Side Game (Men of Trance Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Oasis

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  OTHER BOOKS BY NICOLE

  Men of Trance

  Got Mine

  Thizz Series

  Thizz, A Love Story

  Illusions of Ecstasy

  Lunam Series

  The Lunam Ceremony

  The Lunam Deception

  The Lunam Legacy

  Novellas

  The Excursion

  Anthology

  Cop Tales

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, whether living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  SIDE GAME

  Men of Trance, Book 2

  www.nicoleloufas.com

  Copyright © 2018 by Nicole Loufas

  All rights reserved.

  Except for the original material written by the author, all song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

  ISBN: 978-0-9964946-6-3

  Published by F-Bomb Publishing

  www.f-bombpublishing.com

  Oasis

  Six years ago

  Guys like me don’t wait in line.

  It doesn’t matter if I’m a few years shy of being here legally. My presence increases the worth and reputation of the club. Neon palm trees cast a green glow over a crowd of impeccably dressed patrons waiting to have their thirst quenched inside of Oasis. I roll past them with Cookie beside me. She is a life-size Brat doll—big hair, lips, and hips. Walking with her increases my worth exponentially.

  I hand the doorman my id, he pretends the twenty-five-year-old dork on the fake driver’s license is the same person standing four inches taller than him. He barely glances at Cookie’s fabricated identification.

  “Have a good night,” he says and opens the rope so we can enter.

  The bass drop hits as we walk in, announcing our arrival. It wasn’t planned, but when you look this good the world works in your favor.

  Industrial-sized fans whirl on opposite ends of an illuminated dance floor. An empty pool lies beneath the thick glass squares embedded into the ground. Oasis used to be a motel. Remnants of that time are littered around the club. Old sofas and desk chairs create make-shift lounge areas.

  Cookie pushes between two guys at the bar. One of them smiles and offers his seat hoping he has a chance. Cookie thanks him, then waves me over. The guy is a few inches shorter than me and about twenty pounds overweight. With a little help from his friend, he could probably take me down. This thought crosses my mind when I step beside Cookie and take the guys seat.

  “You’re going to get me killed,” I warn Cookie.

  “Dying in defense of my honor is a great way to go.” She kisses my cheek then waves the bartender over.

  Being here with Cookie diminishes my chances of getting laid. Never bring sand to the beach. But I don’t have a car and taking the bus to the club−not cool.

  I order two Captain and Cokes.

  “I don’t want to get drunk.” Cookie places a hand on her hip. “I’m driving.

  “It’s mostly coke,” I clarify. “Just have one.”

  Thankfully, Cookie is a cheap date. She hardly drinks and has a rule about eating in public. What little money I have is pilfered from my tuition account. Dad says college isn’t for fun, it’s for learning. Clearly, he’s never been. Every dime I spend in the club is one less meal I eat when I return to school. It’s worth it.

  Cookie takes a small sip of her drink, careful not to disturb her lipstick. “I’m going to dance.” she pushes away from the bar and walks away.

  Six dudes follow her to the dance floor. If I wanted, I could hit that. Cookie is beautiful, but her personality needs serious contouring.

  I finish my first drink then order another. The club isn’t fun unless you’re buzzed. I take my second drink upstairs. The view of the dancefloor is better from there. I can keep an eye on Cookie while I look for the reason I came here tonight. The reason I've come here for the last three nights.

  Her purple hair is easy to spot and just part of the reason she stands out in a crowd of hundreds. She’s like one of those porch lights that lure bugs to their death. You know she's dangerous but you can't stay away. People jockey for position around her. Waiting for their chance dance in her glow.

  Everyone but me.

  Watching from a distance isn’t my style, she isn’t my style, and I’m not hers. Cookie knows her from school and swears she’s strictly into females. This fact doesn’t prevent me from watching, fantasizing.

  Her eyes glance up to the second floor. I swear she looks right at me. I look away and find Cookie waving her arms to get my attention.

  “My drink?” she mouths.

  Shit, I left it on the bar. It’s probably been rufied by now. I head downstairs and order her another drink. I’ve already spent half the money in my pocket on two rounds. Even if Cookie didn’t drive, I’d be stuck paying for her drinks because I’m the guy. Somehow, men set precedence when it comes to buying drinks. It’d be nice if that philosophy worked both ways. I’m confident every woman standing at this bar would dance with me, possibly fuck me. Not one will open her Coach wallet and buy my drink.

  Someone places a hand on my shoulder, I turn ready to punch. I’m not cool with people touching me. Male or female. I’m a big proponent of personal space. The hand belongs to a guy I know from the gym.

  “S’up, Rico?” We bro hug.

  “Just chillin’.” Rico points at Cookie a few feet away. “Is she with you? I thought I saw you walk in together.”

  Of course you did.

  “No, we shared a ride.”

  Cookie stops pouting when she notices Rico checking her out.

  “Mind if I dance with her?”

  “Please, take her off my hands.” I give him Cookie’s fresh drink.

  “I owe, son.” Rico saunters towards Cookie and I’m off the hook.

  “Can I get a shot,” I yell to the bartender.

  “What do you want?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Whiskey?”

  “What kind?” He’s annoyed.

  “Makers Mark,” someone says. “Make it two.”

  It’s her. The purple-haired chick.

  “Hi.” She stands beside me with a crazy cool grin. “I’ve seen you here before.” She points upstairs. She’s noticed me watching her. “I’ve never seen you dance.”

  “I’m not a dancer.”

  “Then why come to a club?”

  “I guess I like the view.”

  Damn, that was smooth.

  She smiles in appreciation of my quick wit and my stomach tightens. I’ve never been thi
s close to her. She’s like a live wire, igniting everything around her.

  The bartender places the shots on the bar.

  “Eighteen.”

  I pull my wallet out and start counting the last of my dollars.

  “It’s on me.” She tosses a twenty on the bar.

  My chest does this weird thing where it gets tight and I feel like every hair on my arm is standing up.

  "Thanks."

  "My pleasure." She smiles. "What are we drinking to?"

  "You bought the drinks, you tell me."

  She processes for half a minute then lifts her shot.

  “May we get what we want, what we need, and never what we deserve.”

  I smile despite the corniness of her toast and touch my plastic shot glass to hers. I hesitate when the smell of the brown liquid hits my nose. She tosses hers back and I follow. For three seconds I’m sure it’s going to come back up and shoot all over her face.

  She drops her shot glass on the bar.

  “That was so bad.”

  “Why did you order it?”

  “I heard someone order it in a movie and I thought it would sound cool.”

  “It was cool,” I assure her as I grip the bar for support while my stomach decides what to do.

  “Except for the part where I almost puked on you.”

  She thumps her chest with her fist, then lets out a small burp. I look up incredulously and begin laughing.

  “Come on.” She tugs my arm. “I know a place with a way better view.”

  I follow her upstairs and onto the roof. The November air slaps me across the face. Not even alcohol can warm you in this cold. She skips ahead of me towards an old sofa. The brown material is ripped and stained. She plops down on it and pats the seat beside her.

  “Won’t your friends wonder where you are?” I carefully sit on the dirty cushion and imagine all the bodily fluids that have seeped into the material beneath my ass.

  “What friends?”

  “The people you came with.”

  “Who said I came with people?”

  “You always have a posse on the dancefloor.”

  She smirks. “I don’t know them. We’re just sharing space together. Enjoying the music.”

  She rolls solo, another check in the right box. I can get down with a woman who doesn’t need reinforcements.

  “Are you and Cookie a thing?”

  “No way.”

  “You’re not sticking your hand in her jar?”

  She’s funny. I like that.

  “We’re just friends.” I make myself crystal clear.

  She shivers and hugs herself. Normally, I’d ask if she were cold, slide my arm around her, and make my move. I get the feeling my moves won’t work on her.

  “How old are you?” I like that she's controlling the conversation.

  “Twenty-one. Obviously.”

  She leans away to get a better look at me. “Truth?”

  “I don’t know you well enough.”

  “To be honest?”

  “Honesty requires trust. I trust like two people.”

  “So, you lie to ninety-eight percent of the people you meet.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Apparently, you don’t plan on saying much.”

  I sound like an asshole. I don’t want to be that guy.

  “I’m eighteen for another eleven weeks.”

  Disclosing my age feels like peeling a layer of skin from my face.

  “Now was that hard?” Her mouth twists into a smile. “I just turned eighteen.”

  If I didn't know she graduated with Cookie, I would’ve guessed twenty. I like that she’s unreadable. I’m not sure where to classify her.

  A friend.

  A fuck.

  My future.

  “What are you thinking right now?” She nudges me with her elbow. “You look very serious.” She says the last bit in a baritone voice.

  “Just wondering what your story is.”

  And where I will fit into it.

  “Let’s see,” she sighs. “I just ended a two-year relationship but we’re still cool. I think it’s important to always remain friends.” She glows when she speaks, like a star. I’m a fucking goner. “How can you hate someone you loved? It makes zero sense to me.”

  “Are you friends will all your exes?” The jealous dude in me imagines a future where I have to play nice with her exes.

  “You can tell about a person by their past relationships.”

  “I only have one real ex and I’m pretty sure she has a bounty on my head.”

  She laughs like it’s a joke. “You don’t expect me to believe a guy like you has one ex?”

  “Commitment isn’t something I strive for when I meet a girl.”

  Until now.

  “Strictly F.W.B.” She doesn’t say this like it’s a bad thing.

  “Friends with benefits has its benefits.”

  “That is so me right now.”

  If she wants to keep it casual, I’m down. I’ll take whatever she wants to give.

  “I want to be selfish for a change. Enjoy my freedom while I can.”

  “Is your freedom in jeopardy?" I look at her concerned, like I'm sitting beside a felon.

  “Nothing like that.”

  The light surrounding her goes dark for a moment. I wonder how much of what she gives the world is a performance. I see a tiny bit of me in her. I’m the guy who gives fake names and phone numbers. The guy with two Facebook accounts. Playing baseball, going to college, everything that makes me who I am is done to please someone else. I want her to know I’m safe-zone. She can be herself around me.

  “I go to school up north. I’m home on break. Honestly, I don’t want to go back. I feel like it’s such a waste of time.”

  “It’s only a waste if you waste it.” She surveys my outfit, my shoes. “If I were you, I’d take full advantage of a free education.”

  She unfairly judges me based on my appearance. I want to be offended, but I’m not. She’s right. I have it easy, but my parents aren’t rich. They struggle to pay my tuition. A fact my father will never let me forget.

  “Do you go to school?”

  She sits back and looks at the sky. “I’m going to be all I can be.” The city lights prevent us from seeing the stars, even on a clear night.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and find a text.

  “Is it Cookie?”

  “It’s a dude who sells fake ID’s. He’s on his way so I can buy one for a friend of mine.”

  “I thought Cookie was giving you a fifteen-minute warning.” Her shoulder touches mine. “What happens if she decides to go home with someone? Will she let you drive her Mustang?”

  “How did you know Cookie drove?”

  “Uh, an educated guess?” She covers her face. “I might have asked Cookie about you.” She drops her hands. “Only because I’ve seen you watching me from your little perch.” She’s animated. “Technically, you’re the creepy one.”

  “I’m flattered.” My ego grows exponentially.

  “Quit acting like I’m the first girl to inquire about your status.”

  I don’t confirm or deny, that would be an asshole thing to do. I also don’t want her to think she’s on the level of any random chick.

  This girl is next level.

  “You’re the first to surprise me. I didn’t think you were into…”

  “Dudes?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m into people. Especially, ones with a smile like yours.”

  The compliment sounds like something I should say to her. The role reversal is a huge turn on. If I had a vagina, I’d be wet right now.

  “You dress the part of an asshole, no offense."

  "It's cool, I was going for asshole so you nailed it."

  She regards me for a second before continuing. She's impressed. Not with my clothes or game. She likes me and it surprises her. That makes two of us.

  "I can tell
you're really a sweetheart. That’s why I brought you up here. I knew it was safe. For me.” She leans in close, her hand on my thigh. Her lips inches from my mouth. “You’re the one who should be worried. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  She slips back into performance mode. The act is her safe-zone. It's also sexy as fuck.

  I want to grab her by the back of the head and pull her mouth to mine. Kissing will lead to fucking. I want more than a dirty romp on this roof. Then I’ll just be the guy she fucked on the roof of Oasis. That isn’t the story I want to write.

  “I’m not normally pursued,” I say in my sexy voice. “Usually I do the chasing."

  “And let me guess, I’m supposed to play hard to get?”

  She sits back, crosses her legs, and tries to look coy. Its sexy as hell. I rethink my previous declaration. My dick wants a vote. I deny him.

  “Not too hard to get.” I smile and take her hand.

  Her nails are painted blue. Everything about this girl is not my style. Cookie looks like the women I chase. Hair and boobs can only go so far. Blue nails are unpredictable.

  “I get a feeling there’s more to you than a pretty face.” That’s definitely a man’s line.

  She runs her hand down my cheek. I twist a strand of purple locks around my finger.

  “I guarantee there’s more to you than purple hair.”

  I sound like a tweeb.

  We sit in a silent checkmate a few seconds, contemplating our next moves. If she wants more, I’ll give it to her. I’ll give it to her so good.

  Of course she wants more. Look at you.

  She fingers graze the center of my palm like she’s searching for something.

  You know what she’s looking for.

  I lick my lips to satiate the desire to kiss her. This isn’t a hook up, if it were, she’d be riding me by now. I want to take things slow.

  “What are you thinking right now?” I beat her to the punch.

  A shy smile spreads across her face. She shrugs.

  “What’s that?” I mimic her.

  She contemplates so long I start to worry. I want to hit backspace on the keyboard until the question vanishes from the script.

  “Aside from you being male,” she starts. Her eyes remain on my palm, like she’s reading my future. “You aren’t the kind of person I would normally go for.”