Shutout: Rules of the Game Book 2
Shutout: Chapter 15

SERAPHINA

After a night of sleeping next to Tyler with zero release, my vibrating Sonicare toothbrush is starting to look more tempting than it should.

Shaking off the thought, I lean over the bathroom counter to examine my face in the mirror. I don’t look as rough as I expected. Not great, but not like someone who had to be rescued from a bathroom at a party after a series of poor decisions.

The aftermath of last night’s events becomes more evident as I run through my skincare routine. My skin is drier than the Sahara, thirstily soaking up layers of serum and moisturizer almost instantly. I dab some Aquaphor on the worst spots for good measure before moving on to brush my teeth. The sooner I banish my morning breath, the better.

Midway through brushing, there’s a soft knock on the bathroom door. “Ser?”

I open the door with my free hand to replace a rumpled, half-awake Tyler. My heart flutters, and a rush of giddiness courses through me. At some point during the night, he must’ve gotten hot and taken off his shirt. Now he’s got this sexy-cute thing going on, all tattoos and bedhead.

He ducks his head to catch my eye. “How are you feeling, Tink?”

“Pretty good,” I mumble, giving him a thumbs up with my toothbrush still in my mouth. Despite what happened last night, I feel relatively normal this morning. No worse than a normal hangover, at least.

Wildly confused about what the two of us are doing, however.

Did I embarrass myself in front of him last night? Turn him off forever? I think I remember most of what happened, but I can’t be sure there aren’t any key, humiliating details I’ve conveniently forgotten. If taking off my dress was the worst thing I did, I can live with that. It doesn’t seem fatal.

“Mind if I…?” He points to his toothbrush on the counter, raising his eyebrows. When I nod, he squeezes past me and his palm presses to my lower back. My stomach flutters with butterflies but to my dismay, he doesn’t let it linger.

My toothbrush vibrates in my hand, telling me it’s time to switch sides as he grabs his off the counter, wetting it beneath the tap before dabbing a pearl of blue gel on top. Brushing our teeth together feels oddly domestic. I like it more than I should.

The timer goes off, and I set the handle back on its base to charge. “Did I wake you?”

“Kinda.” The word is muffled by his blue toothbrush.

“Sorry. Like I said, I can’t sleep in.”

He waves me off, leaning over the sink to spit. “All good. Bed just felt a little empty suddenly, that’s all.”

Hearing that does something to me it shouldn’t.

When I step back into his room, my heart sinks at the knowledge I should sneak upstairs while I still can. No one else is awake yet and it’s the perfect opportunity. Even knowing that, I can’t bring myself to leave. Tyler and I have been in this cozy little bubble since we got home last night, and once it ends, I’m scared things will never be the same between us again.

Instead, I waste time gathering my shoes, my dress, and a few items that spilled out of my clutch onto his desk. Best not to leave evidence behind. Not that anything happened.

I don’t know what’s holding him back—whether he won’t make a move because of Chase or if there’s something else I’m missing. I could give him a pass for last night, but he’d had other opportunities and still… nothing. It’s frustrating as hell. I can only throw myself at him so much before giving up.

Tyler returns a moment later and lowers to sit on the edge of the bed. Every inch of his body looks like it was carved from marble, from his chiseled upper body to the curved obliques disappearing beneath the waistband of his black athletic shorts.

Setting my things in a heap on his desk chair, I draw in a breath and summon the courage to give it one last ditch effort. At least this way, I’ll know for sure.

I come to stand before him, painfully aware of how little I’m wearing. I’m not shy—but right now, I feel naked in more ways than one.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask softly.

Tenderness gleams in his gray eyes as he looks up at me. “Why would I be mad at you?”

Why won’t you kiss me?

Swallowing the words I want to say, I settle on something else.

“I thought maybe I ruined your plans last night.”

My breath catches as his warm, calloused palms wrap around the backs of my thighs, gripping just below where his borrowed T-shirt ends.

“No, Ser. I’m glad you called. And when you’re ready to tell me what happened before you went out last night, I’m here to listen.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, placing my hands on his broad shoulders. “For everything.”

Electricity thrums between us as the energy in the room shifts.

His gaze darkens, blazing a heated path down my body before lifting to meet mine, and his lips tug. “I like you in my shirt.”

Taking the hem in his hands, he gently tugs me closer. It’s subtle, more of a question than a demand, but I don’t need much encouragement.

Suddenly, we’re face to face and I’m straddling him with my bare legs bracketing his. He’s solid beneath me, a frame of firm muscle and taut skin. I could spend all day mapping every single inch, committing each ridge and indentation to memory.

When our eyes lock, I feel high all over again.

“Guess I’m the one who owes you now, huh?” My words are breathy.

“We don’t need to keep track,” Tyler murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. He scans my face, and I lean into his touch as he caresses my cheek. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

At that, my heart stutters. “Even first thing in the morning?”

“Especially first thing in the morning.”

Almost as if it’s subconscious, his fingertips slip under the hem of my shirt and his rough palm claims my hip. My pulse races as his thumb dips beneath the waistband of my panties, stroking my lower stomach. There’s an insistent throb between my thighs that only he can satisfy, and I’m so wet I’m sure he can feel it through the fabric separating us.

Our lips hover mere inches apart, warm breath and mint toothpaste mingling. Nothing else exists in this moment. The house could burn down around us, and I wouldn’t even care.

His nose brushes mine, and his eyelids hood. “This is dangerous, Tink.”

“Why?” I whisper.

“I don’t know if I can keep myself in check.”

“So don’t.”

One hand slides up to the back of my neck, and his mouth captures mine, soft and firm and perfect. Sparks shoot down my spine, a whimper escaping the back of my throat. His hold on me tightens and he lets out a low, impatient growl as his tongue glides along the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. Whatever was holding him back before has vanished; this is the same strong, dominant guy who fucked me senseless in a nightclub bathroom.

My lips part, yielding to him as he threads his fingers in my hair and angles my face. When his tongue brushes mine, we both groan, needily grasping at one another. Now I remember how we ended up with me on the counter and his cock buried inside of me. One kiss, and I’m completely under his spell. I’d let him do anything he wanted right now.

Heat floods my body as he nips at my neck. It’s followed by a trail of searing open-mouthed kisses before his teeth sink into my skin again, hard enough to leave a mark this time. Between the friction between our bodies and the skill of his lips, it’s pleasure overload. I whimper, my nails clawing at his back. He’s going to make me come, and he hasn’t even taken my clothes off.

“Ser,” he rasps against my throat. “I’ve waited months to hear you make those sounds.”

And I’ve waited months for him to touch me again.

Strong hands dig into my waist with a crushing grip. I rock against him again, hungry and frantic with need, reveling in the way he hardens even more.

An appreciative sound rumbles in his chest. “Are you going to come for me like a good girl?”

“Uh-huh,” I cry into his mouth.

Our kiss grows wetter, sloppier as I reach the point of no return. I swivel my hips, chasing the release I desperately crave. When he thrusts up to meet me, euphoria sparks in my core, and my vision tunnels.

My head tips back, my lips parting on a gasp. “Oh, god. Tyler, I—”

Suddenly, the doorbell rings upstairs and we startle, jolting apart. Every part of my body protests at the abrupt loss of stimulation. I’m breathless and fevered, literally aching to come.

Is it possible to die from being edged? It feels like a legitimate possibility at the moment.

Tyler glances up at the ceiling, his brows drawn together. “Who the fuck would be here this early?”

“I think I might have an idea.” But I sincerely hope I’m wrong.

He releases me and I scramble off his lap to open his bedroom door, poking my head out to hear what’s happening upstairs. Blood roars in my ears as I listen, trying to catch my breath. Footfalls sound, followed by hinges creaking open.

“Hi!” Abby’s muffled voice travels through the floor above. “Is Sera awake yet?”

“Fuuuuck.” Tyler falls back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. His position draws attention to the very large, very angry erection straining to break free from his black boxer briefs. Desire pulses like a heartbeat between my thighs. The temptation to finish what we started is almost too much to resist.

“You tell me. I thought she was with you.” Chase says to Abby, his voice flat.

“Oh. Um, can you check her room, maybe?”

Shit. She’s going to blow my cover.

He pulls himself upright onto one elbow. “It’ll be okay, Ser. Just stick to the plan like we discussed. Go upstairs and act like everything is normal.”

“Plan,” I repeat. “Normal. Right.”

Except under our original plan, I wasn’t interrupted in the middle of an orgasm and completely discombobulated.

I run to his nightstand and grab my cell, frantically composing a message.

Sera: Just got out of the shower. Give me a sec and I’ll be right up.

Abby: No prob.

Bolting for the bathroom, I strip out of Tyler’s shirt and quickly tug on my white terrycloth robe, tying it at the waist. What I really need is a pair of clean underwear because mine are drenched, but beggars can’t be choosers. At this point I’ll settle for not getting caught.

Then I put my hair up, splash some water on my face to emulate a freshly showered look, and pray as I climb the stairs.

They’re both standing in the entry waiting for me as I step upstairs.

“Sorry,” I tell Chase. “I was getting out of the shower when I heard the doorbell, and I couldn’t dry off in time.”

“No worries, Sera.” His attention swivels to Abby, and irritation flashes across his face. “Just text her next time instead, Abby. Don’t ring the fucking doorbell. I know you might not relate, but some of us have actual lives and responsibilities and need our sleep.”

It’s a little harsh, but I can’t fault him for being annoyed. Sometimes, it seems like her thought process is either focused solely on herself or entirely non-existent.

“Sorry,” she says, but it rings insincere.

I jerk my thumb at the hall leading to my room, then gesture to myself. “I’m not decent. Let’s go into my room so I can finish getting dressed.”

“I brought you an apology coffee.” She offers me one of the cups from the cardboard tray. I take it from her hand, noting that it’s not decaf. Mixing this with my meds will launch me to the moon. But it’s the thought that counts… I guess.

“Thanks.”

Chase’s eyebrows lift. Not only is he nosy, but he also never misses a thing. “Apology for what?”

I cut in before Abby can respond. “Oh, we had a silly little argument last night. Nothing major. You know, girl stuff.”

Girl stuff? I don’t make any sense right now. Hopefully he’s too tired to notice.

“Right. Whatever.” He stomps back upstairs muttering something beneath his breath. I don’t love that he’ll be crabby with me for a while, but it’s still better than the alternative of being found out.

Head spinning, I usher Abby into my room and close the door behind her. I’m still kind of pissed at her, but also trying to process everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. I almost can’t decide how upset I should be. Shouldn’t I be able to look out for myself?

Abby flops onto my bed, giving me an expectant look. “What’s going on, missy?”

For once in her life, she’s actually whispering.

“Nothing,” I hiss back.

Rifling through my drawers, I search for something to wear. I still haven’t fully unpacked, and I can’t replace a single thing lately. I’m drowning in clothes—and I have a few more deliveries on the way. I should declare a shopping hiatus. Will I? Probably not.

“Bullshit. You left with Hades. Something had to have happened.”

“I left because I wasn’t feeling good, Abbs. Tyler wouldn’t take advantage of me like that.”

“If you say so…” She purses her lips, studying me. Then her green eyes fly open with sudden realization. “Wait. Something happened with you two this morning.”

How does she know that? Oh my god. Is it written on my face? Does Chase know?

“Shh!” I hush her. Not only do I not want my brother to hear, but there’s also a tiny part of me that doesn’t fully trust Abby with this information. I can’t explain it; she’s supposed to be one of my best friends. I’ve known her since we were little.

Lately, there’s this nagging friction between us that she doesn’t seem to notice. It’s not clear whether she’s changed, or I have. Maybe we’re just growing apart. But who does that leave me with? I hardly know anyone here. Siobhan and Bailey are lovely, but maybe they feel obligated to hang out with me as part of some girlfriendly duty.

“Did you guys fuck?”

“No. You interrupted us.” Much to my dismay. A tiny part of me was worried I’d built Tyler up too much in my head. That time and imagination had distorted my memory of our night together, twisting reality into some kind of impossible fantasy. That the real thing couldn’t possibly live up to what I remembered.

I was wrong. It’s so much better.

Abby grimaces. “Oops.”

Turning away, I step into some clean underwear, then put on a matching pink bra. It seems wrong to get dressed before I’ve even showered but I can’t even begin to think about going back downstairs and seeing Tyler after what just happened.

“And you almost busted me with Chase,” I add, slipping a tank top over my head. “Just text next time, Abbs.”

“You’re not going to get a boyfriend and turn boring on me, are you?”

Excuse me?

Tugging on a pair of yoga pants, I glance up at her. “Why would a boyfriend make me boring?” There’s an edge to my tone I can’t hide.

She lifts a shoulder. “Because then you won’t want to go out and do fun things anymore.”

“Last night wasn’t exactly fun for me. Where were you, anyway?”

What upsets me most of all about this scenario is that I would never do the same to her. In fact, I’ve taken care of Abby countless times, both back in high school as well as when I came back home for visits in college.

“I was in the living room the whole time. I would’ve helped you if I had known. I’m sure it would’ve passed quickly if you waited it out.”

I’m not so sure that the first part is true. Abby isn’t exactly the nurturing type. She might have patted my back for a minute, but would she have really stayed with me until I calmed down? Either way, there’s no chance I could’ve stayed at the party. Between the lights, the music, and the people, it was complete sensory overload.

Shame seeps into the pit of my stomach. Why did I do that, anyway? I’ve never taken hard drugs before. In the moment, I’d been overwhelmed by everything that had happened at the doctor. Fear, grief, sadness, anxiety. It was too much; all I wanted was for it to stop.

In retrospect, it seems like such an irresponsible choice.

Does Tyler think less of me now? Ugh. I always screw things up.

“I need to cut back on going out anyway, Abbs. I have to pick a major ASAP and I need to make sure my grades stay up.” Although this is a legitimate concern, it isn’t the only reason. I’m more than a little annoyed with her after last night. And if that’s an average weekend outing for Abby, I’m not sure we’ll be hanging out much.

“Psh.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Who cares about all that? Just get an M-R-S degree.”

“M-R-S?”

“Yeah,” she says. “A Mrs. degree. A.k.a., marry rich.”

I groan. “Abby…”

“What? That’s my plan.” Abby tips back her coffee. “I guess it’s different when you already have lots of money like you do. You can become a sugar mama and have a rotation of hot pool boys.”

While that idea might appeal to her, it sounds highly depressing to me. My father left me an inheritance to ensure I would be financially stable and could pursue my dreams, not loaf around and pay hot younger men for sexual favors.

Thinking about the future brings me back to what happened at the doctor’s office yesterday. My stomach sinks to the floor. What if the test comes back positive? I’m sure that would be a great icebreaker on dates.

“By the way, I’m nearly guaranteed to develop cancer, and I need to have children sooner than later.”

No pressure there, right?

I hate that I have to think about this right now. I hate that Mom is sick in the first place.

All the emotions from yesterday start to well up again. I draw in a breath, holding it for a beat before I exhale slowly, counting to five inside my head. It doesn’t help. My entire body is brimming with anxiety, threatening to overflow.

Clearing my throat, I paste on a neutral expression as I work to conceal the turmoil inside. “I hate to kick you out, Abbs, but I have a ton of schoolwork to do.”

She makes a face. “What? It’s not even noon.”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Super swamped.” In truth, none of my assignments should take overly long. I need some time by myself to process everything. Or try to, at least.

Once I escort a protesting Abby out the door, I go back into my room and lock myself inside. A sigh of relief slips through my lips. She seemed more than a little miffed, but I don’t particularly care.

Instead of feeling better like I expected, my thoughts grow a thousand times more upsetting the moment I’m alone. The doctor. My mom. BRCA. Tyler. School. Picking a major. Everything circles in my brain as my mind races, panic ramping up a notch. I’m on the verge of having an epic meltdown. Whether that’s another anxiety attack or crying or something else, I can’t be sure. Maybe all of the above.

Grabbing my noise-canceling headphones, I sit crisscross on my bed and pull out my MacBook. Then I start to free write, channeling everything onto the page. At first, it dredges up everything I’m trying to hide from, and I feel a thousand times worse, but with more time and more words, I slowly start to feel better. Not happy—but lighter, at least.

My calendar pops up at the bottom of my page reminding me about my creative writing assignment due tomorrow. Normally, I wouldn’t start on this for another few hours. I put the “pro” in “procrastination”, and I work best under pressure. Since I need the distraction, I retrieve my textbook and read the first two chapters as assigned. Then I submit a response paragraph including my “Writer’s Purpose Statement” to the online forum for class discussion.

An iMessage notification appears on-screen from Tyler.

Hades: Grabbed you breakfast. I knocked but you didn’t answer. Wasn’t sure if you were sleeping.

Tinker Bell: Sorry, I didn’t hear it.

Hades: I’m at your door.

I practically pole-vault off the bed, then catch myself and realize I’m being overly eager. Relax, Sera. You saw the guy like an hour ago.

When I pull open the door, Tyler is standing there with a latte in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. My stomach does a twirl. Then it hits me that I’m still unshowered, but too late now. I’ll get on that next.

His mouth lifts at one corner. “Strawberry muffin. I thought you should eat. And since it’s decaf, I figured you can never have too much coffee.”

“Thank you.” The bag crinkles as I take it from him, then the coffee. Tension crackles between us, the byproduct of unresolved desires and unspoken questions.

“Ty!” Dallas calls in the background. “I’m leaving without you if you don’t get in the fucking car.”

“Gotta go. We have dryland. I’ll text you later.” He winks at me, and a tiny thrill runs through my body.

“Sounds good.”

The past twenty-four hours have been some of the best and worst of my life.