Nothing But Trouble (Malibu University 1)

I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to ditch me and spend some time alone. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting, though. The last thing I want to be to him is another burden he can’t wait to be rid of.

“Want to crash at my place? No one’s home,” he says, staring out at the empty highway, tight grip on the steering wheel, broad shoulders at a perfect ninety-degree angle he’s so tense.

Okay, I was a little bit off the mark. A slow-spreading warmth that started in the cavity of my chest swiftly travels up my neck and over my face. We’ve never had a sleepover. This is highly irregular for us, but I don’t question it. He doesn’t want to be alone and I get it. I know how it feels. Sometimes to ride out the storm all you need is someone to hold on to, a fixed point, a steady presence that doesn’t tax you emotionally because you’re not invested that way. I’m that to him. Someone he’s not worried about impressing. Someone he’s not invested in.

Reagan’s gaze cuts back and forth from the road to me.

“I don’t have anything with me,” I remind him.

“You can borrow my stuff.”

An image of Reagan in nothing other than his underwear immediately crops up and once again I curse my ability to visualize in fine detail.

You can do this, Bailey. Your friend needs you. Buck up, bitch.

Because isn’t that what friendship is? Putting your own feelings aside when you’re needed. Stepping up to the plate knowing your heart’s on the line, the one that will take the hit.

“Okay,” I tell him.

An undeniable urge to gauge his reaction makes me glance his way again and I’m just in time to catch it, the subtle softening of his features, the relaxing of his shoulders. That’s when I know I made the right choice.

“Patrick,” he cryptically announces out of nowhere. “My middle name is Patrick…I’m ashamed of it.”

My heart hurts. It literally hurts for him. “You’re nothing like him,” I assure him. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Reagan

“I sleep naked.”

Maybe this is a mistake. Judging by the way Alice stands stiffly in the threshold of my bedroom, I would say it is. The abject fear on her face knocks a burst of laughter out of me. “Kidding. I keep my skivvies on.”

After the disaster at dinner, I need her here. I need her more than her desire to keep me at arm’s length and definitely more than my pride. She gets me. It’s not often you find someone that you don’t need to constantly explain yourself to. It’s never happened to me before and I’m not about to miss this opportunity. And maybe I am asking too much of a girl who has been very clear about friend-zoning me from the start, but I’m going to take anything I can get…even if it comes with the nastiest case of blue balls I’ve ever experienced.

I grab a t-shirt out of the dresser and toss it at her. Catching it, she holds it up to her body and the hem of my shirt hits her knees. Alice isn’t tiny, around 5’6”, but I’ve got a good six inches on her. She giggles, and my heart feels it. I swear the sound of her laughter has the power to push into place whatever it is that feels out of sorts inside my chest. She catches me staring at her mouth and her forehead wrinkles. I clear my throat, look away.

“There are clean towels under the sink and new toothbrushes. Take whatever you need.”

“Where’s Dallas and the Petermans?”

“Dall got in his car and said he’d be back in a few days. And the twins are with their parents until tomorrow.” A really awkward moment of silence ensues where I can’t help staring at her and she can’t seem to meet my eyes. “Al?” She quickly glances up. “If you’re uncomfortable…”

“No, I’m good.” She smiles and holds up the t-shirt as she crosses the bedroom headed for the bathroom. “Let me get changed.”

“Wanna watch something? I have Netflix and Apple TV.”

“Of course you do,” she teases. “Pick something and I’ll be out in a minute.”

The door shuts and I strip down to my black boxer briefs and select something to watch. Dead Pool 2. Perfect. After what happened at dinner, I’m wrecked and in dire need of a mindless distraction. I grab a couple of bottles of water out of the small refrigerator in my room, set them by the nightstand. I want her to be comfortable. That’s all…or maybe I’m somewhat nervous too.

Alice steps out of the bathroom wearing my favorite t-shirt. It hangs loosely to her knees, except for where the tips of her hard nipples tent the fabric. And the minute I get a good look, I lose what’s left of my mind and go full-on cro-fucking-magnon.