Someone to Love

"Coke or Pepsi?" the Adonis before me asks, as if the only thing he intends on quenching is my thirst. I think inaugurating me as his love slave for the evening is more specific to the point.

He's tall with broad shoulders and light blue eyes the color that rain wishes it could be. He sports a five o'clock shadow, the stubble is a little darker than the caramel hair protruding from his ball cap. His cheeks are cut high and chiseled. He's one of those guys - the ones that make your stomach squeeze tight with just one wayward look. We've been stealing glances for the better part of an hour even though he was seven-deep in girls, two of them gnawing on his ear and neck respectively.

The Christmas lights on the anemic tree behind him blink on and off spastically in a rainbow of holiday hues with a pink bulb winking out of synch.

"I haven't played Questions since ninth grade," I say, turning to the burgeoning crowd, pretending like I'm not interested. Not that I didn't get the fact he was offering me a drink. Honestly, if a guy of his loose moral caliber wants to sleep with me, the first thing I'm going to do is make his brain cells strain a little - that is, if he has any.

All I really want to do is find Pennington and convince him to stop guzzling his high-octane beverages long enough to show me to my dorm. That was my first stupid move in what's panning out to be a bona fide fiasco - trusting a moron with my housing arrangements.

"Questions?" The Adonis dips in with a lewd smile budding on his lips. He's wearing a white cotton T-shirt and dark inky jeans - my all-time favorite combo on a guy. His tennis shoes look as though they've seen their fair share of the great outdoors. He's probably the type who overindulges in half a dozen sex sports before breakfast. I bet he's some kind of perverted adrenaline junky. God knows he's pumping up mine.

He drinks me in with a fondling gaze, undressing me with those blue cellophane eyes. He's rounding out all the bases mentally - he's already bent me over home plate, I can tell.

"You know, Questions," I say, "Coke or Pepsi, male or female - in or out ." I'm not sure if peppering the conversation with innuendo is the best idea, although it's most likely his native language. I look past him at the crowd, trying to distract myself from the fact he's even more alarmingly handsome up close than he was clear across the room.

"In or out?" He says, seductively. "Definitely in, and for sure, female." He gives it in a heated whisper just over my ear and rips a fire through my insides, awakening something in me on a primal level. His voice resonates above the raucous music, and my eyes close involuntarily at the quasi proposition.

Shit. I startle to my senses and scan the room for the simpleton I might be moved to strangle once I locate. It's my first day here at Garrison, and I've landed at some frat party hosted by my mom's best friend's son, at Alpha Sigma Phi, with my luggage sitting in the corner still fresh from the airport.

The Adonis pushes out a smile, and a pair of deep-set dimples go off, rendering me defenseless.

Honest to God, I'm about five minutes from pulling Mr. Coke or Pepsi into the corner and raking my body against his. Not that I've ever done that before, nor have I ever been motivated to do so. But after a long travel day, and a four-hour layover in five-inch heels, spontaneous sex doesn't sound so bad.

"Cruise Elton." He shoves his hand at me as if we were about to conduct business, and something in me softens to him. His glacial eyes burn into mine. He's watching me, drilling his watery pools through all of the formidable layers I hide beneath. He's inspecting me for the truth, for the underpinnings of who I really am. I bet he's embroiled in deep philosophical questions like do I know how to properly utilize my tongue and whether or not I have a piercing that could pleasure him into an erotic nirvana.

"Kendall Jordan," I yell over the music, taking up his warm, thick fingers. He feels safe, reliable, and something stirs in me when we touch.

"Nice to meet you Kenny." He gives a wicked grin and swivels his hips into mine. He's still acting like the playboy he's been for the last hour, but something in his eyes tempers when he says my name, albeit incorrectly.

"It's Kendall," I repeat, rubbing my thumb over his knuckles, memorizing how he feels before letting go. I wish I were one of "those" girls. If I were ever going to be one, tonight would be the night.

"You look more like a Kenny to me. Cute and sporty." He plucks off his baseball cap revealing dark blond waves before settling it over his head again. His shirt rises over his tan stomach, offering me a glimpse of rippling muscles, solid as granite, and I resist the urge to run my fingers over him like some erotic form of Brail.

I don't know what he wants from me. At least six girls stood ready to commit an entire slew of indecent acts with him right here in the commons room with total disregard to the bodies crammed into this place. I'm still in the awkward glances phase when it comes to guys. For sure I haven't graduated to one-night stands at frat parties.

I grind my heel into the floor. Perhaps it was my sexy stilettos that inspired him to slither on over.

"You go to Garrison?" He takes a swig from his soda. Odd that it's not a beer but a refreshing change of pace. On second thought, he's probably got it locked and loaded with an eighty-proof fuel enhancer.

"Just transferred in." I turn in an effort to shut down the prospect of evoking an erection out of him, but he's quick to jump back in my line of vision. "Look..." I sigh. "I'm actually engaged to Pennington." Sadly, I've resorted to playing fast and loose with the truth in hopes he'll find someone else to sexually assault for the evening.

He nearly chokes on his drink. "Really?" His face ignites in an ear-to-ear grin like he knows I'm lying.

"Really. Our mother's arranged the whole thing when we were like twelve." I leave out the part about meeting Pen for the first time last week in cyberspace. "He's pretty nice." Nice as a donkey's ass but that's none of Cruise Elton's freaking business. Besides, I don't like the smug look on his face, like I'm fresh meat ready for the sexual slaughter.

"That's too bad about the betrothal," he says, moving in close as an entire stream of bodies push in behind him. His soft cologne wraps around me like a pair of strong arms, and I feel the heat radiating from his body, covering me like a coat.

A linebacker carrying a keg in his arms, barrels through the center of the room, parting the crowd like a Red Sea miracle. The swell of humanity forces Cruise into me and we land flattened against the wall, with his iron abs pressed against me so tight you couldn't squeeze a quarter between us. His hips adhere to mine with a noticeable protrusion pressed against my thigh.

Cruise runs his heavy gaze over my features. His lips part involuntarily. We lock eyes, and neither of us moves from this compromising position.

The music dies down and a familiar Christmas carol belts over the speakers, inspiring a bunch of girls in the corner to sing along.

He grazes his bottom lip with his perfect straight teeth, so unearthly white they glow. "Do you believe in love at first sight, Kenny?"

Everything in me freezes. If I did believe in love at first sight, I would hope it would be with someone as godlike as Cruise Elton who saw fit to back me in a corner and bless me with his rock hard body - but, alas, the answer is no.

"After my mom's fifth marriage ended, I stopped believing in love and Santa." It comes out much cheerier than the sad news it really is.

He pulls his cheek to the side and gives a sexy smile that sears me with heat in places I've never felt before.

"I don't believe in it, either. But you can't tell me Santa isn't real." His grin widens. "I knew I liked you." He cups the side of my face and swallows hard. Gone is the playful flirt as his features take a turn for the serious. His eyes close as he comes in for the kill. My heart gives a few wild thumps, alerting me to the fact that Cruise Cock on Fire Elton has the power to induce a cardiac episode in me if he wanted.

"Whoa." I slap my hands over his chest and give a good shove. "Sorry, cowboy, I'm not into one-night stands either. I get it. I really do," I say, trying to maneuver my way from under him. "You're on a road show with your penis, and trust me, I'm the last person who wants to get in your way. But I'm telling you, operation occupy-my-vagina is a no-go for the evening."

"Road show?" He mouths the words, perplexed by my penile analogy, just long enough for me to twist myself free and speed over to a couple of girls as if I knew them. They're standing in front of a vast display of beverages, all of which guarantee a hangover with the exception of Coke or Pepsi.

I dart a glance back to Cruise only to find he's once again surrounded by his hormone happy harem.

A brunette digs her hand into the back of his jeans while a gorgeous blonde whispers in his ear, inspiring a laugh out of him. My stomach cinches at the sight of all those bimbos pawing at him. An unexpected pang of jealousy spreads through my chest, and I force myself to look away.

"Nice," I whisper.

"Ally Monroe." A chipper blonde with bright red lipstick takes up my hand. She's wrapped in a black-and-white-checkered coat, paired with patent leather boots that inch past her knees. I have on my less-than-warm jean jacket and spiked knock-off Manolos. Having lived in L.A. all my life, I'm pretty sure I'm ill-prepared for a brutal Massachusetts winter.

"Kendall," I say to the two of them.

"Lauren Ashby." The brunette gives a brief nod. Her hair cascades around her shoulders in waves, and I admire it for a moment. My own hair hangs long and for the most part, straight - dark as soot. Most of the time it just looks like a bad Halloween wig. "We see you've met Cruise." She tips her head back and laughs, revealing a pair of light-up Christmas tree earrings hidden beneath her dark tresses.

"Is he a graduation requirement?" I ask. Not that I'm anywhere near graduation. I'm a sophomore who recently upgraded her undeclared status to Liberal Arts with no real intention of doing anything productive with it.

Lauren laughs so hard she spills her drink over her bright red heels. "No, but God, wouldn't that be great? Actually, he's a mess. Stay away from him. He had a rough time last summer, and now he's nothing but a ball of testosterone on fire."

"He was shit on." Ally nods as if to testify to this.

"He was shat on." Lauren spears her with a look. "Get your grammar straight."

Pennington struts by with his collar turned up like a preppy and a pair of sunglasses firmly planted over his face, which cements any pending douchebag status I may have afforded him. I've seen enough pictures to know it's him, plus we Skyped twice last week to finalize my arrangements. He was supposed to pick me up from the airport, but he said he had a last-minute "emergency," so I blew through half the twenties in my wallet just transporting myself to this hotbed of immorality. Something tells me the crisis had to do with malt-grained liquor.

"There's my future husband," I say sarcastically, mostly to myself since they're both locked in a heated argument over semantics.

"Pennington?" Ally's mouth squares out and the two of them break out in cackles.

I speed over and yank him aside.

"Hey! How's it going? It's me, Kendall!" I pony up all the mock enthusiasm I can muster. "The party was fun and all, but I sort of just want to get settled in my room. Can I have the key?"

Pennington secured me a dorm on campus, which is really hard to do since they're usually booked by August, and here it is December, so I guess it's sort of my Christmas miracle.

His lips crimp. "About that..."

Or not.

"What happened?" I don't need to be Nancy Drew to know this isn't going to end well.

"Nothing happened." He sloshes his drink over the floor as if trying to wave off the absurdity. Pennington is tall and decent in the looks department, not in the caustic jump-in-my-bed sort of way that Cruise is - Pen is more your stoner boy next door. I'm sure every female within a twenty-mile radius would love nothing more than to drag Cruise off to the nearest bushes, and Pennington - well, he's the reason girls carry mace in their purse.

He nods into me. "You're going to have to crash here a few nights, just until I get everything squared away with the housing department. Turns out I didn't get your name in on time." He rolls his eyes as if little details like that were annoyingly unimportant. "But you're on a waiting list - put you there myself."

"What?" A thread of panic spikes through me. "I'm homeless?" It comes out more of a whimper than a question.

"No." He begins to sway because clearly, he's wasted out of his irresponsible mind. "When school opens up again, we'll get this whole stupid thing straightened out."

"This whole stupid thing?" I'm so ticked I'm ready to douse him with the contents of his bright red Solo. "School doesn't open for another three weeks," I squawk. "I was supposed to get settled, not arrested for trespassing. I can't stay here." I fan my arms out at the debauchery just as a dark-haired boy pukes in the center of the room.

"Suit yourself." He starts walking away. "Hey, my mom invited you to dinner Christmas eve." He gives a thumbs up before melting into the crowd. Pennington Thurston Alexander the Third is an ass of the highest order. And with a name like that, who could really blame him?

What to do?

What to freaking do!

I guess there's always Aunt Jackie. She's not my real aunt and I've yet to see or speak to her. All I know is that she and my mother were besties growing up and kept in touch over the years. They both went to Garrison and now her unreliable spawn and I are following in their footsteps. I guess I could shake Pennington down for her number. I'm sure she wouldn't want me seeking shelter on park benches or vomit-riddled frat rooms. Although, I'm not too enthused with the idea of shacking up with the elders, either. I've been dreaming of having the full collegiate experience ever since I received my acceptance letter back in May. Having to wait until winter seemed bad enough already.

I scan the room for Lauren and Ally. Surely they have a couch I can crash on tonight and maybe the next three weeks - at this point, I'd take the next three days. I pick up my pace and begin circling the room. Lauren cackles from the entry, and I catch them heading outside.

"Wait!" I bolt for my suitcase before maneuvering toward the door, but navigating my way out of this human maze is like moving boulders.

I make it to the porch, and the cool dew baptizes me with the scent of night jasmine. My suitcase bounces out of the house from behind and slices a nice, clean gash into my ankle.

"Pennington!" Somehow shouting his name as an expletive makes the situation a little more bearable.

I look up in time to see a black Jeep pull away with Ally in the passenger's seat.

"Great." I let out a hard sigh and clop down the rest of the stairs like I actually have someplace to go. In the distance an owl gives an eerie cry. The wind licks the wound at my ankle with its iced tongue and I shiver. I've never been alone like this before, in a strange town with nowhere to go. It's as though I laid myself in a steel jaw trap and the cruel world were closing in on me with its nefarious arms.

A couple to my left laughs while locked in an embrace. It's not until they pull away do I see it's Cruise and a tall redhead wearing thigh-high boots and a miniskirt violating more than its fair share of public indecency laws.

He catches my eye and holds it a second before glancing down at my suitcase. My stomach explodes with heat at the sight of him. Cruise whispers something in her ear, inspiring me to turn away as if I were at a bus stop waiting for my invisible ride - only I'm not. I'm stuck at Garrison, at Alpha Sigma Phi no less - tomorrow is Christmas Eve, I'm homeless, and hungry, and my feet are pissed off and bleeding.

"Hey, Kenny." Cruise swoops in and gleams a boastful smile.

I glance over in time to catch the girl in the thigh-highs making her way back to the party.

I give a private smile at the thought of Cruise striking out so close to midnight.

"I would have pegged her for a homerun," I say.

"She was." He gives a lopsided grin and takes a hold of my suitcase. "But I'd rather grab a bite with you."

Cruise

The moon glows overhead clear as a streetlamp, making the clouds look like black paper cutouts against the navy expanse. The sky threatens us with rain, but since the heater is out at my place, with my luck, I'm betting on snow.

But, for whatever reason, my run of bad juju seems to have temporarily halted because a goddess by the name of Kendall Jordan is sitting in my truck with one hell of a banging hot bod. And, holy shit, would I ever love to bang that body. But she's not the banging type. She made that abundantly clear when she accused my dick of having a "road show." She's funny as hell, though, I'll give her that.

We pull into the Johnny Burgers lot, and I slow down as we pass the front.

"Drive-thru or dine in?" I ask, hinting at the game of Questions from earlier.

She leans over and inspects the place. Her hair drapes over her shoulder like a long black scarf, and her pale grey eyes glow like those of a cat. Instinctively, I want to reach over and touch her but resist the effort. I have a feeling I'll be doing a lot of resisting around Kenny in the very near future. She's not the type to voluntarily fall on her knees, and that alone makes me want her twice as bad.

I look over to the burger joint. The windows are painted with a snowy scene of Santa making his way down a chimney with burgers and fries bursting from his sack. Miles of holly garland outline the doors. I look for the mistletoe - no such luck.

Kenny blinks into the place with her long dark lashes, and the lights go out in the establishment before she can answer.

"I guess that's drive-thru," I say, pulling in and we place our orders. Kenny hasn't said much, other than filling me in on Pennington's housing botch up. I'm not used to quiet girls. Moaning girls - screaming girls, now that I'm used to. Quiet worries me, makes me feel as if I'm doing something wrong.

She reaches for her purse.

"No, I got it." I pay the girl in the window before Kenny can mime the offer. I catch her inspecting me with what I'm hoping to God is lust but can just as easily be regret for ever setting foot in my truck, so I busy myself with putting away my wallet. "You're so damn good-looking it borders on illegal." I say it calm, more as a fact than something engineered to land her in bed. I think both me and my dick have come to terms with the fact Kenny Jordan isn't choosing in tonight.

She blushes a severe shade of pomegranate, and a sharp bite of heat cuts through me. I can't remember the last time I made a girl blush. Hell I didn't know they could blush, at least not the man-eaters I associate myself with.

"Thank you, I think." She averts her gaze out the blackened window.

I take in her pale skin, her perfect full lips and my heart pounds against my chest, telling me to knock this shit off or I might accidentally break it again.

The food comes through the window, so I hand Kenny the bags and drinks before heading to the overlook across the way. We can eat in peace on the cliff side with nothing but the Atlantic to distract us from ourselves.

"Where we going?" Her voice spikes as if she suddenly fears for her limbs.

"Just across the street." I pull into the lot and land square in front of the wooden fence that separates us from a two hundred foot drop. "You can see the beach from here." I take a quick swig of my soda. "So, where you from?"

"California. I love the beach. I practically grew up on one." She plays with the thin gold chain around her neck while stretching her gaze over the waterline. "I've never been to Massachusetts before. It looks nice from what I can see of it." She nods toward the windshield. "My mom really wanted me to get into Garrison." She unbuckles her seatbelt and dips into the bag, handing me a burger. "You know" - she averts her eyes - "work on that M-R-S. Degree." She gives a sexy gurgle when she says it. "At least that's what she wants."

"M-R-S, huh?" A tremble of laughter rattles through me. "Good luck with that." I take a giant bite of the artery buster in my hand and wash it down with my drink. "Standing at the altar is the last place you'll find me. I'm pretty sure I'm not getting married." A knot twists in my gut as if maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to shoot down any false matrimonial fantasies she might be entertaining - especially not if they involve me. I'm pretty sure I'd be happy to star in any damn fantasy she's willing to put me in.

She plucks out the fries and offers me one, so I accept. There's not a whole lot I wouldn't accept from Kenny at the moment.

"No altar for you, huh? That's because you're a player." She says it as fact.

I tick my head back a notch. "Who says I'm a player?"

I'm a player? Shit. I stare dumbfounded out the window a moment. That's what I've become. I guess bedding my way through the Greek alphabet, by way of sorority girls, will do that to a person.

"Yes, you're a player." She looks up at me from under those I-double-dog-dare you-to-get-me-in-bed lashes as she sips from her shake.

My gaze dips for a moment, taking in her fully formed, round, incredibly soft-looking cleavage, and my dick perks to attention. I shift and place the bag over my lap in the event things decide to get viral in my Levis.

"I don't need a roadmap." She purrs it out low - all vixen and hell on heels. "You had ten girls hanging all over you tonight. I think one of them digested your left ear."

I catch a glimpse of my slightly singed earlobe in the rearview mirror. "I think her name was Gina, and in her defense, she was offering a demonstration of what she could do with her mouth." I tuck a smile in the side of my cheek, enjoying the color as it blooms over her face and makes her skin glow. "How about you? You play the game?" I ask mostly to see if I can get her to blush ten shades deeper, see if the color would bleed down her neck and light up her boobs like a pair of Christmas ornaments. Getting Kenny to emit an afterglow has become my mission in life. Besides, I already know that Kenny Jordon is far from a player, and unfortunately for me, that pretty much takes her out of the running for playmate. Too bad I'm not in the market for a girlfriend, if I were, I'd battle to the death to make sure it was her. "On second thought, don't answer. There's no way in hell you'd even know what to play with." This time I bury the smile and go for the cardinal-coated gold. My body ignites with heat just watching her light up a deep velvet crimson.

Her mouth falls open. "No, I'm not a player." She says it drawn out, incredulous at my taunt. "But I could be." She crimps a smile, and a tiny dimple implodes in her left cheek. "If I wanted to."

Hot fucking damn.

Her cleavage magically enlarges as she leans in, and suddenly I'm finding the need to readjust the bag over my lap.

"Although" - she touches her lower lip with her finger, sending my penis in full scale erotic assault mode - "I haven't really even kissed anybody except for the time I was drunk at my senior graduation."

"Really?" What the hell is wrong with the guys in California?

"Yeah, really." She traces the outline of her lips with her finger.

I'd like to do that for her - with my tongue.

"So I guess that means you're a virgin." Shit. Did I just go there? Looks like it's all systems go to make sure Kenny stays the hell away from me. Nothing like a little self-sabotage coupled with a jab at her virginity to make sure she's safe from my "road show." Kenny needs some nice kid to sweep her off her feet, not me. I've got chains dangling from my bedposts for God's sake. Nope. There's not one nice thing about me these days.

"It's not a death sentence," she scolds. "Besides, maybe I will take my mother's unconventional advice. I could hang out with Pennington and see what happens." She makes a face as if it's the last thing on the planet she wants to do.

I swallow a laugh. "I'm pretty sure Pennington isn't the one for you."

She postures seductively as her hips grind into the seat. "Well, I have to start somewhere if I'm going to become the female version of you, don't I?" She bites down on the smile waiting to take over as if she's taunting me.

"Female version of me?" Intriguing concept, but I'm not buying it. I doubt she is either.

"Maybe I should turn things around for myself" - she gives an impish grin - "start taking advantage of all the fresh meat Garrison has to offer. You know, a social experiment."

"Social experiment?" I hold back a laugh. If I didn't know better I'd think she read my thesis. Has she read my thesis?

"Yeah, I can document my findings on what it feels like to become a female predator. They do exist, you know. The male species doesn't own exclusive rights to sexual domination."

"You want to sexually dominate." I find this doubtful. Although if she's hell-bent on diving into a cesspool of STDs, who am I to stop her? In fact, I might even introduce her to the chains a little sooner than anticipated. "And, by all means, I volunteer to do the documentation around here." I'll be published by fall.

"I could be the next big player at Garrison." She says it, stunned by her own admission. "I bet I can give you a run for your money."

"No you can't." I take a quick swig of my soda. No use in placating her with false ideals. A kitten like her would be eaten alive in the most extravagant sexual fashion if left to the rabid bears on campus.

"Well then, I'll just have to prove you wrong." Her neck arches in a seductive manner, paper-white and long like a pillar.

She accepts the challenge as if I just issued a dare. I should set her straight, release her from the bondage of ever becoming anything like me, but my mouth takes a U-turn.

"So, I guess you'll need some pointers." I start up the car and back out of the lot without giving my conscious a chance to weigh in on the matter.

She leans as the car moves and her chest swells out of her T-shirt, making me hungry for far more than food.

"Where we going?" she whispers, worried by my sudden interests to offer assistance, I'm sure.

"To my place." I'll have her running for the nearest convent by the time I'm through with her. "It's time to get to bed."