I'll Make You Mine Page 8

  She’s about to say something smart but has the decency to stop herself. “That was harsh.”

  “This isn’t? Stop making decisions for me and forcing me into horrible situations. And for the millionth time, there’s nothing going on with Dylan. He’s my best friend, so please, stop making us more than we are. If there’s pressure to be my boyfriend, he might change his mind about living with me.”

  Keely’s expression softens, and she looks like she’ll ease up on me. She won’t let me leave, but at least she isn’t tying me down. “Fine. I’m sorry I’ve been so bossy. Will you do this anyway? Just in case you meet someone who wants to explore the jungle?”

  “If I do this, you need to leave. Vanessa seeing me naked is bad enough.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait outside,” she says before I change my mind.

  I grab her arm and spin her around. “This is the last thing I’m doing for you. I’m done, Keely. I mean it. No more crazy sex store trips or boxes of condoms. No more waxing appointments or brilliant ideas. And no shapewear.”

  “This is brilliant, isn’t it?”

  “Keely.”

  “Maybe you’ll like being waxed so much, you’ll call Chaz. Stranger things have happened.”

  “Keely. I mean it.”

  “Okay, fine. Excuse me for wanting my sister to get laid.” She’s out the door before I tell her what I think about Chaz. None of which is very nice.

  Even though being bare down there won’t change my life, I’ll still go through with it. She’s planted the crazy dating idea in my head, and I’d die of embarrassment if I was a naked, scary mess.

  “Are you ready, Zoe?” Vanessa asks as she inches into the room like I’ll bite her head off.

  I pull my sweats and panties off, setting them on the chair in the corner. With my face on fire, I hurry to the table. I can’t believe I’m doing this. When I got up this morning, this wasn’t how I imagined my day going.

  My knees stay glued together when Vanessa tries to pry them apart. “Relax. I have to get in there.”

  The irony—the first person who wants in and it’s a woman. “How bad is this going to hurt?”

  “It’ll burn and sting for a few seconds, but it passes. I have lotion that helps with the stinging.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  The wax is soothing and warm, but I still jump when she touches it to my skin—because it’s down there and not on my forehead. My eyebrows have gotten used to the assault, but my vag is way more sensitive than my face.

  Staring at the poster on the ceiling, I try to transport myself to the beautiful scenery above me, but when the fabric strip that’s about to kill me passes by my head, I grip the table. After pressing it in place, I realize this will rock my world in the most unpleasant of ways.

  “I’ll pull it off on the count of three,” she warns. “One. Two. Th–”

  She doesn’t even get the last number out before she yanks and sends me spiraling down the deepest, darkest hole of death. I clench my fists and close my eyes, waiting for this not-so-awful pain to come and go like she promised. Only it doesn’t go away—it fucking lingers forever.

  Like I’ve been shot, I curl into the fetal position, wishing I was in my mother’s arms instead of lying on this table. “Are you fucking crazy?” I grit out between labored breaths. “This can’t be legal.”

  “The pain doesn’t last long. The next one won’t be as bad. It’s the initial shock that you’re experiencing.”

  “Shock? I’m positive you threw my skin in the trash along with that strip. There’s no way I can continue.”

  She grabs a mirror off the countertop, offering it like I want to see my angry crotch. I don’t look at it on a good day. Why would I want to see it now?

  “Maybe after you see the difference, you’ll change your mind about continuing.”

  Against my better judgment, I glance at my reflection. My normally pale skin is the angriest shade of red I’ve ever seen—even worse than a sunburn. But as much as I want to leave and pretend none of this happened, I can’t. Now that I have visual confirmation, I’m stuck going through with the rest. I can’t walk out of here with a landing strip and two bushes.

  “How many more times until you’re finished?” I ask her, hopeful that it’s two, tops.

  “Just a few. From here on out, it won’t hurt as much. Your body will numb itself.”

  “Do you get this done, Vanessa?”

  She shakes her head, taking away what little credibility she had. “It’s been a while,” she admits.

  “Makes sense. Why would you torture yourself when you can break other people’s vaginas and get paid for it?”

  Laughing because it’s true, she prepares another strip. “Just imagine how happy your boyfriend will be when he discovers what you’re doing for him.”

  “Now you’ve given me a new problem. I’ll be hairless, but considering I don’t have a boyfriend, I’ll have to find someone to have sex with before it grows back. How long do I have?”

  “You have time. I’d avoid any contact tonight though. You’ll be sensitive.”

  “No kidding.” This is all part of Keely’s evil plan to get me in the sack, sooner rather than later. Because she knows there’s no way in hell I’ll keep coming back. She thinks drastic measures will make something happen. She’s such a pain in the ass.

  By the time Vanessa finishes, I’m numb from the waist down, as she said I’d be. I can’t even put my underwear back on without wincing.

  She hands me a slip to give to the receptionist and I give her a fake smile. “I’m tipping you today because it’s proper business, but nothing about what you did deserves to be rewarded.”

  Vanessa’s still extra peppy when she opens the door. “I get yelled at all day long. I’m used to it. You’ll be back, though. They always are.”

  I waddle halfway into the waiting area before Keely notices me. She’s too busy chatting up the guy sitting in the chair next to her to ask me how it went. “Is it your turn? Or can I go home now?”

  “Nope, I’m still smooth as a baby’s bum,” she says with a chipper smile.

  Once we’re back in the car, I rest my head against the window, the coolness of the glass a welcomed relief on my overheated cheeks. I’ve never handled pain well, and today was proof of it.

  I completely forgot about my bag until we’re sitting in front of Dylan’s house.

  “Is he home?” Keely asks.

  “Will you text him and see? I’m not getting out of the car unless I have to.” Because I don’t want my pants to rub against my crotch.

  Keely pokes at the screen of her phone with the tip of her fingernail. She hits Send and waits for him to respond. A few seconds later, the front door opens, and Dylan’s standing on the other side without his shirt, again.

  “Looks like he’s home. And half naked. Do you want me to wait or do you think you’ll just go at it?”

  My arm reaches across the seat and I smack her in the head. I’ve earned the right to strike my sister. “Go be evil with someone else. I’ll talk to you when I forgive you.”

  “You’ll thank me, Zoe. You’ll see,” she yells out the window before speeding away.

  Dylan opens the screen door, sticking his head outside. “What happened?”

  “I forgot my bag.”

  “No, why are you walking like an old man?”

  “Broken vagina.”

  “What?” He holds the door open wider, letting me squeeze by him.

  “Have you seen my bag? I can’t believe I forgot it.” I forgot it because he was too busy talking about my ass and saying things that made my heart flutter. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume Keely and Dylan were working together. But Dylan would never play games with me.

  “Your bag’s on the table. Where’d Keely take you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I have boxes to pack. I’d rather take the bare minimum home for break and leave the rest in the new house if that’s okay with you. Unles
s you think we shouldn’t. I figured if it snows while we’re home, it’ll make moving that much harder after we get back. Are you staying home the whole winter break or coming back to the house?”

  “You’re rambling, Zo. What has you so worked up?”

  I cover my face with my hands, whimpering into them. Dylan wraps his fingers around my wrists and pulls them away from my cheeks so he can see my face. I wish he wouldn’t have.

  “Come on, what is it?”

  “My crotch is killing me, Dylan. Fucking killing me. Will you be here or not?”

  He sputters for a few seconds, trying his best to respond without tripping over his tongue. “I’ll be at the new house after Christmas passes. I’m moving a bunch of stuff before I go home. When do you plan on coming back?” He slides a shirt over his head and grabs his keys off the hook on the wall.

  “After Christmas. I’ll be back for New Year’s. You’re the only one entertaining enough to stay up to see the ball drop with. My dad always falls asleep and Keely will be out partying someplace.”

  “Good, it’ll be our first party in the new house. Come on, I’ll drive you back to the dorms.”

  I scoot through the door ahead of him, looking over my shoulder. “Two people doesn’t make a party.”

  “Sure it does. You’re all I need, Zo.”

  “Ditto,” I tell him as goose bumps break out on my arms underneath my down coat. I never used to react when Dylan said nice things, but it’s happening more and more. Instead of scaring me, it only confuses me and blurs the lines.

  Until last night, he’s never tried to kiss me or even come close. But I was so sure it was about to happen when he threw me down on the couch. I could barely breathe.

  Now, the only reason I’m having trouble catching my breath is because sitting hurts as much as walking. I try my hardest to keep my mouth shut when I get into his passenger seat, but I still groan in the most unattractive way.

  Dylan looks at me like I’m crazy. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Vanessa says I’ll be fine.”

  “Who’s Vanessa?”

  “The girl who waxed me.”

  “Waxed you? As in . . . down there.” His eyes fall to my crotch, and I can’t tell whose face flushes first. My cheeks are on fire again, and I can’t hide it in such a small space.

  “It was Keely’s Christmas gift. The gift that keeps giving.”

  “Fuck,” Dylan whispers. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”

  “Why not? Because it’s Keely?”

  “No, because it’s you.”

  “Right, weird. Sorry.”

  He looks like he’s about to jump out of the car and find the closest bar, but he keeps driving until he’s in front of my dorm with his blinkers on.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “No problem. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I need an ice pack or a new crotch. Some rope to tie up my sister. “I might need a couple more boxes.”

  “You got it.”

  I’m about to close the door when he leans across the passenger seat. “Hey, Zo?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why’d Keely do that to you?”

  Haven’t I suffered enough humiliation today? “Long story short, it’s time to put myself out there. I figure it’s a good New Year’s resolution, so I guess I can try.”

  “Your resolution was getting waxed?”

  “No.” He’s going to make me spell this out for him, isn’t he?

  “I’m confused,” he says.

  “Keely got into my head, but she had some valid points. Life is busy now, but once grad school starts, it will only get busier—even busier with medical school. If I’m not careful, life will pass by and I’ll have played it safe the entire time.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with playing it safe.”

  “Dylan, I’ve never been on a real date. A guy has never undressed me and I’ve obviously never been intimate. I think it’s time to see what’s out there.”

  With a stunned expression, probably because I’ve never mentioned dating or a future with a man, Dylan says, “Wait, this is about sex?”

  I cover my face with my hands again, wishing I could melt into the sidewalk or disappear altogether. “We’re not having this conversation. But yes, at our age, sex goes along with a relationship.”

  “Don’t do it, Zo.”

  “Don’t do what? Sex? I don’t even know how to sex.”

  He grips the steering wheel and nods, his eyes boring straight into mine. With more conviction than I’ve ever seen him have, he says, “Yeah, just don’t. Please.”

  I’ve seen guys beg for sex before, but I’ve never met one who begs a girl not to do it.

  Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Because Dylan’s staring at me like sex is the worst possible idea I could ever have.

  Before I can ask why, his phone rings, interrupting our conversation. He takes the call, so I close the car door and hobble into the dorm.

  My pride’s a little battered and my body’s a little bruised. But what I don’t understand is why Dylan looked like he wanted to throw up or jump off a bridge.

  Sleeping with me wouldn’t be that bad, would it?

  Dylan

  Had it been anyone other than my mother, I would have ignored the call. Now I’m driving around in circles, trying to decide if I should go home or back to Zoe’s dorm.

  I need to talk to her.

  All I heard was her rambling about being lonely. About how she’s trying to date and doesn’t understand what she’s doing, but that it was time.

  I’m more than okay with that. I’ve been begging her to see me as more than her best friend for years. If she’s ready, I want her to be ready with me. Not someone else. That’s what I’m having a problem with.

  The second she mentioned hopping into bed with some dude, I couldn’t think straight. There’s no way I’m letting that happen.

  With winter break starting, we’ll be apart more than usual, doing our own family celebrations. That means she’ll have more alone time with Keely—the one who set this plan in motion. That makes my stomach churn, because where there’s Keely, there’s Chaz. And Chaz wants my girl.

  Fuck it.

  I turn my car around and drive toward the dorm.

  Tonight I had planned on bringing some of Zoe’s boxes to the new apartment, but I’m fast forwarding a few hours. After her admission in the car, there’s no way I can go home and pretend like it didn’t happen. I need to talk to Zoe. And I need her to listen.

  I ignore the speed limit and even run a stop sign. By the time I reach the dorm, I throw the car in park and run inside.

  The tool at the front desk is eating broccoli again, maybe Brussels sprouts, this time dripping in cheese. Whatever it is it fucking stinks.

  He holds up his clipboard, yelling something about signing in, but I don’t have time for that. I skip the slower-than-molasses elevator and jog up the stairs.

  With a raised fist, I’m about to knock on Zoe’s door when I notice it’s cracked open. Her sweet voice is confident when she says, “Get in there. Don’t stop.” Followed by a throaty, “Oh my god.”

  Nothing about her voice is gentle—and she’s breathless.

  “Ahhhh, keep going. Please,” she begs.

  What the fuck is going on?

  “Yessss.”

  I’m freaked out about what’s happening on the other side of the door, so I do the only logical thing I can think of. I barge in, ready to pull some asshole off of Zoe. But I blink a couple times, because the first glimpse of her isn’t what I was expecting.

  Zoe’s face down, ass up, on top of a suitcase. A large piece of luggage bulging at the seams from all the shit she tried to shove inside of it.

  The second she senses me, she screams and falls onto the floor beside the suitcase.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “I should ask you the same thing. You scared me,” she says from the floor wh
ere she’s sprawled out and spent from wrestling with the zipper.

  Uneasiness is written all over my face. She notices, and I need to stop staring and start talking. “I wanted to bring some of your stuff to the house since I’m already out.”

  Still dressed in my clothes, she sits up, wincing as she fidgets with her sweats. The simple movement kills me. Abso-fuckin’-lutely kills me.

  “I have two small boxes done. The suitcase is going home with me.”

  I hate myself for not sitting down next to her and telling her how much I want to be with her. Why can’t I say the words? If I could just tell her, she wouldn’t have to worry about dating. There would be no confusion about our friendship. We’d be together.

  “How are you feelin’?” I regret asking because I’m back to picturing her naked. And a naked Zoe that isn’t mine, is torture.

  “A little better, but not much. I still hate Vanessa.”

  “Good. That’s great.”

  She holds out her hand and I help her off the floor. Like a chump, I pull her close enough to smell her vanilla shampoo.

  “What’s wrong? You’re acting weird,” she says after she catches me sniffing. I need to leave before I start licking her.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “I’m fine,” I lie. If I was fine, I wouldn’t adjust my pants when she’s not looking. I wouldn’t pretend I’m not infuriated and turned on by the sound of her voice, especially when she was on top of the suitcase.

  She gives me a sideways glance and shakes her head. “Your back hurts, doesn’t it? I told you not to sleep on the couch, Dylan.”

  “My back doesn’t hurt. Stop worrying about it.”

  She tosses a few more things from her desk into the box she’s been working on and packs with a purpose. “So, we’re both leaving tomorrow. And then we’re officially moving in New Year’s Eve, right?”

  Rocking back and forth on my heels, I look around the room and realize it’ll soon be empty. All this stuff will be in a bedroom next to mine. I can’t believe she’s leaving the dorms to finish out the year with me, the first of many years.

  “Dylan?”

  “What?”

  “Did you hear a word I said?”

  I heard her sexy moans, loud and clear. “Sorry, say it again.”