Penelope Douglas - Until You

Walking back into my room, I dried my hair and noticed that I had another text.

What’s in it for u? K.C. asked.

Well, I couldn’t tell her the truth.

Fun.

I don’t know, she texted. Tate’s already mad at me.

Tate won’t know, I lied and threw the phone on the bed to go get dressed.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” I rested my forearm on the wall above K.C.’s head and leaned into her, almost touching.

Her breath caught as I trailed my fingers on the sliver of skin peeking out between her shorts and shirt. “What are we going to do?” she played along, looking absolutely turned-on and helpless.

Her idiot ex-boyfriend was in the cafeteria, and we were outside the double doors, hot in each other’s space.

Her back was against the wall, but he could see her, and he could definitely see me.

I just wished Tate could see this, too.

My lips hovered just a hair away from hers as I ran my hand around her back, about to dive in for the kill. “We could play Monopoly,” I suggested, pressing my body into hers. “Or the Wii.”

Her eyes got wide, and her lips tightened, trying to hold back a laugh. While we looked like we were about to get it on, our conversation didn’t deliver.

“I don’t know,” she moaned. “I’m not very good at Wii.”

“It’s not that hard.” My whisper fanned over her lips. “Watch.”

And I pulled her into me, kissing her long and slow.

Her slender frame molded into mine, and she tilted her head to the side as I trailed a line to her ear.

She was easy in my hands. Small, soft, bending when I pulled…she knew what to do.

K.C. definitely wasn’t innocent. I could feel that.

But she was an easy target right now, and I didn’t go for that.

And… I definitely felt like I’d lost my heartbeat somewhere in the middle of making out with her.

Jesus.

My lips and hands went through the motions. Kiss, kiss, bite, squeeze…and nothing fucking happened.

What the hell?

I knew I wasn’t interested in her, but damn! I should feel some kind of jolt. Some kind of reaction. She had tits, after all.

But no. Nothing. I was dead. I was doing my Literature homework. I was playing golf.

I hate golf.

And that’s when I pinched my eyebrows together, still kissing her and realizing that I hadn’t pursued any girls in a couple of weeks.

The second bell rang. K.C. jumped, and I leaned back, still held hostage by the fact that the only time I’d gotten a hard-on lately was around Tate.

Christ.

I backed off K.C. and tipped my chin at her. “Text if you want to come over later. Liam will hear about it.” And Tate will see you, I thought to myself. “You don’t want him thinking you were sitting at home alone all night, do you?”

I knew that would push her.

But before she had a chance to answer, I slapped her on the ass, knowing Liam would see.

K.C. just smiled, her eyes wide with shock before she turned and ran to class.

I let out a sigh, watching her disappear down the hall.

I wasn’t going to class. I had a meeting with the fucking counselor this morning. College-talk time.

No, actually that was last year. Now, since I hadn’t made any plans, it was the make-a-decision-or-make-your-own-bed-and-lay-in-it talk.

“Hey, man.” Madoc came through the cafeteria doors before I’d even moved. “Was that K.C. that ran off? You haven’t tapped that yet?” He fastened the cap on his Gatorade.

I turned, knowing he’d walk with me. “Who’s saying I haven’t?”

“Uh, because you’ve never been seen with a girl after you’ve fucked her. I doubt you even wait until the condom is off before forgetting their names.”

I halted in front of the staircase I needed to take. Was he serious? A judging tone, from him? “And you do?” I asked, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

Madoc had probably scored more tail than I had.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He shrugged it off. “I’m just saying, you never had to work this hard to get a girl into bed.”

Madoc looked at me expectantly through his bruised eyelids.

“I’m in no hurry. I might want to play around with this one for a while.” I couldn’t tell Madoc the truth.

I never told anyone anything.

“Tate’s going to be pissed,” he pointed out, like I hadn’t thought of that.

“The whole point.”

Madoc nodded. “Oh…so that’s the plan.”

Well, what the hell did he think I was doing? Actually dating K.C.?

Enough. “Thanks again for backing me up last night.” I changed the subject and turned to climb the stairs.

But Madoc spoke up again. “This thing?” he started, and I stopped. “With Tate? Why do we do it? I know I’ve asked before, but you don’t tell me shit. I just don’t get it.”

Jesus Christ.

I turned back around to face him, done talking about this.

He’d asked lots of times before, and each time I’d targeted that girl it was for a different reason.

I liked playing games.

I wanted control.

I was protecting her.

I never had an answer that satisfied me, let alone worth repeating. In my head, it always seemed reasonable, but saying it out loud sounded crazy.

But while Madoc was curious, he was also game. Anytime I wanted help spreading a rumor or messing with Tate over the years, he’d always stepped up. At my request and of his own volition.

The party a year ago where he threw her keys into the pool, and she’d broken his nose.

All his idea.

My first party this year when she screamed, “Cops?” Did I tell him to put his hands on her?

I narrowed my eyes on him. “I think you go above and beyond. You mess with her without me telling you, so why do you care?”

He smiled and let out a nervous laugh, brushing me off. “This isn’t about me. I never wanted to make an enemy of that girl. She came outside last night like she was ready to back us up. She’s hot, athletic, tough, and she can handle a gun. What’s not to like?”

Every muscle in my shoulders and arms flexed. I didn’t like that Madoc was veering away from how I wanted people to see her, and I fucking hated that he drooled over her.

I came back down the stairs, my boots pounding on the tile almost as hard as the blood pumping in my veins, and bore down at my best friend.

“Stay away from her.”

He held up his hands and smiled like he was trying to calm me down. “Hey, man, no worries. She broke my nose and kicked me in the balls. I think that ship’s sailed.” He narrowed his eyes and looked confused. “But if you don’t want her, why can’t anyone else have a shot?”

Why, indeed?

The shit I’d pulled on Tate over the years could be chalked up to hate, anger, need for control.

But not letting other guys near her? That wasn’t a game.

That was about me not being okay with anyone else’s mouth or hands on her.

And I needed to let that shit go.

“I’m not standing in her way anymore,” I said calmly. “If she wants to date and screw every guy in school, she can have a ball. I’m done.”

“Well good,” Madoc said, stretching his fat mouth into a wide grin. “Because word is she went out with Ben Jamison last night.”

The walls closed in. Madoc got smaller and smaller.

Ben and Tate? No, no, no…

My long-sleeved black thermal was suffocating me, and for the first time since last fall I actually felt inclined to rip off the goddamn sleeves again just to breathe.

“That’s fine,” I clipped out, barely unscrewing my jaws to speak. “I couldn’t care less. They can all have her.”

But I never, for a single second, meant it.

* * *

Tate and K.C. got into it at lunch again. I could see them eating lunch at the picnic tables outside, and both were talking intensely, Tate looking away, shaking her head, and K.C. looking apologetic.

While I told myself that it would be worth it when it was done, I still felt like shit. K.C. wasn’t telling Tate about using me to get back at her boyfriend. If she did, they probably wouldn’t be fighting. Not that Tate would be okay with it, but she probably wouldn’t be barely eating her lunch and scowling so much.

No, Tate thought K.C. and I were hooking up.

Telling the school she had genital warts or lice had been mean but still funny. Trying to steal her best friend was cruel. It would really hurt her.

Exactly what I wanted, I told myself.

But day after day I caught myself mesmerized by her every move. The methodical way she’d sharpen her precious pencils, the way her hair fell over her shoulder when she’d lean down to grab something from her messenger bag, or watching her body bend as she’d sit down or get up. Every bit of skin, every smile, and every time she licked her lips had a lightning storm shooting downwards from my stomach to my dick, and I almost wished she was back in France.

At least I could hate her and not want to fuck her every second.

Madoc called it hate-fucking. He told me once that he’d never loved anyone, but he’d had sex with someone he really hated once, and it was the best he’d ever had.

Passion, punishment, anger—it sounded like an attractive but dangerous mix.

I let out a breath and straightened my shoulders as I walked into my last class of the day—the class I shared with Tate.

“Leave.”

I heard Tate’s voice as soon as I walked in the door, and I snapped my attention to Nate Dietrich leaning on her desk, crowding her space.

“That’s your last warning,” she continued, looking angry and embarrassed at the same time.

“Jared’s right,” Nate grumbled and stood back upright. “You’re not worth it.”

And I was on his fucking ass. “Sit down, Nate.”

He spun around, eyebrows raised and looking surprised as we stood in between the rows of desks that were quickly filling up with students.

“Hey, man, no offense.” He held up his hands. “If you’re not done with her…”

My arms tensed with the need to haul this guy out of here by his balls.

If I’m not done with her?

And just then, I felt like crawling inside of myself to hide.

My throat tightened.

What the hell?

I wanted her to hurt. I didn’t want her to hurt.

I hated her. I loved her.

I wanted to violate her body in a hundred different ways. I wanted to keep her safe.

There was no limit to how fucking confused I was right now, but one thing was for certain.

She wasn’t trash.

Over the years, she’d endured a lot of harassment because of me. People are easily manipulated. They want to be accepted, and gossip is taken as gospel. Tell people that someone has their clit pierced or that they eat dogs, and you just have to sit back and watch the school flood with talk.

However, by junior and senior year, my childish rumors were about as effective as a broken condom. I’d wanted to keep guys away from Tate, but that wasn’t working so much anymore. They saw she was beautiful, and now, after the locker room incident, they saw her as a slut, too.

And for the first time, I wasn’t getting any peace from tormenting this girl. I just wanted to wrap her up in my arms and see her smile.

My eyes narrowed, and I wished for a perfect world where I could toss darts at this guy’s dick. “Don’t talk to her again,” I commanded. “Go.” And I jerked my chin off to a corner he should go fucking hide in.

Was I better than him?

No. But I’d deal with that shit later.

Tate let out an aggravated sigh as Nate walked off, and I turned my eyes on her in time to see her lips tighten. I saw the scowl, knew it was meant for me, but didn’t even have a chance to figure out why when she spoke up.

“Don’t do me any favors,” she sneered. “You’re a miserable piece of shit, Jared. But then, I guess I’d be miserable, too, if my parents hated me. Your dad left you, and your mom avoids you. But who can blame them, right?”

I stopped breathing, and the room shrunk in on me.

What the fuck did she just say?

I stared at her, feeling torn apart and dead, knowing that it was completely un-Tate to say something like that but knowing she spoke the truth.