Had he meant to do that?
The stubborn way he kicks the grass, dark eyes staring so intently at it, as if he can will it to do what he wants, and the grim expression makes her wonder if that kiss was a spur of the moment, tipsy thing that he never meant to happen.
"Yes, Monica, I meant to do it. You can stop staring at me." he finally growls, looking up at the redhead standing a few feet away from him. She's wide-eyed and breathless, the shock not having quite worn off, yet.
Oh.
She must have voiced that thought out loud. She hadn't meant to, but she just doesn't know what to do. He kissed her. His mouth had been on hers, stealing her breath, and bruising her lips. And, oh God, it'd felt so good.
"I didn't realize I said anything." she finally murmurs, looking down at the ground instead of his face.
"You didn't - I could just tell." Andrew's crooked grin ties her stomach up in knots and irritates her to no end all at once, and she doesn't know what the hell she's supposed to do about it.
With a scoff and a roll of her brown eyes, she cuts him down sharply. "You're not a mind reader, you know?"
"No, you little brat, but I've been with a few women and I've seen that look before." Andrew retorts.
"Oh, you've been with a woman?" Monica's eyes widen in false shock. "I'm surprised. With all of your mixed signals, I'm amazed they even know you want to be with them."
"Well, I never made a habit of talking to the mean girls." Andrew shrugs his broad shoulders. "You're awfully antagonistic for someone your size."
"My size?" Monica looks down at herself before meeting his eyes. Her worry is for nothing, of course. He's picking on her. She thinks.
"Yeah." Andrew grins like the cat that ate the canary and had its mate for dessert. "Y'know," he motions with his hand to her overall appearance. "Pint sized."
"There is nothing wrong with my size." Monica's cheeks burn bright red, half embarrassment, half outrage. The audacity of this man. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
"How?"
"I'll drive." Monica spits, stalking away from him.
"I don't think that's a good idea." Andrew chases after her, "You've been drinking and I don't think you need to be driving."
"What are you, my father?" Monica snarls, turning to face him, again. "I think I know what I can and can't do."
"I'm not your father but Adam is like my brother and for some reason, known only by him, he loves you." Andrew rolls his eyes as if the very notion that someone could possibly love her is ridiculous. "And, if I let you drive, and you get hurt, it's my head he's going to want. His fraternity brothers are idiots but they're loyal as hell."
"You're not responsible for me!" Monica finally shouts. Oh, enough is enough. She wants to go home. She wants away from him. Before, she does something she's not one hundred percent sure she'll regret. "Go brag about what you've done!"
"Sweetheart," Andrew sighs, dropping his tensed shoulders. "I don't kiss and tell and I definitely don't let a drunk girl drive herself home."
"Is your ego really so big, you think that kiss made me drunk?" Monica sneers, practically stomping over to her car. "Newsflash, you don't make girls stupid."
"I don't but I've found alcohol makes everyone pretty damn stupid." he motions to the students passed out in the grass, "Exhibit A."
She recognizes a few of them, actually. One is a sorority sister and the others are boys she's seen in her classes. With a soft sigh, she realizes that he has a point. These are students who are going to wake up with a face full of trash and grass, whereas she could always crash in Adam's room. It wouldn't be her first time sleeping in his bed.
"Look," a pack of Marlboro reds emerge from the pocket of his shirt and his voice is breathy and muffled around the stem of a cigarette. "Let me call you a cab or find Adam and get him to do it but if I let you drive, I'm in for it."
"I already called you both a cab." Adam's deep voice booms over Monica's soft murmur of gratitude. "Cecelia saw what happened and came to get me. I think it's time for you both to go home. You need to regroup and sleep this off."
"Adam!"
"Monica." Adam's stern drawl quickly puts Monica in her place. He holds out his hand expectantly. "Give me your keys. I'll have your car home by morning." Monica's attempt at a glare does nothing for him. "Fireball."
Andrew is amused at the show she makes of handing over her keys, only to have the tables turn when Adam turns to him and motions for him to hand them over. "Yours too, Mississippi."
A soft curse under his breath makes Monica giggle. He's never been one to share his truck but if he has to. He drops the keys into Adam's palm with a dangerous glare. "Touch a damn thing in that truck and I'll never share my beer with you, again."
"Touchy, touchy." Adam grins, pointing to the driveway. "He should be here any minute. You two are going to share. Monica doesn't live very far off campus so it might be easier to drop her off first."
"You assume the princess remembers where her castle is." Andrew teases.
"Don't be a jackass." Adam warns, cuffing the back of his friend's head. "You've had more to drink than she has. I should know. I made hers. I didn't make that jack and coke you downed."
Andrew's face burns with embarrassment. Adam had a point, there. Noone had told him to down a drink that was mostly whiskey with a splash of soda, but he'd had to deal with Kathleen and seeing Monica dance with some guy she barely knew, and it had driven him straight to the bottle.
"Now, see that the lady arrives home safe." Adam gives him strict instructions, appealing to the southern gentleman hiding beneath the antagonistic jerk facade he'd been keeping up. "And, don't burn him alive, fireball. He's a sweet guy, give him a chance."
"Fine!" Andrew and Monica huff in unison.
"That's the spirit!"
…
When Andrew opens the back door of the cab to let Monica in, they're immediately greeted with an overwhelming scent of stale cigarette smoke, hair gel, and day old Thai food. "Uh, thanks." Monica's stare is more confusion than anything but her smile is shy when she greets the cab driver. "Hello!"
"Hiya sweetheart!" the cab driver is a Godfather wannabe with greasy hair and a large mustache that doesn't fit his face and ridiculous jewelry. "Lookin' good!"
His eyes rake her form hungrily. Behind her, Andrew's entire body tenses - muscles snapping to attention, everything loosened by alcohol tightens as he teeters precariously on the edge of decking the guy.
"Where to, sweetheart?" the cab driver's accent isn't immediately noticeable until Andrew crawls in after her and it thickens. "I see you've got yourself a boy toy."
"Eden Apartments." Monica's voice trembles a bit. She doesn't want to be in this car, anymore. She just wants to be at home and she hopes that if she keeps up the pretense of Andrew going home with her, he'll be more inclined to just take her to her apartments without a fuss.
The cab driver gives her a wink in the rear view mirror and starts on his way. The heavy watch around his wrist jingles and the glint of gold from his pinkie ring is dull but noticeable considering the size of the ring; it's all terribly gaudy and Andrew can't help but roll his eyes.
Monica sinks back into the seat while Andrew settles in beside her. He'll give the cab driver his address after Monica is dropped off. He does not want her alone with this sleazeball, even for a second.
"Great party, darlin'?" the question isn't inappropriate but he can tell by the way she reacts - she's not comfortable, she doesn't want to even be here, and she definitely doesn't want to talk to him.
"Party was fine." Andrew takes her silence as his cue.
"Wasn't askin' you," he glances up at his rearview mirror, only to find a pair of narrowed eyes, dark and dangerous staring back at him. It doesn't keep him from pressing the matter. "I was askin' her."
"The party was fine." Monica parrots Andrew's answer, gritting her teeth through the discomfort of being forced to speak to this idiot.
"Bet you had a lot to drink, hmm?" his voice makes her skin crawl; low and soft but grimy, makes them both feel like they need a shower. "Pretty girl like you probably gets handed drinks all night. Probably didn't even know what you were drinkin'."
Monica's eyes widen considerably. She had known what she was drinking. Adam made it and wrote the contents and her name on the cup. It'd been a cranberry vodka over ice with a twist of sugared lime.
"Actually, a friend of mine makes my drinks." she spits, but in his peripheral, Andrew sees her knuckles going pale around the manual window handle. "I always know what's in them. He's very protective of me. Like my brother."
"Bet he'd like to be more."
Again, with the slime. Nothing about this guy says he can be trusted. The way he talks to the leering at her in the rearview mirror. She's tense and anxious, releasing the handle to twist her hands in her lap.
"He's actually a good friend to both of us." Andrew's voice feels tight, sharp, torn from his throat with force. "And, I know him well enough to know that she is a sister to him."
"Bet he'd take her up on sex if she offered." that thick Staten Island accent pours more tension into the car. "I know I would."
"She wouldn't offer." Andrew tips his head, glaring daggers at the man. "And, she damn sure wouldn't offer a single thing to you."
"What are you, her bodyguard?" a rough snarl tears from him, bejeweled fists pounding the steering wheel.
"No, but," Andrew leans forward a little, "When she got in this car, it was with the expectation that she would be given a ride home. Nothing more. You couldn't leave it at that, could you?"
"She's -"
"A beautiful lady, yes, I agree." Andrew cuts him off sharply. "That might be the only thing we actually agree on because we don't agree on how a lady should be treated."
"I -"
"I don't care what defense you think you have," Andrew is not in the mood to hear it. "You've done nothing but make loud, inappropriate comments toward the lady since she got in. I don't appreciate it and she damn sure doesn't. So I suggest you shut the hell up!"
"Or, what?"
"I'm not from around here. I'm from Mississippi and let me tell you, sir, we have a very different way of handling assholes down there." Andrew's voice is gravel; low, dangerous, grating and if she tries, she can just ignore the shudder that creeps up her spine at the sound and the way it dampens her panties. "The way I see it, you have two options here and that's being generous. You can take the lady home without making anymore comments and I will kindly make my exit when she does." he spares a brief glance over his shoulder at Monica, pinned by some invisible force to the seat of the car. "Or, you can continue to make these comments and as soon as the lady exits the car, I rip you out of this taxi and stick my foot so far up your ass, you'll never reproduce. Which would be a gift. You're no example for a son and you're certainly not someone a young girl needs to be exposed to." a gruff laugh sends more heat curling down Monica's spine, more wet heat pools in her panties. "I'm not someone you want kicking your ass, believe me. I have a massive quarterback on my side and a fraternity full of athletes who would happily go to bat for the woman you've insulted with your crass, immature comments. I'm probably the least dangerous one you could be dealing with. Be thankful."
"You really think you can kick my ass?" he sneers at Andrew.
"I'm six foot, you're what, five-seven, five-eight if you put lifts in your shoes." Andrew growls in the man's ear. "You really think I'm scared of you? Now, drive. Take the lady home."
Monica's eyes widen considerably, not just at his threat, but at his voice; that low, raspy growl pouring out like molasses, slow and sticky, and that accent. If she didn't get home, she was going to have bigger problems than some pervert in a cheap car. She needed to not be in such a confined space with that voice, where it was all she could hear, where it was literally seared into her memory.
Andrew sinks back into his seat, dropping his hands to his lap while the driver grumbles under his breath about things she pretends not to hear. If the man next to her hears it, he makes no mention of it. Neither of them really relax until the rusted iron gates of Eden Apartment complex comes into view.
"You - you with the threats, you're out, too!" the driver spits over his shoulder.
Andrew's about to threaten him again when a small but strong hand grabs his arm and yanks him back. "He's with me, anyway. Thank you."
Not one to skip out on cab fare, Andrew tosses a fifty at the man, spits something about keeping the chance and reluctantly follows Monica to what he assumes is her apartment. If the way she is stomping is any indication, it was with a certain reluctance that she saved him from being stuck walking five miles in the opposite direction to get back to his campus housing.
"Uh, I just paid your cab fare." Andrew points out when they reach her apartment door. "And, saved you from some creepy pervert."
"I should thank you but now I'm stuck with you so I don't want to." Monica barks, shoving her key into the apartment door. "If you wouldn't have threatened him, you might have had a ride home!"
Andrew's mouth drops open in shock. Had she not heard what he did in that stupid car? Had she not heard the crass little pervert? "Well," she snaps, standing just inside the now open door. "Are you coming in or are you sleeping out there, tonight?"
If the veins in his neck hadn't been throbbing, already, because of her brashness, they definitely are, now, and everything in him snaps to attention. No. No. Hell no. "I am not sleeping here!" he shouts, storming into her apartment. He's not having this argument when she could slam the door in his face. "I am not doing it."
"What're you goin' to do? Walk home?" Monica mocks with a giggle. "Adam took our keys, remember? And set up that delightful cab ride!"
"He was crass, and you know it!" Andrew argues, motioning wildly, pointlessly, but he doesn't care. It emphasizes his point. Sort of. "Monica, he all but said you should offer him sex!"
"Okay, maybe that's true but I can take care of myself, thank you, very much!" she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Really?" Andrew tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at her. "That's why you could barely speak?"
Well, the perverted driver wasn't necessarily the whole reason. She just didn't want to tell him that when he started in on the driver, that voice had gone straight through her. It had pooled wet heat between her legs, dampened her panties to the point, she's pretty sure she's going to have to peel them off.
"I was fine!" she insists, despite still being able to feel the slick warmth and the ache from being so turned on, she couldn't physically voice her thoughts while they were stuck in a tiny car with a pervert.
"Who are you trying to convince, sweetheart? Me or yourself?" Andrew softens considerably, despite the fact that she's about to kick his ass, and he knows it.
"Monica? Is that you, hon?" Zoe's sleepy voice interrupts them before Monica can say anything. She stumbles into the living room to find Monica staring at a tall drink of water. "Uh, Mon, you went to the party with Mags?"
"This is Andrew." she motions to him, "Zoe, Andrew. Andrew, this is Zoe."
"Nice to meet you."
Oh.
Oh.
It's that Andrew.
"He's got to stay here, tonight, because he was an idiot." Monica's sharp glare just makes Andrew grin like an idiot. "Excuse me, I have to get him an extra pillow and some blankets."
"Uh, I'll, uh help!" Zoe rushes after Monica. "Mon?"
"Zoe?"
"That's Andrew?" Zoe giggles, jerking her thumb over her shoulder toward the living room.
"Yes?" Monica looks over at her best friend, utterly confused by Zoe's excited giggles. "Zoe?"
"Monica, he's hot!"
Monica says nothing, simply pulls a couple of extra blankets and a pillow from the closet she'd been digging through. Her blonde roommate follows eagerly, a bit puppy-like in her excitement to watch this play out.
"You can, uh, you can sleep on the couch, tonight." Monica tosses the bedding onto the couch. "I'll call Adam to take you home in the morning."
"Thank you." he eyes her playfully. "You're welcome, by the way."
"For what? I'm not thanking you for running your mouth so much you got kicked out of a cab." Monica growls, almost stomping her foot petulantly. She shrugs him off as casually as one might shrug off a sweater. "It's not like it was my honor you actually cared about. You just don't want Adam to have your head if something had happened."
"Contrary to what you might think, Monica, I don't just care about myself." Andrew corrects her sharply. "I was defending you, you insolent brat!"
"And, I told you I could take care of myself!" Monica snarls, ignoring the burn of tears in her eyes at the name. How, she hated being called a brat. "But, did you listen? No. You only cared about yourself!"
"Whatever, Monica!" Andrew waves her off.
A scowl in his general vicinity is all she answers with before mumbling something about needing a shower and stalking off. Zoe watches her go, mouth pursed tight in amusement. When the fiery redhead is out of sight, she finally gives into her giggles, and makes her way to the couch to help Andrew set up the couch.
"Sorry about her," Zoe apologizes, unfolding a blanket. She drapes it over the cushions and tucks it tight to keep it in place. "She's a bit much at times."
"It's alright." Andrew laughs, absently rubbing the back of his neck to stave off the awkwardness twisting him up into knots. "I, uh, I kind of like it."
"She kind of likes you." Zoe tells him softly, handing him the larger of the blankets Monica had picked. "She's just stubborn."
"I hadn't noticed." Andrew drawls sarcastically.
"Give her time." she murmurs, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "And, please don't hurt her."
"I won't, Zoe." Andrew promises, "Go to bed before Monica gets out of the shower and flies into a rage because I'm still here."
Zoe laughs and bids him goodnight before heading off to bed. Andrew tugs his shirt from his jeans and reaches for his belt buckle. His wallet and belt are dropped onto the coffee table and he lets himself drop onto the couch to tug his boots off. He's half-asleep by the time his head hits the pillow, only to snap wide awake when a familiar scent floods his senses; lilacs and vanilla and coffee and fire.
Monica.