“Hey.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and my entire body demands to mold to his, so I do. “I’m glad you’re here.” Bryson smells like soap, mountain fresh with a hint of mint. I glance up at him as his eyes pull along my features slowly with a strangled angst that I can’t quite categorize. “Laney was pretty darn glad you were here last week to help out, too. Speaking of which, are you up for catching some hours tonight? I’m working at the Sky Bar. Same drill, less skill.” He twists his lips, and my stomach pinches with heat. God knows I don’t have any skills when it comes to the opposite gender, but I’d love for him to teach me.
“Yes.” I practically accost him in the process by wrapping my arms around him tight. “I mean”—I take a step back, trying to play it cool—“that’s totally fine.”
“Great. Now let’s get to the task of nourishing you so you can last until three in the morning.” His arm slinks down to my waist and leaves a line of fire in its wake. “Oh”—he puts his hands in the air like a thief—“sorry.”
A bus hisses down the street, and my hair flies up like a thousand little snakes from the gust of wind, but I can’t break my gaze from Bryson and those gorgeous pebble blue eyes. A smile tugs at his lips, but he won’t give it and my heart wrenches.
“I’m not sorry,” it comes out barely a whisper. I’m sure he didn’t hear, but a part of me wishes he did—that he wasn’t sorry either.
“You want to go for a ride?” He motions to the sea of bicycles tethered to the front of the building. “I mean, I know you mentioned your dad rode, and I totally get it if you don’t want to, I just thought—” Bryson lets his words hang in the air. He runs his tongue over his lips, quick as lightning, as if he didn’t know what else to do with himself. My arms beg to fit themselves around his body. He’s watching me again in that deep knowable way that suggests he’s peeling back my skin to see what’s really underneath, and my face burns with heat.
“I’d love to go for a ride. In fact, that’s exactly what I’m saving my tips for—a shiny new bike.” My throat goes dry, so I clear it. “Well, maybe not so shiny since it’ll most likely come from the nearest thrift shop, but it’ll be new to me.”
“You may not have to save as much as you think.” He breaks out in a slow-spreading grin and leads me over to a pair of bikes, before unleashing them both from their chains.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to have all of Alphi Chi after me for bike theft?”
“You won’t.” He tweaks his brows like he’s flirting, and my insides do a cartwheel. “It’s your brother’s. He hardly uses it. He prefers his penny board when it comes to cruising campus. Besides, if he reports it missing, you won’t do much time behind bars—three, four months tops.”
“Nice.” I smack him over the shoulder. “Bike theft, huh? I had a feeling you were a bad boy.” My eyes widen as he pauses to look at me, and for a second I think I’ve crossed some invisible line.
“I am a bad boy.” He hops on his bike, and I do the same. “That’s exactly why you should stay far, far away from me.” His chin dips, his eyes cloud over like maybe he means it.
“Be quiet and feed me.” I laugh as he leads the way.
We peddle out past the university, past the row of Greek mansions with their boxy chic exteriors, their well-manicured lawns, and over to a rundown strip mall that’s badly in need of a paint job.
Bryson points over to a donut shop, and I give an eager nod because everyone knows that donuts and coffee are the breakfast of champions.
“You mind if I run in and grab it to go?” He gives a sheepish smile as he climbs off his bike. “There’s someplace I’d like to take you.”
“Not at all.” My heart thumps at the thought of where this mysterious place might be. And by “take you” I’m hoping he means sexually. Bryson has girls for breakfast lunch, and dinner, I don’t see why I should be off the menu. If those tally marks attest to anything it’s that his penis isn’t all that picky.
“Any requests?”
“Chocolate,” I shout as he starts to head in. “Oh—and throw in a jelly filled!” I should have said cream filled and got his wheels turning.
A rise of heat filters through me as I give a casual nod, but everything about this feels anything but casual. God—it actually feels like adate. I should write Jeanie a thank you note—or, more specifically, her insatiable vagina, although I doubt either of them would know who sent it.
Bryson reappears in record time, and I follow him out as a soft haze fills the streets.
A sign appears that reads,Welcome to Hollow Brookas the city turns decidedly rural, and strip malls are replaced with dense emerald pines. The air cools as we ride to higher elevations. My thighs called it quits about ten minutes ago, but my lips won’t let the protest fly as I soldier on right behind Bryson.
He pulls us off onto a dirt path, and we head into a clearing that opens to a cloud of vapors emitting from a tiny pool of water. It’s partially hidden behind a series of boulders, and it looks like a dream, a fairytale.
“What is this place?” I try to not to sound so out of breath as I park my bike alongside his. My legs feel like rubber as I walk over to admire the view. If Brysondidwant to have his way with me, I might collapse and lay there like a corpse. Not exactly the way I envisioned losing my virginity.
“The Witch’s Cauldron.”
We take a seat on the lowest boulder overlooking the aquamarine spring, the perfect size of a hot tub, and Bryson pulls me in by the waist. My breathing ceases. Dear God, hediddrag me out into the middle of nowhere just so he could have his way with me!
“Wow”—I clear my throat—“it’s so amazingly beautiful.” I gaze into the tiny pool as a layer of mist wafts over the surface.
“It is beautiful.” His hand grazes mine as he passes me a cup of coffee, and my entire body breaks out in a fit of perspiration. “So are you.”
I suck in a quick breath and hold it. I’ve never had that kind of a compliment before, certainly not from a sex god like Bryson. Although, he did already add a tally mark to his wall this morning. Maybe he’s going for double or nothing? With my luck he’s still on autopilot, and the compliments are just a part of the carnal package.
“Thank you.” I take a sip of coffee only to burn the tip of my tongue. “You don’t have to practice your pick up lines around me.” I land my hand over his arm to push him off but don’t have the will to do it. “I’m not really in your league.” I glance down at the rim of my coffee, embarrassed by my admission, true as it might be.
