. I desperately wanted to pull them into mine and taste her.
“I could never hate you, Sydney,” I repeated myself, now entranced.
“Trust me. If you don’t hate me now, you’re going to hate me soon enough,” she whispered, her chest heaving into mine on each breath. “I’m a terrible person, and it’s all coming to a head tomorrow.” She looked up at me with her big, brown Bambi eyes. “Jack loves Allison. They’re supposed to be each other’s firsts. Not Theresa. Allison.”
I knew Sydney had a soft side. She was all spikes and acid on the outside, but inside she was vulnerable. If it took every last fiber of my being, I’d break down that guarded heart, swinging elbows just to get in. “Let’s find him, then… together. I like a happy ending as much as the next guy.”
She laughed softly. “I bet you do, Peters.”
I winked and grabbed her hand, pulling her down the hallway.
I have a lock on my door, so you’d have to be a magician to gain access. Chance was in his room, making out with some redhead. “Get the fuck out!” he screamed, tossing a video game cartridge at my head. Fernando’s room was clear. No one was stupid enough to mess around in there.
When we couldn’t find them in the den or the kitchen or the living room, I knew there was one place left—the garage.
“It’s freezing in here,” Sydney said, squeezing my hand tightly. “I guess they left the house.”
When she dropped my hand, I felt like I was missing a limb. Like an important piece of me had just vanished, and I formed a fist, holding on to her warmth. Sydney walked around the garage in a daze and stopped by the Porsche. “Suddenly, I have hankering for tacos,” she said quietly, running her hand along the open roof edge.
“Yeah. Still working on the smell.” I grabbed two beers from the garage fridge. “Beer?” I asked, already tossing it at her head.
With ninja reflexes, Sydney grabbed the can midair, popped open the top, and perched against the hood. I stayed on the other side of the car, admiring the curve of her back. When I noticed her legs quivering against the cool metal, I removed my fleece, throwing it at her from behind.
She snatched it as it slid past, folded it, and laid it next to her. “You don’t want me to wear this, Peters.” She smoothed the fabric with her hand. “I’m serious. My life is over tomorrow. Sydney Porter will be banished from campus. A mob of angry villagers will have stormed my dorm room with torches in their hands, chanting, ‘Hand over the witch.’
“And Allison.” She paused, drawing in a deep breath. “Allison will gladly open the door and point to me huddled in the corner. She’ll say, ‘Try not to splatter blood on my prom corsages, will you?’”
“Now don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” Rounding the Porsche, I unfolded the fleece and spread it over her. “Even for you?” I tucked the sides under her legs to keep her warm.
“No.” She shook her head and lifted her beer to her lips. “Because no matter what happens, I’m the one who loses. There are no winners in this game, Peters.” She took a sip and slowly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
The spark was gone from her eyes. Shit, I’d done this to Sydney. I’d taken this vibrant girl and crushed her until she could hardly recognize herself. Until she compromised her beliefs so much she’d be willing to pimp out her own brother for his sake and hers. I’d pushed her too far.
The glow of the streetlights seeped through the small garage door windows and dappled across her worried eyes. Her skin was pricked with a million goose bumps, and I just wanted to hold her. Instead, I rubbed my hands together and slid my warm palms over her biceps. “Who said you can’t win, Sydney?”
“What do you mean?” She stretched out her forearms, letting my hands slide down to her wrists. When I lingered over her piano tattoo, she locked eyes with me. “What are you doing, Peters?”
I shook my head because, really, I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was Sydney was in pain. Pain I caused. I wanted her to curl up in my arms so I could tell her everything would be all right. No one would ever know her secret. I would have never let it get that far.
I held on to her hand as I pulled out my phone and sent Jack a text.
“Send Allison a message that Jack is in the garage,” I said. Then I circled an arm around her waist and slid her down the hood until she sank against my shoulder. Nudging aside her spice-filled hair with my nose, I brushed my lips across her ear. “I’ll do this favor for you, but you have to do me a favor.”
“Where do you get off, Peters?” she whispered, leaving a line of hot moisture across my jawline. “A favor? I can only guess what you want.”
“I don’t want sex,” I whispered, but my body was throbbing. I wanted to lay her across this hood and explore every last inch of her. “I want to put our past behind us. I want to be your friend.”
“You won’t want to be my friend tomorrow.” She turned her head until our faces swept past each other’s. “Trust me.”
“Then be my friend just for tonight.” Unable to stop myself, I leaned in, rolling my forehead against hers. When our skin made contact, Sydney skimmed my mouth with those corpulent pink lips. In complete and perfect silence, we inhaled the same air, dousing one another with scorched breaths, which were growing more urgent by the millisecond.
I slowly raised a hand to her chin, stroking a thumb across her bottom lip. She was beautiful. She had no idea the power she had over a man, and it made me want her even more. Under my touch, Sydney closed her eyes and relaxed her lips until the tip of my finger was moist.
“Friends don’t touch like this, Peters.”
“Maybe they should.” I pulled her toward me, and she parted her lips. I traced her mouth with mine, ready to take her just as the main door to the garage swung open.
I panicked.
Yanking Sydney off the hood, I watched as she landed in a thump against the concrete floor. Then I dropped down beside her.
“What the hell?” she whispered, rubbing the back of her skull.
“Gray?” Jack’s voice came from the doorway. “Gray?”
Before Sydney could mutter another word, the clicking of heels came from Jack’s direction.
“There you are, Jack!” Allison’s honeyed voice shot through the garage. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought… I thought you’d be with Theresa Denton.”
I motioned for Sydney to crawl behind the stacked rocket dog boxes. She turned on her knees, and I followed, staring right into her beautiful ass—the ass of my comrade. Behind the protection of a bratwurst wall, we both sat cross-legged, facing one another, and listened.
“I was in the house. I just spent thirty minutes in the bathroom, washing my shirt. It’s my favorite, so I whipped up an old concoction my grandmother told me about. Works like a charm.” Jack let out a nervous chuckle.
“But I did see Theresa. She’s acting weird tonight. I think she lost a contact lens because she asked for my help in Fernando’s bedroom, and then she dropped down on her hands and knees. So I did too, but I couldn’t find anything on the floor. When I looked up, she was super angry and dumped her drink all over me, yelling something about how I could have a sandwich if I wanted.”
Sydney and I grabbed each other’s forearms and stifled our laughter.
God, she was brilliant. Her cheeks always formed perfect round circles when she smiled. Those eyes, they’d haunt any man’s dreams, and sometimes their nightmares, depending on the situation.
“What was that?” Allison’s voice shot out from behind the boxes, and we both tightened our mouths.
“Probably rats,” Jack responded, and I raised my nose, twitching it around to make Sydney laugh. She did, covering her mouth. I couldn’t help it. Sydney had so much personality that every time I made her laugh or smile, I felt like I’d won an Oscar. Screw the Heisman.
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight. I mean, I would have invited you myself, but I thought Katharine was dead set against pledges being here. Do you want to go back inside?”
Allison let out a long sigh. “She is, and I do want to go inside, but Katharine will punch me in the uterus if I do. She’s threatened all off us with uterus jabs so we can’t make Kappa babies to pledge in twenty years.”
Sydney’s eyes grew wide and she made a fist, slamming it into the palm of her other hand. “I’ve got a sterilization trick for Katharine, but it doesn’t involve a blow to the uterus,” she whispered, and I covered her mouth with my hand.
She stuck out her tongue and licked my palm. I chuckled and lowered it in her lap—too close to her nether region—so I quickly started to drag it away. But before I could, Sydney grabbed it back, holding it tightly, and inched forward until our knees touched.
We were now face to face in my freezing garage, hidden behind the dark shadows offered by thirteen hundred rocket dogs (Fernando already ate a box), and there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
“Well, we can sit in Gray’s car,” Jack said, opening the door and slamming it shut. “Gray lets me drive it all the time. You know, we’re cool like that.”
Annoyed, I scrunched up my face, and Sydney squeezed my hand, still wearing a huge smile.
“Here, Ally, you’re cold. Please take my jacket. I really think you should eat more carbohydrates. You’re so thin and beautiful, but it’s good to have some extra weight in the winter.”
Sydney threw her head back and shook it in a silent laugh. When she lowered it back down, a tear escaped her eye, and I brushed it off with the back of my hand.
I couldn’t tell what kind of tear it was. A happy tear? A sad tear? Maybe a little of both. All I knew was I never wanted to make Sydney cry again, because her face full of any tears would be too much for me to handle.
“Jack,” Allison said, clearing her throat, “I’ve really liked hanging out with you over the last few weeks. I’d like for us to go out. Like on a real date. Outside of school and outside of the library.”
“Yes,” Jack quickly replied with clear and distinct confidence. “I’ve been wanting that since the moment I laid eyes on you, Ally. You’re the smartest, sweetest, and most hygienic girl on this campus. I would love to take you out.”
Sydney lifted her arms and jokingly sniffed her armpits, but that beaming smile stayed plastered on her face. It quickly dropped when smacking noises began from the front seat of my car.
“Do me a favor, Peters,” she leaned in and whispered, pointing to a toolbox set in the corner of the garage. “Pick up a wrench and knock me unconscious. I can’t live with myself if I hear my brother lose his virginity.”
I smiled and lifted my hands to cover her ears. “Can you hear me?”
She shook her head and whispered, “Now’s the time to tell me to go to hell, Peters. Your big meat paws are thick. I can’t hear shit.”
“You smell like mayonnaise left out in the sun too long, Sinister.” I started off with a childish low blow just to test her. She smiled, flashing me a thumbs-up.
“One of your breasts is bigger than the other.” Her left.
Another thumbs-up.
The smacking noises grew at a steady pace, and I made a note to have Jack detail it later. Pressing my palms down against her ears, I closed my eyes. Because if DJ couldn’t hear and QB couldn’t see, the next words out of my mouth wouldn’t be real.
“I love you, Sydney Porter.”
When I opened them, she gave me another thumbs-up.
Then she said, “I loathe you too, Gray Peters.”
