Player(35)

Amelia snickered. “Oh, she’ll be full and filled all right.”

I shook my head at the two of them. “I cannot believe I’m hearing this right.”

Katherine shrugged. “It’s just sex. Do you think you can mess around with Sam and not get your heart involved?”

I frowned, considering it. I was actually considering it, and I wondered briefly if I’d lost all touch with reality or if I still had a tenuous grip.

They weren’t wrong—kissing Sam might have been the greatest mistake of my life. Because now I knew what I was missing, and I wasn’t inclined to let it go despite the promise I’d made that it’d just be the once. Maybe there was a way to keep it going. I very obviously had a lot to learn.

Would Sam be open to teaching me? Would it be worth asking? What if he said no?

What if he said yes?

The thought of kissing him again sent a bloom of heat through my chest that sank low in my belly. If he could do what he did to me with just a kiss, I didn’t even know if I’d survive the onslaught of his hands. Never mind his body. Might as well just pick out my tombstone now.

Here lies Val. She wasn’t ready for his jelly.

He’d been so eager to teach me so far, even to kiss me. Sure, I’d had to do a little convincing, but it really hadn’t taken much. There was no risk to his heart—he didn’t get involved, and if he did, it wouldn’t be with me.

But there was a risk to my heart.

I knew without even needing to think about it that he’d ruin me for life. But I was already screwed for kisses. Why not make it a sweep and give him the win across the board?

All I had to do was ask.

Katherine was right. We were in a unique position, one where I could propose the advance in our lessons. If he agreed, there would be more kissing. Some heavy petting. And possibly, potentially, the best lay of my life, past or future.

And just like that, I knew exactly how to word it so I wouldn’t sound like a creep and he could let me down without fear of hurting my feelings.

I took a breath and smiled. “For science.”





14





Jump





Sam

I saw her the second she walked into the club.

It was like I’d known she was standing there, as if the crowd parted at the opportune moment, like the club had pointed its lights in her direction by instruction of the universe.

She was a vision in navy and red, her skirt almost black with white piping and sailor buttons on the front. Her shirt, the red tailored one with the puffed sleeves. Her saddle shoes pointed in my direction.

But it was her smile that made my heart skip a beat, made my fingers miss a note. Her cheeks, alight with the same joy I found when I walked into the club. Her eyes, sparking so bright with her happiness, I could see from across the room. Her smile, lips red and stretched and beaming.

Just once.

A string in my heart thrummed with a string on my bass as I picked up the beat. And when she met my eyes, I gave her the best smile I had.

It was honest, instinctive. It was a smile for her, just as much as hers was for me.

I turned my attention to my instrument, tuning out the crowd. But not her. No, I played for her and her alone, jumping in for a solo when it wasn’t my turn. The guys let me—all I had to do was shift, and they knew I was taking over. I was the closest thing to a conductor that we had.

I spun my bass, dragged it across the stage without my fingers losing their place, playing harder, faster than I usually did. Tilted it to forty-five degrees and climbed on top in a feat of skill that looked like it defied gravity but was simply a matter of physics—the neck in my left hand, my foot in the waist, the weight on my back foot holding the base to the ground. When I jumped off, it was with the kick of my feet out behind me, and when I landed, I swept my instrument into my arms to play it like a bass guitar.

The screaming and whistling reached me through a haze. I jerked my chin to Chris, our trumpet player, who joined me in a seamless duet. He walked to my side, facing me as he played, the two of us riffing off each other like we had a hundred times. When I widened my stance and gave him a nod, he picked up his pace and brought the melody up to the top. And when it hit the height, just before the rest of the band joined in, he jumped on my back and pointed at the ceiling, ripping the high note right on cue.

The crowd lost it, yelling and whooping and bouncing. Feet were in the air, skirts flying, smiles, smiles, smiles everywhere.

And I was high on the feeling.

Val was there, on the edge of the dance floor, jitterbugging alone, while Katherine and Amelia swung each other around. We started a new song, and I took my place back in the middle of the group. But I couldn’t stop watching her.

Fucked beyond repair. That’s what I was.

She’s not for you. You can’t have her. Find another girl before you do something stupid.

A wave of aversion rushed over me at the thought of hooking up with anyone.

I found myself wearing a mighty frown.

It happened like this sometimes—I’d meet a girl I wanted, and she’d be all I wanted until I saw things through.

That explained what this feeling was. That was all it could be, all I was capable of. Attraction. Possession. Acquisition. Nothing more.

The thought erased my discomfort. And with my conscience clean, I gave myself license to watch Val without remorse.