If I Can't Have You (6 page)

I want him the way Satan wants to corrupt a person of virtue. I want him like a depraved sinner kissing the feet of his savior and begging for their forgiveness.

Drake’s hand slides up my waist and I want him to touch me everywhere. He kisses my neck and I want him to kiss me like I’ve never been kissed before. I want every other kiss I’ve ever received to feel juvenile and silly. So that a brush from his lips trumps every other kiss I’ve ever received. So that he’s number one. So that his kiss matches the way I feel about him everywhere, not only in my heart.

I drop my gaze to his hands, his strong manly hands. I imagine them crawling up my skin peeling away straps from my shoulder blades, tugging on my loose clothing. His hands want me bare. His hands want to glide over my soft, smooth skin and make me shiver in delight.

Drake clears his throat and I snap out of the trance, shaking my head. Whoa. That felt way too real and I swear I’m blushing. I need that dip in the cool water now more than ever.

“Elliot starts college in the fall,” Drake tells me.

I smile at Elliot. “I know.”

Drake eyes me, confused. “Huh? How do you know?”

Elliot clears his throat and chuckles. “We sort of know each other.”

Drake’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “What? How?”

“Your brother hit me in the head with a freaking door.”

Elliot smirks. “She wasn’t watching where she was going.”

My jaw drops.
 
“No way. You are not going to blame it all on me. Let’s just say it was both of our faults.”

Drake and Elliot exchange a glance and Drake runs his hand through his golden locks. “Well, what can I say? Elliot has never been the graceful type. Or smooth with the ladies.”

Elliot scowls at Drake and the once light hearted situation has turned into a tense one. The tension swells and fills the air surrounding us and my skin prickles. I can tell that these two don’t necessarily have a great relationship and I’m guessing that maybe it has to do with a deeply rooted sibling rivalry or something. I mean I could be wrong. I don’t have any siblings so I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but Elliot is staring at Drake like he wants to murder him and his hands are balled into fists at his sides.

 
“You should talk, bro.” Elliot’s tone is icy and Drake scowls at him in return.

For a second the two of them have a stare down that’s so intense I’m not even sure if they notice that I’m still standing across from them. Drake backs down first, his matching gray-blue eyes breaking away from Elliot’s. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair again. “So the same college, huh, kid? You’ve got to be shitting me? How coincidental is that?”

I’ve always hated that expression. I frown. “No. I am not shitting you.” For some reason I always get unwanted visions of a large man sitting on his ivory throne. I shudder, trust me it’s not pleasant.

 
I point to Whitney who is still fast asleep on her towel. “My best friend Whitney and I are rooming together.”

“What dorm are you in?” Elliot asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but one of the players on the volleyball court shouts and interrupts me. “Elliot! Drake! What the hell are you guys doing? You’re holding up the whole game!”

Elliot glances over his shoulder and holds up a finger. “Guess we’d better get back.” He bounces the ball from hand to hand and walks backward toward the volleyball court. “It was nice seeing you, Robin,” he says, wearing a radiant smile. “Hopefully I’ll see you again and I promise I’ll keep any objects that I so happen to be near at the time away from your head.”

I nod and laugh. “Thanks. See you around.”

Elliot jets off toward the playing field and Drake stays behind for a second. “So.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence. I let out a nervous laugh, unsure of what to say. “So.”

Drake dips his chin and smiles, looking up at me. “My frat is throwing a party tonight. You should come.”

“I think I saw a flyer for that.”

Drake starts backing away. “It would be nice to see you there, kid.”

“Maybe you will.”

No. There’s no maybe about it. He definitely will.

~7~

When you touched me your fingers danced across my skin and at the same time, spoke to my soul.

“You hoochie!” Whit squeals as she scampers across the room with one towel wrapped around her head and another one wrapped around her body. “I can’t believe you didn’t introduce me to him!”

“You were still sleeping,” I say, trying to reason with her. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

She stands in front of the dresser, her eyes shooting daggers at me through the mirror. “For something like that, Robs, from now on, I give you full permission to wake me up.”

“I don’t see why you’re so peeved about it. You’re gonna meet him tonight anyway.”

“Yeah, but didn’t you say he has a brother?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So,” Whit scoffs. “I could have been getting my flirt on with him already in preparation for the party!”

I look away from her and groan, “I’m so sorry I put a damper in your plans for the evening.”

Sometimes Whit’s ‘I have to be privy to everything attitude’ gets on my nerves. I love her to death, but there are times where I don’t want to tell her everything. And there are moments in my life where I don’t always feel like including her. Mostly because she’s such an attention whore. I claim the title of sidekick enough. I happen to like being in the spotlight for once.

Whit frowns and pivots, walking toward me. She crouches down in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “Look, I’m sorry I got a little carried away. It’s just I’ve been hearing about Drake and seeing his pictures for years. I’m just a little disappointed that I didn’t get to meet the number one obsession in my best friend’s life.”

A demure smile spans across my lips. “I’m sure you can meet him and talk him up all you want, tonight at the party.”

Whit straightens up. “And hopefully this time, you’ll introduce me to his brother.”

“Definitely.”

****

Two hours later and Whit is still getting ready. During the school year I can’t even count how many times she’s been late when we have to go somewhere. And every time she’d always come up with a believable excuse like; my mom needed the car or she’d gotten a flat tire on the way over. But after sitting here and watching her for the last hour, I know the real reason. She’s applied the same coat of lip gloss ten times, at least.

“Are you ready yet?” I whine. I’ve been ready and waiting for her for the last hour.

Whit pouts her lips and blends her lip gloss in with her finger. “Just about.”

I’m glad I don’t like to wear a lot of make-up. It makes the whole getting ready process take ten times longer. Plus, when I do wear it, even after I wash my face I still feel like I’m wearing it.

Whit blows herself a kiss and winks at her reflection. “There. All ready.” Then she turns to face me. “Now, let’s go over the plan one more time.” I let out a frustrated grunt and Whit’s gaze hardens. “We have to go over the plan again, Robs. Like you said earlier, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Fine,” I grumble and repeat the lie Whit came up with. “We’re going to a late movie in town.” When we got back from the beach, Whit pulled out her laptop and googled the closest theater. There was one ten miles away. “It doesn’t start until almost eleven so we might not be home until after two.”

 
At first I was a little leery of the time frame, then Whit reminded me that most movies came with at least twenty minutes of previews. So if the movie started at five to eleven, it wouldn’t actually start until 11:15. The one we selected Love on the Run, lasted for two hours and twenty minutes. By the time the movie started and finished and we drove home the whole trip would last over four hours, giving us plenty of time to party.

“Very good,” Whit says wearing a devious grin. “And what will you do if your dad throws you a curveball?”

Meaning, what will I do if he throws in a random question and catches me off guard. “Call you in for back up,” I answer, warily.

I’m nervous about this plan we’ve concocted. I can’t help the terrible feeling in my gut that tells me we’ll get caught. But Whit seems to have faith in it. I’m glad she does because I think that she might have to do all of the work. I have a feeling when I get in front of my dad, I’m going to choke.

“Uh…Dad?” The words come out shaky and I swallow hard, standing in the living room, in front of my dad. He’s propped up in the reclining chair reading the newspaper. I say a silent prayer that he keeps the newspaper in front of his face. That will make this so much easier. But I’ve learned earlier on in my life that nothing ever seems to go my way.

Dad lowers the paper and smiles, admiring my attire. Wrinkles crease around his ocher eyes and he folds up the paper, setting it on the coffee table. “You look nice, sweetheart,” he tells me. “Going somewhere?”

“Um. Yeah… About that.”

Before I know it he’s tossing me the car keys and I stare at them puzzled. “Wait a sec.” I look up. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going?”

Dad picks up the paper. “Where are you going?”

“To the movies.”

He opens the paper and stares intensely at an article. “You’re not going to the movies.”

“Uh. Yes. We are.”

“Do you think I was born yesterday?”

I glance over my shoulder for Whit. I need back up like a needle needs a vein. Whit is nowhere in sight. Looks like I have to wing it. “No.”

“I know you’re going to that frat party.”

How did he find that out? Shit. Shit. Shit. “What frat party?”

“Don’t play clueless with me, Robin. I know you’re going to that party so there is no point in lying about it.”

I sigh, defeated. “How did you find out? And wait a sec…Are you saying you don’t care if we go?”

Dad peaks out from the side of the paper. “Sadie is going. We were over the Marshall’s and she was talking about it. I figured if she knew about this party, you would too.” He exhales and glances at me earnestly. “You’re a good, responsible kid, Robin. I trust you to make smart decisions. Besides, you’re eighteen years old and going off to college in a few months. I think you’ve earned a little bit of freedom, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Whit walks into the room and flashes dad her fake ‘I’m an angel’ smile. “Hey there, Mr. Mason, we—.”

“Save it, Whit,” I tell her. “It’s cool.”

Whit opens her mouth, confused, ready to remark, but shrugs instead. Car keys in my palm, we turn to walk out the door and dad shouts, “Be back at a decent hour!”

Which means don’t come staggering in past two.

“Will do!”

On the way out the door Whit grabs me by the elbow. “What was that about?”

“He knows about the party. He’s cool with it.”

“Did you choke?”

“No. I guess Sadie is going and he figured we’d heard about it too.”

“Great.” Whit rolls her eyes. “Well I think we can both agree on what to do if we see her there.”

“Yeah,” I remark. “Avoid her.”

~8~

A kiss is like a book; it can tell you a thousand
 
words, but in order to understand the true meaning of it you have to be willing to read between the lines.

~Author Unknown~

Sadie reminds me of a teenage girl version of Lucifer. She’s dressed in black mini dress with a red belt and matching six inch spike heels. I swear I can make out horns protruding through her locks of salon dye-job blond hair.

“Are we going to stand here all night or are we actually going to go to the party?” Whit comments as we linger at the end of the driveway.

After plugging in the address on the GPS the house was relatively easy to find and plus, it was smack dab in the middle of fraternity row. Large Tudor houses. Greek letters in the middle of every one.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” I let out a long ragged breath. This is only the fourth party I’ve ever been to. And to make things more nerve-racking, I have to face the fact that I’m standing on the edge of the driveway and in a few minutes I’ll enter my first college party. For someone like me who shied away from social scenes all together this is a lot to take in.

“A minute,” Whit snaps. “I’ve given you twenty.”

Before I can plead for another second, Whit grips me by the hand and practically drags me up the driveway. Beer pong tables are set up on the porch and cheers break out as a tall bulky guy lands a ball in the red cup. Groups of girls huddle in circles, chatting amongst one another, nursing beers from red cups. Several of them giggle and coyly glance over their shoulders at the boys playing beer pong.

“You made it!” shouts a deep voice over the chaotic cheering. I spin around and face Elliot who is beaming as he walks toward us.

Whit leans close to me. “Is this him?”

“The brother.”

Whit bats her eyelashes. “I like what I see.”