Page 48 of Chasing Lynda

SHIT.

I mean, really. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to suggest that we compete for Lynda.

Not if I have to judge by the way she’s dancing with Carter. She’s so close to him and none of the nervous energy I noticed as a constant in Lynda’s demeanor seems to be there.

One of the things that has been eliciting my curiosity so far is that she’s always looking around, as if she were waiting for some threat to come her way.

But right now it’s all gone as she sways to the music in Carter’s arms, literally glued to his chest.

“What I wouldn’t give to hear what they’re talking about,” Zane says with his eyes as intent on them as mine and Dodge’s.

Dodge nods, his knuckles white as he tightens his grip on his glass of bourbon. “Fuck, yeah. I never knew that Carter had this much game.”

I have to agree with him. “True. I always thought when it came down to pussy, Carter was no threat.”

Zane objects. “Why would you think that? Granted that no one can keep up with your hookups, but Carter has had more than his fair share of flings.”

I shrug. “Sure, but think about it, Zane. How hard is it to get in the pants of a drunk sorority girl?”

Dodge snorts, I swear to God, he never forgave me for being the one who took Chrissie’s V-card—if we have to believe that one of us was really her first. “Yeah, yeah, Bennie-boy! We all know that no woman is immune to your charm. Not even hotter, older teachers.”

I bark out a laugh. “Just remember that never did I ever bring up Marissa. At least tonight.”

Zane joins him, jealousy even more obvious in his tone. “Marissa! Listen to yourself! Always bragging about fucking Professor Richards.”

I chuckle at their sour expressions. “I didn’t brag. I never even mentioned her until Dodge brought her up.”

Dodge’s eye roll is so exaggerated, that if the motherfucker isn’t careful, hie eyes will fall off his head. “Right. Whatever you meant with ‘how hard is it to fuck a sorority girl!’”

I shake my head. “All I meant is that Lynda doesn’t strike me as that type. There’s something different about her.”

That’s the exact moment when he kisses her. “Aww.” We all groan in unison.

It’s a mixture of frustration, because we all want to be in Carter’s shoes right now; excitement, because let’s face it, we’re all competitive and we love the thrill of the chase; and elation, because we might be competing for Lynda but, deep down, we’re happy for each other’s success because we love one another more like siblings than like friends.

That said, I’m about to get up and ask Lynda to dance with me. I’m fucking done watching her make out with Carter in the middle of the dance floor, but someone else gets there faster than me.

A total stranger approaches them, asking Lynda to dance and I watch confused as he claps Carter on one shoulder, basically stepping in his place and not even giving him time to react.

Carter stands there like a useless lump for one second but I see the exact moment when he decides that he won’t let the guy get away with it.

I’m on my feet faster than my best friend can close the distance with the dancing couple. “Dude,” I say, clapping Carter on a shoulder exactly the same way Lynda’s new dance partner did just a few moments ago. “Don’t. But he gets one dance only and he better keep his hands to himself. Don’t forget that the douche is a paying VIP guest.”

Carter nods, a dark scowl marring his features as we both stand at the edge of the dance floor, looking at the pair and stepping in the second the song ends.

“Hey!” The guy protests as I unceremoniously wrap my arm around Lynda’s waist, pulling her away from his embrace. “I was dancing with Miss Wet T-shirt!”

I don’t even look at the asshole, as Carter tells him to beat it, I’m focused on Lynda. “You all right?”

The unmistakable tension in her shoulders eases as she leans against me. “Yeah, thank you. That was ... weird.”

I nod. “Did you know the guy?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I don’t know anyone here in town. Aside from you guys. Well ... kinda.”

Carter returns, sans the guy. “Well fuck, I’m sorry, Lynda. That idiot was blabbering about VIP perks. Whatever he thought he bought, aside from access to the VIP lounge and a complimentary glass of champagne!”

Lynda doesn’t look mad and we decide to return to the table.

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