Two-TimingTwosome
Harper
Knox Toberman is aphilistine.
“Say that again. I dare you.” I glare at his muscular frame as if it offended me, and believe me, on some intrinsic level, everything about Knox offends me. He’s your typical smug jock with a body that makes all the girls’ heads spin exorcist style, but for some reason the only visceral reaction he invokes in me is the urge to spew green vomit at a high-speedtrajectory.
His dark brows pinch in a hard V as if he were having the very same thoughts about me. “I said, I think it’s a little much to have to look up and see a couple fucking while eating your breakfastcereal.”
A heavy groan works up my throat. “First of all, they are notfuckingas you so indelicately put it. They’remaking love—a concept that is apparently foreign to you—hence the name of the piece.” I point up at the plaque beneath the gorgeous oil painting in question that now sits prominently in the dining room of Kappa Gamma Gamma, the sorority my friends and I have just finished moving into. It’s the night of the Kappa G, Beta Kappa Phi’s official first summer mixer, thus the presence of the vulgar barbarian standing before me. It’s also the night of the charity auction set to help the Greeks who live on The Row put in a new green belt along the sidewalks in lieu of the asparagus plant thistles that bloomed and had to be weeded. I for one am thrilled they’re gone after having my ankles gnawed on by their thorny claws while trying to cross the street. The boys are gunning for ivy to fill those dirt runs that the snow left in its wake, but the girls are looking to put in something less vermin friendly like bushels of Queen Anne’s lace. Why would anyone in their right mind willingly plant ivy? Everyone knows it’s a hovel for rats and nocturnal marsupials. The next time I go on my morning run, if a raccoon wraps itself around my ankle and hitches a ride on the Harper Express, I’ll happily walk it right over to the first frat house I see. But that won’t happen. Judging by the turnout tonight, the girls will be the first to raise the funds needed to solve our landscapingdilemma.
Knox grunts up at the portrait comprised mostly of pastel shades of peaches and nudes. “Nope. They’re fucking. The artist is just trying to pass off the perversion in order to make aquickbuck.”
“Ha!” I bark in his perfectly chiseled face. Ever since Knox arrived at Whitney Briggs University, his name has been whispered throughout the halls, more important, throughout the sororities, namely this one, so much so that it sounds like the constant clacking of castanets. “That’s where you’re wrong. I can happily tell you that the artist in question would never stoop to the use of crude and rude expletives, because the artist in question is a true lady who doesn’t give a damn about the almightydollar.”
His features smooth out. His arms cross over his ginormous chest as he stands there judging me with those slits of blue trapped behind his lids. Knox has the Toberman family good looks, but, as comely as the entire lot may be, they’re all a little too matchy-matchy for my liking. Swear to God, they are an entire family of look-alikes—and I’m including Lawson in that equation even though they’re technically steps. From what I’ve seen, his brother, Rex, looks like a slightly older version of him. It’s unnerving having a replica on campus. Just last week, the two of them were in the Black Bear, a bar across from campus, and I swear it felt like an alien invasion—smoking hot aliens, butnevertheless.
“Areyouthe artist in question?” There it is again, that know-it-all tone, that sarcastic edge, and just hearing it makes me wonder what it is I ever did to deserve to have this walking jockstrap follow me around all night, indiscriminately accusing brilliant works of art of public coitus. There might be a hint of truth in there, but still, nobody deserves to be subjected to this high concentration of Knox’s dim witforlong.
“I’m not the artist. My mother is.” I pull out my phone and snap a picture of my mother’s latest and greatest creation. She’s a socialite by trade—and yes, she has very much made a career of flaunting pricey handbags—but she has also fostered her artistic abilities for as long as I can remember. Of course, North Carolina isn’t large enough to contain my mother. She’s working on a gallery showing in New York as well as within our own great state. And thanks to the fact my father has practically eaten all of New York real estate for breakfast, her odds of scoring that coveted showing are pretty damn good. My parents might be exes, but they’ve somehow remained amicable through all the years. “She’s currently showing at a gallery in Jepson.” I leave out the part about her actually owning the gallery. “Her exhibit will be open all summer, so in between knocking your head around on the field, and knocking it against the headboard at home, you should trek down there some time and enlighten yourself to the cultural side of life. There’s a whole world outside that perverted locker room. You should peer out from beneath the cheerleaders’ skirts sometime and see for yourself.” I scoot along into the commons room, hoping to find a glimpse of my boyfriend, Justin. He said he’d be here by eight, but it’s close to nine thirty and still no sign. Justin and I finally landed on solid ground again after a bumpy last two years. It feels good to have someone in my life I can depend on, someone who’s interested in me for who I am, not my face or my trust fund. It’s hard to believe wonderful men like Justin still exist. Not that I’ve had the best examples of loving relationships in my own life. My parents once had a traditional marriage until my father integrated a bevy of other women into the mix, thus turning the traditional institution on its fornicating ear. Since my parents’ divorce, I’ve always felt a bit of nostalgia toward monogamy, and I was more than glad to find it with Justin. He’s my forever, and I’m his. We’re a done deal. Lifers in this world of interchangeablepartners.
“Your mother?” Knox follows me deep into the heart of the great room of Kappa Gamma Gamma, my new home for the next three years. Last year, I lived in the dorms with a roommate who heated up obnoxiously smelly fish dishes in our shared microwave and chewed on her toenails as a means to save on pedicures. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The true horror of last year was having a room on the third level. I’m not simply afraid of heights—I’mpetrifiedof them. On those few occasions that I was forced to take the stairs, my head pounded with its own heartbeat. And forget looking at the view from my balcony. I had seen it once and swore that the ground was calling me to it like a magnet. There is no greater fear than to know that your body has an undeniable urge to jump no matter how frightened or unwilling you are to meet the ground. Honestly, I can’t trust myself on anything taller than a set ofheels.
“Yup, dear old Mom.” My God, why is this idiot stalking me? Is this some kind of bad karma for ignoring those Girl Scouts at the supermarket last week? I scan the room for any signs of Ava or Lucky. I know for a fact they’re both here. I also know for a fact they’re connected at the crotch with their respective boy toys as of late. Ava is hot and heavy with Grant, the boy whose sister murderedherown sister—and yet their love is both real and thriving. And Lucky has found love in the strong arms of Lawson Kent, my unofficial big brother as assigned through the Greek system. I really do like Lawson. He’s a totally cool guy who’s given me a few effective pointers on the track and in life. I just so happen to be addicted to running. It’s my singular passion. The thing I’m not addicted to is this nitwit who seems to have attached himself to my hip for theevening.
I step back in annoyance to get a better look at him. My God, he’s like a stray I can’t shake. A hot one, but nonetheless. “You’re not lost, are you? Look, I’m not available, and I’m not a jersey chaser. Two unlucky strikes for you. Now, scoot before the hookup hos all pair off for the evening and you’re left with Rosy Palm again.”Again. I snicker to myself at the perfectly timed dig. Oh, wait…Isn’t there some blonde ditz who’s been known to drool at his feet now and then? That’s right. Knox very much has a plus one floating around somewhere. They were at the Black Bear last week when my friends and I were all discussing our summer internships. Poor thing is probably tied up in his closet, seeing that he’s determined to get what he wants when he wants it, and honest to God, right now, that feelslikeme.
His lips purse a moment, those lucent sea glass eyes glare at me as if I’m the one who’s done something offensive. “No, I’m not lost.” The muscles in his jaw pop as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his perfectly worn-in-all-the-right-places jeans. His face is contorting as if he’s struggling with something, and I can’t help but wonder what in the hellitis.
“Look, if you’re constipated, the bathroom line at the base of the foyer is a killer. I’ll give you a free pass and let you go upstairs.” Traveling beyond the third step is a no-fly zone in this house as far as male guests are concerned, so if he happens to get himself banned for the night for violating house rules, it’s on his obnoxious head, not mine. “Now, go on. Go get yourself some relief.” I try to shake him by threading through the crowd at a decent clip, but he’s right therewithme.
“Trust me, I don’t need to take a dump.” He gives a nervous look to the tables set out advertising their wares in hopes to garner a fair amount for the silent auction at play—and, judging by the number of names running down those lists, we’re off to a stellar start. “How about we head over and bid on a few things? I’ll let you pick them outforme.”
“ARRGHH!” I give a hard gasp and nearly voluntarily baptize myself with the contents of my Solo cup—ginger ale for inquiring minds. “We shall not commit commercetogether!”
His frown grows pronounced, and for some reason his features morph into something far more attractive than they were to begin with. Figures. Both his mind and his looks are fueled withanger.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” hegruffs.
“I’m not looking at you like anything.” The crowd blossoms around us as I rise on my tiptoes and spot Ava and Lucky in the rear of the room.Thank God. I give a wild wave. The socialTitanicnext to me is about to suck me under, and I’m in desperate need of theirliferaft.
“Yes, you are.” There’s a marked baritone in his voice that penetrates right through my solar plexus the way my father’s voice is known to do. It’s funny, but I’ve always associated that deep, dark talent with aman,and now I have this rocks for brain jock contestingtheidea.
He steps in front of me, effectively blocking my path. “You’re looking at me like I should bearrested.”
“My God, that’s the best idea you’ve had all night! Wait here. I’ll get the boys from the Hollow Brook PD to toss you into the back of their paddywagon.”
“What?” He jumps back as if I just electrocuted him with my words as Ava and Lucky swarm us with their otherhalves.
“Finally.” I pull my two best friends into a much-needed human shield—I mean, embrace. “A girl can only handle so much from a quarterback with a roomtemperatureIQ.”
Ava pulls back with a curious expression. Ava is beautiful in a sweet girl next door way, a complete contrast to Lucky who is more the vixen next door with a knack to get naughty with a set of sharp knives. I’ve never met anyone with a mischievous streak so wide anddangerous.
“What’s up, sis?” Lawson gives me a quick high five. He’s a b-ball boy, thus the general increase in brain cells in comparison to his pig-headed, pigskin prone stepbrother, Knox. Ava’s boyfriend, Grant, is the king of the court as well, and both Lawson and Grant have that frat boy smile, those laughing eyes. As handsome as they are, I’ve only got eyes for my man. I give the crowd a quick look-see for the man in question and come up empty once again. Where the hell is Justin? Just as I’m about to whip out my phone and solve this mystery, Knox steps into view and sheds a devil-may-care grinmyway.
I crouch into Lawson as if needing protection and Knox scowls. “The Mustangs lost their quarterback, and he can’t seem to find hiswayhome.”
Knox steps in. “I’m a linebacker,sweetie.”
