Chapter 5

5

GRACE

“ S o, where did you go?” Lila asks. “I felt bad about leaving and came looking for you.”

I’m sitting at a table in the student union, still marveling over the kiss I shared with Griffin last night, as Lila drops into the chair across the table from me. I know it’s not possible, but my lips are still tingling, and I imagine I can still smell the musky aroma of his aftershave. My skin still burns where his hands were on my arms, making me quiver. The memories have been flashing through my mind all day like some erotic highlight reel, and as a result, I’ve got another pair of panties that have been soaked through.

“I found my own way back to the dorm,” I say simply.

“I can see that,” she says. “But where were you? Chris and I searched the entire place.”

“You said you were going home with Chris. Did you really expect me to wait around on the off-chance you came back for me?” I growl.

She must hear the anger in my voice because her expression and demeanor both soften almost immediately. Lila offers me a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, babe. I really am. I got caught up in Chris and made a stupid decision. I did feel bad and came back,” she says. “Will you forgive me? Pretty please? With sugar on top?”

As much as I’d like to, I can never seem to stay mad at Lila. Not even when she deserves it. As if sensing my weakness, Lila dashes around the table and throws her arms around me, squeezing me tight as she plants a bunch of sloppy kisses on my cheek.

“Please forgive me, Gracie. Pretty, pretty, pretty please!”

I giggle wildly and push her away. “Get off me, you freak!”

“I will if you forgive me.”

“Fine,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “You’re forgiven. Again.”

“You’re the best,” she says as she retakes her seat.

I pick at my scone and pop a piece into my mouth. “So? How did things go with the boy?”

She shrugs. “I don’t think I’m going to be seeing him again.”

“No? You sure put a lot of effort into snagging him. What happened?”

“I discovered that he might be pretty, but he doesn’t have a lot going on between his ears,” she says. “He’s also horrible in bed. I mean, like all time horrible.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I’ve nicknamed him the Minuteman if that helps.”

“Ouch.”

“I’d barely gotten my panties off before he was done.”

I can’t help but laugh. Lila is so open and uninhibited about her sexual exploits. She always tells me we’re only young once and should sample everything from the buffet of life before we go out into the world, get married, and settle into our inevitable old, fuddy-duddy-dom, as she calls it. In some ways, I wish I could be like her. I wish I could be as free to explore and experiment. My self-repression is inherited from my family, who was about as uptight as a pack of nuns on Good Sunday. So, I may be inhibited, but I come by it honestly.

“Well, I’m sorry he didn’t turn out to be all you’d hoped for,” I say.

“Eh. There will be others.”

“There always are.”

Lila casts a sly glance at me. “So? Are you going to tell me what you got up to last night?”

I’m trying so hard to keep the smile from my lips, but I can tell by the expression on Lila’s face that the flush in my cheeks is giving me away. More than that, she’s not saying something. She looks like a girl with a secret, and she’s dying to spill it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing,” she says in a sing-song voice. “But is there something you want to tell me?”

I turn away, unable to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” she asks, raising her eyebrow at me. “Then why do I have people telling me they saw you with some guy’s tongue down your throat last night?”

I bury my face in my hands, trying to stifle my giggle. Lila is delighted and grabs hold of my hands, pulling them down, making me look at her.

“Who was he?” she presses. “Come on. Tell me.”

Still giggling and unable to speak, I shake my head. It only seems to encourage Lila more because she keeps pressing me to tell her as she laughs along with me.

“Come on, babe,” she urges. “Tell me. Who is this mystery man?”

I’m mortified, but part of me wants to tell her. Part of me wants to share my experience with my best friend. I mean, if I can’t share it with her, who can I share it with?

“It was Griffin Harris,” I blurt out.

Her eyes grow so wide, she looks like a cartoon character, making me laugh. She grips my hands and leans in close.

“The fighter from last night?” she asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Him.”

“Oh my God, you slut. I love it,” she cries. “Tell me everything.”

And so, I do. I tell her everything from the moment I stumbled into the locker room to the second I left him outside the door. I don’t spare any details. Okay, well, maybe I didn’t tell her I had to immediately wring out my panties when I got back to our room, but I told her everything else.

“Babe, that is amazing,” she says. “I’m so proud of you. You’re finally taking my advice, having some fun, and enjoying the bounty this world has to offer. And let me just say, you picked a delicious morsel to start with. That is one hot man. What I want to know is why didn’t you bring him back up to the room and bang him within an inch of his life?”

My cheeks are burning, and I’m sure it’s a shade of red not normally found in nature. “I couldn’t do that. You’re crazy.”

“Why not?”

“Because, for one thing, we’ve got the RA from hell, and I wouldn’t have ever gotten him up there in the first place.”

“Well, that’s true,” she admits. “Why didn’t you just go back to his place?”

“I was in shock that he kissed me and wasn’t exactly thinking clearly,” I say with a laugh.

“Excuses, excuses, babe,” she says. “You’re never going to get laid if you don’t grab the bull by the horns. Or should I say, grab the fighter by the balls?”

I shriek with laughter. “You are horrible!”

“That’s why you love me.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. You’re going to see him again, right?”

“I gave him my number.”

“I guess that’s something. You should have given him your panties as a promissory note or something, though,” she teases.

We laugh together, and though I’m still kind of embarrassed about it all, I’m also kind of happy it happened. And it feels good to share it with Lila, even with her wildly inappropriate commentary. As I sit back in my chair, I happen to catch sight of Professor Bryson. He’s sitting a few tables away and is staring directly at me, sending a chill down my spine.

“Oh God,” I say and turn away quickly.

“What is it?” Lila asks.

“Don’t turn around, but Professor Bryson is just over there, and he’s staring at me.”

“That man has a real thing for you.”

“It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“You should go to the department chair about him,” Lila offers. “Or if not him, the Dean.”

“I don’t want to create problems.”

“It might be the only way you can get him to leave you alone.”

“If he gets worse or does something more, I will. Right now, I just want to get through the semester without causing any trouble.”

Lila grabs both our bags, then my hand, and yanks me to my feet. Holding onto my hand, she gives me a grin and then hustles me out of the student union and away from the unwanted gaze of my professor.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Back to the dorm,” she says as we dash across the quad. “You still have a lot more to tell me about your little tryst, and I’m going to give you some advice for getting that man into bed.”

“Oh, dear God,” I say, laughing so hard my sides hurt.