Fair Game (The Rules #1)(36)

God. Why would the campus sex god be interested in me?

“I think one night with me turned him off completely. He’s just being polite,” I say, sending a quick glance to my phone’s screen. No reply still.

Figures.

“Whatever.” Kelli rises from the edge of my mattress. “I’m going to bed.”

She moves about the room, changing out of her clothes and I roll back over on my side, my back to her, facing the wall, my phone still clutched in my hand like a stupid, ridiculous girl waiting for her dream man to text her back. My head is still fuzzy from alcohol and I really wish I had a bottle of water on my bedside table but I don’t.

I need to just go to sleep. Forget this night ever happened. Forget that moment with Shep when our faces were so close and he muttered f*cking hell under his breath, like I was torturing him or something. I’m sure that was the farthest thing from the truth. I’m sure he was irritated he had to deal with such an inept little girl who threw herself at him and he wasn’t about to get involved in that sort of mess.

My phone vibrates in my hand, startling me so much I let out a muffled squeal. I check the screen and see it’s a text from Shep.

A long ass text. As in, that’s probably what took him so long to reply.

Giddy with excitement, I open my phone and read the text, my gaze skipping over the words, hurrying along to the end and I blink hard, resuming my attention to the first, heart stopping sentence so I can savor this moment, damn it.

I regret not kissing you. I should’ve. Having that sexy mouth of yours so close to mine, I should’ve gone for it. But I meant what I said. I don’t want you to forget everything when it does happen. Because it’s going to, that I can promise. All I can think about is your lips. You have the most amazing f*cking lips I’ve ever seen. Has anyone ever told you that? Because if they haven’t, or worse, they haven’t noticed, they’re f*cking idiots. I have fantasies about those lips. I’m having one right now. Fantasies and regret because holy shit, Jade, I really wish you were in my bed with me.

Oh. Wow. Is he sexting me? This feels like he’s sexting me. I should answer him with some witty, scorching hot reply, but what do I say?

I decide to go for it. Make it funny, not necessarily scorching hot because what if I screw that up? If I try for serious it’ll end up funny but the wrong kind of funny.

So are you saying my lips provide you plenty of masturbation material?

My finger hovers over the send button and I press it before I chicken out. He immediately responds.

Hell. Yes.

I don’t know whether I want to laugh or die a little inside. That I’m Shep’s beat off material is just so…weird.

And exciting. Definitely exciting.

Well our conversation just turned awkward. Good night. Sweet dreams. :)

I wait for his reply, my eyelids drooping, my entire body relaxing. My phone buzzes one last time in my hand and I check the message, smiling as I read it.

Sweet dreams sexy lips.

“So. The redhead.” Gabe studies me after shoveling a forkful of waffle into his mouth, chewing with narrowed eyes. “I thought you had no interest in her,” he says almost accusingly after he swallows.

I shrug, not willing to explain myself. I can’t explain myself. Worse, I don’t know what possessed me to send those texts to Jade last night, like some sort of lovesick boy waxing poetic over a girl’s lips. Granted, her mouth is what a man dreams of finding wrapped around his dick, not going to lie, but there’s more to it than that. More to her than that.

I just can’t put my finger on it.

“He likes the challenge,” Tristan says after taking a giant gulp of coffee. He’s already cleaned his plate and is probably itching to leave. We meet on occasion at this breakfast house not too far from campus, especially on Mondays when all three of us don’t have class until later in the morning or early afternoon.

Or not at all, like Gabe. That we were able to drag his lazy ass out of bed on a Monday morning says something about his need for a greasy breakfast.

“What do you mean?” I ask defensively, setting my fork down. The small restaurant is busy, the waitresses hustling to and fro, the booths filled with locals and the occasional group of college students like us. There’s a cluster of five girls sitting in the booth directly across from us, all of them making eyes in our direction.

We ignore them. They look young. I usually don’t like them young as I get older, but somehow Jade is an exception.

Breathing deep, I finish off my coffee, pissed at myself. I need to stop thinking about Jade all the f*cking time. One night with her—I barely touched her and didn’t even kiss her—and I act like I’m completely sprung.

“She’s not interested in you. Or, she is, but only when she’s drunk,” Tristan explains, a giant smile on his face. The *. Should’ve never told them what happened last night between Jade and me. “And they’re all interested in you. Interested in us. You want the challenge. You want to prove to her that you can get her to fall under your spell just like the rest of them.”

I don’t say a word. Maybe he’s right? No female has ever challenged me before beyond my mother and my sisters and that just comes with the family territory.

“Valid point,” Gabe says, like we’re having some sort of scientific discussion in class. “When I saw them together a couple nights ago, she was putting out some pretty hateful vibes.”