Hustle

A chill prickles across my skin as I turn towards him. Looking into his eyes is a mistake, but inescapable. He appears sincere; nothing like the rude boy who labeled me scared and dismissed me for not taking him to my room.

But it is him.

I slip my fingers out of his light hold as I step back. “Not tonight, I’m going home now.”

“Should I get a cab for you?” Scott speaks up, still standing off to the side of us, his light eyes carefully trained on me.

“You should go back inside. I’ll make sure she gets home,” there’s a dominance running through Andrew’s casual tone and the way he holds himself, obviously bigger than Scott.

Scott doesn’t move or respond to him, but looks back to me with a question in his gaze.

My heart’s skipping beats, but I respond to Scott, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

There’s a moment, a brief, terrible moment, that I think he might not leave, but then he nods and walks away, back to the frat that’s still lit up and pulsing from the music playing inside. It may be the middle of the night, but the area is just as alive as when we arrived, maybe even more so.

I avoid looking at Andrew as I head for the sidewalk.

“Just give me a minute.” He cuts off my path with a few long strides.

“For what?” I step back to look up at him, and my urge to flea makes me louder than necessary. “No, I already know. And I don’t want to hear it anymore. Please, just get out of my way and let me leave.”

“I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

Air’s forced from my lungs when his soft admission hits me.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said that night.”

“Is that an apology?” My heart’s racing, warning me that I need to leave, but there’s a stillness in him that’s luring me in, even if it’s a false calm—the eye of a hurricane.

He lifts one shoulder in a slow shrug. “If that’s what you need.”

“Fayden, good game man,” someone yells.

We turn to the voice. Two couples walk down the porch of the Frat, one guy practically caring the girl in his arms. Their drunken giggles are louder than the bass vibrating the air around us.

Andrew nods to them but speaks to me, “Walk with me for a minute.” He seizes my hand, surprising me.

“What?” I question as he tugs me forward, forcing me to follow close behind him on the sidewalk that lines the row of Frat houses. “What are you doing?”

“Hear me out, and then I’ll get you cab, I promise.”

I can’t break his firm grip, but it’s hard to keep up with his pace and I’m practically speed walking. I speak up before he can lead me across the street to campus. “Slow down. I haven’t agreed.”

He stops walking and turns to face me, pulling me closer at the same time. We’re on the edge of frat row, a little further away from the groups of partiers, but still visible to anyone who cares to look.

He keeps his grip on my hand, but his other hand slips behind my neck, like it’s the most natural thing to do. “I’m sorry. Okay? Now, walk with me.”

A chill ripples through my muscles, from his touch, from his words. He must feel it because his hand drops, sliding over my shoulder, chasing and intensifying the current prickling my skin.

His eyes follow his fingers till they reach my hands and then his gaze slides back up to mine. “Will you walk with me, Brook?”

I nod my head, stomach twisting with uncertainty at my decision, but I agree to go. His grip retightens on my hand, and he pulls me to his side as we cross the main road.

This side of the street has no one on it but us. It’s lit up, but appears shadowed in contrast with the bright lights from the fraternities.

He walks us a little further, till we’re in the cover of old brick buildings and large oak trees, a more historic part of campus. And my heart settles in my stomach as I realize I willingly let him lead me away, to take me somewhere secluded. I know what he wants from me. He had been very clear about that last time, I shouldn’t have been so foolish as to follow.

“This is far enough,” I speak up and let my panic free, trying to pull away.

He doesn’t release my hand, but he stops walking and turns towards me, hovering too close, his heat seeping into my clothes. “Why did you leave?”

I look up to him, my instincts in chaos, wanting to run, to touch him, to hit him, to kiss him. But all I do is strain to breathe, uncomprehending his question as I meet his hooded eyes looking down on me.

“I told you to wait for me. That I wanted to talk to you, but you left.”

I stare at my hand disappeared in his larger grip and carefully pull out of it as I state the truth, “I didn’t want to talk to you.”

“But you do now?” His fingers are gentle against my chin as he lifts my head till I’m looking at him.

I can’t think when I’m trapped in those eyes. But I force my head to shake, to deny my presence here. Why am I here? I can’t even blame the alcohol in my blood.

His fingers disappear, and he steps back with a sneer, sliding his hand over his dark waves till he’s gripping the back of his neck. The sleeve of his light t-shirt rides up, and his muscles stretch and flex under the dark ink decorating his skin.

“You prefer to talk to that Bruno Mars wannabe?”

“What?” I snap my eyes back to his.

“That preppy fucker you were talking to.” He swipes his hand over his head to mime Scott’s hairstyle—it was a little like Bruno Mars tonight.

I laugh because it’s ridiculous, all of this.

His lips curl up and he hangs his head slightly, the frustration giving way to something I can only hope is embarrassment. But he slips back into that deep calm that drew me in earlier when he asks, “Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

I should have a hundred reasons, but I can’t seem to retrieve them in my swirl of thoughts. I close my eyes to steady myself and begin speaking, the one thing that should matter to him, too. “You saw who I was came to the party with. Tatum’s nice—”

“She’s not your friend,” he spits it out like the idea is foul.

“She could be.” I take another step away, bracing for more harsh words. “If I give it a chance.”

“But I’d ruin that chance?” Those eyes reach into me as he questions, “And what about me?”

The vulnerability in his words, in his questioning stare gives me pause, but I’m not sure it’s real. “What about you?”

“I could be your friend, if you gave it a chance.”

Now I knew he was faking it. I cross my arms and eye him skeptically. “You want to be my friend?”

He shrugs carelessly. “I could give it a try.”

“You don’t want to be friends. You just want to sleep with me.”

“I thought you didn’t assume things?” He lifts his brow with a smug grin.

He’s trying to trap me, use my words against me, and I pause to think this through. The parties in the distance brighten the night sky above the trees but otherwise are unseen. “You can’t be friends with someone you’re too afraid to be seen with.”

His expression drops and he steps towards me. “Who says I’m afraid to be seen with you?”

I gesture to the space around us. “Besides a few words, you ignore me in a group. You always wait till we’re alone or you pull me away.”

“I’ve been trying to fuck you, better to get you alone for that. But this will be different.”

My blood burns with his words, it should be anger, but it’s not. Not when he stands so close, filling my senses with his warmth and stormy scent, his energy surrounding me.

“I’m not afraid for anyone to see me with you. We can go back to the party right now if that will get you to agree.” He challenges me with a sexy grin.

“Agree to what?”

“To give us a chance to be friends.”

I run my fingers through my hair, blowing out air as I try to process what’s happening. “You just admitted you want to …” I mumble over the words. “This won’t work. You’ll be done with me in a week.”

“You want to bet?” He’s way too excited by this entire conversation.

“No.” I let out an exasperated laugh. “That’s not how—”

“Give me a week. Try this friends thing for a week, lets see what happens.”

I can only stare at him, so sure in himself, in this… bet? “I don’t even know what this means.”

His grin spreads, one dimple appearing as he dips his head to me. “Baby, I don’t know either. But I’m up for trying something new. What about you?”

“Not friends with benefits.” Did I mean that as a question?

He takes a moment to answer, the air between us alive and full of energy as I anticipate his response. The mix in his gaze is indecipherable but intense and bright. “For the week, I’ll try.”

“So… what’s the bet?” I ask, hesitant still.

His teeth sinks into his full bottom lip, his gaze electric. “We’ll take it one day at a time, and leave the terms open till the end of the week.” He sweeps my hand up in his. “Let’s start by getting you that cab home. I’ll share it with you, that’s what friends do, right?”

He sucks me into this thing, not even waiting for me to agree, not that I want to refuse. He’s too intriguing, alluring, and willing to give me something different—or so he claims. I’ll give him the week to find out.

Returning home is as comforting as it is stressful. The moment I cross into Kingstree, the urge to hide pulls on me; it’s a familiar feeling. I could turn and leave. I could never come back, but I can’t do that to my mom— not like my sister.

I take the long way to my house, avoiding the center of town, avoiding seeing anyone, sliding right back under my rock. I’m better at college. I’m doing better there. But here, here it’ll never change. I know that. My mother still needs to realize it, but she’s holding out for something else. She’s holding out for her other daughter, London. And sometimes, I fear that will never change either.

I’m not surprised to see our mailbox cocked to the side and dented. Someone must have hit it again. At least this time it’s still left standing, still usable.

I park in our driveway and then right the mailbox so it at least sits on the post straight, even if it’s not secure, before I go inside.

“Mom,” I yell into the silent house as I enter the split foyer, unsure if she’s in the den or in her bedroom upstairs.

“I’m up here,” she calls down from her bedroom.

The home isn’t large, and I reach her quick enough to see she’s just climbing out of bed.

“Still sleeping?”

“Didn’t expect you so early.” She smiles at me though, one of those gentle smiles that always makes me want to hug her. “Does this mean I get to spend all day with you?”

I lean against her doorframe while she makes her side of the sheets. The mint green comforter is still untouched and smooth on the other half of the big bed. With her back to me, I take the opportunity to break the news so I don’t have to see any hurt on her face. “No, I just came for an early visit. I have a lot of homework I need to get done for the week.”

She straightens, back still towards me, but her tiny body lifts and drops with her sigh. “You could get work done here. I’m sure it’s much more quiet.”

“Maybe next time, all my stuff is back at the dorm. Did you see the mailbox was hit again?” I change the subject, I only wish it was a happier one.

“They did it Friday night. I didn’t see or hear them this time though.” She shrugs as she walks past me down the hall towards the kitchen.

“I set it back up, but it needs to be screwed into the post. I’ll do that before I leave.” I follow her into our bright yellow kitchen and start making the coffee as she gets out the eggs. “Did you report it yet?”

“I told Bruce yesterday.”

“Bruce?” I pause from scooping in coffee and turn towards her, teasing her. “Officer Bradford? You’re on a first name basis now?”

“Oh hush.” She smiles with pink cheeks. I get my fair skin that turns red with any emotion from her. “He’s a friend, and you know it.” She picks up the bowl of cracked eggs and whisks them together. “There’s a new lifetime movie I DVR’d last night, will you stay long enough to watch it with me?”

“Yeah,” I agree and turn on the coffee maker.

I don’t know the number that sent the text, but my stomach swirls as I read it, recognizing the words.

I want to see you

“Who’s that?” Mom nods to the phone in my hand with a curious look.

“I’m not sure.” She’s on the love seat cattycorner to me, and I know she can’t see the screen from there, but I hold the phone close like she might, like it’s a secret I want to keep to myself. It is.

The color drains from her, and she sits up. “You don’t need to change your number again, do you?”

“No.” I’m quick to reassure, the empty chill of guilt fills me. I don’t want her to worry. “It’s not those types of texts. You’re the only one here that knows this number.”

“Good.” Her gaze slips back to the TV, our second movie reaching its climax as a knife-wielding stalker closes in on a girl in her kitchen. “Oh, I knew she couldn’t trust her,” she talks to the TV now.

“That’s because you’ve seen this movie before, we both have.” I glance back at my phone.

Where are you?

My heart tumbles in my chest, fear flipping with excitement. I think I know who it is. In fact, I’d bet on it—even though I never gave him my number. But, I can’t resist the chance to poke that ego with my reply text.

Who is this?

My phone’s still for a while, long enough that my mom fast forwards through another commercial break, but then a text comes through.

Take a guess

“You’re smiling an awful lot for not being sure who it is,” Mom drawls out, sticking her foot out to poke my leg from under the throw blanket draped across her.

“It’s,” I peek at her and she’s got a small knowing smile as she nods, encouraging me to continue, “a friend. I think.”

There’s no hiding it from her though, my mother’s always had that uncanny ability to read my mind and I can see it in her light eyes that she is reading me right now.

“Mm hm,” she hums. “So this friend… how old is he? Is he in your classes? What’s his name?”

“His name’s Andrew.” I stare at my phone, typing and deleting responses. “He’s not in any of my classes, but he goes to Eastern.” I close my eyes and hit send. It makes my blood rush in a way that I can’t understand. It’s the same rush I get when he approaches me.

I need a hint

“When did you meet him?”

“Two weeks ago.” I don’t even have to think about it. Two weeks ago, I lost my mind, and my body stopped belonging to me, it reacts for him instead.

I’m out front of your building. Come out.

I choke as I read and reread his text.

“Are you okay? What is he saying to you?”

“It’s okay. I just inhaled spit.” I pat at my chest and then bang out a text as quick as I can.

I’m not there. Sorry.

The responding text is quick.

Where are you? When will you be here?

“Has he asked you out on a date? Or do you only see him in groups?”

In her magic way, she gets right to the heart of the matter. I can’t answer yes to either of those questions, and as I look at her, I’m reminded why Andrew is a bad idea. The fact that he makes me forget that with the tiniest bit of attention makes him even more dangerous.

I’m busy today

I send the text and then turn off my phone. But I lose my nerve and turn it back on, switching it to silent and tucking it into my pockets.

“I just see him around sometimes.” I turn back to the movie, pretending the fight scene has all my attention.

Rose is waiting for me in our typical seat in the cafeteria, like every Monday since we started school. It’s the one day a week our schedules line up for lunch.

I set my tray down and take the seat opposite her. “Where’s your food?”

“I’ll stick to a liquid diet today.” She sips on her large drink.

“Why?” I tear open ketchup packets for my fries.

“Freshmen fifteen. I’ve already gained three; I’ve got to reverse this. Go to the gym with me tonight after I get out of class.”

I groan. “If you really want me to, I’ll keep you company, but—” I swallow my words as something shifts in the air, the chatter a little louder, the energy spiked a little higher. And somehow, I already know what caused it.

Andrew.

He’s focused on his phone and dismisses those who approach him with a nod of his hat covered head, never breaking his path.

“Oh, shit,” I spit out as he gets closer. Rose’s giggling makes me suspicious. “Did you tell him we would be here?”

“Last night.” She turns her smile towards him. “Hi, Andrew.”

My phone rings as Andrew spins the chair from one table over to our table.

I pull my cell phone from my bag, but it’s that same number from yesterday, the one I thought had been Andrew’s, and that only adds to the surprise of the moment.

Before I can answer, Andrew takes the phone from my hand.

“Hey.” I reach for it back, but he turns away slightly, thumbs bouncing over my screen.

“I’m saving my number. That way you don’t have to question when it’s me.” He extends my phone to me, fingers grazing mine as I take it back, but it’s his stare that’s stirring me from the inside out.

“Are you busy today?” He rests his forearms on the table and leans in towards me, and his blue t-shirt stretches over the broad curve of his shoulders.

I pull my eyes away from him as I put my phone back in my purse, discovering that he’s saved his number under Drew. “I’ve got a study group and then plans with Rose.” I nod to my friend across the table from me.

“Our plans are early, we should be back by five.” Rose grins and sucks on her straw, like she didn’t just set me up.

He nods to her, and then his eyes sweep back to me. “I’ve got a meeting now, but I’ll call you later.” He rises to his feet but places one hand on the back of my chair and the other on the table. He leans over me, trapping me as his lips dip to my ear. “Do you make all your friends work so hard to hang out with you?”

“Have I made it hard?” I lean back to question him, but seeing those lips curl into a smile and his green eyes hooded under dark lashes makes me forget everything. He’s the one who makes everything difficult, even speech. “All you have to do is ask.”

I wait for him to ask, but he doesn’t. He rises to standing, releasing me from his intoxicating hold, but his grin still has me spinning. Then he walks out, and I notice he’s still got everyone else’s attention, but now I do, too. Or maybe I’m paranoid, but the sensation of being part of the whispered conversations around me is distinct, and shifting eyes scrape across me.

Rose isn’t fazed by any of it. “Maybe we can both go over there tonight. That’ll be so fun, me and you and Drew and TJ.”

“I don’t know, he didn’t ask anything.” I pick up a fry, trying to shake the tingles he’s left on my skin. “And…” I lower my voice as I lean onto the table. “What about Tatum? Isn’t it wrong?”

She gives a sympathetic smile, but shrugs. “I don’t know what their deal is, but she’s said they aren’t a thing. And you said he wanted to be friends, and you agreed. I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. Besides, the girls are fun to hang out with, but TJ and the team are more fun. They could be better friends.”

I want to buy into what she says, but a heavy doubt stays anchored to me, and it’s only yanked further by the side glances still being shot my way. While I can’t deny that Andrew’s attention excites me, this attention that follows in his wake fills me with uncertainty.