Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (3 page)

Sitting at my desk, I drop my face into my hands, rubbing my palms over my eyes, and think about her. Her long, wavy hair and that beautiful body I once called mine. How could I have been so stupid to give it all up for a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar with a woman that I didn’t even like? The issue isn’t whether I liked her or not, who fucking does that shit? I wasn’t raised that way; I was taught to respect women and treat them right. I guess the joke is on me because I didn’t respect Mia and I certainly didn’t treat her right. I’m not an asshole, but I know still to this very day, she believes otherwise.

I exhale loudly, reach for my phone and send her a text to let her know I’m thinking about her. I ask her to come up for a visit even though I know she won’t come. Seeing her sad only pisses me off even more.Seeing her with
him
infuriates me. I screwed up once
,
only
once
, and didn’t get a second chance. I wasn’t even given the chance to explain myself and yet, that asshole fucking broken her heart and now he gets to slide right back into her life. Karma must like him because she’s a bitch to me.

I lean back in my chair and stretch, yawning loudly after having sat all day going through a never-ending pile of papers.

“I’m leaving for the day. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?” Dana knocks on my door and leans against the door frame. Her suggestive tone hints that she’d be willing to let me fuck her on my desk, but I’m not interested. I meet her gaze. “No. I’m all set.”

“Hey. I know you’re new in town and a bunch of us are going out tonight. Want to come? It’ll be fun.”

The thought of spending another night cooped up in my tiny apartment doesn’t sound like a good idea, but mixing business with pleasure sounds like an even worse idea. “No, thanks.”

Her eyes linger for a moment on my face before she struts in and grabs a yellow Post-It from my desk. She leans over, exposing her tits while jotting down her number. Her brown eyes drag upward slowly as a sly grin plays on her lips. “In case you change your mind.”

I swallow hard as the wayward thought of screwing her enters my mind.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She’s the epitome of a workplace slut who’s probably got more STDs than should be allowed. “I won’t.”
Ever.

Surprised light brown eyes search mine for some hint that I’m joking. I’m not. I’m dead serious.

Dana stands and tilts her head. “That’s too bad.”

I wonder why she’s still here.

“Oh well, then. Enjoy yourself this weekend and I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

Without another word, she turns and leaves.

Half an hour later, another knock draws me away from my task. I look up from the notes to find Karen, the other secretary, positioned in the middle of the doorway with her purse slung diagonally across her body.

“Um…Mr. Davis, I know this may not be any of my business, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

I reach up and remove my glasses, giving her my undivided attention. There’s something comforting about her so I extend the invitation for her to come in. “Have a seat, Karen.” I gesture to one of the two chairs in front of my desk.

She shakes her head, rejecting my offer to sit. “Just be careful. She’s a nice girl for the most part, but she gets a little crazy when it comes to guys.”

I don’t need to ask to whom she’s referring. It’s pretty clear by the way Dana flaunts herself in front of me and apparently every other guy here.

“Thank you, Karen. Believe me I have no intention of getting involved with her or anyone else right now.” Although a cute, bitchy blonde with green eyes comes to mind as my hand slips beneath my desk to quiet down the beginning of yet another erection. Just thoughts of that little hot body get me going and no one has had that effect on me since Mia. I shake my head subtly, clearing my mind of the intense glare she gave me when she caught me looking at her. My eyes may have been focused on her, but my thoughts were thousands of miles away.

“That’s good. You seem like a really nice guy.” A genuine smile spreads across Karen’s round face until her lips turn down and her eyes round with concern. “I wouldn’t want you to get fired like the last guy.”

She must see the surprised look on my face.

“Who got fired?”

“The last assistant principal.”

“Really? What happened?” I ask with legitimate interest.

“He slept with her and when he tried to break things off, she accused him of sexual harassment and abuse. It was his word against hers.”

“Wow…that’s…rough.” I run my hand over my mouth and exhale loudly. The idea of a woman being violated, manhandled against her will, doesn’t sit right with me.

“Apparently that’s how she likes it.” Karen shakes her head and purses her lips before adding, “Have you seen the way she dresses?”

I’m a little surprised by her words. “What’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you think ‘No means no’?”

“Of course I do!” She backpedals as her cheeks flush pink. “It’s just that she throws herself onto every man she sees and then goes crazy when they don’t reciprocate. I wasn’t judging her.”

The stern look on my face implies otherwise.

“The last guy was a complete jerk. He cheated on his wife left and right. She finally divorced him after he got fired.”

I slip my glasses back in place just as my phone vibrates with an incoming text message from Eric.

“So just be careful, Mr. Davis.” Her tone is apologetic.

“Karen, thank you.” My voice drops to a dismissive tone. “Seriously, I appreciate the heads up.”

She smiles weakly and nods her understanding. “Well, have a nice weekend, Mr. Davis.”

“By the way, please call me Shane. Mr. Davis is my father.” I offer a grin.

Her eyes dart around as if she’s deciding what to do and then she nods quickly. “Okay, Shane. Well, have a nice weekend.” She adjusts her bag, turns and leaves.

Swiping the screen, I read the message from Eric insisting that I meet him before the game for a few drinks.I breathe slowly and roll my neck, working out the kink forming at the base from the anxiety I feel creeping in. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

When the stammering of my heart finally subsides, I grab the pen and Post-It note that has Dana’s number and print, in big block letters, “STAY AWAY FROM DANA!” I chuckle softly as I crinkle up the small paper and toss it into the wastebasket for a three pointer. I swivel around in the chair with my arms raised high above my head in victory.

Remy

WHO THE HELL
does he think he is? I poured a cup of coffee and served him a damn blueberry muffin. I hate guys like him. You know, the gorgeous, country club ones with their rich daddy’s money, coming in here, looking all Abercrombie & Fitch with that dirty blond hair and those beautiful blue eyes. I don’t need to watch him throw his money around while the rest of us bust our asses to make ends meet. It makes me sick.

“That was rude.” Jenna says as she clears away the dish, wiping in small circles to clean the counter that Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch just vacated.

“What?” I hiss. “He gave me a fifteen dollar tip, Jenna.” Disgust drips from my mouth.

“So what? It’s not like you haven’t gotten big tips before,” she smirks and widens her eyes knowingly.

“Shut up!” I whisper and roll my eyes playfully because I know she’s right. “But, this is different. He is…”

“A nice guy?” she finishes the sentence for me even though it’s not what I was going to say. Nice guys aren’t assholes who throw money around or stare at people they don’t even know.

“No!” I shriek. “Intense. I was going to say intense. I don’t know- there’s just something about him that pisses me off. Did you see how he was glaring at me like he wanted to rip my head off?”

“Sorry. I didn’t notice, but he can stare at me any day. In fact, he can stare at the back of my head as he drills me from behind.”

“Jenna!” I snort with disdain. “Is that all you ever think about?”

My best friend simply shrugs her shoulders and laughs. “Stop drinking the hatorade.”

I untie the small black apron and toss it into my backpack after cashing out for the day. “Dammit.” I glance at the clock, realizing that my chit chat with Jenna has made me run late. “I’ve got to get to class.”

“Be careful out there, girl.” Lenny says with a smile.

“Call me later. My class ends at eight.” Jenna yells as I rush by and wheel my bike out through the back door, scaring away the small rodents from their late morning snack.

I weave in and out of traffic on the busy streets of Boston, my legs pedaling hard and fast. I hate being late. It’s irresponsible and when as a child you need to be the responsible one, there is no other option. The vehicles honking at me are ignored until a yellow cab pulls up alongside me, telling me to move my ass or I deserve to get hit. I offer a mock smile, raise my hand and give him the universal sign for “fuck off” as I arrive at my destination.

My bike is secured to the metal bar, and I hope this one doesn’t get stolen like its predecessor. Why someone stole that bike was just plain ludicrous! It wasn’t anything special; it was a used ten-speed men’s bike that I picked up from a junkie who was willing to trade it for money. He wanted thirty, but I haggled him down to twenty.

“Hey, Remy,” I turn to the source of my name being called and see Simon walking in my direction. “What’s going on?” He musses my short hair as if I’m a five-year-old, leaving it sticking up in all directions.

“Dude! Chill! I hate when you do that.” I swat his hand away, matting my hair down and adjusting my backpack as we walk toward the building of graduate studies.

“Awww…here, let me fix it,” he says as he brings his hand to his mouth, licks the palm and reaches for my hair.

“Touch me and I will kill you.” I growl, slapping his hand away as I mumble that I don’t know where his hand has been.

He inhales the last of his cigarette and flicks it. I follow the butt as it lands on the freshly mowed grass. “You’re bitchy today.”

“I’m not bitchy. You know I hate when you mess with my hair. And more importantly, I’m late and I
hate
being late.” I pick up the butt and let the sarcasm drip, “Uh…I think you dropped this.”

I snap my teeth and mumble that he’s an idiot who’s going to die of lung cancer. He heckles and apparently doesn’t agree with my comment about saving the environment one cigarette butt at a time because he flicks it away again. I shake my head and walk past him.

I open the door to the lecture hall and hold it for Simon who lets it slam, causing everyone to look in our direction. My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Nice going, asshole,” I murmur as I slide into the first empty seat I find.

“When was the last time you had sex?” he asks as I unzip my backpack and take out my laptop.

“Screw you!” I shoot him a pointed look and try hard to sound offended even though I’m really not. This is Simon; a full- time friend, part-time manwhore and the closest thing I have to a brother. Sex is all he thinks about. I’m surprised his penis hasn’t shriveled up and fallen off yet from overuse. Figures I’m surrounded by sex fiends.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he sings with a chuckle, drawing out every word slowly, his head nodding slowly.

“Gross! I would never have sex with you.” I power on my laptop. “You’re practically my brother.”

Simon leans in. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

I shove him away, laughing at his craziness.

A girl from India who’s sitting in front of us whips around and asks with a discourteous snarl. “Do you two mind?”

Simon raises his eyebrows and repeats her words, mocking her heavy accent. I swear he’s a twelve-year-old in a grown man’s body.

“Some of us are trying to learn here,” she continues to rebuke us with a melodious tone.

“Sorry, Magda,” I whisper.

“Sorry my ass!” he mutters. Simon scoots forward in his seat to get close to the dark-skinned girl. “Aren’t you in the wrong class? I think the school of business is across campus.”

“Excuse me?” She looks back, clearly annoyed that he’s still talking.

“Wait! Do you really have to go to business school to learn how to manage a Dairy Mart? I thought that was in your blood.”

“Simon! Oh my God!” I smack his arm and stare in disbelief at his crass words. I am completely mortified. “I can’t believe you just said that! Apologize to her.”

The girl narrows her eyes then spits out, “You’re an asshole. You give Americans a bad name.” She gathers her backpack and Mac Book to find another seat.

“She’s right, you know.” I shake my head and blow out a deep breath. “You are an asshole.”

“Whatever. People like me make the world interesting.”

I snort. “You actually believe that?”

An “‘ahem” from the front of the lecture halls draws our attention.

I mouth an apology to my professor and look down, firing up my laptop.

Professor David Medina is my advisor and my friend. Since the day I met him, he has been incredibly kind and extremely supportive. He helped me through some formidable years. He helped me get into this program and practically forced me to apply for every scholarship possible. Finding loopholes in the system for federal grants is his specialty, especially for those students whose families’ income falls well below the poverty level. If the IRS only knew how much money my mother used to make for a few hours of work.