To my surprise, there is a full-blown fitness center right here in the middle of campus. The WB gym is warm inside, sticky and sweaty, a primordial soup of sweat and tangible grunts. In other words, it’s pretty disgusting with a capital everything. There are just as many girls draped around the equipment as there are guys. The girls all look immaculate in their matching Lululemon garb, their pretty-in-pink headbands, and long, sleek ponytails. The guys are each red-faced and sweaty, their shirts soaked so thoroughly you could wring them out and fill a bucket if you wanted. And, yet, there’s not a person on Earth who’d want to.
Rush touches his hand to my lower back, and my skin becomes hypersensitive in that area. Honestly, Grant holding my hand the other night nearly left me orgasmic, but with Rush it’s nothing more than a realization that he’s close to me. A few of the Lulu girls glance my way and size me up with this basketball god by my side. I can tell they’re interested in Rush by the way they elongate themselves as we walk on by, the way they crane their necks to get a better look at his tall, beefy eminence. Rush is a fine specimen all on his own. There’s definitely a shallow side of me that gets an ego boost just by hanging out with a good-looking guy like Rush—not that I have much experience in this arena, but at the moment I’m beaming with pride while the rest of the girls turn green with envy.
And that’s when I spot him. There he is among the sweaty, red-faced, soaking wet shirt elite, but for some reason, when Grant is involved, sweaty is suddenly interchangeable with sexy.
“And here he is.” Rush stops at a huge piece of equipment armed with pulleys and straps, and, honestly, it looks as if this entire contraption belongs in a red room where people flog you and drip hot candlewax onto your naked flesh. “Are you missing a little sister?”
Grant stands slowly, his eyes dragging from one end of my face to the other as if he were crossing continents. His eyes latch on to mine and widen as if a wall of fire were coming right at him. His Adam’s apple rises and falls, but that searing gaze of his seals over mine, and for a minute our bond is unbreakable.
“Who is this, and where can I get her number?” He gives a half-hearted attempt at a grin.
“I’ll g-g-gladly give you my number.” God, I’m so stupid. It’s obvious he was being sarcastic. And the stuttering? Cut my tongue off, please.
Rush drops a kiss to my cheek, and my entire body paralyzes with embarrassment. I’m not sure why I’m petrified of public displays of affection—not to mention public displays of affection by someone other than Grant—a part of me equates it with having a bodily function right here in the open.
That conversation with Daisy comes back to me—seventh grade, a sure-fire way to get a boy to notice you is for you to notice someone else.
I glance up at Rush with his ruddy complexion, those laughing eyes. Should I kiss him back? Maybe we should embrace? Instead of utilizing either of those semi-sane options, my fingers clasp on to his chest and engage in a bizarre clawing ritual.
What the hell am I doing and why? My face heats ten times hotter than I ever thought possible. Damn Daisy and her disastrous advice. Doesn’t she know my brain can’t function on all cylinders around this boy?
Rush ticks his head back, unsure of what to make of my catlike gesture, and kisses my hand before pulling me into a quick hug. “I’ll be in the next room with the big boys if you need a real man.” He kicks Grant’s foot out from under him. “Wait, this is your big brother. I guess I don’t have to worry about losing you to this baboon. Take care of my girl, would you?” He takes off, and a crowd of girls giggle in his direction, but as soon as Rush leaves the vicinity, they’re right back to drooling over this boy right here, my rather shocked unofficial, official big bro.
Hisgirl? Wow, this went sideways quickly—or, as Daisy would say,according to plan. She’s doing a great job if she’s trying to hook me up with Rush.
“Um”—I swallow hard, trying to come up with a very good reason for interrupting his bicep building—“actually, I was having trouble with an essay, and I thought you might want to help.” Lame. True in effect, but still so very lame. I’ll have to get Daisy to offer up a tutorial on how to maintain my cool when in the presence of greatness. I blush deeper at the thought. Obviously, I hardly know Grant, but my damn hormones insist on reducing me to a drooling pile of lip gloss.
Grant steps in until his chest is just a breath from mine, and I’m forced to look straight up at that cocky grin of his.
“Who are you, and what did you do with my little sister?”
My lips contort into all sorts of odd shapes before the words decide to come. “Apparently, I’m your little sister’s alter ego—the pole dancing version.” Sort of true, considering where and from whom I received the makeover.
“Eva?” He winces while playing along. If anything, Grant is shaping up to be a good sport.
“More likeEvil. My lashes are made of real human hair, not of my own, and they were meticulously crazy glued onto my lids.” My arms float out to my sides, allowing him to view the entire circus spectacular. “I was about to work on a paper and was subject to a hostile ambush makeover instead. Just ignore the smoke and mirrors.” I glance around at the endless number of girls, all craning their necks toward my newly minted big brother. I’m pretty sure Grant noticed them, too. It’s kind of hard not to with their neon bras and boobs knocking against their chins. Hell, I notice them, and I don’t even want to.
Grant belts out a laugh and drapes his arm over my shoulders. “How about we head to the essay center, and I’ll look at your work. It’s two flights up if you want to head there. I need to hit the shower first, but I’ll be there in fifteen minutes if you want to run over and grab your laptop.”
I don’t hesitate in taking him up on it. I book it all the way to Cutler Tower and back to the essay lab in less than seven minutes—Caila Jace Glam Squad be damned.
True to his word, a freshly scrubbed Grant shows up with his dark hair still soaking wet in thick strands, the scent of soap ripe on his skin, and I die a little at how alarmingly hot he looks fresh from the shower. Every inappropriate thought possible courses through me, heated as lava, and my panties disintegrate from the heat smoldering off him.
“You come here often?” He offers up a wink as he settles in the seat next to me.
“Wow, I bet the girls are never tired of that pick-up line. Do you throw the cheesy wink in to seal the deal?” I pull my laptop out of my bag as we share a laugh. “So, how much do you charge anyway? Let me guess, a Benjamin will land me a perfect A? You realize this is illegal in like fifty different states.”
“You wish. More like a Benjamin for a D—which isn’t a passing grade at the university level.” He knocks his shoulder to mine, and a surge of electricity burns through my right arm. Funny that I didn’t feel anything close to that when Rush all but touched my ass. I swear, it was as if his fingers were on a slow elevator ride down, the way he casually went about it. And that kiss to my cheek? A fly could have landed on my face, and I wouldn’t have known the difference. Nope, not a spark between us, and yet Grant here has merely bumped into me and caused a sexual ruckus in all the right places.
Grant pulls my laptop between us, and his smile drips to nothing. “So, what’s up with Rush?” He frowns into the screen. “If he’s causing problems, I can have him neutered.”
A pulse of excitement thumps through my stomach. Check one for Daisy. Grant looks morbidly pissed at his long-time best friend. Although, I’d hate to cause a rift between them.
“Ha! Good one.” I force a laugh. “Nope, not causing problems.” Daisy swoops through my mind and offers me an imaginary high five. “Actually, I kind of don’t mind having him around.” I shrug as if it were no big deal and open up the Word document I started last night. “He’s seems pretty nice.”
“Nice as a rattlesnake.” Grant shakes his head, his eyes still fixed on my paper as it loads. “There’s no anti-venom for his bite. I wouldn’t get too close, if you know what I mean.”
My heart thumps wild. Daisy Pembrooke is a genius. I’ll personally bow down and polish her Manolos the next time I see her. “Are you telling me I should look out for his bite? You do realize that once you tell your little sister she can’t have something, she’s only going to want it that much more.” That statement in and of itself is true in its entirety, but in this instance, not an iota of it flies. I plan on staying far away from Rush in the sexual sense, but no use in cluing Grant in on that little tidbit. Besides, you can practically see the steam exuding from his ears. And as much as it might suck of me, I’m enjoying this on some level. To have someone of Grant’s caliber worked up in a rage over me is sort of a prize all on its own.
