Page 2 of Little Paper Games
I have to say, it was difficult, calling my parents and asking if I could still rent out the duplex. They had just had their long-term tenant break their contract, so the place was open. I offered to pay them actual rent, but, of course, they refused. That’s just the kind of people they are. My parents along with their best friends, the Clarke’s, had gone in on the duplex to provide a place for their kids to live during college. Me. And Kenna.
Fucking McKenna Clarke.
I’d never met a more hoity-toity, know-it-all, pain in the ass girl in my life. She wasn’t a nerd. Well, she was, but not like you see in the movies. She wasn’t some glasses-wearing, socially awkward, wallflower of a nerd who wouldn’t know popularity if it bit her in the ass. No, she was popular. She got along with everyone, was the president of too many clubs, and while she did wear glasses, she was definitely not afraid to talk to anyone. Ever. She gave everyone a piece of her mind, almost always in the best way possible. Except when it came to me.
I swear, from the moment she was born, it was like she decided I was this horrible person and never looked back. Truth be told, I was kind of a dick for part of, most of, well, all of my high school career. But it’s not like I was the only popular kid in high school who lived life a little too wildly. I was on the ride of my life then. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t have been so bad had our parents not constantly been pushing us together. At first it seemed like they just wanted us to be the best of friends, but as we got older, I swear they were trying to hook us up so they could be in-laws for life. The sheer absurdity of that thought made me shake my head.
So, here I was now, unpacking my things in the middle of the night with a few buddies from high school, and singing at the top of our lungs to music that made it, so I didn’t think about all the pressure that I was under. I was grateful my friends had offered to help me unpack. It was a bitch getting it all done on my own, and I could not stand having unpacked boxes littering the place up.
It was a good thing Kenna wasn’t home. I couldn’t believe she was still living in the duplex. Why? I knew from everything my parents had told me that she had been working through college. She had a job. Why keep living under your parents thumb if you didn’t need to.
Why was I?
Well, when I think about it that way, I probably shouldn’t judge the girl.
Regardless, I was glad I could unwind tonight and not fucking worry about Kenna Clarke for at least one night. Maybe we would get lucky, and we wouldn’t actually see each other much. Or maybe Kenna had a boyfriend she stayed with the majority of the time.
There was no use thinking like that, but one could hope! All I needed to focus on was getting unpacked, getting prepared for this grad assistant program, and being the best possible assistant the professor had ever seen. I needed this on my application. I needed to get into law school. Now that I knew I could do it, I was bound and determined to make it happen. No matter what. I just had to focus and stay away from any and all distractions.
So, the less time spent between me and Kenna, the better.
Chapter 2
KENNA
One full week. Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours. That’s how long it had been since Jude had moved in. Not that I was counting. But seriously, what else could I do in this situation? The first night he’d moved in I got exactly twenty minutes of sleep thanks to his constant hammering, shouting, laughing, and whatever the hell else he and his buddies were doing over there.
I didn’t want to think about which friends were over there. It didn’t sound like his normal group from high school, which gave me some relief. Some. If I had animosity towards Jude, it was only exacerbated by my history with his friends. Regardless, their loud antics into the early morning hours was still making me cranky and I really needed to let it go.
In the days that followed, it had not been better.
First there was the fact that depending on what you did in the house and, more importantly,whereyou did it, the walls were basically paper thin. You could hear everything. Well, not everything. Certain sounds carried more than others. Voices were hard to hear unless someone was yelling.
Regardless, I was not happy to find out that Jude apparently works out first thing in the morning. Only after he drinks a protein shake. How would I know that you might ask? Because his damn blender went off at exactly 5:30 a.m. In the morning. In the morning! When people should be sleeping, he was blending who-knows-what into whatever concoction he probably had been conned into buying. If that weren’t the worst of it, he then spent an hour and a half—ninety minutes — working out.
I knewthattidbit because I could hear the equipment clanking below, the sound making its way clear up the staircase and into my bedroom.
Clang.
Clang
Jesus tits.
I am not a morning person. Not at all. It’s why I tended to choose more night classes than day classes. It’s not like I live much of a college night life these days, anyway.
No, it wasn’t really the scene for me. I’d frequented my fair share of parties during my freshman year of college, particularly after I met Dirk.
I know what you’re thinking. Who dates a guy named Dirk? Who even likes a guy named Dirk? But that’s what happened. I met him; he was all rough around the edges and made me feel like I was daring to try something bold and exciting. Like the things you see in movies or on TV shows. But Dirk wasn’t like the men in movies. No, everything about Dirk was video games, partying, and showering far too little for his particular body sweat issue.
But his face. His face was gorgeous. So was his ass, and…
No, I was not going to go there again. I was better off without him, no matter how horny I was now. Besides, who needed a man when a girl could have her trusty vibrator.
I reached over to the bedside table, pulling out my handy purple toy from the bottom drawer and got comfortable. If Jude-fucking-Lincoln was going to clank-clank away on his weights and shit, then I’m just going to buzz-buzz away trying to think of anything but that stupid noise.
My vibrator buzzed, and I slipped my hand under the sheets, getting comfortable against my pillows. I focused on the soft blankets against my smooth skin. Nothing beats soft blankets against freshly shaved legs. Seriously. I quickly slipped my panties off, giving a frustrated groan when they got stuck around my ankle.
“Fuck it,” I grumbled, spreading my legs, and getting situated into the same position I always did for this. It had been a week. A long week. I needed some relief.
