#Selfie (Hashtag Series Book 4) (17 page)

I knew how she felt. I was standing here because of it.

Why couldn’t I just say it?

Tell her you want her…

A little whine cut through the room. Ivy made a noise and rushed past me to scoop up the rat. “Oh, you poor thing,” she crooned. “I’ll make the bad man go away.”

I guess the bad man she was referring to was me? How original.

She turned, cradling the ball of fluff in her arms. All I saw was ears and wayward strands of hair. My heart turned over, and it scared the living shit out of me.

“What the fuck is that? Should I call an exterminator?”

She glared at me. “She’s a Chihuahua. Rimmel brought her home. Her name is Prada.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course this was my sister’s doing.

She was getting my girl all wrapped up in rescuing the helpless rats of Maryland.

I jerked.
Did I just think of Ivy as my girl?

Oh, this was bad. Very bad.

Ivy noticed my behavior, and it seemed to draw her up short.

“You’re hiding a gremlin in your room? What happens when it gets wet? This building will turn into a bad horror movie.” I was good at covering up my feelings with sarcasm.

Ivy covered the dog’s ears like it could understand my insult, and I rolled my eyes again.

“She’s just a little baby.” I watched her bend down carefully and set the dog on the ground near a bowl of dog food and a white sheet thing on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed that stuff before.

“There you go, little girl,” Ivy spoke softly, and the dog wagged her entire butt. Seriously, I had farts bigger than that thing. But damned if Ivy didn’t seem to love it. I wasn’t necessarily used to seeing her so in love with something. So in tune.

It made me jealous all over again.

Jealous of a rat.

It was a low day for me.

When she stood again, my shirt rode up on her hips, exposing more of her thigh. The need to grab her and cover her body with mine was so intense I took a step back.

“What are we doing, Braeden?” Ivy asked wearily.

“I don’t know.”

“Trent asked me out. On a date.” She was watching me, gauging my reaction.

“So?” I growled.

“So I said yes.”

She what the what?
I felt my blood start to boil. It was my normal reaction to being around Ivy too long.

“Poor guy,” I quipped. “He must be desperate.”

“Well, at least he wants more from a woman than just sex,” she retorted, but it was said without her usual heat, without any anger.

It was almost like she was just sad.

I started forward. “Ivy—”

She leapt at me, shoved at my shoulders. “Watch where you walk! You might step on Prada!”

I looked down. The dog was attacking my loose shoelace.

“Vicious,” I remarked, dry.

Ivy rolled her eyes.

“She doesn’t seem too concerned that I’m as bad as you say I am.”

Ivy straightened but didn’t step away.

“I don’t think you’re bad, Braeden,” she whispered.

I brushed the pad of my thumb across the expanse of her cheekbone. “What do you think of me, then?”

She turned her face into my touch, and I flattened my palm against her face. After a few seconds, she pulled away.

“Missy is my friend. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“What if Missy wasn’t an issue? What would you want, then?”

Ivy wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. My stomach tightened. She looked into me with those blue eyes of hers, and I saw the words in her eyes. Then I watched her bury them.

“But she is.”

Frustrated and mad, I turned away. The rat tried to chase after me to catch my shoelace.

“Prada,” Ivy called out, worry in her tone.

I stopped walking. Even though I felt like stomping out of the room, I wasn’t going to risk stepping on that damn dog.

Ivy would never forgive me. And I wasn’t a dog killer, even the ones that looked like gremlins.

“Thank you,” Ivy said and scooped up the puppy. Once I knew the dog was out of harm’s way, I stormed to the door. Ivy followed along behind me.

I turned back just to take in the sight of her in my shirt one last time.

She saw me looking. “If you give me a minute, I’ll change and you can have it back.”

I laughed.

For two reasons:

I was never gonna wear that shirt again. It was hers now. Forever.

And…

If she went to change, I’d never resist the temptation of her just steps away, naked.

I closed the distance between us in one great step. Ivy’s back went up against the wall. Prada wiggled around between us.

“I don’t want my shirt back,” I murmured. I craved her lips. Her kiss. “I want to think about you wearing it. About it touching your bare skin and covering you at night when you sleep.”

She visibly swallowed

“Tell me you’ll sleep in my shirt, Ivy.”

“What about Rimmel?”

“When no else is around. Sleep in it.” I amended and tugged the hem. My knuckles brushed against her leg.

She nodded. The dog started making a bunch of puppy sounds and reached up to lick Ivy’s chin.

She giggled, trying to steer clear of the wild licks.

The sound of her laugh squeezed my heart. The way she looked just now, with her guard down and nothing in her eyes but happiness, was so enticing.

I wanted more of this side of her. I wanted it all.

She sat Prada down, and immediately the dog took off toward her bed.

I shifted so I was just that much closer. “I don’t want you to go out with him,” I rasped, unable to not put my hand in the curve of her waist. “Don’t go out with him, Blondie.”

I know my touch was hard to resist. And I wasn’t above fighting dirty.

I just wasn’t sure what the hell I was fighting for.

Ivy glanced up at me. Her azure eyes were torn—one part desire, one part bleakness.

Before she could deny the request, I touched our lips together.

It was the softest kiss I ever gave.

She was still standing there when I slipped out the door. I leaned against it once it was closed. I didn’t know how to feel. I was in unchartered territory.

Nearby, a door opened and a girl stepped out. She seemed surprised to see me there, and we stared at each other for long moments before I recovered to give her a smile. “‘Sup,” I said and hitched my chin at her.

She smiled and headed in the opposite direction down the hall.

I pushed away from the door and left the building. I felt better knowing Trent wasn’t in there putting his damn hands all over her, and she was wearing my shirt.

But knowing that didn’t make anything better. I didn’t do relationships. I couldn’t change the fact I’d slept with Missy. And Ivy wouldn’t even tell me if any of that mattered. There was also Trent. I asked her not to date him, but she never listened to me. Trent wasn’t going to give up. I wouldn’t if I were him.

But I wasn’t him. I was me, and I had a hell of a lot more baggage than Trent ever would.

Ivy and I were better off hating each other.

Problem was it was getting harder and harder to hate her.

Ivy

He gave the kind of kisses a girl sank into.

The kind that robbed your body of gravity, robbed your mind of reason, and sent ripples into your soul. I never really thought much about a person’s soul, but recently, it was hard not to. A human body was made up of organs, muscle, and bone. Feelings were reported to the brain, which then alerted everything else about what it should feel.

But what about the soul? What about that place deep inside you, the place that couldn’t be identified on a chart or a page in a book?

It didn’t have a bone or an organ.

It didn’t have blood.

The brain couldn’t send information to a place it didn’t know was there.

So where did these feelings come from? How were they so incredibly strong?

The only thing that made sense to me was my soul.

A person’s soul went beyond chemistry and brain synapses. It went beyond controlling the human body.

I pictured it like a ghost. Almost see-through, but not quite. It took any shape, molded to any form. That’s the reason it fit so deep inside, because it could conform to any shape, any hollow place. In fact, it was hard to even know it was there, haunting you, waiting for that one person it would connect to.

I was very, very afraid the person my soul had been looking for was found.

I was very afraid it was Braeden.

I’d been wearing his shirt for weeks. No one ever knew. As soon as we got home from Florida, I washed it twice and every last trace of my blood disappeared. But he remained. The way he looked wearing it. The way I used to watch it mold to his shoulders and arms.

I always wondered if it was as soft to the touch as I imagined it to be.

The answer was yes. Infinitely yes.

The first time I slipped it on, Rimmel had been at the shelter. I’d been alone in my room. I was feeling guilty for what I did with him, but even the guilt couldn’t stop me from reliving it over and over again.

The second his shirt slid over my skin, a piece of me—a piece of my soul—relaxed. So I kept wearing it. I wore it every chance I got when I was alone.

It didn’t smell like him, but when I closed my eyes, I sometimes pretended I was in his arms.

Of course, the reality of his arms was so much better than anything I could conjure in my head. The thunderous beating of my heart when I opened the door and saw him there was unmatched. The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way he whispered my name.

My hands still trembled. It had been days.

How was I supposed to go out with Trent now? How would I convince myself if I just tried, I could push Braeden out of my head?

Even if I succeeded, he would still be inside me. In my soul.

The food court was busy today, as it always was during the lunchtime rush. I was a little late getting here after class because I stayed a few minutes after to talk to my professor about the final paper.

Missy and Rimmel were already sitting down, and they both had trays of food in front of them. As I waited in line, Romeo joined the table and sat beside Rimmel. I glanced around nervously, afraid Braeden wouldn’t be far behind.

Once I got my food (a Caesar salad with chicken and a Naked juice), I made my way to the table, not feeling too social, but prepared to fake it.

I took the seat next to Missy and greeted everyone.

“Girl, where’s the beef?” Missy teased, pointing at my tray.

“Haven’t you heard? Cows want us to eat more chikin’,” I joked, thinking of the TV commercials of cows with their misspelled signs.

Missy and Rimmel laughed, and Romeo rolled his eyes.

Truth was I wasn’t very hungry. I had too much on my mind to eat.

No one pressed about my appetite, and conversation went on to campus gossip, classes, and upcoming finals. People stopped by the table to talk to Romeo occasionally, which I didn’t mind because it kept the topic away from me.

“So…” Missy elbowed me as Romeo entertained one of his visitors. “How’d it go with Trent?”

I set my fork down and smiled. “You didn’t tell me he talked to you.”

She batted her eyes. “Who, me?”

Rimmel leaned across the table. “What’d I miss?”

“Trent asked for Missy’s approval to ask me out on a date.”

Rimmel made a squealing sound. “That is so sweet!”

Smiling, Missy nodded. Her hair was styled in loose curls and they bounced around as she moved. “I know! He said he wanted to make sure I was okay with it since Romeo tried to fix us up.”

“No, I didn’t,” he interjected and then went back to his own conversation. How he was able to pay attention to two different convos, I’ll never know.

Rimmel nodded like that was indeed what Romeo tried to do, and I giggled.

“I can’t believe he did that,” I said, thinking about the other night with Trent and the incredibly sweet way he was with me.

Why couldn’t I be all worked up over him?

“So you told him it was okay to ask out Ivy?” Rimmel asked Missy.

She nodded. “Of course. I encouraged it. I told him Ivy needed a good guy in her life.”

I picked up my juice and took a drink.

Guilt threatened to drown me.

Braeden picked that moment to show up. He dropped his tray on the table beside Romeo and across from me. Before he sat down, he reached across the table to fist bump Rimmel.

Rimmel turned back to us. “So did you say yes?”

Missy was looking at me expectantly as well.

I smiled. “Yeah, I did. He said he was gonna call me so we could go out this weekend.”

Braeden pulled out his chair a little rougher than he needed to pound it into the floor before he sat down.

Romeo’s fan club took their leave, and he turned back to the conversation as well. I hoped no one else felt the tension I suddenly did.

“Yo, man, what’s up?” Romeo said.

“Romeo,” Braeden said. Then in one sweeping look around the table, he said, “Ladies.”

I went back to playing with my salad. The pull to look at him, to take in the strong lines of his jaw, the dark hair on his head, and the way his eyes made me crave chocolate, was almost unbearable.

Because I was so lost in my own misery, it took me a minute to realize how tense Missy had become. I glanced at her. She was picking through her fruit salad with no interest.

“You okay?” I leaned over and whispered.

She smiled. “Of course.”

Was something going on between her and Braeden?

The little bit of appetite I had vanished. But this wasn’t about me.

“You still heading out of town, Rome?” Braeden asked.

“Yeah, we’re leaving later today.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, glancing at Rimmel. I didn’t know they were going anywhere.

Rimmel saw my look and shook her head. “I’m not going. Just Romeo and his dad.”

“I have some meetings with the Knights,” Romeo added.

I nodded.

“I was actually gonna talk to you about that, Ivy,” Rimmel began. “I’m gonna stay at his place while he’s gone, you know, to take care of Murphy.”

“Of course.”

“I thought maybe you’d want to stay there with me?”

I looked up, surprised. I hadn’t expected an invitation. I glanced at Romeo, trying to decide if he knew she was going to ask.

He lounged back in his seat, his arm outstretched across the back of Rimmel’s chair. He kicked up the side of his mouth. “Mi casa es su casa.”

I guess that meant he knew and he approved.

“Uhh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I just figured I would be at the dorm alone for a few days.

“I figured it would give us a break from hiding Prada in our room.”

Braeden made a scoffing sound. “That rat is still in your room?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize his mistake. I glanced at him, shocked, and hoped no one else noticed his slip.

No one was supposed to know he’d been at our room.

“You know about Prada?” Rimmel asked, leaning around Romeo to look at him.

Missy shifted in her chair and was listening intently.

I wanted to climb under the table and hide.

Braeden made a sound. “You think you can drag home another stray and Rome not tell me about it?”

Rimmel glanced at Romeo, and he shrugged. “Gotta keep my boy in the loop.”

They pounded their fists together.

I rolled my eyes and sank back in my chair, relief making me weak. Of course Romeo had told him. It’s not like it was a huge secret among our group anyway. If I had acted anymore shocked, I would have given myself away.

Stupid.

Yet I could have sworn I saw the alarm in Braeden’s eyes when he first spoke…

“Anyway, I thought it would be good for her to get out. She can play in the yard. Murphy might like the company. And you know… it’ll be fun. We can have girl time.”

I met Rimmel’s eyes. I knew why she was doing this. Yes, because of Prada but more so because of me. She didn’t want me to be alone that long. She was still worried about me.

“Girl time,” Braeden cracked. “You’re gonna need a testosterone bomb to clear out your place when you get back, Rome.”

Romeo laughed.

Rimmel looked at Missy. “You’re invited too, of course.”

Missy smiled. “I have play practice every night this week. Opening night is coming, but I can come by after and hang out?”

Missy was a drama major. She had one of the lead roles in the spring production of
A Midsummer’s Night Dream
. She was super excited, and I was so proud of her. She’d known what she wanted to do with her life ever since I met her. This was her first starring role, and I knew she was going to kick ass.

“Yes!” Rimmel smiled widely. Then she looked back at me.

I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Rimmel clapped and Romeo chuckled.

“You gonna be back in time for the scrimmage game Saturday night?” Braeden asked Romeo.

He hadn’t looked at me one time the entire lunch. I knew why, and I also thought it was better this way. I’d made myself clear the other night. There was no me and Braeden.

But it still hurt.

“You know it,” Romeo replied. “I might not be able to play, but I’ll be there.”

I made a mental note to ask Rimmel about how his arm was doing.

“What game?” Missy asked, picking up her latte and taking a sip.

Braeden glanced her way and offered her a smile. She didn’t exactly return it, but she didn’t blow him off either.

What the hell was going on between them?

I glanced at Missy and gave her a WTF look.

Everybody’s cell phones started going off. None of us reached for them right away because Romeo answered Missy.

“It’s tradition. Every year in the off-season, the Wolves get together with the university on the other side of the state. We have a scrimmage game and a big bonfire afterward.”

Braeden nodded. “It’s kind of the last thing we do as a team for the year, kind of like the sendoff for the seniors”—he nudged Romeo—“or anyone being pulled into the NFL. The team doesn’t get back together again for football until summer. Coach gives us time for finals and all that stuff.”

“Everyone at this table is invited,” Romeo said.

Rimmel bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

Romeo grabbed the edge of her chair and dragged it so it was right up against his and put his arm around her. “You’re not gonna come watch me play, smalls?”

“You probably won’t play.”

Braeden leaned around Romeo. “I will. What about your BBFL?”

Rimmel sighed. “Fine. But I’m not drinking. I think I’m still sick from last weekend.”

Missy laughed. “Too many balls.”

I giggled.

“You ladies coming?” Braeden asked. He looked at Missy and then me.