Anabelle
I will admit, coming out with Rex Gunderson hasn’t been one of the worst ideas I’ve ever had.
In fact, other than the fact that he’s ignoring me by replying to incoming text messages, I’ve had way worst dates.
We’re at a small restaurant in town, and even though I’m just wearing jeans and a black shirt, I’m still overdressed. This is more of a diner—a greasy spoon, as we call it back east—serving beer, burgers, and fried appetizers.
I push aside the napkins in the center of the table, clasping my hands, waiting for my fake date to put his phone down and notice me.
If Rex Gunderson is trying to win a bet so he can have sex with me, his effort is seriously lacking. How do girls find this behavior appealing?
He isn’t paying any attention to me.
He’s doused with cologne.
And he keeps referring to himself in the third person.
Annoyed, I tap on the table, nails clicking against the wooden top. “Are you almost done? I’m getting bored.”
“Yeah, give me one more second, babe.” He shoots me a toothy grin that’s meant to be charming. “Team bizness.”
I wish I hadn’t come out with him.
I’d give anything to be snuggled up on the couch with Elliot right now, watching a show or reading a book—something I haven’t done in forever.
Rex sets his phone on the table, seeming ready to finally give me his full attention. “So, this is fun.”
“Really? You think this is fun?” I lean forward. “Is this what you normally do with your dates?”
“Bring them here? Yeah. It’s the perfect setup. I can sit and watch the game”—there are flat-screen TVs everywhere—“and the ladies can sit and watch me. It’s a win-win.”
“You’re kidding me. You did not just say that.” I fall back in the booth, back hitting the seat, laughing. “Do you have a sheet of paper and a pen? I want to write that down.”
Classic.
I wipe the tears now spilling from the corners of my eyes, determined to remember every bit of this night.
I seriously can’t with this guy.
He is too much.
And he is for real.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Totes.”
Totes? I do a mental eye roll. No one uses that word anymore.
“I’ve heard a few things and wanted some clarification.”
“Things?” Rex studies me somewhat warily, throwing his arm on the seatback behind him. “Like what?”
I thank the waitress when she sets down our appetizers then focus my energy on the twerp sitting across from me. “I heard that last year you pulled a few pranks on a guy who’s on the wrestling team. What were they?”
“Oh man, my reputation precedes me!” He laughs. “You heard about that? It was crazy, man—legendary.”
“Legendary, huh? How so?”
“Anabelle, you’re sitting across from a legend. Obviously, if you’ve heard about it, they’re going to be talking about it for years.”
“Talking about what?”
“Okay, so there was this new guy, right? And he ended up living with me and my roommate cause he didn’t know anyone in Iowa.” Rex takes a chicken wing, dips it in sauce, and bites down. Chews. “Anyway, the dude never went out, right? Like, ever. So, my roommate and I thought we’d help him out, ya know?”
I nod along. “K, then what?”
He cleans his face, swiping at the ranch dressing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “We make these signs—totally shitfaced from drinking all night—and sneak into the dorms without ID cards. The chick at the front desk had a major lady boner for my roommate.”
“Uh huh.”
“We make all these copies of a flyer—”
“What did it say?”
“Uh, let me think.” He regards the ceiling, squinting, thinking hard. “Are you the lucky lady who wants to pop our roommate’s cherry? Must have a pulse. He will reciprocate with oral.”
“Was he seriously a virgin?” Not that it matters, but since he brought it up…
“Nah, I don’t think so. It was our marketing hook, just had more mass appeal, know what I mean? Ladies dig virgins.”
“They do?” This is news to me.
“Oh yeah, totally. The whole thing blew up, right? Chicks texting and calling nonstop, wanting to bang him. All in all, a total success.”
“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, putting his actual phone number on posters?”
“Totally legal.”
“Is it though?” I make a mental note to look it up as Rex continues his story.
“So anyway, it ends with a happy ending because he has a girlfriend now and they’re shacking up.”
“Are you sure he didn’t move out because of the prank?”
“No way man, he should be thanking us—we’re matchmakers. Without those flyers, he never would have hooked up with his girlfriend. She was one of the chicks who texted him.”
Oh.
Well.
How interesting.
“Are you friends with her?”
“Nah, she hates us.” Gunderson laughs, and it’s loud and so full of humor, I laugh along with him. I mean, come on—how could you not? You’d have to be stone cold not to find this guy the teeny tiniest bit amusing.
He is a complete numskull.
I can say with full confidence that Rex Gunderson, honest to God, thinks he is ruler of pranks, and he sees nothing wrong with pulling them. In his opinion, they are harmless fun, and the truth is? I am highly entertained, one hundred percent.
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.
I want to climb inside his brain and find out what makes it tick.
“Is there more? Did you pull any other pranks last year?”
“Let me think—after I eat this chicken wing.”
He stuffs one in his mouth, whole.
Chews. Swallows.
Grabs another one, wash, rinse, repeat.
Cleans himself off with a napkin, moaning with pleasure. “Damn those are good. I could eat here every night of the week.”
Yeah, he could, because it’s a cheap bar that serves cheap fried food, not an actual restaurant.
I hand him a wet wipe for his chin. “You were saying?”
“Right, pranks. Oh! Duh. I brought my roommate’s girlfriend up to a cabin once and left her there with him alone, without a car.”
I blink. “What?”
“Yeah. I told his girlfriend—well, she wasn’t his girlfriend at the time. I don’t even think they’d banged yet…” Rex pauses, thinking a little too hard. “No, they definitely weren’t dating. So I give her this sob story about this bonding weekend up at Coach Donnelly’s cottage and said all the girlfriends and shit were going to be there—they weren’t—and if she didn’t want him to be the only loser there without anyone, she should go up and surprise him.”
“Did she?”
“Totally.”
“And?” Jeez, get to the point! This story is taking forever.
“And I drove her up. Then when they went upstairs to dump her luggage and stuff, we disappeared. Left them there.” Another pause so he can scarf down a few more wings. “Man, he was so pissed, no way was I going back. Besides, I wasn’t the only one involved so it wasn’t my fault.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“Well, mine, but someone could have stopped me.”
I genuinely think Rex Gunderson is just a careless human being. He’s selfish and callous, thinking only about himself.
It’s not that he doesn’t consider consequences, it’s that he lives for the moment.
Lives for fun.
Thinks he’s damn near invincible.
I wonder what it would take to break this guy. What would have to happen to make him take a hard look at himself? To change him?
After sitting with him, hearing him talk, I’m not sure if the answer is time.
Maybe maturity?
“He moved out after that?”
“Shortly after, once the semester ended, yeah.”
“And now you and your roommate have an extra room?”
“Yup.”
“The big room.”
He stops dipping a piece of celery in the ranch dressing to watch me. “Yup, the big room.”
“You know, not too long ago, I needed a place to live.” I smile, twirling my straw innocently. “I could have taken that big room.”
“No shit? That would have been cool—having a girl roommate.”
I cringe, wondering what life would be like living with a goon like Rex and a jackass like Eric Johnson. It would be a nightmare, that’s what. I bet they’re complete slobs, careless, and inconsiderate.
“Cool…hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. How long has it been since you vacuumed?”
“Vacuumed?”
My head tips back as the bubble of laughter climbs up my throat. “You know, a vacuum, the machine that sucks dirt and crumbs off the floor, keeps the house clean.”
“I don’t think we have one of those.”
He doesn’t know? “How do you clean?”
“Clean what?”
“Uh, your house?”
“Oh. Sometimes when we have girls spend the night, we have them clean the bathroom and shit before they leave in the morning.”
“For real?”
“It’s a pretty sweet deal actually, and so much cheaper than hiring someone to do it.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Why? You’ve never heard of hiring someone to clean your place?”
“No, not that. I can’t believe you said you have the girls you have sex with clean your shit up in the morning. We are on a date.”
Rex Gunderson scrunches up his goofy features. “I’d never ask you to scrub my toilet, that I can guarantee you.”
He winks.
I cannot stop laughing.
“You’re…I don’t even know what to say about you right now.”
“Trust me, many have come before you, tried, and failed.”
I don’t know why, but this makes me laugh even harder.
Gunderson has brought me to a biker bar.
Perfect.
Way to woo the ladies, Gunderson.
He’s disappeared into the crowd, presumably to schmooze and get us adult beverages, although now that I think about it, he never asked what I wanted.
What a gentleman.
I scan the crowd, bodies packed into the building far beyond capacity. Bright blue lights strobing, loud music vibrating the speakers.
“What’s the verdict?” a deep voice asks near my ear, warm breath brushing the outer shell and tickling my neck. It makes me shiver.
Has me swinging, nailing my roommate in the stomach with the back of my hand.
“Shit! Jeez, don’t sneak up on people, Elliot! And never do that at home—you’ll give me a heart attack.”
His presence gives my heart a kick, sending it into mild palpitations I’ve recently become familiar with.
“How can I sneak up on you in this place? It’s packed!” He has to dip his head so I can hear him, and I’m not exactly put off by his nearness.
Not in the least.
Because by leaps and bounds, Elliot St. Charles is growing on me. Gives me butterflies. Has me lying awake, staring at the ceiling, listening hard for the sounds of his—
“Where’s your date?” he asks, emphasizing the last word with air quotes, a sardonic smirk spreading his lips. “I saw him scurry off like a little rat.”
“I had to run to the bathroom and he maybe ran to get us drinks, not a hundred percent sure.”
“You are not going to take a drink from him. No fucking way.”
I lean in to hear his reply. “What do you mean?”
“Hello—date rape drugs? I don’t know anything about that dude other than the fact that he’s a complete fuckwit, but I definitely wouldn’t take a drink from him.”
I slap a hand over my mouth, eyes wide. “Oh my God, you’re right! I never thought of that.”
“I’m not saying he’s going to, or that he’s the kind of guy who would. Just be careful.”
I rise on my tiptoes, planting a kiss on his warm cheek. My lips linger near his ear. “Thank you for caring enough to look out for me.”
When he laughs, I laugh, our eyes meeting under the dim blue lights of this sketchy bar.
“Are you having fun?”
“Rex Gunderson isn’t horrible, he’s just…” I purse my lips. “A smidge clueless.”
“Just a smidge?”
I raise my arm, extending my fingers. “Little bit crazy, lot bit naïve—not a stellar combo.”
“Ya think?” he deadpans.
I glance around the perimeter. “Are you here with anyone?”
“Honestly? No. I tried enlisting my old roommates to join me on this recon mission, but they’re both presently occupied.”
“With what?”
Elliot is tall, so he has to lean down, upper torso dipping, leaning into me until I feel his heat in my personal space. “My old roommate Sebastian and his girlfriend went to visit his folks, and Zeke is, well…I think he’s planning some shit for his girlfriend. I don’t know, it sounds like he’s getting ready to propose.”
My brows go up. “Propose? Marriage?”
Elliot chuckles. I can’t hear it, but I can see the humor reflected in his eyes. “Yes, marriage. I mean, you have no idea how far this guy has come—he used to be a real piece of work.”
“I’ve seen him around—he still helps my dad out. Dad said he spends crazy amounts of time with his girlfriend. Violet is her name, right?”
“Violet, yeah.”
“How old are they?”
“Twenty-two, about to turn twenty-three.”
“Wow. They must really be in love.”
“Head over heels and all that.” Elliot’s gaze shifts, homing in on someone in the distance. “Shit, there’s your dipshit of a date. I’m going to catch up to him real quick before heading out.”
My eyes narrow suspiciously. “Be nice.”
“You want me to be nice? Why?”
“I don’t think he can help himself, Elliot. I’ve deduced he lacks the common sense gene.”
“No promises to be nice, but I’ll do my best.”
I pat him on the forearm. Squeeze. “I know you will.”
“But I’ll probably be a dick.”
“Elliot!”
“What?! I won’t be able to help it. I’m bored, let me have some fun.”
“You’re the worst.”
He boops me on the nose. “Stop. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Elliot
“The two of you seem pretty chummy—what’s the deal?”
I sidle up to Rex Gunderson, the most popular unpopular guy on campus. He just walked out of the bathroom, still fussing with the hem of his shirt. Still zipping his fly.
Sees me.
“Hey Elliot, what’s up.”
“Oh nothing, just popping in to check on my roomie cause I had nothing else going on and I’m a good friend like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh didn’t Anabelle tell you? I’m her roommate.”
“Roommate?” He looks confused.
“Roommate. You know, we live together.”
“You live with Anabelle.” He pauses, scratches his balls. “She might have mentioned at dinner she’d been desperate for a place to live, but she didn’t say it was with you. Guess she wasn’t lying about being desperate.”
He smirks.
Dickhead.
“Everyone on campus has heard you and Johnson have an extra room available—or are you still on that mission to have the big room all to yourself?”
He’s onto my wordplay, narrowing his beady eyes. “Does her dad know she’s living with a dude?”
“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but yes he knows. Why, what would you do if he didn’t know? Tattle on her?”
Gunderson scoffs, disbelieving. “There is no way Coach Donnelly is okay with Anabelle living with a guy—no fucking way.”
“How ‘bout you mind your own business, Gunderson?”
He ignores me. “What’s it like?”
“I just said mind your own business.”
“Has she crawled into bed with you yet? Dude, that would be so fucking awesome.”
Before he can say another word, I’m in his personal space, bumping my chest against his. “Say one more word about it and I’m going to—”
Gunderson’s hands go up. “Whoa, whoa. Dude, what the hell is up with you tonight? Between you, Osborne, and Daniels, I always thought you were the gentleman—guess I was wrong.”
“Guess so, or maybe I just don’t like you. Never have.”
He rolls his eyes, glancing over my shoulder. “And I’m real broken up about it.”
Why is this guy so fucking annoying? “Enjoy your night. It’ll be your one and only date with her.”
“As if that’s up to you.” He snorts. “Wait a second…” He rears back to look me in the eye. “Are you—you are! You’re jealous aren’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid, Gunderson. No one is jealous of you.”
“You are. You’re jealous I’m here on a date with Anabelle Donnelly.”
He’s struck a nerve and knows it, the little fucker. “No—I have a problem with the fact that you’re a lying scumbag who’s only going out with her to win a bigger bedroom.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Everyone fucking knows, Gunderson. It’s just a matter of time before Coach finds out.”
But he’s no longer looking me in the eye; he’s scanning the room looking for an escape from this conversation.
I get right up in his face so he hears every word I say. “If you think for one second I’m not watching you like a hawk, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
“What is your damn problem, man?” Rex throws his hands up. “I haven’t done anything to you, and no one has slept with her. Trust me, she sent Johnson to her fucking dad’s house, so he won’t go near her with a ten-foot cock.”
He laughs at his own joke, clever idiot.
“You’re too dumb to stay away from her. You just can’t stop yourself from doing stupid shit, can you? First that bullshit with your old roommate Rabideaux, now this crap with Johnson, and that’s only the shit anyone has found out about. This isn’t the first time the two of you have pulled a stunt like this, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll apologize to her, because once her dad finds out, you and that pissant Johnson are going to be fucked.”
Even under the dim lights of the bar, Gunderson is blanching, swallowing hard. Nervous.
“I haven’t done anything,” he repeats with conviction. A firm nod. “Maybe you should climb down out of my ass before I complain to the bouncer that you’re harassing me.”
“You’re so fucked.” I raise my arm, clamping my giant palm on his bony shoulder. “Consider this a friendly warning, eh?”
I straighten the collar of his polo shirt, wanting to smack my palm across his face. “Now act normal and smile, because I promised Anabelle I’d behave myself tonight.” Pull back and get a nice, long look at him. “Keep your dick and hands to yourself, pony boy.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Hands to your fuckingself.”
“Jesus Christ, St. Charles, were you always as big a douchebag as Osborne and Daniels?”
“Yes. Obviously I learned from the best.”