Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

Shit. Have I done something awful?

Paying off my fellow recruits to sabotage Ever’s speed dating session seemed like the perfect solution to my panic this afternoon. Actually, I was so sure the plan had been genius right up until two minutes ago, when she approached me on the sidewalk. But she looks . . . crushed. What the fuck did they say to her? I probably should have been a little more specific than, “Don’t let anyone with a penis get within two feet of Ever.”

Keeping her safe and ensuring her heart remains intact were my main reasons for wrecking her speed dates. Well. That and wanting her back to myself. But if what I’ve done upset her, I’ve failed. Hard. Some jerk-off did hurt her feelings—me.

She’s standing right here in front of me, looking like magic in the fall of nighttime, in all her golden blonde mermaidness. Exactly as I had hoped. I didn’t want her to be sad, though. God, no. I’ve never seen her anything but smiling and full of mischief. My guts feel like they’re being mashed together between two Hulk fists.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Her voice is scratchy and she laughs, like she’s trying to hide it. She seems almost disappointed, but I can’t pinpoint why. I hate this feeling that I’m somehow letting her down, just by standing there. There was one other time in my life a woman stood in front of me, expecting something I’d never been taught how to give. It’s a helpless feeling. An inadequate feeling. I’m much more comfortable with people expecting success from me in school or professionally, so I’ve learned to stick with expectations I can meet. Right now, though, I’m sorely wishing I had more in my wheelhouse.

“I was just going to grab a drink, then head back downtown,” Ever says, tucking a flying strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “How have you been?”

“Busy with the academy.” Scheming with a bunch of knuckleheads to purposefully ruin your night, then pacing back and forth on this street corner like a lunatic, wanting to strangle anyone who traded two words with you. “Training. Studying for exams. You know how it goes.”

She nods way too eagerly; her eyes are no longer meeting mine. “It was good to see you, Charlie. I’m going to skate.” The wind moves around me as she sails past, throwing me a wink. “Take care of yourself, big man.”

That’s it?

I’m so stunned at her abrupt exit, it takes me a moment to realize the full scope of what happened. I failed. The plan backfired. I upset Ever for nothing, which makes me a bastard and a sucker. The bastard part is worse, though. Way worse. I turn and watch her float down the sidewalk, remembering the way she’d seemed to be waiting for something from me. What the hell was it?

She’s more determined to meet someone else than I originally thought. That much is clear. Actually, I’m pretty fucking embarrassed for assuming she’d want to resume our arrangement so easily. Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Jack.

Regroup, man. Regroup.

Here is what I know. I don’t like the crashing cymbals that grow louder in my head the farther away she gets. My palms are sweating, and I think I might swallow my tongue. I definitely don’t like her walking away upset, especially when I’m the one who caused tonight’s fuckery. And I’m not going to end up in bed with Ever tonight.

That last one is downright painful.

A man with a more righteous moral code might walk away at this point. Resolve not to cause any more destruction. Leave Ever to find her Frat Founder Romeo and fade into the sunset. Me? I don’t have it in me to quit. What Ever and I had only comes around once in a lifetime, if you’re lucky, and if I can just show her that, she’ll come back to me. Hell, I’m saving us both. This is literally God’s work I’m doing.

No more date sabotage, though. I hurt Ever tonight, whether or not it was intentional, and I cannot, will not, see her like that again. If she’d actually cried, I would be in a fetal position on the sidewalk right now. So causing her dates to fail is out.

So what is the next play? Go with Ever right now to get that drink?

It’s a bad idea. I know it. She’s vulnerable after a shit show I caused. Having a drink means conversation, means me cheering her up. It is crossing the line from hookup to . . . friend. No way am I going to end up in Ever’s friendzone and be subjected to details about her dates—

Wait a minute.

Wait.

I have a new plan.

That old saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, takes on a whole new meaning. Right now, my enemies are everyone on the island of Manhattan with a cock, Internet access and enough money for happy hour. That is a lot of enemies. But if I know about these pricks in advance, I can monitor the situation from the inside, ensuring Ever stays safe and my sanity remains intact.

Maybe the friendzone wouldn’t be such a bad place to be, if Ever confides in me about her failed dates . . . and I’m sitting pretty looking like the better option.

A voice in the back of my mind screeches like a creature from the underworld. Bad idea, Charlie. Bad. That voice has tried to reason with me many times before and failed. From a young age, I’ve been somewhat notorious for coming up with ill-advised plans. Faking two identities so I could give blood three times, just to afford tickets to a Foals concert. Buying a tuba from a pawn shop on the cheap, so I could get out of school early, posing as a band member on their way to a big game. Using my father’s classic Chevy as collateral on a bet in high school. And losing. Thankfully, I’d doubled down and won it back before anyone was the wiser, but it had been touch and go for a while there.

I’d promised my father I would be more disciplined, more logical-minded, when I joined the academy. So far I haven’t let him down. And I won’t. But I need Ever. This idea of mine is an avenue to achieve that. So I take it.

“Ever,” I call, right before she dips into the bar. She turns, blonde hair flying in eighty directions around her face. A pounding in my chest begins, so loud it drowns out traffic whizzing past on the avenue. “Wait up.”





Chapter 7





Ever


Charlie is up to something.

That’s my initial reaction when he follows me into the bar, but I feel bad almost immediately. He’s been nothing but sweet and respectful to me since we met, hasn’t he? Toward the end, he’d even seemed guilty when he had to leave immediately after we’d rocked each other’s worlds. He would wear a badge someday, serve and protect the fine—and occasionally smelly—city of New York. I have no reason to suspect he’d follow me into the bar for nefarious purposes.

I mean, I know he wants to get laid. So do I.