The Guys Are Props Club Read online

  His lips fell to my neck. As my body flooded with new sensations, I threw my head back and let out a quivering breath. His tongue traced a path from my neck to my earlobe, while his hand went behind my thigh and pulled my leg up. He pushed forward, and I felt his arousal press against me. I gasped in surprise.

  Feeling him against my core, my skin turned feverish, and my lips trembled until they found his again.

  “Madison,” he said breathlessly. “We should stop. We’re going too fast.” He caught my lip between his teeth.

  I didn’t want to stop. I felt as if I had walked to the edge, and I was more than ready to take the plunge. A plunge that, despite how I’d felt for David, I’d never taken with him. And even though I was sure that going through with this would leave me at Sebastian’s mercy, I didn’t care. Somehow, the thought didn’t upset me as it would have a week ago. I knew that being at his mercy would be exquisite and might, just might, be all worth it.

  Kissing his neck, I pulled him closer, tightening my leg around his hip. He made a sexy sound in the back of his throat that sent electricity throughout my body.

  “Baby, please,” he said. “You’re driving me crazy.”

  Him calling me Baby did it. It was a shock and a pleasure all at once. I stopped, touched by his struggle to take it slow, and looked into his eyes. They were drunk with lust. He pressed his forehead to mine and kissed the top of my nose.

  “I love breaking promises,” he said, once he regained his breath.

  “Me, too.”

  Oh God, how I loved it.

  Chapter 19

  The next week became a game of hide and seek with Jessica. When I was in our room, she was always out. I saw evidence of her presence in the bathroom—she always left her wet towel on the floor—but I never saw her.

  I texted her a couple of times, asking her if she could meet me for lunch, but both times she claimed she was too busy. True, there had been other times when I’d hardly seen her—especially when she was busy pulling one of her Plays—but she was obviously avoiding me.

  Without Hunter to visit after my shift, I found work a little dull. I missed him, but was glad to know he was at home with his family and not alone in a hospital bed, waiting for people that couldn’t visit him all the time, like he needed and wanted.

  Undeniably, the best parts of my day became the parts when Sebastian and I found time to spend together. Sunday, a few days after our heated meeting on the rooftop, he texted me, asking me out to lunch. I accepted under the condition that we met in the food court at the student center, and he let me pay for our meals with my FlexDine account. I had a hell of time convincing him, since he argued that his father had taught him better than that. But he relented when I told him that was the only way he’d get to see me that day.

  We sat across each other, feeling a little awkward at first. We both ate burgers and fries, saying little at first, but then fell into a comfortable conversation about our classes. After watching him devour two large orders of fries, a double burger, a slice of chocolate pie and a 32oz. soda, I learned one more thing about him: He didn’t always eat healthy.

  When we finished lunch, he walked me to the library, then insisted on staying with me, promising he wouldn’t disturb me. He didn’t break that promise, but just watching him bite the end of his pen was distracting enough.

  The rest of the week followed a similar rhythm. We ate lunch together and studied at the library when our schedules allowed. By unspoken agreement, we chose public places to hang out. We both seemed to understand that whenever we were alone, things moved too fast. No doubt, we needed to get to know each other better before taking more steps in that direction. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if the intensity of our physical encounters scared Sebastian a little. It definitely scared me—when I wasn’t swimming in a haze of passion, of course. Luckily, his experience made him better prepared than I to keep things from going too far in too little time.

  On Thursday, we walked out of English class, discussing the latest assignment.

  “I think this time I’ll read the Cliff’s Notes,” Sebastian said.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He took my hand and started walking me toward biology class. “I’ve been known to do it in the past. I have way too much homework.”

  “Yeah, I know how you feel.” Things were starting to ramp up, and I had several papers due and a lot more reading to do.

  “I think that calls for a special date.”

  I looked at him sideways.

  “Cristina and her boyfriend are going to The Bongo Room tomorrow night, we should go,” Sebastian asked cautiously.

  I answered without thinking. “Okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not?” Since I’d stopped worrying so much and let things follow a more natural course, life actually seemed to flow a little easier. One of the voices in my head shouted in triumph; it appeared that I really had been exhausting myself, trying to avoid the unavoidable.

  He gave me a quick kiss and waved as I walked into the building for my next class. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7 p.m.”

  ***

  Friday at 6 p.m., I was digging through my closet, trying to find something suitable to wear on my date with Sebastian. I pulled out two dresses and after one quick glance at them, I knew I couldn’t wear them. I’d been there once already, and knew these dresses weren’t nearly as nice as the worst ones I’d seen girls wearing last time.

  I looked over at Jessica’s closet longingly. She had tons of nice dresses. She would never notice if I wore one of them. I wasn’t even sure she’d have a chance to notice, since she didn’t even seem to live here anymore.

  Telling myself she would never know or wouldn’t mind (she’d let me borrow one of her dresses last time), I opened her closet and peeked inside. Immediately, I spotted three cute outfits that would be perfect. I pulled them out and draped them over my body and selected my favorite one right away.

  It was a blue, one-shoulder dress with see-through lace in the back. It was tight and short, and when I put it on, I immediately felt elegant and sexy. In the bathroom, I applied makeup. Blue eye shadow to match the dress, mascara, eyeliner and pink lip gloss. When I finished, I stared at myself, unimpressed by my attempts. I wanted to do something different, to look special for Sebastian. I eyed Jessica’s flat-iron, uncertain. I liked my loose curls, but maybe straightening my hair would be a nice change. It took me twenty minutes, but when I was done, my hair fell in smooth, shiny sheets over my shoulders. I hoped he would like it. After slipping into my only pair of high heels, I took a peek in the full-length mirror that hung from Jessica’s closet door, and had to do a double take.

  I looked just like my mother.

  At the revelation, my stomach felt queasy for more than one reason. First, I couldn’t believe I resembled her so much. I’d always thought of her as beautiful, and it was unusual for me to think of myself that way. Secondly, I didn’t want to look like her, beautiful or not. It brought back too many bad memories and made me worry that Sebastian would conclude that I looked like a stripper.

  Sitting on my bed, I thought of the last time I’d seen my mom. It had been over a year ago—the happy day I’d left for U.C.I. It seemed so long ago, and now the reason for my anger seemed much less earth-shattering. I supposed I had Sebastian to thank for changing my perspective on that, too.

  Not that I had forgiven her. What she had done was awful. It had to qualify as one of the vilest crimes in at least one of the many levels of hell. She had known I was in love with David, and that made her sin ten times worse.

  I was biting my thumbnail when there was a knock at the door. I jumped to my feet, looking at the clock. It was 7 p.m. already. Calming myself, I smoothed down the dress and resolved not to think of my mother. I opened the door.

  When Sebastian laid eyes on me, his mouth dropped open.

  “Madison,” he stammered. “You look . . . you look staggering.”
I knew I was blushing—my face felt hot—so I diverted the attention away from myself.

  “So do you.” He was gorgeous no matter what he wore, but he was something in his three-piece suit. Clearly, the man had a thing for vests, and they had a thing for him.

  He gave me a sweet, deliberate kiss and walked me to his car without tearing his eyes away from me. Part of me felt like telling him to stop, but I tried to relish the attention.

  “Your hair looks so long. I love your loose curls, but this style is also great on you.”

  “Thank you.” I felt the heat of my blush intensify with his compliment.

  When we reached his car, I asked, “Where is Cristina?”

  “Oh, she’s riding with her boyfriend.” He opened the door and let me in. “They’ll meet us there. Besides I wanted to take you out to dinner before going by the club. I hope you haven’t had dinner yet.”

  “No, I haven’t,” I said, surprised that he’d also planned dinner.

  “There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

  Had his tone sounded ominous? I tensed, but tried not to worry after he gave me a reassuring smile.

  I settled into the seat. Sebastian stuck his head in the car, reached for the seatbelt, pulled it across my torso, and snapped it in place.

  Before he slid back out, he said, “I want my girlfriend to ride safely.” He gave me a peck in the cheek and looked at me. There seemed to be a question in his eye. When I didn’t say anything, his perfect eyebrows went up a little.

  Oh my God, was he asking me to be his girlfriend?! My heart started pounding. That couldn’t be what he was doing . . . could it? But there was no mistaking what he had just said. I decided the safest thing was to say nothing. I pressed my lips together.

  He sighed, pulled out of the car and shut the door. I watched him walk around the front of the car, a look of deep concentration etched on his face. He got behind the wheel, started the engine, then shut it back off. After a big inhale, he faced me.

  “Madison, will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

  Well, that answered that question.

  With my heart beating out of control, I looked at Sebastian and found that he appeared to be as nervous as I was. His shy panic warmed my heart.

  “Well?” he asked when I didn’t answer. The small frown on his forehead deepened with worry.

  I smiled and put a hand on his cheek. He leaned his face into my touch, and narrowed those impossible green eyes at me.

  “Let me down easy,” he said.

  Oh God, he thought I would say no.

  “Yes,” I blurted out. “Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

  Sebastian let out a huge exhale and laughed nervously. “God, woman. Don’t do that to me again.” He leaned over and gave me a tight hug, followed by a heated kiss. It was nearly impossible to stop our passionate exchange and get on our way.

  As we drove to L.A., I thought of his behavior. Why had he been so nervous? Surely he’d asked many girls to be his girlfriend in the past, and I doubted that any of them ever said no. Even though I knew the G.A.P. rules were just observations Jessica and I pulled out of our own derrieres, I couldn’t stop one of them from popping into my head.

  Rule No.5: By any means necessary, a Player will try to make you feel special and different from all the other girls he’s ever dated. Don’t fall for it.

  During the quiet ride, I tried to put that stupid idea out of my head, but I didn’t succeed. I fought the urge to ask him about it for fear of coming across as needy. It wasn’t until we were sitting across from each other at an Italian, white-tablecloth restaurant that I couldn’t resist anymore.

  “I love this place,” he said, looking around and placing the napkin on his lap.

  Italian music played in the background. Warm light poured out of crystal sconces on the stucco walls. Patrons talked in quiet tones. The ambiance was perfect.

  “It’s lovely,” I said.

  “Wait until you taste the food.”

  “Sebastian?”

  The inquisitive tone in my voice made him pause and look my way. “What is it?”

  “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends before, haven’t you?”

  “Um,” he put his hands on either side of his empty plate and played with the silverware. “I’m not sure this is a wise conversation.”

  “I take that as a yes.”

  “It’s not important,” he protested, growing serious.

  “No, it isn’t,” I stated.

  That took him by surprise. “So why the question?”

  “I was just wondering why you were so nervous earlier. You must have asked that question to several dozen girls, and I doubt that any of them has said no.” I smiled ruefully, feeling awful. He had just asked me to be his girlfriend in the most adorable way possible, and I was asking him to explain why. At the least, he would think I was congratulating myself, wanting to hear why he’d been so worried.

  “Several dozen? You really think that?” Rather than annoyed, he sounded surprised.

  I shrugged.

  The waiter deposited our appetizer in the middle of the table, then left. I stared at the steaming plate of bruschetta, wishing I hadn’t broached the subject. This was awkward.

  He folded his arms and leaned back. “I have no trouble answering your question. Full disclosure. Honesty is a good thing in a relationship.” He smiled disarmingly.

  Now I really wished I hadn’t asked him anything.

  “It hasn’t quite been a dozen,” he said.

  That should have set my mind at ease, considering that I’d expected a larger number, but “not quite a dozen” was still a lot, especially compared to one, which was all I’d had.

  “And you’re correct,” he continued. “None of them ever said no. That still doesn’t make me immune to nerves. Though I admit I’d never been that nervous before.” He averted his eyes, looking embarrassed.

  I was dying to ask why, but I’d already made a big enough fool out of myself.

  He leaned forward and put his hand over mine. Our eyes met. “Clearly, I have never cared so much what the response might be.”

  Wow. What could I say to that?

  “So what number am I?” I asked. Maybe light banter was the best way out this situation.

  “I’ve already told you enough. Your turn.” He made a come-hither gesture with his fingers, then snatched a piece of bruschetta off the platter. “What number am I? Thirty-two?”

  I laughed. “Subtract thirty,” I said.

  He put the bruschetta down and gave me a skeptical look. “You mean you’ve only had one boyfriend before me?”

  “Yep. My senior year of high school.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Most of the guys in my school weren’t boyfriend material,” I said. “I guess it didn’t help that I’d known most of them since kindergarten. I saw them eat their own boogers.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “That’s disgusting! I’m trying to eat here.”

  I laughed.

  “So this . . . boyfriend—”

  “David.”

  “So this David, he didn’t go to your school.”

  I took a drink of water. “No, I met him at a friend’s party. He was two years older than me.”

  “Do you . . .” Sebastian hid his eyes behind lowered lashes. “Do you keep in touch?”

  “Oh God, no!” I exclaimed, and regretted the outburst immediately.

  Sebastian cocked his head to one side. “That bad, huh?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  I shook my head.

  He shrugged and happily placed a piece of bruschetta on my plate. “Eat, girl-friend,” he said with a wink.

  My chest felt warm at the thought of going steady with Sebastian. Who knew I could be this happy?

  ***

  After a delicious dinner of eggplant Parmesan, we headed to The Bongo Room. Again, Sebastian walked straight to the front of the
line and was immediately allowed inside. We found Cristina and her boyfriend upstairs, sipping drinks.

  “This is Rick,” Cristina said.

  Rick shook my hand as Sebastian pulled a chair out for me to sit down. Cristina’s boyfriend was a tall, muscular guy that looked more like a football player than a dancer. He had cropped brown hair and a warm smile.

  “This is my girlfriend, Madison,” Sebastian said proudly.

  Cristina gave him a conspiratorial smile. “Well, congratulations, you two.”

  Sebastian sat and scooted his chair closer to the table. “Thank you.”

  I thanked her, too, surprised by how happy the introduction had made me feel. I was proud to be his girlfriend as well.

  We sat and chatted for a few minutes before Sebastian invited me to dance. He tried to show me a few salsa moves, but it was a disaster. Maybe I was only a natural at merengue. In spite of my clumsiness, he seemed to be having fun, judging by his ear–to-ear grin every time I made a misstep. No matter how much I messed up, he never lost his enthusiasm for teaching me. It made me feel all fuzzy inside that he wasn’t frustrated with me in the least.

  After a few songs, we walked off the dance floor to get something to drink. When we arrived at the bar, the smile I’d been wearing since we started dancing fell flat.

  “Hi, Maddie,” Jessica said, turning as we approached. “Hi, Sebastian.”

  “Oh, hey,” Sebastian said.

  “How have you been?” she drawled. “Nice dress by the way.” She tipped her martini glass in my direction.

  The worst kind of shame coursed through me, making me want to bang my head against one of the bar stools. All I could do was give her a pathetic smile.

  A blond guy who looked terribly familiar walked up behind her. “Hey, dude,” he said, extending a hand to Sebastian. “I thought I might see you here.”

  “Matt!” Sebastian shook his hand, looking surprised.

  At the mention of his name, I realized he was the guy who had let us into the Social Science Tower the day of our rooftop date.