Inferno Anthology (101 page)

Baya

On Wednesday, after U.S. History and just before American Lit, Laney snags me off the lawn, and we head over to Hallowed Grounds for a cup of something hot to warm our frozen bones. It’s hardly the end of September, and already the air is crystalizing into an artic chill. The leaves have yellowed, and it’s a startling effect against the backdrop of the pale blue granite of the mountains, the supple verdant pines.

“So dish,” Laney says as we wait for our coffee. Her milky blue eyes are a stark contrast to her long, dark hair, her pale as paper skin. She’s pretty in a haunting way.

I fill her in on where I’ve been spending my nights.

“So, basically, staying with those two is like minoring in Sexology.” I twist a lock of hair around my finger while picturing a very naked, very sweaty Bryson panting over me. “Did I just make up a new major?”

“Sexology, huh? I bet you’d like to minor in Bryson Edwards.” She purrs into the idea. “I’m sort of majoring in vibrators at the moment. Did I just say that out loud? God I hate my ex.” She shakes the thought away. “Anyway, I’d help you out, but I’ve got two roommates too many at the moment. So”—she leans in and bites down over her Russian red lips—“on a scale of one to bed, how interested are you in Bryson?”

“Well—he took me to the Sky Lab last weekend.” I artfully evade the question with a fact. “That place was all stainless steel and glass. I was completely dizzy by the end of the night.” I leave out the fact it was Bryson’s kisses, the physical act of him twirling me while his tongue probed the landscape of my mouth that actually caused my head to spin.

“And?” Her pale eyes peer under her bangs, and she looks serious as shit while awaiting an answer.

“
And,
I assure you, no vibrators were harmed during the course of our evening.” The only thing vibrating against me was Bryson, and God knows he sent my insides quivering right down to my penis pocket—not that I’ve ever put anything in it that even remotely resembled a penis. “Maybe we shared a kiss.” The sweet memory of that hot exchange wafts through my mind, and my girl parts spasm just thinking about his hands roaming over me. I loved the way his embrace was gentle at times—hard and forceful at others. Who needs the battery response squad when you’ve got Bryson and his biceps to keep your vagina entertained? Not that he entertained the lower half, but still. Swear to God, if he were here my panties might spontaneously combust. Just thinking about him has me sitting in a puddle. “Okay, it may have been one,
long,
smoking hot kiss.”

“He
kissed
you?” She gives an open mouthed moan as if it were the sweetest thing. And it is because, for one, he doesn’t require double A batteries.

Once our lattes are ready, we head over to the pot-bellied stove, glowing with a crackling fire. The scent of fresh cut wood bites through the air, penetrating the thick scent of coffee, and the combination makes me heady.

A girl with long auburn hair waves a hand, and Laney speeds us in her direction.

“Baya, this is Roxy.” She nods over at the gorgeous Goth-like girl. “She hates people. Roxy—Baya.” Laney pulls out a seat, and we join her at the tiny table. Roxy has long, dark hair, more of a chestnut color with magenta highlights, and her eyes illuminate her face a lemony hazel. She’s beyond gorgeous, and a part of me wonders if she’s a tally mark on Bryson’s wall. And for that speculative reason alone, I secretly dislike her. A lot.

“I don’t hate people.” Her lips curl at the thought. “I hate people with penises.”

“Nice.” I muse. And I sort of like her better after that misanthropic comment. It takes the edge off any jealous feelings I was ready and willing to nurture.

“Roxy is the resident baker at Whitney Briggs.” Laney holds a hand out to her as if making a formal introduction. “She specializes in all things delicious, including penis cupcakes so I suggest you buddy up. This girl has the potential to keep us in cake pops for life.”

Roxy wags a finger. “I prefer the term balls on a stick. The blue ones are my favorite.” She cuts a hard look at the poor boys sitting across from us.

Okay, I like her a whole lot, now that I know she’s more into skewering Bryson’s assets than licking them. I give her a wide brimming smile.

Laney peers over the mound of books on the table. “You have anything tall, dark, and chocolate lurking on your plate?”

“Not today.” Roxy clears the area to make room for our drinks. “Besides, I have a feeling any baking I do will be few and far between this year. They remodeled the commons area over the summer and took the kitchen out in favor of a pool table. Now I’ll have to beg the caf to let me use the facility.”

“Sounds like it’s back to the Easy Bake for you.” Laney gives a brief frown.

“So, what’s new?” Roxy takes a sip of her coffee and nods into Laney.

“The drama department is putting on Les Mis, and I’m thinking about auditioning for the part of Fantine.”

“
Oh!
” Roxy’s face puckers dramatically. “Death and dying in the land of the miserable. Can we get free tickets?”

“Don’t you always?”

“That sounds like fun,” I say. Laney is so gorgeous it’s hard to believe she wouldn’t get the part. I glance back at the redhead across from me as if Roxy were coming into focus. She looks more than a little familiar. “Hey, I think you’re in my building—Prescott Hall?” I tilt into her. “You’re the one with a poster of a cat that tells me to F off on the way to my room.” Or at least it did while I was still residing at the palace of perversion, but I leave that part out.

“Correction, old room.” Laney pulls her chin back. “She’s shacking up with
Bryson Edwards
.”

Roxy looks impressed as hell as if I’ve pulled off the roommate coup of the century. “Does his harem know about this?”

“Technically, I’m crashing with my brother Cole.” I glance to Laney. “And, to be honest, I don’t really care what Bryson’s harem might think.” True story. “Bryson and I are just buddies. And I’m quoting.”

“
Ooh!
” Laney perks to life at my battle cry. “Sounds like we went from a hot kiss to cold shoulder in a single bound.” Her dark brows swoop in like bats in flight. “You know he’s a notorious playboy, right? I wouldn’t bother pining for him. A leopard like Bryson can’t change his spots for anyone.”

“Can’t or won’t?” I’m not sure which is worse.

“Both.” Laney nods as if she knows him well enough to attest to his stance on commitment.

“That’s too bad.” I twirl the warm cup in my hand. “I mean, that kiss we shared was amazing.” It was like one long strung out orgasm that’s left my entire body throbbing for the past few days.

“Kiss as in
singular
?” Laney looks suspicious. “I’ve seen that boy in action. I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Oh, it is,” I’m quick to assure her of Bryson’s tongue twisting superpowers. “After the bar closed, we indulged in one, long, never-ending kiss that greeted the sun when it finally showed up. We sat right there in that parking lot for hours. It was magic.”

“Oh, hon”—Laney grimaces into the thought—“there’s a lot of false magic in the parking lot of a bar at three in the morning.” She says it with a heavy heart as if she knew firsthand. “He was probably feeling you out to see if he was about to get lucky.”

“And I would have happily let him.” I take a careful sip of my coffee as an image of me sitting naked on the hood of his truck blips through my mind. The list of things we could have done in that parking lot is endless. “But, the truth is, that kiss was sort of hard won. I practically had to beg. I guess he’s just not that into me.”

Laney and Roxy exchange looks before breaking out in a laugh.

“Have you
seen
yourself?” Laney’s eyes expand like silver dollars. “You’re a freaking brunette version of Barbie. Half the girls in Prescott Hall breathed a sigh of relief last weekend because they can finally bring their boyfriends around again.”

“Yeah, right.” I glance at the ceiling. “Half the girls at Prescott couldn’t pick me out of a line up.”

“Laney’s right.” Roxy leans in. “I’d question if Bryson’s dick were in working order if he wasn’t into you. Besides, I’ve seen the skanks he’s bedded, and trust me it’s not an impressive list. You’re like the Holy Grail compared to the slut spectacular he’s been starring in for years. Of course, he’d want you.”

“I’d like to think so, but a part a me just doesn’t believe it’s true.”

A blonde in skin-tight jeans and tall furry boots saunters in. She’s got on a giant fuzzy hat that looks as if she shoved a rabbit’s ass over her head and a tiny silk scarf sits neat around her neck like a choker. I recognize her from our bizarre early morning encounter the other day—Bryson’s latest not-so-greatest bed buddy, Jules.

“Speaking of skanks he’s bedded,” I whisper as she speeds on over.

“
Saya
?” Her dark eyes round out as she narrows in on me. Her sickly sweet perfume clots up the air, dowsing all the oxygen out of the room.

“Baya,” I correct.

“I don’t really care what your name is.” Her jaw clenches, and her entire head shakes like she’s eighty. “You missed the first day of rush and made me look like an a-s-s. Do you want in at Alpha Chi or not?”

“
Y-e-s
.” The thought of witnessing the parade of tramps walk in and out of my brother’s bedroom all semester makes my stomach turn. Not to mention the vocal effects that have seeped into my nightmares. The
oohs
, the
ahhs
, the
right
there
,
faster
,
please
and
thank
you
, and my all-time favorite
fuck me like a roadside bitch
. And don’t even get me started on the screams and giggles, the moans and groans. I’ve dreamed of dying barn animals for three nights in a row. Thank God Bryson’s penis has voluntarily issued a cease and desist order to females everywhere while I’m squatting on their couch, or I’d literally go insane.

Jules sharpens her chocolate chip eyes at me. “The next meeting is Saturday night at nine. Don’t
even
think of missing it. Alpha Chi needs you, and an Alpha never lets her sisters down.” She turns on her fuzzy heels and makes a beeline out the door.

“Alpha Chi
needs
you,
Saya
” Laney mocks. “For the record, Jules Flannery is a j-o-k-e. I may have to disown you if you cross over to the dark side.”

“Bryson didn’t seem to think she was a j-o-k-e when she tumbled out of his b-e-d.” I chew on the inside of my cheek as an image of the two of them mattress dancing clouds my mind. “Anyway, she had it backward,
I
need
them
. My roommate at Prescott is having marathon sex with real live human vibrators, and I can’t get any work done with all that grunting—her hairy ass suitors
waving
at me while she bounces on their laps. We’re talking serious trampoline action—emphasis on the tramp.”

Laney and Roxy laugh until tears roll down their cheeks. It’s nice to know they’re easily entertained.

“I would have paid to see your face!” Roxy mimics the douchebag waving.

“Believe me, it’s not worth the price of admission,” I lament. “Besides, she’s been nothing but inconsiderate—even
he
took a little time out of the thigh thumping to acknowledge my presence. She hasn’t bothered to say good morning
once
—well, at least not with her lips. I’ve sort of made friends with the Pointer Sisters—Thing One and Thing Two. They’re more than friendly with me.”

Roxy lights up the place with a high-pitched cackle.

Laney leans in with an incredulous look on her face. “You
named
them?”

“I had to. It was getting lonely, and it was like they’re always trying to get my attention. They’re like two bloated puppies, happy to see me.”

Laney joins Roxy in the laugh fest once again, and any moment now I expect a puddle of urine to form around them.

I guess I could see why they find my relationship with another girl’s boobs slightly amusing, only I don’t feel like doubling over and slapping the table silly at the moment. The only thing I feel like slapping silly is Jeanie.

“
Baya
.” Laney dabs the tears from her eyes with her pinkies. “I can see why you’ve lost your mind and think Alpha Chi is some kind of Godsend, but it’s like six blocks from
Bryson
. If you want to land Edwards, you need to keep in close proximity to him and his penis. I think you should thank the Pointer Sisters for putting you in a prime position.”

“I totally agree.” Roxy shakes her head emphatically. “I mean, think of the possibilities involved when taking up the same living space. Have you had an ‘accidental’ run-in after a shower?”

“No.” Although the thought of a dripping wet Bryson makes my mouth water. I can see his rippling chest with water beading over it, slowly running tracks to the defined V just above his forbidden forest of pleasure while he precariously holds his towel just before it drops to his feet.

I catch a breath.

Laney shakes her head. “Any late night chats by the fire?”

“They don’t have a fireplace,” I’m quick to point out. “Besides he’ll get sick of me if I stay there forever. It’ll take away the air of mystery we’ve got going.” I reflect on this for a moment. “A little too much mystery if you ask me. Personally I’d like to see his Hardy boys solve a few mysteries with my Nancy Drew.”

“Very funny but you’re getting bogged down with details.” Laney snips. “I think the problem here is he sees you as his best friend’s little sister. You need to cure him of that and fast.”

“Little sister syndrome.” Roxy nods into this as if it were a real disorder. “You’d better step up your game. That’s a hard one to break.”

“Step up my game,” I repeat.

“Less clothes, more talking,” Laney says it stern, like an order. “Sexy talking.”

“It’s called
flirting
.” Roxy over annunciates as if I were from another planet and right about now it feels like it. The planet Pluto to be exact which, ironically, the solar system relegated to little sister status not too long ago. I can see myself now on the lunar-like landscape sitting in a pile of rainbow-colored vibrators. God knows there aren’t enough batteries in the universe to quench this ache Bryson has set off deep inside me.