Chapter 2
College Boy Manwhore
That night we’re in the back room of my favorite dive bar, The Hole. Its real name is The Barn, but somewhere along the way it was nicknamed The Hole, likely because it’s a dingy hole-in-the-wall. The wooden tables, which are as old as the building, are carved with names, perverted sayings, and phallic drawings. The bathroom has dirt in the corners, that could possibly precede the tables, and the walls are covered with names and drawings, but also have the bonus of phone numbers. Many times I’ve been peeing in there and found myself wondering who thinks to bring a sharpie to a bar.
The Hole may not be a five-star, or even a two-star, establishment, but you won’t find better people than the ones who work and hang out here. Nate, the main bartender on evenings and weekends, calls everyone by name, and he’s always smiling. At any given time, you can find a mix of farmers, still wearing their muck boots, factory workers getting off shift, bikers playing pool, and college kids acting like toddlers.
There’s a small stage where local bands sometimes play, but tonight it’s the jukebox that fills the room with Imagine Dragon’s Demons. After a couple of drinks, Adrian, Max, Gemma, and I find our way to the back room to play darts. Shyanne left early and Kade wasn't far behind. I can already tell that there is going to be drama with those two.
Gemma, and I only met Shyanne a couple months ago. That night, Shy was dressed in a plaid button-down, jeans, and cowboy boots. She looked like she’d just jumped off a horse. With her long, wavy brown hair and soft blue eyes, she’s stunning, but incredibly uncomfortable around guys. That night, and most of the time now, she has the look of a baby deer who’d been abandoned by its mother. Shy’s not a girl who wants to fit in, or attract a hot guy—she has the expression of someone simply trying to survive. The night Gemma and I met her I felt a protective instinct toward her, even though she had Ryder, her very hot best friend, with her.
Shy works on a horse farm a few minutes outside town and she was living with Ryder when we met her. I’m pretty sure she has an interesting story, but she’s a private person, so I don’t ask too many questions. Although I share almost every thought that crosses my mind, I know most people aren’t that open.
Now, Guns N’ Roses is playing on the jukebox as we find a table and pick teams. Gemma sucks at darts, but since it’s only for fun, I accept her on my team. She gives me a sarcastic “Thanks,” as she steps up to shoot first. I sit, expecting Adrian to sit too since he’ll be shooting last. Instead, he stands next to the table, arms across his chest, and his thumb tapping to the song on his bicep. I pick up my beer and lean back to observe. He’s either agitated or generally restless.
After the first game, everyone sits, but Adrian, who’s been bouncing around this room like he’s on a sugar high. I’m a low-intensity person, and his level of activity is making me agitated.
“Dude, you need to sit your ass down before I knock you down. You’re like a kitten on crack,” I tell him.
“You always this violent?” he asks while beating out a rhythm on the table with the darts.
“Yes,” Gemma says, faster than I can reply. She's right, I do often have the urge to beat the shit out of someone. To my credit, I've never really injured, I just keep dreaming of it.
Adrian smiles seductively. “I love a girl who likes it rough.”
“Oh no, you got that all backward,” I clarify. “I’m not the one who likes it rough. I like to torture other people. If you don't mind being tied up while I strategically place clothes pins on your testicles, then by all means let's have a go,” I say with a saccharin sweet smile.
Max barks out a laugh while pointing at Adrian. “Oh shit bro, I think you met your match.”
Adrian smiles and shakes his head almost imperceptibly as if he doesn’t know what to think of me.
Before we begin our next game, Max asks if we need another beer.
I groan and lean back in my chair, sticking out my bloated stomach. “No thanks,” I moan. “I should've worn sweatpants.”
I may have great legs, and a small waistline, but when I eat or drink too much, my stomach can expand enough to rival that of a pregnant woman.
Adrian twists and looks immediately to my non-pregnant belly. He pitches forward, staring at my stomach. “What the hell is that?”
“That,” I say, rubbing my miserably bloated stomach, “is a combination of PMS and a bad choice to drink beer.”
Adrian walks over and begins poking at me. “That's awesome,” he says, looking intrigued. “Most girls try to hide their fat and would never talk about being bloated or being on their period.”
I sit up, swatting at his hands. “First, I’m not fat, I’m bloated. Second, there’s a big difference between me and those girls.”
“That’s what I said,” he interrupts, shaking his head and looking at me like I’m the crazy one.
I roll my eyes. “I mean, those other girls are trying to impress you because they want to hook up. My intentions lean in the other direction—to keep you away.”
I have no need for male attention in my life right now, especially from someone like Adrian Elliott.
Adrian backs up, wearing a crooked smile. “That’s cute how you pretend you’re not mad for me.”
Is he high? He has to be high, that would explain his delusions and hyperactivity.
“Someone in this room is mad all right,” I mumble.
“You have no idea,” he says with a wiggle of his brow.
What does that even mean?
I’m about to point out he’s still not making sense, when I see Ryder, Shyanne’s best friend, walking toward us. I sit up, sucking my belly back in and smooth my shirt down. I may have purred a little too.
My first serious boyfriend was your typical bad boy. He rode a motorcycle, had several tattoos at the age of nineteen, and he was in a band. Since then, if I see an attractive guy with tats and a look that says he’d break your heart, I fall instantly in love. Ryder Reed meets all those qualifications. It’s too bad he’s Shy’s best friend and she won’t let him touch me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try every chance I get.
I may not want a guy in my life, but I’d make an exception for Ryder Reed, for one night.
“Hey girls,” he says in his smoky voice, “I came to say good night. I’m heading out.” He grabs my hand to pull me into a hug. “I’m leaving town early tomorrow.”
I take advantage of this full body contact, burying my face in his neck and inhaling deeply. I refrain from licking him, although it takes remarkable willpower. With my arms still around his neck, I lean back and give him my sexiest smile. “Are you finally going to take me home with you?”
He chuckles, and I shiver. “Nice try Keegan, but you know Shyanne would have both our heads for that.”
I stick out my bottom lip in a pout. “Just one night? We don’t ever have to tell her.”
He pulls me back into a hug and kisses my forehead. “I care too much about you to be that guy.”
I know this is true, not just his way of brushing me off. Ryder may look like a bad boy, but he’s a gentle giant and fierce protector of everyone he loves. The chemistry between us has been obvious from the first week I started hanging out with Shyanne, and that’s not me being delusional. There’ve been a couple times in his kitchen when we’d be playfully flirting, then I’d find myself backed against the wall, staring into his eyes. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he’d shake his head and walk away.
Gemma sighs. “He’s even sweet when he’s rejecting you.”
I stick out my tongue at her as he releases me. Ryder gives her a quick hug then points to the both of us.
“You girls be safe tonight and call a cab if you have much more to drink.” He turns to face Max and Adrian. “Just met you boys, but I think you can see that Shy and these two girls mean a lot to me.”
And that’s all he says because his threatening expression is enough to make his point. The guys straighten a bit but make no argument.
I audibly sigh as he saunters out of the bar looking like a man who is confident he’s the biggest badass in this town.
“What the hell was that?” Adrian asks, bringing me back to this life.
“That was my future husband,” I say in a dreamy tone.
“Really?” Adrian asks, sounding intrigued.
“You heard him,” I say, scrunching up my face.
“Sure,” he agrees. “I’m just curious to hear what you think he said.”
I scowl with irritation. “He said that he’s sorry he has to postpone our wedding again. He has to leave for South East Asia tomorrow tonight because there’s an orphanage full of small children he must rescue. He promised he’ll return soon and then we will wed.”
Max’s eyes are wide, and Gemma has her face buried in her hands.
“Yeah,” Adrian says, in a patronizing tone, “That’s what he said.”
Of course I’m screwing with Adrian, but there’s definitely been a push-pull with Ryder and me.
I enjoy sex, but I don’t enjoy relationships. I can count the number of guys I’ve been with on one hand, but I’ve only had one real boyfriend. I enjoy casual sex, with a single partner, until things are getting too cozy with that person. Ryder’s the kind of guy who would want the cozy with the sex, and he knows that doesn’t work for me. Plus, Ryder’s top-secret commando job is not conducive to a relationship right now. He says Shyanne’s the reason he’s denying me, but we both know it’s more complicated than that. One night together would leave us both looking for answers we don’t have.
Adrian’s expression shifts, now looking offended. “I have to tell you how wounded I am. I mean, I know I told you to stop giving me your sex eyes, but that doesn’t make it’s okay for you to give sex eyes to another guy the same day. Do you always move on this quickly? What does he have that I don’t?”
Oh yes, I forgot that Adrian is high, so back to entertaining his ridiculous topics.
Max groans. “I’m going to get another beer. I can’t handle his dramatics right now.”
I roll my eyes then explain, “He’s a badass. You’re a college boy manwhore.”
Max laughs, sitting back down. “Okay, I’ll stay.”
Adrian stares at me, unblinking. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
I straighten in my seat, preparing for the lecture I’m about to give because I do feel that it’s an important message. “Well, let me explain the difference. When it comes to sexual experiences, college boy manwhores are concerned with quantity. A mature badass is concerned with quality—for him and his partner.”
I point at Adrian. “Let me guess, when you’re with a girl you attack her face for a minute, then start sucking on her neck and ear. Next, you jam your hand down her pants and move your fingers around for about thirty seconds. When you realize you’ve got the go ahead for the home run, you start ripping clothes off and put the condom on as fast as possible. While she lays under you moaning Oh yeah Adrian, you hammer into her for two minutes, then collapse on top of her after you come.” I raise my eyebrows in question. “Does that sound about right?”
Gemma laughs. “That sounds like almost every experience I’ve ever had.”
Max shifts uncomfortably.
“Well, you make it sound a lot less exciting,” Adrian says, pursing his lips. Then he decides to go on the defense. “No… that's not at all what I do. I have some really mad moves.”
“Uh-huh, I’m sure you do.”
He hesitates, and I can see the thoughts racing in his eyes. “I think this is your way of telling me you wanna find out.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and wrinkle my nose. “No, that’s not at all what I’m telling you.”
He lowers his eyelids as he leans in, placing one hand on the table next to me, and the other on the wall next to my head. I lower my gaze so that I’m not staring into his eyes, when I see the bicep of the arm pressing into the table. The definition of the muscles surprises me. I noticed earlier he’s in shape, but by the looks of that arm, he spends a lot of time at the gym. It’s a very nice arm.
“See something you like?” he asks, his voice teasing as he leans in closer, forcing me to look at him.
I know I’m busted. All my big talk of him being a college boy and me not being attracted, but he doesn’t call me on it. He simply pushes off the table, giving me an obnoxious smile.
Gemma clears her throat. “Are you done with this bizarre mating dance you two have going on? I’m ready to go.”
“Yep,” I say, jumping off my seat and ignoring her comment about the mating dance. He may have nice arms, but there is nothing else about Adrian Elliott that I find attractive. He’s a hyperactive, self-sabotaging, pretty boy. No thanks.