Author: Cheryl McIntyre

Loden’s kind of a friend of mine. He’s on the swim team and exactly Annie’s type. He has that whole golden-boy thing going for him. He comes from money. I’m not sure of the who, what, or why, just that there’s money to his name. And a lot of it. He’s pre-law. From what I can tell, he’s smart, socially polite, and all that other boring shit she’s always looking for in a guy.

He’s also a little bit of a douche bag. I’ve never had an issue with him personally, but I’ve heard rumors. Apparently Loden doesn’t have a type. He likes women. A lot of women. And from what I understand, he’s not choosy.

The way he’s smiling at Annie, I’m guessing she fits whatever little requirements he might have. She’s a big girl. She can do whatever she wants. But as my friend’s sister, I feel an obligation to warn her. And if I’m being honest with myself, which I rarely am, I’m pissed off.

I pull myself out of the pool, my trunks slinking low on my hips from the weight of the water. Finding my towel, I pat my legs somewhat dry and join the two lovebirds on the bench.

“Hey, man,” Loden says. He nods at me. “How’s it going?”

“I can’t complain.” I nudge Annie because I’d rather talk to her alone, but she shoots me a look and refuses to move.

I sit down too close to her, my hip shoving into hers, forcing her over and getting her clothes wet. She makes a noise in her throat, something close to a growl, and I grin at her. “Can I talk to you real quick?”

She presses her lips together tightly and I can almost hear her counting to ten. “In a minute.”

“No it’s cool,” Loden says. “I need to go change anyway.”

Annie turns back to him and her face completely changes. Her eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning and she smiles widely.

“Tonight though. Eight o`clock.”

“Eight o`clock,” she echoes in confirmation. She watches him until he disappears through the locker room door.

“What’d you want?” she asks, her eyes lingering on the door.

“What’s at eight?” Not what I had wanted to talk to her about, but it is now.

She smiles and glances over at me. “He’s taking me out. Dancing.”

Annie likes all that kind of shit. Dancing and gymnastics. I guess that’s why she was a cheerleader all through high school.

“Where you going?”

Her brows merge and she gives her head a slight shake. “He didn’t say. Why?” I can feel her eyes on my face, but I’ve shifted my gaze away from her. I can’t watch her looking all happy when I’m trying to warn her about Loden.

I grimace. She’s going to be pissed. And usually I’m all for pissing Annie off, but I need her to hear me on this. And I’m not in the mood for her fury right now.

“Do you know him?”

She shrugs. “We have a class together. I talk to him sometimes.” She gestures at the pool. “I forgot he was on the swim team.”

“Do you know about his reputation?”

Eyes flicking over my face, Annie tips her head to the side, her cheeks growing pink. “What do you mean?”

I massage my forehead and groan simultaneously. It’s difficult to say this to Annie. Her specifically. Beginning of our senior year, something went down between Annie and this asshole at our high school. I was never given details—nor did I ever ask—but all of a sudden, Annie started avoiding him like he had the plague. Like she was scared of him.

My guess? Date rape. I punched the guy in his face at a party one night for talking shit about her and Hope. I’ve never talked to her about it because I’m afraid we’d have to talk about what he did to her.

So talking to her about sex and dating makes me nervous.

“Chase. What?”

“I’ve just heard that he doesn’t…you know…do the whole relationship thing.”

She blinks at me but remains silent. I have no idea what she’s thinking or if she even understands my meaning.

I inhale deeply and let it out all at once. “I think he wants to take you out to have sex with you,” I say, no longer choosing my words with care. “I wanted you to know that might be what’s going on so you’re prepared. In case you were expecting more.”

And then it occurs to me that maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she wants a hook-up.

“Don’t worry,” she says softly. “I don’t expect much from anybody anymore.” She scoops up her shoes as she stands. “Thanks for the warning, but I’ll be fine. I always am.”

“Are you?” I say to her retreating back.

She pauses and glances back at me. Then she shrugs indifferently. “Doesn’t really matter.”

9

Long Road to Ruin

Annie

It doesn’t really matter. That sentence keeps swirling around and around in my head. I haven’t been fine for a long time. I’m not sure I ever was to begin with. But I don’t know how to find that place in life where everything is fine. Where I’m content. All I can do is follow my plan and hope it leads me there. I try to push these thoughts down as I get ready for my date with Loden.

Loden Guiles. My stomach does this little twist, somewhere between butterflies and nausea.

He’s so beautiful with his blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s almost as tall as Chase, though not as pretty. But he has a more put-together vibe going for him. Clean shaven. Well dressed. And he has manicured nails at the end of soft hands. He takes pride in his appearance, which I appreciate.

I love that he’s on the swim team as well. It says so much about him as a person. I was in cheer in high school, so I know being part of a team means commitment, hard work, and dependability.

He’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. Exactly what I need in my life.

I won’t make the same mistakes my mom did. She didn’t know how to make a relationship work. She chose the wrong men time and again. Countless boyfriends came and went. Two failed marriages. Four children by three different men.

It wasn’t until she met Alec that this changed for her. She was thirty-five by that point. I don’t want that to be me. That can’t be me.

I don’t fail.

It’s just not an option.

This is why Loden is a great choice for me. I have heard the rumors Chase was talking about. But I’m not like those girls. I know better now than to just give it up in the back of some asshole’s car. Been there. Done that. Learned from it.

I’m going to make Loden work for it. If he can handle that, then we’re good.

I can see a whole future with him. The large colonial we’ll live in. The two children we’ll have. A boy and a girl. The nice cars we’ll drive. The charity events we’ll attend. The influence he’ll have as a lawyer, or even better, District Attorney.

I’m getting way ahead of myself, I know, but if I can’t picture some kind of future, then what’s the point? I don’t want to waste my time on frogs. Give me my prince, so I can begin my life.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I can’t say I’m exactly happy with what I see, but I don’t make myself want to cry anymore either. Large blue eyes that aren’t so bad after the eyeliner and mascara are applied. Cheekbones that are a little too sharp, but can be softened with the right blush. Lips that are on the thinner side. Thank goodness for lip liner to create the illusion of fuller lips guys go for. My teeth are now straight and I whiten every night. I’d say I like my smile now, but I hate the lines it creates around my eyes.

There’s always something.

I brush through my hair, choosing to leave it straightened. I examine the ends and my eyes flick over to the calendar above the desk. I’m due for a cut. I make a quick note and adhere it next to several others on my mirror so I don’t forget.

Lists and notes are important when it comes to organization. I should buy stock in post-its for as much money as I spend on them.

The alarm sounds on my phone—my five minute warning. A rush of adrenaline bursts through my body. I quickly spray some perfume into the air and step through it before going out to the common room to wait for Loden.

I pace the length of the couch twice and am just about to go for a third when there’s a knock at the door. I take a deep breath and smooth my hands over my stomach, down the length of my dress.

When I open the door, my breath catches. Loden looks incredible. And he smells so good. I don’t think guys truly understand how important scent is. The way it holds memories. The way it can either draw you in or push you away. The way a certain smell can make you feel safe or happy.

Loden’s cologne makes me want to abandon that whole make-him-work-for-it plan.

His eyes slowly move over me and he grins with approval. “You look beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you. You look nice too.”

He holds out his hand and I take it immediately. I like the smooth, softness of his embrace. An intelligent man’s hands.

He takes me to an eighteen and older club not far from campus. There’s a line wrapped around the corner, but Loden walks us past, and straight up to the door. The bouncer crosses his arms as he eyes us without much enthusiasm.

“Capacity,” he grunts. He hooks a thumb in the air and nods. “End of the line.”

Loden chuckles and leans into the big man. I don’t know what he says, but I catch an exchange of money, and the door is pulled open for us to pass. He takes my hand and guides me inside.

The music is loud, vibrating through my chest and pounding in my head. I like it and hate it at the same time. Loden’s large hand settles on my lower back as he maneuvers us through the crowd. He puts his mouth close to my ear so I can hear him over the music. “You want something to drink?”

“No, thanks. I’m okay right now.”

“You want to dance?”

I’d actually like to talk, but that doesn’t seem plausible here. Now that I think about it, this is a terrible place to have a first date. Unless you don’t really care about getting to know the person you’re with.

I nod. “Sure.” Even though I planned for this, I can’t help feeling disappointed that the rumors appear to be true after all.

He grins and spins me onto the dance floor. I let my body move to the beat of the music and Loden watches me for a moment before he joins in. I love to dance. When I was a little girl, my dream was to grow up and be a dancer. Mom put me in every class she could afford because there wasn’t much else that appealed to me. And I was good at it.

But I’m smart enough to know there’s no future in it. I don’t want to be a starving artist, spending my days auditioning and competing against girls more talented than me, hoping I get something that pays enough to cover my rent.

“You’re a good dancer,” Loden yells.

I grin at him, pushing the hair out of my face. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

He returns the grin and moves closer. My statement wasn’t an invitation, but a promise of what could come if he plays his cards right and doesn’t screw this up by rushing.

Loden’s hands rest on my hips as he moves in time with me. We make a good dance team, I have to admit. We look good together. We move well together.

We dance through several songs until my hair is plastered to my neck with sweat and I’m out of breath. “You want that drink now?” he asks.

I nod enthusiastically. My throat is dry and I’m overheated. A drink sounds perfect. I follow him, my hand wrapped securely in his. He gets two bottles of water and tugs me toward an open table. I sit and he pushes the other chair close to mine before heaving himself into it.

“Damn. I feel like I’m out of shape after that. That was intense.”

I sip the water, my eyes trailing over his shirt. “You’re definitely not out of shape,” I say.