Matched (6 page)

“Flip cup by the pool in five!” Wyatt yells, banging on the door. Instantly, I go stiff and dry, squirming out from under Oakley.

“Fuck him, Harlow.” He grabs me. “We don’t have to play. Now come ’ere.”

“I can’t. I’m not comfortable, Oakley. They all know what we’re doing, and there’s cameras in here, and…” My eyes flicker to every corner of the room where glass domes are mounted, and I gasp.

“Okay, baby, okay.” He holds me, rubbing my back. “I hear you.”

“Don’t be mad,” I whisper.

“Never.” He kisses my head. “We’ll have our time, when I’m all you’ll notice.” I nod into his chest, soaking up the comfort of his embrace. “So, you any good at flip cup?” He laughs.

“Never played.”

“Come on.” He stands. “I’ll still pick you for my team.”

Flip cup becomes my new favorite game after round two. Side note of great importance, I’m amazing at it—definitely the best to ever play. Somehow, it turned into
strip
cup after a while, but I’ve yet to lose. And my eyes won’t focus enough to see anyone’s naked anything, so it’s all good. All I see is my cup. And the drunker I get, the more impressive I get. Go figure.

The only two not playing—besides Miles and Jasmine, of course—are Cruz and Emma. Cruz has been in the pool all night, and not because of its gorgeous rock walls, waterfalls, and multicolored lights. No, he’s there because Emma’s out here, watching the game in a cloud of longing despair.

When Oakley calls time to “take a leak” and almost all the guys need to do the same, the alcohol buzzing through me calls time for a Cruz chewing.

“Harlow, don’t,” Emma whispers when she sees where I’m heading, but my blood-alcohol level knows she doesn’t mean it, so I keep going.

“Hey!” I stand in front of him and glare down, my hands on hips.

He tilts his head back casually and looks up at me, but says nothing.

“You could’ve brought anyone in the whole world. Why’d you bring her?” I snarl.

“She wanted to come,” he deadpans.

“And why do you think she wanted to come, hm? I
bet
it was to have
fun
. Don’t you?”

“She
is
having fun.”

“The
fuck
!” I yell. Wow. I’m not just drunk—I’m shouty-f-bomb plastered. “You won’t let her do shit! And you, all sulky, ‘Look at my sexy back, ’cause I’m too
good
to play.’ Lighten up—at least on her!”

“Harlow!” Oakley barks from across the yard. My head jerks up, and I see two of him. “Get your ass over here, woman. You’re drunk, and that shit’s none of your business.”

“Hop to it, Harlow.” Cruz smirks mischievously when I sling daggers back down at him, one brow raising. “You’re being summoned.”

I look over, ready to drunk-tongue-whip Oakley too, and somehow actually notice Emma’s gone. “Where’s Emma?” I bellow.

“Bed,” Oakley answers.

“Shit,” Cruz grumbles as he pushes himself out of the water.

“Me too, then!” I declare, stomping past them all.

I plan to head straight to bed, but not before I stop at Emma’s door and knock.

“Emma?”

“Come in, it’s just me,” she answers.

I creep inside, suddenly feeling like my good intentions missed the mark and I went too far. She’s on her bottom bunk, making it easy for me to just invite myself in beside her.

“I’m sorry, Em. I was only trying to help. It’d be a waste to spend your time here miserable.” I wrap an arm around her. “But I was out of line. Plus, I think I might be drunk, so you have to forgive me. It’s a rule.”

This gets a laugh out of her, which lightens my heart. “I’m not mad at you. I actually really appreciate it. I’m not mad at Cruz, either. I knew he’d be like this, but I begged him to bring me anyway. It’s just the way he is.”

“Why?”

“Big-brother thing.” She snickers, though only slightly. “He means well.”

“Want me to punch him?”

“No!” She howls with laughter. “Do you even know
how
to punch?”

I wrinkle my nose in thought. “Nope. But now’s the time to learn. If he hits me back, at least I won’t feel it.”

“He’d never hit you back…ever,” she says solemnly.

“Want me to sleep in here with you?”

“Nah, I’m pretty tired. Gonna go to sleep.” She lies back and positions her pillow under her head. “Go to bed, drunky. And thanks again.”

“Night, Emma
Anya
.”

I blow her a kiss and teeter my way out the door. In the hallway, leaned back against the railing with his ankles and arms both crossed, is Cruz.

“Uh,” I say, glancing around, “hey?”

“Hey.” He smiles, catching me further off guard. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

“Where’s—”

“Outside, partying.” He slings my arm around his neck and his own around my waist. Did I mention he smells perfect? All male—no cologne.

“I’m right here, baby.” Oakley appears in our path, and Cruz tenses for a second before releasing me into his arms.

Thanks
, I mouth to Cruz before letting my head fall onto Oakley’s chest, exhaustion setting in.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Oakley says, lifting me up and cradling me in his arms. He carries me down the hall and whispers, “I’ve been missing your sweet pussy, but I’m guessing tonight’s not the night, huh?”

“Sleepy,” is all I can muster.

Oakley chuckles, the rumbling in his chest shaking me awake a little.

“Shit,” he says, stopping dead in his tracks.

I lift my heavy head to find we’re standing in my room, a few feet away from Jasmine’s bed—where Jensen’s face is buried between her legs. Her hands are in his hair, begging him for more. They’re both unaware they’re not alone.

“Our bad,” Oakley says, spinning us in the other direction.

“Oh, God, sorry!” I hear Jasmine gasp, but Oakley’s already in the hall, leading us to his room.

Jensen and Jasmine?
I get she’s in love with him, but seriously? Does she need me to recite to her the definition of ‘being used’? The whole thing is a buzzkill. She deserves so much better.

“You’re with me tonight, baby,” Oakley says sweetly before depositing me on his bed and sliding in beside me, where he belongs.

At some point during the night, I wake on Oakley’s floor with a sore back to rival my throbbing head. Thank God he’s a bottom-bunker, because falling from the top might’ve required an actual doctor’s visit.

I stand slowly and smile at Oakley, who’s sound asleep in the tiny twin bed, his massive frame hogging every inch of it. The fact that he thought he could hold me all night in his arms and share that space is laughable. I haven’t the faintest idea how long I’ve been in here, but hopefully it’s been enough time for Jensen and Jasmine to get their fill so I can sleep in my own bed without extracurricular entertainment.

I’m slinking down the hall toward my bedroom when the sound of feminine laughter echoes up from the Great Room below. It’s followed by words I can’t ignore.

“Come on, Cruz, seriously.
Someone
in this house has to have caught your eye.”

Cruz.
For some inexplicable reason, I can’t stop myself from sidling closer. I peer down at the couch below, where he’s sitting next to a
very
friendly Callie.

“What happens if Emma gets matched and sent home before you, huh?” she asks.

“Then I’ll quit and go with her.”

“No way!” Callie swats his arm. “You can’t just quit. Besides, you have to be at least a
little
curious about who the computers matched you with. My money’s on Rachel.”

“Hell no. I’ve tried the whole bitch thing before. Gets old quick.” Cruz takes a swig of his beer, then rests one leg across his knee. “I’m thinking you and Oakley would be good together.”

What!
I scream internally at the same time Callie does aloud.

“Are you crazy? That man’s in love, and Harlow’s my girl.” Callie’s shaking her head, but Cruz doesn’t let up.

“Think about it. You’re both into sports—determined, driven to win. You’re go-getters through and through. Plus, I heard him say he doesn’t want kids.” She inhales sharply and he gives her a soft, placating half smile, half frown. “I saw the interview about…” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Never mind. That was a dumb thing to say. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know what you meant—it’d make sense for us. And it is what it is.” She shrugs. “There are other options for having children, should I ever decide I want them.”

“That’s exactly right.” He bumps her chin gently with his fist. “Good attitude, girl.”

Her face drops a bit, as does my heart. Poor Callie. She can’t have kids? And Oakley doesn’t
want
kids? Since when? The more my head aches at the idea, the more it dawns on me, I’ve never really seen him around children, and we’ve never talked about them. But surely he knows I do want kids…at least three, maybe four. I guess I just assumed he did too.

I feel guilty dwelling on it with Callie seemingly not having the choice, but this is too shocking to just dismiss.

Callie’s voice drags me out of my own head. “Well, like I said, Harlow’s my girl. I’m not going after Oakley, no matter how fine he is.”

Cruz says nothing, the silence deafening as they both sip their drinks until Callie clears her throat. “Okay, so no Rachel. What about you and Jasmine?” she asks, completely serious. But from the way Cruz’s head whips in her direction, I’m guessing he’s not feeling it. “She’s sleeping under you, and let’s face it, No man in this house hasn’t thought about it at least once. Hell, even
I’m
tempted to ask her for some pointers. She’s gorgeous, and has one of the biggest hearts here. What’s not to love?”

“Girl’s a sweetheart and hot for sure, but not my type.”

“And who
is
your type, Cruz?” Callie presses—literally, her body’s crushing against him.

This is
so
not the Callie I’ve seen before. Does she have a thing for Cruz? He can be an ass, but he seems like a decent guy, and Callie deserves that.

I need to turn around, go to my room, fall asleep, and dream about my Oakley. But I can’t make myself stop watching, completely entranced, hanging on for their next words.

“Who’s yours?” Cruz asks, taking another swig of his beer before setting it next to him on the end table.

Callie shrugs. “I don’t know. Peyton’s smart and cute, and Court’s hot, but it’s too early to tell. Jensen and Wyatt are both a hell no, and Miles wears a pink man-thong.” She laughs. “So yeah, my options are few. Your turn.” She shoves at him flirtatiously again.

“Shit, Callie, I don’t know either. I think this whole thing’s bullshit anyway. I’d have turned down coming here, but Emma…” His voice fades out thoughtfully. “She wanted to do this so bad. You know me—sucker.”

“So you’re just here for Emma, who gets to do nothing?” she teases, laughing. “And you like the ladies. Don’t pretend you don’t. I remember how you were that weekend, swarmed and enjoying it.”

Now it’s Cruz who chuckles. “Yeah, that was a good time. What happened to the guy you were there with?”

Okay, so they didn’t hook up the last time they were together…or so it sounds.
Why do I care, and why am I still standing here?

“Nope.” She pokes him in the ribs. “No changing the subject. Answer my question, who in the house would you pick?”

He takes a long, stalling swig of his beer before finally speaking. “No one in particular,” he mumbles.

“Fine, then. You gonna help a girl out or not?”

Help her out? With what, finding her soulmate?

Cruz sits up slowly, facing her as his hand grips her chin. And, like a total voyeur, I lean in for a closer view.

“You’re one of the good girls in this house, Callie. Been a good girl all your life, from what you’ve told me. You sure about this?” Cruz’s voice is low and grave; my stomach plummets at the sound.

She answers him by crashing her lips to his neck, kissing her way down as her body slides off the couch. Her hands grope him shamelessly as she settles between his legs. Cruz leans back without another word, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch, letting her do her thing as she begins to unbutton his jeans.