Unethical (12 page)

I’d rather go watch the soccer game tomorrow. Shaggy-haired guys in soccer shorts did a whole lot more for me than players in spandex and shoulder pads. Blake used to play but lost his chance at a scholarship when he tore his ACL junior year. All those years of club team and—
poof
—his dreams shredded along with his ligament. He had still planned to play on Baylor’s intramural team, but it wasn’t the same.

I remembered that day clearly—the torrential downpour, the droplets tamping down his unruly curls, the asshole player who slide-tackled straight into Blake’s shin, ruining his future soccer career. When Blake didn’t get up, my heart dipped into my stomach. I held his hand the whole way to the hospital as he tried to hide the tears, staring out the passenger window.

Soccer had meant everything to him. Did it still? Or was everything from high school ancient history?

“We’ll all meet in front of the stadium at eleven?”

Did I miss something? Thinking about sexy soccer players—make that
one
sexy soccer player—must have distracted me from the conversation. “Huh?”

“Haven’t you been listening? You, me, Blake, and Andrew are going to the game together. They have tickets in the same section.”

“Cool.” I pushed around the smoked-Gouda mashed potatoes steaming on my plate with my fork.

I glanced through my eyelashes to catch Blake full-on staring at me. Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I stuffed mashed potatoes in my mouth and focused on the smoky cheese flavor. Definitely not on my ex-boyfriend undressing me with his eyes. Did he feel it, too?

He raised his brow, a
fuck me
smile curving on his full lips. Oh, yeah, he felt it. I slid down in my chair as a familiar ache built in my stomach. My defenses lowered with each look he sent, and my eyebrows fell into conversation with his.

Yes, please screw me again in the back of your pickup.
I pleaded with my eyes.

His brows scrunched together.
Missionary or doggy style?

I licked my lips, and his gaze followed my fingers as they trailed down the material of my dress.
Both.

Jules cleared her throat and leaned in close to my ear. She whispered, “Is it getting hot in here?”

Way too hot.

I glanced at Andrew, who was typing something on his phone. He yawned and said, “I’ll be right back.”

Glad to know I was that interesting. Then again, Blake and I were eye-fucking across the table.

After dinner ended, one of the fraternity guys plugged his iPod into the speakers. Couples got up from the table and made their way to the dance floor. Andrew still hadn’t returned, and I wasn’t in the mood to get sweaty in my dress.

A slow song came on, and a freshman asked Jules to dance. She winked at me and left me sitting at the table alone with my chocolate tiramisu. Before I heard him, I smelled him. His sweet cologne sent tingles drifting down my spine.

“May I have this dance?” Blake gave me a crooked smile and extended his hand.

“Sure.” My heart did cartwheels along my ribcage. Yep, my defenses were nonexistent. My twelve-step program resolve stayed parked at the table next to my tiramisu. I grabbed his hand, and my skin tingled as our fingers laced together.

We walked hand in hand to the dance floor, the scene a complete déjà vu. A few years ago, this could have easily been us at prom.

He pulled me close to his body, and we swayed to the beat of the slow song. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and my thumbs brushed against his soft hair. I laced my fingers together, fighting against teasing them through the dark waves.

He held me at arm’s length and examined my outfit once more. “Payton, you look so gorgeous.” His voice cracked a little, and he cleared his throat.

My cheeks fried, like they’d spent a day out in the Florida sun with no sunscreen. I worked hard to control my breathing as my pulse thrummed in my ears. He felt it. Could we try our relationship again? Was it possible? I’d give anything right now for him to be mine again, for his mouth to run freely over every inch of my skin. Being with him made me feel whole. “You’re not too shabby, either.”

Blake’s grip around my waist tightened, his thumbs pressing into my hips. His other fingers gently caressed the small of my back, sending delicious shivers running from the base of my spine to my neck. Goose bumps trailed down my arms, and I hugged tighter to Blake’s warm body. I slipped my arms inside of his open blazer and wrapped them around his broad chest. Resting my head in the crook of his shoulder, I sighed and breathed in his heavenly scent.

It wasn’t fair to keep blaming him for my problems. I had been so mean to him these past couple months. He had no clue my mom would pass when he was on his trip, and I really hadn’t given him the opportunity to talk about it. I’d had to get away. The grief from losing both my parents was suffocating, and it blinded me to everything else.

“I’m sorry about everything. About leaving you and not telling you where I went. And I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you.”

He whispered, “We can talk about that later. Let’s just dance.”

Not exactly an acceptance of my apology, but definitely a start.

My body relaxed as I nestled my head deeper into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes. I missed him. Everything about him. The way he smelled, the sweet taste of his lips, the way he ran his fingers through my hair as we made love.

It all became so clear.

I still loved him.

Chapter Fourteen

Blake

My sad, sorry excuse for a laptop wobbled as I opened the screen. It barely hung on by my last-ditch duct tape effort. Andrew had tripped over the power cord during a party, and my laptop had sailed across the room, starting the gradual downfall of the POS. Unlike what I originally thought, duct tape did not fix everything; it just delayed the inevitable—biting the dust.

I logged in to the forum for class. Even though I had given more than three responses and already had a grade for the assignment, Payton and I had kept exchanging cryptic messages. It was pretty fun, but I probably should just text her in case the TA decided to go perusing the forum.

No new posts popped up when I clicked on my original message, but as I exited the forum, my phone buzzed on my desk.

Payton.

P: Had a great time the other night. Made me think of all the good times we had.

Did this mean she was ready to give it another try? Definitely the vibe I was getting from her text. Grinning like an idiot, I hit the reply button.

B: Yeah. I miss the good old days.

A text rang in a few second later.

P: Me, too.

Finally. Took her long enough to admit it.

I put down my phone and logged in to my email. Ten new emails and a mountain of messages I still needed to reply to. Most of them were questions about fraternity events this month and our annual fundraiser for leukemia. Fall was our biggest party season, which meant more time spent decorating, and more time cleaning. My Social Planning Committee position meant I headed all major functions. Luckily, Ricky had given me his notes from last year when he ran that position. So far so good. And if I didn’t fuck anything up too bad, I had a good possibility of being chapter president next year. I’d held a position in office all three years, and I was pretty sure I would get the position after spring elections.

Under the cluster-fuck of fraternity emails, one sat, unopened, from my aunt. A queasy feeling settled in my stomach. She never emailed me to relay good news, and she’d already told me about her plans for Thanksgiving, so this must be bad. Really bad. I popped the muscles in my neck and steeled myself as I clicked on the message.

Dearest Blake,

I am so sorry to inform you that Uncle Chuck lost his job. Money will be tight until he finds a new one, so we won’t be able to help with your tuition next term. Your bedroom is still here if you need to come back and take a break from college. I’m off to go get a mani and pedi and pick up my dry cleaning. Frederick misses you. Toodles.

Aunt Lily

I couldn’t do anything but stare at the screen. She said they were strapped for cash, but she could go get fucking manis and pedis—whatever the hell that was—and dry cleaning? And their stupid-ass dog missed me? Who the hell cared? Now, she could benefit from Andrew’s Adderall.

I banged my head against the wooden desk until the pain from the head bashing canceled out the pain in my chest. The laptop slammed shut and caught my pinkie in the process. Fuck.

My pinkie throbbed as I brought it to my mouth. I used my other hand to lift up the screen, and my suspicion was confirmed: laptop screen was a goner. The wires hung out, exposed through the plastic. I tried to prop the screen up again, but it slammed shut. Why did something always have to happen when my life started getting on track? The big man upstairs stared down at me, flipping me the bird.

I opened the screen all the way until it sat next to my keyboard like a book. There. Now it was a tablet without the touchscreen. I gave the finger right back at the big man. I’d made it this far and wasn’t about to give up this quickly.

With an emergency laptop purchase in the near future, I figured it was time to find a job. Next term was gonna be a bitch juggling school, the frat, the internship, and a job.

I pulled up Jobslist on my computer and searched for any openings. Jobs in a college town were few and far between.

Scrolling down the page, I looked at the options.

Paper route.
What, am I twelve?

Tanning salon.
Yeah, let’s sell something that causes cancer. That’ll look good on a med school application.

Bikini Coffee. I liked to look at girls in bikinis, but doubted I’d look as hot in a coconut bra.

The rest were for restaurants and required experience, which I had none of. I scrubbed my hands over my face and let out a sigh. Noticing I had fifteen minutes until econ, I closed down my computer, grabbed my jacket, and headed to class.

I had to look at the positive. Only a few more weeks ’til the semester ended, just in time for winter break. Even better, my twenty-oner was next week. My big, Ricky, had planned it, so I was pretty sure we were going to Dod’s, A Sig’s favorite hangout, and Sancho’s before I passed out.

On autopilot, I walked down the sidewalk toward Bexel, texting Ryan to see if he had any solid advice. Aside from being a gigolo, I was open to whatever suggestions he had.

The phone buzzed in my hand.

R: No clue. I could talk to a few people when I come home.

I sent him a quick text back thanking him. He had been MIA the past few weeks, so I was surprised to hear from him. It’d been a hard two years for him. I was supposed to be his roommate at Baylor when we graduated high school, but, like an idiot, I stuck around Drexler, hoping Payton would return. By the time I got my act together, my scholarship was gone.

Would I have been better off if I had joined Ryan? If not me, at least Ryan would have been. Instead of having me as an awesome roommate, he was stuck with a guy who ate enough garlic to ward off anyone with a sniffer. I’d been trying to get him to transfer here for a while now. Maybe I could wear him down during break.

My phone buzzed again. Payton.

P: What are you up to tonight?

I smiled. She knew exactly what I had planned. The same thing as her.

B: Internship.

P: Sounds lame.

B: It would be, but there’s this cute girl there that I’ve been dying to see all week.

P: Oh, really? What’s she like?

B: A pain in the ass.

P: …

B: An adorable, sexy pain in the ass.

P: Maybe this girl will get you alone in the storage room and show you just how much of a pain in the ass she can be.

Seven o’clock couldn’t roll around fast enough.

Chapter Fifteen

Payton

I strained on my tiptoes for the box of water bottles on the top shelf in the storage room. Small stature definitely had its advantages—heck yes to never bumping your head on things and always having leg room on airplanes—but being shut down like a kid attempting to raid a cookie jar on top of the fridge wasn’t one of them. I stepped back, surveying the room; no step stool in sight. The bottom shelves looked like they could support my weight if I scaled a few.

I climbed the first shelf and, to my relief, the metal didn’t buckle. But even with my arm fully extended, my fingertips barely brushed the box. I scaled another shelf, bracing myself by holding on to the side. My foot slipped off the metal as I let go with one hand to push the box to the floor. I missed the box, let out a shriek, and grabbed the side again, pressing my face into a bag of cotton balls.

“Training for
Ninja Warrior
?” Blake walked up behind me and pressed his hand against the small of my back, steadying my balance, sending a shot of heat straight to my core.

Paging Dr. Blake. Please report to the supply room for a thorough make-out sesh.

“I doubt shelf scaling for medical supplies is part of their obstacle course.”

“Probably not. Want me to get something for you before you break your neck?”

I let out a heavy sigh, still clinging to the shelf. “Yes.” I jutted my chin toward the top row. “That box of water bottles.”

He reached up and grabbed the box without even fully extending his arms. Damn ogre. After he set the box on the ground, he said, “Need a hand?”

Not really. I could jump down from the steps without breaking my ankle, but I’d be stupid to pass up an opportunity to touch him. “Sure.”

Once he stood directly behind me, I turned and wrapped my arms around his neck while he scooped one hand under my legs, the other behind my back. Our faces were inches apart as I stared at his mouth. That full bottom lip just begged to be nipped. As if he could read my thoughts, he ran his tongue across it and pulled me closer.

He bent his head down and planted a soft kiss right below my ear and whispered, “It feels good to have you in my arms again.”

My insides liquefied, his words melting my muscles. I nuzzled my forehead into his shoulder, his heart pounding against my ear. “Yeah.” I’d give anything to stay like this, exploring every inch of his body, giving it the attention it deserved.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Blake quickly set me on the ground and separated just in time for Brittany to clomp into the room.

I busied myself with opening the box, not able to look at Brittany. If she had been a couple seconds earlier, we’d be in some deep shit.

“Blake, can you bring Mrs. Cripps her meds? Payton, she’ll need a new water container—are you feeling well? You look a little flushed.”

Blake booked it out of the room before I answered. Wuss. I grabbed a bottle from the box and straightened. “Just had a hard time getting the box off the shelf.”
And would have climbed Blake like a ladder if you hadn’
t come in.

She frowned. “There’s a step stool at the nurses’ station. Use that next time.”

I nodded and continued to focus on the box.

Once she left the supply room, I leaned against the shelving unit, resting my head on the metal. I needed to focus. This was my one shot at making a good impression with the doctors on the medical board. If they saw what had happened, they’d push my application to the bottom of the stack. As much as I wanted him, Blake was off-limits at work.

Kicking the box to the corner, I exited the supply closet and trudged down the hall toward Mrs. Cripps’s room. Blake passed me, leaving as I entered, his lips curving into a smile as we brushed shoulders. If only I could lean in and get lost in his warmth. Instead, I smiled and kept walking.
Eye on the prize.

Mrs. Cripps lay in the hospital bed as I strode in the room.

“Can I have another glass of water, Nikki?”

I nodded and smiled at her. She’d resided in the intensive care unit for a few weeks now, her liver function in a dire state. Along with that, she couldn’t remember my name, so she called me Nikki. She called everyone Nikki, even Dr. Centafont.

After pouring some water from the pitcher to the bottle, I handed it to her and set the container back on the tray.

“How are you feeling today, Mrs. Cripps?”

“Terrible. As always.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Liver disease, at least from what I researched, was a very painful way to go.

“Me, too. This old body isn’t what it used to be.” She let out a heavy sigh and sunk her head deeper into the pillow. “When I was your age, I was head cheerleader. Dated the quarterback.”

“Yeah?”

“Married for fifty years until he passed from lung cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Me, too. He was the love of my life. Never had any kids, so now it’s just me.”

I put my hand over hers, rubbing my thumb over her dry, wrinkly skin. Saying sorry wouldn’t fix her problems, and probably wouldn’t make her feel better.

Would that be me some day? Griping in a hospital bed to anyone that would listen? God, how depressing.

“Buck up, Nikki. No use putting frown lines on that pretty face. Do you have a gentleman in your life?”

I snorted. “Sorta. I’ve been working stuff out with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Forget your ex-boyfriend. You need a nice man like that young man who brought my pills earlier.” She leaned in closer and said, “He has buns of steel. I copped a feel when he bent over to get my walker the other day.” I snorted. Blake had just brought her the nightly dose of her meds. If only she knew we were talking about the same person.

I swiped my hand over my lips, hiding my smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Dad would’ve gotten a kick out of Mrs. Cripps. Every night at dinner, we’d play a game called
who had the most ridiculous day
. Dad would tell one crazy thing a patient did or said at the hospital, and I’d tell him something that happened at school. One time, a patient freaked after coming out of surgery. Still high off the anesthetics, she accused my dad of chopping a few inches off her left leg when the only part operated on was her broken wrist. Another time, a patient only communicated via a hand puppet.

A dull ache pulsed in my chest as I realized I wouldn’t be able to share this with him.