You Before Me
Authors: Lindsay Paige
Tags: #romance, #coming of age, #college, #new adult, #lindsay paige, #you before me
Lindsay Paige
Copyright 2014 by Lindsay
Paige
Smashwords Edition
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This book is a work of fiction. Any
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Any actual places, products, or events mentioned are used in a
purely fictitious manner.
Cover Designed by:
Damonza
Edited by:
K² Editing
To my writing BFF, Mary
Smith.
You are more amazing than
words could ever describe.
Ryan
This is me on top of the world. I'm on
my hands and knees while one of the frat boys, (Tim, maybe?), has
my hips clutched tightly in his hands as he thrusts into me. It's
ironic that the music in the background is about wanting to know my
fantasy. This isn't it. He doesn't last much longer and he's
already pulling away. Damn it. If I was a wee bit sober, I'd make
him come back and finish me off too. No problem. I can do it
myself. He left, who knows where, so I fall onto my back on the
bed. My legs are spread open, and my hand reaches down to get the
job done.
“Seriously, Ryan?” he says, entering
the room just as I finish. Hey, at least he knows my name. More
than I can say for myself about him.
“Should have done it for me,” I slur,
singing the last part a little. Satisfied and too drunk to hold my
eyes open any longer, I pass out before he can say anything
else.
When I wake up, I'm still naked and my
head is pounding like there's a jackhammer grinding into my skull.
Fuck, this sucks. I wipe my cruddy feeling eyes and have some sort
of contentedness that I'm alone in frat-boy's room, if it's even
his room to start with. My memory is hazy, so I still don't know
who he is. The room doesn't have any obvious clues either. Oh well.
My mouth tastes gross, and I'm immediately dying to brush my teeth.
Ugh. I have to get back to my place first. Thank God for rich
parents. At least they are good for something. I get to live off
campus for free.
I begin a search around the room for
my clothes, but all I find are my bra, thong, and shirt. After
looking for a solid minute, I give up on my pants. I can drive home
without them. While I was in high school, I became a pro at
sneaking in and out of the house, and this will be no different. My
parents weren't opposed to me going out, but being sneaky about it
was so much more fun. There's a thrill that comes with it, and when
they didn't care I was leaving, I decided to pretend the stakes
were higher. So I would sneak in and out of my house like I would
be in serious trouble if I got caught. I can easily do this. For
one, it's my house. The tricky part will be that it's broad
daylight, and I'm not wearing pants. No biggie. I got
this.
With my shoulders squared and my head
held high, I walk out of the frat house filled with more passed out
bodies, my heels dangling from two of my fingers. My eyes squint
once I open the door, and I groan. Fucking sun. I shield my eyes
with my hand and spot my car parked by the curb. Thank you, sober
Ryan. Looks like I was smart enough to park close to the building.
I run to my car, open the little, square door to the gas cap, grab
my keys, and then slide into the driver's seat.
See? Like a pro. I should be a pro by
now, not because the amount of time I've been doing this, but for
the number of times I've done this. I grab a scrunchie from my gear
shift and throw my wavy, dark red hair up. Then I put on my
sunglasses to help with that god-awful sunlight before finally
pulling away to drive home. Now, I feel like I could conquer the
world. Last night wasn't a good example of my normal Saturday
nights, so I'm ready to get home, shower the filthiness away, and
brush my damn teeth.
I hate Sunday mornings. Hate. Them.
We're near a college town for God's sake. Why does everyone drive
like old people who are loafing around on a lazy Sunday evening?
Why? To piss me off probably. I've already given two people the
finger as I passed them. I am so that driver that everyone hates
and pisses people off. How it happened, I'm not sure. I still have
a good fifteen minutes to go when the worst sound in the world
begins.
Sirens. Blaring loudly to alert me of
the unwanted presence behind me.
Fucking cop. Great. Just what I need
this morning.
I pull onto the side of the road and
attempt to make my shirt cover more of my thighs, but it's useless.
Well, let's hope this guy likes legs and then I can get away with a
warning. He steps out of his car, so I roll my window down while he
walks up to me.
Smiling my sexy grin, I sweetly say,
“Good morning, Officer.”
He's older than I am and very hot. His
name tag simply reads: O'Connor. I can't see much of his hair, but
I know it's brown as are his eyes and beard, which is a little
thick. His eyes immediately land on my bare legs, and I swear he
blushes. What kind of man blushes? This should easily be a warning,
though. He quickly focuses on my face.
“License and registration,
please.”
“Yes, sir.” I lean over, probably
giving him a view of my bare ass, as I reach into the glove
compartment for the registration. “My license is in my purse, which
is in my backseat. One moment,” I tell him, holding up my index
finger once I've handed over his first request. If he didn't see my
ass before, he certainly does now.
“Why,” he clears his throat as he
looks over the license I gave him, “aren't you dressed?”
My shoulders lift and fall in a shrug
as if this isn't a big deal. “I stayed over at a friend's and
misplaced my jeans. I got tired of looking. Aren't you a little
young to be a cop?”
I'm half expecting that to piss him
off, but he just chuckles and gets back to business. “Do you know
why I pulled you over?”
“I was obviously doing something I
shouldn't have been doing. Are you going to give me a speeding
ticket or something?” Intentionally, I pull the corner of my lower
lip between my teeth. Guys love when I bite my lip. “Unless you
have a better idea of what to do with me?” I question
hopefully.
“Ma'am,” he begins, a slight blush
creeping onto his cheeks, but my big mouth decides to interrupt
him.
“Ma'am? Am I over fifty?” My headache
grows, and I decide to give in. “Just give me my ticket already.
How fast was I going anyway?”
Apparently, that wasn't a good thing
to say to him. His eyes narrow, his lips a flat line. “Seeing how
you're already having a bad, pants-less morning, I was going to
give you a warning. But since you are obviously hungover, even
though you've yet to reach the legal drinking age, and since you
asked for a ticket, I'll surely give it to you. Stay put.” And then
he walks back to his car.
What? Can this morning get any worse?
Let's hope not. I wait rather patiently for Officer O'Connor to
return with my ticket, a rock song about American boys playing
quietly on the radio. When he does, he hands the piece of paper to
me with a gleaming smile.
Bastard.
“Here you go, Ms. Kavanaugh. Stay out
of trouble, will ya?”
I glare at him before looking at my
ticket to see how fast I was going. 73 in a 55. “Can I go
now?”
“Certainly. Have a good
day.”
“Whatever,” I mumble as he walks back
to his car.
With a sigh, I toss my violation into
the seat and head home once and for all. The first thing I do is go
to the bathroom for a shower. Stray pieces of my hair are sticking
out, and I look terrible to say the least. No wonder he didn't let
me off easy, even with a look at my ass. One measly ticket to
tarnish my previously spotless driving record. I can deal. I'm sure
once my parents find out, they'll add speeding maniac to my list of
traits that further disappoint them.
I decide that I don't want a shower,
but a bubble bath. I need to chill for a bit and not worry about
anything else. While the tub is filling with water and bubbles
begin to form, I plug my cell into my speaker system, open it to my
playlist, and hit shuffle before undressing. The water is the
perfect temperature as I submerge my body. This is what I need to
cure my hangover, my bad morning, and fleeting memories of a hot
cop who turned out to be an ass. Sundays are my lazy days, so this
bath is the perfect way to re-start my morning. I'll just hang out
here, rejuvenate, and I'll be ready for the new school week
tomorrow.
I'm wrinkly and almost asleep to the
sound of a deep voice singing about slow kisses when my best
friend, Vivian, barges into my bathroom.
“Thank goodness you're in the tub,”
she says with relief as she puts the toilet seat down and sits on
it.
“Why are you in my apartment and in my
bathroom?” I close my eyes again, not caring in the least that
she's in here right now.
“I need to talk to you. You gave me a
key, so here I am. I know today is your alone day or whatever the
hell you call it, but this is important.”
“Well, it's not like my day has gone
as planned so far. What's up?” I ask.
She jumps in to complain about her
boyfriend. Viv suspects he's cheating, and she wants me to go with
her to spy on him. She begins to tell me her elaborate plan of how
we can do this. It makes me wonder how long she's thought he was
cheating.
“So what do you say?”
I peek an eye open. Viv looks nervous,
probably thinking I'm going to say no. “Why are you with him if you
don't trust him? What's the point?”
Viv frowns. “It's not that I don't
trust him. I'm a little insecure, I guess.”
That makes me feel bad. “Sure, I'll go
with you. Let me know when, and I'll be there.”
“Thanks, Ryan. I better go. Catch ya
later.” She stands and leaves me be.