Society Girls: Neveah (3 page)

I shouldn’t be doing this. I should just
learn from Faith like I’d planned to. That’s the problem, though. I
always do what I plan, and what everyone else expects. I want
something different this time, something spontaneous just for me. I
want to learn to shoot a gun…and I want Dylan Gallagher. So I put
my number in his phone and hope that he’s not playing me.

* * *

Dylan

I pull out my phone as soon as I’m away from
Neveah. The person I’m calling answers almost immediately.

“Is it done?”

“I initiated contact, yes.”

“And?”

“She’s going to let me try and help her
shoot a gun.”

“It’s a good start. You need to earn her
trust.”

“I don’t like this.”

“You’ve told me that already. You also
promised to see this through.”

“I owe you, I know that, but is this really
necessary?”

“Are you asking because you’re afraid one
woman won’t be able to hold your interest for so long?”

No. Honestly, just that little taste of
Neveah has me intrigued. “No. I can be a one-woman guy.”

“I know you can, and I also
know you
will
. You
gave your word. Earn her trust and then bring her to me. It’s
simple, really.”

“Simple? I can’t make her trust me.”

“You underestimate your appeal, Dylan.”

“Maybe you overestimate it.”

“No. This has to happen. There is no other
way. She will trust you, and then, when the time is right, you will
marry her, and you will bring her to me. Give her your name and
keep her away from Reina Corrigan. That is what needs to happen,
and you will play your part.”

I may not like it, but
I
do
owe him. More
than I owe anyone else, including my family. I’m going to probably
lose at least Ellie once all is revealed, but I made my vow, and I
won’t go back on it, even if I do know this plan is all kinds of
crazy. I will do everything in my power to protect Neveah, though.
She doesn’t deserve any of what’s going to happen to her, and I’ll
do what I can to make it easier for her to accept once the dust
settles.

Neveah

Faith has been trying to help me with the
guns and so have my friends here at the Society. No one has been
able to help me, though. I can throw knives, hit a bullseye with an
arrow, and handle every other weapon, just not a gun. I’m hoping
tonight will change that. Dylan offered to help me, and I’m taking
him up on it. I don’t know what a basketball player can do, but I
can’t deny I’m attracted to him. I’ve been with boys before, but
he’s all man.

Tall, with lean muscles and dark brown hair
that’s only slightly longer on top than it is on the side, grey
eyes that pulled me in the moment he started talking, and the
slight stubble covering his cleft chin, all combine to bring women
to their knees. Not me, though. I need his help, and I might be
more than willing to eventually share his bed, but I bow down to no
one except Allah.

I may have chosen a profession that goes
against some of the tenets of my religion, and I’ve already
admitted that I’m not a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love
God and pray to him daily. My mother has always kept her faith,
even when her husband was killed, so there’s nothing in this world
that will cause me to completely abandon mine, either.

Now I just have to figure out what to wear
to an NBA star’s home. I should be asking my friend, Matisse, or
even her mentor, Stella, but I don’t want anyone knowing yet. Or
maybe ever. For all I know, Dylan is just using this as a ploy to
get me into bed, because I’m several years younger than him, and if
I’m being honest, a couple of sizes bigger than the women he
normally has on his arm. I don’t see what else he’d want from me
besides sex. The embarrassment I’d feel if that’s the case would be
too great if all my friends knew. It’s better that no one knows,
especially not his sister, Ellie, who is a full-fledged member of
the Society.

I decide on a pair of
purple skinny jeans and a Hozier concert tee. A black and purple
pair of Chucks and my hair in a ponytail completes the look.
I
am
going to try
and shoot a gun, not have dinner at a five-star restaurant. If he
doesn’t like the look, well I guess it’ll be an early
night.

After driving to the address he gave me, I
use the intercom at the gates to announce my arrival. I’m
immediately buzzed in, and I marvel as the house comes into view.
The modern home is gorgeous, with windows and steel everywhere. It
looks like a work of art, and while it’s definitely masculine, it’s
not what I expected from a playboy baller.

The man in question walks outside as I pull
my Audi in front of the door. He’s got on a loose muscle shirt and
long basketball shorts with his team’s logo running down the side.
He’s barefoot, and for some reason, that turns me on a little.
Definitely more than the smirk he’s wearing does.

“Dressed up for me, I see,” he says as I
open the car door.

“Should I have worn a ball gown for the gun
range?”

“No,” he concedes with a full smile now.
“Nice ride.”

“Thanks.” I don’t tell him Matt bought it
for me. It’s none of his business.

“Are you hungry?” he asks as he holds his
front door open for me, following me into his living room.

I am, actually. I had a light lunch at work,
but nothing since. “A little, yeah.”

“I picked up some hummus and stuff I thought
you’d like.”

Here we go again. “I prefer cheeseburgers,
pizza, nachos, and beer,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my
chest to glare at him.

“Shit. I was stereotyping again, wasn’t
I?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I like the food of my
childhood, but it reminds me of…times when things were happier for
my family. Now I prefer American food.”

“You don’t eat Middle Eastern food at
all?”

“When I’m with my mother and brother, I
sometimes do, but other than that, no.”

“I can order a pizza.”

“That would be great. Thanks. I really do
appreciate you picking up things you thought I’d like. I know you
were trying.”

“I was. What do you like on your pizza?”

“Anything except pork.”

“Is it stereotyping if I ask if that’s
because you’re Muslim? You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I want to
know you, but if it’s personal...”

I smile at how nervous he looks. “Yes. I
don’t eat pork because I’m a Muslim.”

“How devout are you?”

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re
asking.”

“I wasn’t. I mean, that’s great. I
mean…shit…I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I?”

He’s actually kind of adorable like this.
The big, bad ball player is apparently just part of his act. I like
this version of him better. That doesn’t mean I’ll resist teasing
him a little. “Depends on what it is you’re trying to do.”

“Impress you?” he asks, instead of stating
it.

“Well then, I’d say you’re doing an
incredible job.”

“You’re impressed by my bumbling?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

* * *

Dylan

I like her. I knew that already from when I
met her at the gala, and probably even before then. I like that
she’s a little shy, but still calls me out when I’m acting stupid.
I like her long, wavy, brown hair. I like her slight accent. I like
her long legs, and her pouty lips. I simply like everything about
her so far.

That should be a good thing, since I’m going
to marry her, right? In reality, it makes everything worse. I want
to be attracted to her, because I can’t imagine never having sex
again, but liking her—and falling in love with her, which I know
now is very possible even though I haven’t thought I was in love
with a girl since I was fifteen—are only going to make my betrayal
worse. Once she marries me, and everything is revealed, she’s going
to hate me. I’ll deserve it, but I don’t know if I’ll survive
it.

I wish I could just reveal everything to her
now. Tell her about the person who’s pulling my strings. Explain
how I owe my life and so much more to them. But I can’t. I made a
promise, and I’ll keep my word. Even knowing that it will
eventually destroy us all, I’ll keep it.

“So, back to the pizza. What’s your
favorite?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, or at least mine.

“Barbeque chicken. But I’m good with cheese,
or veggies if you prefer that.”

“I
prefer
all meat, but there’s pork in
that, so we’ll go with the chicken.”

“No. You should get what you want,” she
says, putting her hand on my arm to stop me as I take out my phone.
“Just get me a small chicken one, and eat whatever you want.”

“What I want is to kiss you goodnight later.
I’m sure eating pork isn’t going to help me with that.”

She blushes a little, but meets my eyes when
she answers. “I wouldn’t let your meal choice stop me from kissing
you. If I decide I want a kiss, that is,” she says with a
shrug.

“Oh yeah? So, garlic and onions are
okay?”

“I thought you said
you
wanted
a
kiss.”

“What are my odds here?”

“Currently around 50/50, but dropping every
time you open your mouth.”

“Chicken pizza it is,” I tell her with a
chuckle.

After calling in the order, I lead her into
my kitchen. I see her body visibly jerk at the box on the center
island. “Is that?”

“Your gun? Yes. I told you I’d win it for
you.”

“It’s not mine. It’s not registered to
me.”

“I can take you to do that anytime you want.
Regardless, it’s yours.”

I won’t push her. She has to do this on her
own. I silently watch as she walks over to the island and stands in
front of the box. Her hands shake as she pulls the top off of the
box, but I’m proud of her for doing it. With a loud exhale, she
peers into the open box and then steps back.

“I can’t.”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?”

“You only invited me over here so you could
help me get over my fear of guns.”

“No. I invited you here because I like you.
I do want to help you, but only when you’re ready for that
help.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you
tonight.”

“Sweetheart, if we get anywhere near a bed,
sleeping isn’t going to be on the agenda. Trust me on that.”

“You’re so sweet sometimes, and then you
revert back to being an ass.”

“It’s a true gift,” I tell her, and then
have to grab her hand as she starts to storm past me to the door.
“Stay. We can watch a movie, or talk. Whatever you want. I’ll try
to be more sweet than ass.”

“Don’t strain yourself on my account.”

“I’d be more than happy…oh shit, almost
delved into ass territory again. Let me try this again. It would be
my pleasure to spend the evening with you. What are they calling it
now? ‘Netflix and chill’?”

“That means having sex while Netflix is
playing in the background,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“I know. I just didn’t know if you
knew.”

“Why am I agreeing to stay here again?”

“Because I’m irresistible?”

“Going home is looking better and
better.”

Instead of trying to spar with her verbally,
I decide to use my mouth in a way that’s guaranteed to win this
argument. I lean down, and cover her mouth with mine. Just a soft
brush of my lips over hers. I do it once, twice, and then she puts
her arms around my neck and pulls me closer. I lick her lips on the
next pass, and she surprises me by biting my bottom lip.

I force myself to keep things simmering and
not blazing as we open to each other. I pull the band out of her
hair, so I can tangle my hands in her long curls, and she squeezes
my shoulders in response. I could do this all night, just this.
Kissing her is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

The intercom buzzes, and I pull back to
answer. I’m breathing hard, and so is Neveah. I let the pizza guy
in as I look at what I’ve done to her. Her lips are swollen, her
hair is a mess, and I can see her nipples poking through the fabric
of her concert tee. I’m going to go to Hell for what I’m doing, but
what a way to go.

* * *

Neveah

I practically float up to my apartment when
I get home hours later. Dylan is everything I expected him to be,
but so much more as well. We really did watch a couple of movies
while eating our pizzas and talking. And kissing. There was lots
and lots of kissing. I know he wanted more, but he held himself
back.

I don’t know where things are going with
him, if they’re even going anywhere. Despite the incredible time I
had with him, it’s not what I went there for. I took one look at
that pretty gun he bought me, and panicked. I can’t keep doing
that, not if I want to become a member of the Society. And I do
want that, more than pretty much anything else in the world.

Before I can second-guess myself, I pull out
my phone and text Dylan.

Me: Can we try again tomorrow?

Dylan: Of course.

Me: You didn’t even ask what I meant.

Dylan: You came here for one thing tonight.
You left with your beautiful lips swollen, and your nipples tight,
but I know that wasn’t the master plan. A wonderful alternative, I
might add, but not the end goal. Or was it?

Me: Well, when you put it that way…you sound
like an ass again. Seriously, though, I want to pick up that gun
tomorrow. I NEED to.

Dylan: Got it. Gun first, making out after,
no more being an ass. Text me when you’re on your way. :)