Pitching to Win (Over the Fence #1) (4 page)

T
hrowing
the heavy textbook off my lap, I huff and slump back into the couch. I was mentally and physically drained. It had been a week since Owen had blown my world to smithereens, and just like he’d predicted, every night I laid awake in bed, unable to will away the assault of memories that made my skin tingle and my center clench.

I’d tried my best to stay distracted, following my daily schedule and not veering. As if OCD was the cure-all for hot, muscled men who wanted to give you mind-blowing orgasms and then “fuck you into next Tuesday.”

When I could finally pick myself up off of the floor where I’d collapsed in a confused and angry heap after Owen had slammed his way out, I’d gone into autopilot. My daily chores got done, I worked out, attended my pre-college summer courses and drowned myself in novels. But constantly, going on a loop in the back of my head, was Owen.

His hands on me, the way he looked into my eyes with that molten stare that made me feel like I was going to combust. The way he rolled his hips in to meet my core, and how freaking good that had felt. The smell of his musk as he moved his lips over mine, tasting and savoring how we fit together, all the while his hands exploring my cheeks, neck and jaw.

When he’d asked me if any guy had ever made me cum, I didn’t know it was possible to be so turned on and embarrassed at the same time. His talk was dirty and exciting. I hadn’t answered though. He didn’t need to know he’d only been the second male to ever touch me like that, and the only one to get me to that spot.

Coming down from that high had been like nothing I’d ever experienced. But once I had, reality gave me a swift kick in the ass.

He’d gotten me right where he’d wanted me. And he hadn’t even had to work for it. He didn’t even know my middle name. God, I had officially become
that
girl, again. I should have ignored his tactics, his charm, his smile.

I’d told him multiple times that his panty-melting smile wouldn’t affect me, and then he’d gone and incinerated them from the first moment he’d laid a finger on me. No wonder he’d lumped me into the slut category with all the other groupies he’d banged.

That one unfinished sentence, “Do you…?” hit me square between the eyes. Was I that predictable that this was happening to me again? Did they all think of me as easy?

I thought having some fun would be good for me, letting go and figuratively getting back in the saddle. But when he’d broached the sex topic, all I could see was Gregory’s face looming over me.

That smile. At the time I hadn’t suspect just how horrible the intentions behind it were. His eyes raking over my body, the uncomfortable feelings and sensations. How stupid I’d been.

Owen could take the story back to his friends. They could all hurl whatever new abuse at me that they wanted, but I’d rest well knowing I hadn’t fallen into their trap. Again.

You don’t get your hopes up for guys like Owen Axel. Not when they smile at you, not when they call you beautiful, not when they get you to start opening up, not ever.

So I did what I always do, brought out the raging bitch, intending to repulse and piss him off. Except now, I’m thinking I was the one who ended up with the raw end of the deal, because I hadn’t slept in five days.

After I’d read a sentence in my biology textbook for the fifth time, I finally decided to take a break. Taking summer courses for college credit, in some ridiculous attempt to complete undergrad in three years, had been my idea. And now I only had myself to blame for trying to ram knowledge into a brain on summer programming.

Just when I thought I’d have to force myself to finish the required reading, I hear the front door open with a whoosh.

“Minks, we have come to save you from your self-imposed solitary confinement!” Kels yells as her flip-flops clack on the tile in the hallway.

She and Chloe round the corner to where I sit in the living room, huffing when they see the open textbooks and notebooks strewn about. Neither of them even bother with a phone call or the doorbell anymore, they we were my family and came and went as they pleased.

“Seriously? You’re doing homework? Its the second week of summer break, you’re pale as a ghost, and we haven’t talked to you in four days. What the hell is up with you?” Kelsey practically screams at me.

“I’ve texted you like a million times! Either your phone is broken, highly unlikely, or more likely, you’re avoiding us,” Chloe goes in on me next.

“I’m fine guys, just been busy with these classes and um, getting chores done.” I know I’m lying straight through my teeth, and lamely at that, but I can’t help it.

“Oh bullshit, your dad can’t even bother to check if you’re alive, much less care if the house is clean, “ Kels visibly winces at her beyond true statement, “Sorry, that was harsh. I just mean that you pulled those excuses out of your ass. Now what’s going on? We’re worried.”

I’d been so wrapped up in my own head for the past week, that I hadn’t realized how much I needed my friends. They would understand why I’d thrown Owen out. I recount the tale, leaving out a lot of the naughty details I know they would feed on like hungry wolves.

“Woah, woah, woah, let me get this straight. So he kissed you, said dirty things in your ear and then hijacked your body to do very naughty, delicious things to you? I don’t get the problem here.” Chloe tips up her chin, looking very much like she was trying to imagine the sexual fantasy. I needed to shut down that visual recap ASAP.

“It wasn’t as 50 Shades as you think, so quit creating the porn scene running through your head right now.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it either. Isn’t this what you wanted? You should be proud. He’s hot and willing, and lord knows you need to dust the cobwebs out of your downstairs. So what does this mean? God I will be so proud if you tell me you’re striking up a friends-with-benefits deal!” Kels grins.

“Kels, I threw him out. He was using me, and don’t ask me how I know, I just do. That’s what these guys do to you. They seduce you, charm you into crushing on them and then pull the rug out from under you and laugh while you fall down the rabbit hole. Besides, why would
I
willingly agree to have a fuck buddy? Especially one who is a leader in the Mitchum cool crowd?” I arch a brow her way. “No, nothing is going on. I’m steering clear of Owen Axel.” I throw them a warning look, letting them know the conversation is done.

“Come on. I mean not every guy is trying to claim you for some prize. What happened was horrible, but you can’t live your life thinking every guy is going to suddenly take out a machete and gut you.” Kels faces me, worry lines dotting her face despite the ridiculous metaphor she’d just made.

“We’ll drop it for now,” Chloe jumps in, sensing my walls going up, “But I’ll just say, for someone who says nothing is going on, and that she doesn’t care, you look like shit. No offense. Case in point, those bags under your eyes are humongous and it looks like you haven’t straightened your hair in days. And we DO know you, so we know that means this is affecting you enough not to sleep, or care about the rat’s nest forming on your head.” Shooting me me a half sympathetic, half amused look, Chlo tries to run her fingers through said rat’s nest.

“But, we won’t talk about it until you are ready. Back to the original point of why we’re here. We’re going out. And before you argue, you’re coming so don’t even fight us.” Kels goes digging around in her bag. She pulls out a hair straightener, makeup, and begins to throw dozens of tiny little lacy items onto the coffee table.

Realization setting in, I begin to back away from what I know is coming.

“No, no, no. Uh-uh get away from me….” I tried to make my way out of the room, but Chloe grabs me from behind.

“That’s right! Makeover time! Sit in this chair and let us work. No fussing, like we said, you have no choice.”

The small amount of energy I have left in my body flees, and I give myself over to their torture, knowing that they’d prod and poke me for the next couple of hours whether I put up a fight or not.

T
hree hours
later I wiggle my way into the car, careful not to expose my butt in the white high-waisted shorts Chloe demanded I wear. Its a hard feat though, because leaning too far forward means my boobs will go tumbling out of the lacy peach tank top I’d fought to wear.

Kels had tried to put a crop top over my head until I’d grabbed the curling iron and warned her that she’d get burned, literally, if she tried to force me into the belly-baring shirt.

For all of their meddling, however, I did feel better. My mahogany hair fell in smooth sheets down my back, thanks to Chloe’s expensive European hair straightener. Kels, the makeup master, had outdone herself. Smoky brown tones made my eyes appear even bigger than they already were, but in a pretty way. Not like an alien, which is what usually happened when I tried that looked natural, but made my eyes pop. Not that I didn’t usually do myself up a little when we went out, but I usually went for casual chic and comfortable. Chlo and Kels always took it to the next level, but I had to admit that tonight their magic had me feeling confident.

“Ok, I’m in the car now and clearly am not going to jump into traffic. Can you please tell me where we are going?” I eye my two best friends who are now sharing a giggle in the front seat.

“Fine. We are having an all-out, ridiculously fun night attt…...THE FIELD!” Chloe claps, taking her hands off the wheel of her BMW.

“Aw, man come on guys, really? You thought you’d bring me out of my slump by bringing me to a party at which all the people who worship Owen and his cronies drink themselves silly and then get naked in tents?” Jumping out into traffic really didn’t sound like such a bad idea at this moment.

“Minks, relax. We brought your favorite beer, they’ll be playing the sickest music, and once we all get too wasted to stand, we’ll crash in our tent. Alone. It’s girl’s night, yes, but we could not pass up a Field Party.” Kels replies with a “duh” in her tone, as if this logic was going to convince me to put my party hat on.

The Field was exactly what it sounded like, a gigantic empty field. It sat on the 150-acre farm of the Merry family, who had five boys ranging from 13 to 24-years-old. Louis Merry was in our grade, and thus had taken over Field Party duty from his older brother Jackson about a year ago.

Their parents couldn’t care less what trouble they got up to on the property, and it was a great tradeoff for the teens of Mitchum, who were supplied with a place to get drunk, high and naked without fear of being caught by the cops.

Mitchum might be an affluent town with affluent people, but it was still North Carolina. These kids partied like country folk, even though one could consider Field Parties way more on the side of glamping.

Chloe winds the car up the hilly roads leading out of Mitchum. The only people who live on this side of town are those rich enough to build McMansions on the farm properties that used to exist, or the one or two families who still actually own farms. Hooking a right at the discrete gravel road, the car begins to rumble over the rough three mile stretch before Chloe pulls off, parking the car on a dryer portion of grass.

Climbing out of the back seat, I can feel the bass of the rap music emanating out over the field a few hundred yards away. My mood lifts considerably as the beat surges through my tendons, muscles, and bones. I might look like the typical conservative girl-next-door bookworm, but my guilty pleasure was hip-hop. Although I like all music, rap and hip-hop are my favorite. The bass and beat invade my body, sending pleasurable trills down my spine.

I walk toward the party with more of a pep in my step now that I can feel the beat conjoining with my blood.

“Oh look, DJ Braxton is a bit happier to be here now that she’s drowning her feelings in sick beats.” Kels hooks her arm around my neck, smiling. She and Chloe knew about my obsession and loved to tease me for being “so hood.”

I giggle as we walk arm and arm into the circle of partiers. The weight that has been sitting on my chest for the past seven days start to lift. So maybe giving this Field Party a chance wouldn’t kill me. Chlo plops her pink cooler on the ground in between two others, conjoining them to make a ring around the bonfire crackling in the center of the circle. Dusk has set in, and when she hands me a beer, I don’t hesitate to take a long pull from the neck before letting it rest in my hands.

I survey the party from outside the inner ring, which is probably a metaphor for my life. I’m not necessarily an outcast, but anytime I’ve felt like I could rejoin school society and begin to trust my classmates again, someone in the popular crowd was only too happy to remind me of the past. And that someone was usually Allison.

People laugh and talk, while a few lacrosse bros jostle each other over who would be able to jump through the fire. By the end of the night, I was willing to bet all three did it, whether they were successful or not.

The girls have already disappeared, and I spot them flirting with two guys in our grade who I can’t quite remember the names of. I take a seat on the cooler, casually continuing to sip my beer, and feel a sudden jolt of awareness niggling my spine. My head begins to swivel as if its attached to a string, and my vision latches directly onto Owen. Shit.

He’d just walked up the path into the circle, and is surrounded by a small group. I see him smile as his friend Miles throws him a beer, and my insides go haywire. My stomach drops and my feet start to tingle in their haste to move my body off this cooler and into his arms. But I stay planted.

I try to avert my eyes, but I can’t stop staring at how incredibly built and tan he is. Tonight he’s opted for a red and white striped cutoff tank and navy blue khaki shorts that outline his perfect backside. He looks like a Ralph Lauren model. His usual bed-head hair has been slicked back to one side, giving him this drool-worthy European vibe. He holds his big body with ease and confidence, and I want so badly to be under him, giving into his oh-so-good fingers.

Don’t let him have you. I need to repeat this mantra to myself. He didn’t think of me as anything but a challenging conquest, and had proven it when he hadn’t bothered trying to contact me for the last seven days.