Bad Judgment (20 page)

“There’s no point in borrowing trouble now. Just roll with it. Maybe you both kill the midterm, have your fling and the sex sucks, and you move on.”

A smile tugs at my lips because I can’t imagine the sex could possibly suck. But she’s right—I’m always planning my life out seventeen steps ahead, and right now, I just need to focus on the next goal in front of me, not a bunch of stuff I can’t control. Like she said, why borrow trouble?

Merica lifts her glass again and after she sips, she taps a nail on the side. “Now tell me, how big is that package he’s packing? Is it everything Becca said it was and more?”

I choke on my wine mid-swallow at her question. After I finish coughing up a lung, I stare her down. “Did I not just tell you I might
like him, like him
?”

She nods.

“And you’re still asking me this?”

“Of course. Friends don’t let friends date guys with small penises. If it’s avoidable, that is.”

“Let’s just say I have no complaints.”

A grin stretches across her face. “I knew it! For all that you’ve avoided men, you wouldn’t jump back into the game for a small cock.” She holds her glass aloft. “But this does deserve a toast. To Justine, may you get everything you’ve ever wanted, including all the best orgasms.”

I lift my wineglass and clink against hers. “Cheers.”

“So tell me, who was that hottie in the car? Are you thinking of taking them both on? Are you up for the two-dicks-and-one-chick situation?”

The base of my wineglass smacks against the table as I sit it down. “Hell no. There will be only one dick approaching this chick.”

Her laugh fills the room. “That’s what I thought. Well, if Jimmy ever gets boring . . .”

I grab another chunk of bread and toss it at her head.

Ryker

When I said I’d be able to concentrate and do nothing but study with Justine, I was way too fucking optimistic about my willpower.

It’s been weeks. Weeks of staring at her across this table at Unwired, doing my reading for all my classes, taking notes, working on outlines, and studying for this Professional Responsibility midterm. I’ve got calluses on top of calluses from beating off every night. Fuck, I’ve never gotten this much action from my hand since I was thirteen and hadn’t yet discovered the magic of pussy.

Justine, on the other hand, does a better job of looking unaffected, but I can see the frustration in her posture. I’ve choked back more sexual innuendo and compliments than I can count, and I think she actually misses it.

In these weeks of studying, things have changed. I don’t just want her lips wrapped around my cock. I don’t just want her legs wrapped around my waist as I sink deep inside her. Because if that’s all I wanted, I could have gotten it.

Now I’m addicted to her. Every fucking thing about her. Not just her eyes and hair and tits and ass—but her jokes, her quips, her observations. Just her.

Fucked. That’s what I am. Totally and completely fucked. I’m hung up on a girl for more reasons than the physical, and I know that’s where the trouble lies. I need her to feel the same way, and I have no fucking clue if she does.

We’ve become friends, but even now she keeps me at a distance. She rides her bike to Unwired, not letting me give her a lift, even when it’s dark and it pisses me off that she’s riding alone at night. She pretends not to notice that I wait for her to get a head start, and then I follow her home in my car because I hate that she’s still living in that shithole Gilroy complex. But there’s nothing I can do or say to change her mind. The girl has more pride than any man I’ve ever met.

And why the hell does that turn me on even more? Maybe because I’ve dated too many girls who were impressed with the money my family has and my parents’ positions. With Justine, I know that none of that holds any appeal for her. She’s not impressed by anything other than how much effort I’m willing to put into school.

Justine snaps her finger in front of my face. “Hey, are you paying attention? I’ve been talking for five minutes, and you’re staring into space like you’re out of it. What’s your deal?”

“I was staring at your lips.”

Her eyes widen, and for the first time since we struck our revised deal, I’m referring to the prize on the line.

Going all in, I add, “They’re distracting as hell.”

Justine’s gaze drops to the table. “We’re studying.”

“The midterm is in three days, and we’re both getting As.”

“That doesn’t mean we should stop studying now and take any chances.”

I drag my focus back to the case in front of me. “Okay.” I read the next three sentences before I speak again. “There’s a costume party Saturday night. At Green’s Square. You going?”

Justine looks up as she pops a Pez candy into her mouth from her Captain America dispenser. She crunches the candy before responding.

Yep, I’m fucked, because I even think that’s sexy as hell
.

“Merica wants to go. She’s got a sexy Tinkerbell costume she made last weekend. She’s been trying to talk me into going as Wonder Woman.”

The thought of Justine in tights and a cape . . . I shift on the cushion of the booth as my cock sits up and takes notice. “I’m putting my full support and approval behind that idea.”

She smirks. “Figures that you would.”

“Babe, you’re already Wonder Woman without the cape and tights. With them, you’ll be a fucking wet dream come true.”

Justine’s cheeks flush before she drops her gaze back to her book.

Just wait until after the midterm . . .

Justine

I didn’t think it would be this hard. I truly didn’t. But sitting across from Ryker four days a week and pretending I’m just studying has been hellish.

He’s not just the pretty face I wanted him to be. He’s smart. He’s witty. He’s . . . dangerous. And without the sexual innuendo I expected him to be constantly throwing into conversation, he’s become even more intriguing. Not that I have a problem with innuendo. I don’t. But when I was expecting it, and then instead I get studious-and-determined Ryker . . . it’s like Justine’s kryptonite has been located and identified.

Two weeks ago he stopped playing fair. He showed up in
glasses
. Dark rimmed, sexy as hell, and totally unexpected. If someone would have told me that Ryker could get any more attractive, I would have said they were on crack. But I was wrong. Completely and totally wrong.

I keep edging toward this sign in my head that reads Danger, Do Not Cross This Line.

I know I told Merica that I
liked him liked him
, but even then I didn’t truly understand the full magnitude of the situation. Now I’m facing actual feelings that aren’t all tied up in the physical side of things. We’re only days away from our midterm, and Babcock has already told us she’ll have the grades back before Halloween.

Every time I think about the midterm, I think about the deal we struck. One that I made for more than just the reasons he did, but regardless—I’m anxious to cash in on both my prize and his.

There’s nothing I’ve been able to do or say to change the facts. I want him.

I’ve been having sex dreams lately, for goodness’ sake.
Sex dreams
. About Ryker. I’ve never been this strung out in my entire life. But now we’ve got emotions running together, and I’m afraid things are going to get really, truly complicated.

But as long as his grades and mine stay up . . . what harm is it?

Justine

R
YKER
: Are you ready for tonight? Because I know I am. This guy got his A. Now I get the girl.

I stare down at my phone, and I know what he’s talking about. My heart hammers and my stomach flip-flops.

Babcock was late posting the grades and I’ve been hitting refresh all day like a crazy person. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

I made myself back away from the computer and do my reading for another class.

As soon as I read Ryker’s text, I run to my computer and pull up the grade portal. The browser seems to take forever to load.

Come on. Come on.

What if he got an A and I didn’t?

I’m nervous every time I check my grades, but never more so than right now.

I screw up my login and password twice before I have to wipe my hands on my jeans and enter each letter slowly. The page loads and I click on Professional Responsibility.

Another agonizing ten seconds pass before my grade pops onto the screen.

I got an A
.

A lump rises in my throat.

Holy. Shit. This is really happening. Tonight.

Why does it seem so much more intense right now because I know exactly what’s coming? Anticipation turns into chill bumps covering my bare arms as I glance at the Wonder Woman costume hanging in my tiny closet. Merica has an ace hand at sewing, and she spent the entire last weekend making it.

How do I answer his text? What do I say?

We’ve built what has become one of the most important friendships I’ve ever had, and now we’re going to complicate it to hell and back. I’m afraid to lose this—lose him—but I’m even more afraid not to take the next step.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I can do this. I can have it all.

At least, that’s what I’m going to tell myself.

Crossing back to my phone, I formulate a reply.

J
USTINE
: What if I didn’t get an A?

Ryker’s response is instant.

R
YKER
: Stop bullshitting me because we know that’s not possible.

J
USTINE
: Well . . .

I jump when my phone rings instead of vibrating with a text.

Ryker’s voice comes through the phone. “Tell me right now—are you having second thoughts?”

“I’m having all the thoughts. I don’t know if they’re first, second, third, or fourth.”

Silence hangs on the phone for a moment. “We made a deal.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I know.”

“I’m holding you to it.”

My eyes fly open at his adamant tone. “What if I changed my mind?”

“You didn’t.” There’s no hesitation in his reply and his words are underlined by conviction. “You want this just as much as I do. You’re just afraid to admit it.”

That’s where he’s wrong. I’m not afraid to admit it anymore. I’m just afraid of the consequences. Either way, I’m holding up my end of the bargain.

“I’ll see you at Green’s?” I say, not giving him the answer he’s looking for.

“Damn right, you will. You’re going home with me.”

“’Bye, Ryker.”

The line goes dead without him responding.

Anxiety creeps up my spine. How is tonight going to go? Merica will be here any minute to pick me up on her way home from class so we can get ready at her place. Full-on hair and makeup—the works.

I lift the costume from the hanger carefully, knowing that Ryker will be slipping it off me tonight. A riot of emotions ricochet through me.

I can do this. I can have it all
. That’s my mantra.

Let’s just hope it’s the truth.