Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Night two. What do I do?
Given our different schedules, this whole shared front door situation has been working out better than I expected.
Although, the guys across the hall, Cooper and Van, have seen me coming and going from Cal’s room.
Given their nudges to one another, I’ll need to grab them soon and clarify their misconception before it spreads like wildfire.
They are actually pretty cool dudes. At least they aren’t the ones keeping me up with their music blasting.
Cooper is especially sweet. He’s a twenty-four-year-old sophomore and over six feet tall.
While I was initially interested in him, he’s been more like an older brother, always looking out for me.
Not that I have a brother to compare this to, but it’s how I imagine one would be.
This reminds me, I owe his roomie, Van, a coffee date, but I keep taking a rain check. One guy problem at a time.
Tonight, Cal kindly shuts off his music and turns the lights off without me asking. Should I say good night to him? Would that be weird? Too intimate? I’m about to just say it when Cal speaks first.
“My turn.”
My stomach does one of those flips upon hearing his voice—it feels amazing and awful at the same time. “Your turn what?” I ask, getting under the covers, as if that will keep me safe from my own hormones. No such luck.
“To ask a question,” he clarifies.
How can he be so annoying and sweet at the same time? And why am I starting to enjoy these late-night chats? I can’t let him know this, though. Nope, no way am I gonna show all my cards.
“Any brothers or sisters?” he asks without waiting for me to agree to a Q&A.
“Only child,” I respond, going along with his little game for the time being.
“That makes sense,” he states. When I fail to rise to his bait, he explains himself, “No wonder why you like your alone time so much.”
“I don’t share, either,” I say, throwing out another no-sibling stereotype and I’m rewarded with Cal’s laughter.
“Neither do I,” he says, somehow making it sound like his words hold a double meaning. “I’d share anything with you, though … and I can hear that eye roll again.”
“Guilty,” I admit. “How about you? Any siblings?”
“I have an older sister. She’s a lawyer down in Boston.”
“That’s cool,” I say, processing this. He’s so masculine that I’d assumed he’d grown up with a house full of guys, but now I can easily picture him with a successful sister, trying to fill her shoes while annoying her too.
“Your turn,” he prods.
“Fine, here’s my question. Can I please go to sleep?”
I can hear the amusement in his voice when he replies, “I don’t know, can you?”
“Not with you talking.” And being all sexy over there.
“Ask me a real question and I will stop.”
I sit on that for a second, a million questions running through my mind. How exactly am I not like whoever that girl was? Do you really think I’m pretty? Do you know I heard you that night?
The last question has me swallowing hard and squirming.
It was the second Cal embarrassment that I didn’t want to recall in front of my friends the other day.
During our first week, the slamming of Cal’s door had woken me up around two in the morning, and I could hear him and his girlfriend going at it.
The rhythmic squeaking of his bed, the girl’s moans, his groans, even wet, smacking noises, fuck!
I’m hot just recalling that night. I should have been mortified, but after I was fully awake, it had …
well, turned me on. Boy, how it turned me on.
I’d never admit it to anyone, but I was envious.
Touching myself, I pictured I was with him, and the result had been my wettest orgasm ever.
Now, it’s my freakin’ go-to anytime I fantasize, which is another reason why Cal riles me so. He went and infiltrated my spank bank.
“I’m waiting,” Cal calls out, and I’m thankful for the darkness so he can’t see me quivering with desire over here.
I rack my lust-filled brain for a real question. “Why track?”
“With a last name like Chase, I was born to run,” he replies.
Although it sounds like a rehearsed line, I still laugh. Or was that a giggle? Dammit, April! “Clever,” I admit. “But seriously, why track?”
“I do like serious April,” he murmurs, and my belly does another flip, but this time it lingers, simmering in my stomach.
“I run because it’s the one thing I’ve always been good at.
As a kid, I was the fastest in my grade, and I liked the distinction so much that I made sure to keep it that way.
So, I started training, running farther, longer, and soon, everyone was in my dust, even older classmates. ”
“You like to win,” I state, nodding to myself.
“I just don’t like to lose,” he corrects.
I bite my tongue to keep from spitting back that it’s the same thing, but maybe it’s not? I admire his drive. I can’t really say I’ve focused on a talent as vigilantly. Maybe my poetry, but that’s subjective not competitive.
“It’s not a career, though,” he adds, and my eyebrows knit, not liking the solemness of his tone.
“Why not?”
“It’s not realistic.” He says this as if it’s a statement he’s heard from others before.
I feel compelled to defend his childhood dreams. “Neither is opening a bookstore when no one buys physical books anymore, but I can still dream it, want it.”
“Yeah, but you can actually turn your passion for reading into a future. You can become a writer, an editor, a researcher, a professor … hell, a librarian. Oh dang, the latter sounds hot. I would so check out more books if I had the opportunity to check you out, too. Nope, forget that idea. You’d be too distracting for those wanting to really study. ”
Whatever I was about to say has lodged into my throat. A strange happiness wells up inside me. “While I appreciate that you think I have such powers, I doubt that would be a problem.”
He snorts. “Um … have you looked into a mirror? You’re a total siren.”
Now it’s my turn to snort. Siren is not a term that applies to me.
While I’m tempted to have him go on and talk about me some more, I realize how needy of me that is and I mentally yell at myself.
“So, what are your career plans then after you graduate?” For some reason, the idea of him graduating at the end of this school year is making me depressed.
I still have another year to go. A year without Cal next door. Shouldn’t I be happy?
“Why, I’m so glad you asked, April,” he replies, and my fists tighten at his teasing tone. Yup, he’s a pain. “I’m thinking of getting my MBA and possibly pursuing a job in sports marketing or sports technology.”
“Wow,” I say, impressed. That seems like a good fit for him, although I didn’t expect his desire for extra schooling. Thatcher College has a wonderful graduate program, so maybe he’ll continue here? The unease in my stomach calms. “At least it’s still related to your passion.”
“Yeah. During our summer breaks, I’ve been interning at McCain Marketing Agency in New York City. They have a dope sports division and rep some big names.” He pauses for a second. “Although, the VP who runs the department, Richard Dekker, is a total douche.”
“Oh yeah?” I call out over a yawn. “How so?”
“Lets just say he acts like the sexual harassment guide that all the employees received was a how-to.” Cal says with disgust. “A real womanizer.”
His comment has me scrunching up my face. “Huh, I’d think you two would hit it off then.”
“What does that mean?” his tone defensive.
I shrug even though he can’t see me. “Two peas in a pod.”
“You think I’m a sleazy womanizer?” he asks, and I can hear his surprise.
“I know so,” I state emphatically, folding my arms across my chest, refusing to back down because he’s offended at hearing the truth. Good.
Click! The fluorescent tube lights above me go on, filling my room with their brightness.
“What the hell?” I shout. My eyes are slowly adjusting when I see a shirtless Cal in drawstring, checkered pajama pants filling the fully open doorway.
His brows are furrowed, and he looks pissed. Hot AF, but angry as fuck, too.
“Is that what your problem is?” he asks with his hands on his hips, and I spy that sexy V line that dips below his loose pants.
“Um … my problem?” I stumble out momentarily confused.
His intensity silences me. The color of his eyes resembles a rich, dark chocolate bar, my favorite. I can’t hold his gaze, so I shift my attention down to stare at his pecks instead and immediately realize my mistake. Sitting up ram-rod straight, my sheet slips to my waist as I glare back at him.
Thankfully, I’m at least wearing my cute, yellow, silk camisole set to bed. To be honest, I wore it just in case we should see one another tonight. This is not the occasion I was expecting, though. “My problem is that you’re in my room.”
“Tough. You think I’m a womanizer?” He repeats.
“No, I know you are a womanizer, player, fuckboy, or whatever you want to call it.”
Cal jolts his head back as if I slapped him. “And what makes you think this?”
I point to where he is standing. “We share a connecting door, remember? The one you just barged through.”
“Your point?”
“My point is I hear you all the time in there with girls.”
“So what? They’re just friends.”
“More like friends with benefits,” I shoot back.
He’s shaking his head and looking at me like I’m the deranged one.
“Benefits like studying, you mean? My mom raised me better than that, and my sister would chew me out if I acted like a fuckboy,” he says while stepping farther inside my room.
“I’ve only had two relationships since being at Thatcher College.
One freshman year and most recently, my ex-girlfriend, Trina, but we broke up last year before summer break. ”
I give him a look that I hope says I wasn’t born yesterday. “And what about the porno I overheard at the start of this school year?”