Charge (Electric Series #1) Read online

  “Then I’m sold.” She pulled out the blueberry muffin and picked small crumbles from the top before popping them into her mouth. The second the first bite was in her mouth, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. “This is off the hook.”

  Off the hook? “Is that how you talk when you’re in the classroom?”

  “I would if I were eating this muffin.”

  I chuckled then snatched a piece and popped it into my mouth.

  “Hey. I thought you didn’t have a sweet tooth.”

  “Well, you wore me down.” I quickly chewed it and swallowed.

  “What do you think?”

  I slowly nodded. “You know what? This really is off the hook and da bomb.”

  She covered her mouth and laughed, almost dropping her muffin. “I didn’t say da. You added that word all on your own.”

  “And it’s fitting.” I took another piece of the muffin and ate it.

  She pushed the enormous bag toward me. “Have whatever you want. There’s plenty to go around.”

  “I’d rather split this one with you. I can’t eat a whole one by myself.”

  She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh. “Sorry, you sound like a girl.”

  “A masculine one.”

  “You have to keep your body under six percent body fat?” she teased.

  I immediately smiled because I liked the fact she guessed so accurately. “Actually, yeah.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not my style. I love food too much.”

  “Your body doesn’t imply it.”

  “Why do you think I always wear loose dresses?” She gave me a knowing look, like she defeated me in an imaginary battle. “I’ve got a tummy and some serious thighs.”

  I didn’t believe that. I could admit she wasn’t a supermodel, but she still had a great rig. “Women are always hard on themselves. Not sure why.”

  “Now that I’ve seen the type of women you go home with, I know exactly why. Men want a perfect woman who eats like a pig but doesn’t gain a pound anywhere. They have to hold their liquor just like a man, but they have to be a classy drunk as they do it. I can’t do either of those things so I’ll never be the perfect woman. But you know what? I’m fine with that. I still get that D from time to time.” She waggled her eyebrows before she sipped her coffee.

  I forgot about the conversation we were having momentarily because I was absorbed with the playful look on her face. Now that she cooled her jets, she was actually fun—and funny. “What’s your type?”

  “Type of what? Ice cream?”

  “Sure. But that’s not what I was asking.”

  “Mint chip,” she answered. “And what were you really asking?” She picked at her muffin until nothing but the wrapper was left.

  “Your type of man.” Because I clearly wasn’t it.

  “I don’t really have a type.” She covered her lips with her fingertips as she continued talking. “I’m not picky.”

  “Come on, you must have an idea.”

  She wiped her hands together to dissolve all the crumbs from her fingertips. “Well, I like guys who don’t take themselves too seriously. You know, they can make fun of themselves. I like someone who’s honest and genuine. And they have to make me laugh. If he’s not my best friend, then it’ll never work.”

  Whenever I asked that question to women, I never got that response. “But what about their features?”

  “I don’t care about that. Cute is cute.”

  “There must be some physical attraction to a relationship. Otherwise, it’ll never last. One partner will cheat. It’s a guarantee.”

  “Well, I do value physical attraction. But it’s definitely not the most important factor in a relationship. I want a nice guy. You know, someone trustworthy.”

  There was no such thing. “Guys aren’t trustworthy. They’re all dogs.”

  “Not all of them.” She grabbed a cookie from the bag.

  “Yes. All of them.”

  She broke off a piece and looked at me. “Does that include you?”

  I’m the biggest dog of all. “Absolutely.” I should’ve felt ashamed for saying that, but I wasn’t. I’d been hurt so irrevocably that I was never the same. My heart disappeared that night, and I never found it again. My friendships were never the same because I couldn’t even trust my buddies. All I wanted was to screw because feeling meaningless pleasure mixed with nothing was better than feeling heartbroken all the time.

  Taylor didn’t take a bite of her cookie because all of her attention was directed at me. “I don’t believe that.”

  “I kissed you, didn’t I?” Just an hour ago, she was pissed at me for it.

  “You aren’t a dog for kissing me. When I pulled away, you stopped. A real asshole would have pressed me against the door and forced the kiss to happen against my will. So, no, you don’t fall into that category.”

  She didn’t know the truth. She suspected I spent my nights screwing anything that moved, but she didn’t understand just how bad it was. I’d broken hearts and beds. I’d broken promises and plans. I was entirely selfish and only cared about myself. There was no way to misinterpret what I really was.

  “When I was lost in the city, you helped me. You could have turned around and walked away, but you didn’t.”

  “That doesn’t make me a good person.” Not by a long shot.

  “It doesn’t make you a bad person either.”

  The conversation was beginning to make me fidget. I took a long drink of my coffee just so I would have something to do.

  “Is there a reason why you are the way you are?”

  Like I would ever tell her. “No.”

  “You don’t do relationships at all?”

  “No.” I’d had this conversation with a lot of women, and my same answers were making me feel numb.

  “Is it because you haven’t found the right woman yet?”

  I laughed because her question was just stupid. “I’m a permanent bachelor because I like it that way. I like sleeping around and making the rounds in different beds with different women. Sometimes, I like two girls at once, even three. I have a specific palate, and that’s just how I am. I don’t apologize for it, and I never will.”

  She studied my face like she still didn’t believe me. “It’s interesting.”

  “What?” My sex life was interesting?

  “You’re so compassionate when it comes to young minds and education. You started an entire company with the intention of helping people. When you talk about your years as a schoolteacher, it’s with fondness. But then you have this side of you…which is dark and twisted. It’s so contradictory that I don’t believe what you’re saying. There is a reason why you’re this way—I just don’t have a clue what it is.”

  Instead of being impressed by her observation, I was ticked. I didn’t want people to read me, to analyze my behavior and try to understand me. Once, I was an open book with no secrets. But now I was closed off from everyone because I was ashamed of my stupidity. I let someone trick me, mislead me, and I allowed her to make a complete fool out of me. My walls reached the sky, and I didn’t like it when people tried to tear them down.

  Taylor must have known she crossed a line. She felt it in the air and shifted her weight slightly, as if she was trying to get away from it. “I offended you. I’m sorry.”

  I stared at her without blinking, unable to control my rage and irritation. “Don’t try to figure me out. Don’t analyze me. I hate that.”

  “Okay.”

  “Otherwise, our friendship is done.”

  Instead of looking away, she met my gaze. There wasn’t a trace of fear or intimidation. “You got it.”

  I wanted to storm off, but something was keeping me there. I liked the way my life was, how sheltered and shadowed it was. When someone risked that and peeked through the clouds, it bothered me. But yet, I remained.

  She opened the bag and pulled out the other blueberry muffin. She handed it to me, giving me
a smile that would cheer anyone up. “My peace offering.” She grabbed my hand and placed it within my fingers.

  It was hard to stay mad when she did something so innocent and cute. I felt the soft muffin in my grasp before I took a bite. “Better not be poisoned.”

  “Oh, no. I would never poison my friend.”

  Chapter Five

  Taylor

  Sara shoved her hand inside the paper bag and pulled out a pecan cookie. “I’ve eaten ten of these. I can’t stop.”

  “They’re good, huh? I went to this bakery downtown, and it was amazing.”

  “Which one?”

  “It’s called The Muffin Girl.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard of that place. There’s another location next to my work.”

  “I didn’t know it was a chain.” It seemed too cozy to be corporate.

  “I don’t think it is. It’s just expanded.”

  That part didn’t surprise me. The place had a warm atmosphere, and it smelled so good that they should have an air freshener in that scent.

  “Go there with anyone?” she asked.

  “Yeah, a friend.”

  Sara had become a couch potato over the past year. She didn’t want to go out or do anything. When we did hang out, it was at my place or hers. “A guy friend?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yeah, actually. But he really is just a friend.”

  “Is he hot?”

  So hot it should be illegal. “He’s definitely a looker. But I don’t see him like that.”

  “How can you not?”

  “He’s not my type. You know, he’s the manwhore type.”

  “Oh…gotcha.” She nodded like she understood that all too well. “Steer clear of him. You’ll think he’ll change for you, but he never will. When a man has too many options, he never sticks with one thing.”

  I suspected Volt’s behavior arose from a deeper level than indecision, but I didn’t dwell on it. He was fiercely private, and I wasn’t going to stick my nose where it didn’t belong. “I really like being his friend anyway. I get a lot more enjoyment out of it than if I were to sleep with him.”

  “He’s gay?”

  I laughed. “No, definitely not. But he shows a more humane side of himself when I’m off-limits.”

  “Why do guys act so strange once pussy is involved?”

  I shrugged. “I think that’s a question women will ask until the end of time.”

  “Yeah, probably,” she said with a chuckle.

  The Bachelorette was playing on the TV, and I just finished a game of Candy Crush on my phone. “You wanna go out this weekend? Hit up a bar and find some cute guys?”

  Like always, she sidestepped the question. “Nah. I have a long week.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. I wanted to be there for my friend while she went through a hard time, but it’d been a year. She should be over it by now. And I needed to go out and mingle. Maybe the perfect guy was out there—waiting for me just as I was waiting for him.

  ***

  “Back left pocket.” Jared hit the ball, and it rolled right into the hole. “Boom.”

  “Shut up, asshole,” Derek said. “Get on with your turn.”

  Jared moved around the table until he found his next shot.

  Natalie stared at his ass, practically drooling.

  I hoped no one else noticed. “Hey, Nat.”

  She snapped out of her trance. “What’s up?”

  “Let’s go barhopping tomorrow,” I said. “Meet some sexy dudes.”

  “Tomorrow?” she asked. “Well, I—”

  “Perfect,” I said. “We’ll meet at The Lion and The Spider—”

  “The Lion and The Snake.” Like always, Volt appeared out of the shadows and graced us with his unexpected presence.

  “Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and nudged him in the side. “She knew what I meant.” When my elbow connected with his stomach, I felt a solid slab of concrete. It actually hurt my arm a little.

  “I doubt it,” he said. “And what will you two be doing there?”

  “We’re going to meet our future husbands.” I held my beer in my hand and watched Natalie’s expression. She definitely wasn’t into the idea.

  “Your future husband?” Volt asked. “In a bar?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

  “You aren’t going to meet a good guy in a bar.”

  “Okay, cupid,” I said. “Where will I meet a good guy, then?”

  He adopted a stumped expression. “I don’t know… The library?”

  I turned back to Natalie. “Ignore him. Let’s go.”

  “What about dating apps?” he asked. “Tons of chicks use those.”

  “I don’t want to do that,” I said. “I’m sure it’s fine, but I want to meet someone organically.”

  “Or there’s Tinder.” He grinned from ear to ear. “I speak very highly of that app.”

  I nudged him in the stomach again.

  This time, he grabbed my arm and dragged me into him. “You wanna play a round?”

  When I was this close to him, I smelled his familiar scent, the masculine tone mixed with body soap. “A round of what?”

  “Pool.” Without waiting for my answer, he pulled me to our own table and grabbed two pool cues. “Do you know how to play?”

  I glared at him—venomously.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” He racked the balls and set them up on one side of the table. “Break, sweetheart.”

  “Her name is Tayz,” Derek called from the other table. “Get it right, bro.”

  “Tayz?” He turned to me, a permanent grin on his face.

  I approached the table and positioned my stick. “Yes. I’m cool like that.”

  “Your students call you that?”

  I lined up the shot then slammed the stick hard into the cue ball. It slammed into the triangular formation and sent the balls flying everywhere, sinking a solid into the corner pocket. “No. But that would be fun if they did.”

  He eyed the balls on the table with a look of approval. “Where did you learn to play like that?”

  I shrugged. “I’m a natural.” I prepared for the next shot but missed.

  “But not humble.” He leaned over the table, his back perfectly straight and etched with muscle. His thick arms stabilized the shot before he struck. Two stripes went into the same pocket. “Now, I’m a natural, but I’m not going to say it.”

  “You just did.”

  “No. I showed I’m a natural. Big difference.” He moved to a different spot on the table and prepared for the shot. He was right beside me, so when he was about to hit the ball, I tickled him in the side.

  His stick veered off to the right, and he knocked the cue ball forward, missing all the other balls. He laughed then jumped away. “Someone’s a sore loser…”

  “I’m just making it more challenging for you. You know, since you’re so good.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll make it challenging for you.” He gripped his pool stick by his side with a threatening look in his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  I walked around the table and tried to figure out what shot I was taking next.

  Volt remained on the other side, trouble written all over his face. His dark eyes hinted at his mischievous nature, and the slight smile on his lips was even more threatening.

  “You better not come over here.”

  He held the pool stick in one hand and shoved his other hand into his pocket, but his fake hostility didn’t diminish.

  I finally found a shot I wanted to take, and the second I set up, he made his move. “Touch me and you die.”

  His fingers moved into my ribs, and he tickled me fiercely.

  I laughed and got the attention of everyone else in the bar. I dropped my pool stick because I was frantically trying to get away. “Let me go.”

  “Tell me I’m the pool king.”

  “What?” I said as he continued to ti
ckle me.

  “I’m the pool king—say it.”

  “That doesn’t even sound cool.”

  He tickled me harder. “Say it.”

  “Fine. You’re the pool king.” And I lost all self-respect for myself for saying it.

  “Good girl.” He patted my rear then stepped up to the table to take a shot.

  “Hey, it’s my turn.”

  “Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

  “I always notice when someone’s trying to take me for a ride.” I lined up the shot and felt my shooting star earrings swing from my lobes. I kept the shot stabilized as I jabbed the stick into the cue ball. But I didn’t sink any of the others.

  “Tsk…tsk. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re playing with a master, after all.”

  I wanted to chuck the cue ball right at his face.

  “So, what are you and Natalie doing at The Lion and The Spider?” He gave me a teasing grin, taking another jab right after the previous one.

  “We’re going to find some hot dates.”

  He lined up his shot then sank another ball. “What did I tell you? You aren’t going to find a good guy in a bar.”

  “Says who?”

  “Anyone with a brain. Men only go to bars because they know they can pick up women for a fun night. Trust me, I know about this stuff.”

  “You can’t make that assumption for all men.”

  “Yes, I can.” He took another turn but missed.

  When it was my turn, I stepped up to the plate. “You can’t make a generalization like that. I’m sure there are tons of men who go out every night hoping to find a woman they can have a meaningful relationship with.”

  His only reaction was a laugh. “Maybe in a Disney movie.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Every guy is looking for an easy lay. And if you aren’t an easy lay, they’ll pass you by.”

  I didn’t believe that. I refused to believe that.

  “I’ll take you out and give you some help.”

  “What?” I blurted.

  “I’ll go out with you to the bars, and I’ll find you a good guy. But I’ll also prove my point that there aren’t any.”

  “I can get my own dates. But thanks.”

  “Come on,” he said. “You can pick out a girl for me.”

  “Eww,” I said. “I’m not picking your sex buddy.”