Faking It: A Small Town College Bad Boy Romance Read online

  But he’s still yummy to stare at.

  I watch their faces grow serious, and then they all look over at me. I freeze, blinking, wondering why all their faces are on me. My cheeks heat and suddenly, I’m staring straight at Trace. His eyes sear into mine, and I look away.

  Wow. I couldn’t stand to stare at him any longer for fear of transporting myself across the room and throwing myself on his lap; which, of course, I would never do. Ever.

  I try to focus on Jordan, who is standing so close, I feel the anger again. It bubbles beneath the surface.

  “I really think you should consider going home for a while.”

  “What? Why? I like it here,” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I just think it would be best for your safety.” His smirk annoys me, and I seriously don’t understand where all of this is coming from.

  His comment makes me scowl. I wonder what he knows that I don’t.

  “What do you mean?” I glance back over to the poker game, where the guys are all sitting, staring at each other again. It looks intense, though I can’t understand why my eyes are being drawn over there non-stop.

  “Nothing. Just forget I mentioned anything.” He runs a hand through his blonde hair.

  “No, now you have my attention,” I say, focusing on him, not letting him off the hook so easily.

  “I just have a bad feeling.” He fidgets.

  Where is this all coming from? Does he know something about my past? I smile, pretending to not be affected by his words.

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere.” I cross my arms, raising my chin to stare at him down the slope of my nose.

  “Please, Vanessa, please think about it,” Jordan says, as he grabs my shoulders and—at least in his mind—tries to talk some sense into me.

  “Think about what? I’m not going anywhere. You don’t understand.” My heel is up against the wall, and I cross my arms.

  “Give me a little credit, Ness.” He shakes his head.

  “I don’t want to talk anymore.” I wanted to stomp away, but instead, I glance back toward the poker game as Trace throws his chips across the table. He glances my way, and I’m shellshocked. All eyes are on him, including mine, and I can’t turn away.

  What am I doing here? Why did I let Maxine drag me to this party?

  Then, Trace stalks over to the dance floor and grabs a brunette by the waist, whispering in her ear, and together, they walk out the front door.

  My head jerks back to Jordan, and I fake a smile.

  “Excuse me, I need to find the restroom.” I walk away from him and search for Maxine.

  Where can she be? Where?

  The house is amazing, with large, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the ocean. People are everywhere, and I try my hardest to find her. I turn around the corner, walking through a darkened hallway, and find a set of eyes staring straight at me.

  Oh my God. I clutch my chest, scared out of my mind.

  “Hello? Who is that?” I call out to the shadowy figure.

  “Hey, Vanessa. I’m glad you’re here.”

  The light from the moon filters through a far window, and I can almost make out a face.

  “Tony? Is that you?” I step closer.

  “Yeah. How’s your night going?” he asks, coming closer, as well.

  “Uhh, I mean, it’s going okay.” I have a weird feeling, being here.

  “Oh. Not having a good time, are ya?” He stands right in front of me, and I can see the shadows lining his features. His chiseled nose is more prominent in the shadows, and I can barely make out the soft, dirty-blonde color of his hair.

  “Hardly.” I laugh.

  “Maybe I can make it better.” He leans in, taking my chin in his fingers. He grips tight and causes me to wince in pain. My heartbeat picks up, and I panic a little. His lips brush mine, and I jerk back.

  What is he doing to me? I want to run, but he has a tight hold on me.

  “Tony, I don’t think we should . . .”

  He drops my chin, stepping back, and smiles. “Well, come on now.”

  My stomach clenches the more he talks. “What? No, Tony. Please.”

  “Listen, we need to stop playing this little cat and mouse game. I’ll see ya around.” With that, he brushes past me and rejoins the party.

  I just can’t be here anymore. My heels click and clack along the hall tile, and I rush through the house. Jordan’s in the kitchen, so I duck out the back door, running as fast as I can.

  I’m glad I’d had enough sense to bring my own car. I start the engine and breathe in deep, letting the breath out smoothly. My music blares at full volume as the house party fades in my rear view.

  Where is Maxine? Why is Jordan being a jerk? And what is up with Tony? I guess he had kicked back one too many beers or something. Home is the only place I want to be. My thoughts swirl in my head while I drive.

  After heading a good fifteen minutes down the street, a sputtering noise begins in my engine. Frantically, I pull off the road as the car gives one loud screech.

  Great, now what?

  I turn the key, and it just clicks and clicks. I’m stranded.

  Perfect.

  The car just sits there, unable to start. Piece of junk. It served me well in the beginning, and maybe I’ve been negligent on maintenance, but who has time for an oil change?

  I exit the car and try to gain my bearings. Walking in heels should be illegal on sodden concrete, but I need to get somewhere, anywhere. I glance down at my phone in my hands. Why didn’t I charge my phone before the party?

  If I stay on this road, I’ll end up at work. The restaurant isn’t open now, but I keep moving, hoping for the best.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  My heels smack the pavement. It rained earlier, so the mud and muck has mixed, creating a slippery goo on the road; making me more and more nervous.

  Tap, tap, oh no!

  My ankle twists, causing me to sidestep and rip my skirt at the seam. Oh jeez! The cause of my slip? My stupid shoe. The heel broke. That will teach me to buy things from second-hand stores. Fitting in with Palm Beach socialites is next to impossible, and on my budget, I may have picked up a few things on consignment a time or two. Okay, maybe a lot more than that.

  I assess my skirt. It’s not bad, just a nice, slutty slit up the back. Maybe it will help with a ride—ha, ha! I’m totally screwed here.

  Tap, thud, tap, thud.

  I continue walking, and with one heel on and one off, I almost feel as if I were born on the side of a hill.

  A car appears off in the distance, and I freeze.

  Should I hitchhike? Should I try to flag the driver for help?

  Headlights come up on me fast, and the car doesn't stop. I jump out of the way, as the car barrels toward me, missing me by half an inch.

  Asshole.

  The car halts, then flashes its headlights in my face. The driver steps out of the car—strike that: fancy sports car—and heads in my direction.

  “Hey, I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

  A shiver runs through me as I settle on a set of deep, dark eyes.

  Trace Weston, oh my God.

  Will he notice if I go and hide behind a tree? I think I can pull it off. Oh, who am I kidding? I want to tell him off for almost hitting me, but the concerned expression in his eyes consumes me.

  “Do I look okay to you?” I huff.

  He looks me up and down, smiles, and crosses his arms. “Could be worse.”

  “Pfft. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look, I’m sorry. We’re getting off on the wrong foot. My name is Trace, and you are?”

  “Vanessa.”

  “Well, Vanessa, can I give you a lift?” He smiles, and I’m sure he has used this exact same smile to get many women into bed. I won’t fall for it.

  “Go for a ride with you?” I am too mad to think—again, not mad at him, but upset at life right now. My anger bubbles: a hot tub, sexy book, and candles were
calling my name.

  “Yeah, it’s not such a crazy idea. Was that your car back there?” He jabs a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of my piece of junk.

  “Yes, it died on me.” I almost want to add “rest in peace,” because I am sure the car will never run again.

  “Well, I can’t leave you out here. Is there someone I can call?” His smile is infectious, full of big, pearly whites. Makes me want to see more of it.

  At the party, he was so angry, and I thought for sure he was having a worse night than I was. However, ha, ha, everyone knows I am hands-down having the worst night here.

  “No, no one to call.”

  “How about some coffee?” He smiles an all-around smile that catches my breath. And I know I am in trouble.

  3

  Trace

  When I first saw Vanessa on the side of the road, my anger was back in full swing. The reminder of having to date her upset me, but as she stood there, looking worse for wear, I couldn’t just leave her alone. When I’d offered to give her a lift, I didn’t like the way she turned her nose up at me. Pissed me off. Then, she all but killed me when she stepped into my car with her muddy shoes. I almost wanted to say something, tell her to hold her feet out the window or something. I sure wasn’t happy having her dirty up the car I was about to lose if I didn’t date her for an entire damn month.

  What do chicks like her even like to do for a month?

  The coffee shop is like something out of a thriller movie. It has such a creepy vibe that I keep checking over my shoulder to ensure we’re alone. Quiet and eerie, it has a neon sign on the door that blinks the shop’s name, A Fresh Start, and a bell above it that jingles to let the empty restaurant know we have arrived. I glance at the man working the counter as Vanessa lets out a sigh of relief.

  Over an order of black coffee, I smile at Vanessa, assessing this woman I have to date for a month.

  She’s had a rough night. It’s obvious. Her blonde hair falls across her forehead, and her skirt is slit halfway up her backside. None of it matters, though. I can’t stop staring at her pale blue eyes. So pretty.

  Of course, she is hot. I wouldn’t turn her away from my bed. I might even tie her up, so she stays put. But just the thought of the bet disorients me, upsetting me more.

  We settle in a booth near the back to sip our coffees. The rain has picked up again, pounding against the window of the shop. That’s Florida for you; you just never know when the rain will settle and end completely.

  It’s dark, and I can tell Vanessa’s a bit cold. She holds her coffee in both hands, sipping it to warm her up.

  There’s a small amount of protectiveness that runs through me. I want to cover her up with a blanket, but all I have is my own t-shirt.

  I don’t think that’ll work. I can’t go whipping my shirt off in front of her, that would definitely scare this type of girl off.

  “This is better than walking, right? You seem upset. Everything okay?” I ask her.

  “Sorry, it’s not you. I’ve just had a horror-story kind of night.”

  “Can’t be that bad. Want to talk?” I gaze into her pretty blues again.

  “To you?” she asks, incredulous, looking at me like I have flying saucers erupting from my head.

  Why does she hate me?

  “Why not?” I raise a brow.

  The door to the shop opens, and in strolls the blond guy from their argument at the party.

  “There you are,” he says, masking his concerned expression.

  He’s tall and lanky, and strides up to our table.

  “Jordan, not now.” Paying no attention to her words, he slides into the booth beside her and, in an instant, makes himself at home.

  My adrenaline pumps up. I am on high alert if he gets too close. I’m tall and pack plenty of muscle, so I’m sure fighting will lead to a win for me.

  “I have been looking everywhere for you, Vanessa,” he says, not even glancing my way. “Why did you leave?”

  Prick.

  “Sorry, Jordan. Meet Trace,” she says, gesturing between us.

  He eyes me like a cop searching a suspect and then nods his head. “Hey,” he says.

  Grunting back to him, I watch the two stare at each other. The tension between them makes me feel uneasy.

  She’s obviously not happy with him. And I vaguely remember the two of them fighting at the party. I wonder what’s going on, but I know better than to involve myself in some sort of lover’s dispute. Or lack thereof.

  Are they lovers? Was Tony wrong?

  “Well, you should have told me you were leaving. I was worried.” He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

  “I don’t have to tell you my every move,” she bites back, and I smile at her. Atta girl.

  He growls and leans against the table, trying his best to look intimidating, but failing hard. I stifle a laugh at his awkwardness.

  “I saw your car on the road and became worried. Why didn’t you answer your cell?”

  “Dead.” She shrugs and waves a hand in the air.

  “Do you need a ride?” he asks her, obviously suggesting himself as the driver, like I’m not even sitting there.

  “I can take you home,” the words pour easily out of my mouth and I’m not shocked by them. Normally, I’d lose this chick; too much drama. But something about this makes me want to be there for her, and not just because I have a bet to win.

  Her eyes widen at my suggestion, and Jordan looks ready to kill. It’s obvious this guy likes her, so what’s the deal with them?

  “No, Vanessa. I’ll take you home,” he snaps.

  I don’t like his tone. “Sorry, dude. She’d rather leave with me,” I say, puffing out my chest.

  She glares at Jordan as though debating the offers in her mind. Her head dips down, and she is mesmerizing.

  Leaning across the table, I touch her hand. “Let me take you home, Vanessa.” And something jolts below the belt inside me. She kind of turns me on, and all she’s done is look at me.

  Her hand twitches as she lets out a soft breath and her eyes float up to meet mine. My effect on her is evident, and I smile to myself, knowing it’s getting easier to land myself in a relationship with her.

  “I’ll call you in the morning, Jordan.” She stands, grabs her coffee, and heads towards the door.

  Jordan looks dumbfounded as he hops to his feet, shuffling after her.

  “Are you kidding? You’re leaving with him?” He yells at her like she’s some twelve-year-old schoolgirl.

  I jolt out of my seat, not wanting to miss my chance to spend more time with her, and wanting to keep her safe from this asshole. I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m just not vibing with him at all.

  “Jordan, I just need to be alone. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says, throwing the coffee cup into the trashcan.

  “No, you’ll call me tonight, so I know you made it home safe,” he demands.

  This demand pisses me off. I will get her home safe.

  “I think she’ll be fine,” I say, remaining calm in front of him as I place my hand on the small of her back. My hand tingles at the touch, and a sense of pride washes over me, happy I’m able to be the one to guide her to safety tonight.

  “Jordan, I’ve had a long night. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She throws her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.

  I open the door for her, and we step outside, leaving Jordan standing alone in the shop.

  After one last look at Jordan, who looks like a lost puppy standing at the window, I speed away. I know one thing: if looks could kill, I’d be dead.

  “So, where are we headed?” I ask, hoping she asks me to take her somewhere more intimate.

  “Umm, I’m headed home. You can head wherever you want,” she says with a smile.

  I slow my car down so I can prolong my time with her. I need to ask her out, but my nerves are shot. What is wrong with me?

  She tells me where she lives, and I head off in that dir
ection. After a few minutes down the road, the silence is deafening.

  “I’d like to see you again.” I tell her.

  Smooth. Don’t sound too desperate.

  “You want to see me again? Why?” she asks, after directing me to her house.

  “What do you mean, why? Can’t I want to spend time with you?”

  I glance over to see her looking at me out of the corner of her eyes. She’s skeptical, and now I need to lay on the Trace-full-of-grace charm.

  “Hey, I thought we were getting along here,” I say, trying to lighten the mood, but failing.

  She shifts in her seat and lets out a breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve just had a bad night.”

  “It’s okay. You want to talk?” I ask again, hoping she takes me up on the offer. I seriously want to know what’s up with her and that dude from the coffee shop, but I’ll never come right out and ask her.

  Vanessa laughs a hysterical laugh. Did I say something wrong? She giggles so hard she may burst. You know when someone laughs and then you laugh, with no rhyme or reason? My laughter erupts from deep within my belly and takes hold. Driving down the darkened streets, our hysteria fills the car.

  “Hey, I’m glad I could cheer you up.” Facing her for a brief moment, I listen to her coo. It is the softest sound. It purrs like my Cobra’s engine. Happy to be the one to make her smile, pride fills me.

  What could have upset her?

  “Thank you. I needed that,” she says as her laughter ceases, and she glances out the window, leading me down the street toward her house.

  “You gonna go out with me or what?” I ask, bluntly.

  “Wow, does this work on other girls?” She shifts in the seat to face me.

  I turn left on the street where she lives, and she points to the last house. I only have a little time, and I need to seal this deal.

  “Yeah, actually, it does.”

  Her home is yellow with a wrap-around porch. In her driveway is a silver sports car. I pull behind it and put my Cobra in park.

  “Whose car?” I ask.

  “My roommate Maxine is home,” she informs me as she gathers her things to exit the car.