The Love Trap by Nicole French

8

2009

“How predictable,” I remarked as Skylar and I exited Torts.

“I think his name is Keith? That guy I met at Great Scott about a month ago.” I held out my phone, which currently had a picture of a medium-sized erect penis on the screen.

“Jesus!” Skylar averted her eyes. “Jane, holy crap. You could have warned me.”

“Why? It’s really not even that big. He trimmed his hedges so much it shifts the perspective.” I examined the picture again with academic interest. “Haven’t you ever gotten a dick pic before?”

“No!”

I tucked my phone away. “Patrick hasn’t ever sent you a dirty picture or two? Even with the long distance? Good God, how do you guys keep the fire otherwise?”

As if she needed the reminder, Skylar checked her phone for what had to be the thousandth time that day. I sighed. My roommate had serious issues with her boyfriend, who, from what I could tell across the hall, seemed like a philandering asshole. I mean, living free is well and good when all parties consent, but my roommate was the most monogamous creature on the planet. A one-track pony, so to speak. So, you tell me what to think when your man routinely waits two days longer to call you than he says he will, but constantly butt-dials from very loud nightclubs with a bunch of ladies squealing in the background. It didn’t sound like “working late” to me.

“He was supposed to text me this morning,” Skylar muttered, refreshing her messages yet again. “I was planning to go down again this weekend.” She shoved her phone away with a defeated sigh. “But no. No dick pics from Patrick. He’s too busy with work for that kind of thing. He’s too busy to call, period.”

“Work, huh?”

Skylar glared through the windows at the frost that matched her own expression, and I let it go. She and I got along pretty well, much to my surprise given our obvious personality differences, but we weren’t quite at the “criticize each other’s life choices” stage. We’d get there eventually.

“It’ll be fine,” I said. “He’s probably just busy.”

I pulled out my phone again as we exited Austin Hall. Our study group was meeting to split this weekend’s reading before we dispersed for a much-needed Friday night out.

“I thought you were seeing that Eric guy these days,” Skylar said. “Why are other guys sending you pictures of their genitals?”

“Hey, hey, hey, this isn’t on me. I don’t know why he was suddenly pornographically inspired. And I don’t know if I would call what Eric and I have been doing ‘seeing’ each other,” I said as we made our way down the path to the law library. “Unless that’s a new euphemism for banging like bunnies.”

One of Skylar’s red brows rose. “Is that really all it is? What happened to the poetry?”

Okay, so I’d told her about that. And also about Eric’s tendency to write new ones on my skin after we’d just made our own “poetry,” as he called it. Multiple times. Okay, at least ten in fourteen days.

It had become kind of a game. Post-orgasmic limericks. Who could create with the worst puns to dispel the electricity that never quite seemed to dissipate? The guy was addictive. It was becoming a problem.

And then, of course, there was that moment after our con law class two days ago. The one when, just after he had smiled and grinned and chatted away with Catie Sparler, the former Ms. Delaware, he had grabbed my hand on the way out and walked me all the way back to my apartment. Right when half the law school was pouring out of the building for the day.

Suddenly, I was right back in high school, with every student within fifty feet wondering what the hell Decker Carlson was doing with the weird girl and her nose ring.

That wasn’t exactly booty call action. And so I’d been ignoring Eric’s calls and avoiding him since. And he hadn’t done a damn thing to change it.

But before I could tell Skylar again that Eric and I meant nothing, we were interrupted by the Energizer Bunny himself bounding down the path after us.

“Crosby! Lefferts! Wait up!”

We stopped in the library doorway, and Eric grinned as he sidled past me much closer than necessary. The buttons of his wool pea coat scraped across my leather jacket, and he paused, trapping us both there for a moment.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he murmured. “I was trying to catch you after class, but you ran off. You busy later?”

Was I busy? Well, I was trying to be. And not with this walking ad for Scandinavian virility who was undoubtedly going to break my heart if I let him get any closer.

The problem was that I couldn’t seem to keep that resolve when I saw him. Which is exactly why I’d been avoiding him in the first place.

“I…don’t know,” I said, shooting for aloof and failing miserably. Ah, fuck it. “What time?”

There went my resolve. God, he smelled so good, and those eyes of his shone so brightly.

“Ahem.”

We followed Skylar into the library, pausing our conversation until we were in the study room our group reserved on Fridays.

“Lord, there you are,” our friend Cherie said as we all piled in. “We need to make this snappy. I have a date tonight.”

“So do I,” Eric concurred. “A really hot one.”

I smarted. He had a date? Hadn’t he just asked me my plans? Was that for later, after he was done with a girl he actually wanted to be seen in public with?

But before I could spiral completely, I found Eric grinning at me with open intention. Oh…he meant me. Right?

He picked up my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles before cradling it in his lap. The knot in my belly relaxed. A little.

“Good lord, could they be any cuter?” Cherie asked Andre, another student.

“Looks like opposites do attract,” he replied.

Eric just calmly squeezed my hand, but inside, I was spurting irritation. Opposites attract? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Yeah, sure, Eric and I were as different as fire and ice, but only I was supposed to say shit like that. Not some passive-aggressive law student who didn’t know us from Adam. Was I really such a freak that people had to comment on the fact that someone like Eric would ever be attracted to me?

Goddammit. I was too old for this garbage.

Nevertheless, I spent the next forty-five minutes stewing while we pored over today’s lecture notes and divvied up the readings at last.

Opposites attract. Opposites attract. What in the hell?

“Picture, please!” Cherie pulled out her phone. “I promised my parents I’d send them photos of our group.”

“Cherie,” I said. “My love. We are studying, not drinking. And I would very much like to be doing the latter, so can we just go, please?”

“Hear, hear,” Eric said with a squeeze of my knee.

“Jane, don’t be a spoilsport. It’ll take one second.”

I grumbled the entire time, but eventually complied for a giant selfie with the rest of the group, mashed together in front of the whiteboard.

“Send me a copy too,” Eric said.

“Me too,” Skylar piped up.

“Take one for me, I guess.”

I unlocked my phone and handed it to Cherie, who immediately fumbled it and dropped it on the table. And there, of course, was good old Keith’s extremely mediocre penis, splashed across my screen for everyone to see.

For a solid five seconds, the entire table was stone-still.

“You, ah, have something you want to share with the group, Lefferts?” Eric asked, his voice betraying not one iota of irritation.

I swallowed. I had nothing to feel bad about. Right?

“Oh, Janey,” Skylar muttered under her breath.

“It’s…it’s…” I stammered.

“Note mine,” Eric finished dryly to the rest of the group. He leaned toward Cherie and another girl conspiratorially. “To start, I’m a lot bigger than a four-inch hot dog.”

The two of them tittered as if on command. I scowled. How nice for Eric that I gave him a chance to brag openly about his penis to whatever female company was present.

So instead of apologizing and deleting it, I reexamined the picture. “That’s a little harsh. Keith here was solidly average. I bet he measured five point one six inches on the dot.” I winked at Cherie. “Besides, it’s girth that matters, am I right?” And then I shrugged at Eric. “Old lover. What do you want me to say?”

Eric’s expression wasn’t quite as relaxed as before. “Do we want to know why you have the average American cock length memorized, Lefferts?”

“You should be grateful,” I said, purposefully deleting the picture in full view of his sardonic gaze while telling myself it had nothing to do with mitigating Eric’s potential jealousy. Then I turned to him with a cocky grin—pun intended. “It’s how I know you are, in fact, very above average.” I winked at the other girls. “Maybe you’ll get lucky one day too, ladies. Eric’s pretty open with his gifts. Isn’t that right?”

Finally, Eric’s affable, relaxed mask broke. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss me or spank me.

“Prove it,” he said as he stood. “Excuse us, everyone. Come on, pretty girl.”

“Oh, lord,” Skylar muttered. “There they go again.”

It was dangerous what this man was able to do to me with just a few words. Even his text messages had a similar effect. Over the last two weeks, since that night at the bar, I’d tried to keep him at arm’s length. It just hadn’t worked very well. Or at all.

There had been the next night at Cleo’s. Two rounds of shuffleboard, and he’d grabbed my hand and dragged me out of there to the raucous jeers from our classmates.

Then there were the times he sat next to me in class. I’d take notes, but I still couldn’t remember anything the professor said. Once, we’d barely made it to the end of the hall before Eric pulled me into the custodial closet and clamped a hand over my mouth while he had his way with me.

And then two nights ago, of course, when he’d shown up at my apartment, wet and chilled through after a night run along the Charles. Skylar had opened the door, then grabbed her bag and left with a knowing smile. I, however, had been frozen on the couch as he stalked toward me.

“Bedroom, pretty girl,” he’d said.

And off I went.

Opposites attract, eh? Yeah, maybe a little too much.

Like I said, heartbreak. Everywhere. It wasn’t a question of if it was coming. It was when.

But instead of denying him the way I should have, I gathered my things.

“Girl, good luck,” Cherie whispered as I followed Eric out. He didn’t even say goodbye.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded as soon as we were outside the library, both of us still fastening our coats. “Or, should I say, who?”

I scowled. “That is none of your business.”

“None of my business? It’s none of my business why the girl I’m seeing has a picture of someone else’s dick on her phone?”

“Are you serious right now?” I shot back. “You want to tell me there are zero dirty pictures of your conquests on your phone right now, Don Juan? I’ve seen you at the bar. Hell, I’ve seen you after class. They’re like flies. Ms. Delaware is just dying to model her sash for you.”

Eric’s glare basically cut through every layer of clothing I had. “Is it serious? You and the junior salami?”

I shook my head. “I can’t believe this. We have been…whatever we’ve been doing…for two weeks! I’m your booty call, not your girlfriend. You have no right to interrogate me here, boy-o.”

“Well, maybe I want the right.”

“Maybe?” I shook my head. “Spoken like a true bullshit artist. Tossing hypotheticals around like confetti instead of speaking with basic clarity. Tricking women into thinking it’s the real thing while maintaining plausible deniability. Well, you know what? That shit doesn’t work with me. I told you. I don’t play these games.”

Eric’s face blackened. With lightning speed, he backed me up against the brick wall.

And then he kissed me. Eric was great in the sack, of course—as talented with his tongue, even, as other parts of his body. But this was something different. He wedged me against the wall, his mouth plundering mine to the point of bruises, tongue diving, possessive, full of intention.

Mine, it said. And don’t you fucking forget it.

Then, just as quickly, he released me, allowing my legs to drop to the ground just in time for me to realize they had somehow wrapped around his waist to begin with.

“How’s that for clarity?” he asked in a hoarse voice. It was cold enough that I could see his breath, white in the late afternoon chill.

I couldn’t even reply, but my breath still mingled with his.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “Let me be very explicit about one more thing, Lefferts. If there are any other dicks on your phone, I want them erased.”

I scowled. “Why?”

He stepped back, maybe to give me some space. Maybe for himself. “You really want me to explain that? Right now? Out here?” He gestured at the students walking by who were already peeking at us curiously.

I opened my mouth to dare him to say it. Do more than just hold my hand, like he’d held so many others. Say the one thing boys like him weren’t supposed to say to girls like me, and definitely not in public. I like you. I like you more than just sex. I want to be with you more than just at night.

I want you.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, so low it was almost a whisper. I almost didn’t hear it.

I took a step toward him. Then another. And then…turned and started walking down the path, ignoring the throbbing in my chest, my gut, and yes, between my legs. This was so confusing. Everything with this guy was so confusing.

But when he didn’t immediately follow, I still turned around. “Are you coming or what, Petri dish?”

Eric tipped his head to one side. “Petri dish?”

I shrugged. “You know. For all the specimens you’ve collected.”

He opened his mouth in shock, but though his expression darkened again, there was a new glint in his eye I hadn’t seen before.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he said as he caught up.

I looked up and batted my eyelashes, completely back in the game now. “Promise?”

Eric’s scowl deepened for a moment, then gradually shifted into a sly smile that lit up his entire face. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”