11. Teddy
CHAPTER 11
TEDDY
“Dude, why are there so many fucking cookies in here?” Jude swipes one from a plate and pops it in his mouth. “Not that I’m complaining,” he spews cookie as he speaks, “but I’m going to end up gaining ten pounds, and it’s going to be hard to explain.”
He rubs his rock-hard abs and me being me, I lift my apron to show off my own since I’m shirtless beneath it.
And yeah, I wear an apron when I cook. A really fucking manly one.
Okay, so maybe it’s blue and white polka dots with a white frilly lace, but since I’m the one wearing it, I make it manly. Besides, Maggie got it for me, and I’ll never ever get rid of it.
“I’m stressed,” I grumble, turning away from him to pull out another batch from the oven.
When I’m stressed, I bake. It’s the only thing that seems to bring me any sort of peace when I’m in a certain mood. Right now, I have way too many things weighing heavily on my mind. Baseball, graduation looming, my father, and now Vanessa and the fact that I think I’m catching feelings.
I’ve never had feelings for a girl beyond lust.
But in the short time of getting to know Vanessa I find myself wanting to be around her and spend more time with her. She’s cool, and feisty, and fucking gorgeous. Sure, I think about what it’d be like to have sex with her, but it’s more than that, and it terrifies me.
He picks up another cookie and sniffs it before shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “You’re going to have to start handing these out on campus to get rid of them.”
I don’t tell him, but I have been.
“Are you gonna be at Cree’s tonight?”
It’s a dumb question, of course he will be, but I’d like to move the convo away from my cookies.
“Fuck yeah, man.” He swipes another cookie and saunters back to his room. “I’m not going to miss out on a good time.” The door closes behind him and I whip off my apron, hanging it on the plastic hook beside the fridge.
I throw the cookies that are already cooled into a plastic baggy and leave the rest sitting out. I’ll need to pick up Vanessa soon, so I hop in the shower. I don’t want to smell like baked goods. At least tonight will be casual and fun, not like this weekend’s dinner. I can’t believe my father has roped us into this, but at the same time this is exactly the kind of shit he likes to pull. I swear the fucker gets off on making people as uncomfortable as possible.
Changing into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt, I stuff my feet into a pair of boots, and slip on a jacket. I know some guys get off on not bothering with a coat in the cold so they can be like Queen Elsa and say the cold never bothered them anyway, but that’s not me. It’s fucking freezing, and I’m putting on something warm.
I shoot a text to Vanessa that I’m leaving my dorm and then holler the same to Jude, who calls back that he’s leaving later.
I walk over to Vanessa’s dorm, flashing a smile at the girl who lets me in. She bats her eyes back and my smile disappears. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.
Instead of waiting for the elevator, I take the stairs up to her floor and knock on the door when I arrive. For once there aren’t any girls lingering in the halls.
Vanessa opens the door and steps out.
I can’t help myself when I look her up and down. She’s wearing a pair of fitted jeans that hug her legs and accentuate her hips. I want nothing more than to grab her and pull her into me, to kiss her like I did in the dining hall. Fuck, that kiss has been living in my head rent free since then. I did it because I wanted to know if it would be as good as I thought it’d be.
It was better.
But then, I had the cover of our fellow student body to play into the ‘show’. Now, there’s no one, so if I kiss her it’ll be suspicious, and it’s way too soon to be telling my fake-girlfriend that I think I might be catching real feelings.
I shove those thoughts out of my head, putting on a carefree smile and tossing an arm around her shoulders. “Are you excited to party tonight, Van?”
She scrunches her nose. “Not particularly.”
“Aw, don’t be like that. You’re going to love it.”
“I don’t like it,” Vanessa announces as soon as we walk into the door. She grabs onto the side of my arm, sticking to me like glue. The lights are dimmed, a song by ILLENIUM blasting from several Bluetooth speakers stationed throughout the house.
“We only need to stay a little while.”
“I can’t believe this is how I’m spending my night off.” I feel a tad bad for dragging her out when she puts it like that, but I need to make frequent public appearances with her to establish our narrative and keep the girls on campus from leeching onto me.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“How?” She looks doubtful.
“Somehow.” I lead her back to the kitchen where the drinks always are. “You want anything?” I go to the fridge where I stashed my Zombie Dust earlier in the day since I was driving by.
“Yeah, give me whatever you’re having.”
I pop the top on both and pass one to her, clinking our glasses together. “Bottoms up.”
She scrunches her nose like a bunny and takes a sip. Her lips turn down and she chokes out, “That’s delicious.”
I throw my head back in laughter. “Don’t lie to me, Van.”
“I don’t like beer.”
I lean my hip against the counter, looking her up and down. My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I fight to say the things I want to, because I know I’d send her running screaming into the other direction. My dick stirs in my jeans at my overwhelming attraction to her.
“What do you like?” I hope to fuck my voice doesn’t sound as high to her as it did to me.
“Margaritas.”
I tip the bottle to my lips, her eyes following my movements. “Guess I’ll have to take you back to Harvey’s then.”
She doesn’t reply, instead she’s looking around at all the people crowded into the kitchen. Taking another sip of beer, she cringes and glares at the bottle.
Chuckling, I take the bottle from her and put it back in the fridge.
“Let’s dance.”
Her eyes threaten to bug out of her head. “I hate dancing.” Her eyes dart around like she’s afraid all these people here will be judging her.
“We’re at a party, Van. Let go ,” I urge her. Holding out a hand, I plead, “Trust me. You had fun dancing with me at Harvey’s, didn’t you?”
Her eyes flicker back and forth from my outstretched hand to my own eyes, and I see the hesitation in hers. My stomach drops because I don’t know if the hesitation is from truly not wanting to dance or if she’s thinking of how last time I ended up kissing her.
I take another gulp of beer and stick it in the fridge beside hers. “We’re doing this.”
I don’t give her a chance to overthink it or protest before I take her hand and lead her out of the kitchen.
It’s not the song playing, but a couple of guys are yell-singing Harry Styles’ Sweet Creature at Cree.
“What are they doing?” Vanessa eyes the rowdy hockey players surrounding Cree who’s standing in the corner of the room with a drink.
“Ah, it’s a thing they do a lot with him.”
“Why?” she asks, crinkling her nose again. I’m not sure she’s aware she does it and it’s one of those things I find endearingly adorable about her.
“His name’s Cree.” I shrug like that explains it all, because to me it does.
“I’m still not following.”
“Oh, the guys on the hockey team call him Creature because of his name.”
I put my hands on her hips, and she stiffens for a second. Exhaling a breath, she loosens a small bit.
“Relax,” I murmur in her ear, “dancing is supposed to be fun.”
Blue eyes, dark as the ocean, stare back at me. “I’m sure it is, if you have rhythm.”
I chuckle, my fingers splaying onto her ass as I encourage her to move to the same beat. “You’ve got rhythm. Believe me.” Her cheeks pinken at my words, and she starts to tense up again. She looks around the room, anywhere but at me. “Get outta that pretty head of yours.”
Her eyes dart back to mine, determination glinting there. Her arms wind around my neck, and I don’t know what comes over her, but she lets go of whatever was holding her back and really starts to dance. I move with her, getting lost in the music, in the feel of our bodies.
I’ve always loved dancing, which isn’t something I readily admit to. Baseball is fun, and I do love it, but it’s hard work and long hours of practice. Dancing is a way to express myself. Sure, I’m no professional and not any good, but that doesn’t matter, and it’s what I want Vanessa to realize. You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it.
Vanessa licks her full pink lips, and my eyes track the movement helplessly. I swallow thickly, cursing myself for being affected by every little thing she does. The thing about this girl is she’s sexy as fuck and doesn’t even know it. She’s not trying to turn me on like so many other girls have in the past.
She turns around, shimmying her ass against my crotch, and I bite back a groan.
“Van,” I say in a low, warning growl.
She stiffens when she notices my rock-hard erection. Looking over her shoulder at me, her eyes are filled with surprise. “Is that for me?”
I wrap my hand around her neck, holding her in place so she can’t look away from me.
“You know it is.”
Her lips lift into a coy smile. “I probably shouldn’t like that.” Her voice drops to a low murmur, “But I do.”
Fuck.
My hands tighten on her hips. “Van,” I growl her name in warning, and she gives a small laugh, spinning back around to face me.
“You know,” she giggles, rubbing her fingers against the back of my neck, “I think you’re right. Dancing isn’t so bad.”
“Don’t toy with me.” I narrow my eyes on her.
She laughs, standing up on her tiptoes so she can reach my ear. “But it’s so fun.” She drags a finger down my chest, her eyes following the trail she makes. “We can’t go there, though. I won’t … I won’t do that.”
I lower my head like I’m going to kiss her, and she gasps, but I move from her lips to the crook of her neck. “Are you sure about that?”
Startled eyes dart to mine and then her arms slacken around me as she moves away. I silently curse myself for saying that. I didn’t mean it. I know nothing like that can happen between us. I need her too much to ruin our arrangement just because I want to fuck her. But sometimes I can’t help the things I say.
“Come on,” I reach for her hand, “I’m sorry. That was a dick thing to say.”
She glowers at me, and despite being nearly a foot shorter than me I somehow feel like I’m being scolded and put in my place.
“Yeah, it was.” That blue-eyed glare holds me prisoner in the center of the room. Other couples continue to dance but shoot us annoyed glances for standing in place. “That shit might work with other girls, but not me. I know … I know what this arrangement is, and it’s not real,” she whispers the last under her breath so no one else can hear, but I’m able to read her lips. “I won’t allow myself to be used. Never again.”
“Fuck,” I curse, looking away from her when I realize what she’s reminded of. In my lust induced haze it didn’t even cross my mind. “I would never do that to you. I swear it.”
She looks me solidly in the eyes and after an appraising moment, nods. “You’re right, you wouldn’t. Underneath all the cocky things you say, you’re a good guy, Teddy, but please, stop talking about getting me in bed. I’m…” She pauses and gestures to my suddenly tight jeans. “Flattered, and yeah, you’re hot, but this,” she wags a finger between us, “isn’t for that, and I won’t blur the lines.”
I guess I should be glad one of us is sensible, but instead it strikes me that maybe she’s not as attracted to me as I am her.
“I’ll stop making sexual comments.”
She frowns, almost like that’s not what she wants, but all she says is, “Good.”
“Can we dance again?” I offer my hand like a gentleman in a period piece. “I’ll keep my mouth shut, but him,” I look pointedly at my crotch, “I can’t help.”
She giggles at that, biting her lip before she looks away. She seems to be coming to terms with something and then takes my hand.
Dancing with her is nice, more than nice, but I remind myself I can’t go there with her. I’ve managed to stay celibate this long. Less than four more months longer won’t kill me.
I think.
“Why does Cree throw these parties?” she asks, looking over at the guy who’s sitting on the couch looking bored out of his mind while a girl leans over, boobs in his face, trying to get his attention. He pointedly ignores her chest, unlike me who wouldn’t be able to not ogle a nice pair of tits.
“Beats me.” I shrug. “Because he’s off campus, I guess.”
“Maybe,” she hedges, “but he looks miserable.”
She’s not wrong. “I don’t really question other people about their motives,” I admit sheepishly. “I figure if something is my business, they’ll let me know.”
“You don’t get curious about things?”
A pit forms in my stomach. I don’t know how much I want or should share with her.
“At an early age I learned not to ask questions, or…”
“Or?” she prompts, when my gaze drifts away, my jaw clenches tight.
“It was either ask questions and get beaten or stay silent and unhurt.” Her gasp is loud enough to be heard over the music, earning us more than a few stares. Forget dancing. Gripping her hand, I lead her out of the room and back to the kitchen, where I grab my drink—I’m going to need it if we’re having this conversation—and then lead her upstairs. I check Murray’s room and find it empty, so I pull her inside and lock the door behind us. She looks around uneasily and I feel even more like shit than I did before. “I brought you in here for privacy for this conversation, not so I could fuck you.”
“Right.” She stares at the bed like maybe she is wondering what it’d be like if I did.
“Look, no one knows about my dad. No one,” I repeat, sitting down in Murray’s desk chair. The desk is piled with empty snack bags and water bottles. Dude needs to clean his room.
She looks at me in surprise. “Surely your friends?—”
I shake my head and she frowns. “I’ve never told a soul. Until you.”
She walks over hesitantly, like I’m a cornered animal she’s wary of spooking. “Why not?” She sits on the floor in front of me, crisscrossing her legs. Her hand lands on my knee, her touch tentative but comforting nonetheless.
“Because it felt weak.”
“Weak?” She rears back in surprise.
“I know that sounds dumb, but it’s true. I didn’t want anyone to think I was pathetic or even worse, that I deserved it.”
Her tiny gasp sounds incredibly loud in the otherwise silent room. “Teddy,” her tone is soft, pleading with me. “No one, definitely not your friends, would ever think that. When did it start?”
“I don’t really remember.” I give a humorless laugh. “Young, I know that much. It started with spanking if I did anything remotely out of line, then moved to punches, but always in places where no one would see. Thankfully, I was away a lot at school, but summers, holidays … he always found something I did horribly wrong and needed punishing for.”
“God, Teddy.”
“Sometimes he did visit me at boarding school just to remind me of what would happen if I didn’t stay in line.”
I see the pain in her eyes, and I curse myself for letting her in on my terrible secret. I don’t want her to have to carry this burden too.
“I’m sorry,” I touch her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin, “I shouldn’t have told you.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “Yes, you should have. I’m glad you did. It helps me understand you better and your dynamic with your parents.” She pauses, biting her lip. “Does your mom know?”
“She has to. He’s never done it in front of her, but I think she knows.”
“And she never stopped it?” Vanessa looks horrified on my behalf. Taking my hand from her cheek, I place it on top of hers on my knee. She immediately wraps her fingers into mine and it makes me feel ridiculously centered and at peace to feel her touch.
“I’m pretty sure he hits her too. I mean, he’s an emotionally and verbally abusive asshole anyway. I don’t ever want to be like him, Van,” I admit my biggest fear. “I don’t want to be that kind of father. How could I ever hit my own kid?”
I picture my own child in the distant future and there’s no way I could ever raise a hand against them. I’d take my own life before I’d do that.
With her free hand she touches her fingertips to the line of my jaw. “You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you wouldn’t have that fear otherwise. You’re not him. You’re you. You are your own person. You define your way.”
“Fuck.” Actual tears sting my eyes. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.”
She gives me a watery smile, and I realize she’s nearly about to cry too. “It’s the truth.”
I bend down, my nose grazing hers. “I really want to kiss you right now,” I confess. “Not for show, not because anyone is watching. I want to kiss you for me. Because I want to.”
She surprises me by nodding eagerly like she wants this as badly as I do.
Bending down from where I sit, I cup her jaw in one hand tilting her lips up to meet mine. She makes a tiny noise the moment our lips touch. I didn’t know I could literally be brought to my knees by kissing a girl, but I find myself slipping from the chair and kneeling above her cross-legged position.
Her lips part and I use the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
She arches into me, her breasts pushing into my chest. The urge to run my hands over her body is strong, but I hold her cheeks instead, forcing myself not to take this further. Not after the talk we had earlier.
A kiss has always been a means to an end for me, to get to the fun stuff—you know, sex. But knowing that’s not where this is headed makes it all the sweeter and more intense.
This is a kiss that matters, and I feel a pull in my stomach, one that’s telling me I’m fucked when it comes to this girl.
I force myself to pull away, knowing I’ll get carried away if I don’t stop this. Her surprised blue eyes stare deep into mine as she raises trembling fingers to her kiss swollen lips.
Yeah, baby, my gaze tells her, I’m the last man you’re ever going to kiss .