Boyfriend Bargain by Ilsa Madden-Mills

27

Sugar

What are you doing?

The text from Zack pings on my phone the next day as I’m rushing to class from the student center. I’m late—as usual—for astronomy, which I took on a whim but has turned out to be a pain in the ass. Who knew studying the stars would be so damn hard?

I ignore the text.

I haven’t heard from you. I take it you don’t like gardenias? You just seemed like a lush kind of girl…

I push my phone down further inside my purse. Part of me knows I need to respond to him, need to address how pissed I am, but right now, I’m not ready.

Inside the little general store at the student center, my hands tighten around my backpack as I pay for my morning sugar, a red slushie drink, and head out to the quad. I brush past a few girls on the way out of the glass double doors, and I’m stunned to see them looking at me and then giving me an assessing, snooty look. I come to a stop right outside the entrance. I swear I heard one of them say Zack.I sigh, once again reminded of his social status. They’ve probably seen his Instagram account where he’s posted some pictures of us. Everyone thinks we’re an item, and here I am dressed for the role of hot girlfriend in leggings, Chucks, and a baggy Welcome to Pawnee, Indiana sweatshirt. My hair is in a messy bun, and all the makeup I had time for was a swipe of Midnight Madness red lipstick. The name is fitting since I barely slept last night, tossing and turning with dreams of Z and my dad.

They’re probably wondering who the hell I am and how I got him. I grimace. I get it; he’s a thoroughbred and I’m a mixed breed, short-haired pony.

Whatever.

I push thoughts of him down deep as I trudge through the early morning crowd toward the law building. My anger builds with each step. He was all into me and now nothing?

A male voice calls my name from behind me and I keep on trucking. Bennett. I’d know that deep voice anywhere.

“Wait! Sugar!”

Nope.I throw a glance over my shoulder, and he’s moving at a full jog on the sidewalk now, brushing past co-eds with his backpack as he runs.

Everyone is staring at him and then looking at me, and I know him well enough to know he’ll just keep calling my name until I stop. Determination is the one common denominator he and Z share. Outside of that, they are completely different.

I stalk over to a bench near an oak tree and wait.

He slows his pace, a smile crossing his handsome face as he approaches. He’s wearing jeans and a Violent Femmes shirt I bought him, showcasing his tattoos. Mostly roses and skulls, I’m surprised to realize he’s never really told me what they mean—unlike Z.

His hair flows back from his face, deep with color and wavy, brushing the sides of his chiseled jawline. Damn. The man is fine. But like my mama used to say, He’s a pretty turd in the punchbowl.

My shoulders go back when he stops in front of me but I don’t return his smile.

“Hey.” He eases his backpack down to the ground and leans in to give me a hug—a super awkward hug that I don’t want, but part of me gives in because, well, we’re in public and we did spend two years together.

I stare up at him and he looks back, a soft expression in his eyes.

I sigh. “Hey. What do you want?”

“What do I want?” He huffs out a laugh and looks up at the sky. “I wanted to see if you got the daisies.”

Daisies…oh.I nearly forgot. I think about them back in my dorm room, collecting dust.

“I don’t recall us ever having a conversation about daisies.” I arch my brow, curious as to why he keeps sending them.

He shrugs, calling attention to his broad shoulders, which I see are without a jacket today even though it’s cold. His biceps look bigger and firmer too, as if he’s been working out.

He laughs. “We went to the flower market one weekend, and you kept looking at them.”

I tilt my head, truly curious now. Is it possible that for two years, he never really knew me? “But you never asked if they were my favorite.”

He frowns. “I know you better than you know yourself, Sugar.”

He does not know me!Betrayal churns, that familiar feeling I get when I picture him in that car. “I’m not a daisy kind of girl, actually.”

“Oh?” He brushes at a stray hair that’s come loose from my ponytail and tucks it behind my ear. “What flower is your favorite?”

I frown. “I don’t know.”

“See!”

I shake my head. “Maybe I don’t like flowers at all. Maybe I’m a love note person. Maybe I like diamonds instead.”

I didn’t mean to say that last part, about diamonds, but his face brightens. “Do you want to get serious, Sugar? Are you asking for a ring?”

WHAT? I feel myself recoiling.

“No.”

He pauses. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with you. You’re grouchy. Are you PMSing?”

I sigh at his obliviousness. “Bennett, it’s not me who’s wrong. It’s you. Yeah, maybe we weren’t right for each other and that’s what pushed you to have sex with that girl, but we…we are over.”

His expression grows earnest as he comes closer to me until there’s only a hair’s breadth between us. “We didn’t go all the way. If you’d give me a chance to explain—”

“It doesn’t matter, don’t you see? There is no hardline definition of what cheating is to me. You. Were. With. Her.”

He shakes his head, trying to deny it, but I won’t stop, not now that words are spilling out, and I think I’m glad to say them. Perhaps I shouldn’t have waited so long to have this conversation with him.

“Maybe we worked before, but we grew apart,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You want me to be someone I’m not, and when I didn’t give you what you wanted, you looked to someone else. Whether or not you actually penetrated her vagina is irrelevant. Eventually you would have gone all the way anyway—with lots of girls, probably—until I found out. I can’t…I just can’t let that go.”

“Please, Sugar.” His hand is on my arm, tugging, and my half-empty red slushie spills to the ground.

He barely notices.

I pull back from him and he shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair, pacing around me, slicing his hands through the air to emphasize his point. “I just need you with me, supporting me. I need a full-time girlfriend. After we graduate, I’ll be on the road and I want you with me.”

I’m not his main groupie! But I don’t say that. I want to keep this civil.

“You need someone to pat your head and tell you how awesome you are.”

He stops and scowls, his lips tightening. “That’s mean. I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

I pick up my empty drink cup and tuck it inside my backpack. At least I’m not going to litter. “Have a nice life, Bennett. Truly.”

“Don’t say that.” He walks back to me and grabs my elbow, his grip tighter than it should be, and I look down at his strong, tanned hand, the one that’s cupped my face a hundred times. My eyes linger on the silver infinity ring on his finger, the one I bought him for his birthday. His gaze follows mine and he loosens his grip. “Shit. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He caresses my arms and grabs my hand. “And the ring? I still wear it, Sugar. I still love you and I’m just trying to prove it. I want to work this thing out—”

“Let her go.” The low male voice comes from behind me and we both turn.

Z.

His face is hard as granite, his body coiled and tense as he stares at our joined hand.

Bennett gives him a once-over and stiffens beside me. “Move on, dude. This doesn’t concern you.”

Somehow in the middle of this, I find it funny that Bennett doesn’t recognize him right away. He isn’t a hockey guy.

Lightning goes off in Z’s grey eyes. Stormy and swirling with anger, they blaze as they bounce from me to Bennett. Two quick strides and he’s right in front of us. “She happens to be with me, so in fact, yeah, it does concern me.”

I let go of Bennett’s hand and close my lids briefly, part of me angry with Bennett for putting me in this position and the other side of me pissed at Z for throwing our “relationship” in his face.

Bennett inhales sharply. He’s puffed up now, ready to tangle, and his face is as hard as Z’s as he looks from me to him.

They face off, and for the first time, I see that they’re almost the same height with Bennett being about two inches shorter at six four. If they did tangle, it might be interesting, except Bennett only works out to look good, whereas Z does it so he can squash his opponent.

I see the moment Bennett figures out who Z is. He gets a surprised look on his face and then glares at me. “So this is who you’re seeing and why you’ve been avoiding me? Some jock?”

I inhale a deep breath and pick up my book bag. My gaze sweeps over them. “I’m avoiding you because there’s no point.”

They both turn to look at me, and I move fast, gliding past Z. I pause in front of him and want to say something, but I can’t. Not here, not now.

I take a step back from Z, annoyed, and Bennett gets a look of triumph on his face until I point my finger at him. “Don’t put your hands on me again.”

Bennett pales. “I’m sorry—”

I don’t even wait for the rest.

I stalk off.

I haven’t gone ten steps when I feel Z next to me, and I don’t make it easy for him. I’m moving at a fast pace, trying to get to class and get myself as far from him as I can. He’s hurt me and seeing Bennett just reminds me of that.

He keeps up, his arm occasionally brushing against mine as we walk together. A couple of guys pass us and call out, “Good game!” and we keep going. We even keep moving when a group of girls shout, “Z!” and waggle their fingers at him while giving me the evil eye.

“Are you going to speak to me?” he finally asks.

I speed up.

“The gardenias? What happened? Talk to me.”

Annoyance boils inside me, but still my lips are clamped shut. Taylor and Poppy are ahead of me, coming my way, and there’s a questioning look in their wide eyes as we pass each other, their gazes bouncing from me to Z. I shake my head at them to not interrupt. I want to have this fight with him, even if I am a silent participant.

We walk a few more paces and he says, “I really can’t read minds, you know.”

My anger rises to the surface, and that’s it. I come to a full stop, not even caring that people are having to move around us. “I’m just so happy to learn I’m not anyone special to you.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes and his lips compress, a hard look growing on his face. “Someone told you something.”

I laugh. “Yes, and it was so nice to discover my gift is one you send to every girl you date—when it’s over.”

His mouth flattens. “Veronica. She’s the only one who would care enough to be mean.”

“So it’s true?”

He frowns, looking discomfited. “Yes, I sometimes send girls roses, but not gardenias, and not when it’s over. I send them whenever I want. Whatever she told you, I’m sure she twisted it to fit her agenda. She’s wanted me for a long time, and I…” He pauses. “But I’ve never in my life gone to a flower shop and picked out exactly the flower that fit a girl, that smell like her.”

He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Okay, okay, that makes sense, and Veronica does have her own agenda. Even I can see that.

But…

“You haven’t even texted me since we were together…” I stop, my hands clenching.

Don’t be needy, Sugar.

His gaze searches mine. “I know. That night was so… I don’t have words.” He grimaces and looks down at the ground before coming back up to meet my eyes. “I had a game on Saturday, and I just thought maybe I needed some space, you know, a clear head so I could play my best. ”

Well.

Space?

And here I was, thinking about our night and even though I hadn’t really admitted to myself yet, part of me was willing to…I don’t know…see what was going on with us. So stupid. I take off walking again. “Fine. Take some time and process it. I’m done with your bullshit.”

He follows along beside me and several people walk by, staring at us. Even though I’m not looking at him, I feel his unease. It’s in the way he sighs and keeps looking over at me. Whatever.

He keeps up with me, and dammit, he smells so good.

“Look, I was jealous of your daisies, and I wanted to give you something that was more you …” Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as his chest heaves and he stops talking.

I turn. “I don’t even care about that now. Also, I don’t need you to pretend to be my boyfriend anymore.”

His jaw pops. “What about the dean you want to impress?”

“I’ll figure something else out.”

His face shutters, and he looks off, as if what I’m saying isn’t what he wanted to hear. He swallows and looks up at the sky, as if looking for answers.

“Are you upset, Z?”

I need something from him.

He rubs a hand through his hair and his brow pulls down. “Who said I was ever pretending anyway? Go out with me—just me. Not for law school.” His hand reaches out to me but then drops. “Can’t you just give it a shot?”

There’s something in the way he looks at me, hope mixed with fear, as if he’s hanging on a thread, waiting for me to respond.

I shake my head. “You’ve never had to work hard for a girl, have you?”

“No.”

“You just send flowers and everything’s okay. You don’t call and everything just goes back to normal and they jump right back in with you.”

He chews on that bottom lip. “Usually.”

“I’m not that girl.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have sex like that and not expect you to call me. I’m worth more.”

He closes his eyes. “I know. Shit. I’m sorry. I wish I had. I really do. I just…get in a zone when a game comes up. I have to focus…it doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking about you. I was.”

Somehow we’re standing closer, and I don’t know who came closer, me or him. He reaches up and pulls my scrunchie until my hair spills all around me. He sighs, his eyes roving over me. “Will you at least do one thing for me?”

“What?”

“Come with me. Now.”

My body flares. “Every time you say come with me we end up having sex until I can’t think.”

“The truth is, sex is how I express myself because words don’t always do it for me.” He tugs at a strand of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “Come anyway.”

I throw my gaze around the path we’re on, seeing that he’s pulled us over to the side near the trees so our conversation is private. “Why?”

“I want to be alone with you. I—I miss you.”

My gaze flies up to his. “I’m pissed that you didn’t call me. That doesn’t just go away.”

His hand trails down my shoulder and ends at my hand. He laces my fingers with his. “You could have called me too.”

“Nope. And don’t send me flowers again. I don’t care if they’re from some special greenhouse in Antarctica and come with a live penguin. In fact, I think I hate all flowers now.”

“Done.” He tilts my chin up. “Will you come with me?”

“Goddammit, I’m not having sex with you.”

“Okay.”

I sigh. “So what are we going to do?”

A flash of a smile crosses his face. “I’m going to show you how to ice skate. You don’t know jack about hockey and you need to learn.”

“Why?”

“You just do.”

He wants to show me something about him, and I feel myself softening. “I have a class.”

He plays with my hand. “I promise not to stuff you in a closet.”

“Don’t bring that up to make me weak.”

“I’d do it again. I’d wait for you anywhere.”

I chew on my lips. “Will this be worth missing astronomy?”

A small grin. “Miss Ryan, I can show you the stars all right.”

“No sex,” I snap.

He tosses an easy arm around me, keeping some distance between us, as if he’s afraid I might run off. “Fine, fine, whatever you say.”

Dammit. What am I doing with him? Why am I so weak? A long exhale comes from my lips. “Lead the way.”

We take off across the quad and I know people are staring at us, but I ignore them completely, not caring that he’s all that and I’m just…me. The world is topsy-turvy, and even though I don’t know which way is up or down, I do know that my heart is having a hard time telling him no.