I’m frozen, unable to move. It has been a while since I’ve seen him like this. Our games with each other had devolved into nothing more than quick teases. We always push each other in a back and forth, but lately we have always stopped before one of us gave in. That’s what this whole bet is about. In a certain kind of way, it feels like he’s claimed his prize before he’s even won.
It makes me want to win that much more, and now that I’ve positioned Cece firmly in his crosshairs, my path to victory has become easier.
Brick reaches his hand out to me, and a vulnerable smile hitches across his lips. “Stay with me.”
I know I shouldn’t, but knowing something isn’t the same as being able to act on it. “Only if you promise to keep your cock to yourself,” I say half-jokingly.
He looks away, pondering my request. “I reluctantly promise.” He holds his arms out, as if he’s waiting for me to crawl into them. I climb into bed and lay on my stomach. I place my head on a pillow and stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows that form three of the four bedroom walls.
Brick follows suit and plops his head down onto the pillow beside me. “There’s something on your mind.”
Believe it or not, but Brick has a caring side. I think it begins and ends with me. I’m his proudest accomplishment and his biggest prize, but underneath all the bullshit, he understands me. I understand him. We’re two of a fucked-up kind.
“Tell me,” he continues, and rests his eyes on the city in front of us.
“Do you ever get tired of playing these games?”
“No,” is his reply. Short, simple and to the point.
“Do you think we’re terrible people?”
“I think…” He sighs. “I think it doesn’t matter. We are who we are. Ain’t no use in comparing us to anybody else.”
“What about karma?” I look to him, but he’s too lost in the cityscape to look back.
“What about it?”
“Do you believe in that?”
“Sweetie, we are karma. We’re just a step ahead of the curve. We don’t wait to be fucked over, and that makes us smarter than the rest of the sheep that walk this world.” He rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, like it’s easier to talk to a wall than it is to talk to a window where the rest of the world can see in. “Our hearts are protected for a reason, and look at us. We’re doing great while the rest of the world drowns under the weight of their emotions. We’re not about that life.” He takes a short, contemplative pause. “We never will be.”
10
Cherry-red lipstick? Check.
Black heels? Check.
Grey skirt, cut just below the knee? Check.
White blouse with the cutest black buttons undone in all the wrong places? Check.
When work attire is lingerie, stepping into the wardrobe of a young professional is a daunting task. It’s an odd feeling, hearing my heels click across the shiny floors of Davidson Hall. With each click, I’m overwhelmed with a new and different sense of power—one that exists outside the confines of a bedroom.
A pair of glasses hang around my neck, taking refuge in the folds of my cleavage. I lift the glasses and place them in position so that they rest on the edge of my nose. This is about to be the easiest seduction I have ever pulled.
I straighten myself out and prepare myself mentally for the challenge ahead. When I’m feeling my most confident, I reach for the handle and rip the door to lecture hall 204 open.
Shit.
Imagine the horror of walking into a lecture hall full of students while dressed up in your sluttiest Halloween attire. That’s how I feel right now as my cheeks flush every shade of red to the tune of matching my lipstick. All eyes are on me, and the silence is deafening.
I hear Jensen clear his throat from the desk that sits idle to the front of the gargantuan room.
He’s visually unhappy, shaking his head in disdain as I slowly approach him, taking quick snapshots of the students around me. I take notice of a few men in particular. Previous victims of mine who were unfortunate enough to climb into my web of deceit.
After what feels like forever, I finally reach Jensen and turn my back to the crowd. “I thought this was going to be a one-on-one thing.”
“Really?” he shoots back in a muffled whisper. “That’s interesting. I didn’t realize I was hiring a prostitute.”
“That’s a little sexist—“
“You look like you’ve shown up for a live, demonstrative reading of Fifty Shades of Grey.” He purses his lips tightly. “It is not sexist to point that out.”
“What was I supposed to wear?” I ask, shifting gears. My fast track plan to seducing him has come to a screeching halt, and it looks like I’m back on the long, drawn out, look at me, I’m innocent and clueless, track.
He grabs my arm and nudges me toward the door. My heels clatter against the floor as he follows me into the hallway. He shuts the door behind us and cranes his neck down both sides of the hallway, ensuring nobody is watching.
“You look good,” he says, “but I’m going to need you to lose the glasses and button up about five of those buttons.”
I look down at my cleavage and think, yeah, five buttons was overdoing it. “I have a reputation to maintain,” I scoff. “Three buttons at most.”
“Five unless you want to walk those heels on home.”
“Fine,” I grumble and begin the arduous process of buttoning up.
He runs his thumb across his pink, bitable lips and nods in approval—there’s a reason he’s a prime piece of meat within the co-ed circles, and those lips are a major selling point. “Now, lets go back inside the classroom.” He opens the door, and this time it’s me following him. “Attention,” he projects his voice so the entire lecture hall can hear him, “as you all know, my former assistant is no longer with us.” He gestures toward me with his hand. “I would like to introduce you all to my new assistant, Apple Malloy.”
I smile, playing the role of the dutiful wife of a presidential candidate. I even throw my hand up and wave, a callback to the long-gone days of Apple Malloy, runner up to the pageant crown.
If I thought attending class—even class with a steaming stallion of a professor—as a student was tedious and boring, then I don’t know what the fuck I would call the last two hours. If boredom could kill…
I didn’t partake in any teacher-y activities. I didn’t grade papers or take attendance. I didn’t offer my skills as an instructor to a class of hungover undergrads. I also didn’t finger myself while I was hidden behind Jensen’s desk, although the thought certainly crossed my numb mind.
I yawn as the last of the students exit the lecture hall, and take silent glee in the fact I’ll soon be able to drive home and get some real work done. I don’t see myself gaining too much traction with Mr. Jensen Moon in a workplace setting.
“Come on,” Jensen says to me and taps me on the shoulder. “We need to relocate to my office.”
“What?” I spin around in my chair. “I thought this was all the work we were doing today.”
“A two hour lecture?” He shakes his head and smiles. “And to be fair, you didn’t actually do anything.”
I force a fake, exhausted exhale and rise to my feet. “Unfortunately, I have class at four.”
He gives me a serious case of the side-eye. “Principles of Social Marketing? The same class you haven’t showed up to for the past month?”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“I sneaked a peek at your transcripts.” His voice remains steady, but his sly smile is screaming, I win.
“I’ve been really sick lately…”
“Just admit it’s an elective.” He grabs a stack of papers in one hand and waves them in the air. “It’s not required for graduation and you don’t give two shits about it.”