Nothing But Mammals

VERONICA

~“You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals,”~

~So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel,”~

~Do it again now…”~

~– Bloodhound Gang~

***

I was starting fresh.

After that wild night at the party, I got myself tested and, thank God, I didn’t pick up an STD from Jax.

I’d been on birth control for a while due to irregular periods, so I also didn’t end up pregnant, which was a huge relief, considering we’d forgotten protection in our drunken haze.

Once that was sorted, I began a new chapter.

Losing my virginity, courtesy of Jax Cole, seemed to open up a whole new world for me. The party life was too tempting to resist.

Laura was all for it, and so was my roommate Amy, who, like Laura, had been living this life way before me. That is, until she met her current boyfriend, Nick.

I started hitting every party I heard about from friends, saw on Facebook, or stumbled upon on Twitter.

I went to every single one, got wasted, and hooked up with whoever caught my fancy.

It was fun. It was casual. It was a distraction.

I used to lose myself in books to avoid thinking about or reliving my past.

Books were fictional, the characters had problems way bigger than mine, which was always a plus. With books, I could escape into another world for a few hours.

That’s why I worked at the bookstore; I could read whenever I wasn’t busy, and that’s why I wanted to be a published author once one of my works got accepted.

Reading and writing was my life, my way of immersing myself in a different reality.

Then I discovered parties and sex. I still wrote and read and worked at the bookstore and went to book club meetings, but I had a new distraction.

It was fun, pleasurable—mostly, since some guys just don’t know what they’re doing—and it was mind-numbing.

It’s been three months since the night I lost my virginity to Jax. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since, which was fine because I didn’t try to contact him either.

It was a one-night stand and it was over. No hard feelings, really.

Besides, it’s not like I saw him regularly or anything; whenever I went to my mom’s for dinner on Fridays, I only saw Oliver.

We didn’t really talk much, other than me asking him to pass the salt or him telling me I dropped my napkin.

So yes, I was a free spirit and I loved having sex with random guys while drunk. I lost count of how many men I’d slept with. Not that it mattered to me anyway.

Now I was at one of those dinners I mentioned. My mother, Charlene Bryson—formerly Tanner, was laughing at something her husband, my stepfather and Oliver’s dad, Stephen, said.

Oliver was as quiet as ever—he was the brooding, I-don’t-smile type.

Instead of joining the conversation, he was busy texting, probably work-related, since he was as dedicated to his job as a high-tech businessman as anyone could be.

For all I knew, he might be closing a deal right now.

Next to Oliver sat my younger, biological sister, Andromeda—Andy, as she liked to be called. Andy was fifteen, almost sixteen, and looked nothing like me.

While my hair is jet-black, hers is a soft, dark brown. Instead of my dark brown eyes, hers are almost golden.

My skin is fair, and hers is exotically tanned, and while I’m five-foot-eight and quite curvy, she’s petite and slender, barely reaching five-foot-three.

Our personalities are different too, especially since I’m almost five years older.

Andy was texting her friends at lightning speed. The only ones actually talking were my mom and Stephen.

Mom was in the middle of telling us, or rather telling Stephen and me, about her friend Carol’s divorce when Oliver suddenly announced, “We struck a deal with Microsoft!”

~Knew it.~

Startled, Mom, Stephen, and I turned to him, and after a few stunned moments, my mother exclaimed, “Congratulations!” and Stephen gave his son a hearty pat on the back.

“That’s awesome, Oliver,” I said sincerely.

His company wasn’t small, but it wasn’t one of the biggest or most influential either. The fact that they caught Microsoft’s attention was a big deal.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling briefly before his face returned to its usual stoic expression.

If he smiled more, he’d be a real heartbreaker.

He certainly had the looks: short dark blonde hair, thick lashes framing striking silver-green eyes, and a lean figure with smooth olive skin.

The only thing not in his favor was his height. He’s just an inch taller than me, which isn’t much by society’s standards for men. That, and his lack of emotions other than seriousness.

But when he did show some emotion, like that brief smile he’d just given us, he revealed a dimple that could’ve made many women weak in the knees.

Mom and Stephen gushed for about half an hour afterwards, and I was only half-listening.

My phone beeped, and I saw a text from Amy, telling me there was a small gathering at her boyfriend Nick’s frat house. I agreed to go and stood up from the table.

“I’ve got to go,” I told my family apologetically, “got some business to attend to.”

Or rather, men to sleep with, hopefully.

“Sure thing, darling,” Mom said, not seeming too upset about it.

“See you next Friday then,” I said, waving goodbye to everyone. Andy didn’t even look up, probably too engrossed in her phone to notice anything else.

I got into my beat-up car and drove to the campus of Bernard College.

After high school, I found myself at college, where I met Laura, Amy, and the rest of our motley crew.

We had Slutty Santana, Nick the Jock—who was Amy’s boyfriend of two years—and Warren, the boy-next-door type who was currently rebelling against the idea of monogamy.

Then there was Kyle, the wannabe rock star and confirmed player, who was writing a blog called The Heart Crusher. Subtle, right?

His blog was a tell-all about his sexual adventures, which mostly consisted of one-night stands and short-term girlfriends.

I spent my college years hanging out with this group, and even after I dropped out, we stayed friends and kept in touch.

When Amy also dropped out, we rented a small apartment near campus so we could still hang out with the gang whenever we wanted.

Those still in college were split between fraternities and sororities.

Laura was part of Gamma Girlz—yes, with a Z—the most popular sorority on campus. Santana was also a member, thanks to her wealthy family and her reputation for being, well, slutty.

Nick lived in a frat house with his fellow jocks. His athletic skills and smarts had earned him a full scholarship.

Kyle often crashed at Nick’s place, since his own frat house—filled with other musician hopefuls—often turned into a party central, and even Kyle needed a break sometimes.

Warren, on the other hand, had a dorm room on the west side of campus that he shared with a guy named Ransom. ~I know, right~?

Ransom was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, which I can proudly say I am not.

Looking back, it’s surprising that I ended up friends with this group of shameless party animals and former high school popular kids. I guess I was drawn to their charisma.

They made me feel alive and happy, and since they were mostly shallow, our conversations rarely went beyond gossip, parties, and who was sleeping with whom.

Remember when I mentioned needing distractions? They were a big part of that.

After my night with Jax, when I let go of all my inhibitions about parties and sex, I felt even closer to them, and they felt the same about me.

We hung out more, went to more parties, and they all cheered me on when I lured some unsuspecting guy—I mean, man—into the restroom.

When I arrived at Nick’s frat house, all my friends were already there.

Shirtless jocks with perfect biceps and six-packs wandered from room to room, paying no mind to our group in the lounge. It was a normal sight for them.

Most of them had already hooked up with either Santana or Laura and lost interest.

If they were ever bothered by us being there, they never said anything. Probably because Nick was the captain of the college’s football team, and everyone was a little scared of him.

They treated him like he was some sort of alpha.

Everyone waved at me when I walked in and I flopped down on the cushion next to Santana.

“Hey-hey,” I said, grinning.

“Hello there,” Kyle said, his eyes smoldering and a smirk on his face. Kyle flirted with anything that moved and didn’t stop until he got what he wanted.

I didn’t want him. He wanted me. I didn’t let him have me. The whole point of my sleeping around was that I didn’t have to see the faces of the guys I slept with. Like Jax.

“You look as stunning as ever, Nix.” His voice was deep, and his eyes roamed my body with clear desire.

All my friends called me Nix or Ver or some other short nickname. Veronica was just too much of a mouthful. Only my family and people who didn’t know me well called me that.

Like Jax.

I really need to stop using Jax as an example for everything.

“Thanks, Kyle,” I said, giving him a flirtatious grin, even though I felt nothing but platonic feelings for him.

I loved messing with him, since I knew nothing would ever happen between us, and I loved teasing him and watching him grit his teeth when my teasing got to him.

I know, I’m evil. But it’s fun.

“How was dinner?” Santana asked. She was dressed in a tiny, blood-red dress and what I suspected was a push-up bra, not to mention her stockings.

While I acted promiscuous, I didn’t get the title because I dressed like an average woman.

Santana, on the other hand, was the embodiment of promiscuity, especially with her bright-red hair, exotic green eyes, and long, curvy figure.

“It was fine,” I replied nonchalantly.

“Is Oliver still as delicious as ever?” Laura asked, licking her lips at the thought of him.

I suppressed a gag. It’s not that I didn’t think Oliver was attractive, because he was, in his own way. I just thought that thinking about my stepbrother as hot or sexy or delicious was a bit inappropriate.

Giving my blonde-haired, blue-eyed bombshell of a friend a warning look, I said, “He’s doing well, I guess. He’s got some deal going on with Microsoft.”

Warren, who was studying business and marketing, seemed the most shocked or interested by this news.

“No shit,” he said in amazement.

“I know, right?” I grinned at him.

“Anyway,” Amy said, smiling at me, “before you got here—and no, I didn’t mean it like that—we were talking about playing Never Have I Ever.”

“And I said that I think it’s a game for horny kids,” Nick countered immediately, “and that we should do something less stupid.”

Nick was sitting behind Amy on the loveseat.

They looked so good together. Her bob-cut chestnut hair, kind hazel eyes, and short, slim body, along with his tall, athletic figure, wavy chocolate-brown hair, and gray eyes.

They seemed perfect for each other, like they were soulmates.

I snorted inwardly. Yeah right. As if soulmates exist. But they were the closest thing I’d ever seen to it, I guess.

“It sounds fun, actually,” I said, grinning. “I can even go first if you want.”

Eagerly, Kyle pulled out a vodka bottle from somewhere and placed it on the coffee table.

“Just need some shot glasses and we’re all set,” he said, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. Kyle always found the thrill of sharing secrets to be a major turn-on. I couldn’t understand why. None of us could.

As if by magic, Santana slid seven small glasses onto the table.

“Let’s get this party started,” she said, her grin wild and infectious.

“Your turn first, as promised,” Warren said, his gaze lingering on me.

Warren was undeniably cute, earning his boy-next-door reputation honestly: tousled sandy hair, warm brown eyes, and a lean figure that was just starting to fill out from his recent gym visits.

You wouldn’t peg him as the type to shy away from commitment, but he did. Like the rest of us, he’d rather have a string of casual flings than settle down like Amy and Nick.

Next to him, Kyle was the picture of a player: spiky blond hair, smoldering baby-blue eyes, and a tall, lean body.

He had the look of a rock star, and he carried himself like one too. He had that bad-boy aura that promised life-altering experiences, drawing girls in like moths to a flame, only to leave them burned and scarred.

I shook my head slightly, clearing my thoughts, and focused on the task at hand.

“Alright guys, brace yourselves,” I said, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. I knew exactly what I was going to say first and who would be taking the first shot.

“Never have I ever slept with a black man, or ~woman~,” I quickly added, cutting off Warren’s smart-ass retort before it could start.

Laura, Santana, Warren, and Kyle all downed their shots with playful curses, quickly refilling their glasses.

“Now it’s my turn,” Laura announced, an evil chuckle escaping her lips. “Never have I ever let someone fuck my ass.”

Santana and, surprisingly, Amy downed their shots. Amy blushed as we all turned questioning looks her way, Nick included.

“What?” she said defensively. “I was fifteen and stupid, and trust me, it wasn’t fun.”

She shuddered, as if the memory was still too fresh.

Santana snorted and said, “The guy who did it to you didn’t know what he was doing.”

She fixed us all with a mock-serious gaze. “You guys don’t know what you’re missing.”

While I enjoyed sex and was open to trying new things, the idea of someone penetrating my ass, where I... I had to suppress a shudder of disgust. Gross.

Santana was up next. “Never have I ever had sex with an obese person.”

None of us were surprised when Kyle was the only one to take a shot. He’d sleep with anyone who had a pussy, whether they were born with it or had it surgically created.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex,” Kyle said.

Laura and I exchanged knowing glances and downed our shots. Back in our first year of college, we’d been curious about what it was like to kiss another girl and decided to try it out.

It was actually pretty fun, although it lacked the roughness of a man’s lips. We weren’t the only ones to take a shot; Santana and Amy did as well. And Warren too, which drew a curious look from Kyle.

“What?” Warren asked, echoing Amy’s earlier defensiveness.

We continued playing, downing shot after shot until we were all either tipsy or completely drunk. But when it was Warren’s turn and he announced, “Never have I ever had sex with a redhead!”

I found myself to be the only one not taking a shot.

“Seriously?” I asked Laura as she wiped her mouth. “You slept with a ginger?”

“Yup,” she said, giggling. “He was pretty good.”

“You have to sleep with a redhead at least once,” Santana said, pointing at herself. “I mean, look at me. I’m a sexual deviant. It’s a sign.”

“But redhead guys aren’t attractive!” I protested.

Amy smirked and looked over my shoulder. “Well, check again.”

Confused, I turned around and saw a cute auburn-haired guy with blue eyes. He was lifting weights, shirtless, his sweat-slicked chest flexing with each lift.

~Definitely drool-worthy.~

“That’s Drake,” Nick said, a small grin on his face. “He’s a good guy.”

Laura shot him a questioning look. “Is he good in bed?”

“That’s what the ladies say,” Nick replied, a glint in his eyes.

Laura turned to me. “Sleep with him, Nix!”

I considered it. Drunk enough? Check. Cute guy? Check. In the mood? Check.

“Okay,” I said, standing up with a smirk. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”

“So sure of yourself,” Kyle muttered, scoffing. He was probably just upset that I hadn’t chosen him as my fling for the night. As I said, I didn’t sleep with my friends.

Laughing, I planted a deliberate kiss on his cheek.

“Poor baby,” I teased, his pained groan making me chuckle as I sauntered over to the redhead.

He was still working out when I reached him. He stopped mid-lift and looked up at me, his electric-blue eyes even more stunning up close.

“Can I help you?” he asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice at the interruption.

That was the problem with trying to sleep with guys outside of a party; there was a chance they wouldn’t be in the mood.

But I’d done it before—after getting drunk at a restaurant and dragging a waiter into the bathroom—and I could do it again. Plus, it was a good test of my game.

And I loved a good challenge.

I smiled innocently.

“These look heavy,” I said, nodding towards his weights. “How much?”

Caught off guard, he blurted, “Ninety pounds.”

“Impressive,” I said, biting my lower lip and pretending to be too shy to ask him something.

He took the bait.

“What?” he asked, but this time, it wasn’t with annoyance.

His eyes were glued to my mouth as I nibbled my lip, momentarily distracting him from our conversation. His gaze then drifted down to the rest of my body.

I was wearing shorts and a tank top, and I knew I looked good. His gaze confirmed it, turning interested as he took in my body.

When his eyes finally returned to my face, he looked downright hungry.

~Bingo.~

“Can I touch?” I asked, gesturing towards his massive biceps.

He seemed to lose his ability to speak, swallowing audibly and nodding. Gotcha.

My hands landed on his biceps, and I massaged them, as if testing his strength.

“Wow,” I breathed, “you’re so…”

I pretended to shudder.

His heated gaze landed on my chest.

A few minutes later, we were in his room, his weights and my friends forgotten downstairs. We were having sex. Me, drunk and willing. Him, completely sober but sexually high.

In all the times I’d had sex, including now, while it was fun and satisfying enough, I’d never orgasmed as hard as I had with Jax.

Sure, I came most of the time, but never like that. Never like I had with Jax.

I don’t know if it was because he was my first, and it was the first time someone had touched my body in ages, or if it was simply because it was him.

Most likely it was the former. After all, it wasn’t like Jax and I knew each other beyond the occasional hello. I hadn’t known him enough to develop a crush on him or anything.

Having sex with Drake the Redhead was good. He clearly knew what he was doing in bed, and I knew how to drive him wild. When we finished, I was mildly satisfied.

As we got dressed, I heard Drake say, “I didn’t catch your name.”

I froze mid-dressing.

Oh boy, he was one of those.

Guys who wanted to actually talk after sex, as if they wanted more from me or something. While I wasn’t as against monogamy as Warren, I did try to avoid it.

I didn’t want or need a boyfriend in my life. Even the mere thought of having a guy fawning all over me was enough to make me want to vomit.

So, when the men I slept with wanted to talk or even just know my name after sex, any high I might've had during the act disappeared and my mood was officially ruined. Like right now.

When he saw I wasn’t answering he asked again, “What’s your name?”

I finished buttoning my shorts and turned to see him already fully dressed, looking at me with a curious light in his eyes that I didn’t like. Just what I needed.

“Look,” I said, trying to sound bored and indifferent instead of annoyed, “you don’t really need to know my name, just like I don’t need to know yours. We had sex, that’s all.”

That’s all it’d ever be. A simple fuck.

He seemed shocked. “That’s all? We just had sex?”

What did he expect? That I would throw myself at him, begging for him to be my boyfriend? Was he daft?

“Took you long enough,” I said, and then turned to leave, but before I could do so, he grabbed my wrist.

“But I want to know you,” he said persistently, and I mentally groaned. I hate clingy boys the most.

“That’s too bad,” I said with feigned sympathy and tugged at my hand. “Now let me go. We’re done here.”

Reluctantly he did, and I left the bedroom, officially irritated. Why couldn’t all boys be like most of the guys I slept with? Like Jax. Why did they have to want more?

It was such a mood killer.

I returned to my friends and Santana laughed at my sour face while Kyle grinned triumphantly, as if he’d won some tournament I wasn’t in.

“He wasn’t good, was he?” Santana asked.

“That’s not it,” I said and mimicked a gag, “he wanted to know my name.”

All of them groaned sympathetically. They’d all been there, even Amy and Nick before they became a couple.

They all knew how it killed the mood, especially Warren, who practically pissed himself when talks about relationships and love came up.

There was no point in elaborating.

I had sex, it was over, and now we were back to talking and exchanging new gossip, Never Have I Ever left behind.

My mood lifted thanks to these conversations and later, when I returned with Amy back to our apartment, I slept soundly.

No guilt, no regrets interrupted my sleep. I was good.

After all, that’s the whole point of no-strings-attached, right?