Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends 2)

More silence.

Then,

“Yes.”

My ovaries begin clenching from the injustice of it all. Why, God? Why! Why make the one man I want to resist so gosh darn irresistible? It’s all I can do not to shake my fist at the sky like a super weirdo.

“That’s…that was sweet of you.”

“I guess.” He sounds uncomfortable talking about it. “My brother and I went halvsies—well, I paid a thousand dollars more, so like…I paid more.” He sniffs, indignant. “Not that it matters, but I did.”

I chuckle. He is such a brat about his brother—it must have been hell for his mother raising those two.

I want to climb out of bed and join him on the floor, but what reasonable excuse do I have for going down where it’s uncomfortable and cold?

Not a one.

My brain goes around and around. My teeth? Dig into my bottom lip as I stew. Finally, I roll off the bed, dressed in nothing but my underwear, feeling my way around the bed to where I think Buzz is lying on the floor, with my pajama bottoms. Er, shorts.

I step on a body part and he yelps. “What the fuck! That was my ankle.”

Crap. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

“What are you doing?”

“Can I have my pants back?”

13

Trace

“Can you have your pants back?” I feel around in the dark, hands blindly maneuvering their way along the carpet. It’s an itchy spot to be for the night, but the last thing I want is for Hollis to think I’m some pervert who cannot keep his hands to himself. I don’t need her to think I have no boundaries.

“You know—my shorts. The shorts.”

“Are you wearing clothes right now?”

“I told you—I’m wearing underwear.” Even in the dark, I can make out her silhouette, her outline backlit by the outside security lights. “What are you wearing?” She sounds like she’s talking to Jake from State Farm.

“Um…the same thing I had on when my mom so rudely turned off the lights.”

“Oh.” It sounds like she’s biting her lip. Sounds a bit disappointed, or maybe I’m imagining things. I have been down here for what seems like hours, exiled alone with no food, no water, no light source. Naked and afraid, almost. Minus the naked part.

“Here are your bottoms.” The shorts she was wearing are in my hand, clenched in my fist, and I hold them up as an offering. “Try not to crush my balls like you crush my dreams.” I can sort of see her getting closer, slowly—hesitantly—then lowering herself to her hands and knees. “Are you crawling?”

“Yes. I don’t want to crush your balls.” Her hands explore, feebly feeling along my calves. Knees. “Oh! Is this you?”

“Yeah that’s me.” I hold my breath as her hands roam. Searching but not really, because she knows she’s found me, and if she’d just sit there, I could hand her the shorts. They’re still suspended above the floor, in my waiting fist.

I almost forgot for a second that she’s not wearing clothes—why she hasn’t put her shit back on is beyond me. If she’s trying to gross me out, it’s not working. It’s the opposite of working.

Still, I don’t say the magic words: Hollis, I have your shorts in my hand. Hold still and I’ll give them to you.

Nope.

I want to see what she does instead, and maybe get a kiss or two from her in the process. You gonna fault a guy for hoping? It could happen!

I wish.

Rather than asking for the bottoms, Hollis puts her hands on my chest. Carpet. Patting the spot beside me, then leaning forward and yanking the bedspread off the mattress, dragging it to the floor.

“What’d you do that for?”

“I’m cold.”

“Then put your clothes back on.” Number one on the list of things I’ll never say again.

She doesn’t listen, hunkering down beside me and pulling the blanket up, over her shoulders, and since I’m cold too, I snag a corner. “Mind if I steal some of this?”

When she throws the comforter over my legs and scoots closer, my brain spontaneously combusts from the skin-on-skin contact. Our legs are touching! She is touching my leg with her leg!

“You know what I think would be fun?” She’s whispering now, tentatively, words leaving her lips at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“I could think of a thousand things that would be fun. Do you mean right now, or like—tomorrow?”

She laughs. “Right now.”

“Um.” I can think of a thousand things that would be super fun right now, but I highly doubt they’re the same things she’s got in her mind. “What?”

“When…” Hollis clears her throat. “Is the last time you…”

She stops.

“The last time I…?” What? The last time I what? THE LAST TIME I WHAT! SPIT IT OUT, HOLLIS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

The last time you went streaking in your parents’ yard? The last time you played twenty questions? The last time you made shadow puppets?