K. Linde - Take Me for Granted

Cheyenne’s words rang in my ears. Grant McDermott does not ask people out.

That had to be an exaggeration, right? Because he had just asked me out again.

“Aribel,” Kristin said in welcome. With a big smile, she took the seat next to me. “I just saw you with Grant McDermott on the quad!”

“Oh,” I said softly. “How do you know Grant?”

“ContraBand, duh! Like, everyone knows who Grant is. If you don’t follow the band, how do you know Grant McDermott?” she asked, her brown eyes wide.

I debated if I should just tell her that I didn’t know Grant, but she would probably want more details if I gave her that kind of answer. “My friends dragged me to the band’s show last night after Benjamin broke up with me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was wondering what that was all about with Grant since I knew you were taken. That sucks so bad,” Kristin said.

I hated sympathy, and I hated false sympathy even more. Kristin and I coincided in the same group of mutual friends, but that didn’t mean she knew me well enough to be this sorry about my breakup.

“It’s for the better. It’s not a big deal.”

“I still can’t believe you were yelling like that on the quad,” Kristin said.

Had we been yelling? “He was bothering me.”

“He’s gorgeous. He can bother me all he wants.”

“I’d prefer that,” I said dismissively.

“So…you have no interest in him at all?”

“Did I look like I did when I walked away?” I asked. I was getting irritated again. Is everyone going to be in my business about this?

“You guys looked like you were going to kiss.”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“Okay, jeez, I was just asking,” she said, pulling up her laptop.

At that moment, the professor walked up to the front of the lecture hall and clapped his hands. “All right, class, let’s get started.”

I tried to push aside the events that had transpired. I’d gotten rid of Grant McDermott. That was all that mattered. People would forget about our encounter on the quad. Everything would go back to normal.

I reached into my bag and pulled out my chemistry assignment. I passed it over to Kristin for the TA to collect.

“Hey, darlin’,” I heard as I ducked my head under the table.

My head snapped back up and smacked into the desk. “Shit,” I cried, rubbing the back of my head. I saw Grant’s standing in the aisle and nearly groaned. “What are you doing here?”

Grant smiled back at me broadly with his eyes wide and innocent. I knew that he was anything but innocent. His eyes averted to Kristin sitting next to me. Her mouth was hanging open.

“Babe, you mind relocating? I’d like your seat,” he said, laying on the Southern charm thick.

“Um…sure,” Kristin said breathlessly. She picked up her laptop and started shuffling her papers together.

“Is there a problem back there?” the professor asked.

“Sir, we’re just getting our seats situated, sir,” Grant spoke up confidently.

“Well, get situated quickly. I have a class to teach.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kristin stared back at me in disbelief before scurrying to a seat across the aisle. I didn’t even know what to say as Grant slid effortlessly into the vacated chair. He slunk back and tossed his arm across the back of my seat. Some of his dark hair fell forward across his forehead, and he wore his sexy smirk like a god.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed as the professor started teaching.

“You told me to enroll at Princeton. I’m not bad at chemistry, but I thought I’d sharpen up.”

“Grant, seriously, this isn’t a game.”

“No, princess, it’s not. Now, shh…you’re interfering with my learning experience.”

“Interfering?” I managed to gasp out.

“Shh…” he said, pressing his finger to his lips and looking at me with his peripheral vision.

I snapped my mouth shut and tried to focus on the class, but my mind wasn’t in it. I was too busy trying to figure out Grant’s motive. I wouldn’t suddenly go on a date with him because he stalked me to my chemistry class.

Partway through the lecture, Grant’s hand slid from my chair to my side and landed on my thigh. I swatted at him, and he moved his hand away, but then he replaced it a minute later.

“Ever heard of sexual harassment?” I growled at him.

“Nope.”

“You should look into it,” I said, pushing his hand away again.

He turned to face me again, and his gaze felt hot on my face. I tried to focus on the professor.

“Go out with me.”

“No,” I groaned. “Find someone else, and leave me alone.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

“Tough shit! You don’t always get what you want.”

“Fine. Just come to my show in the city this weekend.”

“If I won’t see you here, why would I drive to New York City to see you?” I demanded.

“Because it’s the city that never sleeps, and neither will you.”

“Oh my God.” Where the hell did he come up with this stuff?

“Just go out with me. Anywhere. Dinner, the city, coffee. I’ll fucking sit out on the quad with you, and we can let people stare at us again. Just give me a chance.”

“Why?”

What I wanted to ask—but I was actually holding back for the first time in my life—was, Why me? I wasn’t some slutty sexpot. Even if we went out, I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. I understood that I had said no and so that had made me appealing to him in some way, but it wasn’t enough to justify all of this.

“Because I know what I want.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know I want you.”

“And that’s enough?” I asked desperately.

“For me.”

We were staring at each other so intently that I hadn’t even noticed the professor had walked up the aisle to stand in front of my desk.

“Since you two seem unable to contain your conversation, perhaps you should continue it outside.”

My mouth fell open. “I’m so sorry. We’ll be quiet.”

“Sir, it was my fault,” Grant said, taking the fall.

That surprised me a bit.

“I don’t care whose fault it is. I expect you to pack up your things and leave. Return when you will not disturb the class,” he said before turning and walking back to the front of the room.

I grabbed my things and rushed out of the classroom in shame. I had been kicked out of class. I couldn’t believe it. By the time I exited the room, I was fuming.

Grant followed behind me a minute later. “Aribel, I’m really sorry.”

“You got me kicked out of class!” I yelled at him.

“I know. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t think—”

“That’s right! You didn’t think. You have no idea what this means to me or how this could affect me. All you care about is your stupid game. Newsflash, Grant—I’m not going to sleep with you!” I screamed in his face. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours, and you’re already messing up my life. So, do me a favor, and just get out of it!”

Thirteen years.

It had been thirteen years since I last pushed too hard for what I wanted…since the last time I had failed. All of that came crashing down around me as I stood there and let Aribel lay into me like I was no better than the scum on the bottom of her shoe.

In all honesty, I probably wasn’t, not compared to someone like her. She seemed like a package deal—smart, really fucking smart, hot, and feisty. Why the hell would she want to go out with a guy like me anyway?

And that should have made me back the fuck off. It should have made me want to walk dick-first into the next easy pussy I stumbled across. But it didn’t. As she rambled on about my utter douchiness, all I could think about was how I could fix this. So, I let her walk away. I was already going to be late for rehearsal, and if I were late one more time, Miller would have my ass.

Arriving just on time, I hopped out of my lifted dark blue F-150 and strolled into the garage. When I’d first bought the place, I’d renovated the garage, so we would have a place to rehearse. I’d only left enough space for my sleek red Ducati.

“Bro, where the fuck have you been all morning?” Vin asked.

“With your mother.”

“Fuck off!” Vin yelled back at me.

I sauntered over to my baby and picked her up from her stand. She was a cherry red Gibson SG that I loved more than anything else on the planet. She had gotten me through the rough times, and every day that went by when I wasn’t strumming her to life made me feel like I was dying.

“Seriously though, Grant,” Miller started his best reprimand, “can’t you ever manage to be on time? You’d think a label scout coming to our show tomorrow night would get you to be more serious about rehearsals.”

“Miller, chill the fuck out. I’m serious about rehearsals.”

“Then, can we fucking get started?” McAvoy leaned back against the wall, balancing precariously on two legs of his stool. He flipped a drumstick between his fingers.

“Yeah. Are we playing ‘Hemorrhage’?” I asked.

McAvoy started the beat to our lead song.

The words were spilling out of my mouth. My hands were flying across my baby as I coaxed the chords and rhythms out of her. My body was super heated from the bright lights on the stage, and sweat collected on my brow and the back of my plain black V-cut T-shirt. My dog tags hung loose around my neck, moving in time with me.