SMART TASS (The OHellNO Series Book 1) Page 15

  The elevator doors burst open and my lungs collapse. Oh, dear Lord. I shield my eyes. I can’t believe she’s tricked me.

  “No…” I groan.

  “Yes,” she hisses.

  Three incredibly built men in tight jeans burst from the elevator. Music, with deep base, explodes from the speakers in the room. The men are topless, ripped, and positively sexual.

  “Um, wow…” is all I can manage to say.

  “Over here!” Rach yells and points to me.

  The three guys—one blond and two with brown hair—zero in on me and make their way over, forming a line right in the middle of the living room, directly in front of me. The stylishly dressed crowd, most sipping martinis and in their twenties, circles around us as the show begins. Manly hips thrust, abs flex, and bulgy arms bulge.

  My body explodes with hot blushes. I’ve never been the center of attention in a way like this, and I can’t help laughing. It’s half nerves and half hysteria.

  How could she do this to me? In front of a room full of strangers, no less. I suppose it’s no worse than going to one of those bars, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those either.

  The song ends, some dance thing I don’t even recognize, and just when I think it’s over, another song starts. “I Want Your Sex” by George Michael.

  Rachel fans her face, and the women howl. I am giggling awkwardly, dying of embarrassment. Until the elevator doors open again.

  Hunter.

  His eyes are on me like anger on a dictator, like hunger on a tiger, like rage on a group of political protestors. For a moment, I feel embarrassed, but I’m not his. I never have been. Never will be. I can air-hump whomever I choose.

  So I do.

  The guy with brown hair in the middle struts up to me and bends at the knees, pumping his hips. I join in, meeting him thrust for thrust, eliciting ear-piercing shouts from everyone.

  He stands up and grabs my arms and bends to my cheek. His tongue licks down the side of my neck, across my collarbone, to my breast bone.

  It kind of feels good to be bad. It feels good to do something that doesn’t involve grades or Hunter.

  Only…

  I feel the guy pull away and a rumble erupts from the crowd.

  What the…

  Hunter, who’s dressed in a snug black button-down shirt and blue jeans, makes the time-out sign with his hands. “Shut that fucking music off.”

  No. No, you don’t! “Don’t you dare shut it off. I was enjoying—”

  The music dies, but the rumble of voices doesn’t.

  “What are you doing?” I seethe.

  “We need to talk.”

  “No. You need to talk, which I agreed to let you do tomorrow morning so that we can finally put the past where it belongs.”

  “Well, what if I don’t want to put us in the past?” His chest expands with panted, angry breaths.

  “That’s not your choice, Hunter.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not about to let you make up your mind until you’ve at least heard me out.”

  “I heard plenty already, Mr. Bet. And in case you haven’t noticed,” I glance at the half-naked guy to my side, “I’ve already made up my mind. I’ve moved on.”

  “With a stripper?” Hunter snarls.

  “No.” I look at the guy. “Though I’m sure you’re a very nice person, so no offense.” The stripper guy shrugs, and I turn back to Hunter. “I’m moving on from you because you’re an overgrown man-child looking for someone to sit on the sidelines and wave pompoms while you go onto the NFL. I’m a grown woman with a future ahead of her and you will never be part of that equation. So there is no discussion. There is no us. So why don’t you go back to your silly frat games.”

  “You know what? You are demagogue!”

  “I’m a…demagogue?”

  His gorgeous face turns an angry red. “That’s right. I know big words, too, Tass. And you are a fomenter! A radical, incendiary. An emotional terrorist.”

  God. Where does he get off using such expressive terms with me? Articulation makes me hot!

  Whoa. Hold on. Maybe big words make me hot, but Hunter doesn’t.

  I nod and put my hands on my waist. “At least I didn’t fornicate with you for points.”

  “Didn’t you?” he snarls back.

  “No.” He’s lost it.

  “You made it clear you only used me for sex.”

  I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Like I’m some manizing whore. “I am not the one who took that bloody T-shirt to show to your friends.”

  The party guests, who are probably enjoying the drama, make horrible sounds. Yes, I’ve crossed the TMI line. So what?

  “I would never do that to you,” he snaps back.

  “Did you or did you not tell everyone you’d fuck me and provide proof?” I turn toward the crowd. “Oh yeah. That’s right, people. Just like the good old days when they flew the bloody virginal sheet out the window.” I point to Hunter. “That’s the kind of guy he his.”

  “Hey, man,” says the stripper guy with brown hair, “I think you should go.”

  Hunter turns with clenched fists. “This is between Tassie and me, so go mind your own fucking business.”

  Hunter is much bigger than Mr. Stripper and the last thing I want is two hotheads going at it. Besides, Hunter getting into trouble at this stage of his life could ruin everything.

  And idiot me cares. What’s the matter with me?

  Still, I can’t help myself. I step between the two, facing Hunter. “Oh. My. God. You’ve learned nothing, Hunter. Nothing at all. But I have. I don’t want to see you again, and if it takes going to another college and never going home again, then that’s what I’ll do. But you. Are. Toxic. Wake up!” I throw my drink in his face.

  I march from the party, taking the elevator and walking to my car, which is parked on the street.

  Halfway home, I realize a car is behind me. It’s been behind me for miles. Ten miles later, I see it’s a red Mustang. Hunter.

  Oh. Oh…now you’re asking for it.

  Twenty minutes later, my mind is made up. I’m going to kick the shit out of him. I’ll jump on his shoulders and bite off his ears. I’ll head butt that perfect nose of his. I’m going to jail, baby!

  By the time I pull into my parents’ driveway, I’ve realized how ridiculous that is. Violence doesn’t resolve anything. And I really, really can’t stand seeing it in any form. Freaks me out.

  I get out of my car, knowing he’s getting out of his, too.

  “Tass! Get over here! We need to talk.”

  I ignore him and head for my front door, fumbling for the key.

  “So that’s it, huh? You’re going to chuck me aside again. Just like that? Like you did when we were six?”

  I pause with the key in my hand. “That’s not true, Hunter.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  I turn and look at him standing on the walkway. “No. It’s not.”

  “Then what do you call a girl who fucks with your head for over a decade and then when you put everything on the line for her, she refuses to look at you? What about that?”

  I march down the steps, pointing in his face. “You fucked me for a bet. For fucking points, Hunter! You lied! To me!”

  “I fucked you because I wanted to fuck you. The bet was just an excuse to grow some balls, because you’re so damned impossible!”

  “What! I am not impossible. I’m just stupid for trusting you!”

  “Yes. You are stupid.” His face riles in mine. “Who else would doubt a guy who almost went to jail to help her? Or who lied to his parents? We almost went bankrupt because of you, and you’ve never showed an ounce of gratitude.”

  “Because I didn’t remember!”

  “No! Because you’re a judgmental snob like your stuck-up parents. And you’ve never quite comprehended the fact that I’ve been in love with you since we were five! So…fuck you! And fuck your fam—”

  “Hunter,” a st
ern female voice barks to our side. It’s his mother.

  My eyes do a one-eighty sweep. Oh, God. My parents are standing behind me. His parents are standing to our side.

  They heard everything. Including the bit about him fucking me.

  I’m horrified.

  “I had to pay one hundred thousand dollars because of her?” his father growls. He’s a big man with big arms and a receding hairline.

  “Hey!” my dad barks. “Watch your mouth.”

  “Why? My son almost went to prison. For this little stuck-up princess,” Hunter’s dad lobs back.

  “Screw you, Mr. Johnson!” I roar. “You’re nothing but a bully who picks on your family. You have no right!”

  “Tassie!” my mother spits. “Don’t talk to him that way, even if he is a Neanderthal.”

  “He’s not a Neanderthal,” Hunter snarls. “And he cares more about me than you’ve ever cared about Tassie. He gave up his retirement to keep me out of jail and you won’t even give your own daughter the time of day because she’s not in some fucking lame sorority.”

  “You!” my father interjects, pointing at Hunter. “Don’t you dare talk to my wife that way, or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Hunter’s dad steps forward, and I realize this is about to turn into a fight.

  “Stop!” screams Hunter’s mother. “I’ve stayed quiet long enough.” She points to Hunter’s dad. “Get your head out of your ass. Hunter is our son, and he made his choices. So did we. You can’t blame Tassie for any of it.” She looks at my father. “And shame on you and your wife for always judging us. We almost lost our house. We almost lost everything. But would you so much as offer us a smile or a few kind words? No. Because you’re too good for your own glasses. So…shame on you!”

  And just as I’m about to speak, unsure of what I’ll say, my mother steps off the porch, looking at her feet. “I am so sorry,” she practically whispers. “Millie, I didn’t know how you felt.”

  Hunter’s mom’s name is Millie.

  “Well, now you do,” Millie says.

  Hunter’s dad opens his mouth, but Millie silences him with a threatening finger. “Not another word, Gerald, or so help me I will leave you. I’m done with your pigheaded bullying.”

  Hunter’s dad, Gerald, looks shocked. Not angry, but shocked. Like a child who’s been given a time-out.

  “Tassie?” says my father.

  I look at him, having zero idea of what he’s about to say.

  “Millie is right.” He shakes his head. “This situation isn’t logical. And it has gone on long enough. I suggest you and Hunter decide.”

  “Decide what?” I ask.

  My dad takes a deep breath, removes his glasses, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have always known that your relationship with Hunter is complicated. Any fool can see you two are obsessed with each other and always have been. But we didn’t interfere because we believed you would work it out once you got older. We were wrong. You haven’t worked it out, and things seem to have gotten more complicated. I think you need to decide if you’re going to love him or forget him, but no more hate. No more fighting, honey. Look at the damage it’s caused all of us.”

  My eyes tear. “Damage?” I whisper.

  My dad wipes the stream of wetness from under my eyes. “There’s nothing a parent won’t do for their children, Tass. And that includes fighting with your neighbors because their son made you so sad.”

  Oh. So I guess my pretending that I was okay all these years didn’t work. My parents saw right through me, which explains why our families never really got along.

  I look at Hunter, who seems absolutely twisted inside. Then I look back at my dad and his glassy blue eyes.

  “We love you, Tassie,” says my dad. “And we are always in your corner, no matter what you do with your life. But we can’t let you two ruin your lives. You’re both too smart and full of so much potential. And you’re holding each other back.”

  He’s right. I know he is. All this drama has stolen energy from Hunter and me, energy we could’ve spent on other things.

  “You have to decide now, sweetie,” my dad says. “But our families aren’t going to keep doing this. At least, I don’t want to.”

  My dad looks at Hunter’s father, who jerks his head and says, “How about a beer?”

  My father doesn’t drink beer. Only red wine for his heart health. Still, he smiles. “Love to.”

  “I’m in, too,” my mom says.

  They all walk away, talking quietly. Peace has been made in a war that Hunter and I started as children. I just never understood how deeply it had affected everyone.

  I look up at Hunter, who’s staring down with that tight jaw and those sensual lips pinched. He’s so beautiful. And I realize he’s no longer that little boy who used to pull my hair. He’s all grown up. Really, really grown up. But deep down inside, maybe we still felt like those little kids who just didn’t know how to deal with our feelings.

  “So, the bet, huh?” I mutter.

  He takes my hand. “It was inexcusable, but it was also just an excuse to go for it. I’ve wanted you for a very long time, Tass. I didn’t lie about that.”

  “Oh.” I feel like my heart might crumble.

  “Oh?”

  I shrug and look down.

  “What does ‘oh’ mean, Tass?”

  “It really hurt when I thought you used me just to win.” I sigh. “And I want you, too.”

  He steps in close and rubs his thumb over my lower lip. “Stupid girl. I would never use you. I just wanted to be with you—the girl next door who crushed my heart in kindergarten. Also the girl who didn’t put up with my bullshit and tormented me with her little laugh and little walk and her big words for the last decade.”

  My mind starts to deconstruct the thousands of memories I’ve stashed away inside my head of Hunter and me. I think I chose to remember the bad stuff, the teasing and torment, but there were times when he did try—buying me chocolates on Valentine’s or giving me a big box of funny elf pencils for Christmas. He even invited me out a few times to eat, but I never took him seriously. I just chalked it all up to him trying to play a prank. “Sorry. Not falling for whatever frolicsomeness you’ve envisioned in your cranium, Hunter.” Or, “Sorry, Hunter. But my intelligence can only be spent on matter—which you don’t.”

  I suppose I could see why Hunter might need a hard push to go for it when I’d shot him down so many times. His argument, that the bet gave him an excuse to be with me, makes sense, I suppose.

  The waterworks start up again, and I wipe the tears away. “Dammit. See what you did?” I sob my words.

  “What, Tassie?”

  “You made me not be mad at you anymore,” I cry. “How do you do that to me?”

  He pulls me into his broad chest and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Because you secretly love me?”

  I sink into his strong frame and inhale his sweet scent. Love. Now there’s a word I never thought I’d associate with Hunter. And he’s right, my feelings run deep. Otherwise, he wouldn’t get to me like he does. “Clearly I’m into you,” I sniffle.

  “I’m into you, too. Ever since you convinced me that I was destined for great things and to never give up.”

  I pull back and look up at those hypnotic blue eyes. “I said that?”

  He nods. “Yes. You were studying Latin root words at the time. You told me that Hunter means greatness. You were five, but you were very convincing.”

  My mind can’t. It just can’t. But it has to. Everything in my world—planets, stars, and the microcosms inside my cells—have finally aligned. For once in my life, it all feels so right.

  “Will you please kiss me now?” I ask.

  He grins, full dimples and everything. “Yes. Yes, I will. If you will be my real girlfriend and go out on a date with me. No more pretending.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He dips his head and kisses me with soft, warm lips. I realize that this
is the kiss I’ve been waiting for my whole life. And it’s better than anything I could’ve imagined.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The rest of Thanksgiving week is a blur of emotions—me and Hunter, our families, and dealing with letting go of a reality that no longer exists. That’s the funny thing about facing the truth, it’s hard to swallow, but it also sets you free. My new reality is helping me see possibilities and the future. One that will be with Hunter. Turns out, he is going pro. After college. He says that he only plans to play for a few years and then wants to go into teaching. Science of all things. My heart fucking melted right then and there.

  “I always knew you were a closet smarty, Hunter. I’m so hot for you right now.” Seriously, imagining him teaching, expanding minds? So, so sexy.

  “You always were a sucker for education,” he replied with that cocky little smile.

  Anyway, Hunter and I have been going crazy for alone time all week, but we haven’t had a moment of privacy since the big family showdown.

  That night, my brother arrived and I had to spend quality time with him, catching up. The next night, Hunter’s parents came over for fondue. It was actually pretty funny because our dads discovered they’re both into birds. Yeah. Birds. My dad has a couple of feeders in the yard and uses a program to track them as part of a subroutine that correlates bird migration to weather patterns. And Hunter’s dad…well, he likes to shoot birds and eat them. Not exactly the same thing, but it’s common ground and a good place to start a new relationship.

  Then the following day, Rach and I went for our girls’ day out. Toes. Manicures. Facials. And lots of talk about her new guy—some botanist she met at school. Yes, they slept together, so she and I got to compare notes. For scientific purposes, of course.

  The week flew by, but there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t pining for Hunter. Those lips. That body. His sweet smile and voice. But more importantly, I craved our connection. It existed at a level so deep that my heart pattered with the thought of holding his hand. My body, on the other hand, exploded at the thought of being alone again. Skin on skin. Heart to heart. Breath with breath.

  Thanksgiving Thursday, after we have dinner with our families, Hunter and I meet outside. “Let’s go home tomorrow,” he says, kissing me, panting, pushing into me as we stand on his porch. I feel like dragging him into the bushes and having my way with him.