Brooke Bait Read online

  Brooke Bait

  By Melanie Marks and Rachel Kiss

  Copyright 2016 Melanie Marks

  Copyright 2016 Rachel Kiss

  Cover Image © Annette Shaff | Shutterstock.com

  All Rights Reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Brooke Bait

  Spin The Bottle

  List of dollar books

  Note: Melanie Marks’ newest book is: Jane’s Air

  (It’s available now)

  Melanie Marks Two Newest Books:

  Jane’s Air

  Please Love Me Back

  Jane’s Air

  Seventeen year-old Jane becomes an orphan and is pawned off by her aunt to work (and live) at the home (slash mansion) of the most handsome boy at Jane’s high school—Hunter Rochester. Hunter takes Jane’s breath away. But the handsome flirt is a mystery to Jane. Why did he persuade his mother to hire Jane to care for his little brother? And what other secrets is he keeping? (Jane has a secret of her own: she’s fallen hard for mysterious Hunter Rochester.)

  (Jane’s Air is available now)

  PLEASE LOVE ME BACK

  Seventeen year-old Shane Shade has it bad for his enemy’s girlfriend, Bethany. Maaaan. He’d rather bash his head through a window than deal with these feelings. Love?? Are you kidding me? What the—??

  **BETHANY: Shane Shade? He’s known as “The Shade” to his hockey teammates. But to me he’s known as the guy that beats up my boyfriend. Okay, not going to lie: He’s hot. But dangerous—on the ice and to my heart.

  So why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why?? Okay, okay I guess it’s because he’s helped me out a couple of thousand times. (Secretly, he’s astonishingly sweet.) But he’s trouble. Even he admits that. So, again I ask—WHY can’t I stop thinking about him? Why?!

  (Please Love Me Back is available now.)

  Brooke Bait

  CHAPTER 1

  As I’m leaving my therapist’s office, a girl slides into the elevator just as the doors are closing.

  I blink when I see her, as it’s the girl I’d just been spilling my guts to my therapist about. So this is kind of ironic. A little bit.

  The girl’s name is Renee. She uses the ice-skating rink right after my hockey practice. So, needless to say, I stick around a loooong time after my practices, watching her do fancy twirls and stuff. Sometimes she wears these slinking little ice-skating outfits. I’m a fan.

  She turns pink when she sees me eying her as she hits the same button I just pressed on the elevator panel.

  “I have panic attacks,” she blurts out, like she needs an excuse for just leaving the therapy floor of the building we’re in.

  To make her more comfortable, I feel compelled to do the same—give an excuse. “I have an aversion to confined spaces,” I tell her with a weak (ironic) smile. You know, due to the circumstances we’re under—the confined space of an elevator.

  The irony is not lost on her. She smiles sympathetically. “Oh, that’s got to be tough right at this moment.”

  Not as tough as she might think. She’s making this confined space rather delightful. Best confined space I’ve ever been in, actually.

  Man, she smells good. She sits in front of me in English class, and I can hardly contain myself. Of course, her boyfriend sits right next to her, so I contain away. But in my fantasies?—no containment. (Or boyfriend.)

  Dementedly, every girl I hook-up with recently has a slight resemblance to Renee. (I mention I see a therapist, right?)

  Hey, wouldn’t it be awesome if really she’d been secretly talking about me to her therapist too? That would be ironic. But really it’s delusional of me to even dream about this being the case. Thus, the therapist, I suppose. I’m prone to delusional thinking. Well, more I’m prone to not giving a crap about anything other than hockey, or so my mom footing the bill for my college tuition thinks. (She also doesn’t like me liking girls, but I’m pretty sure she’s aware by now that the therapist can’t help with that annoyance—still, she pays for the therapy secessions, probably secretly hoping.) But whatever. I get to spill my guts out about my obsession with ice-skating Renee on her dime. So score.

  The elevator doors open all too soon, then Renee’s wad boyfriend is on top of her, practically. He was waiting for her on the bottom floor. Now he’s dragging her away from me, saying they are going to be late. He’s the star of our university’s basketball team.

  I dislike him.

  Immensely.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Blake,” I freeze as my name is called. The voice is female, so I know it’s not one of my teammates. However, that still leaves a lot of people it could be. I turn curiously.

  Oh, Julia.

  I should have kept walking.

  In fact, I do. I turn around and keep going.

  She makes a huff noise and runs to catch up to me.

  “Don’t avoid me,” she insists with a little laugh. “I need help with my math. But I’ll pay you. You’re a tutor, right?”

  I give her a wary look. “I am. But I want actual money for payment.”

  Knowing her, she’ll try to get away with wearing something skimpy for payment, and drive me wild with flirty innuendos, get me all worked up, then promptly make out with a giant guy right in front of me. I’ve known her since middle school. Actually, I had my first experiences with her—I mean, as far as actually getting to “experience” stuff. We were way too young for it, but she let me do it—so I did it. And I enjoyed it. She did too, I think. Yet she was really popular, and afterwards she immediately went cold on me. The very next day she started dating some rich, popular guy at our school. After that, she would never talk to me, and would act like I was bugging her if I tried talking to her. So, I stopped trying. But that seemed to bug her too. Basically, the chick is crazy, I’ve surmised. Very hot and cold.

  Even now.

  To this day.

  Only she’s really beautiful (she looks like Renee), so I put up with a lot from her. I’m weak! But I’ve been working on not being such a sap with hot girls. However, I’m a sucker for soft lips and a curvy body. Which Julia has. In spades.

  Why is it that the crazy chicks are always beautiful? It gets me in a lot of trouble. I know this. So, I would totally turn her down. I would. I swear. Only she is roommates with beautiful ice-skating Renee. And I’d really like to see Renee again. As, you know, I have this crazy obsession with her at the moment—and I just saw her in the elevator less than an hour ago, so I’m highly craving another tight confinement with her. Rather intoxicated by the thought, actually. Of being in the same room with her—where she sleeps. Mmmm.

  So, I find myself giving into Julia. However, with some conditions. “I’ll meet you in your dorm room, at seven. And it will be twenty bucks. Pay me now if you have it on you.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I’m in Julia’s room. Alone with her, unfortunately. We’ve been working on her math about five minutes now. But all the sudden, I hear some sort of stringed-instrument coming from her bathroom.

  I look at the closed door curiously. “What’s going on in there?”

  Julia rolls her eyes. “It’s Renee. She’s teaching herself to play the ukulele—via the Internet.”

  That has to be the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, yet I just say, “Hmm.”

  Julia rolls her eyes again. “She seems to think if I don’t see her, I can’t hear her. So, she mostly only does it in the bathroom.”

  Too bad. I’d like to see this ukulele lesson in action. In fact, I’d pay for it.

  I find myself peeking longingly at the bathroom door the whole time I’m helping Julia, though Julia is being highly flirty—and she’s already paid me the twenty bucks, so I guess the excuses to shove her cleavage in my face is just a b
onus. One I appreciate, of course. Yet really I’d rather see the ukulele lesson.

  Finally Renee comes out of the closet—er, I mean bathroom.

  Her eyes spark with surprise when she sees me. I like to think they “light up.” But I could be wrong. I mean, I see a therapist.

  “Long time no see,” she says with a little smile.

  This makes Julia frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, we ran into each other in the elevator today,” Renee explains, maybe a little bewildered why Julia seems to be belligerent about the fact we know each other—slightly, but I know why. Julia is very territorial. (And, you know—crazy.)

  “Where?” Julia asks, still seeming unduly suspicious/ferocious about it—us running into each other.

  “Um …” Renee’s eyes skirt to me really quick, like she’s not sure if she should divulge the information to Julia that I see a counselor—or, perhaps, that she, herself, (Renee), does as well.

  Renee quickly gushes out a lie, “Um, at school. I forget which building. I’ve had such a day—so much schoolwork,” she says, flopping on her bed as she says it with a schoolbook open, like she has so much schoolwork to do she doesn’t have time to carry on this conversation anymore.

  Cute maneuver.

  Sadly, her eyes stay on her book. Guess she really does have schoolwork. However, her book is upside down. It takes her a while to notice—I notice. But she discreetly turns it around without making a peep, then continues to stare at it like she’d actually meant to have it upside down while it was. The only clue I have that it isn’t the case is that she’s pretty pink. But her eyes stay on the book. And now she’s taking notes. So hmm.

  The thing is though, she’s wearing shorts. And she’s lying on her bed. So, I’m having trouble focusing on anything but that.

  After a while I get caught staring at her legs. Busted.

  “Um, I’m going to go,” I tell Julia really quick, jumping off her bed like it’s on fire.

  “What!?” Julia blinks up at me in protest. “But I’m not done showing you my boobs.”

  (Okay, she doesn’t actually say the last four words of that sentence.)

  I grunt. “You seem to have a pretty firm grip on it, and I’m late for a date, so …” I say all this as I’m packing up my stuff. I can feel Renee’s eyes on me though, so who knows what I’m actually saying. Words are just coming out of my mouth.

  Julie starts to protest, “But—”

  “Here’s half your money back.” I throw her a ten, though I’ve been here over an hour, and I get paid twenty bucks an hour (or more if it’s a guy) but I’m not going to quibble, even though I need the money. I mean I got to see her boobs—numerous times. So we’re square. Besides, I need out of the door. Right. Now. (I told you I’m seeing a therapist, right?) (I have issues.)

  As I’m slogging out of the building, Renee comes chasing after me. “Blake,” she calls.

  I freeze at her sweet voice, a thrill going through me. She followed me out. She liked my eyes on her.

  When I turn back to her she says shyly, “I really liked your poem in English class.”

  I tilt my head, eyeing her with a smirk (possibly). “Did you really come chasing me out here to talk to me about English class?”

  She reddens. Then stammers, “Well, I mean, I was—” she drops her books as she says this clever stuff.

  I help her pick them up, but she yelps and drops them again as I try to hand them to her.

  “Take it easy,” I whisper to her, like she’s a wild colt that spooks easy. Which she seems to be.

  But right as I’m calming her down, her wad boyfriend is over us. (He really is a wad, by the way. It’s not just sour grapes on my part—though I’ll admit I have those towards the guy. But I’ve also seen him cheating on Renee two different times. So, you know, he’s a major wad. But I digress.)

  Wad helps Renee with her books, sporting a grin. “I don’t get how you can be so graceful on the ice, yet a total klutz on solid ground,” he tells her teasingly.

  She reddens with a cute little laugh, giving me a tiny peek. “I was just caught off guard,” she says.

  I tilt my head. Caught off guard by me?

  But her boyfriend doesn’t have time to hear about it. He takes her hand and tears her away from me again saying, “Come on Renee, we’re going to be late.”

  I stand in the hallway watching him lead her away from me. But she gives me a tiny peek over her shoulder as she’s whisked away.

  She seems surprised and “off-guard” that I’m still watching her.

  But she quickly looks the other way.

  And then she’s gone.

  With her boyfriend.

  As usual.

  CHAPTER 4

  All that stuff with Renee happened over a month ago. Since then I moved to another state. Literally. I’m living in Connecticut for the semester, doing my computer internship at this company that actually wants to hire me as soon as I graduate. May take them up on it. May not. We’ll see. But I’m actually considering it when I get a text from my friend, Griffin Piper, asking me if I hooked-up with Renee. “’Cause the hot chick is telling people that,” he says.

  I stare at his words, my heart pounding, not sure what to say. Finally, I type: “Well, if she’s telling people that, then …”

  I let it trail off, trying not to have to give any sort of definitive. Since I don’t have a definitive. Well, actually I have one—but I don’t want to give it if the chick is the one spreading the lies, which my true trusted friend, Griffin, just said she is. I don’t exactly want to expose her. I mean, if she has some sort of fantasy she’s spreading around. For whatever reason. (Did I mention my heart is pounding?) It’s about to explode.

  But Griffin doesn’t let it end there. Of Course. He presses, “—then what? It’s true?”

  “If she says so—I guess.”

  “So it’s true?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny, dude. Due to the code.”

  That ends up being my answer to a lot of people. Did the chick just assume that I fell off the planet?—cut all ties to everybody from our school? Does she not realize I’m coming back?

  CHAPTER 5

  ***RENEE***

  RENEE

  Okay, I lied to my boyfriend about kissing Blake. I don’t know how it happened. Philip (my boyfriend) was just kind of assuming that I’d been sitting around, waiting for him while we were on a “break.” You know, a relationship-break. And I’ll admit, I did just sit around, in knots, sad and miserable, hoping he’d come to his senses and stop being “restless” like he said he was feeling. That he would stop needing his “space.” So, when it finally happened, when he came back to me, and said he discovered he “can’t live without me” I was quite pleased. Of course. Until he teasingly said, “I’m sure you knew that would be the case—and sat around patiently waiting for me to come to my senses.”

  Well, he sure hadn’t been “sitting around.” He’d taken full advantage of our “space” and “break” and had pretty much taken it for granted that I’d be boring me, and simply wait it out, since he knew full well I wasn’t interested in any other guy. At all.

  … only there was this other person that was niggling around at the back of my brain, giving me strange fantasies, and keeping me breathless. Blake. It was her eyes. The way they were always on me.

  Mentioning her would surely shock Philip. And right at that moment, I wanted to shock him. I wanted to knock that smug smirk off his smug face so bad.

  So the lie just sort of spilled out of my mouth. “I hadn’t exactly just ‘sat around,’” I told him.

  Then I proceeded to tell him that I’d had a “fling” with Blake right before she left.

  I didn’t exactly know where Blake went. I just knew she was gone—transferred schools or graduated or something. Learning she was gone had made me feel … wistful. And longing. Totally sad that I would never get a chance to be bold and follow my steamy fantasies abo
ut her, and let her do to me what her hungry eyes seemed to crave to do to me. Mmmm. But suddenly, I lived those steamy fantasies (though only fictionally) as I told Philip the crazy bizarre lie—that I’d had a fling with the sexy girl that I had barely even knew.

  I will tell you this though—it knocked the smug smirk off Philip’s face. That’s for sure.

  CHAPTER 6

  ***BLAKE***

  BLAKE

  After a lot of deliberation, I texted Julia. It was not something I did lightly. But I didn’t have Renee’s phone number, and I didn’t have the willpower to wait it out, and just see what was up with Renee’s rumors once I got back to school. Also, you know, it might be too late by then. I mean, if Renee was wanting to make her lies become true. I was more than willing to do that. But first I had to know what was up. And I needed to know before the situation changed—before she found some other girl to work her fantasies on.

  But contacting Julia wasn’t something I was eager to do. Well, I was morbidly eager to do it, in a way. But it was a demented, masochistic kind of way. (I mentioned she was my first, right?) Firsts are touchy. Especially when your first is crazy. And hot. But I had no other way that I could think of to find out what was up with Renee.

  So after a lot of grimacing, and thumping my head on a table, and wall, I finally texted Julia.

  “Hey,” I wrote her. That was it.

  Then it turned into this big long thing about how she was missing me—and thinking about me all the time. And then she started planning this road trip, where she would come up and see me.

  I wrote, “Okay.” I mentioned I’m weak, right? Also, I was kind of lonely in Connecticut, and I’d heard Renee still had her boyfriend. I didn’t hear this from Julia, though. As she didn’t give me a chance to mention Renee yet before she started in with her sexy talk and what she wanted to do to me.