It’s Saturday night. One of two frats on campus, Sigma Phi, is having a party. After this week’s drama, I’m more than ready to chug some beer and tap some ass. Not to mention ignore the fact that Kat said she was going. She and Becca were talking about their outfits outside History of Rock yesterday. I had to resort to running through more football plays to stop myself from getting hard when she was describing what she was planning to wear. I know she was doing it for my benefit considering the way she was looking at me out of the corner of her eye as she was speaking.
As I get out of my car, Liam jogs up to me. “Hey, bruh. Ready to party?” His eyes are already glassy and he smells like he took a bath in a keg.
“First, don’t ever call me bruh again.” A few guys on the team use the word, and I hate it every time. Sounds too much like “bra.”
Liam waves off my statement with a, “Whatever.” As we walk up to the house, he asks, “Did you ever call Marcus back about …?”
I groan, not knowing why this is so important to him. “Not yet. I’m heading to the gym tomorrow. I’ll talk to him more about it then.”
“Man, he really wants to talk to you.” I’m not sure if it’s Marcus wanting to talk to me, or Liam wanting a piece of whatever Marcus wants. Hell, I’m pretty sure I know what Marcus wants. I’ve told him “no” more than once. I’m done fighting for him. I only fight when the situation warrants it. I don’t do that shit for fun.
I shove Liam just as we get to the steps, so hard he stumbles off to the side before muttering, “Dick.” Inside, the living room is full of gyrating bodies. The only good thing about these parties is the number of sorority girls wearing almost no clothes, even though it’s January. Perfect example: Meghan comes bouncing up wearing a skirt so short I know I’ll see her ass cheeks when she turns around.
She hands me a red cup full of brown liquid, then puts her hand on my shoulder to steady herself as she leans up to kiss me. “Hey, sexy,” she purrs against my mouth. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my body. Her skin is bare thanks to the men’s button up dress shirt she’s wearing knotted just below her tits. I wonder briefly who it belongs to because it sure as hell isn’t mine, but decide it doesn’t matter. We aren’t a couple, she can do or wear whatever and whoever she wants.
As soon as the words leave her mouth, she shoves her tongue halfway down my throat. All I can do is kiss her back. When she finally pulls away, I want to ask her what I had for dinner because she should damn well know. She moves to my side, sliding her arm around me and prompting me to move my arm up around her shoulders as we walk through the room. I see a bunch of guys from the football team and Max. I start to approach them, but stop when Meghan’s grip on my shirt tightens. I look over at her and raise a brow in silent question.
“Let’s hang with my friends. They’re right over there,” she points to the opposite side of the room.
The hell? “Okay, go spend time with your friends. Find me later, yeah?” There was no way I was hanging out with her friends tonight. I don’t give a living shit about who’s fucking who, who blew who or who broke up with who. And I certainly don’t want to give my opinion on whether a certain girl is a bitch or not.
Her hand grips my shirt tighter when I try to walk away. When I look back at her, she’s sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. “But baby, I thought you wanted to be with me tonight.”
Great. A clingy non-girlfriend is not what I need. I gently pull her fingers open before stepping farther away. “Meg,” I start and watch her eyes fill with tears. Crap. “Look, you’re a sweet girl,” I cringe, hearing the brush off in my voice and knowing she hears it too, “but I’m not in the market for a girlfriend right now. This,” I gesture between us, “is just supposed to be two people having fun.” I grin at her, trying to soften the blow, but it doesn’t work.
Meghan crosses her arms over her ample chest, and I take a second to mourn the loss of them. I know what needs to happen, and I think I’ll miss her tits more than I’ll miss her. One leg slides out to tap against the floor and her eyes narrow into a glare. Fuck. Me. This, right here, is exactly why I don’t like relationships. If she has a problem, she needs to handle that shit not in a room fucking full of people who are all watching avidly as the drama goes down.
Grabbing her by the arm, I pull her down the hallway and through the first door I see. We stand in a bathroom, one that looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since school started in August. It smells like a combination of vomit and piss and it makes me want to throw up. This could work to my favor though, because Meg isn’t going to want to stand here for long. I mentally pat myself on the back for my quick thinking. It’s short-lived because when Meghan starts, she’s not talking, she’s shouting.
“I can’t believe you, Clay Mitchell.” I wince at her use of my first and last names. Whenever my mother or Kat use my full name, I know I’m in trouble. “We’ve been sleeping together for close to six months now! I didn’t put in all this time to be treated like I don’t matter. You can fuck me but you can’t be seen with me at a party?”
Okay, wow. There are so many things wrong with what she just said I don’t even know where to start. “Come on, Meg. Don’t try to make this into something it isn’t. You knew when you got involved with me that I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. I didn’t play you or lead you on, so stop being so damn dramatic.”
Yeah, that was the wrong thing to say.
Meghan’s face turns bright red and now she’s fuming. I should have just kept my mouth shut. Why didn’t I learn from the drama between Max and Kat this week? Oh right, because Meghan is just a fuck buddy! She’s not my best friend who I’ve been leading on and tossing aside.
I hold up both hands between us, trying to decide what to say to calm her down. “Meg,” I clear my throat, “Meggy, you know I care about you.” Her face clears and her eyes light up. Shit. Abort! Abort! Aw Fuck! “What I mean, is you’re a fucking great friend.” And a great fuck friend. “Believe me, if I was in the market for a relationship, you’d be the first girl I’d call. I’m just not in that place right now.” I cringe at the douche level of the words spilling out of my mouth. I’m screwing this up so bad. I should just stop talking now, but I can’t.
Thankfully, Meghan’s shoulders slump and her bottom lip begins to tremble. I shouldn’t be so relieved at the sight, but at least I know she’s not going to slice my balls off with her fingernails now. “I can’t just be your friend with benefits anymore, Clay,” she whispers dejectedly. “I want more than that.”
How did I miss this? How did I not see she had developed feelings for me? A tear trails down her cheek, and even though I shouldn’t, I pull her close and wrap my arms around her. She lays her head on my shoulder and starts to cry as her arms wrap around my neck. She’s soaking my shirt with her tears, and jerk that I am, I hope she doesn’t cry long. If she gets mascara or snot on my shirt, it’s going to kill my chances of hooking up with anyone else tonight. Yeah, I know, I’m a dick.
She cries softly for just a few minutes before lifting her head and dropping her arms back to her sides. I pull my own out from around her and reach around to grab a tissue. She dabs at her eyes before blowing her nose delicately—I didn’t know that was possible, but it’s the only word I know of that fits the way she just did it. I sneak a look in the mirror at my shirt. It’s not the first time I thank every god I can think of for waterproof mascara. My shirt is a little damp, but that’s the only evidence of Meg’s cryfest. I put my arm around her shoulders and tug her into my side for one more quick hug before pulling open the door so she can walk through. Meg stops, causing me to almost run into her. When I see why, I curse my luck, because who’s standing just outside the door, hand raised to knock? Fucking Kat.