Kade's Game (5 page)

"No.  No crazy sex sounds will be waking you in the middle of the night."

Great.  My pants tighten almost instantly the second she mentions sex.  I'm a teenager again.  Fucking perfect.

As I smile, not really meaning to, her eyes become transfixed on my lips, making my pants a hell of a lot tighter.  Why, oh why did we make zippers?

She turns and starts sipping her coffee, seeming to be as uneasy about this conversation as I am, but I refuse to let it go.  I want to know why she said it that way.  Oh... shit.  I know why.

"So, you're a virgin?" I ask, though it's more of a statement than a question.  That explains so much.

She spews and sputters her coffee everywhere, making me realize that might have been a little bold, but I can't help but be amused.  She's really cute when she's embarrassed.

I just stare with a stupid grin on my face, utterly intrigued and praying she answers.  Why does it matter?  Hell if I know.

"No," she says through a coughing, strangling fit.

She really has to elaborate, because I have to know more.  That's all there is to it.  Please, God, don't let me know anyone she's been with.

"So no boyfriend, but you're not a virgin?" I pry, unable to just drop this very inappropriate inquiry.

She won't answer.  She's too timid to answer such—

"I had a boyfriend, but we broke up."

Ah.  So vague is the direction she wants to go.  I'll play along.  I can make her tell me all I want to know, and I have to know.

"Why'd you break up?"

"Because things didn't work out. That's why most people break up."  Her tone is warning me to back off, but I've never heeded warnings.

"So you left him after he took your virginity?" I poke, hoping that's insulting enough to make her tell me who the guy is and what went on.

"No, I left him after he took my best friend's virginity."

Shit.  I'm a total jerk.

"Oh," I mouth, feeling like the world's biggest dick.  I should have dropped it.  It was clear she wanted me to, but I kept pressing.  "Sorry," I add sincerely, hoping she doesn't go back to giving me icy glares and forcing me to stay in the room on the nights she doesn't stay in hers.

She shrugs as though it's no big deal, but the regret still owns me.

"It happens.  It's not like you knew, so don't apologize for that.  If you feel a need to be remorseful, then apologize for keeping me up so many nights when I had a test the next day."

Ah, hell.  My coffee goes down hard as I strangle on it in an attempt to swallow.  Why'd she say that?

My laughter comes out after my coughing fit ends, and I do my best to rid my mind of all the images playing out like a dirty movie in my head.  My arm slides out from behind her when I'm forced angle my hips to keep her from seeing the ungodly effect she's having on me.

"What?" she asks, completely bewildered by my seemingly random reaction.  Damn, she's sweet.

"Just how exactly did I keep you up, Raya?" I tease, possibly giving her a gaze that's too hungry.  It's been too long.

It takes her a second, but when it clicks, her cheeks heat up with that pretty shade of pink I enjoy seeing on her.

"Not what I meant.  I meant your parties kept me up."

Speaking of which...

"You've never been to a party," I say, finally seeing a reason to ask the question I've wanted to for a while.  "Why?"

"Well, I wasn't invited for one, but also because I'm on scholarship.  I'm not here to play.  I'm here to change my life."

So am I, baby.  You just don't see the big picture.

"You lived next door.  An invite wasn't necessary, and I like to believe you can do both.  Partying in moderation is good for the clogged mind.  I drink, I play, and then I work just as hard.  I think tomorrow will be damn good for you."

Her expression doesn't promise that she's very excited.  Maybe there's a way to warm her up to the idea.

"What're your plans for tonight?" I ask while attempting a new sip of coffee, hoping she doesn't say anything that causes me to strangle again.

Then she has to go and stare at my mouth, making my cock battle with the unforgiving zipper.  Bastard metal teeth.

"Um... study?"  She... I think she asked that.  That means she's thinking something completely different, and I almost groan.  Maybe her looking at me like that is a bad idea.

I refuse to meet her eyes as I study the TV.  I couldn't tell you a damn thing that has been on that screen.

"Change your mind and go with me to Silk tonight.  It's a club that's only open to the public once a month.  Tonight's the 'once a month.'  It'll be packed, and it'll be fun.  No offense, but you need fun."

"I need a scholarship to stay in school, so if I go to the club and the party tomorrow, I won't have very much study time this weekend.  I need to maintain my GPA.  Maybe some other time."

Why does that disappoint me so damn badly? She's dedicated, which is something I completely respect.  She's too young to seem so mature.  But after being around her so much today, I realize Raya has a life I don't understand.  Scholarships, a need for a fresh start, and a bad breakup.  But she's still here.  And she's working for what she wants.  Impressive.  I wish I wasn't affected by that.

I need to get away from her for a while.  My proximity to her is what I'm blaming for the internal war going on inside my body.

"Fine.  Rain-check.  You ready?" I ask while standing up.

The waitress runs over to take my card as Raya starts digging in her pocket.  Like I'm going to let her pay.  That's insulting.

"I've got it," I say, not really giving her an option as the waitress takes off with my card. "I invited you."

She thinks about it for a second, seeming hesitant.  I hope she doesn't cause a scene over a cup of coffee.  Some of the guys in the corner are waving me over, but I just smile and nod in acknowledgment instead of moving toward them.  Then I make sure to toss my arm over Raya's shoulder just to drive the message through.

"Kade!" Craig yells while laughing.  "You shittin' me?"

Raya turns pale, and I try to play dumb instead of losing my temper.  I don't need her to know what's going on.

"Huh?" I ask, feigning confusion.

Craig grunts when he takes a hard elbow to the ribs by Jamie, and I offer Raya a shrug, ready to haul her ass out of there while there's a chance.  The last thing I need is her to be pissed at me for helping out.

The source of the fishy smell is tuna.  I found the cans today.  The pantry has dozens of them.  That's disgusting.

"Kade?" Mel prompts.

Ah, hell.  What'd I miss?

"Yeah?" I say, acting as though I'm distracted by the club dancers instead of tuna cans.

"We're discussing the pilot program for Brock's..."

All I hear is blah blah blah.  I just nod and pretend to be listening.  My input will have to wait until a night when I'm more focused.

The party is just getting started, but I can't seem to think about anything other than the fact Raya is at home alone.  There's really no point in me being here if I have no interest in joining the conversations being had all around me.

Dane Sterling has made his way to our table, offering me a cold greeting.  I offer him one just as cold, considering I'm not too fond of the guy.  My cousin Rain was his best friend for years, and now she shudders at the mention of his name.  There's only one reason for that, even though she won't say it.  He fucked her and fucked her over.  Point blank.

But he's a Sterling, and the Sterlings run this town, so I keep my mouth shut.  Admittedly, I'm happy when he finally leaves.  I'm not sure why he's even here.

"I'm out," I say to the guys who are just starting on their first drinks.

"Dude, you're joking," Brock scoffs, not seeming pleased with my announcement.

I toss down a few twenties to cover my untouched drink and tip.  I should have just stayed home.

"Nah.  I've got studying to do, and I'm dying for a burger."

They look at me as though I'm not really Kade, but I can't help it.  We went to dinner first, but it sucked ass.  What happened to cooking things in grease?  Why does everything have to have an itemized list of everything it
doesn't
contain?  It should just state that it doesn't have any flavor.

There are a few burger joints open, and right now I can't wait to hit one up.  I wave as I head out, turning my back on the dumbfounded table.  Yeah, I'm just as confused.

It doesn't take long to grab two burgers and some fries, and I gas it to hurry up and get home.  It shouldn't be normal to want to see someone like this.  The most we can be is friends.

Apparently I left the garage door open, saving me the time of having to raise it.  I park, get out, and hope she feels like eating with me.  I'm not sure what's going on, but I really just want to hang out with her tonight.

There's no sense of obligation.  I won't need her down the road, and there's really no reason to do this other than I just want to.  I can't remember ever just wanting to be around someone outside of my family.

The second I walk through the door, I'm greeted by a sight I've been dreading and looking forward to.  Raya is standing right in front of me
—legs bare and ass encased by only a thin shred of fabric.  My body reacts before my mind, and my pants tighten as I swallow hard.

I'm frozen in place, staring at her like I've never seen a woman in panties before.  Christ, she's driving me mad.  Shifting to accommodate the unruly appendage in my pants, my eyes come up to see the horror on her face, and that's enough to snap me out of it, making my lips twitch in amusement.

When her glass-shattering squeal rings out, my laughter breaks free before I can stop it, and I watch appreciatively as she runs up the stairs, giving me an even better show.  Sadly, I'm wishing that damn tank top hadn't been covering the top half.  Yeah, she's getting to me.

As the door slams, I continue laughing, knowing how incredibly mortified she is right now.  Time to play.  This will be weird if we don't make it funny, and it is pretty damn funny.

After dropping the burgers off in the kitchen, I take the stairs two at a time.  I make my way toward her room, unable to wipe away the shit-eating grin on my face.

"Raya," I say while snickering, rapping on her door simultaneously. "Come on.  Don't hide.  It'll only make it more awkward... for you."

I can't stop grinning.  In fact, this is the hardest I've laughed and smiled in so long.

"I'm not hiding... I'm... getting decent," she says unsurely, which makes her lie obvious, and I do all I can to quiet the riotous chuckles escaping me.

"Raya," I say again, my laughter returning against my will to restrain it.  "Come on."

She goes silent, refusing to answer me, but that won't do.  I'm not leaving here until she sees me.  Besides, I have a burger for her.

"You know it was bound to happen sooner or later.  Would it make it easier if I stripped down and let you see me in my underwear?"

She'd get an eyeful if my pants weren't restraining me right now, so she'd better say no, or she'll find out just how much she affects me.

"Raya?" I prompt, starting to worry.

"Do not strip," she says at last, and I can't help but start snickering again.

"Come out.  I grabbed some burgers.  It'll be better than the tuna you insist on eating.  The house will stink less, too."

I hate that damn smell.  I'm really glad she doesn't smell like that.  Then again, maybe I wouldn't be driving home early on a Friday night to see her if she smelled like that.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?" she asks timidly, sounding so damn hopeful, but that just makes me laugh.

What can I say to make this more fun?

"I'm only laughing because I've been expecting it.  You always ran around your house in your underwear.  Not very smart for a girl trying to lay low."

"
Please
tell me you're joking," she whimpers immediately.

"You should have bought curtains or worn shorts if you didn't want anyone to notice."

"I never thought anyone was peering through my damn windows!"

It hurts.  Damn, I've never laughed this hard.  She's killing me.

It takes a lot, and I do mean a lot, of effort, but I manage to speak.  "Seriously?  Your room was almost directly across from mine, and your bed was pressed against the window.  How was I supposed to never see you lounging around in your underwear?  Don't make it a big deal."

It takes a few seconds, but she finally opens the door, her eyes narrowing at me as I grin like a fool.

"I hate you, you know."

I can't help but snicker quietly while motioning for her to follow me.  She comes willingly, and I swear I hear her stomach growl.  Good.  I did something right.

"I'll grab some plates," I say as I head to the cabinets.  I quickly grab two clear plates, before turning back around.  She's still embarrassed.

She's staring at the bar when I put a plate in front of her.  She looks adorable in a shade of crimson blush.

"I thought you'd be at the club longer," she mumbles, frowning.

"I don't ever stay long.  It's business.  Same for my parties.  I hang out until the sobriety is gone, and then I head to my room for the rest of the night.  Everyone got drunk earlier than usual tonight."

It's the truth, well, except for the last part.  Everyone was just getting started when I left, but I refuse to tell her that.  That would just make things awkward, and I like this relaxed version of us.

"Business?" she asks, bringing her eyes up to meet mine as the blush slowly starts to slip away.

I smile while pulling the burgers out, and her eyes zero in on them like a starving woman.  I definitely did something right.  Finally.

"Yes, business.  My parties aren't for me to sow wild oats.  I have fun sometimes, and let loose, but most of the time I'm earning contacts.  Though Adam, John, Mandy, or Carla might seem like hell-raisers right now, in another few years, they'll be climbing high in whatever company they choose."

I can't believe I'm telling her this.  Only my family knows about this shit.  If she told people, they'd stop coming.  No one wants to feel like a tool.  I need to shut up.

"Pedigree rights," she says, but she has the decency to cover her mouth and look regretful.

I shrug, trying not to act offended, as I carry on about my task.  I refuse to let this night go sour just because of her feelings toward my finances.  It's obvious it bothers her, considering all her past snarky remarks.

"Pedigree sometimes plays a part.  Most of the time they're actually brilliant minds.  There aren't a whole lot of people in an Ivy League college because they're stupid, Raya.  One day, I'll need to call them, and they'll remember these years at college.  Same for them and me.  Business.  You don't get to the top by hard work and brains alone.  You play the game.  Nothing else matters if you don't play the game."

"So you play games?" she asks, making it sound a little flirty.

That shouldn't make me so damn happy.  It's much better than the bitter comment she made moments ago.

"When I have to," I say, giving her a small wink before I open the cabinet to the glasses.

"So, you came here to be close to your family and to play games with the other socialite offspring?" Nothing flirty about that tone.  Back to bitter.

I tense in front of the glasses.

"Sorry.  That came out a little... harsher than I intended," she says when I don't respond.

I slowly turn back around to meet her apologetic eyes.  It's obvious we need to address this, because I'm sick of it causing tension.  People having money is apparently an issue for her, but I'm not going to continue to take the brunt of her resentment.

"Is it just me you hate
, or all of us?"

She sighs as a touch of guilt weights her, acting as though she feels chastened, or maybe Sweet Raya is coming back out.

"I haven't had the best experience with the upper class.  Take this week for example.  Until today, most of the campus has been running their mouths about me.  The ones making my life hell weren't scholarship students."

She has no idea how pissed about that I've been, but at the same time, she's really off base with the
whole campus
thing.  So, in an effort to lighten the heavy air, my clenched jaw loosens, and I force a smile.

"There are thousands of students here.  It's college
—not high school.  Only a tenth of the population even know you exist.  Don't be so dramatic."

Her face falls.

"Well, the ten percent who know I exist seem to be everywhere."

"Still?" I ask.  How much more of a message do I need to send?  I assumed Joseph's
mangled face would have been enough of a warning for everyone to keep their mouths shut.

"No, but only because-"

"They've moved on to something juicier," I interrupt, cringing inwardly as I silently chastise myself.  I hate it when Dad cuts me off.  But I continue, since I've already done it.  "Don't treat this like high school.  It's not the same.  There's no queen, no king, and no cliques that rule it all.  People talk whether you're in school or not, but it doesn't dictate anything.  You choose how much you allow people to rule you."

Great.  I sound like Dr. Phil right now.  I just lost all my coolness.

"Was this your way of getting around my question?" she asks, biting back a grin.

She shouldn't draw my attention to her lips.  That's not nice.  Not nice at all.

"Ah, yes.  Your question.  I came here to be close to my family, as I said.  But also because this is where most of the partiers will be—rebels without a cause acting out for attention.  Believe it or not, the ones who don't end up in rehab will be some of the most successful businessmen or businesswomen in the country.  Always are.  And you build stronger bonds over beer than you do over brunch."

I'm rewarded by her laugh as I start pouring my beer into a glass, watching to make sure the foam doesn't rise too quickly.

"You want one?" I ask absently.

"Um... I'm eighteen."

"Old enough to vote and go to war, but not drink?" I ask, smiling.

"I'll take one, but you can keep the glass."

Great.  Now I'm a pompous ass pouring a beer into a glass.  Shit.  It's just a habit.  My mother would knock the hell out of me if I drank straight from the bottle.

I chuckle while shaking my head, stalling.

"I only pour it in a glass when I eat.  Less backwash," I lie, trying to save face.

Her nose wrinkles up as she says, "On second thought, I'll take the glass after all."

She bought it.  Good.  Now I don't look like such a pretentious jerk with money.  I really wish her opinion of me didn't matter.

I pour hers, showing it the same attention I gave mine, and do well to ignore her eyes on me.

"So you're twenty-one?" she asks, making casual conversation.  Progress.

"Yep.  Not far from twenty-two."

"And you're set to start work right out of school, I bet."

She's creeping back into bitter territory, but I don't think she's meaning to.  I still feel a need to defend myself.

"Yes.  Though, I doubt it's for the reasons you think.  I'm not going to deny I'm lucky, fortunate in some areas even.  Having a job lined up with my grandfather's company is one of those fortunate circumstances."