True North Book 3 - Finding Now Kate and Sam (11 page)

BOOK: True North Book 3 - Finding Now Kate and Sam
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“I don’t play unplugged for just anyone, and I’ve never, never dedicated a song to a woman before,” he qualified.

I wanted him to hold me in his gravity, but I was caught between panics—panic that he would and panic that he wouldn’t.

“Please don’t run away again,” he said gently, as if he could sense my timidity.

I shook my head.
I’ll try not to …

“Can we be friends?” He offered me his hand. 

“My heart’s been annihilated, Sam, and you’re only going to make it worse.”

“No, no way,” he said confidently. “I’m going to heal it.”

I closed my eyes and felt my universe shift into his orbit as he took my hand and held it.

“Can I take you home tonight after the show? The last set ends at ten.”

“Okay, I’d like that.” Even if was just for tonight.

Chapter Nine

“Paralyzer”

Finger Eleven

 

Sam

(One Week Ago)

 

              “Dude!” Will interrupted me. “That’s like the tenth time you’ve mentioned your professor in this fifteen minute phone call. She’s a
professor.
Do you really think you have a shot?”

“What?” He’d caught me off guard. “No! It’s nothing like that.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an idiot,” I retorted.

“Whatever.” Will didn’t seem to care. “Are you still going to the house party you were talking about?”

“Hell, yeah! It’s going to be great. I’m pulling in now. Hey, parking is a cluster fuck, I’ll talk to you later.” I pulled my black, recent model Charger through the parking lot next to the student housing duplex. She was my second vessel. Between getting caught overnight with Ms. Jolie, forcing me to leave my Lady vulnerable in the parking lot, and a rash of vehicle vandalizations—I’d flip my shit if some dumb fuck messed her up—I decided to store her until my next racing gig. Here, the cars were so jammed into the lot and on the street that people started parking up over the curb and on the grass.

No way was I stupid enough to park where I’d get shut in and blocked or fucking ticketed or towed, so I parked over on another street and walked over.

Frigging, Jolie!
I had called and texted her every other day all week, trying to see if she was alright. She hadn’t showed up to class, and I found out that even though we were only at the beginning of the year she took a sick leave for a week. Ironically, she claimed to have the flu. By Wednesday I was actually fucking sick worrying about her. I thought about just showing up at her place, but that was way too intrusive—I didn’t need her to think I was a stalker. So, I got the idea to send her flowers—daisies—and made sure that she had to sign for them so I could verify that she was still alive.

No thanks, no call back, no text. I mean, really, was it that hard to reciprocate?!

Fuck that shit. It was Thursday, the music was cranking and as I came across the lawn, AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” started up.

Perfect fucking entrance music!
I bounded up the porch steps to the opened front door and the cheers went up.

“SAM, SAM, SAM, SAM …” I lifted my arms over my head toward the ceiling and gave back a welcoming howl! A brunette I didn’t recognize in a hot, skin tight miniskirt came over, smiling seductively, and pushed a large, blue plastic disposable cup filled with beer into my hand, which I ceremonially chugged. The screams and cheers exploded, and I bowed ever so royally to my loyal subjects. I fucking loved university life!

I grabbed a handful of the girl’s long hair and pulled her lips to my mouth, sharing the taste of the beer. “Thanks, baby.”

“Anytime, Sam,” she crooned. “I’ll be here all night, and my place is right down the street if you feel like disappearing for a while.”

I smiled at the invitation. Hell, yeah! Having one of the hottest bands in Seattle and smoothly handling a race car lit to nearly 200 MPH had a tendency to turn women on. I didn’t even know her fucking name.

“Sounds like an invitation that’s too hard to refuse.”
Or would make
me
too hard to refuse.
I smiled back.

“Anytime.” She threw her hair over her shoulder as she turned on her heel and looked back at me with bedroom eyes.

I winked at her then joined the festivities. Noah and Lucas caught up with me, slapping me on the back, and immediately started talking about how Chasing North was kick-ass at The Highline, and how psyched they were to play the Fenix Underground, and if I’d thought more on the subject of touring.

“Will you guys fucking chill? It’s a party!” I reminded them.

I looked around. Noah and Lucas had rented the duplex together with another student named Chris. Lucas had hired a DJ, and a few girls were dancing. In the middle of the living room two blue futon style couches faced each other, and in the center was a makeshift bar. A coffee table and two end tables were pushed together, and a tapped keg sat on the middle of the table, with stacks of cups to the side. There were ten different bottles of booze, a plastic bucket filled with ice with a steel ladle hanging off the side for scooping, and on the floor next to it was a cooler filled with wine coolers and different flavored sodas. They had two plasma screens in the room, one on each far wall. On one, a muted MTV showed music videos, and on the other side a bunch of gamers played Grand Theft Auto while spectators watched.

The house lights were dimmed, so between the game and videos from the two different screens the fluctuating colored lights bounced off the walls and the people, giving the place a psychedelic glow.

I poured myself a second full cup of beer, cleaned a shot glass with the side of my t-shirt and dropped a shot of Jim Beam into my cup, creating a boiler maker. I pulled it down fast and, when I dropped the cup, spotted ‘Sexy Lexy’ Bordeau. She just happened to be in two of my classes this year. She was a cool fucking drink, but I
could
think beyond my dick and knew I’d have to be in those classes with her all semester. I didn’t want to deal with the drama that could produce. No way.

Then a thought flashed through my head. If I slept with Lexy, how could I face Jolie in class again? I had a feeling she’d be able to see right through me. She was the most intelligent woman I’d ever met.

What the fuck?
Who cared if Jolie disapproved?
What was that thought about?
I took a walk by the teams playing beer pong on the dining room table.

I saw Lexy coming towards me and acted fast, slipping downstairs to the basement to avoid her. Down here people were shooting pool, playing foosball and in the corner, a game of strip poker was happening with four gutsy girls and two overly excited guys who were totally blowing it because they were thinking with the wrong head. They already had every article of clothing off except their jeans. Idiots.

“Hey, North!” Brandon, the card dealer who I knew from a class last year, called me over. “We’ve got an extra seat. Want me to deal you in?”

I felt the smile pull across my face. “Bet your ass.”

The girls were trying to be strategic by starting with the non-essentials like shoes and socks, but two girls were down to undies and t-shirts. When I sat at the table, I realized they also had their bras off and in the pile. They must have thought they were being tricky by taking off their bras under their shirts before they lost them. Maybe they thought they’d get an edge before that happened.

Not if I played.

Brandon dealt me in, and I winked at the sweet blonde I’d sat next to, imagining her without the tight pink almost see-through t-shirt that was stretched over her chest. Her nipples poked up into the fabric, just begging to be pinched.

I forced myself to look away and at my hand. Ah, North luck. I could always rely on it. A four of a kind. Oh yeah, that little shirt was coming off.

A few of the guys who’d been playing pool peered over my shoulder, saw my hand and thought they’d come a little closer to watch the show.

I had that top of the world feeling. More hero worship from the guys losing their game and the dudes behind me watching, salivating. And the way the blonde was eyeing me, she looked excited to show me the rack under the cover.

Then I spotted Jackson by the foosball table, smiling at our goings-on in the poker corner. Jackson would definitely brag about this tomorrow, it would be big news—the blonde was a popular cheerleader. That feeling of dread, like something very bad was about to happen, dropped into the pit of my stomach.

The girls were looking nervously at the cards in their hands, while the guys wore an
I’m-fucked
expression. So what was it?

I groaned when the revelation hit me. “Sorry, guys.”

I folded.

The guys cursed while the girls cheered and slammed them. While the good ole boys were taking off their pants and the girls were giggling, heady at their unexpected triumph, I stood up and took off back upstairs.

I pushed through the crowd to find that pretty little tart who’d lip-locked me when I first came in. It took a few minutes, but I found her dancing with two other girls. Now that could be fun to watch, but I had an agenda. I came up behind her and tapped on her shoulder. She turned, saw me and smiled.

“I was hoping you’d come back,” she said.

I gently stroked her soft shoulder and bent enough to whisper in her ear. “Where do I know you from?”

She smiled. “I was at the concert.”

“Who invited you?” I asked.

“A couple of my girlfriends who heard about it through your band’s drummer.”

“So you don’t go to school at U of W?” I verified.

“Nope.”

I took her up on her invitation. “You said your place was nearby. Do you want to disappear?”

“With you? Definitely.” She took my hand mid-song, grabbed her jacket and bag from out of the closet, and we walked out into the night.

 

She drove us to her place.

“I share an apartment with my friend Tracy but she’s back at the party, so we have the place all to ourselves,” she explained.

“Perfect.”

The second she got the door open, I had her pushed up against the wall as I kicked the door closed. Usually I’m slow in the foreplay department, but tonight my sex wasn’t even for pleasure, it was to prove something.

What the fuck!?
I had this gorgeous creature in the palms of my hands, literally, and the only thing I was trying to do was prove to myself I wasn’t obsessing over my professor!

NOT
fucking cool! The entire night had been about her, from Will’s phone call, to not wanting anyone from the party reporting back to her about seeing me do anything with any
other
woman.

What was that?
Was Will right? Was it because I wanted her?

No, I didn’t want women. Women wanted me.

I licked up the side of the cute brunette’s neck, while my thumb and forefinger found her nipple and gave it a tug. She moaned, and I pressed my hardening dick into the softness of her soft belly, showing her I was ready. She took my hand and brought me into her bedroom. We stripped down and, after I rolled a condom on, I threw her onto the bed and fucked her nice and hard until she was coming noisily beneath me.

It was then that I knew there was no point in trying to fool myself anymore, because the entire time I was having more than satisfying hot sex with this girl, I was thinking of only one woman—Catherine Jolie.

 

“Jake, man I need some advice.” It was early Friday morning, and I knew Jake could give me answers.

“Really, and you’re calling me and not the other half of your brain?”

He was referring to Will, of course. “Are you going to make this an issue?”

“Of course not. Shoot.”

I knew he’d keep it to himself. “I have a new professor this year. She’s fucking hot.”

“Your professor is hot?” Jake choked.

“Yeah, she’s only like twenty-six or seven. Something happened to her but I don’t know what. She’s fucking smart and beautiful and has the most gorgeous, inquisitive, sky blue eyes. She puked on me last week.”

“What?” Jake interrupted, laughing. “Did you say she puked on you?”

“She had some kind of panic attack over something—I don’t know if someone hurt her or what, but it’s left a really bad aftershock. I helped her home and we talked a little.” I’d been trying to hold back the feelings I’d been grappling with, but now in the safety of my older brother, they were spilling out. I paced as I talked. “I really don’t get it. Yes, she’s smoking—I came on to her the first day of class because I thought she was a student, but now … I just want to be with her. At least be her friend. I can’t explain it. She’s so sad and caught up in whatever has her, and I feel like I need to get her out of it. I’ve seen her smile and it’s like the fucking sunrise. She has four contacts in her phone,
four!
One is her work. Two others are her parents. And she’s lived here in Seattle for months and goes nowhere but to the school, an Irish pub to eat and home. God damn it, I have to figure it out!”

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