Chapter 9

chapter nine

Zara

"Dangerously"— Charlie Puth

I f you thought there was anything worse than your older brother walking in on you and the guy you just had sex with who turns out has the biggest dick you've ever seen and fucks like a god but coincidentally is said brother's number one rival… you'd be wrong.

Trust me, I'd know.

And just when I thought the situation couldn't have gone from bad to worse, it absolutely did.

It went from being incredible to being a total shitshow.

I had to physically push Oliver out of my bedroom when he started acting like a complete and utter overbearing asshole. But that wasn't the surprising part.

Obviously, I knew that Davis was a baseball player, but what I didn't know is that he and Oliver hate each other, and their rivalry is a huge issue for the baseball team, causing tensions to run extremely high.

"You're not seeing him again, Zara. I… I forbid it," Oliver barks, rubbing his palm over his jaw at the kitchen island the following morning. "That guy is a fucking asshole and a total womanizer, and I don't want you around him."

I'm running on very little sleep, and honestly, even if I'd had a full eight hours, I still wouldn't want to be dealing with yet another conversation with my brother, who clearly is delusional.

God, is this what my entire four years of college is going to be like? Oliver acting like I'm a petulant child and not respecting any of the boundaries I've set?

"Funny that he's the asshole when you're the one who acted like a complete dick, yet he was perfectly polite to you despite that. And I'm just going to pretend you didn't just say that ‘forbid' comment because you've clearly lost your mind. I'm a grown-ass woman, Oliver. You aren't protecting me—you're smothering me. You're not respecting my boundaries, which I am clearly laying down for you. You're trying to control every aspect of my life, and it's not happening."

His mouth parts in surprise and then snaps shut.

My brow arches.

I never lie down and take his bullshit, but this… this is different. Last night was the last straw.

"You're going to stop dictating my life. Who I'm with, where I'm going. What I wear. It's completely unacceptable and disrespectful that you know I feel this way and you continue to do these things, and then you report back to Dad like you're my handler."

"Look, sure, I might have been a dick last night, but I just walked in on my little sister… doing things I don't even want to think about with a guy I can't fucking stand," he spits, face full of fury, blazing in his eyes.

Hopping down from the barstool, I shake my head, stopping him. "Oliver, I love you. You're my big brother. But stop. Seriously. I don't want to fight with you, but I'm an adult, and I'm going to make my own choices, my own decisions, and my own opinions. I understand that you and Davis have… issues. But that's between you. If I decide to stop seeing him, it's going to be because I wanted to, not because it had anything to do with you. Got it?"

For the first time in his life, my brother's speechless, and I'm feeling much, much better now that I've gotten that off my chest.

Growing up, we were always close. Oliver's only one year older than me, and I was always his little shadow. Wherever he went, I went, and people often mistook us as twins because of our dark hair and matching green eyes. Our parents were always busy with my father's business, and he was always my big brother who took care of me.

But as much as I love him and as close as we've always been, it doesn't give him the right to dictate my life or be an asshole to those I care about.

Does Davis fall under that category?

I reach past him to grab a banana out of the fruit bowl and offer a wide smile. "Nice talk. Gotta run, I'm going to be late for class."

I don't even bother to wait for his response because even if he was going to try and fight with me, it wouldn't matter. I said exactly what needed to be said. What I honestly probably should've already said way before now. Like the time he took out a ruler and measured my skirt like a total psycho.

I texted Davis this morning with the hopes of apologizing, and he agreed to meet me in the quad so we could talk after my musical theory class. I find him sitting on a bench outside of the fine arts building when I walk out of the doors.

He looks absolutely delicious, to absolutely no surprise, wearing a pair of faded jeans with a red OU T-shirt and that backward baseball hat that I'm quickly realizing how much I like.

I love seeing him without a hat and running my fingers through his hair, especially when he's between my thighs, but I love him in the hat almost as much. The ends of his hair curl from beneath it, and when he glances up, a dimpled smile overtakes his face as if he's happy to see me.

"Hi," I breathe as I sink down onto the bench and set my backpack beside me, turning to face him.

Being this close to him, being surrounded by the fresh, woodsy scent of him, already has my senses on overdrive. It's impossible not to think about the last time we were together and how much I want it to happen again.

And again. And again.

"How's your day?" he asks.

I laugh with a shake of my head, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm tired, and I basically told my brother to fuck off and to stop trying to control my life over breakfast this morning. But you know, other than that, it's been great. I texted you to meet me here because I wanted to apologize for the way he acted. So embarrassing, honestly."

"You don't have to apologize for him, Zara. Shit with us is… tense, but it doesn't have anything to do with you," he says.

I nod. "Yeah, but I just didn't like how it went down, and that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. My brother doesn't make decisions for me." I pause, rolling my lips together. "And truthfully? Hanging out with you has been really fun, and if you wanted to continue to see each other, then I'm down. This thing with the two of you is between you two, not between us."

His lip tilts as he lifts a brow and leans closer. "I'm down. Fuck yeah, I'm down."

"And like we said, we keep it casual. No strings attached. Fun ."

"I love fun," he breathes cheekily.

Laughing, I run my fingers along the edge of my leather miniskirt before dragging my gaze back to his. "But I do think we should keep it on the DL? Even though I'm staying out of this whole thing between you two, he's my brother, and as stupid as he can be at times, I love him, and I don't want to make things worse. It would probably make it even more difficult when the season starts. So, I figure it's easier if he doesn't really know we're still hanging out."

Davis nods, his warm honey eyes softening. "I get it. No more fun at your house. You can always come to my apartment. It's not as clean and definitely doesn't smell as good, seeing as how I live with a bunch of sweaty assholes, but you don't have to worry about sneaking out of any windows."

"God, you're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope." He grins, reaching for my hand, and threads his fingers in mine. The pad of his thumb sweeps over the tattoos on my fingers, something he seems to like to do since he's done it so much since the night we met. "I've got to get to class, and I've got a pitching session right after, but come over later? Honestly, I can't cook for shit, but I can order Jack's? Maybe we can watch Netflix or something."

"Jesus, Loverboy, did you just try to Netflix and chill me?"

A laugh rumbles from his chest. "God, you're such a fucking brat." A beat passes, and he leans in, ghosting his lips along mine, inhaling. "Tell me why I like it so much?"

"Because you like trouble."

"Mhmm," he hums. "Seems like I've got a thing for it. I think I told you what I was going to do to see if you'd still be a brat. I'll see you tonight. Wear the lipstick, Trouble."

Shit.

I clench my thighs together as he presses a hot, lingering kiss against my lips and then rises to his feet. He picks up his backpack off the sidewalk, shoots me a wink, then strides off, leaving my heart racing and anticipation surging through my body.

Davis's apartment is just outside of fraternity row, in a building that's original to campus. Obviously, it's older, but it has a certain charm that a lot of the new construction places lack.

It's cute, and quaint, and not at all what you would expect a group of college athletes to live in, but I'm pleasantly surprised by how clean and tidy everything is.

"I like your house," I tease, repeating his words back to him from the night at my house.

When he doesn't respond, I drag my attention to where he's standing, leaned against the doorframe, his gaze hungrily running down my body in an unhurried perusal.

"Fuck, Trouble, you can't come over here wearing that," he murmurs, crossing the distance between us in a few steps. "I don't wanna have to fight my roommates."

I laugh and shake my head with an eye roll.

I'm not wearing anything special, just an old pair of shorts that used to be baggy jeans until I cut them up and a black babydoll crop top with an old pair of Nikes.

Definitely not as sexy as the night we met, but I guess he likes me dressed down just as much.

"No fighting."

He smirks, dipping his shoulder. "No promises." Sliding an arm around my waist, he pulls me to him and hugs me.

A lingering hug that feels far more intimate than it should.

I clear my throat and step back. "So, where are these roommates?"

"A party, I think? Who knows, honestly."

"And you didn't feel like a party tonight? Parties are… fun."

Another shrug. "I try not to go out on a weeknight because my schedule is always so packed, and it's hard to juggle it all. Plus… last year, I got into a bit of trouble. Drinking too much, people posting pictures on social media. My coach had my ass, so I'm trying to stay straight this year."

Now, this, I can see. Davis seems to be the kind of guy who walks into a room and commands attention. He's the life of a party. The charming, infectious guy. And I can absolutely see why he's got the playboy reputation.

"Ah, but trouble seems to find you, clearly."

Laughing, he drags a hand over his jaw and nods. "Obviously, so that's why you're here. But, you know." He steps closer, sliding a palm over my hip and tugging me closer. "I think you're the kinda trouble that's worth it."

"Glad to hear it, Loverboy." I lift on my tiptoes and give him a quick kiss before stepping back and walking around his apartment, taking it all in.

It's clean and pretty basic, but at the same time, it feels like a home and not a party place, which is pretty common for college housing.

"I was going to order takeout tonight, but I had a better idea. You up for going somewhere instead?"

"Sure."

An hour later, we're sitting on his tailgate in the parking lot of my favorite breakfast diner, talking about everything and nothing at all, and it's… nice.

There are a lot of ways to a girl's heart, but to mine specifically ?

Good taste in music, a new tattoo, or, in this case, a stack of double chocolate chip pancakes with extra whip cream.

And somehow, my favorite pancakes are inherently better when I'm sharing them with Davis Guidry.

Turns out my favorite chocolatey goodness is even better when I get them with a side of him. The guy with the bourbon eyes, chiseled jaw, and dimpled grin is nothing like I thought he'd be. He's not just stupidly handsome; he's funny, charming, and surprisingly sweet.

A lethal combination.

Our shoulders brush together when he throws his head back and laughs at one of my cheesy jokes, a delicious, deep, raspy sound that makes my stomach flip and my core clench at the same time.

"You know, watching you put down all those pancakes was possibly the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Honestly, this was the last place I expected him to take me, but it was a pleasant surprise. There's nothing better than pancakes for dinner, and we've spent the last hour laughing and getting to know each other… outside of the insane sexual chemistry we seem to share.

And I'm realizing how many things we actually have in common. How we both love trashy reality TV, '90s alternative, and sleeping in.

"What can I say? I have a healthy appetite."

He laughs with a nod. "Most girls are weird around guys when it comes to eating, or at least that's been my experience. To me, there's nothing sexier than a girl who eats. Cheeseburgers, pancakes, whatever. Fuck nothing but chicken and salad all the time."

"Nope, sorry. Not me." I shake my head. "I'm never passing up food if I'm hungry. And definitely not chocolate chip pancakes from Magnolia's. But I'm kinda surprised you ate them with all the syrup. My brother is so weird about everything he eats. Because of baseball, I guess?"

Davis nods. "Yeah. It's ninety-ten for me. Ninety percent of the time, I eat clean. I eat my protein, watch my sugar and carb intake. Follow the team dietician's plan. But then there's that ten percent where I indulge in stuff and allow myself to have something I'm craving. I make sure to keep up my workouts and not skip days even when I'm not eating a hundred percent clean." He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt and lifts, exposing his six-pack, shrugging. "I think it's working out."

I laugh. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Clearly, he has no issue with keeping his body looking the way that it does. He's got muscles in places that I literally do not even know how to pronounce, and every time I see them, my brain goes hazy for a few seconds.

Davis Guidry is the epitome of the female gaze.

"Gotta stop looking at me like that, babe."

Whoops. "Like what?" I ask, feigning innocence.

His lip curves into a lazy grin. "Like you want a repeat of your bedroom right in this parking lot."

We stay on the tailgate of his truck for what feels like hours talking, and I don't even realize how much time has passed until I'm yawning and my eyes have become heavy.

Davis notices and glances down at his watch, eyes widening. "Shit, we've been out here for two hours."

"I guess we got lost talking. You're easy to talk to, Loverboy, and honestly, I'll admit I'm surprised by how many things we actually have in common."

"You mean, besides how much we like to fuck each other?" he tests, his voice low and raspy. "Because I think that's something we're really good at together."

I roll my eyes, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Seriously though, I just guess I didn't think that this"—I use my hand to gesture between us—"would require talking to each other or I guess…"

"Being friends?" he interjects, and I nod.

"Yeah."

"I told you I'm a likable guy, Trouble. It's impossible to not want to be my friend." His cocky smirk makes his dimples pop, and my heart does that thing where it flips and makes me breathless.

I should not be so affected by him, but he's right. He's impossible not to like, especially now that I know things about him. Like that his mom is his best friend, and he has a little brother who he FaceTimes every week and they watch The Big Bang Theory together. And how he keeps asking about my music, like those things are important to him. Those things make him more than just a hookup that leaves once it's over. It makes him more real.

"Mmm, I dunno. Jury's still out on that."

"Just give it time, babe. It's inevitable."

But… the truth is I don't need to give it any time because I already know just how likable he is, and that's what scares me the most.