Jailbait (30 page)

Didn’t you eat on your lunch?
he immediately responds.

Not exactly…
I send back, knowing he’ll understand what I mean.
 

Do I even wanna know?

I smirk.
Let’s just say… I was the meal and she loved every last swallow.

How you don’t get your ass laid out and canned from your job, I’ll never know.
I imagine him shaking his disapproving head at me.

It’s the charm, bro.

Unlikely.

So come on… bring me something to eat before I die.

Can’t…stuck doing bitch work till five.  

I groan. He’s been working at the Sacramento PD for the past two years now, ever since we graduated from college. Between his long-distance girlfriend and working overtime, we barely cross paths anymore.

Fuck. All right. Never mind.

Why not just order delivery?
 

Because every chick that comes to deliver it ends up with an extra tip…
That isn’t a complete lie. I also forgot my wallet, but I spare him the details.

I can’t even deal with you.

So you see my dilemma?
I laugh to myself.

Sorry, man. I’ll see if I can get someone that has some self-control and willpower to send something.

I roll my eyes.
Thanks,
I text back.

I get back to work, making calls and returning emails before my afternoon conference call. Less than an hour later, the receptionist buzzes and tells me my lunch is here.

Yes!
I knew Drew wouldn’t let me down.

“Send it in,” I say back.

I adjust my tie and sit back as the door whips open. I look up as five and a half feet of pure hatred walks in.
Good call, Drew. The self-control and willpower is strong with this one.

Viola Fisher.

“Well, well, well…” I drawl out, crossing my arms over my chest in delight. “If this isn’t the surprise of the century.” Little Goody Two-Shoes, delivering my lunch as if I’m the biggest inconvenience of her life. She must have owed Drew a favor.

She throws a brown bag on top of my desk and glares. “Cut the shit, Travis.”
 

“Always a delight, V.” I continue smiling as her lips straighten into an angry line.

“It’s
Viola
,” she corrects like she does every time.
 

“But
V the Virgin
sounds so much better. Don’t you agree?”

“I’m not a virgin,” she hisses. She throws her hands up and spins around. “I don’t need to explain anything to you. Enjoy your lunch, asshole. I poisoned it.” She opens the door and stalks out, letting the door slam shut behind her.

I grab the bag and pull out a turkey club and a bag of chips. I analyze the food, knowing damn well she probably would poison me if she had the chance. Just to be safe, I stuff the sandwich back in the bag and grab the chips instead. At least I know she hasn’t tampered with that.

I can’t help the pleased grin that spreads across my face when I see she’s picked out barbecue-flavored baked chips for me. She knows barbecue chips are my favorite, even though she’ll deny it until the day she dies.

Yeah, that’s what happens when you’ve known a girl for most of your life. She shares DNA with Drew, who’s been my best friend since we were twelve. We grew up together, played on the same sport teams, and even lived across from each other. After our sophomore year of college, we moved out of the dorms. We now rent a house off campus together, where Viola is always lurking around. She’s hellbent on commenting on every aspect of my life, even though she’s the one that needs to get one.

Needless to say, Viola and I haven’t had a great relationship. Or a relationship period.

She hates my guts.

I don’t blame her entirely. But I don’t exactly adore her either. She’s the perfect little prude who thinks she knows everything just because she’s the class brainiac. She judges everything I do while being a complete cock tease. At least, I know how to walk the walk. I’d be surprised if she knew where her own g-spot is.

“King…” Blake steps into my office, his eyes lit up wide. “Who was that chick?” The corners of his lips are turned up in an excited grin. “She was hot!”
 

I roll my eyes. Viola is not hot.

Jessica Biel—
hot
.
 

Megan Fox—
bangin’.

Eva Mendes
—smokin’.

Scarlett Johansson—
porn star hot.

But Viola Fisher—
gorgeous, stunning, absolutely breathtaking.
Much more than hot. Even though she could afford to loosen her panties a little. Both figuratively and literally.
 

Even if she did bat an eyelash my way, Drew would kill me before he allowed me to touch his little sister.

“That’s my roommate's little sister, Viola. She was just dropping off my lunch.”

His lips turn down. “Oh…you’re already hitting that, aren’t you?”
 

The top corner of my lip twists up and a small chuckle rolls off my tongue. “Uh, no. Not even close.”

His brows furrow. “Then why was she here bringing you food?”

“Because Drew’s my best friend and I’ve known them both since we were kids. He probably asked her to and when she told him to fuck off, he probably threatened to change the locks.”
 

“Ahh…blackmail.”
 

I laugh. “Maybe. She secretly loves doing things for me.”
 

“You’re an arrogant dick, King.” He shakes his head as he aims for the door, but a small smile pulls at his lips.

“Arrogance is the key to success, James!” I holler back, but he’s already walking away and shaking his head at me.

Oh well…you can’t win everyone over.

VIOLA

You have got to be freaking kidding me!

I want to yell and flail my arms at the jaw-clenching task my brother has asked me to do.

Can you bring Travis a sandwich at work? He didn’t have time to eat during his break.

I roll my eyes at the message he sends me. A lame attempt to cover Travis’ ass. ‘Didn’t have time’…
really
? I wasn’t born yesterday.
 

However, Drew does so much for me that I have a hard time refusing him. As kids we weren’t super close, but as we grew older, he became much more than just my brother. He’s my best friend. As much as I want to tell him to tell Travis to fuck off, I don’t. Instead I reply back,
Fine. But I’m putting rat poison in his mayo.

Whatever gives it flavor.
I smile as I read his message. Drew knows I hate Travis. Not like, har-har-I-hate-you kind of hate, but like loathing, I’d-rather-eat-my-arm-off-than-be-near-you kind of hate.

But Travis is his best friend, so when he needs a favor, I usually get roped into helping somehow.

After throwing his lunch on his desk, I storm out of his office with a humph. I was three seconds away from slapping his stupid, I’m-so-hot grin right off his face.

He’s
not
hot, for the record.

He’s a fucking devil and gorgeous god all in one, and he knows it, too. With his sculpted six-pack, sleeve tattoos and stunning brown eyes, he’s the type that never has to work for anything.

He works out religiously and reminds me every time when he walks around the house shirtless. Aside from working out, his extracurricular activities include being naked and in between some bimbo’s legs. If only he cared about the girls he brings home the way he cared about his body, we’d be having a much different conversation.

For the record, I only know this because he lives with my older brother.
 

I drive out of the parking lot and head back to school. Although this is my last year, I still live on campus. I received a full scholarship based off my grades and SAT scores, so spending the extra money to be off campus didn’t make sense. Luckily, last year I was able to choose courtyard housing, which means I get my own bedroom and bathroom and only have to share a living room and kitchen with my three other roommates. For extra money, I tutor jocks. Never a short supply of academically questionable athletes on campus.

“Hey, Viola!” Ashley calls out as soon as I walk through the door.

“Hey! You’re back early.” I set my stuff down on the table and rummage through it.

“Class got dismissed as soon as we finished the quiz,” she says in between bites of chewing her lunch.

“What a waste of a class.” I love school. Yes, I’m one of those students that absolutely loves studying, doing homework, and participating in class lectures. I even devote an entire weekend for school supplies shopping and organizing it all by color and subject.
 

I’m smart, so sue me.

Actually, don’t. I can’t afford a lawyer.

“Doesn’t bother me!” She stands up from the couch and stalks over. “Jesus, Viola. What is all this shit?”

I furrow my brows at her. “This
shit
is called textbooks, notebooks, and reading material. You might’ve heard of it?” I tease.

“I swear to God, Viola. You are way too focused on school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a book in your hands.”
 

“Plenty of times, actually. But you see this building we live in?” I dramatically twirl a finger around in the air. “And all the larger buildings that surround us? That’s called a campus…it’s where people come to
learn
.”
 

“It’s also where people come to party and get laid, but I never see you do any of those things,” she says with a grin.

I scoff. “I get laid plenty of times.”
No, I don’t.

She snorts, laughs, and nearly chokes at my words. “That’s the biggest line of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

I sigh. “I’m leaving now. BYE.” I pile my stuff back in my bag and head back out toward the door.

“Love you!” she calls out, but I just flip her my middle finger over my shoulder and slam the door behind me.

I’m really not the buzzkill she’s portraying I am, but it’s safe to say I’m school-focused. More importantly, I’m future-focused. I’m two hours away from home, and to stay away from that little town after graduation, I’ll have to continue my education or find a job that pays well. I am trying to keep my options open because there really isn’t a home for me to go back to. After our parents’ nasty divorce was finalized, the house I grew up in was put on the market and sold. Mom moved on, fell in love with a nice guy named Larry. They’d let me move in without a doubt, but I could never do that. It would just be too weird to live with a man who’s virtually a stranger to me. Dad is still happily married to his job at the law firm, which isn’t surprising. Most days it feels as if Drew and I only have each other.
 

Majoring in International Business makes me happy. It keeps my mind busy and I’ve always loved how other cultures conduct business. I geek out over micro and macroeconomics and just the mention of foreign trade policies gets me hot and bothered.
 

Earlier in the semester, Dr. Johnson pulled me aside after class and asked if I’d consider an apprenticeship after graduation. I had already started applying for graduate schools, but I wasn’t against the suggestion. If she thought it would benefit my future, I’d definitely consider it.
 

She handed me a stack of papers with a smile and gave me several handwritten recommendations for each corporation. After looking them over, I decided to send my application in to a few of them. I’ve been on edge waiting for their replies, but so far nothing yet. After doing further research into these corporations and weighing the benefits of what these experiences could mean for a future career, I’ve become obsessed with planning out every possible path I could take. Those offers will single-handedly decide my future after graduation.
 

It’s something I’ve kept from Drew, which I feel bad about, but I know if I tell him, he’ll either try to talk me out of moving away, or he’ll ask me on a daily basis if I’ve heard anything yet. The pressure and disappointment is something I want to avoid, so until I know for sure, I’m not telling him anything. As far as he knows, I’ve only applied to graduate schools within the state.  

However, I know I’m going to tell him eventually. I’m just waiting until I
have
to. Once our parents started fighting regularly and their focus shifted from being a family to sabotaging one another, Drew made sure to take care of me. Even when he was annoyed with my books and my distaste for sports, he made sure to keep an eye on me. I was a sophomore in high school and he was in his last year of high school when our parents’ fighting really got bad. I could no longer remember a time when we all sat down to eat a meal together or even to one of Drew’s basketball games. Somewhere between middle and high school, something shifted, and I really never knew what or why, but it pushed Drew and me together. If anything good came out of my parent’s divorce, it was that.

After my final class, I head back to my room, pile my clothes in a basket, and drive over to Drew’s house. Since he and Travis rent a house just ten minutes from campus, I visit after Drew’s shifts and do my laundry every Wednesday night. But since Drew works patrol all day, I stop in after he’s home from work so we can hang out while I wait for my clothes to wash.

“Hey, Vi,” he greets as soon as I walk in. His dark locks are a wild mess as usual, his eyes glued to the TV as his fingers furiously move across the game controller. You wouldn’t know by looking at his muscular frame that he’s a total videogame junkie. If he’s not in uniform or killing zombies through the screen, he’s working out with the guys in his unit.

“Hey. Washer free?”

“I think Travis just put his in a few minutes ago.”
 

I curse under my breath. “He knows I come over on Wednesday nights to do laundry. Why is this a hard concept to understand?”

He doesn’t answer, but we both know why.

Because Travis is a fucking arrogant douche who thinks he runs the world.

“Fine, whatever. I’ll wait then.” I drop my basket on the floor with a hard smack and stalk toward Drew. I plop on the couch next to him and ask if I can play too.