Playing, p.75
Playing, page 75
"Excuse me. I need to change for the party." I nod goodbye. "I'll see you later."
His eyes stay on me, but, still, he says nothing.
* * *
Downstairs, the party is filling up. I plow through two dozen people to find Kara. She's already tipsy. Verging on drunk, even.
She slurs her words. "Sweetie, where have you been? Do you want a drink? You should have a drink."
Okay. Past verging and all the way into drunk. It's her birthday. Not the time for a lecture.
"Maybe later. Right now, I need my costume," I say.
"Right!" She bounces to her purse, digs through it, and hands me her car keys. "Knock 'em dead."
I change in the backseat of her car, stuff my clothes into a backpack, and dump it on the patio furniture. No matter how many times I adjust the costume, I feel uncomfortable. This thing is tiny. Gold bikini Princess Leia seemed like a good idea this morning. At the moment, I'm stuck on how many inches of skin I'm exposing.
I take a deep breath and check my reflection in the window. I look good. Nerdy but sexy.
I'm in control. I'm going to affect Miles.
After three more deep breaths, I make my way inside. The party isn't quite as crowded as the last one was. It's more college students than beautiful people. Nice of the band to let Kara invite all her friends to their place.
I fight my desire to hide from the action. Big smile, shoulders back, I'm confident. I may not love parties but I love having Miles under my thumb.
Tonight, I'm the casual, cool, effortless one.
Drew spots me and waves. I wave back, my best nice to see you, but please God leave me here on this couch alone wave.
It doesn't work. He strolls over and plops down next to me. He's dressed as a police officer. It suits him.
His tone is serious. "Can I ask you something personal?"
My heart thuds against my chest. Please don't let it involve Miles. "Sure."
"You miserable because you hate parties or because of Miles?"
Dammit. No luck today. "I'm not miserable."
"I barely know you and I still know that's bullshit."
"I'm not. I'm not happy but I'm… It's hard to explain."
He raises a brow. "Don't think you have to explain your intentions in that outfit."
I shrug like I wear this every Halloween.
He scans the crowd. I can’t make out the expression on his face. Drew is unreadable.
"I meant what I said about Miles—I'll kick his ass if he hurts you."
"That seems extreme."
"I've been around extreme too long to notice."
"Can I ask you something?"
He nods. "Fair is fair."
"Do you want to be with Kara? As her boyfriend?"
He holds a poker face. "Kara's amazing. She smart, funny, sweet. I'd have to be blind not to realize she's fucking gorgeous. But I'm not about to throw away what I have with Kara for a relationship that's doomed to fail."
"What if it's not doomed to fail?"
"Not worth the risk."
A month ago, I'd have nodded in agreement. Relationships suck. They always fail. Look at Rosie and Jared.
But right now I'm not sure I agree. Miles and I share something special, an understanding, an intimacy. I've never felt that way with anyone before.
It's tearing me up inside, how much I want him. But it feels good when I have him. Being with him feels better than anything else ever has.
Okay. My heart refuses to accept that this is casual. At least I'm aware of its failings.
Something catches Drew's eye. It's Kara. She's dressed as a mermaid. Her teal figure-hugging dress has a scale pattern. Sequins adorn the sweetheart neckline, emphasizing her large breasts. The dress flares at the knee, creating a proper mermaid tail. With her long, dark hair hanging over her shoulders, she has the whole mermaid sex goddess thing on lock.
Drew pants like a dog. It takes him a full minute to catch his breath.
He nods a goodbye, all cool like he isn't thinking about throwing Kara on his bed and using the handcuffs attached to his belt to keep her there.
"Let me know if you need a ride." He lowers his voice. "There are condoms in all the bathrooms. Just don't fuck in my room."
"I'm not going to—"
He raises a brow, incredulous. "I'll keep this conversation between us."
"Thank you."
"None of my business." He makes his way to Kara.
Who does the guy think he's kidding? His reaction is exactly the one I'm trying to inspire in Miles. There's no way Drew and Kara are going to be able to resist each other for long. Not with the way they keep teasing each other.
I hang out by the beverage table, nursing a tall glass of grapefruit juice.
Tom interrupts my peace. "All the couples in like costumes have to dance together."
"What are you talking about?"
Tom isn't wearing a costume. Unless his costume is guy who doesn't keep secrets. Maybe Miles took that one.
Tom drags me to the suddenly empty dance floor. Everyone has made room for the poor suckers in couples' costumes, apparently. There are two superheroes, a Buttercup and a Dread Pirate Roberts, and there's Miles, dressed as Han freaking Solo.
His pupils dilate. His tongue slides over his lips. He wants me. Badly. I'm affecting him.
I have him under my thumb.
His lips curl into a smile. He offers his hand. "Princess."
I can't help but smile. There's no doubt in my mind—he's wearing that costume for me. He's letting other people see the nerdiness he usually keeps secret for me.
I take his hand. My smile spreads ear to ear. "Scoundrel."
He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me close. A few people cheer. Tom scurries around, forcing more people together. I'm sure he's doing this at Kara's request, but I still don't like being this close to the spotlight.
The music is fast—a pop song I don't recognize. I can't keep up. But I don't have to.
Miles moves slow. I wrap my arms around his neck and bring my body closer to his. Whatever the circumstance, his arms feel nice. Better than nice. His arms make me feel better than anything ever has.
I'm fucked. There's no resisting the pull he has over my heart.
We dance for the entire song. Then it's over, and his arms are at his side. I mumble an excuse me and disappear into the crowd. Everyone around me is dancing or screaming or chanting shots! It's worse in the kitchen. A dozen people are crowded around a table, playing Kings Cup. I know some of them from school. But worse, they know me as that buzzkill girl who never drinks and never has any fun.
One of my classmates—I think her name is Sally—waves me over. "Hey, Meg, wanna play?"
"No thanks. I have uh…" I try to think up an excuse that won't end with someone asking why I'm not drinking.
"There you are." Miles slides his arms around my waist. He nods to my fellow students. "Sorry to drag Meg away from you, but I need her desperately."
Sally's face lights up with joy. Hell, the girl looks like she's about to wet herself. I nod, yes, obviously, I can't play your drinking game because I'm needed desperately by the hot rock star. See, I'm fun. I'm cool. I'm not a buzzkill.
Miles leads me outside. It's dark and cool, and he looks damn beautiful under the light of the moon.
He brushes my hair from my eyes.
I can see his breath, that bit of heat escaping his body. Hell, I can see right into his eyes. It doesn't tell me enough. I don't know what he's thinking.
"You're sober, aren't you?" I ask.
He nods.
"I think we're the only two sober people at this party."
"You looking for a ride home?" he asks.
"No." I move to the patio furniture. My backpack is still on the table. I sit next to it. "I don't know. Were you looking to get out of here?"
He sits next to me. "Soon. What about your friend?"
"She's fine. Drew cleared his room for her."
"His room or his bed?"
"You can't tell by his mood?"
Miles laughs. "I can, actually. He's not fucking her."
"Is he that obvious?"
Miles nods. "Is she?"
"Sort of. We haven't talked about guys in a while. I've been trying hard not to think about anything but midterms and medical school."
"Have you made any decisions about where you're applying?"
"Not yet." I pull my gaze back to Miles's eyes. There's so much in them, so much I'm never going to figure out. "But I don't want to think about it tonight."
"Princess, I think you might be taking advantage of me."
My lips curl into a smile.
"Just because you're royalty, that doesn't mean you can use me for my body. Even if I am a scoundrel."
"No?" I take his hand and place it over the curve of my hip, so his fingers graze my bare skin. "You're not desperate for me to take this off?"
He shakes his head.
"So you're desperate for me to leave it on?" I press my body against his. "You have a fantasy of screwing the princess?"
"You sure this is what you want?"
I nod.
"Then let's go."
"Where?"
"My place in Malibu."
"Now?"
He stands and offers his hand. "Hey, Princess, I've got the fastest ship in the galaxy. I can get you wherever you want to go in the blink of an eye."
"You mean the death bike, don't you?"
He smirks. "You'll hurt her feelings."
Chapter Twenty-Two
I change back into my clothes for the ride to his place. It's still freezing and terrifying on the motorcycle. But that's nothing compared to all the feelings stirring inside me.
We spend the night on the couch, watching science fiction movies. Truth be told, there isn't that much watching going on. Mostly kissing, touching, fucking. It feels amazing, being this close to him. It's like we're in our own little world. Our own bubble.
Like nothing can bring us down.
We spend the night together in his bed. Spend the morning on the couch, sipping coffee and kissing and not really watching The Matrix movies.
The house is beautiful and bright but this time, it's touchable. It's intimate. It's mine. He's mine. I know he's not, that we agreed to keep this all benefits, no friendship but it feels like he's mine.
I press my lips into his. He tastes good. His legs feel good between mine. His chest feels good against mine.
But there's this sound. This annoying melody. It's familiar. It's loud. Dammit.
That's the ringtone I assigned for my parents. And I've been dodging their texts for weeks. There's no more dodging. Once they escalate to phone call, they call and call and call.
"Sorry, I have to take this." I push off the couch and grab my phone. Deep breath. "Hey, Mom. How are you?"
"I've been worried. Did you get my message about Thanksgiving?"
"Yes."
Miles runs his fingers over my shoulder. He whispers, "Tell them you've been busy because you're seeing someone."
"Excuse me." I put my phone over the speaker and turn to Miles. "Are you crazy?"
"Trust me. Tell her you have a boyfriend. It will give you something to talk about besides medical school and your sister."
He's making a compelling argument.
"I'll still come with you," he says. "For Thanksgiving. Hell, invite them to meet us at Nobu tonight. I'll impress them by paying."
"That would impress them."
"I know." He brushes my hair from my eyes. "You have to admit I'm charming. For a scoundrel."
"I don't have to admit that, no."
"But you know it's true."
"Megara." Mom's voice flows through the speaker. "Are you there?"
"Tell her," Miles mouths.
He's right. I should tell her. It's a perfect distraction. The visit will be a million times easier if I have Miles by my side. Being in that house alone, or with just Mom and Dad… It still hurts.
"I'm sorry Mom. That's just… that's Miles. My boyfriend." I take a deep breath. "We've been dating a few months now. And it's kept me busy."
"You're seeing someone?" Her voice is neutral.
"Yeah. He's great. Really, really great. Smart." Damn, what does she want to hear? I've never had to worry about my mom approving of a guy.
"Tell her I went to Stanford," Miles whispers.
That's good. "He's a little older. Graduated from Stanford a few years ago."
"Oh, that's great, sweetie. Miles, was it?" she asks.
"Yes. Miles. You'd like him." Why would she like him? Dammit, how does this parents meeting the boyfriend thing work?
"What's your mom like to do for fun?" Miles whispers.
"Give me a second, Mom." I cover the receiver with my hand and whisper to Miles. "She doesn't have time for fun. She's a surgeon." I rack my brain. Nobody in my family has had fun in a while. "She likes mythology. And foreign films."
"Skip that part. Invite me over for Thanksgiving," he says. "Trust me. She'll be excited that you want to introduce me."
That doesn't sound like Mom, but I'll try. I turn back to my cell. "Sorry, Mom. He's a little distracting. He really wants to meet you guys. Do you think he could come with me for Thanksgiving?"
"You're coming home?" Her voice perks up. "Of course, honey. We were hoping you'd come home. You don't have work?"
"No. My supervisor gave me the entire week off." I bite my tongue. There's no getting out of this now. "Miles, he doesn't have a lot of family around here. I know he'll appreciate this."
"Yes. It will be nice having company since we don't…" Her voice breaks. "You two can stay the weekend. Or just Thursday. Your father is working Friday but it's the early shift. Then the weekend—well, you know the drill."
Ah, the virtues of having a surgeon and an ER doctor for parents. They're always working. If I'd been the type to get in trouble, I could have taken advantage of their busy schedules during high school.
Actually, it's remarkable that they both have Thanksgiving off. Usually, we have dinner at an off time to accommodate their schedules.
"Have you thought about schools?" Mom asks. "UCI's program is improving. You could stay here. It would save you the trouble of finding a place."
"I'm thinking an East Coast school." This isn't where I want this conversation going. I look to Miles for direction.
He shakes his head. "Ask her how she's doing. About work or a hobby."
Yes, of course. It sounds so obvious when he says it. I turn my attention to my phone. "How is work?"
"Busy, of course. Dr. Lee is opening a private practice. She invited me to join, but I'm not sure I can leave the hospital." Mom's voice lifts. This is something she can talk about. "Is Miles at your place, honey? Or are you at his?"
"His."
"And you're being safe?"
Oh God. I'm going to die of embarrassment. But this is nothing. Mom is a surgeon who specializes in gynecology. I'm shocked she isn't using more explicit words.
"Yes, we are," I say.
Miles chuckles.
I put my hand over the phone's mic. "This is not funny."
"You're smiling," he says.
Damn, I am smiling. Okay, it's a little funny.
He motions for the phone.
It's not a bad idea, him talking to her. "Mom, Miles wants to talk to you. To say hi. He's really excited to meet you. Is that okay?"
"He sounds like a polite young man."
Now that is funny. I laugh. It's a belly laugh, one of the best laughs I've had in a while. My mom thinks my rock star fuck buddy is a polite young man.
It's absurd.
I hand the phone to Miles.
Miles laughs. He covers the receiver with his hands. "You are so fucking bad at this."
I flip him off playfully.
"Hey, Dr. Smart. This is Miles. Meg has told me so much about you." His eyes stay on mine. He's smiling ear to ear.
He sweet-talks my mom. I can tell she's charmed from over here. He's welcome to stay as long as he wants. He's thrilled to finally meet my parents he's supposedly heard so much about.
He even says goodbye and ends the call without passing it back to me.
* * *
After lunch, Miles takes me home. It's midterms week. No time for anything but school. I kiss him goodbye, warn him I'll be unavailable, and devote the entirety of my night to studying.
I don't stop until I'm about to fall asleep at my desk.
I brush my teeth and throw myself onto my bed. My phone is still blinking. There's a text from Miles.
Miles: You ready for midterms?
Meg: Not yet. I need to study. I’m not sure I’ll ever be done studying. No time for distracting rock stars with very distracting mouths.
Miles: And hands.
Meg: Yes, and we could add cocks while we're at it.
Miles: Only have the one. That not enough for you?
Meg: You know what I mean!
Miles: I'll get a sex toy.
Meg: Don't start. I have to go to bed. First midterm is at nine a.m.
Miles: Studying all night tomorrow?
Meg: All night every night.
Miles: Been thinking. Sure would be a nice benefit if you could take a relaxing study break at home.
Meg: Yeah?
Miles: Without ever leaving your bed.
Meg: I'm listening. Well, reading.
Miles: Text me tomorrow when you're done studying. For your reward.
Meg: I'm not a puppy.
Miles: You'll like it.
Meg: I'll consider it. Goodnight.
Miles: Dream about me.
I dream about finals. That same awful dream where I wake up late and arrive just as class is getting out. It doesn't happen. I'm early to every exam. I come home. I collapse, drink tea, study my ass off, and fall asleep at my desk. When I wake, my phone is buzzing with a text from Miles.
Miles: Guess that's failure. Don't worry. You can collect your reward tomorrow.
Miles: I dreamt about you.
Miles: Tell you about it later.
Cryptic, as usual. I try to put his flirting out of mind. I have an early test. I need sleep.
It doesn't work. I toss and turn. My body refuses to relax when it comes to the subject of Miles Webb.
