Four Years Later

CHAPTER 5

Chelsea

Their names are Tad and Brad.

I’m not kidding, though I wish I were. Why didn’t Kari warn me about this? I mean, really? Tad and Brad? They’re not twins, they look nothing alike, but they’re fraternity brothers, and they’re both big and beefy, their arms bulging with muscles. They almost seem to revel in the fact that their names match. Like it’s some sort of gimmick to meet people—specifically girls.

So. Cheesy.

Kari acts like it’s the cutest thing ever—like these two shady dudes are the perfect matches for us. She attached herself to Brad’s side the moment we arrived and found our dates sitting in the lounge area of The District, which is just off the bar. He’s the better-looking of the two, with golden hair, pale blue eyes, and an easy smile. Too easy of a smile, if you ask me.

But she’s not asking me, so I keep my opinions to myself.

I’m stuck with Tad. He’s darker, as in darker hair, darker mood, darker words. Whereas Brad is bright and sunny and trying to put on the charm, Tad is rather serious, with somber brown eyes, and only offering the rare smile. He’s never without a full drink, even after we’ve been there for a couple of hours.

And the more he drinks, the handier he gets. I’m not referring to him as being helpful, either. He’s constantly trying to touch me. Grazing my arm with his fingers, resting his hand on my knee. He even tried to place his hand on my thigh, which I immediately shoved off.

Bad enough I’m worried about getting caught sitting in the bar when I’m underage, though I’m not even drinking. It’s even worse that I have to fight off Tad the Octopus every few minutes.

The night started off so promising, too. I’d actually had fun getting ready with Kari. She’d found a super-cute top for me to wear from her closet. Cream colored, with three-quarter sleeves, the front is cotton but the sleeves and almost the entire back are made of lace. With a tank underneath it, I felt sort of daring and free. Totally not myself at all.

I liked it.

All that confidence is gone now, though. I’m ready to bolt. And Kari is definitely not ready to leave. Brad has his arm around her shoulders and he’s whispering something in her ear, nudging his nose against her cheek and making her giggle. He’d offered his beer to Kari multiple times and she never refused him, sipping greedily with his encouragement. I think she’s a little drunk.

That’s my cue to get us out of here.

“Sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” Tad asks, leering at me as he holds out his glass. He’s been drinking the harder stuff, no beer for him, and no way am I drinking anything from his glass.

Recoiling, I scoot away from him as discreetly as possible. We’re sitting on these low, very comfortable couches that are formed in a U-shape. Brad and Kari sit across from us, a glass-topped table in between. “No thanks,” I say weakly, feeling bad about refusing him and irritated that I’ve been put in this spot in the first place.

Never again will I believe Kari when she says, “Oh, it’ll be fun!”

“Shit,” Tad mutters, taking a swig from his drink before turning his glare on me. “You need to loosen the hell up.”

His remark has the opposite effect. I stiffen my spine, resting my hands on my knees like some sort of prim-and-proper schoolgirl—which I am. “I think maybe you should lay off the alcohol,” I suggest timidly.

He sneers. “Jesus, what are you? Some sort of uptight little virgin?”

Flinching, I look away from him. His remark cuts too close to home and he yelled it loud enough for anyone to hear. Despite how noisy the bar and lounge are, filled with chatter and music, we receive more than a few stares in our direction.

I can’t stand him.

Ignoring Tad, I turn my focus onto Kari, desperate to get her attention. Brad has his arm around her neck, pulling her in close so he can kiss her. If I lose her now, I’m done for, so I move quickly, grabbing a piece of ice out of my mostly empty water glass and tossing it at her.

My aim is perfect—the ice cube hits her right in the chest and she yelps, turning her attention on me. “What?” she asks, sounding totally put out.

Not that I can blame her. I’m the priss; she’s the party girl. I’m the uptight virgin; she’s the one who’s letting some guy she barely knows maul her and kiss her in the middle of a public bar.

Somehow our friendship works most of the time, but tonight I need to end this. This is one part of our lives where we totally don’t mesh.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “Privately?”

Rolling her eyes, she withdraws from underneath Brad’s arm and murmurs something to him before she stands. I do the same, not acknowledging Tad whatsoever, and Kari and I head to the bathroom, neither of us talking until we’ve made our way inside.

Luckily enough, we’re alone, which is like a small miracle, and I know I don’t have much time before someone does come in here, so I just blurt out what I want to say.

“I’m leaving.”

“No way.” She shakes her head, irritation written all over her pretty face. Her hair is a deep, rich auburn, thick and wavy. She has hazel eyes that change color depending on her mood and what she’s wearing. With her flawless skin and perfect figure, she’s beautiful, both inside and out. She’s my best friend.

I know she means well but I’m so uncomfortable with this situation, I can’t get over it. I have to go.

“You’re having fun, I get it. You really like Brad.” I lower my voice, as if I’m afraid the two guys are going to bust into the ladies’ room at any minute. Ridiculous. “But Tad … he’s not my type.”

Kari raises a brow. “Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, he called me an uptight virgin.” I return the gesture, raising both of my brows back at her.

Kari sighs, shaking her head. “You know, he might have a point.”

My jaw drops. Say what?

“Hear me out.” She holds her hands up, like she knows I’m about to tear into her. “You really do need to loosen up, Chelsea. I know you’re kind of socially awkward, and that all has to do with the age difference and you graduating school and coming to college so early. But Tad is kind of right. You really are an uptight virgin.”

Holy crap. I can’t believe Kari is saying this to me. “Thanks a lot,” I mutter, crossing my arms in front of my chest. My heart hurts, my mind tumbling over what they both said. Again and again.

Uptight virgin.

Am I really that uptight? Do people look at me and immediately think virgin? Probably. I guess that’s better than thinking I’m a big nerd.

I slump my shoulders in defeat. It’s not that much better. I am the quintessential nerdy virgin. They should make a movie about me. I even have the titillating angle of my dad being in prison for fraud. At the very least, I’m a Lifetime movie waiting to happen.

“Hey.” She grabs hold of my shoulders and crushes me to her, giving me a hug. I don’t uncross my arms, just stand there awkwardly while she holds me close. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. You’ve been at this college for the last two years and you haven’t done anything wild or rebellious. But now I’m here to help you break out of your shell so you can have a little fun for once in your life. You deserve it, Chelsea. You’ve been pretending to live your life. Now you actually need to go out and do it. Find a hot guy and make out with him.”

Not with a creeper named Tad who calls me rude names. “This isn’t working out with Tad. I want to go home.”

Kari withdraws from me, her expression forlorn. “You can’t just leave me here alone.”

Guilt swamps me. When Kari and I moved in together, we made a vow never to leave the other alone at parties, on campus … anywhere. “I was kind of hoping you would go home with me.”

Can’t she see what she’s doing? She broke up with her boyfriend from high school when they moved here and he realized there was more to this world than just him and Kari. And now she’s running into the arms of another guy who’s probably only going to use her? I don’t get it.

Sometimes I feel like I’m the only logical person on this entire campus, I swear.

“Are you serious? It’s barely midnight! God.” She glances around the tiled bathroom, as if she’d rather look anywhere else but at me. “Come on, Chelsea. I really like Brad and I really think he likes me. I’m not going to call this night over so early when there’s still so much that can—happen. I don’t want to leave.”

So she leaves me no choice. “Fine. I am leaving. I’ll let you explain what happened to Tad.” I storm out of the bathroom, not even bothering to look back when I hear Kari yelling after me. Pushing my way through the crowded bar area, I break free, moving down the short hall that spills out into the front lobby of the restaurant. The dining area is to my right and it’s mostly empty, since it’s a Monday night.

Doesn’t matter what night it is in a college town, though. The bar is always in full swing.

I push open the front door, walking out into the cold fall night. I didn’t bring a coat of any kind and the air seeps through the lace of my borrowed top with quick speed, chilling me to the bone. A shiver passes over me and I glance around, wondering how the heck I am going to get home.

Normally, Kari and I would walk even though we live kind of far. Stupid, I know, but hey, we’re safer together than alone, right? Considering I am alone, no way am I walking tonight. Calling a cab would be pricey and I’d probably have to wait a while, but I don’t really have a choice.

Pulling out my cell, I start scrolling online, looking for a taxi service, when I hear someone call my name. I glance over my shoulder to see it’s Tad.

Great.

“Hey.” He approaches me, his expression full of—worry? I must be seeing things. “Are you okay?”

I offer him a weak smile and a weaker excuse. “I’m fine, really. Just … tired.”

“Um, sorry for what I said earlier.” He shuffles his feet, dropping his head so he can stare at the ground. “It was a total jerk thing to do.”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” I want to smack myself for saying it’s okay when it so isn’t.

“So you’re leaving?”

I nod and glance down at my phone again. I really need to call a taxi so I can get away from Tad. He may be acting nice now, but I don’t trust him.

I don’t really trust anyone.

“I can take you home,” he offers.

My head snaps up and I study him. He looks sincere, but there’s something about his eyes … they’re too dark, too hard. A little mean-looking. It would save me megabucks if I rode home with him so I didn’t have to pay for a taxi, but I don’t want to take any chances. Something about Tad makes me uneasy. This guy has ulterior motives written all over him.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m going to have to pass.” I try for the apologetic smile to ease my refusal, but all he does is frown at me.

“You won’t even take a ride from me. First you treat me like shit and will hardly talk to me and now you won’t even get in my car? I mean, what the hell? Do you think you’re too good for me or what?” Tad spits out at me.

I’m in shock. Too good for him? What is he talking about? “I’m not trying to offend you …”

“Too late,” he interrupts, grabbing hold of my arm with so much force I yelp. “Though you’ll make it up to me if you let me take you home.”

There’s no way I want this idiot to know where I live. “Let me go,” I say, trying to jerk out of his grip, but he’s holding on too tight. Any tighter and I’m afraid he’ll bruise my skin.

“Come on, Chelsea. Loosen up, would you? This virginal act has got to go.” Tad’s whining now, which is almost as bad as angry Tad. “I’m just looking for a little fun.”

So not the kind of fun I was talking about with Kari earlier. “Tad, please …”

“Let her go.”

The familiar deep voice comes from behind us and I turn on a gasp to find Owen Maguire standing there, glaring at Tad like he wants to rip his head off. Relief floods me, heady and strong, as Tad loosens his grip, and I swear I sway a little when he lets me go.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Tad says, backing away from me with his hands up in front of him, his eyes never leaving Owen.

“Then keep moving and you won’t have any,” Owen practically growls as he stalks toward us so he’s standing right next to me, his expression menacing as he stares Tad down.

Wow. No guy has ever come to my rescue quite like that before. Owen looks fierce, too, his hands clutched into fists at his side, his brows drawn down, eyes cold and mouth grim. Tad turns and breaks into a run, where to I’m not sure. I’m just glad he’s gone.

Breathing deep, I turn to look at Owen, startled when I find him already looking right at me. “Thank you,” I say, irritated when my voice comes out some breathy little whisper like I’m a dumbstruck girl.

Which I am. Not that I would ever admit it.

“What were you doing with that guy?” he asks, sounding irritated and looking mad. And hot.

Like, all sorts of hot. Those intense green eyes latch onto me like they’re never going to let me go and he turns more fully toward me, his broad shoulders blocking my view. Gosh, he’s tall! I tip my head back, trying to ignore the wave of yearning that washes over me at his nearness. He seems to make my brain short-circuit every time I get close to him.

“Um, my friend and I met up with him and his friend for a drink,” I explain, wincing when I see his eyes widen.

“Aren’t you underage?” he asks incredulously.

“Aren’t you?” I toss back. God, he has some nerve. Who is he to talk?

“I work here. I’m not trying to sneak in and have a few drinks.” He says the words as if he’s passing judgment, but I see the waver in his gaze. I would bet big money he’s done the very same thing, though probably not here since he claims he works here. “Where’s your friend?”

“Inside.” I wave my hand toward the door.

“And she didn’t leave with you?” He shakes his head. “Some friend.”

“Hey, don’t knock her. Kari’s my best friend.” Practically the only friend I have.

“Could’ve fooled me. I thought best friends take care of each other.”

Talk about cutting straight to the bone. “That was totally uncalled for.” I tilt my head, lifting my nose to the air with a tiny sniff. My dad may have lost all our money and left us broke while he languishes in prison, but I can still pull off that haughty rich-girl attitude when I need to.

Tad’s words come back at me. Am I acting like I’m too good for Owen? I feel so defensive with him. Why does this guy affect me so much? It’s unnerving how attracted I am to him. No guy does this to me and here I am, all hot and bothered and feeling a little feverish. All over a guy.

“Only speaking the truth,” he says with a shrug. “Do you have a way home?”

“I do.”

“How?” He looks skeptical, which he should. I can’t pull anything on anyone, I swear.

“I’m calling a cab.” I open up my phone again, once more searching for a taxi. “Thank you for helping me,” I add, always polite, always so freaking good and never doing anything outrageous or wrong. Too afraid to get in trouble so I don’t stray.

“Chelsea.” He snags the phone from my hand and I lift my head on a gasp. Who does he think he is? I make a grab for my cell, but he’s holding the phone above his head. Like a stupid little kid, I jump up and try to grab it from him. He laughs, but it’s sorta grim-sounding, and I wonder what’s wrong with me.

I feel … giddy. Did Tad spike my water or my Coke or something? I don’t feel right. My head is spinning and goose bumps dot my skin when I brush against Owen. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt that’s rumpled from what I can only assume is a hard day’s work and black pants. He looks cute.

Fine. He’s more than cute. He’s gorgeous. And sexy. I never think a guy is sexy. Owen sure is.

And maybe that’s my problem.

Owen

I hold her phone over my head because I’m enjoying her hopping and trying to get it. Her tits bounce with every jump and though they’re not huge, I’m still checking them out. That lace top she’s wearing is interesting, offering me a glimpse of skin that’s not overtly sexy but still sorta hot.

And then there’s that ass of hers, which is the stuff of dreams. I’m getting a sick thrill out of watching her jump up and down so I can see that tight little ass move with her every hop.

Yeah. Clearly I need to get laid if this chick’s ass can get my blood pumping.

“Give me my phone.” She sounds irritated as hell and her face is scrunched up adorably.

“Not until you agree to let me take you home.” No way am I going to leave her alone so she can get a taxi when I can do the job.

And no way am I doing this to spend a little extra time with my tutor, either. She was the last person I expected to see standing out in front of my work, fighting off some jackass with grabby hands. I’d just ended my shift, totally exhausted and ready to go home and crawl into bed, when there she appeared, gorgeous in those jeans that fit her like a second skin, showing off those long legs and that …

Grimacing, I shake my head. I need to get over my fixation with her ass.

“Fine. Take me home, then.” She sounds completely irritated. “Now give me my phone.”

“Not until you thank me for the ride.” I’m playing games with her and actually enjoying myself. I haven’t enjoyed … anything for a while. I’m too stressed out. Everyone wants something from me and I keep fucking up. I can’t seem to get my shit together.

She rests her hands on her hips, scowling at me. “You haven’t even given me the ride yet.”

“I know.” I grin and her scowl deepens. I wonder if she hates me specifically, or does she hate all guys in general? “You’re not going to like this, but we have to walk back to my place first, pick up my car, and then I can drive you home.”

“Wait a minute. Your car’s not here?”

“I live ridiculously close. I walk to work.” I shrug. Everyone thinks I’m freaking crazy. They all know who I’m tied to at The District, especially since my sister used to work there. That I walk to work and try to keep everything low key when I could let everyone know the NFL’s newest superstar, Drew Callahan, is my brother-in-law blows their minds.

I’m not about that kind of shit, though. Being obvious only causes trouble. I can just imagine how much greedier my mom would be if I got all flashy like that.

When Chelsea doesn’t say anything, I take that to mean she’s being agreeable. “Ready to go?” I start walking and she falls into step beside me, both of us quiet as we head toward my house. I live right downtown, among the older homes and the frat and sorority houses, not too far from campus. I like being so close, in the midst of everything. Fable thinks I’m crazy, but she got nothing but grief from all of those college types—specifically the type of guys I hang out with now.

Drew put a stop to all that. He’s Fable’s freaking hero. At times, he’s been mine, too.

I glance down at Chelsea, who’s taking about five steps to keep up with one of mine. Her head is bent against the wind that’s blowing over us and she has her arms wrapped around herself like she’s cold.

I’m tempted to slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me to warm her up, because I’m hot as hell after working a busy night, but I restrain myself. First, I probably smell, not that I’m trying to impress her or anything. Second, she’d probably punch me in the gonads if I tried to touch her. She’s on edge and I can’t blame her. That stupid loser was trying to manhandle her. What would have happened if I hadn’t been there to stop it?

“Thank you for helping me get rid of Tad,” she says, her voice soft.

She’s a mind reader. “No problem.”

“I didn’t want to be there tonight. At The District,” she goes on. “It was all Kari’s idea. She set me up with Tad and he turned out to be a total jerk.”

Weak statement. The guy was more like a total asshole. “Maybe you shouldn’t let your friend set you up with guys you don’t know.”

“No kidding,” she mutters. “Though it’s really the only way I meet guys.”

“What about the ones you tutor?” Hell, listen to me. I sound like a wimp trying to figure out how she meets guys. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be attracted to her. I need to find some hot chick with an amazing ass and fuck her brains out. Fuck Chelsea right out of my head so I won’t think about her anymore.

I don’t know if that would work, though. The thought of finding some random chick and getting laid doesn’t appeal whatsoever.

“The ones I tutor … I consider it—them—work.” She looks up at me and our gazes meet. I don’t look away. Neither does she. “Usually,” she adds, sinking her teeth into her lower lip.

Okay. I need to pretend she never said that. Because my body is reacting all over the place as if she just whispered, Fuck me, Owen.

“What do you mean, ‘usually’?” There I go, not pretending at all.

Shrugging, she tears her gaze away from mine, looking anywhere but at me. “I don’t know.”

I let it go, hoping that she’s talking about me. Why, I’m not sure. I shove my hands in my pockets and slow my pace, contemplating her. I can see her skin through the lace of her shirt, though she’s wearing a skimpy tank top that covers most of her. The jeans—I’m not even going to bother going on about her legs and ass yet again because, damn.

There’s nothing else I can say about that.

Her long, dark hair tumbles down her back, straight as can be. It looks soft. I want to touch it. Wrap those silky strands around my fingers and give it a tug while I lock my lips with hers. Tilt her head back farther so I can lick my way down her throat and feel her pulse thrumming beneath my mouth …

“Do we go straight?”

Her sweet voice knocks me from my lusty thoughts and I blink, realizing that I’ve stopped at a cross street. “Turn left,” I say gruffly. “My place is three houses down on the left side.”

She doesn’t say a word, merely does what I tell her to, and I let her take the lead, admiring her from behind. I need to face facts: I’m hot for the tutor. She’s not my type. I hardly know her. But my body sure as hell wants to get to know her. And this is stupid because I’m asking for nothing but trouble, thinking like this.

As we draw closer to my house, dread sinks over me. Every window is lit up, and I can hear music and loud voices. Fucking Wade is having a party.

Just great.

“Um.” Chelsea stops and turns to look at me. “Is that your place?” She points at my house, where I can see Des and some chick I don’t know sitting on the couch on the front porch, passing a joint back and forth.

Shit.

“Yeah,” I say, my jaw tight. “Looks like my roommate is having a get-together.”

“Some get-together,” Chelsea mumbles, bouncing from one foot to the other. She looks nervous.

“Come on.” I flick my head toward my house. “I’ll just grab my keys and we’ll get out of here.”

My car is parked in front of the house on the street. We don’t have a garage, and the house is old and small, but I fixed it up inside pretty well when I first moved in and automatically had Wade move in with me. We’ve been friends forever. I couldn’t ditch him. I don’t even make him pay rent.

Drew takes care of it all—he bought the place. Paid cash for it and everything. Someday, I’d like to have that sort of power, that kind of comfort.

Smoking weed with Mom, drinking too much beer, and partying most of the week is not going to get me there anytime soon.

“Um, I’ll wait outside,” Chelsea says, shuffling her feet. She looks uncomfortable and I hate that.

“Are you sure?” I’m not going to push her into any sort of situation she doesn’t want to be in. Bad enough what I saw earlier with that asshole grabbing her. I won’t put myself in the same league.

She nods, lifting her head so she meets my gaze. “It’ll probably be—”

“Yo, Maguire! Who’s the hottie?” Des calls from his perch on the couch.

A sigh escapes me and I try my best to send her an apologetic look before I say, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Motherfucker, don’t be all mysterious on me. Bring your new girl up here and introduce her to us properly,” Des yells, a goofy-ass grin on his face.

“Hell.” I run a hand through my hair, then let my arm drop. “Do you mind? Des is harmless, though I don’t know the girl.”

“Kinda like he doesn’t know me, right?” She flashes me a tentative smile and shrugs. “How are you going to introduce me?”

“How do you want to be introduced?” I toss back at her.

She grimaces. “I don’t know. Your friend?”

I stare at her for a long moment. “They’re going to think I’m fucking you.”

Chelsea gapes, her mouth dropping open. “Are you serious?”

“They think I fuck every girl I bring around the house.” I give them good reason to think that, too.

She actually flinches. “Do you have to keep saying that?”

“Saying what? ‘Fuck’?”

“Yes.” Her expression is pained. “It’s so …”

“Fucking vulgar? Yeah.” I laugh when she glares. I can’t help it. “Sorry. Come on, let’s get this over with. And be prepared. Plug your ears or something, because Des curses like a motherfucker.”