Page 1 of Off Limits

CHAPTER ONE

Ellie

My flip-flops slap my heels as I march down the sidewalk to my brother’s house. I know he won’t be thrilled to see me, but that’s just too freakin’ bad. It’s late. I’m tired. The library just closed, and I have nowhere else to go.

The perfect end to the perfect evening.

Fortunately, he only lives about a half mile from campus, and even though walking alone at just after midnight on a weekend might be questionable from a safety perspective, wandering campus alone would definitely be worse. And while I could probably call my brother and have him come get me, that would give him the opportunity to argue with me about my choice of destination—namely, his house. Surprise is definitely the better tactic.

And let’s not discuss why I’ve spent most of my Friday night—the Friday of the first week of school, no less—in the library. We’ll ignore that right now. We’ll also ignore the reality of Cal’s reaction when I show up knocking on his door in the middle of the night. Not that I’m worried he’s asleep already. He won’t be. He and his roommate will probably be up playing video games. At least that’s what I assume they do on the weekends, especially during the football season when there are rules about parties and alcohol consumption. And when recovering from the grueling start-of-season practice schedule. That’s what he did in high school, anyway, and I haven’t noticed any marked changes in his interests since then.

I managed to avoid him most of my freshman year—both at his insistence and for my own sense of self-preservation—and I’m as irritated as he will be that this is the inauspicious start of my sophomore year.

To distract myself from Cal’s likely reaction at seeing me, I start making a list of phrases that never end well.

First up is the infamous,How bad can it be?Plus its cousin,How hard can it be?Everyone knows those lead nowhere good.

Next is,Hold my beer. Often uttered by drunken idiots immediately prior to undertaking something spectacularly idiotic.

And my newest entry to the list?Let me know if you need the room.I made the mistake of saying this to my roommate last week, and she’s taking advantage of the offer already. Which is fine, or it would be, if she only needed it for a few hours like I thought. But the few hours I expected appear to be stretching into all night.

Technically, it’s not supposed to be all night. It’s just until she tells me it’s safe to return. But after five hours, I still haven’t gotten the all clear.

Autumn is … lovely, but a little eccentric. And tonight she tells me she’s doing some kind of ritual to manifest the right energy for the year. She mentioned it having to be tonight because of the moon phase and chakra alignment or something that I didn’t quite follow. I think she might’ve also mentioned needing a guy? But I might’ve misunderstood that part. When she gets excited, she starts talking fast and doesn’t quite realize that not everyone grew up meditating naked under the full moon and reading tarot cards.

I met Autumn during freshman orientation last year, and thought she was fun, but we really hit it off when she wandered past my room and caught me changing the weekly quote on the whiteboard on my door. I started fancy lettering in high school while doodling in the margins of my notes. I’d pick an important word and embellish it. Eventually I branched out into calligraphy and various other forms of hand lettering. Doing it on a white board isn’t quite the same as on paper, but it was a fun way to make my room unique. Shelovedit, told me how she’d go out of her way to walk past my room just to see what new thing I’d put up but she hadn’t realized it was me. And we’ve been friends ever since. Anyone who gushes over my art is good people in my book. She’s open and bubbly and pulls me out of my shell in ways I didn’t know I needed before meeting her. I’ve spent my entire life living in the shadow of my parents’ expectations. Autumn doesn’t seem to have any such constraints, and part of me hopes that by living together, some of her adventurous spirit will rub off on me. But being forced to stand up for myself to my brother the first weekend of school isn’t exactly what I had in mind …

Turning into my brother’s walkway, I sigh with relief that I’m finally here, pleased that the porch light is on and there’s a light glowing through the closed curtains of the front window. It’s a cute little red brick house with a tidy front yard. That must be Simon’s doing, because I know Cal only does yard work when forced to. Or maybe Simon forces Cal to help. That thought makes me smile.

Two steps up and I’m in the sheltered alcove that houses their door. Steeling myself for Cal’s irritation, I raise my hand and knock firmly on the oak door. The sound of footsteps on creaky floorboards precedes the door opening, and I’m face to face with a chest. A solid, heavily muscled, naked chest. Perfectly rounded pecs dusted with dark hair and tipped with flat, dusky nipples a few shades darker than his tan skin fill my vision. His flat belly flexes under my gaze, muscles standing out in sharp relief under the porch light, more hair surrounding his belly button and dipping below the waistband of the gray sweats hanging off his narrow hips.

Swallowing hard and licking my lips, I don’t allow my gaze to dip farther south, knowing there’ll be thick thighs below the soft fabric. This isn’t my first encounter with Simon, and Imighthave Googled him to find pics of him in his football uniform after I first met him, but it is my first encounter with his naked chest. I thought he was mouthwatering fully clothed, but I was in no way prepared forthis.

I force myself to drag my gaze to Simon’s face. Not that it’s any less droolworthy than his chest. Square jaw covered in thick scruff, high cheekbones, full lips just shy of being pouty, a straight nose, dark eyes, and thick, level brows. His hair’s longer on top than the last time I saw it, but he has the sides trimmed close.

This guy.Damn.

The first time I met him, I immediately developed a crush, which I know would annoy Cal to no end. And while I love nothing more than to torture my brother—and let’s face it, he started it when we were little kids by constantly bossing me around and picking on me—somehow visibly drooling over his friend seems a step too far. So I do my best to rein it in and be normal. Or at least as normal as possible. As I’m sure Cal would love to say, I’m anything but normal.

God, and the last time I saw him, I actuallyhuggedhim. Like a moron. I’d come over so Cal could drive us home for Christmas last year, and before I left, I hugged Simon goodbye. I don’t even know why. It just seemed like the thing to do. I’d been hugging my friends goodbye all morning and the day before, and then I’d gotten to Cal’s place and Simon was there and we were leaving him behind, so I hugged him. And then Cal berated me for it for the first thirty minutes of the drive to Oregon, and then off and on the rest of the break. In fact, he brought it upagainbefore he headed back to Spokane when practices started up a few weeks ago. Heat flares in my cheeks at the memory.

Simon crosses his gigantic arms over his gorgeous chest I’m definitely not ogling—nope, because I’m looking at his face. It’s not my fault my peripheral vision is in perfect working order. His biceps and shoulders bunch and flex with the movement, and I can’t help it if my gaze dips to take it in. He’s moving. My eyes are drawn to movement. And beauty. And …

His brows draw together over chocolate brown eyes as he tips his head back to survey me. “Ellie? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, uh, well,” I stammer like I’m a moron who’s never been asked a question, never seen a hot guy, and never seen a hot guy without a shirt on. For the record, I’ve seen both those things before and managed not to stammer when asked a question.

Sighing, I rub my forehead, the closest thing I can come to slapping myself in the face and covering my face in mortification at the same time. “Sorry, Simon. I know Cal will be pissed I’m here, but my roommate’s—”

Simon steps back and gestures me in with a jerk of his head.

Tentatively, I step inside the door, standing in the long hallway that leads to the back of the house. Peering into the living room, I’m surprised when I don’t find Cal on the couch. “Where’s Cal?” I ask, turning to face Simon and pretend I’m not distracted by his bare chest.

Simon shrugs those massive shoulders. “Out. Have a seat.” And with that, he disappears down the hall.

I lean to the side as far as I can to peer after him without actually following him, because that would make me a creeper, and I’m not. But Iammystified, especially since he’s said maybe five words to me. What’s he doing?

With a shrug, I settle into a corner of the couch, because he said to have a seat, so I guess he’s okay with me hanging out, even if Cal’s not here.

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