FRAT PARTY PART ONE #2
I know he’s not insinuating what it sounds like he is; he’s the strictest ‘no repeats’ guy I’ve ever met. That is only solidified when I pull back enough to meet his gaze, because it’s not flirty at all. It’s full of concern.
My brain is in a tailspin. Marcus is on my right, with someone else in his arms, and the knowledge that, while it feels so wrong and it fucking aches to look at them, it’s the way things should be.
Kingston is on my left, looking at me like he thinks he has some stupid chance of me replacing whatever woman is in his arms right now.
And then there’s Cade’s concern. He knows something’s wrong and is trying to figure out what it is so he can help as best he can.
An idea pops into my head. I don’t know where it came from, or even what I think it’ll accomplish. But before my rational brain can chase the errant, stupid thought away, my body follows through on it before I permit it to do so.
“Closer,” I rasp out as my weight shifts from my heels to the balls of my feet, and I raise my face until my lips meet Cade’s.
The reminder that I don’t kiss people slams into my brain just a fraction of a second too late, because it’s already happening, and if I pull back now, it’ll fail to send the message I need my two onlookers to get. I can’t be Marcus’s, and I won’t be Kingston’s.
Cade’s eyes widen in surprise because he already knows my rules, but his arms tighten around my waist, and he follows my lead. I deepen the kiss; at this point, the show has already begun; might as well make it a good one.
Cade doesn’t disappoint, matching my enthusiasm.
Doesn’t hurt that, despite the amount of chaos happening, he really is a good kisser.
However, realizing that just makes the fact that I can’t seem to feel anything more beyond simply acknowledging it even more obvious as to how wholly fucked up doing this at all is.
Eventually, air becomes a thing, and Cade pulls away, effectively ending the kiss.
I’m so completely wrapped up in what the kiss was supposed to accomplish that I don’t even pause a moment to look him in the eye.
Instead, my eyes flick to the cold sneer I know so well on Kingston’s face before he angles away from me and focuses more on the woman in his arms. I couldn’t really care less.
I wanted him to get the message that I’m in no way pining for him, and the look on his face says the message was received loud and clear.
It’s when I look towards Marcus that the weight of my actions finally catches up to me.
Imani is pulling him away from the dancefloor, and her intentions have been obvious enough not to have to guess where she’s hoping things will lead to tonight.
But while he’s letting her steer him away, his eyes are still on me, and like a kick to the gut, there’s so much defeat, anger, and frustration in his face that he looks like he’s about to cry.
My stomach coils up in knots, and the urge to be sick lodges itself in my throat.
My gaze is torn away from Marcus when Cade’s fingers tip my chin up in a way that is so reminiscent of how Marcus does it that it jars my system and has me pulling back instinctively because it’s the right move, my favorite move, but by the wrong person.
“Should we complete the show by letting me carry you upstairs, or are you just going to follow me so we can talk?” Cade says, and it takes my breath away how in the short time that’s passed between ending the kiss and now, I’d somehow already managed to forget him.
Cade’s eyebrow crooks up with a mixture of concern and amusement, but without a trace of the anger that really should be there.
Just as he knows my rules, I know his. That was crossing a major boundary.
He doesn’t have a no-kissing rule, but we have already been down the hook-up road, and he has a no-turning-back rule.
And while it was just a kiss, it was still completely unconsented.
“I’ll follow,” I say weakly, knowing there’s no way he heard me, but he nods his head anyway.
His hand wraps around my hip while he leads me towards the stairs, leaning into me as if we’re going up there for a whole different reason other than to talk. And somehow, I don’t know where he is, but I can feel Marcus’s eyes follow me up.
A part of me knows that the moment I go up there, it’ll be the last thing holding Marcus back from Imani. By following Cade, I’m giving him a physical permission that I’ve already given him verbally. I can still stop all of this.
My heart beats furiously in my chest, while my brain focuses on Cade’s steady hand leading me away from the room. When Cade closes his bedroom door behind us, a piece of my heart blinks out of existence as the music is muted by the soft thud.
Cade’s love of luxury and the color black are evident in every nook and cranny of his room.
It would be almost oppressive if it weren’t for the strategic pops of burgundy and emerald spread throughout.
Memories of the one and only other time I’ve ever been in here run through my mind, and I almost deflate.
Despite Cade being an amazing time, it was only ever supposed to be that. I was never supposed to be up here again, and even though I know we aren’t up here for that, the boundaries I just violated have my stomach in enough knots for me to feel dizzy and more than just a bit queasy.
“If you were anyone else, I would almost be doing a happy dance at the chance to fuck with you. But since it’s you, I can’t really muster up the enthusiasm for it,” Cade says conversationally.
Knowing Cade as I do has that landing pretty hard.
He’s using nonchalance to mask the depth of his feelings because he’s really not the type to open up and lay himself bare in front of anyone.
From him, though, that’s about as close to a confession of deep friendship as one can ever expect, and one I’d be willing to bet only a very few get it.
“Cade, I…” I start to say, but Cade tsks at me before I can finish.
“If you’re about to apologize, then you might as well save it. I offered closer. I didn’t think you’d take it that close, but it feels odd to be angry about getting something from you that I once fought so hard to get,” he says with amusement.
I swallow again at the memories of the night we shared.
As soon as Cade realized kissing was off the table, his competitiveness to always get what he wants surfaced, and while I never gave in to him, it doesn’t change the fact that he spent most of that night trying for it.
If anyone other than the one I want to kiss most was going to get my kiss, then I’m okay with it being Cade.
At least I can trust Cade not to make anything more out of it than what it was.
“I still shouldn’t have–” I start to apologize again, but the fucker cuts me off… again.
“Maybe not with someone else, but you have no idea how much satisfaction I got out of that dickhead’s expression when you kissed me. I almost wish you’d have let me carry you up the stairs and let that fucker watch me eat your lips the whole way up.”
My initial bristling at being interrupted twice in a row is overshadowed by actual anger when he starts gloating about how much we hurt Marcus and his desire to hurt him even more.
I don’t know why Cade would have anything against Marcus at all, but it suddenly makes everything so much worse.
The room starts spinning even though I haven’t had a drop to drink.
“Whoa, little pixie, let’s sit down before we fall,” he says as he steers me to the foot of his bed to sit on.
The kind gesture wars so hard against the acid in my stomach that I’ve just hurt Marcus with someone who wants to hurt him.
“What do you have against Marcus?” I almost whisper, and even I can hear the despair in the question, so there’s no way Cade doesn’t catch it. The lift of his brow only further proves that.
“Marcus?” he asks, confusion evident in his tone, until his lips quirk up and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “Oh-ho, well, this just got so much more interesting,” he says with enjoyment in his voice.
Fucker is way too much of a gossip whore, and I somehow just accidentally walked right into a trap. One that doesn’t need to be entertained now that I’ve firmly shut these doors.
“It’s not… no,” I so eloquently say in response.
Cade laughs. “Oh, but it so is,” he almost crows with delight. “He’s so ridiculously possessive over you; I honestly thought the only reason you weren’t together yet was because you didn’t want him. But evidently that summation is wrong.”
I shake my head at that. There’s no way to know Marcus and not want him. I hate it so much that I could have him, and that I absolutely can’t have him at the same time.
“It’s just better if we don’t, you know. Neither of us are relationship people; we’d probably torpedo that shit in a week,” I say, shooting for nonchalance.