The Gamble: A Novel (3 page)

“Damn.”

My eyebrows furrow. “Damn?”

“I love hanging out with Warren.”

Her answer causes me to brace my arms across my chest. “You don't love hanging out with me?”

“Meh.”

The reply causes me to kick her chair so she spins around to face me. “Meh?”

“Jealous?”

“Only if you're sucking his cock instead of mine.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I'm not. But I'd be more likely to suck his before yours.”

A hint of anger surges through my system. “Are you fucking kidding? Why?”

“You mean aside from the next generation version of the clap you're packing?”

The hint of mirth in her tone calms me back down.

For the record, I don't have any STD’s. But if I did, they wouldn't be some mutated version. Just regular old cure it with a shot of penicillin diseases.   

“You're not my type, Luca.”

“Bullshit. I'm everyone's type.”

“Exactly.” She gives me a lift of the eyebrows. “Now put those amazing abs into gear and go grab the company credit card, so I can start ordering supplies and booking our trips.”

I give her another crooked smile and do as requested.

She's right. I am everyone's type. It's a good thing. Makes it easy to keep my cock buried in pussy and want for nothing. I don't like the idea of wanting anything. Needing anyone. On the field, on the court, it's one thing. You have to rely on others. You have to work together. It's the combination of skills and execution of unity that makes a team a fucking team worth mentioning. But in the real world? I don't fucking need that. Wanting for too long makes you weak. Needing leaves room for someone or something to break you. My father made it clear from an early age to make use of what you're given, strive for what you want, and do not waste time getting it. And believe me, I won't.  

Alexxa

Flopping down on the dark suede couch beside Luca, I prop my legs on the matching coffee table, and tilt the beer to my lips.

This place is basically my second home. Sometimes I spend more time here than I do at my own apartment. It's got the basic bachelor brothers set up. Small open kitchen to the right as soon as you walk in, with a bar top for eating since the kitchen nook area on the opposite side is where opposing storage shelves are kept beside a Foosball table. Each of them have their own bedrooms again on opposite sides of the apartment. Luca has a bathroom connected to his master suite style and Warren has to stroll out to get to his, which is also the one any guests not over to fuck Luca are supposed to use. Except me. I can use either. Benefit of being friends with both.  

The cold liquid cools my throat. “Did you order pizza?”

Luca drops down, stretches his arms out around the back of the couch. “Yup.”

“What are we watching?” As he reaches for the remote I add, “And if you say that damn documentary about Le Bron James again, I swear, I fucking swear, I will go home and ground myself from coming for at least a week.”

“Why do you hate sports so much?”

“I don't. I just don't pop a boner every time someone shoots a three pointer.”

“At least you finally know what that is,” he chuckles and starts Netflix.

All of sudden the door opens and Warren's warm voice says, “Well what do we have here? Another LeBbron fest?”

“God no,” I groan and watch him stroll into the living room. “Hoping something with spies. Maybe a thriller.”

“You know, you don't need a reason to climb into my arms, Alexxa. They're open for you any time,” Luca says with a smirk.

I make a gag motion, scoot to the other end furthest from him, and sigh, “I'd rather climb Mount Everest.”

“You know most people who try to climb that actually die?” Warren questions from the opposite couch.

“My point exactly.”

Warren and I chuckle, but Luca snaps, “What are you doing home? I thought you were supposed to be working. They run out of food for you to serve?”

“Switched shifts.” His eyes meet mine. “I was actually hoping you'd be here tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Why's that?”

“Feels like I haven't seen you in weeks.”

His comment is accompanied with a wide grin and I hold back a swoon.

Warren Evans has to be the complete opposite of Luca to a tee, with the exception of their matching sculpted features. Both look like gym nuts, but Warren's build is slightly slimmer. Physically he screams frat dickhead. Blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. Unnecessary tribal band around his bicep. The trifecta of stereotypes. However, once you get past the urge to ask him how many beers he can chug back, which for the record is only two before he's tipsy like some sort of sixteen year old at their first party, he's actually quite nerdy. He's working on his Doctorate to be a child psychologist and would rather re-read War and Peace than hang out at the bar. We read a lot of the same books, outside of the romance genre, and share a love of independent foreign films. The fact we have a connection like that drives Luca insane. Just makes me love it more.

“If you two are done making nerd eyes at each other,” Luca grouses and grabs my attention. “Can we pick something to watch?”

I open my mouth to snap, but the words stop at the sight of him yanking off his sweaty tank top. My eyes helplessly drink in a view that honestly never gets old.

Built like he was dreamt up by a lonely woman who hasn't had sex since Justin Timberlake brought sexy back and reads romance novels like they're the bible. He's carved. Hard. And has the sort of smile that makes women want to just hand over their panties with their phone numbers scribbled on them. They typically do. It's almost unfair how delicious he is. The balance however, is the horrific shit he says at times. The very thing I love most about him. Unlike Warren who's all intellect, Luca is all instinct. Fuck first, care later. Drink until he can't drive then find a sober chick to take him home. He's all about what feels good now because consequences are irrelevant. To put it the way he does, he's focused on the game, not the season because you never know when an injury might put you out or if that move was your last play. In a weird way, I admire it. Even if it probably isn't the most responsible way to live, you can say one thing for sure. Luca is always living. Or playing. Whichever.

He waggles his eyebrows. “Do you need a closer look at something?”

Trying my best to snap myself out of the haze his half naked body has a tendency to put me in, I sigh, “You do know your camp shirt is gonna fuck with your tan lines.”

“I'll be fine. I tan naked.”

“It's a public apartment pool!”

“Point?”

See what I mean.

Disbelief causes me to shake my head. “I vote spy movie.”

“I second that.”

“Spy movie it is,” Luca mumbles and begins to scroll for one. As he starts his hunt he says, “You know we could go see The Water Room this weekend. It's a spy thriller.”

“It's a military movie that illustrates the horrors of water boarding,” Warren corrects.

Luca grumbles and brushes him off, “Military, spy, what the fuck ever.”

“Doctor, dentist, what the fuck ever,” he mocks him.

I hide my giggle.

“What do you think?” Luca turns to me with a questionable expression. “Wanna catch a movie this weekend?”

“Sure.” Turning to look at Warren I ask, “Wanna come?”

“I meant just the two of us,” he quickly adds. “Kinda like a date.”

My eyebrows dart down in confusion. “I don't...I don't understand. What is kinda like a date? Is that supposed to be a date? Because we don't date.”

Luca lands on a movie and turns to face me again. “We
could
date.”

“No, we couldn't.”

“We could.”

“No,” I insist harder. “We couldn't. One, you don't date. You fuck. You fuck like an ex- con fresh out of prison with an unlimited amount of cash for hookers and an insatiable appetite for an STD.”

Warren erupts into laughter, which is when Luca flips him off.

“
Second
, even if you did date,
I
would
never
date
you
. Not only because my self- respect and self- esteem are higher than my heels, but you're honestly not my type.”

He shifts in his seat. “You keep saying that, but I've never seen you with a boyfriend in the three years we've been friends, so are you trying to tell me your type is chicks? Because I can respect, and...I've had my fair share of women who enjoy other women.”

I roll my eyes. “So...because I don't wanna date you, I must be a lesbian?”

“Exactly.”

Leaning towards him I snip, “How about I would rather
be
a lesbian than date you?”

Warren laughs again loudly and Luca snaps, “She'll still probably see pussy before you.”

His laughter stops.

Yeah...His lack of getting any makes me wish I had more female friends to hook him up with.

Luca looks back at me with lifted eyebrows. “What's so bad about me?”

Flopping back against my side of the couch I ask, “Besides the obvious?”

He glares.

“I just don't feel that way about you. You're not the kind of guy I'd be into.”

“Because?”

“You're the kind of guy I wanna be friends with, not fall in love with. It's pretty simple.”

“I think it sounds simple too,” Warren agrees at the same time there's a knock on the door.

Instead of moving to answer the door, Luca continues to stare at me, an unusual emotion pumping through his blue eyes.

The knocking repeats and Warren says, “You gonna grab that or what?”

He hands me the remote. “Pick something.”

Without further eye contact, he gets up, and strolls towards the front door.

Unsure of what just happened and what the hurt yet intrigued look was all about, I try to focus on the shifted task.

Should I feel guilty for being honest? Isn't that what friends do? And in the years we've been hanging out he's never even been remotely upset by anything I've said or done. That's not the type of guy he is. Luca couldn't locate his heart with Google Maps and voice command directions, let alone muster up a nerve to give a fuck about something as simple as one girl not wanting to go out with him. Especially when the girl is me. I'm not his type either. I spend more money on books than shoes or make up, would rather play a drinking game at home than go out to a bar, and consider my relationship with Netflix the longest commitment I've ever had. Yeah. I'm talking back to the get it in the mail days. Why the hell would he be offended someone as boring as me wouldn't even consider someone as boisterous as him? Maybe he's just dude PMSing. I'm convinced that’s a thing.

Luca

I use the tip of my foot to push Warren's bedroom door open. He's in the middle of his bed, laptop open, fingers typing, most likely something for one of his papers.

I don't miss those days at all. The few business proposals I've had to type up recently I contemplated convincing someone else to do it for me in exchange for a ride on my cock. Decided against it. Following in my father's footsteps, I know the best way to run a successful company is to owe the least amount of favors, and collect as many as possible along the way.

My eyes skim around his organized and unusually clean room. From the bed where the sheets are military tucked when he's not in it, to the fact there's not a single item not tucked away on a shelf, in a drawer or crate, his room practically shouts haven't seen pussy this side of graduation.

Bet he can't even remember the last time someone even accidentally brushed up against his package.

“Dick breath,” I call to him.

He turns down the music a little. “How long have you been leering at me?”

“Long enough to understand why you're not getting laid.”

Warren gives me the finger, which makes me cock a smirk. “What do you want?”

“Just stopping by to tell you I've paid rent, including your half,” I sigh and fold my arms across my chest.

Warren tries not to smile. “Guess sleeping with Alexxa is harder than you thought?”

“No,” I correct. “I'm just going to have to take a different tactic.”

That fact alone annoys the fuck out of me. This should've been simple. This should've been over a couple weeks ago when this bet was initiated. A few flirty conversations, few sexual passes, and boom, we should've wound up in bed together. I should be staring at a metaphorical plaque for MVF, Most Valuable Fucker. Normally sitting a little closer or letting my eyes linger a little too long gets women heated and excited, something about the extra attention on them creates the illusion they're the one person I care about. For most chicks, it's enough. Feeling like a guy, any guy, only wants them whether it's for 10 minutes, 10 hours, or 10 fucking years, is something universal with women. Alexxa is different. She doesn't seem to care if any one notices her. She's doesn't seem to care if anyone wants her that way or not. She's oddly content simply existing. It's almost a mind fuck yet it's not. She's a bro without being a bro. The very thing I like about her is my biggest fucking problem. It's fine...I've got...time. Game's just started.

Warren sighs, “We can call the bet off right now, Luca. No hard feelings.”

“Afraid you're gonna lose?”

“No, asshole. It's just....it's Alexxa, ya know? She's our best
friend
and doesn't deserve this.”

“She'll still be our best friend after I fuck her.”

“Probably not. As soon as you fuck a girl she goes from person to sporting equipment. And, nine times out of ten, you don't see her for longer than three hour periods of time, most of which involve in some way shape or form your dick in one of her orifices.”

I smirk proudly.

He's got a valid point. Plus, they do get treated in a similar way. You wouldn't wear your football helmet to your soccer game any more than you would put on your cleats to play basketball. Different women for different moods.

“I like Alexxa, Luca. She's a great friend. We get along. We have fun together. We like a lot of the same shit-”

“Do
you
wanna fuck her?” Warren shuts his lips tightly igniting an unusual irritation in my chest. “Is this because you've suddenly decided you wanna sleep with her or is this just some dirty trick to try to help you win?”

He slams his back against his headboard. “Not everything is a goddamn tactic to try to win something.”

“Then you're doin' it wrong.” Unsure of why the idea of him hooking up with her rubs me the wrong way, I try to shake it off. “Do you have fucking feelings for Alexxa? And when the fuck did that start?”

“I didn't say that,” he quietly argues.

But he's not
denying
it either. Why the hell does that bother me so much? It's gotta be just a territory thing. I need to be the one to bone her first, then what the fuck ever. They can start screwing, get married and miserable, and have nerdy little mixed children. I'll be Uncle Luca. No. That didn't come out in a hateful tone...Shut up.

“Then what the fuck is the point of this conversation?”

Warren shakes his head. “Nevermind. You're clearly set on doing this-”

“Yup.”

“-so just forget it.”

I clear my throat. “You remember the rules, right?”

“Can't tell her. Can't
lead
her to figure it out on her own.”

With a pleased smile, I wink.

Just as Warren rolls his eyes, a hand glides up my bicep. “You ready, sexy?”

My eyes glance down at the petite blonde who's already completely topless. “Yeah. Oh, Nikole, Warren. Warren, Nikole.”

“With a K,” she giggles at him.

Because that's important to know when you're tits are bouncing freely for the world to see.

“You know, you're kinda hot too,” Nikole begins, tongue tasting her own lips.

Playfully I agree, “He is in a Harry Potter kind of way.”

“Harry Potter was brunette, moron.” His correction is immediately proceeded by him understanding my insult. “I...get it now.”

“Wanna join us?” She offers running her hands through her hair.

After giving her a glance, I shrug and look back at him. “As long as our dicks don't touch, I'm game.”

Horror hops into Warren's eyes while his mouth bobs without sound escaping.

I chuckle to myself before finally sighing, “Looks like the drought will continue. I'll meet you in my room in a sec.”

“K,” Nikole coos and kisses me on the cheek. “Don't take too long....”

Looking over my shoulder I watch her stroll away, ass damn near hanging out of her jean shorts. The moment she's disappeared I turn back around to my best friend whose face is still frozen in shock. “You might wanna turn that shit back up. She's kinda a screamer.”

“Unbelievable,” Warren mutters yet does as suggested.

“Is that Sweet Home Alabama?” I push off the door frame. Without needing an actual answer I start singing on beat and in key, “Sweet Home Nikole's pussy. My cock is comin' home to you....”

“You make me need the very therapy I'm hoping to give one day.”

On another chuckle I give him the finger and head back to my room where one of my favorite weekend regulars is waiting to give my neighbors another reason for me to have to fuck my way out of noise complaints with the apartment manager.

What can I say? Sex is a currency I've got plenty of and don't mind using.