Bad Intentions Page 3

  I’m in a daze as I try to take in all of this information and remember everyone’s names. Tilting my head up, I make eye contact with the other male in the room. It’s then that I really notice the guy that he called Ryle. In the seconds it takes Taylor to wrap up his convo with Zoe, I rake Ryle over head to toe, with appreciative eyes. He’s tall, but not awkward and gangly. He seems built— not like a jock on steroids—but like a guy who occasionally picks up a set of weights. And by occasionally, I mean like every other day. He looks good. And although his body isn’t painted with art like your typical bad boy, there is a certain sex appeal that oozes off him like hot lava. I wouldn’t mind getting burned— maybe even torched—by his touch.

  Something primal rises from inside of me and escapes my pursed lips as I let myself soak in the beauty that is Ryle. Did I just make a noise? My cheeks flush with the realization that I literally just freaking growled like some wild animal. I pray that no one heard me. Maybe it sounded like wimpy little ruff. I sure as hell hope so.

  Ryle’s jaw line is tight as he stares blankly back at me. That’s when I realize that he hasn’t said a single word since he and Taylor barged in.

  “What’s with him? Is he mute?” I laugh at my cleverness, knowing that Zoe used almost the same line on me. I wait for someone to answer, but no one pipes up. Silence lingers in the room, and by the shocked expressions on their faces, I understand I’ve made some sort of mistake. Hey, it’s barely my fault. I was just trying to keep up.

  This isn’t the time or place. That’s evident.

  Face palm.

  His voice is edgy and impersonal as he speaks. “Like he said, I’m Ryle.”

  Punch to the gut.

  I knew someone as beautiful as him has to have one major flaw. Unfortunately, his is his lack of personality.

  Taylor chimes in, “Don’t be a douche.” He nudges Ryle’s side playfully, which I’m sure is a silent bro gesture-type thing. “Ryle’s not a people person, as you can clearly tell.”

  “So what’s that make you, an alien?” Another lame joke slips past my lips, and I cringe a little on the inside at my lack of filter.

  “I’ll be anything you want me to be, baby.” Taylor interjects with a wink. It doesn’t make me want to hurl, as that sort of lameness usually does. I’ve heard more pick-up lines from immature dudes than I care to admit— after all, I did attend public school. But Taylor’s words don’t make me want to punch him the gonads. I guess because I know he’s joking. It actually puts me at ease, and oddly, I feel comfortable with him even if he’s a horrible flirt.

  Just like Zoe, I think her brother will grow on me. Smiling at him, I silently thank him for coming to my rescue.

  The faint sound of Ryle blowing out an exasperated breath catches my attention. His broad shoulders move as he reaches forward and extends his hand. I can tell, like Taylor, introductions aren’t really his thing, but I reach toward Ryle’s outstretched hand, knowing he’s only doing it because he feels like he has to. My excuse is because I want to touch him. As our hands meet in a warm clasp, an electrifying shudder reverberates through me and causes my body to ignite in flames.

  “Alright let’s roll.” Taylor’s words interrupt the strangest moment I’ve ever experienced. “I’ll pick you up later, Z. Don’t make me wait. And you,” Taylor points in my direction. “Make sure you’re ready, because you’re my arm candy tonight.” With a sly wink, he heads toward the door. Ryle follows suit without as much as a goodbye.

  Figures.

  The thump of Ryle’s heartbeat could be felt all the way in his throat. The steady rhythm beat in a way that made a glare form on his face with each wallop. He knew this feeling all too well. He was familiar with the want and need that an attractive woman made him feel, and pushed it aside brashly, knowing that sex was never just sex.

  Ryle pulled at the collar of the jersey that suddenly felt more like a noose than a simple piece of cloth. The girl in front of him was so damn gorgeous, he couldn’t even fathom how God would do something as cruel as to dangle her in front of him, when he’d rather saw off his left testicle than to subject any woman to his demons.

  As he stood only inches from the dorm room doorway, he debated backing away and jetting. Fleeing the presence of this unpleasant situation was best. Oddly enough, he was able to stand calmly by, while his idiot friend tried to make small talk with his sister’s new bunk-buddy. Ryle knew he was a master at playing it cool, so he simply did what he knew best.

  He craned his neck to the side, straining to make eye contact with someone other than her. He thought that if she wasn’t in his line of vision, he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her. Ryle was dead wrong. The girl was a master temptress. She caught his gaze and didn’t let go. He was captivated by blonde hair that looked a tad distressed and tangled, resting on the top of her head in a loose knot. The way she stared so blatantly at him as if she had no modesty, caught him off-guard. Her stare made him feel exposed and under scrutiny, and that was a feeling that he wasn’t used to.

  Not only did this peculiar exchange cause him to question his willpower, it also reminded him of when he’d last gotten laid. It apparently had been too long, because he couldn’t even recall the last time. He was absolutely famished, but was well aware that it wasn’t food he craved. I’m pathetic, he thought to himself, as he shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable in his own skin.

  The tip of his Converse-covered toe hit a bag on the floor. He knew it contained her stuff— Adaley’s belongings from home. He didn’t have to say her name out loud. Just the sound of it replaying in his head was sexy enough.

  And the fact that he found her sexy was dangerous in and of itself. For females, sex came along with feelings of romantic notions, and that’s the part that made him freeze. A relationship was his get-out-free clause. Going into any mutual sexual “friendship,” he always made it clear where he drew the line. Still, love and lust always blend. Line or not, feelings always fuck things up.

  Clearing his throat, he let himself think about wrapping his hand around her hair and tugging. He wondered what she would do. Would she protest, or would she be willing to endure the pain? The thought alone made him shift his position once again.

  This was so wrong.

  He silently cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to wonder to that forbidden place. Knowing you couldn’t have the one thing that you desired more than anything was pure torture, and he wasn’t willing to risk the chance of anyone falling in love with him again.

  To Ryle Benson, torture had become his middle name.

  I came here to be bad— to find my inner diva and let my hair down. If Taylor wants me to be his arm candy, I need to shower. I inconspicuously sniff my armpit. Yes ma’am. I so need to drench myself in some H2O, although, I’m positive the water won’t wash away the giddy feeling that is stirring in my gut.

  My first college party.

  My first real party where there weren’t adults chaperoning from afar, watching your every move like a nun.

  Zoe snags my arm as I pass by her bed. “Ryle’s off limits.” She cautions.

  Her words catch me off guard. Why would she feel the need to warn me? It’s not like he showed me any interest. “Is he married? A drug lord? Does he have the clap?” Questions fly out of my mouth faster than my filter can keep up.

  “Ha-ha. No way. I doubt that boy will ever get married. And he wouldn’t touch drugs. He might have the clap. I don’t know.” She struggles to keep the smile off her face.

  I can feel my nose bunching together with curiosity. “Explain.”

  “Ryle is just…well, he’s just a dick.”

  “Ah. I get it. You have a thing for him. I’ll back off.” As soon as the words pass my lips, a sudden, unexpected sting settles in my heart. Go figure. The first bad boy I meet is shacking up with my roomie.

  “Hell no! He’s my brother’s friend. Why? I have no flipping clue, if we’re being honest. Tank is a total jokester half the time, and R
yle is like an old brooding soul. He’s mostly a loner, and he’s always a pleasure to be around. Kidding. I just meant that he’s emotionally off limits. I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend, and not to be all judgey on you Adaley, but you totally seem like the girl who wants to tame the player. You’ll get cut in the process. I’ve seen it time and time again.”

  “You’ve pegged me wrong again, dear.” I hold onto a towel, clutching it in my hands. “I could already tell he’s far from the definition of Prince Charming. It’s a good thing I tossed the dream for a happily ever after out the window on my way into town. Now get ready, because tonight is going to get crazy!” I pray I can hang with the big dogs, because the way I’m talking myself up makes it seem like I’m one hell of a partier.

  “I saw you yawning earlier. Are you sure you have it in you?”

  She’s testing me.

  “I’m game for whatever.”

  The sound of amusement follows me to the bathroom.

  I’m thankful we have our own shower. I don’t even mind that the stall is so small I can barely reach down to shave my legs. I know what happens in coed showers. Not first hand, but I did some pretty extensive research on college life before I left home, and standing in a confined place where someone just did the dirty, isn’t ideal. That’s how I learned about the clap.

  Nasty.

  Lukewarm water cascades down my body as I rinse away the stench of my car ride. The smell of apple shampoo lingers in the air. It reminds me of home. As happy as I am to be gone and to have the chance to experience new things, I still miss home.

  I’ve got to look super hot tonight, I think as I turn the knob off, wrap a towel around my body, and lean forward to run both hands through my long, blonde locks. The party is a welcome distraction.

  The mirror is foggy as I grab a toothbrush from my bathroom caddy and apply an ample amount of paste. As I brush, I think about Ryle. How could my mind not go there? He’s different. Quiet. Standoffish. He’s the definition of bad. I could see badassness seeping from his pores. My newly found rebellion was drawing me toward him. I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to.

  I’m not one to believe in that insta-love jargon, but I do believe in lust. My education on that subject was pretty much learned while watching romance movies I’d snuck into the house. Let’s face it— my life was negative in the lust department prior to my move. What I had with Mark was as non-sexual as a relationship could get. He was my best friend. Sometimes we kissed, and by sometimes, I mean very rarely. Maybe on special occasions like birthdays, Valentine’s Day and Christmas. He was safe, which is exactly what I needed at the time when my life revolved around gymnastics. He understood my dedication and never gave me any flack for putting him on the back burner. Because of that, we worked. Okay, let’s just throw this out there. Dating Mark was basically like dating my cousin.

  This move to college is about me putting my own wants first, and I want a heart pounding, exotic, college experience. I actually want to get my heart broken, because it’s something I’ve never experienced, and maybe I’ll break a few hearts in the process too. I want to dance on tabletops and hear the sounds of men whistling and encouraging me to move my hips. I want to stay up all night and go to class with yesterday’s makeup still on. I know my to-do list may sound immature or trivial to some, but when you’ve never ventured on the dangerous side of life, you start to wonder about everything you’re missing.

  Bottom line— I don’t want to become a crazy cat lady.

  A soft knock on the door startles me. “You done in there?”

  Rinsing my mouth, I spit and then open the door behind me. “I just need to throw on some clothes and a little make-up.”

  Zoe puckers her lips together, and I wonder if she’s going to quack. “’Kay. What are you wearing?”

  “I don’t know.” I want to look sexy though. That’s a given. I enlist Zoe’s help. “I’m not sure. I tossed everything I owned in the garbage when I left home. Stopped at a mall and bought everything new.”

  “You’re not kidding are you?”

  I smirk. “Nope.”

  “You amaze me every time your mouth opens. What was wrong with your old clothes?” she probes.

  “I was the preacher’s daughter,” I say out loud, divulging a little bit of myself. “Let’s say those clothes wouldn’t exactly attract any men tonight.” Unzipping my suitcase, I hold my hand out and gesture to it. “Have at it.”

  Giving Zoe free rein to pick out my outfit is a little frightening, considering I don’t even know if she has style. Oh well. She’s here, and I’m clueless, so...

  “Alright,” she says while rummaging through my belongings. “I think these super-freaking-short daisy dukes will work paired along with this cheetah-print top. Shoes?”

  “In the other bag,” I tell her.

  “How about these black strappy ones?”

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  “How are you doing your hair?”

  “I figured it’s too hot to blow dry. I’ll probably just let it dry naturally, so it’s wavy.” I hope she approves.

  “Sounds good. I’m wearing that maxi dress hanging on the door.”

  I glance to my left. It’s cute. Thank God she has good taste. I assumed that because she’s a ball player, she’d be sporting something with Braxton University written on it. Again, I’m wrong. I guess that’s what I get for judging a book by its cover.

  “You know that cheetah print is like the staple of a slut’s wardrobe don’t you?”

  I nod.

  “Let me piece this together. You’re the preacher’s daughter, and you’re choosing to dress like a little tramp? Oh. Em. Gee,” she squeals without catching a breath. “You want to be a party girl. I feel ya. I’d want to live a little too.” She gets it, finally. “That’s why you’re digging Ryle.”

  “I just want to have fun. I’ve been sheltered my entire life. This is a new start for me. And I’m not digging him per se. I think he’s bad news, but I’d be lying if I said that didn’t attract me.” I lay it on the line and feel slightly ashamed of myself.

  “Then get your butt dressed, and let me show you how we have fun in Biloxi!”

  “She was freaking gorgeous.” Tank said to Ryle as the pair made their way through a set of double doors and down a staircase leading to the parking lot.

  Making their way back to Tank’s car, Ryle didn’t give his friend’s remark any undue importance, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about his comment. Of course she was gorgeous, he thought, succumbing to his basic nature. After all, he was in possession of a set of twig and berries dangling between his legs. Still, he kept his lips sealed as his feet met the pavement under his soles. With each stride, he tried harder to forget the girl who’d just squeezed her way into their tight-knit circle of friends.

  “Don’t you think so?” Tank was about as relentless as a possum in a pile of garbage.

  “Sure. She’s okay.” Ryle shrugged. “Maybe an eight. If she did something with that rat’s nest,” he said, shoving a finger at his head. Hoping Tank didn’t realize he was lying through his teeth, Ryle jumped into the passenger seat of his friend’s red sports car and tried to change the subject. “You bringing anyone to the party tonight?

  He knew his friend’s expressions well from having spent the summer together during long, grueling baseball practices. The one he wore now had pegged Ryle as an idiot.

  “Ugh, duh. Adaley. Didn’t you just hear me tell her that?” Ryle felt the muscles in his jaw tighten about the same time that he saw Tank notice. “No way, man. You don’t get her. Come on, I just said she was my date.”

  Ryle gritted his teeth as Tank pressed on the accelerator and pulled out onto the tree-lined street.

  As a lightweight feather drops, it waves in the air, gently and ever so softly floating to the ground. Likewise, as the topic was dropped, it gently and ever so softly registered with Tank, that Adaley Knight was off limits.

  Twenty minutes later, w
e’re both dressed and sitting on the curb outside of our dorm. As I look around, I’m amazed to see the campus come to life right before my eyes. Biloxi must have one hell of a nightlife.

  “Tank said they’d be here in a few minutes.”

  “They?”

  Zoe throws her head back, laughing. “Tank and your crush.” She nudges my shoulder with hers. The mention of Ryle causes the butterflies in my stomach to awaken. The fluttering both excites me and makes me want to hurl.

  “That’s his car, come on.” She stands and takes my hand in hers to pull me up.

  Before the vehicle comes to a halt, the passenger side window rolls down. I see the profile of a male. It’s dark against the moonlight, but I see it’s Ryle as he leans forward a bit and his sapphire eyes catch mine.

  “I love your outfit. Did it come with a pole?” There isn’t a hint of a grin on his chiseled face. He’s dead serious, and it’s disrespectful. I thought I caught a glimpse of his rudeness before, but this version of himself is much more offensive.

  I place my hand on the window seal of the car, not bothering to acknowledge him. Leaning forward, I try to sound seductive. “Hey Tank, I’m yours tonight, right?” I flutter my heavy lashes in his direction. I can feel Ryle’s breath blowing against my cheek as he exhales. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t attracted to him, but truthfully, it’s a little early in this new endeavor to put up with his shit.

  “You’re calling me Tank now huh? I like it! Get in little kitten.”

  “Kitten?” I question.

  “Your shirt. The cheetah print. I likey.”

  I giggle. “You likey everything.”

  “Everything about you.” Tank says, causing a second riot of butterflies to swarm in my gut. Swoon. He’s so sweet, and he isn’t bad on the eyes either. That is, if you can look past the ginger of his hair. I’m tempted to ask him if the drapes match downstairs, but I refrain, knowing that no one thought I’d been very humorous today.

  “Ryle, get the hell out so we can get in!” I hear Zoe growl from behind me. He doesn’t budge.