Page 35 of Best Man on Campus

“Fine, I’ll break into song at 9 p.m. sharp wherever I am in the bar.” I keep my guitar in the back room, so technically I’m full of shit, but I move ahead and meet Ben and his fucking entourage half way down the long front-to-back bar. I smile into his glare.

“We need to talk,” he says. His friends stand with him, staring. They have no business in this conversation. Kace and Stone flank him and fucking Lara stands behind him. My hands clench with the need to rip her hair out. But if he wants this conversation in front of his buddies, I’ll play. All restraints off.

“Ooh. Sounds scary. We playing student and principal? You gonna spank me?”

He closes his eyes and then a smile splits his face. When his eyes open, they’re softer, forgiving. Clearly the way to keep him tame is with teasing of the sexual kind.

“Your TikTok video is … problematic.”

I raise my brows, a little thrill shoots through me because he saw it and he knows it’s about him. I flick a glance at Stone and Kace and they turn away, moving to the bar, presumably to order a drink.

“You didn’t like my song? You’re in the minority. Got thousands of likes and—”

“Shares and views all over the fucking place.” He’s leaning in, whispering in my ear because the place is loud. Lara, Kace, and Stone are still within earshot. His friends watch me while they sip their beers..

“I know it’s popular. It’s fucking hot,” he says, cooling my rage by a few degrees. “The problem is the comments, mentioning my name.”

“And?”

“Let’s talk somewhere private,” he says and puts his hand on the small of my back. A whole other class of thrill jolts through me this time and it’s more real, more disturbingly warm than sexy.

He brings me to the back of the bar and asks Leon to use the office. The bartender nods at us to go for it, barely suppressing his knowing grin, making me want to slap him for his romantic notions, bringing my surly back to the surface. I’ll let Ben air his stupid prudish issue with my vid and then lay him out for setting me up for a date with his fu—his mother. I can’t think of that woman, his mom, as a fucking anything.

“The scene of the crime,” I say when we step inside the office, pleasure rises, covering the surliness, as I remember our night of crimes, until a shot of nausea bursts my bubble at the distinct smell of blood as if there’s a pool of it all over the floor. There isn’t. That’s my crazy showing, taking hold of me.

“Why?” he says, moving in on me, trapping me in his arms, and now the crazy’s even stronger when I feel his indulgent warmth, his soft priestly understanding wrapping around me.

“Why what? What the fuck do you want to know? I don’t answer to you. I sang a song and it made me hot. So what?” I pull away from him. He lets me go and that angers me. The roller coaster of what he does to me starts all over again.

“You wrote the song about me, about us.”

I snort and roll my eyes, but I don’t bother denying it. Wrapping my arms around myself, I want to be back in his embrace, feel his strength. I’m like a junkie and he’s my very expensive, impossible-to-count-on drug of choice. Fuck me. I better get used to not having him. At least I have the song.

Shuttering his eyes, he takes an enormous breath like he needs all the oxygen on the planet before he reaches out to me, pulling me back into him, against the solid mass of him. It’s impossible not to be tempted into thinking he’s reliable, warm and strong and wise and true. Fucking unicorn.

“Don’t make anything of it.” I put my arms around him and he rests his forehead against mine so I can hardly see his eyes. Instead I stare at his lips and damn if I don’t start drooling. “Hey.” My head snaps up with a rare logical thought. “I thought you didn’t like the video?”

“I didn’t say that.” He takes another breath and lets it out. “But medical schools might not be impressed.”

“They won’t care and if they do, fuck ‘em.” I know I’m right. I have to be. Med schools wouldn’t be stupid enough to turn down Ben the unicorn. A sharp pang of guilt stabs me, annoying the hell out of me, forcing anger back to the surface.

He snorts a laugh.

“So I wrote a hot song. I plead guilty. But what about you? You set up your poor mother to sit with me at a hockey game. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I was thinking you wanted a ticket at the last second and it was the last one I had to give. Besides, I know my mother and she’s the easiest person to get along with on the planet. She’s single-handedly responsible for all the fundraising for the clinic and a fair amount for Doctors Without Borders. And she’s sweet and kind and never said or even thought a bad thing about anyone.”

“Shit.” I breathe the word, taking in the meaning of his words and wanting to go back to the arena for another hug from the mother of the year, to have another chance at that. But the idea fills me with instant guilt at the disloyalty to Majiski. She’s more my speed anyway. I like my mother figures with a generous portion of edge. I have a feeling Mrs. Unicorn would never get me in a million years.

But her son? Well, he’s a different matter. For no reason at all that I can fathom, he gets me and he likes me anyway. Or at least he likes sex with me. He wants to fuck me.

“Except maybe my dad,” he says as he nibbles at my earlobe, gives it a feathery lick and I shudder, feeling each hair stand on end like they’ve been shocked.

“What? What about your dad?” I’m not thinking, I’m feeling.

“My mom doesn’t talk bad about anyone but my dad. You know I tried to call you and text you to let you know—”

“You’re not serious? Like I’m obligated to answer your calls? You know I was busy.” And a chickenshit, but I’ll never admit that. His mom hates his dad? Shit.