Erin McCarthy - Sweet

“You got this,” he told me, sounding way more confident than I felt.

But I was nothing if not stubborn. I figured I could power my way through the course. Which is what I did. Leaping over the fire was no big deal. The wall wasn’t that tough either, and I gained ground on some of the other competitors by showing no hesitation in just dropping the five feet from the top down the other side, landing with an oomph on the soft ground. Only one other girl just free-fell like I did. The others eased themselves down, and I felt a certain triumph. What I had loved about volleyball was the jump, the hit, the power. The pure adrenaline that came from rushing the net and stuffing an opponent.

The control.

I pushed it hard, the buzzing in my ears, the crowd yelling, and the rush of my burning lungs. Okay, I’m not going to lie. When I dropped in the mud pit, the first slap of hot sludge sliding over made me want to gag, and an army crawl through slop is harder than it looks. But using my elbows and my thighs, I hauled myself through and scrambled to my feet, my hair falling out of my ponytail and slapping me in the cheek with a wet layer of mud. For a second I couldn’t see, but as I ran in the general direction of the finish line, I swiped at my eyes with the one spot on my forearm that was clean. I saw that Riley was at the finish line yelling for me, a grin splitting his face.

In my wave of competitors, I finished second behind the girl who had jumped with me. Stumbling to a stop, I sucked in a few deep breaths and slapped Riley’s hands, which he had raised for a double high five. A high ten.

“Babe, that was awesome!” he said. “You killed it!”

“Told you,” I wheezed. Then I leaned forward and wiped my muddy hands on his chest.

Instead of being pissed, he laughed. He grabbed both my dirty cheeks and gave me a kiss.

“When is your turn?” I asked, still breathing hard. “I’m dying of thirst and I want to steal your beer.”

“I think I have a few minutes.”

“Okay.” I peeled off his T-shirt and slapped the muddy mess against his chest. “Here’s your shirt back.”

He cocked his head. “Oh, you are just asking for it.”

“Yes, I am.” I grinned before throwing my arms around his neck, rubbing my body against his, the shirt wedged between us. “Kiss me.”

Riley laughed and ran his hands all over my muddy ass before letting them rest on my back. “Too bad there are a hundred people around us.”

That was what I had been waiting to hear—that there was some hint he wanted me the way I wanted him.

But his kiss was sweet, not intense.

Damn the crowd.

When Riley’s heat went, I was stunned watching him. His focus and intensity were unreal. He didn’t look at any of the other guys, and his trajectory was completely straight, his feet eating up the course at top speed. He was up the wall in two leaps, and down the other side. I wondered if he had played sports in high school because he moved like an athlete, his arms tucked in close to his abs. Unlike me, he didn’t flop into the mud like a tripped hippo, but he crouched low and covered half the pit with one leap forward.

Sexy. I was warm from more than the hot sun beating down on me.

Shielding my eyes so I could see, I slipped in between two women in their forties to watch him overtake the guy in front.

“Yummy,” the one said to the other. “I love me some tattooed boys.”

Normally, I would have just listened in silent amusement. But I felt a wave of territorialism and the need to claim and brag. It was a foreign feeling, and before I knew it I was blurting out, “That’s my boyfriend.”

They glanced over at me, smiling. “He’s very pretty,” the one said. “And with such a hard body. What a perfect combo. Enjoy him.”

She was right, but wow, that was pure objectification of another human being. I knew my friends and I did that, too, but hearing it said about Riley made me realize girls were no better than guys when it came to checking out the opposite sex.

So I said, “Thanks. He’s very sweet.” Which just made them laugh.

But then I had no time for them because Riley finished the race in first place, looking barely winded.

“See?” he said when I made my way over to him. “Smoking doesn’t even affect me.”

I snorted. “That is the worst justification I’ve ever heard.” But I reached for his hand. “But that was an awesome job. You were like a mud ninja out there.”

“Thanks. We need a picture of us. Where’s your phone?”

“In my fanny pack,” I deadpanned. “In the car, where do you think?”

“God, you’re such a brat. Go get it while I get my beer. Of which you can have none because you’re underage.”

Like he wouldn’t cave if I asked him for a sip. Feeling happy, sticky, and proud of myself, I took his keys and went to the car to get my phone. When I came back he was holding a giant beer stein and wearing a Viking hat.

“Wow, you’ve never been hotter.” And I kind of meant it.

“You came in tenth out of forty-five in your age bracket,” he said. “Good job.”

“Thanks. That’s not bad considering I didn’t know what I was doing. How did you finish overall in your bracket?”

“Second.”

“Woot.” I gave him another high five. “You are awesome.”

“Thanks.” He kissed me, and I tasted the beer on his breath.

“So. Thirsty. Dying.”

He grinned. “Take a sip, but if you get caught, I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

“Yeah, right.” I took a quick sip, shielding myself from view by leaning over and letting my hair fall in front of me. The cup was down by his waist.

“This looks really inappropriate,” he said. “I’m getting a boner because of it.”

About time. “Then let’s go home.” I stood up and eyed him. “I’m feeling dirty,” I said in a flirty voice.

Riley put his arm around me as we headed toward the car. “We can fix that.”

He better mean fix it in the way I wanted to fix it. “How about a hot, wet shower?”

I wasn’t exactly being subtle, but he didn’t respond in the way I wanted him to. He just said, “I need food first, I’m starving.”

“Of course you are.” Not exactly what I wanted to hear.

I was consoled by the fact that when we got in the car, Riley showed no concern for his upholstery and pushed me backward, kissing me with a ferocity he hadn’t shown since our first real make out session, his hand brushing over my breast.

Yes. That’s what I wanted. That hot, deep slide into oblivion, that tingling over my skin, wet tongues and tight nipples.

But he pulled back just as I was getting into it. As he put the key in the ignition, I was sideways, knee up, on my elbows, breathless and unsatisfied.

WTF.

“That’s a good look on you,” Tyler said when I walked in the front door. He was reclining on the couch, his phone up to his ear, a burger bag on the coffee table. “By the way, Rory wants to know why you’re not answering her texts and if you’re avoiding her for some unknown weird girl reason. Those are my words, not hers.”

I kicked off my shoes by the front door. “I’m not avoiding her.” Not much anyway. Just slightly, because I didn’t want to talk about Riley with her. I didn’t know what to say. We like each other? That felt so lame. Nor was I going to share my fear that Riley didn’t want to have sex with me. Rory would say he was respecting me or some such crap like that, but I knew that even guys who respect you want to bang you.

Besides, I wasn’t comfortable sharing my emotions. What I was feeling was new and different and I wanted to keep it in a private little box labeled Mine, Mine, Mine. If I tried to talk about Riley, I wouldn’t be able to express myself, because I didn’t even understand completely what I felt.

But I didn’t want my friend thinking I was mad at her. “Give me the phone.” I held out my hand.

“No. You’re covered in mud. Besides, I’m talking to her. You can call her later.”

“Rory, your boyfriend is a controlling dick,” I said loudly so she would hear me. “He’s keeping us apart for no reason.”

Tyler laughed and threw a balled-up fast food napkin at me. I caught it. Riley put his own fast food bag down next to Tyler’s and was about to sit on the easy chair when I said, “Halt! Change your shorts first.”

“I’m dry,” he protested.

“No. You’ll crumble and flake off all over the furniture.” I wasn’t budging on that. I couldn’t regulate his appalling diet, but I could force him to keep the house clean.

“Who is the controlling dick in this room?” Riley asked, but he just stood over the coffee table and started eating his burger hovering there.

“Can I borrow some clean clothes?”

“Yep. Everything is going to be too big on you though.” Riley took another huge bite of his burger.

“Whatever. I’m taking a shower.” I paused, pointedly.

“Okay.”

That was it. Riley was still focused on his beef. Tyler, who had gotten off the phone, seemed to get that I was extending an invitation. He raised his eyebrows and looked at his brother like he was an idiot. It was a small consolation.

“You can come with me,” I said, going for flat-out obvious.

“I’m eating.” A fry went into his mouth.

And that would be the cold slap of rejection. Defeated, I turned on my heel and headed to the bathroom. “Fine.”

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tyler asked him.

I paused down the hallway, eavesdropping, wanting to hear Riley’s response.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re turning down a shower with your brand-new girlfriend? And don’t tell me it’s because of U and Easton, because they’re throwing a tennis ball they found at the garage door.”

“Mind your own business.”

“I’ve known Jess longer than you.”

Riley snorted. “No shit.”

Ugh. I was never going to be forgiven for not having the psychic abilities that would have allowed me to avoid sex with Tyler before I met Riley.

“Fine. I was just trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, so I went into Riley’s room and rooted through his drawers for a shirt and basketball shorts. I chose a shirt that said “Bacon is the question and the answer” with two strips of bacon on it. Somehow I didn’t think he would miss that one if I didn’t get it back to him right away. I may have slammed the drawer harder than was necessary. My visions of a porn star shower for two were not going to happen, so I went into the bathroom and washed the mud off my body with aggressive scrubbing and efficiency.

When I came out, thankfully swimming in Riley’s clothes, because no girl wants to discover her boyfriend’s clothes are tight on her, Riley was done with his binge eating. “Can you drive me home?” I asked, finger combing my wet hair before twisting it up into a bun to let it dry off my head.

He looked puzzled. “You have plans or something? I thought we were hanging out.”

“I already had plans with Robin to go to a party tonight. You and Tyler can meet us there if you want.”

“Where’s it at?” Tyler asked.

“Shit Shack.”

“Okay, cool.”

But Riley frowned. “I don’t want to go to a college party at some place called the Shit Shack.”

“I went to the Warrior Dash,” I pointed out. I could hear the mean creeping into my voice, and I wanted to go home before it got worse. My wounded feelings were notorious for driving me into bitchy mode, and I didn’t want Riley to be on the receiving end of that mood.

“True. Okay. What time?”

“Ten at the earliest.”

Riley stood up. “Can I shower before we go?”

“Sure.” Even though I really just wanted to crawl into bed at my apartment and feel bitter.

When he passed me he reached out and squeezed both of my breasts. “Mm. Bacon.”

Yeah, that didn’t improve my mood.

I turned and Tyler was watching me, and he gave a short laugh. “Don’t look at me, seriously. I don’t think I’m allowed to talk to you about, you know.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the bathroom Riley had retreated into.

Glaring at him, I said, “You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Okay, all I’m going to say is this—now you know what it’s like to date you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just think about it.” Tyler got up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes. “I’m going outside to smoke, and frankly, I don’t want to be alone with you. I don’t think Riley and I bloodying each other is going to look good in our custody case.”