Page 44 of The Player Penalty
It’s been a lifetime for me, and a single overture was met with rejection.
∞∞∞
“There you are. I thought you would hide from me another day.”
After his rejection, I used school as an excuse not to come in yesterday. “Not for long. I brought Dad his lunch, and I have plans later.”
“Can we talk?”
“About what?”
“You wanted…” Julian sucks in a breath and releases it. My stupid request is remarkably painful for a man who hops from one bed to another. “You wanted me to be your first.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I take it back.”
“What?”
“I have other plans.”
“What plans?” he spits.
“Plans with me.” Sarah appears with such perfect timing that she’s my new hero. “You aren’t required.” She beams with pride at the idea of stealing me away from him. Julian confessed his possessiveness towards our friendship, one I’ve never shared with anyone. For all that, Sarah behaves as if she knew about it. Like it’s a form of petty revenge. “See there? He’s alreadyannoyed. Do you want to get even further under his skin? Ask Julian where he lives. Better yet, ask him if you can come over.”
Something in me deflates at her suggestion. Our friendship started weakly, but we’ve grown progressively closer, to the point I nearly confessed my soul. In all that time, Julian hasn’t invited me over. He used the word possessive, and while that’s true, I’m also convenient. “I’ve never been.”
“No one’s been, honey. It’s a complete mystery,” says Sarah. She flashes a false smile at Julian. “You owe me for that.”
“I don’t owe you shit,” he says.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t know it yet.” She grabs my hand, pulling me from the spare conference room. “This will take a little while.”
I glance behind me and decide not to protest after seeing Julian’s unreadable expression.
∞∞∞
“You have so many clothes.” I gape at the inside of her closet. It’s a giant walk-in and meant to hold clothes for two people. I’ll bet Jake Knowles doesn’t have so much as a single shirt in it. “They’re beautiful.”
Some of her dresses look designer quality, or at least expensive enough that I’m afraid to touch them.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? I had the same reaction after borrowing one of her dresses once,” Maddie says from where she lies draped across the bed. Her chin rests on one hand as she watches, amusement etched on her face. “You’ll find a slutty red dress of your own in there.”
“A slutty red dress?” I ask. My short skirts are practically a trademark by now. Julian once claimed I had nice legs, and the number of skirts in my wardrobe increased accordingly.
“I borrowed one of Sarah’s dresses, altered for my size, of course, and Boone went crazy for it. It had no back and bared a ridiculous amount of skin. I have fond memories of that dress,” Maddie explains.
Sarah raises a hand at her friend. “That’s my brother, so we should stop this right now.” She moves through the rack, inspecting one dress after another. “Wow, this is a lot. I don’t remember the last time I wore this one. This one still has a price tag on it.”
Maddie moves to sit cross-legged and checks me out. “Not red; that’s not the right color for you.”
I glance down at my body. “What is the right color?”
“White,” says Maddie. “All white.”
“But why?” I want to protest. When Sarah offered up a visit to her closet, I pictured myself in something closer to Maddie’s slutty red dress. White is…well, virginal.
