21. Posey
Posey
When I get out of the shower, there are two lattes sitting on the island, but no man in my bed. I draw the towel tighter around me and check the counter for a note, but there’s nothing. Someone had to let him in.
“Was Brent here?” I call out to no one in particular. Nadiya’s and Destiny’s doors are both closed.
Deacon opens Destiny’s door and peers out. “Dropped off the lattes. Promised to bring me one next time. I gave Destiny hers. You just missed him.”
First he ignores my orgasm call last night, and this morning he doesn’t stay to fulfill the second part of our deal either.
Annoyance zips through me. I showered and brushed my teeth in anticipation of a hot guy who smells like chlorine lounging in my bed.
With a huff, I grab my latte and head to my room.
At my desk, I set down my drink and collapse into my chair, letting it spin around while I check social media.
Sure enough, Val has posted captions to her photos that reference her boyfriend and things they’ve been doing without naming him.
As I scroll through the comments, her followers are questioning the lack of thirst traps this week.
You won’t be getting any more of those, people. My fingers hover over my keyboard, tempted to stir the pot.
There’s a knock on my door, and I close my phone. “Come in.”
The door creaks open, and Nadiya stands at the entrance cradling her latte. “I mean, it’s not an orgasm, but I’ll take it.”
“Apparently it’s all I get this morning too.” I hold up my cup in a cheers motion. “How are you doing? I didn’t want to ask last night, but I saw West with that other girl on the dance floor.”
“It’s whatever.” Nadiya stares at the lid of her latte. “I broke up with him.”
“Does that make it easier?”
Her laugh holds no humor. “It should, shouldn’t it?” Her finger circles the rim of her cup, and she glances up. “Did Brent say why he didn’t answer the phone last night?”
“He didn’t even stay to talk to me.” I drum my nails on the desk.
Nadiya tilts her cup up. “You’ve been attached at the hip up until last night.” Her eyes widen. “Unless he’s back with Val. Did you read her post this morning?”
“He wouldn’t do that—” To me. “He doesn’t want her back.
” If she offered him a threesome and he didn’t bow down to that mating call, he’s probably in the clear.
Another week together should cement his certainty and hers that they’re done, and then we can go our separate ways.
He probably doesn’t need me now, but I’m not keen to eliminate my free lattes and an abundance of male-generated orgasms just yet. Both of those are hard to find.
“You’re putting a lot of faith in a guy you met just over a week ago.”
“As you pointed out, we’ve spent a lot of time together.” I do a slow spin in my chair and grab my latte on the way around.
“Weird he didn’t stay this morning,” Nadiya says, and she raises her eyebrows in mock innocence over the lid of the to-go cup.
“The beauty of a temporary, fake relationship is that I don’t have to care why Brent didn’t stay this morning.
He gave me part one of the deal, and I’m sure part two will happen later tonight.
” A knot forms in my stomach despite my breezy declaration.
We might have only known each other a week, but he hasn’t been one to turn down sex.
That’s his whole Val issue—he’s incapable of thinking with anything other than his dick.
It wasn’t his dick that steered him out the front door instead of into my bed.
“Yeah,” Nadiya says with a rueful smile. “You don’t seem bothered at all.” She raises her latte and draws my door shut.
The house Deacon shares with the other basketball players is one of the biggest off-campus rentals I’ve ever seen.
It’s owned by a basketball alumnus who went pro.
To live here players have to be stars on the court and maintain a stellar GPA.
The entire main floor is wide open apart from a master bedroom suite and a powder room.
The furniture could be rearranged to create more distinct spaces, but the one time I mentioned it to Deacon, he just laughed at me.
Not every guy is opposed to having their furniture rearranged.
Near the front door, I’m deep in conversation with Natalie.
It’s the first time we’ve run into each other since the wedding, and I’ve been filling her in on Val’s antics while Sebastian socializes with some of the other elite athletes from Northern’s roster.
Brent will fit right in whenever he finally arrives.
Destiny approaches on my left with a drink for me. “A Bellerive Blue,” she says, passing me the mixed drink. “Chet mixed it for you and asked me to deliver it.”
“Is it safe to drink?” I sniff it and narrow my eyes.
“If it’s not, Deacon and Chet will be having words.” Destiny plucks it from my hand and takes a mouthful.
“He’d roofie your drink?” Nat asks.
“Doubtful,” I admit. “But Chet and I had an arrangement for a while, and he proved to be slippery. Not in a good way.” I take my drink back from Destiny.
“‘Slimy’ is a better word. I’m glad he got booted from the house,” Destiny says.
“Math and honesty—two things he’s not good at,” I say.
“I cannot follow this conversation.” Nat laughs and shakes her head. “Were you dating him?”
“Posey doesn’t date,” Destiny says. “Or maybe you do now?” She raises her eyebrows. “Fuckable Faulkner has been making regular appearances.”
“Fake dating,” I say, “is not the same as real dating.”
“And yet it bears an incredible resemblance to the real thing.”
“It has to,” Nat says, “in order to be credible as real.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I offer her a fist bump. From the outside, fake and real can look similar, but Brent and I know the difference. I take a sip of the drink Chet mixed me and wince. Much like Chet, the balance isn’t quite right. Too much alcohol and not enough fruit juice.
For a while last semester, Chet and I were sleeping together.
I’m very open with my sexual positions and my alcoholic beverage choices.
Much like the alcohol content in a drink, I like to understand what I’m getting myself into when I sleep with a guy more than once.
For safety’s sake, I insist on knowing any other ongoing sexual partners.
I don’t care about exclusive, but I do care about risk assessment.
Chet told me there weren’t any others, and that was a bold lie.
Sebastian calls Nat’s name from the kitchen, and she excuses herself to get the rum swizzle he mixed her. Once she’s gone, Destiny eyes me. “You’ve been tense since we arrived. You waiting for your boyfriend to turn up? What time does his practice end?”
An hour ago. Not that I checked our synced schedules five times or anything. I take a long gulp of the shitty drink Chet mixed. “Nope. He just needs to be here in time to take me home.”
“Incoming,” Destiny says behind her hand.
I half turn to see Chet swaggering toward us.
As the point guard for the Northern Ravens, he’s not the tallest guy on the team, but he’s still got an impressive build.
I’ve seen better. He has his own Bellerive Blue dangling from his fingers, and I can’t help wondering if it tastes as terrible as mine.
“Chet.” I raise my glass. “Still shit at mixing drinks, I see. You any better in bed yet?”
There are a few snickers around us, and I hide my smile behind the rim of my glass.
“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Destiny says. “You’ve clearly got this covered.” She pats Chet’s chest on the way past him to see Deacon. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”
“Luck is for people who don’t have skill,” he says, and he winks at me.
Gross. I give him a saccharine smile. “What are your skills exactly? None are jumping out at me.” Juggling women, perhaps.
“I’m happy to give you a demonstration to remind you.” He loops his arm around my waist, and he half carries me to pin me against the wall.
Brent’s done a similar move, and it was sexy as hell. This, at a party, when I’ve made it clear for months that he lost his chance, is repulsive. When my back hits the wall, I glare at him, and then I splash what’s left of my shitty drink in his smug face.
His expression turns from amused to pissed off in a flash. Instead of unpinning me, he leans closer and lets the liquid drip off his chin and into my cleavage. “I can lick that off later. Once you apologize for being a bitch.”
“The only thing I might apologize for later, and even that’s doubtful, is this.” Then I raise my knee fast and hard right into his balls.
Chet lets out a deep groan just as the front door opens beside me and someone calls out a greeting to Brent. Chet stumbles back, clutching himself, and when I glance at the entrance, Brent is taking in the scene. His expression goes from confused to angry in a split second.
My stomach flips when our gazes connect.
We haven’t spoken or even exchanged a single text all day.
Since I came out of the shower this morning and discovered he didn’t stay, there’s been a low-level buzz of anxiety in my gut.
While I wasn’t sure what to expect from Brent when he arrived, it’s clear what’s on his mind now.
Murder.