Stars (Penmore #1) (17 page)

“Oh, was she the sophomore with the pixie haircut when we were freshman?”

“Yep, that was her. Anyway, she went on about how with a few instructions and a little guidance, she had ensured that he was an oral sex god and everyone could thank her later.”

“I thought she was a lesbian?”

“Yeah, I think she came out the following year and started dating Anthea, the girl in charge of the school yearbook. But the year before, she was one of Grayson’s many and decided to offer some pointers.”

“Makes total sense then that she could teach Grayson what to do,” replies Millie while she starts to spread cream cheese on the bagel a waitress placed in front of her.

“Yes, I agree. But back to my point.”

“Which was…”

“I feel like I need to find her address and send her flowers.”

Millie bursts out laughing. “That good, huh?”

“Phenomenal. I didn’t even know my toes could curl like that, and I swear my calves are still aching,” I say, taking a moment to lightly rub the areas of my body that seem like they have yet to stop throbbing.

“Well, you definitely deserve that after Temporary Troy. Although, you know I wouldn’t rush your flower order to Amber Reece, because after last night I think it’s probably a hereditary skill set,” she says, grinning at me.

“I do
not
want to know how you know that.”
Who am I kidding; I need to know.
“Please, tell me you did not sleep with Nate last night.”

“Hate to be cliché in saying this, but there was definitely no sleeping last night. Hence why I look like shit. Body feels awesome, but no beauty sleep definitely does not equal a pretty coffee date,” she tells me, taking a bite of her bagel.

“I am definitely going to yell at him tomorrow. He promised he’d take care of you and make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, he took care of me all right. Four times. I didn’t even know guys could go four rounds. Seriously, I’m calling him marathon man. Or do I call him triathlon man? Because we started with me getting really wet and then I rode him like a bike.”

“You did
not
just tell me all of that!” I whisper-shout at her, my imagination filling with images of triathlon sex becoming the next sporting craze. Each country’s participants would have special latex uniforms that allowed them to compete in each sexual adversity. Oh, God, what if everyone still needed to wear helmets?

Millie interrupts my rampant imagination and subsequent giggling by saying, “Hey, I totally want all the details about Grayson! How deep did his love go? Did it reach your ocean? Did he push you too hard?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Are you misquoting Calvin Harris lyrics at me?”

“Sorry, it was our sex soundtrack last night. Trust me, after four rounds with one song on repeat, everything you say before you finish your coffee would be inspired by that song.”

“La la la. I do not want to know this. ‘How deep is your love’ plays nearly every night at the club. How am I possibly going to give him my drink tray if that is playing in the background?”

“Beats me, but I think it’s now my favorite song of all time.”

“What are you doing?” I question when Millie reaches into her handbag and grabs her cell phone.

“Making it your personalized ringtone. You are my favorite person and it’s my new favorite song, so it makes perfect sense that I hear it every time you call me.”

I watch with a mixture of shock, horror and amusement as she scrolls through ringtones with a smile on her face. “Why can’t it be Nate’s ringtone?” I ask her, sulking a little over my coffee. “I don’t want to be your sex song ring-tone.”

“Oh, Nate already selected his,” she informs me as she taps on her screen then throws the phone back into her handbag.

“Let me guess, ‘I’m bringing sexy back’?” I query, trying to imagine the silliest song that Nate would believe represented himself.

“Nope. Anaconda,” Millie replies as she sips from her coffee cup.

“La la la,” I reply loudly, desperately attempting to block out information that I’m sure will cause my work relationship with Nate to be forever changed.

“Keep pretending like you aren’t a little bit curious. The fact that Nate is packing a lot of heat can only mean good things for your future,” she tells me, giggling at the red that creeps up my neck and across my face. I don’t tell her that I am well aware of Grayson’s
anaconda
and that I was more than a little curious. Last night has only intensified my desire to be with him in every way possible. After Millie leaves tomorrow, I plan to dedicate some serious time into finally having some hands-on experience.

“So, are you going to tell me why you haven’t told Gray who you are yet?” she finally asks while the waitress takes away our empty plates.

“Mill, if I tell Gray that I grew up next door to him and never introduced myself after thirteen years, he would think I was crazy.” I sigh, feeling hopeless in this situation.

“Sweetie, that
is
a little crazy, but it’s also understandable. You were shy, and our town worshiped Gray like he was the frigging Sun god and they were all ancient Aztecs,” she says carefully.

“Maybe if I just wait a little bit—” I start to say, even though I knew I was grasping at straws.

“Love you, sweetie, and I hate to do the tough love best friend thing. It’s not nearly as fun as the sexy-talk. But he’s bound to see you’re a little loopy sooner or later. I’m also sure he’ll love that about you like I do,” she says before continuing softly, “if you’re honest
sooner
rather than later.”

I hear what she’s saying; there’s even a part of me that knows she’s right.

I was just scared, afraid of going back into the audience, back into the shadows, when I had just learned how warm stepping into the spotlight beside Grayson could be.

PARKER

“Did you hear that he spent the entire evening with one of the waitresses?”

“I heard she was fat, but with big tits.”

“Apparently, she’s in his sociology class, because she has like no social skills. She doesn’t even go to his games. People say they’ve seen her at like one.”

“What sort of girlfriend doesn’t support her boyfriend’s future career?”

“A shit one.”

I was about to cry and it pissed me off. Sure, I know there’s a rule about letting the stupid things nasty people say about you roll off your back. Something about fucking sticks and stones. But whoever made up that rule has obviously not sat in a lecture hall and listened to a group of mean girls mock her for thirty-five minutes straight.

I knew they had no idea who I was.

I knew they were just jealous.

I also knew if I didn’t leave this hall in the next few seconds, I was going to cry like a little kid whose balloon just got popped by an older and meaner kid. So, I grabbed my handbag and put my laptop away, trying to block out the nasty gossip they continued to share with one another and dashed toward the exit. I was early leaving the hall, which meant I would need to text Gray and let him know he shouldn’t grab coffee and wait for me. It dawns on me how lucky I am that in all the weeks that Gray has met me outside the hall, I always rushed to greet him and was quickly directed by him toward his next class. The nasty girls were always touching up their make-up before they graced the quad with their pristine presence. If they had been faster in powdering their noses, they wouldn’t have had to rely on secondhand sightings of mine and Gray’s relationship at Lucky’s, or anywhere else for that matter.

They would have known exactly what I looked like and most likely they would have directed their venom straight into my largest vein. Not that I think it would have made a significant difference in how I felt. Their words—fictional or not—causes me pain. To think when I was having coffee with Millie I thought being out of the shadows was a good thing. I clearly wasn’t used to the negative attention that came with entering the spotlight. Especially if the other girls were angry about not becoming the lead actress and missing out on their chance to perform in front of the leading man.

As I walk through the quad, I decide to sit down at one of the benches near a large oak tree. I just need a moment to calm down. Give myself a chance to breathe in and out. Ensure those bitches don’t cause me to cry amongst a bunch of strangers, resulting in my feeling only further humiliated. Once I felt better, I would text Gray and call Millie. I wish she had been able to stay a little longer; she would have followed me to class and most likely released her hot temper on the bunch of bickering bitches. Just as I release the deep breath I’ve sucked in to still my nerves, that weird, bulky blond who kept staring at me during my first frat party joins me on my small bench.
Great
. As If dealing with the nasty girls wasn’t enough to test my patience today, I would now need to deal with what I’m sure will be fantastic one-liners from conjunctivitis guy.

I’m braced for the worst when he removes his cap, places it backward over his shaggy blond hair, and makes what appears to be sincere and concerned eye contact. “Parker, right?” conjunctivitis guy asks while taking a slow, assessing examination of my face.

“Um, yes. Have we met?” I ask quietly, now bracing for some vile comment the likes of which I was just subjected to by those bitches.

“I’m Andy, Gray’s best friend,” he tells me. “Saw you rushing out of Reed Hall like you were being chased by an axe murderer and thought I better check you were okay. Gray’s talked about his pretty brunette and Reed Hall coffee dates, so I figured I was on the money when I spotted you.”

“Um, yeah. Gray and I are seeing each other,” I whisper my reply. Praying no one overhears my statement and causes further jealous reports to land on vindictive ears.

“You leave class early?” Andy asks.

“Yeah, there’s probably still an hour to go.”

“That means Gray’s still back at our place,” he tells me. “Grab your stuff and I’ll give you a ride.”

“But my car is here, and I don’t want to surprise him. I was just about to text him and tell him we might have to rain-check our usual plans.”

“Trust me, babe, he’ll want to see you like this. And he’d be pissed at me if I didn’t take you to him myself,” he tells me patiently. “I’m sure he’ll bring you back to get your car.”

Before I have a chance to formulate a solid reason as to why I shouldn’t go with him, Andy ushers me toward his sleek silver BMW and helps put my bags in his trunk.

*****

Gray is sitting on the couch in only his worn jeans, eating Twinkies while watching a replay of the Dallas Cowboys’ last game
.
If the marketing department of Twinkies got a photo of this, Gray’s six-pack on display while licking cream off his fingers, they would never need another advertisement ever again. Even though I am seriously appreciating the amazing view, walking into Gray’s spacious apartment for the first time without permission from the man himself is causing me to panic. Sure, Andy kept saying Gray would be pissed if he didn’t bring me back to their place after finding out what the girls on campus had been saying AND seeing how those statements were affecting me.

I wasn’t completely convinced.

Gray hadn’t ever invited me over himself. He always insisted on picking me up in his Jeep whenever we had dinner plans. Although one could assume that he does this because his mother taught him to be a gentleman, I don’t make assumptions. I know firsthand how assuming someone might want to see you can cause a lot of pain.

What if he feels like this visit is a complete invasion of his privacy? What if he ends it right now because I didn’t check in with him first? As soon as Andy lets the front door slam behind us, Gray catches sight of my pale face and timid stance and is on his feet and storming toward us. He is completely oblivious to the fact that he has a small bit of cream on the side of his mouth.

However, that small dollop of cream is making me forget everything that had been crowding my mind two seconds ago. Instead of being afraid that Gray will turn me away, again, I’m struggling not to hop onto the tips of my toes and lick the cream off.

“What’s happened?” Gray asks as he looks between Andy and me, causing the tidal wave of insults I heard this morning to crash down and wash away all my pent-up sexual energy.