Page 7 of One Bet

One Decade Ago

Susie tossed me a bottle of spray paint, she had neon-glow orange, and mine was flamingo pink, I could feel her anger vibrating around us as loudly as the little metal balls in our cans of paint. By morning, so long as we didn’t end up in jail, the Alphas would know exactly what Susie thought about them. Although, I wouldn’t have minded knowing why I was risking my scholarship, bail money I didn’t have, a date I desperately wanted to get and wouldn’t if I was caught, not to mention a coating of bright pink blowback for a bunch of guys who wouldn’t give a shit anyway if we painted the story of the frat’s whole sordid past on their house.

Susie hunched behind the bushes and peeked out like she’d taken 007 classes this semester instead of Art Appreciation. She held out her arm to keep me from moving around her where we could be seen. “There’s still a light on.”

It was almost four a.m., and I had an eight o’clock class. I swatted away hair I didn’t have anymore and tried to straighten my cramping legs. “Why are we doing this again?”

She looked at me over her shoulder, and even in the dark of night, I could see the fury in her big brown eyes. Her voice sharpened. “Those fucking Alphas are going to pay.”

Not that I didn’t think they weren’t mostly a bunch of self-important assholes, but clarification never hurt either. “What happened?”

“I went out with…one of them.” Names, I wanted names, mostly out of curiosity. “And the son of a bitch video recorded the whole thing. As I was leaving, walking out of the Alpha house, they had it playing on the TVs in their house and they were all laughing like I was some kind of joke.”

I wanted to be a good friend, sympathetic, at least, but my mind was spinning with images of Ryder. What if it was him? Or Keaton?

“What did you do?” It wasn’t like I couldn’t infer the details, but anything that made a girl who once upon a time only believed in peace and love go full-on graffiti-hate had to be a good story.

“I couldn’t do anything but leave. I was just…devastated. I mean, we went on three dates, not really dates, more like meet-ups.” She emphasized the word as if it was its own language. “But they were classy, you know? I didn’t feel like he was just trying to get into my pants. It was always imported beer and gourmet picnics, never out in public, though, always on that damned boat. So, the night of the third date, we’re back on the boat, of course, and it’s beautiful. A crystal chandelier, flowers, and chilled champagne. We kissed in the moonlight, made love on the deck, then he asked me to spend the night with him, but he had practice in the morning so could we go back to the frat house. Of course, I said yeah.” She gave me a wide-eyed can-you-believe-this-shit look. And frankly, I didn’t know what to think. “So, he took me to the frat house through this private entrance.”

She paused and breathed in deep so her nostrils flared and her jaw hardened. “When it was over, he got up and went for food, another one of those other bastards came in, told me not to worry, he didn’t do sloppy seconds. Instead, he opened the drawer next to the bed, grabbed a twenty, and tossed it to me. Told me it was cab fare.” She shook her head, her mouth thinned as she glared at me. “I couldn’t get out the door we came in. I had to do the walk of shame through the house while all his friends laughed. The worst part, well aside from the way he used me and threw me out part of the night, was all my moans were at top volume. Then for a week, I had to see the hickeys he marked me with.”

Oh, God. My stomach ached for her pain, for the embarrassment, for what they’d put her through, I couldn’t even imagine.

But Susie wasn’t done with her tale. “When I called him later, he didn’t even take my call but had one of the other guys call me back to spew his threats. Said if I didn’t shut up and go away, he’d make sure I went viral.” She shook her can of paint and the ball-bearing inside rattled against the can. “I’ll show these fuckers a scene.”

“Susie…maybe we should…” Should what? Without the video, we couldn’t prove anything and I didn’t see them letting us in to do our own search for the incriminating evidence. Besides, these guys practically walked on water at Glouster. And I didn’t have a rich daddy paying for my education so that I could switch schools if I got kicked out of this one for spraying graffiti on the front of a university-owned building. “Maybe call someone instead of painting the house.”

A guidance counselor? The dean?

She took it as a fear for her, rather than my selfish wish to stay in school.

“I’m not afraid of him.” She cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “Just because he has a big dick doesn’t mean he knows what to do with it, know what I mean?”

She turned back to watch the house.

And for clarity, no, I didn’t know what she meant. I hadn’t done more than a little making out. Girls who looked like me didn’t get a lot of dates that ended with more than a wave and a fake promise to call. But, with Keaton’s help, that would all change and I was going to end up with Ryder.

6

Keaton

Some things never change; Hilly’s was one of those things. Same polished wood bar, scarred wood floors, stained wood walls, a tinder box of memories.

I taught Avery to dance here, or maybe she taught me. Her way had been more fun, anyway, if I closed my eyes, sometimes I could still feel her against me. Still smell her shampoo, still hear her soft breaths. Even after all these years.

I motioned to the bartender for another beer and tried not to think of Avery. But the creak of the arched door, old wood, older hinges, announced new arrivals, and I caught her reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

The adult version of her, long light brown hair, a conservative dress that hid the delectable tattoos I’d, once upon a time, traced with my finger then my tongue, downplayed sexuality that even her buttoned collars couldn’t hide. It still affected me like I hadn’t quite escaped puberty, I wanted her. Probably would never stop wanting her.

And damned if I could sit at the bar with my back to her when she was so close. I spun on my barstool, frosty mug in one hand, back against the brass rail that lined the counter. Oh, yeah. I was still the Keaton Shaw, laidback, friendly, confident.

Right up to the second she glanced up and our eyes met, and a thrill of electricity short-circuited my brain. I tried to wave with the hand holding the mug because apparently confident and laidback Keaton knew nothing about how liquids worked when their container tipped sideways. Stupid Keaton knew it now as beer poured from mug to lap.

Back in the day, I’d been smooth, cool, a guy with moves. Now, I had autumn ale soaking through from denim to underwear. But I also had Avery just a few measly feet away, biting her lip to keep from laughing, failing, and a giggle bubbled out of her as she made her way toward me.

She crossed her arms. “I might not be the league MVP, so if this is a new way to consume beer, well done, but maybe you should consider rubber pants until you get the hang of it.”

I could have said my dick was thirsty, but I smiled because the only thing I wanted to say was how good she looked, how much I wanted to sit at a quiet table with her and catch up. I was dying to tell her that the two weeks I spent with her were the best I’d ever had and more than anything, I wanted to apologize, to make things right between us.