Poison Me Sweetly (4 page)

Someone's snoring softly in my bed.

My first thought is
not again.
I might be a bit
promiscuous, but I don't do back to back one-
nighters
.
But then I smell Jeremy's cologne, and I recognize the soft, barely there snore
that is coming from the opposite side of the bed. I've woken up beside Jeremy
enough times to recognize the sounds he makes while he sleeps.

I yawn widely, and my jaw practically cracks as I
stretch. I note I'm still wearing my tank and
capri's
from last night, so I know we hadn't had sex.
I try to remember climbing in bed with him, but I draw a complete blank. The
last thing I remember is curling up into his side on the couch as we watched a
movie on my laptop. I must have fallen asleep, and he'd carried me to bed and
decided to spend the night. This wouldn't be the first time I've been carried
to bed. I've crashed next door numerous times, then found myself in one of the
guys' beds the following morning, because they'd been too lazy to bring me back
to my own place. At least this morning I'm in my own bed, because I have Speech
at eight.

Speaking of...

I turn on my side and peer blearily at my alarm clock.
My eyes widen. It's going on seven-thirty. Dang it! Mornings suck. Especially
when I have to haul ass to class. With a muttered curse, I glance at Jeremy.
He's sleeping on his side, his tanned back facing me. He'd stripped off his
shirt sometime last night, but he’s still wearing jeans.

I'm about to reach out and shake his shoulder before I
think better of it. I don't have time to mess around, but it's too tempting,
and he's set himself up for it. With a wide grin, I carefully move so that I
can brace my body against the wrought iron headboard of my bed. My body is
diagonal from where he lies, and my bare feet gently rest against his smooth
back. My knees are bent up, and I bite my lip with anticipation. It's times
like this that I enjoy the guys. I have a bit of a mischievous streak, and I
certainly never want to become predictable. Besides, I have a reputation to
live up to. If I'm going to be a bitch, I might as well work at it, right?

My knees tense, then I shove my feet into his back as
hard as I can. Jeremy's unprepared body is shoved right off the edge of the
bed. There's a loud
thud
while a string of masculine curses rents the
air from behind the bed where I can no longer see him. I double over laughing
hysterically. It's unfortunate that I hadn't been able to see the look on his
face as he hit the floor.

Jeremy abruptly rises to his feet, eyes gleaming as he
bends and grips the bottom of the mattress. My eyes widen with alarm as he uses
those muscles of his to upend the entire mattress, dumping me off it, my limbs
flailing as I land in an unceremonious heap the floor. My butt smarts
painfully, and I look up to meet Jeremy's gaze. He's still standing beside the
bed after setting the mattress back down. “Brat,” he says, but I can tell he’s
enjoying our little morning fight.

I grab the nearest high heel, which has tiny spikes on
the sides and heave it at him. “Dickhead.”

He knocks it out of the way before it can nail him in
the head and launches himself over the mattress at me. I let out a shriek as I
scramble to my feet, racing out of the bedroom and down the hall. I don't know
where the hell I think I'm going to go, because the apartment is tiny, but when
Jeremy comes after me, I usually run for dear life.

He tackles me in the living room, and I go down hard
as I land on my stomach, my face slamming into the floor—making my chin smart.
Thank God it's not hard wood, or I'd be in a world of hurt. I try to scramble
out from under Jeremy's large body, but his strong hands grasp me around the
hips and he leans off me to physically turn me over, effectively pinning me to
the floor. Now I am facing him, arms pinned above my head. His dark hair is
mussed, and his brown eyes are laughing at me. “Say mercy.”

I scowl up at him, because I never admit defeat. “Bite
me.”

His eyebrows rise. “Just how kinky are you getting on
us,
Zo
? First the handcuffs, now biting?”

“Ha-ha!” I grumble as I try to wiggle out from under
him. “I have class in less than thirty minutes, dumbass. Get off.”

“You started it,” he says calmly as he keeps my arms pinned
above my head with one hand while his other rests near my hip.

“It's your own fault. I've told you guys never to
expect any predictability out of me.”

“Yield.”

“No.”

He grins. “I was hoping you'd say that.” His free hand
yanks my shirt up to my ribs, and his fingers attack my sides. I start to
shriek and laugh as I buck beneath him. Dang my ticklishness! The guys never
hesitate to take advantage of it. “Say it!” Jeremy orders.

“
Arrgh
! Fine! I yield!” I
yell while struggling not to giggle. He releases me and rises to his feet,
holding out a hand. With a roll of my eyes, I accept it and he helps me up. I
adjust my shirt and glance at him. He's smiling, and I can't resist the
answering tug on my lips. My mood is light, and I playfully shove him aside as I
walk past him towards the bathroom.

When I exit the Design Building on campus later that
day, my mind is distracted. I mentally try to coax some excitement to surface
over the residential project I'm working on for one of my classes.

I happen to spy Ace leaning against the building,
evidently waiting on me, and I’m startled out of my earlier thoughts.
Everything from class fades from my mind as I approach him. If he's waiting on
me, this can only mean he's up to something. Usually, I meet up with the group
whenever I come across them on campus. Ace will rarely search me out.

“Hey,” I greet as I walk over.

He adjusts his backpack over his shoulder as he
straightens, then slips an arm around me and leads me away from the building.
“Handcuff anyone lately?” he teases.

“That's all you've got? I'm disappointed,” I muse as
we walk. I'm guessing we're headed toward the Central Quad, one of our usual
group hangouts.

“Next thing I know, you'll be asking after paddles and
riding crops.” He gives me a lascivious look. “I'd be happy to break you in.” I
snort and he chuckles. “I heard you and Jeremy going at it this morning. Lots
of thuds were coming from your place while I was making breakfast.”

Thankfully, the apartments are designed so that the
bedrooms share a wall with the next unit's kitchen and living room. It would
really bite to have to listen to someone else's bedroom antics through the
walls of your bedroom. I shake my head and dodge a guy on a bicycle. “We didn't
have sex. Just a little morning wrestling, is all.”

“If that's what you want to call it.”

I don't bother to correct him since I don't really
care what he thinks. Jeremy and I have hooked up before, but we haven't in
quite some time. I shy away from sleeping with someone on a regular basis. It's
my way of avoiding getting close to anyone. Jeremy knows this, and once in a
while we'll have sex if we're in the mood, but otherwise, we keep it platonic.

As we walk, most of the females we pass make it a
point to smile flirtatiously at Ace while point blank ignoring me. I don't
care. I don't do friendship, and I don't blame the other girls for being leery
of me. I think they think I'm going to come after their guys, but that's a rule
I never, ever break. I have the reputation as a slut, because I don't hide from
the fact that I enjoy sex. I think it's stupid that guys can get away with
sleeping around, but we girls get called out for it. Whatever. Like I said, I'm
not here to make friends.

A feminine voice calls Ace’s name, and he releases me
as a redhead flings herself at him.

I smirk to myself as I ignore them and keep walking
towards the quad, leaving Ace behind to deal with her. The women on campus will
never learn. Ace is just as bad as I am. He'll sleep with someone once, maybe
twice if she's lucky, and then they are forever marked off his 'to-do' list.
It's entertaining to me how many women think they can change Ace's mind, and be
the 'one' that'll keep his attention longer than just a few quick nights of
passion. They're fooling themselves. I think the only one he's ever gone back
to more than twice is Bev, but that's because she's a part of the guys'
extended group of friends. Plus, Bev knows the deal, and she can handle it.
She's not dumb enough to fall for Ace.

I'm almost to the heart of the campus when Ace catches
up to me. The quad is crowded, and I spot our usual group sitting on the grass
by a tree. I glance at Ace with amusement. “Jeremy said you were
slummin
' last night.”

Ace looks at me questioningly. “Slumming?”

“Said you didn't have the usual type over.”

“Ah,” Ace says as a wicked smile curves his lips. “I
wouldn't call her slumming. She was actually pretty hot.”

I shake my head and walk across the grass, moving
closer to the group lounging near the tree. “Someday, you're going to fall for
the kind of girl that you wouldn't be caught dead going near,” I tease.

My amusement fades as I spy Caleb with the group. It
takes me a quick second to drink in the sight of him. He's laughing at
something Dillon is saying, and he looks relaxed. It's hard to take him in, all
those long lean lines of his
body, that
gorgeous face
with those strong cheek bones and those sexy eyes, and it doesn’t help that I
know what lies beneath those clothes. I shut down my perusal and keep my face
relaxed and bored as we walk up.

Jake, the most annoying out of the group, is lounging
on the grass shirtless. His expression stating that he thinks he’s hot, and
he's enjoying flaunting it. Jeremy looks up and smiles easily at us. “Hey,” he
greets.

I sit down next to him. “Hey.”

“Hey, Zoey. I got some cuffs back at my place if you
wanna
try them out. I'll even toss in some whip cream,”
Jake calls out to me.

Without glancing at him, I lift my hand and flip him
off. Ace and his big fucking mouth.

“Here.” A paper bag is tossed in my lap as Ace sinks
down in the grass near me.

I sigh and look down at the bag in my lap without
opening it. I know whatever is in it is going to be a joke. Ace doesn't buy
anything for me unless it's a gag gift.

Bev snickers as she tucks a lock of black hair behind
her ear, her hazel eyes amused. “I can guess what's in the bag.”

“Me too,” I say dryly as I open the bag and pull out
the brand new pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs. I roll my eyes at Ace. “Really?
That's the best you could come up with?”

Mischief flickers in his gaze as he says, “I gave the
key to Caleb. Just in case.”

That has my eyes automatically shifting to Caleb. His
eyes connect with mine, and his lips curve up in a lazy smile. Without a word,
he pulls a small key out of his pocket and tosses it at me. I instinctively
catch it, slipping the key in the bag before bundling it up and tossing it at
him. He catches it and quirks an eyebrow at me. I smile sweetly. “I'm not the
one who was willingly cuffed to a bed. You can have them for the next time you
feel like being the submissive.”

Instead of being irritated, a smoldering grin spreads
across his face. “I'll keep them close for the next time you're hammered.”

My eyebrows arch. “Confident much?” I'm aware of the
others watching our banter.

“It's only a matter of time before we're back where we
were yesterday. I don't plan on being the one wearing the cuffs, though,” he
drawls, his voice sounding like warm honey.

The way he says it has my gut tightening and heat spreading
down south. How can this guy have such an effect on me? I open my mouth to snap
a retort when my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. The second I see
Grendel's number, I grab my backpack and rise to my feet without a word to the
others. I sling the bag over my shoulder and walk away. “Hello?”

“Zoey,
it's
Duff,” says the
manager of Grendel's. “We're shorthanded tonight, think you could pull an extra
shift this week?”

“Sure. Oh—wait, I can't. I have a lecture tonight on
campus to attend. I'm sorry, Duff.”

“Nah, don't worry about it. See you Wednesday.”

I disconnect the call and tuck my phone in my pocket.
I decide I'd rather not go back to the group, so instead, I make my way towards
Lot 11B where I'd parked today. As I walk towards my car, my eyes land on the
license plate. POISONU. There's no fighting back the smile stretching across my
lips as I unlock the car. I'd changed my license plate six months ago on a
whim. The guys have playfully nicknamed me ‘Poison’ after a huge blow out I'd
had with Ace last year. Ace had told me then that I had a viper's tongue, and
verbal poison spews from my mouth when I'm angry. Next thing I know, they're
joking around and saying, “Oh, here comes Poison!” when I get riled up and
pissed at one of them.

My head shakes as I climb in the driver's seat of the
sports car. They know me too well to take my shit seriously anymore. Ace,
Jeremy, and AJ are so used to my moody antics that sometimes it scares me how
well they've gotten to know me. Since my thoughts are drifting in a dangerous
direction, I shut them down abruptly.

I start the car up and carefully back the Camaro out
of the parking space and out of the parking lot. As I drive the short distance
back to the apartment complex, my thoughts shift to Caleb. Dang that man and
his accent. It turns me on and that irks me. The man is bad news. He's too laid
back, too...easy to want to be with. Nothing much seems to faze him unless he's
about to piss himself.

I can't help but laugh softly as I flick on my blinker
to turn into the parking lot at the complex. I will never forget the other
morning, that's for sure. His suggestive comment about handcuffing me comes
back to me, and I shake my head as I turn off the ignition after parking the
car. “In your dreams,” I mutter. The day I give up control will be the day pigs
fly.

I make my way inside the large building, and as I walk
to my apartment door, I decide I'm in need of a good run. I can feel the
tension beginning to develop in my shoulders. Not surprising. I have my highs and
lows. This weekend hadn't been too bad—even with the handcuff fiasco—and after
this morning's playful antics with Jeremy, I knew the pleasant high would fade
and something much darker would begin to set in eventually.

Running will help. It’ll relax my mind as I listen to
my iPod while pushing my body to its limit. As soon as I open the apartment
door and step inside, the hollowness of it assaults me, causing my body to
tense and my breath to hitch. It's impossible to fight the thoughts and
emotions that crash into me as I stare at the emptiness of the room before me.

A broken laugh escapes me as I lean against the now
closed door behind my back. During the day, I take courses at the university so
I can get a BA in Fine Arts to become an interior designer. It's a life I've
always wanted.

Now it's meaningless.

My eyes close as my head weakly falls back against the
door, and I am unable to control the direction my thoughts are taking me.
Decorating has always been a beloved hobby. I'd redecorated my bedroom every
six months back in high school because my tastes had changed constantly. When I
was sixteen, my mom decided it was time to redecorate our living room. She'd
handed over the reins of control to me, trusting me implicitly to come up with
a new room décor that the entire family would love. That led me to redecorating
the entire house. My parents had supported my dream of interior
decorating—still do—since they are paying for me to attend CSULB.

Tears clog my throat, and I angrily wipe at them
before opening my eyes. But the second they land on the bareness of the
apartment, I feel bitterness washing over me. This place should be filled with
Micah's things, like his posters, his car magazines, and his dragon statues
he'd liked to collect. I should be tripping over his shoes when I walk in the
door, or be yelling at him for having friends over when I want peace and quiet
so I can study. He should be here like we'd planned. We both should be
attending CSULB.

Instead, I am here all alone.

Everyone's abandoned me.

Micah.

My parents.

“No!” I cry out fiercely as I shove off the door and
hurry towards my bedroom. I struggle to push everything I'm feeling aside. I
need to turn it off. I can't let it in. I have the lecture at the Design
Department Gallery to attend tonight.

I can't break down.

Not now.

I'll be fine. I just need to run for a while. My
clothes are hastily stripped off, and I quickly yank on a sports bra and
running shorts. I sit briefly on the bed, which is still slanted a bit crookedly
thanks to Jeremy, and slip on socks and running shoes. I rise to my feet, pull
my hair up into a haphazard ponytail, grab my iPod, and hurry down the hall.
I'm anxious to escape the apartment and the memories that want to assault me.

I stop in my tracks as I enter the living room. My
brother—my dead twin brother—is sitting on the couch, his brown eyes that are
so like my own are staring back at me with a solemnness that makes my heart
ache. It clenches so painfully that I'm surprised I'm not being gripped by a
heart attack or stroke. He stares at me, his eyes watching my every move.

I can't breathe.

I stare at him. Not moving. Chest not rising. I'm
still as a statue as my eyes take him in almost desperately. He looks exactly
the same as I remember. He hasn't aged a bit, forever and always seventeen in
my mind. His dark brown hair is slightly on the long side, and I've always
loved how it curls over his ears, giving him an adorably scruffy look that the
girls in school hadn't been able to resist.

My eyes drift to his clothes. He's still wearing the
same exact pair of jeans and the white polo that he'd worn...that night. Only
it’s
bright white, not soaked red from his blood. He always
looks this way when he appears to me. He looks whole and healthy. He's my
brother, but I can't touch him or hug him. I can't beg him to come back to me.
I can't change a damn thing. All I can do is suffer this life I live...without
him.

“Breathe, Zoey,” he tells me softly, his eyes cloudy
now as he watches my mental struggle. I hadn't realized my lungs were screaming
for oxygen. I draw in a deep breath, only to choke on a sob that escapes the
same time I try to pull in air. Micah's face twists with pain. “I know you miss
me. I miss you, too. So much. You have no idea, Zoey. But you can't do this to
yourself anymore,” he says as he looks around the bare apartment,
disappointment evident on his face.