The Best Chance (The Amherst Sinners Series Book 4) Page 2

  The familiar heat started in my stomach and spread every direction when she awoken my cock with her warm lips and voice brushing my ear as she whispered, “Meet me in the bathroom in 5.”

  My dick was always making poor decisions, fucking the wrong women—Layla, the one-way street; Jade, my criminally-allergic-to-commitment twin; and now Addi, the girl I was trying hard not to like any more than I did.

  In the depth of my haze-induced highs, I would wonder how much of my feelings for Layla died and how much of them simply got stuck to Addi by accident.

  When I met Addi, I felt things I didn't know how to justify. Layla needed me to protect her. I was there for her, and what I felt for her was like a second skin—natural. Addi didn't need anything from me, and everything I felt was uncomfortable, because I didn't know where it was born from.

  My now dead heart?

  My witness protection demeanor?

  I slid open the door to the bathroom she left unlocked to find her propped on the small sink with her legs already spread wider than I needed.

  Thank god I sprung for First Class. Coach bathroom sex would have been even more work for my distracted mind.

  She pulled my shirt with so much force I knew there was going to be wrinkles left, where her fingers clenched into fists. I was dragged up against her, until I was now flush against her hard nipples poking through her thin sweater, which was more useful left in Boston’s heatwave.

  She knew I wasn't paying attention when she whispered, “Hey… Hunter?”

  Addi was right. I wasn't paying attention. Her hard nipples rubbing up against my chest only dug up a buried memory involving Layla. Her nipples were pierced horizontally instead of the typical vertical. My memories of her had a life of their own, because now I could feel the metal jewelry against my shirt.

  Memories of her tore through me like bouts of PTSD—not a memory, but an evil much worse, too lifelike.

  The only thing that pulled me back was Addi laying down kisses along my jaw and her vocals placed between each kiss.

  I saw myself in the mirror behind her when I snapped back to reality. My hair was falling out of the low bun, and there were bags under my eyes. There was an uneasy look stamped on my face.

  I was a fucking disaster. Not that my average was much more cleaned up, but my resemblance to Hollywood’s most praised was long gone. I was no longer frail and unkempt, and the danger in my eyes wasn’t as easily detectable anymore. I grew some muscles, and parts of my hair had gotten darker once I moved to New England for college from my hometown of the Sunshine State. My unkempt state had become slightly more polished—polished in a way that even more women noticed.

  I couldn't complain. I looked like I made money, and I quickly learned that flaunting it opened doors, instead of hiding it, like I used to.

  Addi’s hand suddenly dropped lower, cupping what she could of me, before laying her palm flat and teasing under my zipper.

  “What's wrong?” she asked me with concern, but didn't stop rubbing, making her objective clear.

  “Nothing. Get on your knees.”

  She didn't put up a fight, which meant she was desperate. Normally when I barked that command, she would bite back. She normally gave me some speech about women’s rights, men pushing the female race down, and how she'd never kneel for anyone.

  Addi demanded equality. She was getting off too, or no one was.

  I kept my eyes adjusted upwards, staring at the ceiling and trying to guess where we were in the sky as she unzipped my jeans. She didn't bother pulling them down or making her life easier when her hand crawled into my boxers to pull my semi-hard length out.

  I didn't have to look to know she was deflated with my half-mast, but my mind was trapped somewhere between PTSD and the possibilities of being summoned to my boss.

  The warmth of Addi’s mouth left my mouth slack out of nowhere, like an inhale with no exhale. The mixture of warmth and wet made focusing on this a lot easier now.

  The small sink vibrated against her phone, and I only noticed after it threw what little attention I did have. Looking down at the illuminated screen I saw the name first: “Mister”. No last name or emojis hinting to who he was.

  I knew all too well already. He was a married man with two kids, living in Boston on the weekends as a family man. Monday through Friday, he was a professor at Amherst College, living on campus and fucking the talent he was supposed to be nurturing.

  Trying not to be jealous or possessive was a hard thing for me to do. I was used to fighting for every inch of rope I got, which meant being possessive and protective of what was mine.

  Addi wasn't technically mine, but she was someone I was also fucking and supposed to be nurturing.

  “Your boyfriend is texting.”

  Her mouth dropped away from my length that was already losing its stiffness that she had worked so hard to gain.

  “He's not my boyfriend… stop.”

  Yeah, he was someone’s husband; he couldn't be shit to you.

  Mister wasn’t her boyfriend, but she swiped the phone out of my hand like she had something to hide. It was too quick and too calm, like she forced both in order to keep Mister out of our world.

  Addi

  We were seven miles up in the sky flying towards California—

  the place I dreamed to be after I graduated. I was feeling so fucking high right now. All the good agents, all the movie sets, all the intoxicating sunshine to give my fake tan a run for its money.

  I was actually happy, in all aspects, and I wasn't comparing anything of mine to anyone else’s—not even to Liz, my sister, who I was trained to feel second best to.

  She was the gold standard in my family, and I was the shadow all the things that didn't live up to her lived in. I used to be bitter about it when I was younger, when I kept trying to live up to something that wasn't me. It wasn’t until the summer before freshman year that I convinced my mother the features I was born with were holding me back. She was too quick to agree.

  My mother is a beautiful Cuban woman, complete with a natural complexion that resembled my fake tan, who matched Liz perfectly with her emerald eyes and full lips. She seldom spoke Spanish, but when she did, it sounded like singing.

  I resemble my dad, or I did, before the filler, rhinoplasty, boob job, fake tan, and the platinum hair that was far from my original color. He has dark features that sat on a paler skin tone, and looks painfully average. Now I don't look like I'm even part of the same family… which was my point. I wanted to be what I chose for once.

  Not my parents.

  Not my sister.

  I wasn't on my knees anymore. I snatched the phone from Hunter when he said that the word Mister popped up on the screen at an inconvenient time.

  Hunter liked to tease me that he was my boyfriend, when all I condemned him to was a good fuck and a pain in my ass. I wasn't some hopeless girl, hoping a bad situation turned into some great love story. He was married, and I was his student. There was no misinterpretation here.

  I slid open my texts to read: I miss you. Come by my place. We'll keep each other warm.

  My eyes rolled on their own.

  I had been pushing more space and time between fucks, but it was awkward when Monday through Friday he was giving me comments on my ability to connect with the empty seats in rehearsal.

  Hunter was still in the small bathroom with me. His arms crossed, and I knew it was just a matter of seconds before he stormed out. Mister was a sore spot for him, after seeing the fall out on campus when word got around I was the one sleeping with a teacher. My best kept secret was still who he was.

  Secrets didn't stop the entire student body from going silent when I walked into rooms and making sure I felt like a shadow of my former self.

  “Classy, Addi. Thought that shit was done.”

  He didn't even wait for me to explain. Thank god, because I was running out of excuses and lame attempts to tell him it wasn't that easy.

  Even though it w
as. I was just too chicken shit to actually cut him off. For good reason, he seemed vindictive and petty as a high schooler.

  There were already too many eyes on me at school, and nothing was letting up. That was half the reason Hunter let me come with on his business trip: pity.

  “Hunter…” was all I could force out of my mouth as he left the bathroom with a door slam. I couldn't lie to him. We were villains of our life stories, and he didn't deserve more lying.

  Twisting around I saw myself in the mirror. All the fake layers I had built up as armor… and none of it stopped me from hurting everyone else. Fuck me. It wasn't even protecting me from feeling hurt every time I saw Hunter’s eyes get dark at the mere mention of a life outside of him.

  I maintained eye contact with the reflection, forcing myself to take in all the ugly I convinced myself was pretty. It wasn't until college I realized looks mattered, but not more than what's inside. It took me longer than most to see. It was a harder lesson to learn, when every advantage you get is because you look like a fantasy come to life.

  After a few minutes, I left the bathroom and made my way back to our seats. I sat down in the spacious seat next to his, and he immediately said, “Don't bother, Addi. I don't need to know the dirty details. I'm going to sleep.”

  My plan to make him feel better backfired in an epic way. I could see the stress settle between his cracks even as he tried sleeping. I wasn't sure what had him on edge about going to California for a work thing. He was successful at what he did. I didn't have all the details, but I knew how much cash he carried around. I had seen him throw more into a safe in his apartment. He was self-made and should be proud of it, yet he never was.

  I didn't push him for more, like I normally would have. I left him in his comfort zone, alone, like he wanted. His silence was my punishment—one I deserved for letting him think anyone was more important.

  He just didn't know that yet.

  He didn't bother waking up from his light sleep, until I rubbed my elbow into his bicep carefully, while pouring the rest of the complimentary champagne down my throat, before I stepped off the plane, becoming under 21 again.

  I didn't look eighteen, but when it came to forking over an ID was normally when the bartender would snatch the drink back.

  Stepping off the plane into the tunnel, I could already feel the dry heat wrapping me up in comfort, instead of the low 50’s of back home. I looked around, wondering if anyone I walked by was one of the young talents who moved out there. How many people eventually felt crushed under the one in a million chance they’d score a career-changing gig? California seemed the opposite of hopeless. Regardless, I felt every hope piled on top of each other, fueling me to come back, and I wasn't even gone yet.

  I got glued to the floor to ceiling window putting the city lights on display, when Hunter called out my name and tore my focus in half.

  As we were waiting on the curb for a Lyft, I realized his on-edge attitude was probably from leaving Camille behind—his Mustang that I was sure he'd save over an actual person.

  They had the chemistry.

  “So… why are we here again?” I asked to fill the dead space between us. Between his car and Mister texting me at the most inconvenient time, I figured he'd want to vent, instead of pretending I forgot. I wasn't that kind of blonde; mine was fake.

  “My boss summoned me. Can't say no. You can go shopping or something when I meet with him tomorrow.”

  My eyes snapped in his direction, “Why wouldn't I come with you?”

  His exacerbated, drawn out, version of my name wasn't a response I was willing to accept. He wasn't going to foil my plans of pretending to be The Lonely Hearts Killers, Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love, Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston… while in California.

  I was goal oriented if nothing else.

  Hunter was all dangerous, and I was all the crazy enough to become the next kind of infamous duo people wouldn't understand.

  “I'm going with you. Every... entrepreneur needs a hot girl by their side when doing business.”

  Every time my voice broke before his real job title, his eyes would shoot draggers my way in the hope I'd swap out his actual job title for something less obvious. I landed on entrepreneur instead.

  He brought a sense of awareness back to me that I abandoned. The only thing I was aware of was how much a few changes altered how people viewed you, how much people were willing to do for you, and how instrumental your looks really were in this world.

  We associated looks with success, and who didn't want to be part of that?

  It was still fun pretending I was going to make his business obvious and watching his features tense up.

  His head fell my in direction, and I could see how tired he looked. He had a way of making me actually feel guilty without trying, without any action or words attached meriting guilt. I wasn't someone who felt bad often. I severed ways with toxic emotions after I became the version of myself I didn't hate. I spent too much of my life hating myself for not being my sister.

  “Drop it, Addi. This isn't Boston. You're lucky I let you come at all.”

  His voice sounded strained after he snapped at me, like this trip was going to reveal everything dark inside of Hunter if I wasn't careful. The Lyft arrived, and we got in. Hunter gave the driver the address of our hotel, as I sunk back into my seat. I focused my eyes on the city streets passing us instead.

  I always knew there was more to Hunter than meets the eye. He had dug through my fragile layers like tissue paper, knowing all my dirty secrets in no time. He knew about Mister, about my parents, and even the corrupt master list I lived my life by.

  As much as Hunter and I pushed each other and made scenes uncomfortable for citizens who didn't know us, I knew when not to push him. Pushing him now would be easy and too real. I preferred our fighting to be lighthearted and ending in an orgasm.

  The hotel was modern, head to toe, with uninviting furniture in the lobby and girls dressed in club attire. The culture shock was real, after staring longer at the girl in front of me, wearing a cropped top and high-waisted dress pants, casually taking Hunter’s name.

  “I have you down for two queen beds, two rooms?”

  The sparkle in her damn chocolate eyes set off behavior I wasn't used to, being born out of jealousy. I didn't do jealous, needy, or sloppy. My master list was crafted to avoid the pitfalls of feelings or disliking myself once one task was completed.

  I let the temple of my head crash into his shoulder cascading my long, platinum hair all over his arm. I didn't care; I was busy making a point.

  Her gaze immediately stopped sizing up Hunter, while I cock blocked him the same way Mister did to me, except this revenge was a sweet relief—not cold or stale, but worth every showboating second.

  “Oh, no, sweetie… one room, one king. We’re together.” I made sure my voice was sweet, even though my eyes were filled with a stern warning.

  I couldn't explain how protective we felt over each other. Well, I could explain his in one word: Layla. Mine was much harder to define. Layla crafted the protective parts of him, and they only lived for her.

  The room was spacious with a large bed in the center. While I was busy gawking at every element I could only describe as “classy,” Hunter was stripping. I was caught between Wilshire Avenue and Hunter’s abs as my view.

  California was my dream, and I had no worries. I'd accomplished being here, but Hunter? He was the hope of something so great your mind didn't let you fantasize about it, because if it didn't come true, you'd be unsalvageable.

  His tight stomach taunted me, tattoo free and still sleek enough to not come off like he tries too hard.

  My whole body looked like I worked out four times a week, got my fillers maintained, and was spray tanned before anyone noticed a fade.

  I sat on my knees on the bed in front of him admiring him undoing his pants and stepping out of them so gracefully you could assume he'd done it a lot.

  Spoiler alert? He
had.

  “Can I help you?”

  His curt tone only made my heart being turned upside down deep inside me even worse. Without a word, I pulled my light sweater over my head, leaving me with my off-white, push-up bra, decorated with leopard print, on display. I went to unclip my bra, when Hunter suddenly walked away.

  High and dry. His specialty.

  This was unusual for us. When the mood hit, we normally resumed our cat-and-mouse games. Who would hold out the longest before caving…?

  Topless, I followed him to the bathroom, where I watched him turn on the water and step into the shower without a word.

  “Company?”

  He let the shower door close behind him with a hard slam. “No. I got a lot on my mind. Just order food. I'll be out in a minute.”

  “Ass.”

  Now I was insulted. Now our cat-and-mouse game just became about finding out what he was hiding.

  Quietly leaving the bathroom, I immediately started searching with my eyes for his phone. Something he placed on the same rung as Camille—more important than people. His phone was the one part of himself completely locked away, out of my reach.

  His leather weekender sat precisely on the desk, like it came with the room, blending right into his dark past. I didn't waste any time rummaging through his bag in hopes of finding his phone. With my hands two shirts deep, I had already convinced myself that the piece of technology would give me every answer I begged Hunter for.

  Hunter

  California

  There were too many variables becoming staples in my life: Addi, her married lover, my boss wanting something from me with no hints… and the worst was Layla haunting not only my private moments but the one with Addi half-naked.

  Her phone going off when it did gave me an easy way out, instead of crushing her the way I planned to. She was tough. She could take it, unlike most girls who led with their looks.

  There was too much I couldn't calculate, and every equation ended in disaster—mostly with me at the hands of all my variables I avoided dealing with. That only gave them more power. I was willing to let them grow up to be monsters, if it meant not giving into change.