Page 24 of Cruel Devil
Keep it? I'm not sure it's even legal to wear. Not in public at least. What I thought was a sleek black one piece is really lingerie pretending to be a swimsuit. The front has a plunging neckline that goes down past my navel, exposing the top of my crotch—thank god I got waxed last week. Holding the two sides in place is a series of crisscross ties that lace up the entire front until they reach my neck where they tie like a halter top in the back. The material over my boobs barely covers my nipples, so I have an insane amount of cleavage, and the back is virtually non-existent. My entire back is on display and half my ass hangs out of the teeny tiny bottoms, giving me a persistent wedgie.
"Stop adjusting everything," Quinn chides, smacking my hand away as she tugs my bottoms up, not down, exposing even more of my ass. "It's supposed to be like this."
I gawk at her. “I'm almost naked. Actually, I think this is more provocative than being naked."
Her smile is wide. "I know, right? Now let's go get wasted! It's Friday night and you've been here a week already. It's time to let loose."
Before I can object, she is literally dragging me out of the bathroom. "Quinn. Stop."
Does she? Of course not. And who would have guessed that my five-foot-four sorority sister was this strong. We're back at the door and not giving me any time to prepare myself, she swings it wide open and shouts, "Time for Jell-O shots, bitches!"
The girls outside laugh and cheer, and then with all the confidence in the world, Quinn heads for the table where said Jell-O shots are lined up in a rainbow of colors. Several of my sorority sisters move to follow her, everyone barely dressed in a multitude of swim attire.
I get a few heated stares from some of the guys and ignore them as I head for an empty chair by the pool where I spot some sunscreen. I'm blond-haired, blue-eyed, and so white that my friend Monique jokes that instead of tanning, I turn translucent.
A joke, obviously, but she isn't far off. I was cursed with zero melanin, so the sun and I have never exactly been friends. Growing up in the summer I would tell Aaron he was born selfish since he stole it all from our mom before I even had a chance. So unfair. A few hours outdoors and he turns a golden color that makes him look like a modern-day Apollo. Meanwhile, I go from white to pink to red in a matter of minutes if I don't slather myself at least in SPF80.
After squirting some sunscreen in my hands, I massage it into my arms and legs when a shadow falls over me, blocking out some of the harsh rays from the sun.
"Want me to get your back?" A masculine voice asks, and I turn to find Deacon behind me, beer in hand and a hesitant smile on his face.
"Oh, hey. What are you doing here?" I ask, and lift a hand over my over my eyes to see him better. He's wearing black swim shorts and no shirt, and has on mirrored sunglasses so I can't make out his eyes.
"I'm in Alpha Ze,” he tells me.
"Ah, it all makes sense now."
He tilts his head to the side.
"What does?"
"That cocky charismatic charm of yours that you're able to flip on and off whenever you like. Nice chatting this week, by the way. Coffee was great," I tell him and he grimaces. After we ran into each other I thought, I don't know, that we'd actually try the whole friend thing, but I guess when he realized he'd be stuck in the friend zone he didn't want to waste his time.
We never talked after that day and in class he wouldn't even look at me. If he wanted me to get the hint, I heard him loud and clear. I just wish he wasn't such an asshole about it. I don't understand why guys can't just be friends with a girl. Why does it always have to be something else?
"About that," he rubs the back of his neck and is silent for a beat before dropping down on the lounge beside me.
Chapter Eleven
Deacon massages his throat and I get the feeling he's working his way up to telling me something I’m not going to like to hear. When the seconds turn into minutes, I shift my focus back to applying my sunscreen. Seriously, if I don't, I will fry.
"I didn't mean to ghost you."
I put a little lotion on two fingers and massage it through the crisscross ties running down the front of the suit. I look ridiculous doing it but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.
"So why did you?" I ask. My feelings aren’t hurt by it, to be honest. I have plenty of friends and I’m not actively searching for more. I guess I mostly just find it annoying. I don’t get why guys only see value in women if there's a chance of them getting laid. It’s bullshit if you ask me.
“Look, I don’t want to cause drama and shit.”
I wait. I don’t know what he’s looking for from me, but I’m not going to help him out here. He approached me, so if this is going to be an issue—him talking to me—he’s just as welcome to walk away.
“A few of the guys on the team aren’t cool with the idea of us hanging out,” he tells me and I stiffen. Dammit. Because, of course, Dominique didn’t forget about the bruise after he left the classroom. I mean, he had no problem forgetting, but not Deacon. Not when it gave him the opportunity to be an even bigger asshole.
I grind my teeth together and ask, “Was it all three of them?” If it was, then I have three Devils to get back at instead of just the one.
Deacon shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” He pauses. “Not in the beginning at least. I think only my QB had a problem with it, but those three are tight—“
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”
