14
Reyn
By the grace of god, I manage to sleep past dawn. Two thoughts enter my mind when I roll over, impaling myself on morning wood: The girl next door and having jerked off to her. I swore to myself that I wouldn’t do that again. There are generally three categories of girl in direct relation to my libido—the ones I can fuck, the ones I can’t fuck, and the complete void only reserved for family members. I’d tried to put Vandy in one of those last two, only as much I promised Emory I’d treat her as one of my own, that shit just wasn’t happening. My brain—and dick—saw Vandy Hall as a lot of things, but ‘sister’ wasn’t anywhere near to being one of them. That put her firmly in the ‘girls I can’t fuck’ category, and that’s always a tricky designation.
Of all the things I want, the ones I can’t have burn the brightest.
Getting off to Vandy broke a thousand rules, but here I am again, not just fantasizing about her but remembering her. That kiss was fucking electric. I can still feel her hitched breath when I deepened the kiss, and I’m no idiot. That wasn’t a gasp of surprise. It was pure sex.
I groan and adjust my boner. It was one thing to see Vandy from afar and think about her. It’s a whole other ballgame now that I know what she tastes like. How she feels under my hands. How, even though she’s innocent and inexperienced, it was hands down the hottest kiss of my life.
And what had I done about it?
Nothing. Gawked at her like a fucking moron. Too busy thinking that I’d just stolen her first kiss—mine now—to ease an awkward situation, unable to even offer some trite welcome into the world of face-sucking. Oh yeah, then I came home and beat off like a thirteen-year-old who just discovered his parental internet filter had a back door.
I knew I was playing with fire the minute she walked in that room at the party, looking all frail and vulnerable. I felt the panic rolling off of her. The urge to distract her, to protect her, was like second nature. Maybe I’m as bad as Emory.
Except Emory wouldn’t have taken advantage.
I scrub a hand over my face. That was the real crime. There I was telling her not to settle, not to just take whatever came along, and I basically led her right into settling on me.
The only thing that eases the gnawing guilt is that I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. Of course, I kissed her back. I’m not made of stone here.
Well, my dick might be. None of this is making me less hard, but before I can do anything about it, my phone buzzes on the bedside table. The caller is unknown, but the message comes through loud and clear: a devil graphic followed by a time; 11 a.m.
I guess it’s time to get up and see what the powers that be want us to do next.
I arrive at the bell tower with a coffee in one hand and a breakfast burrito in the other. Campus is quiet. Most people are still asleep, or maybe over in the dining hall for breakfast if they live on campus. I look both ways before I slide in the door, eyes and ears alert as I try the handle to the basement stairs.
I wrench the knob when the door doesn’t give.
“The fuck?” I’d assumed this is where we’re meeting, even if the details on the message were vague. Wasn’t this supposed to be our base of operations, or… what had Vandy called it? Our dungeon?
“Try your key.”
I turn and see Caroline standing in the doorway. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized hoodie, and it’s weird. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her out of uniform. Her hair is in two long braids, and she pushes thick-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. I stand there for a moment, trying to figure out what she’s talking about.
She rolls her eyes and exhales loudly, pulling a key similar to the one I’d found in my locker from her pocket. She makes a big production of shoving it in the keyhole, like I’m a complete idiot. A few jiggles later, it opens.
So I’m still half asleep, give me a break.
“Maybe you deserve that high score on the SAT after all,” I say, pushing the door wide and letting her go in first.
“For the record,” she says imperiously as she passes, “I did get a high SAT score. 1400 just wasn’t good enough for my mom. She didn’t even give me the chance to try for anything higher.”
I nod in understanding, because I can believe it. If there’s one unifier at Preston Prep, it’s that everyone has massive amounts of parental baggage.
We walk down the winding stairs and enter the bunker. Most of the initiates are here already, and I’d been preparing all morning for seeing Vandy here, but the sight of her on the couch still makes me vibrate with nerves. The plan had been to approach the situation as if last night had never happened. She’s sitting on the couch next to Tyson, and the flicker of emotion that sparks in me when I see her smile at him, friendly and open, isn’t something I want to examine very closely.
Emory’s standing by a table, scribbling on slips of paper. I was sort of torn on the prospect of telling Emory about the party. On one hand, I want him to know that I’d gotten her out of there safely. It’s a weak concession that doesn’t even come close to making up for what happened three years ago, but it still settles something inside of me. On the other hand, I’d have to skip over the whole kiss situation, which I figure sort of cancels out any ‘attaboy’ I’d be due.
In the end, I decide that it doesn’t matter what I want. If Vandy wants him to know, she’ll tell him herself. She’s the one who has to live with him.
“So listen,” Emory says, drawing my attention. I can see the slips of paper, two names on each. He’s written Vandy’s name on one and holds the pen poised over the second space. “I know we talked about you teaming up with V for all this stuff, but I was thinking of putting her with Tyson tonight.”
Against my will, my eyes fly over to him. He’s telling Vandy some kind of story that apparently necessitates a lot of animated gesturing. She laughs at something he says—not a big, flashy laugh, just a quiet chuckle. It still makes my eyes narrow. Perfect, squeaky clean, nice, friendly, smart, and athletic Tyson, whose biggest flaw is lying about believing in God.
I look at Emory. “Why?”