- ONE -
One thing I know for sure and have come to terms with: I’m the school slut. I hate that word; but sometimes it is what it is, or in my situation, I am what I am. I like guys, all kinds of them and lots of them. College has been the perfect setting for being able to meet so many. I have no desire for a relationship whatsoever, so I sleep around. Sleeping with one guy consistently is too permanent; it gives the impression that I want more than I actually do. I definitely don’t want one guy sticking around me on any kind of consistent basis. I would be a terrible girlfriend anyway.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not one of those girls that just goes around sleeping with any guy, without a care for anyone’s feelings. I have three rules: Never sleep with someone that a friend has feelings for; never sleep with someone who is in a known relationship (when this isn’t disclosed to me, it is not my fault); and, finally, never sleep with someone more than three times. I had to add that last one after Devon Ryan. Man, it was a shame too, because he was fantastic in bed and we got along really well. When we were dangerously close to relationship territory after four nights together, I added Rule Number Three. He wasn’t happy about it, but I’m not a girlfriend to anyone. This way, if I come across someone who knows what he is doing, I can stick around long enough to enjoy, but not long enough for him to become attached.
These rules have helped me avoid becoming one of the most hated girls on campus. I don’t sleep with anyone’s boyfriend, and I try my hardest not to sleep with any of my friend’s ex-boyfriends as well, but sometimes that’s unavoidable. Nevertheless, I can’t please them all. I’m very open about who I am: I don’t pretend not to sleep with guys and I don’t deny when I have done just that.
I’ve accepted who I am: the girl who will never become serious about anyone, who will enjoy life, have fun with guys along the way, and never get her heart broken. The one thing other girls count on me for is to never lock one guy down, because they know that sooner or later I’ll move on to the next one.
That’s why I hope that when Sophia finds out that I slept with Micah last night, she’ll understand that I don’t plan on actually keeping him. I had no idea that she’d been hoping he’d ask her out, until Quinn texted me this morning with a code red.
Quinn: FYI Soph was gushing this morning about Micah at the gym.
Well, shit. This was news to me. Last I heard she was interested in Mason Lee. This is why rule number one gets broken more often than not; girls can never make up their damn minds!
When the text alert for my phone went off this morning, I rolled over to grab it, only to be hit by the solid chest that belonged to Micah Woods. He was snoring in my face with whiskey still heavy on his breath. Last night was Sigma Alpha’s first get-to-know-the-fraternity night of Rush Week. I loved it when a new school year started; it brought in a bunch of new guys. Micah was in Sig Alpha and lived in the house. I usually tried not to stay the night at any of the Greek houses because I hated waking up in them. The next morning, the magic of the party wore off and all you were left with was beer cans, vomit, and a guy asleep in the bathtub. For some reason, there was always a guy asleep in the bathtub; I could never understand how they got themselves there.
This morning was definitely a sign that I should never stay the night again. I had no idea where my clothes were, and it seemed as though all of Micah’s clothes were disgustingly dirty in piles on his floor. I sent Quinn a text to see if she had any idea where my clothes were, and she told me to check down by the pool. So apparently, I was in the pool last night. I guess that would explain why I was only wearing a bra and panties. It was actually Quinn’s bra and my panties. I’m guessing we thought it would be a brilliant idea to switch last night. Not so brilliant now, seeing as Quinn is two cup sizes smaller and I was having a hard time keeping it all in. I grabbed my phone and my purse—thankfully, I’d had enough insight to bring them upstairs with me last night—and quietly walked toward the door. Before I could reach the doorknob, I stepped on a beer bottle cap and yelped. Micah sat straight up in a huff from under the covers.
“What! Are you okay, Em?” he asked me in a voice that was scratchy and deep from sleep and too much whiskey.
His eyes were squinting at the brightness of the morning. He was attractive with a smooth, broad chest and bright golden-brown eyes. He was fun last night, but sadly, it was night number three with him.
“Crap. Sorry, Micah! I didn’t mean to wake you. I just stepped on a bottle cap and cut my foot,” I said, bouncing on one foot while holding up the other. “Go back to sleep, I’m just heading out.”
He laughed a little bit under his breath and eyed me up and down. “You’re going to leave the frat house with no clothes on? You’re practically falling out of Q’s bra.” He got up, walked over to me, and knelt down to examine the bottom of my foot. “I think you’ll be okay, it’s not even bleeding.” He gave the bottom of my foot a quick kiss and then started rubbing his hands up my legs leisurely.
Before he could skim higher up my thigh, I stepped back. “Micah, I have to get to class,” I warned him as he scooted forward toward me.
“Please don’t follow that stupid ‘three times only’ rule you have. We’re good together, Em. You don’t even have to be my girlfriend. Just come back over tonight and I’ll remind you what we do so well,” he said, still kneeling on the ground and looking up at me with his fingers wrapped around my waist.
“Micah, I don’t break my rules. I made them for a reason,” I said in a barely audible whisper.
As good as it would’ve been to come back to Micah, I did not intend to get serious with him, and that’s where it would lead. It always does. It’s the gradual way of humans. We become comfortable with one another and then we’re married and someone’s cheating on the other one. I was purely trying to prevent this from ever happening.
He gave my waist a small squeeze, nodded his head in defeat, and slowly stood up to look down at me. “Well, it was fun, and you’re welcome back in my bed anytime, babe. Please take one of my shirts before you leave, though. The walk of shame is one thing, but the walk of shame in that, Em?”
“Micah, your shirts are disgusting. I can’t even walk out of here with one of those on without getting nauseated from this hangover. I’ll be fine. Besides, Quinn thinks my clothes are out by the pool anyway. I’ll just run down there and put them on. You know none of those guys are anywhere close to waking up anytime soon. See ya!”
Micah shrugged, not even attempting to defend his gross pile of clothes, and was already pulling the covers back over his head in bed, grunting out a good-bye. Must be nice not to have classes until later in the day.
I snuck down the creaky old stairs as quietly as I could, but this house was really old and had more groans than a ninety-year-old man. Besides, my one-legged hobble wasn’t helping with my stealthy escape, either, since my foot was still throbbing. Thankfully, no one woke up to see me streaking through the house.
When I made it out back, I decided I was going to have to murder someone that day. I just didn’t know who it was going to be yet. My clothes were definitely out here, but they were hanging from a tree branch, and there was no way in hell I was going to be able to get them down. Even if I found a ladder, I wouldn’t be tall enough. My flip-flops were floating in the middle of the pool. Fantastic. Thankfully, I remembered I had a change of clothes in my car, so I only needed to get to them, and I wouldn’t have to drive home practically naked.
Please, please, please, don’t let anyone be outside. I mean, this was Frat Row. No one should be up before seven a.m., especially after a party night. I crept back through the house, tiptoeing over the passed-out bodies on the floor. The majority of them were wearing Sig Alpha shirts, although I noticed there were a few other fraternities present. God, this place was a wreck. I felt bad for the pledges, because they would more than likely be the ones cleaning up this filth. That is one reason I never rushed a sorority. I had no interest in being on the bottom of the food chain; I just enjoyed their parties.
I stepped out onto the front porch and turned to pull the old, heavy, wooden door closed when I heard a familiar voice burst out laughing. Damn. I lowered my head and groaned; I took a deep breath and shut the door all the way, while I exhaled. I turned around to face my humiliation that was my best friend, Cole. But it wasn’t just Cole. It was Cole and Mason talking to another guy on a motorcycle whom I’d never seen before.
Okay, so I was going to have to work with this. I would not be humiliated. Pretty much everyone on Frat Row has seen me in my bra and panties before; it was just different when you had liquid courage coursing through your system versus when you didn’t. That nasty sweat-stained shirt of Micah’s was looking better and better right now. I straightened my shoulders and tried the best I could to hide my limp. My car was parked right in front of Motorcycle Boy, so I had no choice but to walk right up to them.
“Good morning to you too, Giggles. Is that any way to greet a lady?” I asked Cole, nudging him in the stomach with my elbow, while he was still trying to catch his breath from laughing at me so hard. I glared at Mason, who was also laughing. Motorcycle Boy was just smirking at me. I smiled sweetly at all three of them, praying my cheeks were not as red as Quinn’s bra.
“I’m sorry, love. It’s just that I’ve seen you do the walk of shame before, but never with so little clothing. If more girls walked out of frat houses like this in the morning, I guarantee you none of these guys would be late for class anymore,” Cole stated, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and giving me a quick kiss on my temple as he squeezed me into him.
Quinn and I picked up Cole at orientation our freshman year. Quinn thought his messy, dirty-blond hair and football player’s body were hot. When she expressed that a little too boisterously behind him in the school auditorium, he turned around with a huge grin on his face.
“Well, well, well, hello to you too, ladies,” he had said in his pleasing Texas accent.
I think Quinn and I both sighed out loud at that. Being from Southern California, we don’t have any kind of accent, and neither do any of the guys, usually. He’s been with us ever since. None of us ever hooked up and that’s probably for the best, because I doubt we would be as close to Cole if either of us had. I love Cole like a brother, and he’s pretty protective of Quinn and me. Although clearly he has no qualms about me showing off my goods to complete strangers or drooling idiots like Mason.
Currently, Cole lives in the Sig house, but his best friends from Texas were moving out here to join him at school, so he’s moving out to get an apartment next to Quinn and me. We were all pretty excited when the apartment right next to us became available over the summer. He has slowly been moving all his stuff in the last couple of weeks. We’d been trying to get him to move out of the frat house since he moved in; it’s annoying to come visit him outside of a party. These guys are fun to take to bed and have drinks with, but when you have to study or have any kind of civil conversation, it’s basically impossible at that house. Someone is always yelling, drinking, or breaking something.
“Well, I thought I would try something new today. Spice up your life a little; keep you on your toes. Besides, someone thought it was a genius idea to throw my clothes in a tree out back. All of Micah’s clothes smell like sweat, sand, and I don’t even want to think about what else. So here I am, trying to get to my car for more clothes with my dignity intact. Obviously that’s working well for me,” I indicated, gesturing at all three guys. Mason and Cole continued laughing while Motorcycle Boy kept that frustrating smirk of his.
“Damn, Em, you’re killing me. Please come over to visit tonight. I’ll go buy your favorite beer,” Mason said while ogling my way-too-small bra. Mason and I had hooked up in the beginning of sophomore year. It was the worst minute and a half ever. I certainly don’t have to worry about breaking Rule Number Three with him. It’s not happening with us ever again. I usually just ignore his advances.
Cole shoved Mason back and smacked him on the back of the head with his palm. “Emmy, this is Jaxon Riley, one of the guys I’ve been telling you was transferring out here from back home. I’m sure you’ll meet his brother, Jace, later. They’re both moving into the apartment with me.”
Great . . . so we’ll be neighbors. Wow, do I know how to make first impressions. I started getting uncomfortable under this gorgeous guy’s penetrating, blue-eyed gaze. He was hands-down the most attractive person I’d ever seen in my life. I rarely get embarrassed, but all of a sudden, I wanted to be anywhere other than here, meeting Jaxon Riley in Quinn’s bra and my panties. At the dentist, the gynecologist, in advanced statistics taking a final I didn’t study for that was written in German—anywhere besides where I was right now.
I shifted to lift my aching foot off the ground. “Okay, well it was nice to meet you, but hopefully you can forget that this was your first impression of me and we can meet again while I’m clothed. Seeing as we’ll be neighbors and all.”
Man, my foot was really bothering me, standing on this concrete. I bent my knee and brought my foot up behind me to rub the bottom of it. Jaxon watched my foot come up and my hand rubbing circles on it. His penetrating gaze seemed to pierce through me, as he intently focused on my foot.
“I sure as hell will never forget this moment, meeting you like this. It’s nice to know I’ll have a hot neighbor.”
And cue the blush. Not only did he have that mesmerizing southern accent as Cole does, but he just called me hot. He has also said all this while still balancing himself on his motorcycle. That was my signal to get out of here.
“All right. Well, Cole, don’t forget we have journalism in thirty minutes. Don’t be late and if you get there before me, please save me a seat, and don’t let one of the sorority bimbos take it this time,” I pleaded with him.
I’m usually a pretty outgoing person when it comes to meeting new people, but I hated that awkward first-day dance you do, walking into a new classroom, when you have no idea where to sit. It throws me off and makes me feel not in control. Cole and I are both majoring in journalism, so we typically have the majority of our classes together. He understands me and tries to save me a seat, but a pretty face easily distracts him.
I waved them off and hobbled to my car, walking on tiptoe with my injured foot. When I got to my trunk, I popped it open and, thank the heavens, found a sundress, which I hastily threw on. I breathed a sigh of relief at feeling comfortable again. As I rounded my car to open the driver’s door, I glanced back at the guys. Cole and Mason were already stepping up onto the porch to head inside. Jaxon was still balancing on his bike and staring at me.
Good grief, the boy was hot. I couldn’t tell how tall he was because he hadn’t stood up off his bike yet. His legs appeared long and I could see his muscles bunching underneath the jeans that were hugging him perfectly. The black leather jacket looked as if it would feel like butter on his shoulders and his skin was tanned just enough to make his ice-blue eyes pop. His hair was a warm dark brown, with a few natural highlights spread throughout. It called out for fingers to run through it, which it appeared his did on a regular basis. Each strand appeared as if it had a mind of its own and was going to go whichever way it wanted. The front pieces were long, and I could tell they would get in his eyes, but he obviously pushed them over to the side. His face had just a little bit of scruff to add that rougher look to him. He was definitely no pretty California boy.
When I realized how long I had been checking him out, my eyes snapped up to his and he knowingly grinned at me. Oh, this one was going to be trouble; I needed the ball back in my court. So I tossed my hair over my shoulder, lifted my chest high, and gave him my sexiest wink. Before I turned to sit down in the driver’s seat, I saw his jaw drop just a little bit. One point for me. That’s right, Motorcycle Boy; I’m the one in control here.