Chapter 10: Shutout: Chapter 10

I’ve almost survived my first day of classes.

This includes successfully navigating a new campus even though my courses are not-so-conveniently located around the outer boundaries of Boyd. Staying on-schedule without getting lost may not sound like an impressive feat to most people, but thanks to the ADHD symptom lottery, I’m both directionally challenged and prone to time-blindness so I’m calling it a win.

Fueled by an infatuation high, I practically skip across campus to my last lecture of the day, my first session of Introduction to Creative Writing. Tyler and I have worked up to question fourteen and our conversation shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. Despite the name of the game, I’m pretty sure we’ll keep going past twenty-one.

I make a last-minute stop at the campus Starbucks en route, and while I’m not late, I’m not as early as I’d like when I arrive. The seats are already partially filled up, students scattered around the room. Obviously, I don’t know a single soul, so I scan the lecture hall in search of someone who looks friendly. I settle on a brunette in the middle row who’s rocking a cute oversized plaid jacket. Can’t explain why, I just get a good vibe from her.

She flashes me a small smile as I take the seat on her left. Setting my decaf mocha off to the side, I quickly unpack my things from the black hole otherwise known as my bag. Judging by her array of colored pens and pencils and sticky notes, my seatmate is significantly more organized than I am.

Our instructor introduces herself as Professor Durand but insists we call her Maxine. I listen, rapt with attention as she tells us about her publishing career in fiction and non-fiction as well as the various publications she’s written for, ranging from Vogue to The New Yorker. In addition to magazines, she’s been featured in numerous anthologies and has several traditionally published books of poetry. I make a note to check those out later.

It’s legitimately fascinating, and for the first time in my life, I don’t catch myself zoning out during class even once. This feeling is what I’d hoped college would be like all along. That thirst for knowledge, the excitement to learn more. I’d all but given up on finding anything that genuinely interested me.

Maxine dismisses us a few minutes early and instructs us to introduce ourselves to our classmates with the extra time, explaining that we’ll be doing some partner work for peer editing in the near future. The prospect of showing someone else my writing—let alone having them critique it—sounds more than a little terrifying, but I guess it’s what I signed up for.

Turning to me, the dark-haired girl offers me a shy smile. “I’m Chloe.”

“Seraphina. Sera’s fine, too.” Or Tink, if you’re Tyler. Shut up, brain. Now isn’t the time.

“How are you liking class so far? Isn’t she amazing?” Chloe nods to the front of the room, where Maxine is sliding her lecture notes into a Louis Vuitton tote. “My friend took this class last year and raved about her.”

“Totally,” I agree. “She reminds me of Sylvie from Emily in Paris, only a lot less passive aggressive and significantly nicer.”

She laughs, placing her pastel highlighters into a zippered case. “Oh my god, you’re right. Are you a creative writing major?”

Until recently, I hadn’t realized that was an option. I’ve been considering it as a serious possibility, but it’s too early to say just yet. I’m not sure I’ll even like this class.

“Undeclared but trying to decide soon. How about you?”

“Pre-dentistry.”

“Wow. That sounds intense. Good for you.” Suddenly, I feel woefully outmatched. Bet that’s heavy on science. Probably lots of math, too. I wouldn’t last a day.

“It’s pretty demanding,” Chloe admits, zipping her black book bag. “This is my one and only fun class. The rest are biology, calculus, that kind of thing.”

She pushes to stand, and I do the same, leisurely walking alongside her up the staircase leading to the doors. Since this is my last class of the day, I don’t need to sprint across campus like I otherwise would. It’s like the fates conspired to ensure I hit my 10,000 steps a day before noon.

We linger in the foyer chatting for a few more minutes before we exchange phone numbers, then Chloe heads to her next lecture while I start for the parking lot outside. It feels nice to have a new potential friend; someone not connected to Abby or my brother. Actually, it’s not all that different from what I assume dating is like—I’m a little nervous and wondering whether she actually wants to hang out with me sometime or if she was merely being polite.

Either way, for a Monday, today is shaping up better than I expected. Even the weather doesn’t seem as bad as I push the doors open and brave the bitter January cold. My gigantic new parka probably helps, too.

When I climb into the driver’s seat, Tyler texts me again.

“Nice try, but that’s not a real answer. Cough up the title, Tinker Bell.”

Letting the engine idle in park, I press play and listen to Tyler’s message for a third time, my cheeks tugging at the delicious way his voice gets a little more growly with each word. Other, much lower parts of my body are responding too.

God help me, I’m getting turned on in the middle of a strip mall parking lot.

I indulge in a fourth listen before I reluctantly lock my phone and tuck it away in my console. My stomach is full of butterflies, and I have no idea how I’ll be able to look him in the eye without blushing when I see him later.

I decide to leave him hanging for a while before I reply, though. You know, to keep him on his toes. I’m also stalling because I’m in the middle of an especially smutty book at the moment, and I have to summon the courage to admit it to him. Why this particular question fazes me, I’m not sure. It makes no sense in light of everything else.

My plan to leave Tyler hanging backfires—because he’s unexpectedly home when I walk inside. I didn’t see his vehicle parked outside, but I find him standing in the entry with his winter coat on like he’s about to walk out the door. He’s occupied with something on his phone, seemingly oblivious to my arrival.

Like usual, he’s dressed in head-to-toe black. It seems patently unfair that a guy can get away with such a monochromatic wardrobe and still look so hot.

When the door slams shut behind me, his head snaps up and he breaks into a smile that gives me the butterflies all over again. “Hey, Tink.”

“Hi.” Slipping off my winter boots, I linger in the hall.

His focus stays fixed on me, and his smile gentles. “How was your day?”

“Good.” One-word answers seem to be all I can formulate at the moment.

“Good.” Something about his tone makes me feel warm and fuzzy, like a hug. It’s new, and I like it.

Curiosity jumpstarts my brain. “Are you headed out?”

Tyler looks confused for a second, then his eyes flick down to his phone like he’d forgotten it was in his hand. I’m starting to realize I affect him more than I thought. He’s just better at hiding it.

“My car was being serviced at the dealer. I’ve been trying to book their shuttle to come pick me up, but the app is trash. I was about to call them.”

“I can take you if you want.”

“You sure?” His brows lift. “I don’t want to make you go out of your way if you have other stuff you need to do.”

Even if I did, I have no idea what they are anymore.

“I don’t mind. That’s what friends are for, right?”

He trails behind me into the garage, which Dallas has kindly agreed to let me use during my temporary stay, and pushes the overhead door button on his way by. We climb into my car and slam the doors behind us, sealing out the cold. The scent of his cologne fills the interior, beckoning me to get closer. Trying to be discreet, I draw in a lungful, savoring the notes of driftwood and citrus. He doesn’t just smell good; he smells downright addictive, like an expensive habit I can’t afford.

Shoving the last thought aside, I press the brake pedal and push the red ignition button on the dash. As the engine roars to life, so do the speakers.

“Her soaking pussy clenches around me, and I drive deeper, thrusting in perfect tempo with her moans…”

Oh, no. No, no, no.

My stereo is connected to my phone, which is still open to my audiobook—and chapter twenty-one is Smut City.

I squeal, hitting the pause button with ninja-like reflexes. It’s so quick I may break some kind of world record. The baritone voice vanishes, and the interior of the car falls unnaturally silent. Heart hammering, I grip the steering wheel, trying to steady my breath.

Exposed by Bluetooth. Goddamn technology.

Tyler chuckles. “Oh, don’t turn that off on my account. Sounds like it was getting good.”

He presses the illuminated play button, switching the sound system back on. I reach for the controls, but before I can shut it off again, his large hand captures mine, handcuffing my wrist with his thumb and forefinger. My entire body comes alive at the contact.

Testing him, I make a half-hearted attempt to free myself from his grip. His expression darkens, his hold tightening. A shock of desire runs through me, liquid heat pooling in my core.

“You’re not done until I say you’re done.”

“Sera, you naughty girl.” Spoken in a husky timbre, the words are agonizingly seductive—especially with him still restraining my wrist.

Lust, desire, uncertainty; a million emotions overtake me all at one. Factoring in my mortification of moments ago, it makes for a highly confusing combination.

Steel gray eyes drop to my mouth, lingering for a beat before lifting to meet mine. Our gazes stay locked as the male narrator praises the heroine, sprinkling in hints of mild degradation. It’s the icing on the dirty talk cake, both undeniably appealing and impossible to ignore.

His mouth tugs into a devilish grin. “This is why you didn’t want to tell me, huh?”

My lips part as I search for a response. Nothing. I have nothing to offer. My brain has been wiped clean. Other parts of my body have seized control, and they aren’t the ones responsible for sentence formation—or rational choices.

All I can do is nod.

The audiobook continues in the background. My breaths turn progressively shallower until I’m nearly panting. A needy throb settles between my thighs, growing more intense with every beat of my heart. Tyler’s grin fades and he watches me intently, studying my reaction.

Suddenly, I remember the stereo dials on the steering wheel. Using my free hand, I turn the volume all the way down, silencing the naughty narrative before the hero reaches a climax that’s rapidly approaching. Not a moment too soon, either. I was dangerously close to having my first hands-free orgasm right along with him.

“That was highly circumstantial.” I sound every bit as breathless as I feel. “There are only a handful of sex scenes in the entire book. One could say I’m a victim of bad timing.”

“I was just teasing you, Tink.” His calloused thumb runs along the outer edge of my palm, gently caressing. The unexpected intimacy behind the gesture makes my stomach do a cartwheel. “Though I have to admit I’m curious.”

“Curious about what? Romance novels?”

“What makes you tick.”

“Who said this makes me tick?”

He cocks a brow. “Why else would you be listening to it?”

“For the plot,” I say, working to keep a straight face. “Obviously.”

“Which happens to include the heroine getting destroyed in the bedroom. Repeatedly, if I had to guess.”

Technically, the hero’s railing her on the ninth hole of a golf course after hours, but I’m not about to correct him on that minor detail. Because he’s right—this is what gets me going, which is why letting him know about it makes me feel extra vulnerable.

“Ergh.” I face-palm with my free hand, hiding my face to conceal the telltale warmth spreading across my cheeks. When I peek between my fingers, he’s regarding me with so much tenderness that my embarrassment abates slightly.

“It’s all good, Ser. No judgment here, I promise. Knowing you listen to that stuff is fucking hot.” He squeezes my hand reassuringly, then releases it. My skin turns cold without his touch, and I clamp down on the urge to reach for him again. “If it makes you feel weird, I’ll drop it. I won’t turn it back on again. You have my word.”

I’m not sure if it’s intentional on his part but being let off the hook so easily feels like a challenge. One that I can’t back down from.

Besides, I listen to steamy stories all the time while driving. I’m a certified spicy romance connoisseur. There’s no reason this scene should affect me one iota more than normal simply because Tyler happens to be sitting next to me.

More than six feet of tall, heavily inked hotness.

Within arm’s reach.

Close enough that I keep catching hints of his intoxicating scent.

Who am I kidding? I’m absolutely affected—both by his presence and the book itself. But it’s not like I can admit that to him.

“No.” I sit up, squaring my shoulders. “It’s fine. We can listen to it if you want.”

He hesitates for a second like he’s going to say something. Instead, he turns the audiobook back on and adjusts the volume.

“Take it,” the narrator growls. “That’s right, just like that.”

“Hmm,” Tyler murmurs, stroking his jaw.

I steal a glance at him as I shift into reverse. “Hmm?’

He waves me off. “Just taking notes, don’t mind me.”

“Good girl.”

A thunderbolt of desire jolts between my legs. I squeak, slamming on the brakes halfway down the driveway. The car screeches to a halt, sending us both lurching forward, our seatbelts locking up to keep us in place.

He casually places his forearm along the door and turns to face me, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “You okay over there, Tink?” He juts his chin. “We can switch places so I can drive, if you need.”

Nice of him to offer, but not having both of my hands occupied could make this even hazardous. Then I might touch him—or myself.

“No, I’m fine.” I clear my throat. Chill, Sera. “Thought I saw someone on the sidewalk behind us.”

He makes no attempt to hide his smile. “Uh-huh.”

Easing off the brake pedal, I slowly idle the SUV in reverse until I clear the sidewalk. Shoulder checking, I make a ninety degree turn and start down the street while the filthy narrative continues in the background.

As I pull up to the first red light, the scene switches into the heroine’s perspective.

“His fingers wrap around my throat and his grip tightens…”

Next to me, Tyler shifts in his seat. His large hands flex, the blue veins in his forearms prominent, and I suppress another squeak. If only it were possible to cross my legs while I’m operating the vehicle.

Fortunately for both of us, I manage to compose myself before the traffic signal turns green. Sort of. Except somewhere along the way, it’s grown downright sweltering inside my vehicle. The climate control is still set to the same moderately warm temperature, and yet…

“Is it hot in here?” My shaky fingers land on the dial, turning down the heat until the air conditioning is on full blast—even though it’s subzero outside.

A muscle in his cheek tugs. “Think that’s just you, Ser.”

“Could be,” I rasp.

True to fiction, the hero has superhuman stamina and we’re treated to a full-blown sex marathon for the entire duration of the ten-minute drive. Missionary, cowgirl, oral, you name it. By the time I pull into the dealership parking lot Tyler has directed me to, my panties are soaked and I’m so close to the edge a gentle breeze could get me off.

I shift my car into park, waiting for him to unfasten his seatbelt, but he doesn’t. He leans back in his seat, looking up at the roof. His chest rises and falls with a heavy sigh. A telltale bulge in his jeans tells me I’m not the only one who’s hot and bothered.

“Is this the right place?” I bat my eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Just give me a sec.”