Still Jaded (3 page)

There was an awkward silence between us for a moment. I replayed my words and flinched from the raw emotion. And then Corrigan asked, "Who do you talk about it with? You don't mention it to me."

There was a knot in my throat, and I couldn't speak. I waved my hands in the air and shook my head. Corrigan groaned and moved close. "Hey, hey." He touched my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. "Sheldon, come on."

I couldn't, not then and there. The truth was that I didn't talk to anyone about it. Sometimes Bryce and I used to mention one or two things about Marcus Donadeli, but it was never in-depth. I had covered it in my counseling sessions with Miss Connors. Really. Did I have to talk about it to anyone else? Who would want to talk about that stuff?

I hurried out of the changing room and moved around the group of frat brothers.

"Sheldon! We're going to get a keg. Is that okay?" Michael Reveritt called out.

When I looked over, I gasped at what I saw. Bryce sat at one of the tables with Michael and a few others. That's not what made me gasp; it was the naked girl grinding on top of Michael while she eyed Bryce who sat right beside them.

"Get rid of the skank and you can have two kegs."

Michael flashed a smile and pushed the girl off his waist. She glared at me. I glared back. Then Michael called out, "Hey, pledge! Take Leah home."

One of them groaned but tore away from his group. As Leah dressed in reluctance, I looked up and caught Bryce's gaze. He was eyeing me, not in concern, not in caution, but in curiosity. And then his eyes trailed past my shoulders, and I looked. Corrigan was behind me, wearing a scowl.

Bryce stood up and asked, "What happened?"

Everyone quieted and looked over.

Corrigan jerked an abrupt shoulder. "Ask Sheldon. Since she doesn't effing talk about anything anymore. Wait—that's never changed, has it, Sheldon?"

I rounded on him. "Why are your panties so twisted? Is it because the Grace thing is out or is it because I don't talk to you about certain stuff?"

"You don't talk about anything. You left Bryce and you haven't said one word about the two of you. For the longest time I thought you'd broken up. Bryce is the one that had to tell me things were still okay with you two." He shrugged another shoulder and looked dejected. "You still don't let me in, not like Bryce, not even when he was across the world."

I narrowed my eyes and studied him hard. This wasn't normal for Corrigan, at least not in front of so many people. We didn't air our dirty laundry, and here he was, doing just that. I'd had enough. "Stop taking your bad mood out on me. You don't give a crap if I talk to you or not, not about those things. You're pissy about Grace. Are you in love with her?"

"What?" He froze, but his jaw clenched.

Bryce walked around the table. Michael and the brothers moved out of the way. And then Bryce bent, wrapped an arm around my waist, and lifted me up. He turned and called over his shoulder, "Party all you want, but don't trash the place and no media."

Corrigan snorted. "I can't believe you have to say things like that. 'No media.' That's rich." He forced a lighter tone, but I still heard the anger.

I lifted my head as I was transferred over Bryce's shoulder and glared. "You trash my place, and I'm coming after your balls."

"Yeah, well, we can
talk
about it afterwards," Corrigan threw back.

I flipped him
the middle finger as the door shut behind us. Then I wiggled to get off Bryce. "You can let me down."

Bryce didn't answer. He patted my butt and carried me through the dining room, kitchen, and up the stairs.

He paused at the top and I murmured, "I moved into the big room." So he swept to where my parents' room used to be. Once inside, Bryce deposited me on the king size bed and kicked the door shut at the same time.

I fell down and glared up at him.

He asked, "What the hell is going on with you and Corrigan?"

I stayed on the bed and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Sheldon, you and Corrigan have never fought, not like that. What happened this year? I know that you and I are—I'm not sure how we are, but you and Corrigan have always been solid. What the hell happened?"

I raised frosty eyes at him. "What would you know about it? You've been around the world, doing your thing. Where do you get off talking as if we're in a
relationship? This, you and me, it's called sex. That's all we've ever been."

Bryce shot a dark look at me and was quickly on top of me. He pinned my wrists to the bed and then growled. "We have been in a relationship since seventh grade. It took me six years
to finally get you to say that you loved me, so don't insult me right now by saying we're not in a relationship or that we never have been. I won't stand for it, Sheldon. Not anymore, especially after being apart from you for the last six months. You left me."

"You left me first!" I tried to kick free from him, but Bryce spread his legs and wrapped them around each of mine. I was trapped, and he knew it.

"I had to go to Europe for my family, remember? And you came with me."

"Well, it didn't
take
with me."

"You didn't give it a shot. And are we really having a fight the first night I'm back?" Bryce asked, exasperated, and rested his forehead against mine. I felt his breath on my cheek as he breathed. And then he shifted and I felt every part of his body on mine. He moved upwards and a groan escaped my lips when my groin came into contact with his.

He chuckled. I couldn't keep back a grin.

Some things never changed.

I looked at the clock the next morning and saw that it was already seven o'clock.
Seriously.
And then Bryce rolled over, tucked me against him, and nuzzled against the back of my neck.

"Morning, Jackass."

He snorted in laughter, his lips tickling my skin. "Someone might think you're happy to have me here."

I laughed and flipped over as Bryce wrapped his arms around me, twisting a leg over mine. I slid my leg between his and relished the closeness, breathing him in before resting my forehead against his chest.

He cradled my head and smoothed out my hair. I closed my eyes against the tender ministrations.

"When do you have class?" he asked. I could hear the jetlag in his voice.

I groaned with the effort, but removed myself and stood up from the bed.

Bryce rolled with me and sat on the edge of the bed in his boxers. He watched as I crossed to the private bathroom and flipped on the light.

"I have class in an hour."

"But you're going to swing by and talk to Corrigan?"

He knew me so well. "Yeah. You know Corrigan—he'll be freaking by noon if he thinks I'm still pissed at him."

Eyes knowing, he nodded but said nothing. Then he stood and ran a hand through his hair, his Mohawk was flat. Bryce shook his head and yawned again. "I need to wake up."

"You've got somewhere to be today?"

He reached for his shirt on a chair. "I'm meeting with my coach for breakfast and then with the team for lunch. I'm meeting the trainers in the afternoon."

"So you'll be around, when?" I put my toothbrush down and waited.

Bryce shrugged his lean shoulders and grinned as he eyed me up and down. "I'll be back by tonight. That's for damn sure."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you staying here or at your mother's?"

Bryce cursed. "You really think I'm going to put up with my mother?"

"So you're staying here?"

"We lived together in Spain."

"Yeah, but it's different when you have family here."

"What about you? Your mom's still in town, isn't she?"

I grimaced at the thought of her. "Dad won the house in the divorce. He signed it over to me so I don't have to put up with my mom."

Bryce zipped up his jeans and regarded me for a moment. His eyes held so many promises, but then he waved over his shoulder as he turned to the door. "I'm heading out. I'll see you later."

He left the door open, and I heard the front door click shut. The sound seemed to echo, almost painfully, and I was struck by how big my home was, how empty it was. After a second, I shook my head, cleared my thoughts, and moaned in protest—I needed to get ready no matter how much my body wanted to stay in bed.

I tried to hurry my shower but, as I bounded down the stairs, realized I'd need another shirt. My tank top wouldn't hold up against the air conditioning in class. I hurried back up, finding a cute white sweater that matched my blue top and white ruffled miniskirt. At the door, I slipped on white flip-flops and hurried towards the garage. As I got into my car, I was, again, struck—this time by the absence of the red Miata. It seemed weird, like it should've been there, but it was just another reminder that Bryce was back.

He was back…

I sighed and gunned the car. When I parked outside of Corrigan's frat house, I cringed at the thought of going in there. They all knew my issues, but I should've been used to it. My personal crap had been splashed across the European tabloids on a regular basis; a few frat brothers were nothing compared to that experience.

But I didn't get out of my car.

I should head in there. I should apologize. I should enjoy embarrassing what girl he had in his bed, because I knew he would have one.

But I didn't. The idea of seeing Corrigan died. A different knot had taken root in my stomach, and I turned the car around.

When I got to campus, the odd knot in my gut was gone. I forced it out. And I had enough time to check my mail and grab a coffee. The mailroom was no sweat—no one got their mail before eight in the morning, but the coffee kiosk, however, was another matter. I was seventh in line with another four behind me. All of them had the same hurried, irritated expressions on their faces. I started to space out my surroundings when the line shifted and someone screamed.

Suddenly, everyone was awake, and no one was in a hurry.

I looked around and saw that one of Corrigan's frat brothers had spilled coffee on a girl. She had her auburn hair in two dreadlocks and wore a pink top under overalls, untied white sneakers, and no socks. I liked the outfit, but I could tell whatever-his-name-was didn't give a damn.

"You—you—you—oh my God!" she finally ended her scream. Her hands were outstretched in the air. Her blue eyes snapped in anger.

"Hey, dude. Come on. Accident, seriously. I'll pay for a coffee." And there was Corrigan's brother speaking in his true tongue—dumbass.

"I don't care about the coffee. What am I going to wear? I commute an hour to go to school here, and I don't have a change of clothes. I have to walk around like this. I probably have second degree burns because of you."

"Raz," he offered as he gave her a lopsided grin and flipped his blonde mop to the other side of his head.

"What?" she growled.

Steam rose from the top of her head. It wasn't the coffee.

"That's my name. Raz. What's yours?" He held out a tanned arm and flashed a charming smile.

Oh yes, Raz was the stereotypical frat boy.

"Like I want you to know my name. I don't even want to associate with you."

"Oh come
on, don't be like that. Hey…uh…" Raz looked around with an easy shrug. Then his eyes lit on me.

I groaned.

They sparked alive. He snapped his fingers. "She's got clothes. She's, like, rich. She'll help."

The dreadlock girl swung glowering eyes my way, froze for a second, and then exclaimed, "Getting help from her would be like getting more coffee spilled on me. No thanks."

As she stomped away, she frantically rubbed at the coffee stain.

I
whistled as I drew close to Raz. "That's a first. I'm already hated and I haven't said a word. It usually happens after I've opened my mouth."

Raz shifted twice on his feet, readjusted his backpack over his shoulder three times, and then, when he was settled, shot out his hand. "I'm Raz. I'm in Corrigan's house. You have a spectacular game room."

"Game room?" It sounded sexual.

"Yes. You have an original Pac Man and three Froggies. They must've cost a fortune. I was in love last night."

"You made love to Pac Man?"

"Nah," flashing perfect white teeth while chuckling, "that'd be funny though. I'm studying to be a programmer. I want to develop programs like that."

And the stupid frat boy image went out the door.

"Mmm, wouldn't have pegged you for that type," I mused as the line shifted, and I was one person away from my coffee.

"I have to say that I love Corrigan, like truly love him, but not in the gay way. I just love the dude. He's a complete dude for all dudes, you know."

How could I have thought this guy wasn't smart?

"Thank you?" I wasn't sure what to say, but he was helping to pass the time.

"I figured you might not know who I am, but I know who you are. So, here I am. I'm Raz." He held his hand out once more. As I shook it, he continued, "Yeah, I don't know what her deal was. She must've heard about your celebrity beau and done one of those things, like, jealousy things."