Fuck, my life is not how I'd expected it would be by now.

From the 'grow up already,' lecture Dad had given me, which included a list of opinions the old man had held to himself for the past two years, to the sickening presence of Jake Harrison inches in front of me, my junior year's first semester was halfway over and already sucked balls.

And there is nothing good about eating the hairy avocadoes.

Nothing.

They're fucking disgusting.

Dad apparently decided breakfast a few weeks ago was the most appropriate time and, within one conversation, unleashed his opinions repressed under twenty years of leniency on me. From "Start to look more professional, less rainbow-colored hipster, Harper," to "Have you ever dated someone exclusively, Harper?" to "Figure where you are going in life or I'll figure it out for you," Dad lashed all of them out at me.

I sat at his kitchen table while half my Lucky Charms fell out of my wide open mouth and went... somewhere, I still wasn't sure. Not one lost for words ever, I just silently and numbly nodded my head like a fucking bobblehead doll.

Even after weeks went by, I still had no clue what I wanted for a career. Unlike Ellie, I was a mediocre student at best. My patience with school was limited and tolerance for reading, memorization, and studying less so. I carried an almost 3.0 GPA at Cabrillo, which was respectable enough. However, across all twenty community college classes I'd taken in my first two years there, not a damn one interested me enough that I pursued another class, let alone career, on any subject.

Math, no.

History? Fuck no.

Science? Double penetration fuck no.

Anything ending in '-ology'? Pop in a third for a spit roast fuck fuck fuck no.

Not even the 'Let's see how much I can embarrass Brody with my sexual innuendo vocabulary' game I'd played on the plane ride up here, or space away from California, had broken me out of my shitty mood. While I saw the appeal of Grace Hightower's warm, outgoing, and more than slightly oversharing personality, the sappy, lovesick eyes Dad shot at that MILF had still made me more nauseous than the plane's light turbulence.

I'll say one thing about Grace Hightower... At least she's distracting him from how much of a disappointment I am.

Prior to now, I'd assumed Dad largely ignored me while he buried himself in work case after case. I wasn't sure how he knew I'd reverted my social life into meaningless one-night stands but I'd been careful every time. I had a loose system of rules in place that, until now, I'd thought had been fool-proof.

Never take anyone home.

Wash the sex smells off.

IUD for the win, but condoms every time.

Fuck and chuck.

While I wanted nothing serious, which I told every single guy beforehand, almost all of them got attached. I'd considered another ride on the dick of the few that seemed as equally detached afterwards, but my sole reason for 'once is enough, twice is too messy' stood inches from me with a grin my fingers itched to smack off his stupid, smug face.

Fuck, he's even more attractive. Why. Why!?

Jake's dark brown hair curled around the top of his ears and his equally dark brown eyes were hooded and suggestive. Full, pale pink lips curled up into that familiar smirk that curled my hands into tight fists. At the sight of him, my body erupted into an internal war that, for now, remained self-contained beneath my skin. My vagina led the 'fuck him anywhere, please' argument against my brain's 'you're better than that now, Harper' mantra.

But how the fuck did I not sense he'd be here?

The evidence of Jake's appearance was as clear as the text messages he'd sent me yesterday while I ignored the drooling looks from Logan's teammates during their practice. The same messages practically burned a hole through my purse where my phone sat now, while I blinked up at Jake right in front of me.

dickhead: Hey firecracker.

me: The fuck do you want?

dickhead: Maybe I miss you.

I'd snorted louder than humanly possible at that last message, for the record.

me: I miss your ass like anyone misses hemorrhoids. Because that's what you are, a pain in my ass.

dickhead: Say that to my face next time.

I hadn't responded, or even considered what the hell he meant, before Dad had sat down next to me. Since I knew Dad drank the Jake Harrison Kool-Aid, I snapped my phone shut before he suspected something.

Or worse, ships us.

After Jake and I parted amicably from our fuck buddy setup in high school, I'd certainly thought about the asshole. The more distance we got, the clearer my head became and I saw him for the manwhore he really was. Ever since then, after almost two years of my most diligent avoidance tactics, his appearance here blindsided me for sure.

Jake certainly had moved on, with one desperate girl to the next, at least based on his pathetic excuse of social media pages. Anything but subtle, Jake flaunted his definite type - blonde, tall, thin, large fun bags, and obviously low standards - every time the face slightly changed.

Which was basically every week.

And yet, even when called back before the interview, Jake stayed back and sat next to me on the lobby's leather sofa. By this point, all the office workers, coaches, and staff were gone. Unfortunately, that left us alone in the room after one of the janitors had locked the doors from outside access.

Irritatingly, I sat on the farthest corner of the two-seat sofa and his fat ass plunked down on the seat crack, where his knee pressed into mine and one arm slipped onto the back of the sofa behind me.

Throwing arm too. Ballsy.

My nose twitched at the familiarity of his cologne, an au fraiche version of, ironically in this situation, a brand called Brut. The faint lavender and bergamot was quickly replaced by a stronger smell of sandalwood, which on Jake smelled slightly like aged leather.

I should know that smell, I got him that as a gag gift.

No, I should rip his arm out of its socket then slap his face with his own hand.

As if she sensed my intentions, Ellie called out, "Can you kill him after the interview?"

"No promises." I scoffed at Ellie's request and crossed my arms over my chest.

I watched silently while she and Logan walked hand in hand behind Janelle. Given the sappy look on Logan's face at Ellie, I was surprised he hadn't whisked her away, gotten eloped, and made babies with her by now.

With Ellie's height, I bet she's wider than taller if knocked up.

"You're never quiet," Jake's deep voice, which throbbed pulses into my traitorous vagina like a fucking homing beacon, taunted me out of my distracted thoughts. "C'mon, not even one insult?"

"Fuck, you're infuriating," I spat out at him and dragged my eyes away from the couple on the opposite ends of the height spectrum. "You make me want to steal money from my own wallet."

That damn smirk widened and the asshole had the nerve that he ran one of his fingers over the curve in my right cheek, then stopped near the corner of my mouth. "Better."

"You, six feet under and preferably dismembered in multiple locations, would be better," I mumbled and pressed my heels down so I avoided any further movements from my noticeably warmer internal temperature. The fucking jackhammer in my chest walls hadn't helped the indifferent, or preferably full-on rage, impression I hoped I projected.

"Fuck, you're so difficult." His gaze softened as his other hand's finger stroked gently over my cheek, which snapped my head back to where I almost knocked it into the wall behind me. "Not even coming all the way up here, even though I have to leave after the interview for the redeye back, impresses you."

"Ellie's impressed by actions," I reminded and pushed out my near-venomous feelings in the form of sarcasm. "Just by looking at them, I know they've had plenty of action lately. Or haven't you seen their heart eyes?"

"Nice try." His stupid smirk never wavered. "Doesn't work anymore."

"Not my only trick." The leather under my ass crinkled slightly as I leaned forwards until my chest pressed flush against his torso. I stifled my internal reaction from the friction that erupted as my nipples rubbed roughly over the fabric layers between us.

Two years of patience on USC's bench paid off for Jake's 6ft4 frame. I trailed the tips of all ten fingers along the wide, flat planes of his chest muscles, the ripled ridges of his obliques, and the rectangular abdominals that were rock hard even dulled through two layers of his thin dress shirt and white undershirt.

Fuck, I could do so many things with - nope, nope, nope.

The sharp in-breath and frenetic pulse at the point in his throat when I moved my mouth closer to his skin was more than enough evidence of how I still affected him.

"Two can play that game," he replied in a low tone. With one fast arm movement, Jake's large left hand pushed between my inner thighs and cupped right over my core area. Thankfully, I wore jeans but flinched slightly under the bold contact.

My hips jumped ship with my vagina and shifted against the friction he palmed into me. Before my now fogged-over brain registered his movements, two of his fingers popped my top button and threaded inside.

"You have a separate hotel room, right?" His hot breath washed over the side of my neck and preceded the hot trail of contact his lips traced up to behind my ear. With one tight squeeze of his hand over my bare outer folds, my lady parts erupted in cheers when he promised, "One word and I'll push my flight back for you."

Hold the syphilis, what the hell is happening right now!?

At this point I wasn't sure if I internally freaked out that we were caught and arrested as exhibitionists or riled up enough that I pushed another finger into play and fucked the hell out of both of them until the hot waves of arousal that now ached inside me were quelled.

"Yeah, that's a hard - fuck," I cursed when one of his long fingers bypassed my clit, dipped once into my inner hole, then withdrew so quickly the movement barely registered. After a soft chuckle and another kiss into the side of my neck, he snapped my jeans shut and sat upright.

"It would be a hard fuck," he agreed in a low voice that sounded less like flirting and more a promise.

"No, it's a hard -" I tossed aside my decency, reached over, and palmed the hard erection that even the best of fabric bulges hadn't hidden well enough from my eyes. "- no. I'm not risking -"

"Figured you'd use that excuse." Jake shifted his hips away from my grasp, pulled out his phone, then flashed me what looked like recent test results.

"Made your point, both of them," I teased and dropped my gaze down to his crotch. "How do you know I'm clean?"

"Because you're too paranoid not to get tested after every time," he retorted. His eyes looked almost black when he looked down at me, then proved his point, lifted his finger up to his mouth, slipped it into his mouth down to the hilt, hallowed his cheeks as he sucked hard, then slowly dragged it out.

I rolled my lips under at the terrible idea that Ellie and Logan were interviewed first while I fucked Jake in a nearby closet, or bathroom, behind the potted plant on my right, or -

No. NO. I've been Jake-clean for more than two years, no.

Not behind Ellie's back. No... No.

My last 'no' might have been internally whimpered.

"Mister Harrison?" A soft voice, attached to the same girl with mouse-nest brown hair who'd escorted Ellie and Logan, saved me from a most likely terrible decision. "Ready for you to get mic'd up."

I exhaled sharply once Jake stood up and left his invasion of my air space.

That was too close.

"Thanks, Jamie," Jake gave the poor girl a grin that sickened my stomach. Janelle's reaction was obviously different, as her brown eyes glossed over, she smiled a bit too widely, and even leaned her body closer to him.

Pathetic.

"Janelle." Her lips parted and she crooked one finger for him to follow her. "Wow y-you smell really... nice."

The fucker threw me one last smirk over his shoulder, added in a wink for good measure, then turned and left me in a state of complete hot mess. I hinged forwards, cupped the sides of my forehead with my hands, and squeezed my eyes shut.

Fuck, that was too close. I can't go there again, won't do that to Ellie.

I have to get this asshole out of my mind. But how?

Whatever physical reactions I'd experienced with Jake were thankfully incinerated the longer the interview progressed. My brain hadn't registered a single question and Ellie's slight twitches and pauses between every answer showed her nerves. Whether conscious or instinct, both Logan and Jake's large frames leaned closer to her, almost protective.

I stood behind Dad the entire time, who was so stiff I'd have assumed he'd forgotten to remove the coat hanger from his suit beforehand. His shoulders tensed up towards his ears, almost the entire time he crossed his arms over his chest, and his breaths alternated between held in and released sharply.

While a sports fan I wasn't, certainly hadn't watched any of the sports coverage TV channels, I had a vague idea who Rachel Sorenson was. Her overly polished look, down to the perfectly back seamed nylons to the annoying way her index finger dotted at the edge of her blonde hairline whenever her eyes locked with Jake's twisted a knot through my stomach.

She's attracted to him.

Jake reciprocated none of her tiny lapses in secrecy, which meant one of two possibilities.

Either he's not interested or fucked her and moved on.

One million interwebz dollars says it's the latter.

Tiny stings in my forearms brought my attention to how I'd dug my nails down into the skin. A quick look down revealed tiny crescent moon-shaped marks after I loosened my talons.

None of Rachel's questions for Logan or Ellie seemed incriminating in my opinion, but at one point Dad halted the entire thing. Once their microphones were removed and shut off, I heaved a sigh of relief, and turned towards the exit door. A warm hand circled my wrist and tugged me backwards.

"Can I have a word?" Jake's voice was quiet, without any edge of suggestion. If anything, he sounded as tired as the dullness in his eyes looked.

Once out in the hallway, I'd barely turned and faced Jake when he shocked me more than any crotch grab would've. Two strong arms wrapped around my waist and tugged me into his chest.

The hell is he hugging me for?

Oh fuck, this is awkward.

"I'm going to catch my normal flight," he murmured into my ear then, if I hadn't been shocked enough, leaned down and pressed a soft kiss into my nearest cheek.

"Did you hit your head, or was your microphone laced with something?" My nose scrunched with tension at whatever gooey version of Jake now stood in front of me.

"I was just thinking," he started, then stopped and cupped one of his palms over my mouth.

Probably for the best, I was going to tell him I smelled smoke.

"I don't want to force you to do anything." His soft expression tore an odd, unfamiliar feeling through me. I only recognized it as an incredibly uncomfortable, twisted sense of tension. My skin crawled like invisible spiders took a journey up my arms and across my shoulders.

"Jake -" I looked up at him and searched his expression but only watched while the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

While I assumed I looked like I experienced a brain aneurysm, one of his dark brown eyes closed in a wink. "Besides, when I have you, it'll be because you'll be begging me for it. Over, over, and over."

I hadn't realized how long my jaw had hung open until his hand on my mouth cupped my chin and pushed it up. With one last kiss pressed into my forehead, he stepped back, turned, and walked down the hallway. My eyes followed him without a blink because I still hadn't understood what the fuck happened.

Now I definitely have to get him out of my mind.