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  “Sorry. Are you going somewhere?” I ask, my voice still gravelly from sleep.

  “Um…yeah.” She glances down and her face turns beet red. “I’ll uh, see you later.” She practically sprints down the stairs as if she can’t get away from me fast enough.

  Sure, I’m shirtless, but that’s because I just woke up. Oh, shit. I just woke up. I never got dressed, and I have a habit of sleeping buck-freaking-naked. And, yup, she just saw my morning wood. Lesson fucking learned.

  Chapter 5

  Mackenzie

  I just saw Hunter’s dick. I’m about to meet Spencer for breakfast, and all I can think about is Hunter’s raging morning wood. Spencer is going to think I’m flustered because of him, but his pencil dick doesn’t hold a candle to the one I just saw. Holy shit.

  I intentionally arrive at the diner late because I don’t want to give Spencer the wrong impression. I don’t want him to think I’m eager to see him, or that this is a date. If anything, I need to use this time to set him straight.

  I walk into the diner and the warm air offers instant relief to the November chill. I spot Spencer easily, sitting in the far back corner in one of the many wooden benches. I’m grateful he didn’t choose a bar-top seat. At least this way I can sit across from him and not directly beside him.

  The diner has a homey feel. Currently, every table is decorated with pumpkins that were painted by local kindergarten children. There’s a chalkboard with the daily specials decorated with a wreath of colorful leaves. There are strings of white lights intersected on the ceiling to further give the place a cozy feel.

  I take Spencer in as I slowly make my way toward him. He’s always been handsome, but that’s where the appeal ends. Maybe one day his built physique will turn into a beer belly and his David Beckham-esque hair will fall out. Then the world will see him for the ugly piece of shit he really can be.

  Now that I think about it — why am I even here? Why did my drunken alter-ego (mine’s named Slutty Samantha) agree to this?

  His face lights up when he meets my eye. Being around him makes all of my worst memories come pouring to the surface, annihilating me with the pain they bring. It’s my parents’ deaths. It’s his betrayal afterward.

  And yet there he sits, with his smug, egocentric smirk, looking me up and down like I’m a cupcake he wants to devour. As if there are no hard feelings or painful memories. It’s pissing me off all over again, but I’ll try to be nice. Until he pushes my buttons.

  “Hey, Kenz! Wow, you look amazing. I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered already — banana chocolate chip pancakes to split, just like old times.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. This was a bad idea.

  And really? I look amazing? My hair is up in a messy bun because I haven’t washed it for three days, and I’m in ripped jeans and a ratty UPenn hoodie. Oh, yes, I’m sure I’m oozing sex appeal.

  “What’s this about, Spence? We haven’t talked in, what, three years? What’s changed all of a sudden?” I’m trying not to let my irritation shine through, but I’m mad at myself for agreeing to this. I should’ve texted him saying ‘Sorry, I forgot when I was drunk that I loathe you. Have to cancel. See ya never!’

  His boyish grin used to be an effective panty-dropper for me. Hell, they practically threw themselves off at the sight. But now I’m staring at his shockingly white teeth and wondering if they glow in the dark like Ross’s on one of the episodes of Friends. Nobody’s teeth should be that white.

  “I wanted to catch up because it’s been so long, like you said. What’ve you been up to? How’s life?” I glance down at his hand on my arm. Between that and his soothing tone, I feel like I’m talking to my therapist.

  I don’t know how to act around him anymore. I’m totally over him, but the history is still there — but so is the bad blood. It’s an uneasy combination. How anyone manages to be friends with their exes is beyond me.

  I huff out a breath strong enough to blow the loose hair tendrils out of my eyes. “Well, I graduate in May then it’s grad school next fall.”

  He smiles and it appears genuine, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. “That’s great. Are you still going for art?” I’m surprised he even remembered I was studying art to begin with.

  “No, I changed to Behavioral Psychology after … the accident. I want to be a therapist for people who have experienced loss the same way I have.” I divert my gaze as I tell him and fiddle with the worn cuff of my hoodie. The time after my parents’ deaths was particularly rough in my history with Spencer, so I really don’t want to bring it up now.

  “So where are you going to grad school?” He slurps his coffee in an irritating manner that is in no way endearing.

  “I’m staying at UPenn.”

  He flashes his teeth again, and I’m momentarily blinded. I think they’re reflecting the sun into my eyes. I’m tempted to put my sunglasses on despite the fact I’m not hungover. “I just got accepted into UPenn’s Dental School.” Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. No wonder his teeth look like he painted them with white-out. I guess he’s following in daddy’s footsteps after all.

  “Oh. I see.” He smiles at my realization and apparently takes my response as an agreement for his agenda.

  He reaches across the table and wraps his hand around mine. It’s clammy and I’m fighting every fiber in my being by not ripping mine out from under his. “We were so great together, Kenz. I know I fucked up royally, but now we can be together again, like we were always meant to be.” His thumb has begun rubbing the back of my hand leaving a fire in its wake. Not in a good way, in an I-spilled-acid-on-my-skin-and-need-immediate-medical-attention kind of way.

  I slide my hand out from his. The awkwardness is nearly unbearable. “You’re serious? After everything we’ve been through, you think you can just waltz back into my life because we’ll be at the same college in the fall? What the fuck, Spence?”

  “Well, yeah. It’s a sign, isn’t it?” He’s delusional. A laugh bubbles out from between my lips at the absurdity of it all, and I have to fight to contain it before it gets out of control.

  It’s at this moment the waiter shows up with our pancakes, fully prepared with whipped cream on top. Good lord. I toss some money down on the table because I do not want him to think I owe him anything.

  “You’re unbelievable. You haven’t changed one bit. Congrats on grad school. I’ll see you around.” I knock my knuckles on the table twice before spinning around to leave.

  “So, that’s it? You don’t want to be with me?” I slowly turn, my eyebrows raised and my lips pursed. I nod my head deliberately and meet his eye, ensuring he gets the message. “You’ll regret this, Kenzie. I won’t give you another chance.”

  I scoff and roll my eyes. I hope that’s a promise.

  ***

  I park my car in the long driveway and see Hunter outside playing with Cujo — ahem — Jolie. I get out of my car quietly to not garner the unwanted attention from the beast, or so I thought. She must smell me or have supersonic hearing because the next thing I know she’s charging me again.

  I hop back into Hailey’s car, the cherry red Audi my saving grace from an untimely mauling. Luckily, Hunter manages to catch her and grab the collar to tame her before she jumps through the car window.

  “Jolie, sit! Bad girl!” His husky voice is muffled by the window between us, but I can make out his scolding. I think I’m fogging the window up with my heavy breathing just from staring at him. When I re-open the door, tentatively of course, the dog is sitting beside the door, tail wagging a mile a minute.

  “I’m sorry, Kenz. I’ve never seen her act like this before. She must really like you.” That’s his explanation for the killer beast’s behavior? Seriously? The dog keeps trying to kill me.

  “Or she smells Mittens and thinks I’m dinner.” My grumbling only causes him to chuckle in response.

  I still can’t look Hunter in the eye since our run-in this morning. I’m already half in love with the guy, and now I know what he
’s packing. And ho-ly shit. My cheeks are burning at the memory. I think drool is pooling at the corner of my lips. I need to get away from him as soon as possible.

  “I’m, uh, gonna go see what Hailey’s up to. I’ll catch ya later.” I back away from him and his feral friend slowly, never taking my eye off them.

  As I’m walking up the drive to the house, I hear my name being called, causing me to turn back around. The voice was unsure and unsteady, nearly lost in the cold breeze. “Hailey went out to meet up with some friends. Do you want to hang out for a bit? Maybe we can get Jolie used to you.” His head is dipped low as his hand scratches the back of his head. He’s the epitome of uncertain, it’s endearing. And confusing.

  His mood is throwing me off-kilter. That and the fact that I can’t stop imagining his peen. I mean, I’ve always wondered what it was like. And now the image is permanently etched into my memory. A memory I’ll be tapping into an awful lot during my late-night fantasies.

  All I can do is stutter out a single word. “S-sure.”

  Chapter 6

  Mackenzie

  “Don’t you have to go to work or something? It’s not like you’re on break.” I ask the obvious question as I follow Hunter into his parents’ house. I mean, he does have a job, right?

  “Since I’m relocating, my boss is giving me time off to settle.” He walks through the foyer and kitchen, leading me downstairs to the basement.

  The basement of the Blake estate is massive. One side encompasses a game room, filled with a pool table, air hockey table, and even Pac-Man. The other side has a giant set of soundproof doors that lead into the movie theater. There’s also a kitchenette and fully stocked bar. Glass doors lead out to a gorgeous backyard with a pool, hot tub, and tennis court.

  “What made you decide to move back home?” This is the perfect opportunity to ask him all of my burning questions.

  He’s quiet for a while as he walks toward the pool table. He grabs a stick and his knuckles wrap around it so tightly they turn white. He starts vigorously chalking the tip, and I gulp, feeling guilty for asking.

  “Alison and I broke up.” He’s speaking through clenched teeth, his voice strained as if the memory is too strong to overcome.

  I need to change the subject fast. “How about we make a little bet?” Hunter used to always kick my ass at pool, but I’ve been practicing. Drinking in dive bars has its benefits.

  He clears his throat before answering, the tension visibly leaving his body. His shoulders slump with an exhaled breath. “What did you have in mind?”

  “If I win …” I tap my fingers on my lips as I think of a good bet. I chuckle. A devious smirk pulls at the corner of my lips. “If I win you have to sing a song of my choosing at karaoke tonight.” The town bar we went to last night, where everyone from out high school likes to meet up, holds karaoke every Saturday night.

  He smirks, licking his lips and nodding his head at my bet. I’m still chuckling to myself, convinced I’m the funniest person alive. “Fine, but when I win, you have to go to dinner with me.”

  He leans against the pool table, zeroing in on my face. He’s studying me, and I need to remind myself to breathe under his gaze. Never in my life have I wanted to lose a bet so badly. But I couldn’t just let him win either.

  “Deal.” I stick my hand out and wait for him to take it. We shake once. His eyes are alight with devious scheming, though I can imagine mine look the same.

  My heart pounds in my chest and my hands go slick with sweat. “You want to break, Squirt, or do you need me to do it for you?”

  He’s already talking smack and I need to wipe that shit-eating grin off his smug face. I line up my shot. Eat your heart out, Hunter. I make sure to smirk at him out of the corner of my eye as I line up the shot.

  And I fucking whiff. Fuck me. Booming laughter erupts beside me, startling me, and I nearly drop my stick as I jump out of my skin.

  “I want a Mulligan!” My demand manages to make him laugh even harder. I adjust the cue ball despite the fact that it barely moved.

  This time when I take the shot I’m much more pleased. I sink two stripes and one solid. “I’ll take stripes.” I’m able to pocket two more balls before I choke and it’s my opponent’s turn.

  He makes shot after shot. I watch the precision on his face and the muscles in his arms flex every time he moves the stick. I stare at his finely shaped ass whenever time he bends over the table. I’m completely distracted, and I’m not even the one shooting.

  We go back and forth for the next thirty minutes until we’re both down to the eight ball. And it’s my turn.

  “What song would you like to sing at karaoke? What’s more humiliating? Making you rap some Eminem or maybe some Britney Spears — how about Like a Virgin by Madonna? Now that’s a good idea.” I’m cocky despite my whiff earlier. Call it nervous jitters. Since then I haven’t messed up. Until now.

  I get the angle wrong. Geometry was never my strong subject. The problem is, I don’t just miss the shot, I fucking scratch. Instant loss. Fuck.

  But did I really lose? He’s still taking me out to dinner, after all. But he’ll probably take me to McDonald’s or Chuck-E-Cheese to be funny and embarrass me. Shit.

  “Best outta two?” I shrug sheepishly. My face is hot as the embarrassment spreads. And there he is with that damn shit-eating grin again.

  “What do you say, Squirt? Ready to play in the ball pit at McDonald’s?” Like I said. God, he can be so infuriating. Why does he have to look so hot when he’s acting like such an ass.

  ***

  I’m freaking out. How can a person naturally smell like a dozen roses? Who was blessed with this a natural musk causing the rest of us to suffer body odor and utter humiliation?

  I’m getting ready for dinner — I refuse to call it a date — when Hailey walks into my room. She sees be rubbing rose petals under my armpits and bursts into laughter.

  “What in God’s name are you doing? Are those from the dining room table?” Her nose crinkles at my ridiculousness.

  I’m jittery. Despite my hour-long bubble bath — fully equipped with more rose petals — I still can’t seem to calm down and relax.

  “I’m trying to smell like a lady, what does it look like I’m doing? I’m freaking out here, Hails. Can you just help me?” I grab both of her hands, pleading with her.

  “Are you going out with Spencer again? Is that what this is about?” Her nose wrinkles in disgust and her lip curls. I can’t say I blame her.

  “God, no. Hunter is taking me out to dinner.” She gives me a look I can’t quite read. It’s a sly grin slowly forming on her lips. “What? I lost a bet.”

  “Wait a minute. How do you lose a bet yet still end up getting treated to dinner?” Truthfully, I have no idea what to tell her.

  The thought occurred to me as well. Even though I ‘lost,’ I didn’t really lose at all. I shrug and storm into my closet to find a decent outfit.

  “What says ‘I want to look good without trying too hard since this isn’t a date, but I’ve been in love with you my entire life?’” I blush at my candor. I realize this is the first time I’ve ever verbalized my feelings for her brother to her.

  “I knew it! Why didn’t you ever tell me? Why do you think I always kept you updated on his life? Okay, now isn’t the time. We’ll talk about that later. Right now we need to make you look hot.”

  Hailey proceeds to help me get ready for the next hour. She styles my hair, does my makeup, and chooses my outfit. I’ve never been good at all the girly stuff, another reason I’m lucky to have her. She’s a freaking wizard with a curling wand and makeup brush.

  When I’m finally ready, I head downstairs. I’m so nervous. My palm is slick against the wooden banister I’m gripping. I’m nervous. It’s not like I have extra time to give myself a pep talk before Hunter gets here because, well, he already lives here. I’m walking directly into the lion’s den. Maybe Jolie will knock me down again so I don’t have to go through w
ith this.

  My hand is braced on the railing, and I just pray I don’t fall down the steps and break my ankle or give Hunter full southern exposure. Hailey forced me into a ridiculous pair of her high-heeled boots, and right about now I want to turn around and put on some flats instead.

  When I make it to the bottom of the stairs, I breathe a sigh of relief. When I look up, I see Hunter already waiting for me in the living room.

  He’s sitting on the navy couch. His leg is bouncing anxiously but immediately stops when he spots me. His jeans hug his muscular thighs in a way that makes my lady bits ache with need. He’s wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the top two buttons left undone. I can see wiry chest hair poking out the top, and I’m dying to know what they feel like under my curious fingers.

  Ho-ly shit. I think my vagina is sweating. Well, no, because that doesn’t sound sexy at all. Hopefully, the roses can combat the smell of sex and desire oozing from my every pore. I think I already need to go back upstairs to change my panties. It’s bound to be a long freaking night.

  Chapter 7

  Hunter

  I would stand up, but I think I’m weak in the knees. Plus, I already have a semi growing and straining in my overly tight pants. Kenzie looks stunning in her thigh-high boots with heels that lift her ass in a tantalizingly way. She’s the picture of innocence on an ordinary day, but the leather skirt she’s wearing says otherwise. To top it off, she’s wearing a heather gray sweater that’s hugging her curvy chest and leaving little to the imagination.

  I’m a fucking goner.

  Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled into a messy bun atop her head, and I just want to tug on it and wrap my fingers through the thick strands. Incessantly staring at her is only making my pants feel tighter. At least she already knows what I’m working with and still wants to go out with me. Not that my hardware is anything to be ashamed of.