Page 85 of I Blame the Club

“Thank you.”

Nico slaps my shoulder, “Don’t encourage her. She’s already gunning for Wes.”

The elevator lets out a screech as it comes to a stop at Nico’s floor, and CeCe throws me a salute.

“When you get tired of his dramatics, hit me up.” She exits the elevator, leaving Nico staring after her, mouth hanging open.

“Can you believe she called medramatic?” He scoffs, “As if dying your hair green isn’t a dramatic act for attention.”

I chuckle, feeling another condom wrapper cut through my shirt, “Says the man wearing condoms-

“For the sake of a good party.”

-refusing to walk through his own residence building.” My brow raises, “Shall I continue?”

He grins, those dark eyes shining as he plants his lips back on mine.

“Shut up and get us to my room.”

Nico

What type of idiot uses double-sided tape to stick condoms all over their body?

Me. The idiot would be me.

“That hurts!” I shriek and slap Maurice’s hands away as he rips the third condom off my body. Why the hell did I think putting double-sided tape on my nipples was a good idea?

“You should have thought of that before choosing tonight’s theme.” A smirk tugs his lips as he reaches for another foil wrapper. I flinch, waiting for the rip that hurts a thousand times worse than waxing.

Maurice sighs and drops his hand away without inflecting any more red marks on my body.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to hurt you. But we just need…” His eyes light up and I see the lightbulb flash above his head, “Come with me.”

He grabs my hand, pulling me towards the tiny closet that is my dorm’s bathroom. Maurice flicks on the lights, blinding us in an unflattering yellow hue that makes me cringe.

“Babe, this is the worst place for mirror selfies. Trust me, Wes and I have tested that theory too many times.”

He rolls his eyes, “Your generation’s obsession with selfies is ridiculous.”

“My generation? We’re basically the same age.”

Maurice opens the grimy shower door and turns on the hot water. Steam starts to fill the tight space almost immediately, making my skin tingle with the humidity.

“I’m a good four years older than you.” He smirks, crossing those delicious arms over that equally delicious chest, “Which explains a lot.”

My face splits into a grin, “I’ve always been a sucker for older men. How old are you, anyway?”

“Twenty-four.” Maurice nods towards the running water, “Get in.”

“So bossy.” Leaving the shower door open, I step under the hot water, “Aren’t you going to ask how old I am?”

I close my eyes as the spray hits my face, the feeling of Maurice’s eyes on me heating my skin more than the water ever could.

“I know how old you are.”

Blinking water out of my eyes, I look at him with a smirk, “Been stalking my varsity profile?”

“Educated guess.”

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