Fair Game (The Rules #1) (4 page)

I’m feeling pretty justified in breaking up with him. We’d been growing apart anyway. This was just the final layer of frosting on the gigantic shit cake our relationship had turned into.

“You’re so mean,” Kelli says, shaking her head. “What was Joel supposed to do? Shep Prescott is a big deal. Very intimidating. Joel didn’t have a chance.”

“So? He should’ve defended me, not run away.” I shrug, but what she says makes sense and guilt swamps me. “Besides, you’re mean too. You treat Dane terribly.”

Kelli waves her hand, dismissing my lame accusation. “We’re not talking about Dane. And really, I’m not as mean as you. Poor Joel. He thought he had that game won. Did you see his hand?”

“Did you see Shep’s?” The way he revealed it too. Smug bastard. One card after another. One queen after another. My heart had sunk with every card that fell onto the table. Until it was in the pit of my stomach and I knew I lost. Not Joel.

Me.

“You know he wasn’t serious.” When I say nothing, Kelli continues. “About the bet. About you. He can’t claim you as his prize. You’re a human being with your own mind. He wouldn’t be that much of an asshole to try and collect.”

“Please. He’s a spoiled rich asshole who can have whatever he wants. I’m sure he believes he has every right to claim me.” A shiver moves down my spine and I try to ignore it. The words are kind of sexy when you think about them. Shep “claiming” me as his, like I’m some sort of possession he can take whenever he wants.

Another shiver, this one full body. Those words conjure up all sorts of images, every one of them sexual. Every one of them featuring acts I’ve never once tried to attempt. The more I imagine them, the more curious I become.

This is so not good.

“Well, he probably hates you now since you slapped him so hard his head reared back. I swear I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was straight out of reality TV or something.” Kelli sounds downright excited by the spectacle I caused, which she probably is. I must admit, I’m pretty shocked by my behavior too. I can’t believe I slapped him. I saw the flash of shock register in those dark, dark eyes right before my palm made contact with his skin. Yes, I felt bad. Yes, I shouldn’t have slapped him.

But deep down inside, I know he deserved it.

“I shouldn’t have hit him,” I say, feeling an attack of guilt coming on.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Kelli agrees. “You’d probably be head mistress in his harem right now if you’d just been agreeable from the start.”

I burst out laughing and shake my head. It feels good to laugh. I’d been tense since we met up with Joel and Dane last night and they’d told us we were going to that stupid poker palace place Shep and his friends run. I’d known from the start the evening would end up crappy. And I’d been right.

“I’m laying low,” I tell Kelli. “In case Shep has set some traps in the hopes he can catch me and take me back to the harem.”

“I’m guessing he’s not interested any longer since you hit him in front of everyone.”

Why do her words bother me? I should be glad Shep isn’t interested in me any longer. I’m not a toy that Joel can hand over in trade. I don’t want to belong to Shepard Prescott in any way, shape or form.

“Good,” I say weakly when I realize Kelli’s waiting for an answer. “Serves him right, to mess with me.” But there’s not much force behind my words. I feel…bad for hitting him. And I can’t help but have a
what if
feeling too. Like…

What would’ve happened if I hadn’t slapped Shep? Would he have tried to charm the pants off of me? Would I have let him? Despite my still being with Joel at that moment? Would I have cheated on him in order to sample the Shep Prescott goods?

Maybe…

Ugh. That’s not good. I’m not a cheater. I’m loyal. Not like I’ve had a ton of boyfriends—fine, I’ve had two serious ones—but I don’t mess around behind anyone’s back. That Shep tempted me, even in my head…disturbs me.

Greatly.

“Well, forget all that.” Kelli waves her fingers in a dismissive gesture, clutching her clean clothes to her chest with her other hand. “I’m going to take a shower and then we’re going out.”

“We are?” I run my fingers through my still damp hair. I’d truly planned on laying low tonight. I have a paper due Tuesday I need to finish. Well, more like start.

“Yeah. Saturday night. Party at one of the frat houses. I got us an in.” Kelli grins, looking pleased with herself.

“What about Dane?” I ask warily.

“What about him? We’re good. We’re solid. He has a birthday party to go to. Guys getting together and eating buffalo wings and drinking beer at someone’s house off campus. Bleh.”

“Yeah, well we’re in for the same scenario. Minus the buffalo wings,” I point out.

“Right, but we need to find you a new boyfriend since you dumped Joel.”

“That is the absolute last thing I need.” I met Kelli a few days before school officially started, when we were moving into the dorms. We hit it off right away and I was so thankful since one of my biggest fears was that I would hate my roommate.

We have a lot in common. We’re both sarcastic. We both like to study but aren’t fanatical about it. We’re both reasonably clean. But where we differ is our attitude toward guys. Kelli likes to keep them coming, one after the other. Not that she’s a slut or anything. Far from it. She just ends it with one and picks right up with another.

Me? I take a long time to even find one that I click with. And once I find him, it takes me a while to come around. After I come around and I’m finally ready to say yeah, let’s do this, I like to settle in and consider him my somewhat boyfriend.

So now that I’ve broken up with Joel—my only boyfriend thus far my freshman year and it’s already early April—it’s going to take me months to get back on the boyfriend train.

Months. Like maybe not until my sophomore year because school’s almost finished and everyone will go home, including me.

“You’re no fun.” Kelli mock pouts. “Have you ever thought how awesome a quick hookup would be?”

“Ew.” I make a face. “I don’t do hookups. That’s so gross.” My body is my temple, damn it.

“You big prude.” Kelli throws her clean pair of underwear at me and I dodge them, practically tumbling off my bed. “I’m not talking blow jobs in a back bedroom or a quick screw against the wall—though there’s nothing wrong with either of those things. I meant like…flirting with a hot guy. Getting a little drunk. Dragging him to a secluded spot. Running your hands through his hair as he slides his hands down your back and you make out for a solid ten minutes. With lots and lots of tongue.” The dreamy look on Kelli’s face tells me she’s describing a personal interlude. I really hope she’s not talking about Dane, because I’ll never be able to look at him the same way again.

Not that I’m going to be looking much at Dane. He and Joel are pretty close friends. So I’ll be avoiding the both of them, thank you very much.

“Sounds lovely,” I say. “If I’m lucky, I’ll find some handsome prince type tonight who’ll sweep me off my feet and kiss me until I can’t feel my lips anymore. I can’t wait.” I toss Kelli’s underwear back at her and the royal blue scrap of silky fabric smacks her right in the face. “Go take your shower already. You reek of sex.”

“I do?” She leans her head down and sniffs at the neckline of her shirt. “I can smell Dane’s cologne, but that’s it.”

God. Her sexual afterglow is kind of annoying. More like it makes me jealous. With Joel…I shouldn’t fault him. He was eager. He always wanted to please me. And I appreciated that but…okay fine, the problem was me. I had the hang ups. I couldn’t let go. I get too nervous during sex. I worry about how I look, how I’m touching him, how he’s touching me, do I smell, do I look fat, can he see the cellulite on my butt, oh my God did I just fart?

Do I give good blowjobs or bad? Ugh, does he want to lick me down there? Gross, don’t do it. I won’t come anyway. I’m sweaty. I’m smelly. I’m tired. My jaw hurts. Can’t he just come already and get it over with?

Yeah. I have serious self-esteem issues when it comes to sex. I wish I could just relax and let loose and be free. Like Kelli, or like the rest of the girls on campus who are getting some on a regular basis. Performance anxiety really stresses me out. Sex is supposed to be fun, right? I feel like it’s a job. Or worse, I feel like it’s a test.

Yes, a giant, everything depends on this moment epic test and I am always, always going to fail. I’ve gotten quite good at pretending. Faking orgasm. Faking interest. Faking everything.

Maybe I should’ve become a nun. Bad thing is, I’m not Catholic.

“While I’m taking a shower, you need to do your hair. Curl it like you do sometimes. It’s pretty like that.” Kelli waves a hand at the bright yellow, very expensive curling iron my mom had shipped to me for my birthday from Sephora. The thing works like magic. Considering its price tag, it should.

Not sure where Mom got the money for it since we are most assuredly middle class, but I do know she’s been dating a new guy lately who I think she’s getting to foot all the bills. She says she’s been remodeling the house lately too, which is kind of strange but hey, he must really like her. And she’s a pretty awesome lady, I must say. So if her boyfriend Dex is funding the remodel, then good for her. Good for us. I should reap the benefits of this too since I’m coming home for the summer.

At least there’s something to look forward to.

“And wear that cute pale blue top. You know, the one that’s sleeveless and has the crisscross in the back?”

“Kell. That shirt shows practically all my goods.” I bought it because Joel encouraged me to. I’ve worn it exactly once and felt so self-conscious the entire night I deemed it unwearable forevermore. “In fact, it’s yours now. You’re an owner.”

“No way. I bought one just like it but in a different print. You are so wearing it tonight.” Kelli grins. “And you’re wearing it
because
it shows off all your goods. You have a hot bod, friend! Such a tiny waist and those boobs! Women pay good money for boobs like those.”

I glance down at my chest. “You’re crazy.”

“No,
you’re
crazy for not showing those ta-tas off more! You’re gonna curl your hair, I’m gonna do your makeup, you’ll wear that shirt that shows off your goods and we’re gonna get wasted, baby. We’re going to have the night of our lives!” Kelli dances out of our dorm room, slamming the door behind her.

I stare at the door for a moment too long before I finally heave myself off the bed with a big sigh and go over to the makeshift vanity Kelli and I turned our one lone desk into and plug in the curling iron. Flopping into the chair, I settle in and flick on the lights of the three-way mirror Kelli brought with her from home, making a face at my reflection.

I look crazy. Hair is whack since I let it dry naturally so it’s sort of all over the place. My skin looks pale, the freckles stark and too obvious for my liking. My brows need plucking and…I lean in closer, turn my chin to the right. Great. A pimple. I run my finger over the blemish right on my jawline, knowing that with a few dabs of foundation and one of those magic brushes Kelli’s always wielding, she can make it disappear.

Thank God for friends. And moms that splurge on too expensive curling irons.

Amen.

“A
frat party? That’s so déclassé.” I’m lounging outside by the pool, soaking up the spring-but-it-almost-feels-like-summer heat. California is suffering a major drought, which means hot women in string bikinis hanging out by the pool comes that much earlier. I should have a poolside party tomorrow afternoon…

“Quit with your bullshit fancy words and just agree to go with me,” Gabe gripes good naturedly, like he’s wont to do. Because nothing ever gets this asshole down, his life is perfect. Gabriel Walker should be one of those models in a Ralph Lauren ad, where they’re all beautiful, wearing perfect clothing and riding horses through a lush green field and laughing with children and a gorgeous woman is clinging to his side.

Good thing he’s my best friend or I’d hate his guts.

“And why are we going to a frat house again?” I sound bored because I am. I’ve been to enough frat parties to last a lifetime. I’m also frustrated. Last night had been…insane. I went from the incredible high of winning that crazy hand and getting the girl to having said girl slap me across the face in front of everyone.