Never Have You Ever (The Love Game Book 1) Page 5

  I slid some of the bottles toward the back of the sink against the wall like I’d done the past few days, knowing damn well they’d return to some other random spot. They were like drunk college kids who slept wherever they happened to land.

  “Why do you have charcoal in the bathroom?” I called.

  “Huh?”

  Sophia had been in the kitchen, but she suddenly materialized in the bathroom doorway.

  “This.” I held up a gray tube. “It says it has charcoal in it.”

  “It’s a charcoal mask,” she said, like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “You put this on your face?”

  “Yeah, it cleans out your pores and gets all the gook out.”

  “That’s disgusting.” I noticed a hair stuck under the lid. “Have you tried not putting gook on your face? Maybe you wouldn’t have to get it all out.”

  She’d already grabbed the container and was opening it. “That’s not how it works. And don’t knock it till you try it. It’s so satisfying when you peel it off. You’ll see.”

  If she thought I was putting that black shit on my face, she had another thing coming. “I’m not putting that on my face.”

  “You’ll feel like a new man,” she said, already dabbing a little on her finger. “You can thank me later.”

  Before I could make a move to stop her, her hands were on my face.

  “What the hell? I didn’t consent to this!”

  “Stop being a baby,” she said, still applying the cold paste to my skin. At least I had some facial hair that Sophia had to work around as she applied it.

  “Fine, but while it…does whatever this does, can we move some of this stuff off the counter? Like whatever you don’t use every day or something?”

  She looked confused. “I use all of it.”

  “You put this shit on your face every day?” I pointed to the gray plaster of paris she was smoothing over my flesh.

  “Well, not every day, but enough that I don’t want to put it away.”

  I was tempted to point out that my toothbrush, which I used multiple times a day, was never left out, but it was a pointless argument and I knew it. “So how long do I need to keep this on?”

  “Twenty minutes. I’ve got class in a half hour, so I’m leaving in a few minutes, but just wash it off with warm water, towel dry, and put this on.” She held up some sort of intense moisture serum and then scooted me out of the bathroom so she could get ready for class.

  I shuffled over to the couch, plopped down, and got comfortable. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep until a knock at the door woke me up.

  “Coming,” I called, heading to the door. I pulled it open to see Emma standing on the other side.

  “So it’s true, then?” She sounded sad, but I had no idea why.

  “Um, what’s true?”

  “The whole gay thing.” She whispered the word gay like some sort of homophobic government agency had tapped the apartment and she didn’t want me to get waterboarded until I spilled all the secrets of the LGBTQ community. “I’ve been wondering about it since Soph told me, but I refused to believe it. Maybe it was wishful thinking.” She sighed and gave me a shy smile, probably feeling embarrassed by her admission.

  “Wait, how do you know it’s true?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do I give off like a gay vibe or something?” I was suddenly very concerned about it. I know had to pretend I was gay, but I wasn’t gay. Until now, I’d never had someone look at me and assume that I liked men.

  She brought a finger up slowly to point at me. “You’re in a charcoal face mask.”

  “Shit.” I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling where Sophia had mummified it before she’d left. I would kill her if this didn’t come off. “I actually don’t usually do these, but Sophia made me put it on before she left for class, which was like”—I looked at my watch—“an hour ago.”

  “That’s cute. Did you let her do that when you were little? Like practice her makeup skills and stuff?” I could practically see the lightbulb appear over her head. “Oh my God, is that why you’re gay?”

  “What? No!” Was this how she thought sexual orientation was determined? “I just like men. That’s all.” I’m not sure how my life had become…whatever this was. “Are you staying or going? I need to get this stuff off my face before it eats away at my flesh.”

  S O P H I A

  I’d been sitting in psychology class for less than twenty minutes when my head started pounding and my stomach began to twist. “Are you okay?” Carter asked when my insides made a noise that sounded like a lion sitting down to devour its recent kill.

  Since there was no pretending it didn’t come from me, I said, “Yeah, just hungry.”

  I knew that wasn’t it. I’d eaten a bagel and cream cheese an hour ago, and the thought of food made my stomach turn in a way that made me wonder if I’d ever have an appetite again. I swallowed hard, took a small sip from my water bottle, and silently prayed to the vomit gods that they’d find someone else to punish today.

  Not only did I absolutely not want to get sick in front of Carter and the other twenty or so people in our class, but I didn’t want to be out of commission in the middle of the semester. I couldn’t be out of commission. I had a GPA to maintain, and a stomach bug—or whatever this was—might mean time away from class and falling behind in my work.

  “You want some of my protein bar?” He was already reaching into his backpack to pull out a chocolate peanut butter bar.

  “I’m really okay,” I said, but my stomach still said differently.

  It was gurgling and cramping, and I knew if I didn’t get the hell out of here soon, whatever was inside me would be coming out. I didn’t even get a chance to say where I was going before I jumped out of my seat, grabbed my belongings, and bolted to the nearest bathroom.

  Not much satisfaction came from vomiting in a public restroom. Even though I should have felt some sort of relief, the thought of having my face dangerously close to a seat where countless people had placed their asses was enough to make me want to throw up all over again.

  I didn’t leave the bathroom until I was certain I had nothing left in my stomach, and by the time I made it back to the apartment, I felt like my body had rid itself of every ounce of fluid it had. I was desperate to replenish it.

  Opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water, I couldn’t have been more thankful that Drew was working this afternoon. The last thing I needed was for him to see me like this. God only knew how much worse this would get before it got better.

  Already sure I had a fever, I couldn’t think of anything other than my bed. I couldn’t even bring myself to text Carter and ask him to tell the professor I’d left because of a sudden illness. Sophia Mason wasn’t someone who left class abruptly without an excuse.

  Though evidently I was.

  I don’t even remember falling asleep, but I must have. I woke up two and a half hours later with a splitting headache. Other than that, I felt much better. I was at least sixty percent. And that was like fifty percent better than I’d felt when I’d left class.

  I took a long drink of water, feeling the liquid make its way through my body and hydrate me almost immediately. I just needed to brush my teeth and take a shower, and I’d probably be up another five percent.

  I was still a little dizzy as I made my way out of my room, or Brody’s room, toward the bathroom. Stopping at the hall closet, I grabbed a clean towel before pushing open the bathroom door the rest of the way.

  But the thought of a hot shower was squashed as soon as I saw Drew standing in front of the toilet.

  “Oh my God!” I quickly backed out of the bathroom and shielded my eyes like I’d witnessed a murder and was scared I’d be killed if I’d been caught watching it. “Why didn’t you shut the door?” I yelled once I was safely outside.

  “I didn’t know you were home.”

  I heard the toilet flush, the sink turn
on, and a few moments later, the door swung open.

  Don’t look at his… Jesus, look up.

  What the hell was wrong with me? It was like I half expected his penis to still be out when he exited the bathroom.

  “Did you wash your hands?” was the only thing I could come up with.

  “Of course I washed my hands. I’m potty trained.”

  “Oh, um…I’m sick.” I pushed past him, and once I was inside, I locked the door and turned on the shower.

  What the hell had my life become?

  D R E W

  To say I felt awkward about what had happened was an understatement. It wasn’t that I cared that Sophia saw me peeing. She’d only seen me from behind, so there wasn’t much to see anyway, but her response to it was causing me anxiety. And I wasn’t an anxious person. She clearly wasn’t feeling well, and I probably hadn’t helped.

  She was in the shower close to forty-five minutes when I finally got up the nerve to knock and ask if she was okay.

  “Yes” came her terse response.

  “Okay, just checking. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “No.”

  I was silent for a moment. “Is there still hot water left?” Did that make me sound selfish? I knew Brody’s hot water didn’t last long, so it surprised me she was still in there. “I’m not asking for myself,” I clarified. “I just wanted to see if you were comfortable or…”

  I needed to stop talking. There wasn’t anything I could do, and my questions were probably hurting more than helping.

  “I’ll be out soon,” she said, and we both left it at that.

  About ten minutes later, she came out of the bathroom wearing sweatpants and an oversize Zeta Eta Chi T-shirt.

  From the couch, I could see Sophia walk over to the refrigerator and pull out some Gatorade. Then she opened a pill bottle, popped a few into her mouth, and swallowed them down with a drink. It was obvious, at least to me, that we were intentionally trying to avoid eye contact.

  “Don’t feel weird about what happened,” I said.

  “I don’t.”

  Unconvinced, I nodded, even though I’m sure she couldn’t see me.

  “Do you feel weird?” she asked.

  “Not really. I guess just a little bad that you seem so disturbed by it.” I almost laughed.

  “I didn’t see your…” Now she was facing me, one finger gesturing toward my lap before she seemed to realize it only made the situation more awkward to point to my dick and dropped her hand. “Thingy.”

  “The anatomical terminology is ‘enormous wang,’” I said, hoping to make her laugh.

  She smiled, but it seemed to be more out of embarrassment. “Since I didn’t see it, I can neither confirm nor deny the size of it.”

  “Guess you’ll just have to take my word for it, then.”

  She rounded the small bar in the kitchen and came over to sit in the chair next to the couch. “I was thinking it might be a good idea to establish some ground rules for living together.”

  I’d heard worse ideas. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Well, for starters, probably closing and locking doors if you don’t want someone coming in.”

  “I wasn’t the one who minded you coming in,” I said, and she gave me a look that was somehow both cute and chastising. “Okay, so I’ll make sure to close and lock the bathroom door when I’m in there.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It just feels cramped sometimes with all of the lotions and things all over the place,” I teased.

  “Hey, there aren’t that many in there.”

  “I counted no fewer than sixteen the other day.”

  “You counted them?”

  She sounded incredulous, but I couldn’t be sure if it was because she didn’t believe I’d counted them or because the number sounded so high.

  “You don’t need all those, you know?” I wasn’t trying to tell her how to live, though I knew it probably sounded like that. “I just mean you look nice without all the makeup and face creams and stuff.”

  She was beautiful, really. A smooth complexion, skin that looked soft and smelled like citrus and vanilla. I’d seem like a real psycho if I said any of those things, so I kept it simple.

  When she gave me a small smile, some of the tension seemed to evaporate. “Thanks.”

  “You could probably narrow it down to ten or eleven and that would be plenty,” I joked.

  “Noted,” she said. “Anything else?”

  “Uh-uh, it’s your turn.” There was no way I was getting myself in trouble by listing all the things she did to annoy me, even if that list was a short one.

  “You leave all your half-filled glasses of water around. I feel like I’m living with that girl from the movie Signs.”

  “Well, you’ll thank me if aliens ever attack.”

  Laughing, she said, “Shut up.”

  “Okay, I promise to try to put my dishes away if you promise to stop drinking and eating everything I bring into the apartment without asking.”

  She looked taken aback. “I don’t eat and drink everything.”

  I raised my eyebrows. She knew as well as I did that was exactly what she did.

  “At the sorority house, we all chipped in equal amounts and we’d take turns stocking up on certain things.”

  “Then maybe you should do more stocking up. Because right now, it’s like living with a teenage boy minus the bad hygiene.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “So is the tuna you made the other day that’s still sitting in a bowl in the fridge uncovered.”

  “Hey! I thought we were taking turns.”

  I chuckled. “Sorry.”

  “Okay, last one and then we’ll be even.”

  I nodded.

  “You need to stop walking around without a shirt in the morning.”

  I hated wearing clothing at home but was forced to at least wear pants because I was cohabitating with a female. I looked down at myself quickly before returning my gaze to her.

  “I am wearing clothes.”

  She breathed deeply and then let out a long sigh, her eyes avoiding mine for a moment before she looked back up at me.

  “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

  “I honestly have no idea what you’re about to say, so yes.”

  “It’s because you’re sexy, okay? You’re hot. You have abs and broad shoulders”—she gestured around my body—“and a muscular chest. I shouldn’t be looking at you like I do or thinking the things I’m thinking. You’re supposed to be my brother. My very gay brother. So can you please just keep on as much clothing as possible?”

  She let all of that out in what seemed like one gigantic breath. When she was done, she inhaled loudly again, like she was trying to extract all the oxygen out of the room at once.

  “I guess I can do that,” I said.

  But hearing Sophia admit she found me attractive didn’t make me want to put clothes on. It made me want to take more off.

  Chapter Seven

  D R E W

  I’d been at the library for over two hours, and my eyes were beginning to blur. When I’d written—literally by hand—my paper a few nights ago, the words had flowed fairly easily. So easily, in fact, that my handwriting appeared barely legible now that I was forced to read it back to myself.

  Typing on Brody’s laptop at home had been taking forever, so I thought coming to the library and using a desktop like I had in high school would make the process quicker. I was wrong. I’d been typing for well over an hour but only had a few pages done.

  Who the hell wanted to read ten pages from every student in class, anyway? Teachers were just as crazy as I remembered them being in high school.

  I was pecking at the keys, my head bouncing back and forth from the page to the keyboard, when someone took a seat beside me.

  “You look like my grandmother trying to learn to text.”

  I recognized the voice but didn’t look over, afraid of l
osing my place. I did smile, though. When I finished typing the sentence I was on, I settled back against the chair and brought a hand to the back of my neck to massage it a little.

  “I’ve never been compared to somebody’s grandmother before.”

  “Glad I could be the one to take your grandmother virginity,” Sophia said.

  “That sounds… Don’t ever say that, okay?”

  She laughed. “Seriously though, why are you typing like that?”

  “Because I suck at typing. It was an elective in high school, but I never thought I’d use it, so I took things like transportation technology and art and stuff like that. Add it to the list of poor choices I’ve made in my life.”

  Sophia laughed again, scooted closer, and leaned down to look at my notebook. “Who wrote this?”

  Strange question. “Me.”

  “Do you speak whatever language this is in, because I’m pretty sure it’d be easier to decipher cave drawings than read your handwriting.”

  “I’m starting to think the same thing. I’ve been at this for hours, and I’ve barely made a dent in it.”

  She was still looking at the paper, bringing her face closer to the page and then away again like she was trying to focus a camera lens so the image wasn’t blurry.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who’s handwritten a paper before they typed it.”

  I knew she was teasing me, but the truth was, I wasn’t the typical student in more ways than one, and I seemed to be constantly reminded of it. The only thing I could do was keep plugging away however I knew how and hope for the best.

  “Scooch over,” she said, patting my arm as she studied the notebook and screen.

  “What? Why?”

  “Because watching you try to type might be more painful for me than it is for you.”