Page 40 of Wicked Serve

“It’s obviously something.” I put my hands on my hips. “Is it Aaron?”

“No, we’re fine. Although it’s getting tricky to remember when you’re supposed to be with me.”

“Has he said anything?” I feel bad whenever I tell my brothers I’m hanging out with Victoria when I’m actually meeting up with Nik, but until now, she hasn’t minded. It’s easier than making up details about something else. Fortunately for me, neither of them seems all that suspicious about why I keep leaving the house so early and getting home so late. I’ve never been so grateful that both of them are in relationships.

“No.” She shakes her head for emphasis before serving again. “It’s just... this seems kind of involved.”

“What? We’re just friends.”

“You’re sleeping with him.”

“We do normal friend things, too. We’re watching Gossip Girl together. He’s forcing me to listen to this Russian metal music, which, don’t tell him, isn’t actually that bad.”

“See, that’s weird.”

I dribble the volleyball a little harder than necessary. “I thought this is what you wanted for me.”

“It is. But it’s sounding kind of domestic.”

“And I can’t have that?”

“No. Ugh. This is coming out all wrong.” She ducks under the net to my side of the court. I look around nervously, but Alexis is on the other end of the gym, lecturing a couple freshmen for sneaking away after the last road game. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Iz. This could get messy.”

“We’re friends and we’re having fun.” I cross my arms over my chest. I know I’m not the kind of girl who’d get a shot at more with someone like Nik, but I don’t need my best friend to tell me that. “And that’s all I want.”

Nik works his hands underneath my pleated plaid skirt, nibbling down my neck. “Tights? Really?”

“It is—ah—freezing out.” I put my arms around him, gasping as he lays me out on a table. My cheeks flush, as much from the position as the look on his face when the skirt rides up. I can’t believe he’s looking at me like I’m the prize, instead of the other way around.

This classroom, a little nook of a room on the second floor of the building where I have philosophy class and he has a Russian politics seminar, has become an unintentional meetup spot for us. Friends have routines, right? Ours just happen to involve making out and then some in the twice-weekly overlap between our classes.

Totally normal stress relief. Victoria has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Allow me to warm you up, then.” He kisses me for real, one hand winding in my hair, the other dancing down my side.

“I’m presenting in class,” I warn. “I can’t be late.”

“Practice it now,” he says, skimming his lips along my jaw. “What’s the topic?”

“Um—Kant.” I dig my hands into his navy-blue cable-knit sweater. I couldn’t resist tugging him into the room as soon as I saw it. The collar is unraveling in a way that feels rich boy intentional, and I’m not sure why that’s so hot to me, but I’m not about to question it when he’s on the verge of ripping my tights. He better not mess them up too badly; it took ages to pick out the right outfit for this presentation. I’m even channeling Blair Waldorf with a headband.

He does rip them. I give him an exasperated look, but he just strokes me through my panties, hooking his thumb underneath the elastic. “What about him?”

“His views on moral philosophy and how they differ from—Nik, fuck.” I arch my back as he rubs my clit through the thin fabric. Why are his fingers so damn talented? “If I fail this assignment, I’m blaming you.”

He smiles, easy and self-assured... and then presses his face against my inner thigh. “I’m dying for a taste,” he murmurs. “I want you lingering on my tongue when I walk into that fucking seminar.”

Someone jiggles the door handle. We freeze, looking over. He curses as he pulls away from me.

I sit up, hastily tugging down my skirt to hide the rip. “You locked it, right?”

“Yes.” He helps me off the table, smoothing my collar over my sweater. I comb his hair back; it’s falling into his eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone even walk into this classroom. There are tarps over half the shit in here.”

“I should go to class anyway.” I grab my bag, checking to make sure my notes are inside. Usually, I’m good at oral presentations, but this philosophy class has been kicking my butt. I’ll be lucky if I manage a B. I open the door carefully, breathing out a sigh of relief when it’s obvious that no one is lingering outside. I step into the hallway, Nik on my heels.

“Hey, Izzy!” Cooper calls.

My heart drops straight through my body. I plant my hand against Nik’s chest and shove him into the classroom. I yank the door shut, plastering a smile on my face, just before my brother reaches me.

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