Текст книги "Taint"

Автор книги: S. L. Jennings

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

I WAIT FOR them to file in and take their seats, noting the questioning looks as they take in the new additions to the room. It sinks in for a few, and curiosity turns into shock.

Ah, there it is. The pitter-patter of my little black heart. It’s been a while, old friend.

It's like that zombie romance movie, as ridiculous as it sounds. The more I hang around Allison, the more alive I feel. The dark coldness of my heart begins to heat and bloom into something vital, and for once, I feel…normal. Like somehow, I belong.

The only difference is, I don't want to belong. Not really. I don't want to fit into her world. I don’t want to be defined by the media’s perception of me, or an image cooked up by my publicist. I’ve never been good at coloring inside the lines, and I won’t start now for some married chick I’ve known for five minutes.

That’s why I know it’s better this way. I’m not the good guy. To be honest, I’m the villain. Good guys wouldn’t do what I’m about to.

“Ladies, we have an exciting session for you today. I know you’re wondering about the changes to our regular instruction space. Well, today we have a special demonstration for you.” I turn to the young lady on my right and place my hand on the small of her back. “This is Jewel. And this is her colleague, Candi. And they are going to show you the art of the striptease.”

“You want us to be strippers?” Lorinda Cosgrove shrieks. She’s lost the ugly moo-moos and cardigans and traded them for something more form fitting and chic. She’s learning. Whether she wants to admit it or not, it’s starting to sink in.

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s going to happen with or without your consent. Men like strippers. They go to strip clubs. They get lap dances. Now you can either cry about it or learn to do it yourself. And, get an inside glimpse of what is so damn enticing about exotic dancers. Now, I suggest you pay attention, because during our final review, you’ll be asked to do a little striptease…for me.”

“No way,” Shayla pipes up. “There’s no way I’m taking my clothes off for another man.”

“Not necessary, Mrs. Adkins. It’s all about the journey, not the destination. The tease of a woman losing her clothing. Anticipation.Do you know how fucking hot that makes us? Waiting, hoping, praying that you’ll show us just an inch of that smooth, silky skin?

“I’ve showed you how to get our attention, and now I’m going to show you how to keep it. Anticipation is what keeps us at home, dick hard, wanting you.Understand?”

They all answer with looks of shock and interest, so I fish out the tiny remote in my pocket and press a button. Booming bass lines and drumbeats fill the room, accompanied by the voice of Justin Timberlake.

Yeah. I put on JT.

Bitches love JT.

“Ladies?”

At my word, both Jewel and Candi begin to sway side to side, rolling their hips with every move. Jewel slowly makes her way to the pole situated in the center of the room, her 6-inch heels keeping in time with the beat. Candi slides over an empty chair and turns to me to rake her fingers over my chest. She gives me a naughty smile before biting her red, bottom lip, then pushes me back to sit in the chair that happens to be facing the makeshift stage. She doesn’t look away. Her big, brown eyes stay locked on mine, giving me her full attention. Making me feel like I am the only man in the world that makes her wet.

Candi’s red-tipped acrylic nails slide down my chest to my stomach. Her fingers explore the rigid planes of my abs through my white linen shirt, and she licks her lips in approval.

“Oooh, baby, you’re so hard here,” she coos. “I wonder where else you’re hard.”

The line is laughable, but she knows that’s exactly the kind of shit that simple-minded fuckers want to hear. Her hands drift down to my upper thighs, just a breath from my cock. Her eyes flick down to my lap then back up, mischief gleaming behind dark eyeliner and heavy mascara. I lift a brow, challenging her. If she wants it, she has to come get it.

Candi giggles and her hands trail down the tops of my thighs before she stands upright. Hungry eyes still locked on mine, she begins to move, her own hands sliding over her curves. She palms her breasts, giving them a squeeze before caressing her flat, bare stomach.

I watch her as she dances for me in her sexy red lingerie, yet all I can think about is how daring that color would look on Ally accompanied with her red hair. How coy and mischievous she would act in front of me, moving those hips to the music. I close my eyes for a few beats, trying to blink away these thoughts and just focus on my job. And right now, my job consists of sitting back and enjoying a striptease. Not fantasizing about another man’s wife.

Candi can see the distance in my gaze and moves to stand between my legs. Body writhing, she reaches to her back to unhook her lace bra, letting it fall to the floor. Perfectly round DDs look back at me, not even drooping an inch with the lack of support. She cups her breasts and runs her fingers over her hard, light brown nipples. “Mmmm,” she moans, eyes nearly closed. “I want you to touch me.”

I nod, but I don’t give her what she desires. Instead, I look over at Jewel just as she slides down the pole, holding herself up only by her thighs. She spins, platinum blonde hair whipping around her face dramatically. She feels my gaze and looks to me, her expression burning hot and sultry. And with Candi now straddling my thighs, those perfect, doctor-designed tits bouncing in my face, Jewel performs just for me.

This is every man’s dream—a topless woman riding his lap while another dry-humps a long, hard pole. I watch them, but I don’t seethem. In many ways, I’m no different than Candi and Jewel. We provide a service that is surrounded by sex. I know their angle. I know the only thing that truly gets them hot is cash. It’s the same thing that motivates me.

They take their clothes off. I encourage women to do the same.

Jewel steps away from the pole and makes her way to Candi, who is still dancing, her back to my front. She grinds her ass on my dick, stirring it from rest, and I grip her hips, guiding her erotic movements. Jewel moves in close, pressing her bare breasts against Candi’s, and they both moan. Their hands tangle in each other’s hair, caressing hot, puckered skin and humid lace. They’re putting on a show, touching each other with over-exaggerated wonder and desire.

For their final act, Jewel pushes Candi back to rest on my chest, her face beside mine. Then her tongue snakes out, licking Candi’s cherry lips before delving into her eager mouth. The kiss lasts for several seconds, both sets of their hands touching me, and each other, in ecstasy. Then, as if on cue, they stand upright, baring their near nude bodies shamelessly.

Eleven sets of eyes stare back in bewilderment.

Then, all at once, as if their brains have just simultaneously processed what they’ve just seen, questions, comments, and even expletives drown out JT.

“You want us to do that?”

“Oh my God, there’s no way I’m kissing a woman!”

“Do we really have to take off our bras?”

“Hell no! My family would kill me!”

“I can’t believe my husband likes that crap!”

“Wow, that was kinda hot!”

I put my palms up, hushing their flustered chatter to a murmur. “Ladies, I assure you—you will not be required to take off your clothes for me. But let me remind you that I have already seen each and every one of you in lingerie. Some less than others. So please do yourself a favor and kill the false modesty. I probably know the female body better than you do.”

A sardonic snort grabs my attention, and my eyes reflexively seek Allison. She looks back at me, her expression unreadable, and shakes her head slowly. I can’t tell if she genuinely disapproves or is amused. I look away, telling myself that it’s not my concern to find out.

“For the rest of the afternoon, Candi and Jewel will work with you personally on the art of anticipation. I’ll oversee it, but please think of me as merely a silent shadow. You have no reason to be coy with me. This is nothing, compared to what you’ll do for me over the next few weeks.”

I find Ally’s eyes again, her unblinking stare sparked with something new. Something dark and sultry. Something that’s answering my challenge with a rousing, “Hell yes!”

Maybe the graceful, meek gazelle that I thought I saw on Day One is not a gazelle at all. She is fierce and sexy. Confident yet restrained. I just need to get close enough to uncage her inner beast.

God, I love my job.

CANDI AND JEWEL divide the ladies up into two groups. They start out slow, demonstrating a simple, seductive hip roll before moving onto some racier moves. The ladies look on at the sidelines, too embarrassed to join in. I’m not surprised. It always takes a little time and gentle coaxing to break them out of their shells. Luckily for them, breaking them is my specialty.

I step up closer to Maryanne Carrington, pressing my front into her backside. She startles at first, then melts into me as soon as she feels my breath at her neck and my voice in her ear.

“Relax, love. You’re alright. I’ve got you,” I say just for her. I begin to sway my hips, gripping her sides and guiding her body to flow with mine. She’s stiff at first, but at the feel of my firm touch and my voice gently consoling her, her limbs loosen, and she submits to me. I work her body with mine, her softness giving into my hard plains. She sighs and nearly sags against me, her head rolling back to rest on my shoulder.

“Do you feel sexy in my arms, Maryanne?” I ask, my lips at her ear.

“Oh, yes. Oh, God yes,” she pants.

“Good. I want you to feel sexy. You know why?”

“Nuh uh.”

“If you feel sexy, you look sexy. I need you to feel like this all the time. I need you to own it. And the only way you can do that, is if you own your sexuality.” I run my hands from her round hips to the front of her stomach. She shivers and presses in closer to me. “This is part of it. This is just taking that inner sex kitten and showing her how to display her goods. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I can do that for you.”

“Good girl. Now you see Jewel there?”

“Yes…?”

“See how beautiful she is? See how sexy? You like the way she moves, don’t you, Maryanne?”

“Um…uh…” Her body goes rigid against mine, but I keep my hands on her, manipulating it to heavy drumbeats.

“Don’t lie. You like it, don’t you? You wish you could move like that.” I can feel every eye on us, but I keep my focus on her. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes,” she stammers. “I do.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear.” My gaze flicks up to Jewel, and she’s already moving into place, coming to stand beside me. I place Maryanne into her skilled hands without missing a beat. We’ve done this a dozen times—seeking out the most resistant client and breaking her down. The other women will soon follow suit.

I step back, as Jewel shows Maryanne how to use her body like only a woman can—to drive men fucking crazy.

I feel her stare on me. I can hear the unspoken questions and visualize her forehead dimpled in frustration. But I don’t look at her. If I do, she’ll see it in me. She’ll see what I was really thinking while my hands slid up Maryanne’s hips. She’ll hear whose name I really wanted to whisper, my voice raspy and thick. All my secrets will be laid bare for the entire world to see. And while I may not give two shits about appearances, I do care about my reputation. It’s all I have.

So I walk until I’m out of those four walls, away from those excited voices and those treacherous thoughts that are so easily displayed whenever I look at her.

Away from that urge to smile whenever she smiles, and laugh whenever she laughs.

I step into my home just as the cleaning staff is finishing up. I dismiss them brusquely, needing to be alone in my thoughts and misery.

I told myself I wouldn’t do this again. I’d be stronger than this. Yet, even as I think it, I’m unbuckling my slacks and yanking them down, my briefs quickly following. I groan as cool air envelops my burning hot flesh.

So hard. So damn hard it hurts.

I wrap a hand around my cock and squeeze, prolonging the needy ache. Life pumps through it, tortured by the promise of a relieving death. I stroke, feeling the veins slide underneath my thin, taut skin.

I can’t even think about how wrong this is. Never in my life have I had to jerk off in the middle of the day, and I damn sure haven’t done it in the middle of a session. I’ve never had to. But Allison…she has me off my game. Thinking about shit I shouldn’t be thinking. Doing things I shouldn’t be doing. And right now, I just need to release it. I need to purge it from my body like a sickness, so I can get better. So I can get back to being me.

I try. Fuck knows I try. I rub my shit raw like a man possessed, urging the madness from my bones. But relief never comes. Fire doesn’t erupt from deep in my gut. It just stays and kindles, building and burning to the point of pain.

With a growl, I stop, frustrated at my body’s failure to launch. I can’t do this. I can’t go on like this. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Fuck her. Fuck her and get it out of your system.

I shake the tiny voice from my head and busy myself by straightening my clothes.

Just do it. She wants it. You know she does.

I need water. Maybe I’m dehydrated. I make my way to the kitchen and down a glass of water. I refill seconds later. I’ll flush it out of me. I’ll drown this shit and move on.

You deserve her. Not him. YOU.

“FUCK!” I slam the glass down into the sink basin, shattering it into a million, tiny shards. I can’t do this. I can’t survive like this for another four weeks.

I pull out my phone and send a quick text.

Something came up.

Take over for me.

Then you and Jewel come see me when you’re done.

xx

IT’S COOLER TONIGHT, and I can smell rain in the distance. Still, I dive into the pool, the cold water stinging my skin and paralyzing my joints. I swim through it, feeling my bones and muscles awaken. It’s easier now that the heaviness in my gut isn’t weighing me down. I can be mindless here. I can let the water drown the shame and wash away their scent. I know I have no reason to feel bad; I did nothing wrong or out of character. I did what any 29-year-old man would do with two exotic dancers in his home. I did what I’ve done before.

Candi and Jewel have been associates of mine for years. The three of us hooked up during some of my more formidable years and kept in touch. When it came time to enlist help with the program, I knew they were the ones for the job.

I should have cut off all physical association then, and I had, for the most part. But every so often, we’d have a few too many glasses of champagne, and we’d fall back into that familiar pattern—them fucking me, me fucking them and them fucking each other while I watch, dick in hand.

Don’t look so surprised. Yeah, I sleep with strippers. Big deal.What do you expect me to do with them? Play pinochle?

See, the great thing about Candi and Jewel is that business never blurred into pleasure. They’d do their job, we’d have a drink after, and most times, they’d leave unsexed and well paid for their professional services.

This was not one of those times.

They did as I had asked, teaching the women their signature moves before dismissing them for the evening. Then they were at my door with a chilled bottle of Dom and twin wicked gleams burning in their eyes.

“You look tense,” Candi said, stepping inside. She eased my suit jacket from my shoulders and began to knead. Jewel popped the cork without spilling a single drop.

“I saw it too. You seem…different. Not as focused,” she chimed in.

“Frustrated,” Candi added.

Jewel returned to our sides with glasses of champagne. I downed mine in two gulps. “Shut up. And take off your clothes.”

There was no prelude required between us three. I didn’t even expect them to do their usual song and dance to get me hot. They know what turns me on just as I know how to get them off.

And that’s what I did.

There, in the middle of my living room, I bent Candi over the arm of the couch and took her from behind while finger-fucking Jewel. Candi came quick, like always. Just a stroke of her clit while giving it to her deep and fast, and she shattered beneath me in minutes. Jewel wanted to play. She straddled my lap, my latex-sheathed dick still glistening with Candi’s sugary wetness, and mounted me. She moaned loudly, feeling her hypersensitive mound creating friction against my pubic bone. Candi sucked her friend’s bouncing tits and played with her ass until I felt her insides tighten and shiver. Then she was screaming, crying my name so loudly I had to cover her mouth with one hand, while I wrapped the other around her waist and bounced her hard, up and down on me, prolonging her orgasm.

When her cries quieted to whines, she dismounted and pulled off the condom. Then she and Candi took turns sucking me off, moaning against my dick, as they tasted themselves in the trickles that had slid down to my balls.

And that was it. No romance. No cuddling. Not even any flirty conversation. Just direct, to-the-point sex. We shared a laugh when Candi accidently put on Jewel’s panties in her hazy afterglow. We made plans for next season’s session. Then they were gone. Just like everyone else in the revolving door of my life.

And now…now I’m conflicted about it. Like I’ve been unfaithful or disloyal to someone. But to who? Myself? Shit, if anything, I’m pretty damn pleased with myself. And feel a helluva lot better physically. Yet, something deep inside me aches with regret. I can feel the loneliness closing in, squeezing my chest. I pant and wheeze with every stroke, but I don’t stop. I don’t give in to the water. I won’t let it defeat me.

“YOU’RE WET.”

I keep my eyes to the sky. “Yeah.”

“But it’s chilly out here. You have to be freezing.”

“I’m fine.” For the most part, I am. I’ve gotten used to swimming long after sundown, since many of the women like to sunbathe during the day. Plus, I’m too damn frustrated to feel anything else.

I hear the shuffling of Allison’s sandals moving closer to me. And before I can lift my head to see what she’s doing, she lays a sweater over my damp body. Her scent surrounds me, digging its way into my skin and hair… into me.She’s not only affecting me, she’s infecting me.

I want to brush off her sweater, but I know it’d hurt her feelings. She’s been rejected enough, and she doesn’t need me pouring salt in the wound. And it’s not her fault that I’m one rub-and-tug away from being downright infatuated with her.

“You left early today,” she says, sitting in the lounger beside mine.

“Had to take care of something.” I still don’t look at her. I don’t even thank her for the sweater. So damn conflicted by my feelings for her. Yet, so frustrated with myself for harboring this sickness—this affliction—that forces me to be a somewhat decent human being and do the right thing. I don’t want to hurt her, but I know I will eventually. There is no other option.

“Interesting class today.”

“Yeah.”

I feel her turn towards me. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I…did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“You just seem…” Distant. Cold. Exactly what I should have been all along.

“A lot on my mind.” That’s a lie. Now that I don’t have any baby batter on the brain, my head is completely clear, and I can think somewhat rationally again. I can see how much of a mistake it is for us to carry on like this. She’ll get attached. I’ll let her. And then she’ll go back to her husband. And where will that leave me?

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Ok.”

It’s quiet for a while, and I mentally prepare for her to get up and leave. When she shuffles to her feet, I close my eyes to cushion the blow of abandonment. Then I hear a loud splash into the water, causing my eyes to pop open. I’m on my feet before I can even register what’s happened.

“Holy shit, it’s cold!” Allison exclaims, teeth chattering. Her hair is soaked, sticking to her face and neck, and her dress is completely immersed in water. This upper-crust princess who’s probably never even worn the same garment twice, has just jumped in the pool fully clothed. She smiles up at me as she wades toward the edge.

“Are you insane? It’s cold out here! You’ll get sick!” I say, waving my hands animatedly.

“Says the guy in dripping wet shorts and nothing else.”

“Seriously, Ally. You’ll catch a cold. It’s my job to keep you all safe and comfortable, and right now, you can’t possibly be either. Please don’t make it impossible to do my job.”

She rolls her eyes and splashes water in my direction. “Fine, fine. Spread on the guilt like mustard. I see how it is.” She wades to the ladder where I wait for her, arm outstretched, prepared to pull her into my arms – ahem, I mean, pull her out of the pool. Yeah, yeah, that’s right.

“Give me your hand,” I demand brusquely, irritated at her immaturity. A day ago, her playfulness was endearing. Now it’s just a hassle.

She does as I say, those big, doe eyes locked onto mine, and goes to take a step on the ladder, steadying her assent with her hand in mine. And just as I think she’s pulling herself up onto dry land, she pulls back. Hard. Harder than a little thing like her possibly should. Before our bodies collide, she jumps back to her right, giggling hysterically.

Of course, all this is going down as I lose my footing at the edge of the pool and plummet, quite ungracefully, into the chilly water. I can still hear her laughing as my face and chest crack the surface with a splash.

“Are you crazy?” I shout, sputtering a mouthful of chlorine.

“Yes!” she croaks between chuckles.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, don’t you?” I ask, dropping my voice an octave. I can feel my face heating.

“Yes!” She’s still laughing, still oblivious to my murderous expression.

I move towards her. “You think you’re going to get away with this shit, too, huh?” That catches her attention, and her eyes widen, the orbs looking more blue than green against the backdrop of the pool.

“It was just a joke. I’m sorry if I-” she stammers.

Closer now. Only a few feet separating me from her small, fragile body. “Just a joke. You think you’re so fucking funny. You think you can just do whatever the hell you want.”

“No, no, I don’t,” she says, shaking her head. She goes to move toward the ladder, but I block her advances with my body.

“You just do whatever you want, to whomever you want without consequence. Don’t you, Allison? You have no regard for anyone else. The world revolves around you, doesn’t it?”

“No, I didn’t mean that. You have it all wrong about-” Her words get caught in her throat as I move in as close as possible, my chest brushing hers. I can feel her nipples pebble with the chill, the cold, wet fabric clinging to her goose-pimpled skin.

My gaze lowers to her trembling lip, its usual pink color darkening to dusky mauve. “No, Allison. I think I have it all right about you.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but the wind is stolen from her chest as I pick her up and sling her over my shoulder. She only has sense enough to shriek, as I quickly make my way to the deeper end of the pool, a devilish smile on my lips. Then, sliding her body down to face mine, chest to chest, I scoop her up and toss her like a rag doll. She screams, arms flailing, red hair whipping water around like a sprinkler. Then, shoulders shaking, I let out a roar of laughter that surprises even me.

“What the hell? Oh, you are sodead!” she shouts, brushing her drenched locks from her eyes and mouth. Once she can see, she tries to wade over to catch me, and I quickly move away, still laughing hysterically. We’re in a slow motion ballet, running in liquid quicksand, trying to predict the other’s plan of attack. Animated eyes lit with delight, Ally goes right just as I jump out of her path. She jukes left, and I catch her around the waist in a spin move, placing my front to her back. Then my fingers are sliding over her ribs sheathed only by thin, wet cotton.

So many opportunities. So many alternatives. But I go with Option A. The only option that I truly deserve to have.

I tickle her.

I tickle Ally until she begs for mercy, until tears sprout at her eyes and her throat grows hoarse. I tickle her just to hear the sound of her laughter and the endearing little snorting sounds she makes between gulps of air.

I tickle her just have her in my arms.

“No fair! You’re a much better swimmer than me! Off me, Ryan Lochte! Or I’ll pull down your banana hammock!”

“Do you surrender?” I ask, going for the ticklish spot under her arms. She screams and thrashes like a beautiful, wounded animal.

“Never!”

“Fine by me.” I really let her have it, and she throws her head back on my shoulder in hysteric exhaustion. “Give it up, Ally. I win! Just admit defeat, and I’ll stop!”

“No! I’ll just pee down your leg!”

I shake my head at her crudeness and move down to tickle her stomach. I’m a sick puppy. The prospect of this girl pissing on me from laughing so hard isn’t totally revolting. It’s funny as hell.

“Ok, ok! Not there! I give up! Uncle!” she screeches. We’re both out of breath and panting. A sheen of sweat covers my forehead.

“Ah, so you’re the most ticklish on your stomach. That’s your kryptonite.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone. Or use it against me!”

I’ve stopped tickling her, but I haven’t let her go. She looks down, and I know what she sees: my arms wrapped tightly around her torso. I release her and take a step back.

“You’re scary when you’re mad.” She turns around and a soft, thoughtful smile kisses her lips. “Well, when you’re pretending to be mad.”

I run a hand through my wet hair, sending droplets flying. “Yeah. My mom made me take drama one semester in high school. She always wanted me to be a movie star. Said I had the look.”

“Well…she’s on to something.”

There she goes again. Subtly complimenting me and making me blush like a prepubescent fangirl. I hate it. I love it. I don’t know what to make of it. I’m embarrassed by my reaction to her. Hell, I’m embarrassed by my mental ramblings.

I look away towards the edge of the pool, just to give my brain something else to focus on. “Well, we should probably get out and dry off. I was serious before. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Fine, fine,” she sighs. “You’re lucky I’m too cold to feel my toes. I was about to kick your ass.”

We climb out of the pool, and the cold night air instantly covers us like a frozen Snuggi. Ally shivers, and her teeth chatter violently. I jog over to the lounge chairs where I left her sweater, and drape it over her shoulders. But somehow, as I smooth the fabric over her freezing, wet skin, she curls into my chest and under my arm, burying her face just a breath away from my nipple. I awkwardly freeze where I stand, arm still jutted out to the side to avoid holding her close. To avoid what instinct and emotion are begging me to do. Fuck.

“Oh…God…so…cold.” Trembles wrack her small frame, and I reluctantly let my arm surround her to keep her upright. She’s cold, yet something about her is inexplicably warm.

“Come on. Let’s get in the house.”

Now, a rational, thinking man would’ve ushered her into the main house. It’s closer, and that’s where all her dry clothes are. She’s cold, and warmth and comfort are only a few feet away. But the rational, thinking part of me was deprived of precious oxygen and blood-flow the moment I felt her soft, porcelain skin against mine, and her warm breath tickling my chest.

That’s why I took the extra steps to my house, away from prying eyes and the prospect of saying goodnight. I wasn’t done with her yet. I couldn’t have her, yet I still wasn’t done.

“Here, let me get you some towels.” I release her from my arms and power walk to the linen closet to get fresh towels. I even grab a soft, flannel throw. When I return, Ally is standing in the kitchen, still shivering. I wrap her with two giant, oversized towels and put the throw around her, winding it around her body and creating the cutest, sexiest burrito.

Lame.

I wipe the water from my body with my own towel, then put on a kettle for tea. Then I excuse myself to change. As I’m slipping on my sweatpants, I spy some old sweats that have grown too small, stuffed in the back of my closet. What the hell…what else do I have to lose?

“I brought you some dry clothes,” I say reentering the kitchen. Ally’s managed to unravel herself enough to sit on a stool at the breakfast bar. “Just some old, ratty sweats I can’t fit in. You don’t have to wear them if you don’t-”

“Thanks!” she says, jumping down off her stool and snatching the clothes. “Your bathroom…?”

“Down the hall, two doors to the left.”

I’m pouring tea into mugs when she reemerges, drowning in grey sweats that are three sizes too big for her. She’s adorable. I turn away and place the cups on a tray before bringing them to the kitchen island.

“Thanks. You went to Triton Prep?”

I look over at the prep school emblem that she’s assessing on the sweatshirt. “Briefly.”

“Oh. That’s where Evan graduated. Did you know him?”

I drop a couple sugar cubes in my tea, keeping my eyes set on the tray of teacups, sugar cookies and madeleines. “I was only there for a year.”

“Oh? What happened?”

I shrug. “Transferred.”

“Ok.” She busies herself, sipping her tea and nibbling a cookie. “I went to St. Mary’s in Boston. But I’m sure you already knew that.” She blushes, then looks down.

“I did.”

She lifts her chin and her eyes find mine, burning with curiosity. “Triton is a great school. Probably the best in the country. Your test scores must’ve been amazing to get in.”

I shrug again. Damn these shoulders. “They were alright.”

“Alright? If my parents weren’t adamant about raising me outside the city andsubjecting me to an all-girl hell, I’m sure my father would have been making a generous donation to get me in. Where’d you go after Triton?”

“Denton Academy.”

“Oh. That’s a good school.” She tries to recover her smile, but I can already see it.

Denton isn’t Triton.

I’m not Evan.

Just as I’m about to let the comparison worm its way into my head and hatch up a bunch of different reasons why I’ll never be deserving of someone like her, Ally’s face lights up, setting those cerulean eyes aflame. “Consider it a compliment. I’m determined that the prerequisite to attend Triton is you must be at least one-third, pretentious douche-nozzle. I think we’ve determined that that does not apply to you. At least not one-third.”