Unethical (7 page)

Chapter Seven

Payton

Jules pulled her hair back and tied it off with a tan elastic. She opened the door to the gym and said, “Things with Blake aren’t going to work out.”

I walked through the doorway and turned to her. Had I heard her right? “Why?”

We started our trek up the two flights of stairs to the indoor track. She was slightly out of breath as she said, “Some lame-o excuse he gave me last night when he took me back to his room.”

“What excuse?” My innards did a happy Snoopy dance as we reached the top of the stairs and walked through the hallway. Not that I particularly enjoyed my best friend being miserable, but at least now I wouldn’t have murderous thoughts when she brought up Blake.

What was with that kiss last night? It wasn’t like the way he used to kiss me. This time was urgent and needy, not like before when he would take his time and explore every inch of my skin. The way his lips melted into mine… If I had continued, I’d never be able to get over him. He was like a drug, and I needed to be in a twelve-step program to resist these urges.

The entrance of the indoor track opened to a carpeted area for stretching and a wall with locked cubbies that stored personal belongings.

I sat down on the carpet, stuck both legs straight in front of me, and touched my toes.

“Some bullshit excuse about not being over his ex.”

My breath caught, and I buried my burning face in my quads. Was he actually being sincere when he said he was still trying to get over me? Doubtful. Blake had a smooth tongue. A very nice, smooth one. I tried not to think about that tongue, my cheeks heating in response. But to tell Jules he wasn’t over his ex. Well, that couldn’t be me. Too much time had passed; there had to be someone else.

“That sucks.” I busied myself with retying my ponytail, looking anywhere but at Jules.

“Wonder who it is.” She tapped something in her phone and then shot me a look. “She’s a dumb bitch. How could she seriously dump him? He’s a total catch.”

Oh God. I didn’t have it in me to explain my fifteen-month relationship with Blake. And now she thought I was a dumb bitch. Just freakin’ great.

And, yeah, he was a great catch, but he came along with too much baggage—like choosing Ryan over me when I needed him the most. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was still hung up on me.

I needed to clear my mind, to think of anything but Blake. “Mind if I run a few warm-up laps?” I gave Jules credit for offering to run with me, but she was more of the window shop at mall exercise type than a conditioned athlete. Don’t get me wrong, power shopping was exhausting, but it didn’t use the same set of muscles as running.

She waved me off, still hyper-focused on her phone.

I cranked up the music on my iPod to the point where I’d receive hearing aids as a thirtieth birthday present. My feet pounded against the rubber in lane one, and each step sent delicious tingles up my legs. Fergie and I were up in the gym working on our fitness as I mouthed the words and lost myself in the music. Rounding the corner, my muscles twitched in anticipation for a full-out sprint.

My arms brushed my sides as I accelerated my pace. I passed a guy two lanes to my right who had sweat soaking the back of his gray T-shirt. My feet made contact with the ground on each beat of the song. All I focused on was my stride and breathing, nothing else. Nothing could hurt me when it was just my music and a place to run. I needed to escape.

He’s not over his ex. Maybe he’s not over me.

No. We were over. Period. End of story.

Chapter Eight

Blake

Not too many things made me see red. Actually, I could only think of two: Andrew’s hands all over Payton, and my Aunt Lily. An email from my aunt sat in my inbox like a steaming plate of pretentiousness with a side of bitchiness.

I decided to open the email now. Like hands being duct-taped to a forty during a drunken night of Edward Fortyhands, it was better to get it over with all at once and rip it off. Unfortunately, the annoying, stinging pain didn’t go away in regards to my aunt. She was more like an irritating gnat that dive-bombed my head every five minutes.

Dearest Blake,

I hope the $100 I sent you last month was enough to cover the cost of food. I am wiring another $100 tomorrow. If you want to earn some more money, you could always come help re-floor my apartment. Well, I am off to take Frederick to the groomer. Chuck and I are traveling to Vail for Thanksgiving, so please find somewhere else to spend your holiday.

Aunt Lily

I equated Aunt Lily emails to that of having a one-sided conversation with an ADD kid. Completely beyond me how she had her master’s and worked as an accountant.

The amount of fucked-up things with this email piled higher than my overflowing garbage can full of takeout cartons and coffee cups. With Lily being the executor of Mom’s estate, she had held the insurance money over my head for almost five years. I wouldn’t get the money until I turned twenty-five, so when it came to college, I depended on last minute scholarships and my aunt’s money. And she always looked for ways to make my life hell now with her money invested in my future.

A hundred bucks? A laughable amount in terms of food. If it weren’t for the frat, I’d be one scrawny-ass dude living off Ramen noodles.

My mouse hovered over the reply button. Did I really need to respond to her? If I wanted any extra cash, yes.

I clicked reply and started typing.

Dearest Aunt Lily,

You’re far too kind. It breaks my heart to say that I will not be able to help re-floor your apartment. I will be wallowing in self-pity due to the fact I cannot be at your service. I need to study for midterms, but I will be able to help out with small projects around the house when I come home for winter break. Have a GREAT holiday.

Blake

Barf.

Aunt Lily didn’t speak fluent sarcasm; it was something that flew over her head whenever I’d made snide remarks in the past. If she had noticed, she’d never let on.

My phone beeped, taking me out of my Aunt Lily-induced stupor. My heart sped up as I grabbed the phone and turned on the screen. Jules. I didn’t know who to expect, but definitely not her, not after the most awkward breakup in the course of my pathetic dating history. My pulse stalled to a lazy thump as I read her message.

J: Where are you? Class is almost starting.

The clock in the corner of my computer screen read 8:53.

Shit.

At least it only took five minutes to walk from the A Sig house to class. I pulled my fraternity letters hoodie over my head and rushed out the side entrance.

Jules smiled and brushed her hand across my arm as I eased into my seat. She had, for the most part, backed off since our crash-and-burn date at the drive-in, but she still liked to touch my arm. A lot.

“Thanks for the text. You saved my ass.”

She squeezed my hand. “No prob.”

My notebook and pen sat ready on the fold-out desk with two minutes to spare. I ignored Jules’s hand still stroking my arm and risked a glance at Payton. I immediately regretted that decision. Her frosty glare sent a chill running through my core.
Welcome back, Ice Queen.

“Good morning, everyone. After that very stimulating conversation last week, I’ve decided to start our group project early. You may pick from the topics listed on the board and have up to four people in your group.”

Behind him was a list of at least twenty topics to choose from.

Before Dr. Centafont finished his instructions, students were picking out group members. Jules and Payton included.

“This is too easy. Payton, Blake, and Andrew.” She bounced in her seat. Damn, this girl needed an intervention for her sugar intake. By the way Jules packed down junk food, she probably crapped out rock candy. She was on a crash course to Diabetes Land.

Andrew draped his arm across Payton’s shoulders. “Sounds good to me.” Lucky for him, Jules sat between us, or else I’d remove his arm from its socket.

Payton stared absently at her notebook sitting on the desk, her thumb ruffling the pages. “Yep.”

Just peachy.

I’d asked for this— Hell, it was for the best, but damn if it didn’t twist my insides seeing a frown on her face. The need to go over there and comfort her was encoded in my DNA, but that part of my job description didn’t exist anymore. It was Andrew’s job. That thought hurt worse than any ass kicking.

Dr. Centafont said, “I see that everyone is chomping at the bit, so I’ll let you choose your topics and use this class time to do some research at the library. You’ll need to post information on the topic, along with the pros and cons, and respond to three classmates on the class forum.” He held up a paper, waving it around. “Also, your group will need to make a poster. Guidelines are in the syllabus. Class dismissed.”

I scanned the list of topics on the screen.

Early diagnosis of learning disabilities in children

When to send someone to hospice

Overprescribing pain medicines

Assisted suicide

FDA rules and regulations

Before I had a chance to read through the entire list, Andrew said, “Let’s do assisted suicide. Nothing like researching that fucker in jail.”

Holy hell.

I glanced at Payton, the color draining from her face as she squeezed the shit out of the armrest. This crisis needed to be averted. I couldn’t sit around and let this douche annihilate her dad.

“I’d rather do the childhood learning disability diagnosis,” I said with enough nonchalance that he wouldn’t think this topic choice was a big deal.

“Of course you would, Mr. Future Pediatrician. Grow a pair. The assisted suicide one is an easy A.”

Like father like son. Dr. Centafont must have fueled this sudden hatred Andrew had toward Payton’s dad. No clue why Dr. Centafont disliked him so much, but he sure made an attempt to shoot Dr. Cooper down any chance he got.

“Maybe you should expand your horizons. Plus, you don’t know the whole story.”

“And you do?”

Jules looked nervously from me to Andrew, her ponytail whipping me in the face when she turned. “Guys, why don’t we make a compromise?”

Payton stood and grabbed her backpack. “No. Let’s do assisted suicide.”

“That’s my girl,” said Andrew. He patted her leg and brushed his fingers across her ass.

My inner-Hulk rage threatened to ensue until Payton swatted away his hand and walked toward the aisle.

Good. Stay away from him.

An Arctic blast funneled through the quad as we made our way to the library. Brown leaves littered the ground, leaving the cement a slippery mess that guaranteed to keep the hospital busy. I folded my arms across my chest and tried to not look as cold as my frozen testicles.
Sorry, buddies.

The tall glass windows of the library came into view as we walked past the Memorial Union. My home away from home. People might as well address my mail to the fifth floor.

The rotunda on any floor constituted as prime studying real estate. Students roamed around the room for an open table like my A Sig brothers circling the dance floor, looking for a hot chick to get lucky with at a party. Once one opened up, it was an all-out sprint. For those already seated, this was fucking hilarious to watch. If not, it sucked balls to wait another fifteen minutes until someone else packed up to leave.

“Oh my god, there’s an open table!” Jules ran to a table overlooking the fourth floor. She cut off a dude wearing Kappa Sig letters and chucked her backpack onto the table.

The Kappa Sig grunted and threw his arms above his head. “What the fuck!”
Fuck
echoed through the cavernous room, and I bit the inside of my cheek to resist chuckling.

Jules planted her hands on her hips and stood her ground in front of our newly acquired table. “Sorry.” Her tone conveyed anything but sorry.

I maneuvered myself in between Jules and the Kappa Sig in case he wanted to throw down with a chick in front of all these people in the library. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” He mumbled “bitch” under his breath as he stormed out of the rotunda.

I high-fived Jules. “Nice job.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo. You just gotta show them who’s boss.” She snapped her fingers in a Z pattern across her chest.

Payton let out a loud sigh and slammed her backpack on the table. If we weren’t all med majors, I’d think she carried around bricks or a small arsenal. She said, “You’re ridiculous.”

Jules smiled and shrugged. She and Andrew pulled laptops out of their backpacks and plugged their power cords in the center console.

“I didn’t bring my laptop today. I’m gonna head down to the first floor and get on a computer.” Not to mention my laptop’s sad condition, on its last leg. Nobody needed to witness the ghetto-ness that could be classified as my laptop.

“How about you and Payton research state laws for assisted suicide?”

Payton’s warm breath ran across the back of my neck as she stood behind me in the computer area.

“You didn’t have to do that for me.”

I smiled at the screen. Finally, I did something right. Maybe she’d got it through her head I wasn’t the douche bag ex she made me out to be. “I know.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles. I’m a big girl.”

“You seem pretty small to me, fun size.” She flinched at the use of my nickname for her in high school. She hated it, but I thought it suited her well. Tiny and delicious—just like the miniature-sized candies.

She scoffed, and a blush spread across her cheeks. “You know what I meant.” Flipping through her notebook she said, “What state should we look up first? Washington?” Her voice came out calm and even, but I couldn’t help but notice she refused to look at me the entire way to the computer area.

This subject hit too close to home for her. I didn’t think she’d be up to researching this topic, not with Dr. Cooper’s trial starting in a couple months. The news stations had a countdown, always willing to add their two cents about the situation. I should have put up more of a fight with Andrew. No matter my feelings toward her, she didn’t deserve to go through this shit.

“Sure. How about you type and I’ll take notes.” I pulled up the research database program and scooted off the stool.

She hopped on the stool and typed in
Washington Assisted Suicide Laws.

About twenty different sources popped up immediately. I let out a low whistle. A long day of research lay ahead of us, especially writing about a few states. Her knuckles turned white as she held the mouse in a death grip. Time to break the tension before she broke school property.

“You know, you’re kinda cute when you concentrate. Got that whole constipated look down. Add in some grunts, and I think you’ll be good to go.”

It came out of left field, but I was pretty sure this would take her mind off her dad for a few moments.

She shook her head, and even standing behind her I knew she rolled her eyes. Good, it worked. “Thanks. Just what I was going for.” She clicked the print button on an article and said, “How’s your aunt?”

“Oh, you know, same stick up her ass, different day.”

She giggled and turned to face me. Her legs were on either side of mine, and I moved in closer. Our thighs brushed together, and she opened wider, inviting me in. The logo on the front of her hoodie moved with her erratic breathing. I zeroed in on the soft spot on her neck right below her jaw, my mouth just inches away, close enough to kiss her smooth skin.

I couldn’t help it. Being this close to her drew me in like a jumbo magnet that attracts metal from across the room. My options of keeping my heart intact didn’t include getting back with her, but my resolve to push her out of my life disintegrated in her presence.

Stop being such a vag.

A flush crept across the exposed skin of her neck. “Come on. She’s not that bad.” Her breath fanned my face, and I ached to close the six-inch gap between our lips.

Damn. I couldn’t do this, not again. She had crushed me once. What was to say she wouldn’t do it again?
Cool it, Hiller
.

I rocked back on my heels, putting some distance between us. I poked her side and said, “You didn’t have to live with her.”

“I guess you’re right.” She playfully swatted my hand away and grabbed my finger. The touch sent jolts of electricity straight to my heart, like someone had just went all Pulp Fiction on my ass and stabbed me with an EpiPen. Okay, fuck it. I’d go to hell and back just for another chance with her.

“Like always.”

Her eyes rolled so far back into her head, only the whites visible with a hint of green. “Men.”

I brushed the back of my hand over her soft cheek, and she leaned into my touch. Her lips parted, and she closed her eyes. If I leaned in and kissed her, would she go along with it or shut me down like she did at the drive-in?

Thoughts of taking her right here in this fucking library invaded every neuron in my brain. Damnit, I was hard again. I shifted and pulled my hoodie lower to hide my raging erection.

Puppies.

Me-Maw.

Aw, hell, I just needed to say some smart-ass comment to keep my cool and not let her see how much I wanted her. Way too vulnerable for my taste.

I leaned in and whispered, “Who’s your daddy?” As soon as the words left my mouth, it was clear I had fucked up in epic proportions. I used to say that to her all the time in high school to get a rise out of her. Old habits die hard. And apparently bite me in the ass.

Her eyes flew open, and she gave me the Marvin the Martian glare.