Sixth Time's the Charm

The most untouchable guy on campus had me pinned to a wall, drunk off his feet, calling me his wife.

Problem: I had never met him before in my life.

He leaned in, all that ridiculous face six inches from mine, and my brain just stopped rendering.

What I managed. What do you want?

His mouth curved. Soft. Wrecked. Like a kid who'd lost something precious and just found it again.

"Wife," he mumbled. "Kiss."

Yeah. Good luck surviving that.

Chapter 1

A shadow peeled off the wall and yanked me into the corner by the restrooms.

"Who"

The campus heartthrob. Drunk. Blocking my path like a six-foot-two roadblock with cheekbones.

First day of grad school. Orientation, dinner with my new cohort, one trip to the restroom. That was the entire plan.

Instead, Xanderthe Xander, the one the entire campus lost their minds overtook one swaying step forward, wrapped both arms around me, and kissed me on the mouth.

I turned to stone.

"You" My voice came out strangled. "What are you doing?"

He gave me a small, miserable pout. "Wife. Kiss."

This. This was the legendary ice-cold heartthrob nobody could get a single word out of?

He had the wrong person. He had to have the wrong person.

I hauled him toward the private room to hand him off to his friends. Shoved the door open.

Empty. Cleared out. Not one traitor left behind.

Six-foot-two of dead weight sagged against me, and let me tell you, the boy was not light.

He tipped his head and nuzzled toward my neck like a heat-seeking missile with no off switch. I pried his face away. He found his way right back.

"Wife," he breathed.

Quinn. Do not catalog how warm that is. I took a step back and my shoulders hit the wall. Nowhere left to go.

Fine. I dumped him onto the lobby couch and turned to go find an actual functioning human.

He caught my wrist and reeled me back, hooking an arm around me from behind.

"Don't go."

Summer night, thin shirt, and his whole body ran hot against my back. My pulse climbed somewhere it had absolutely no business going.

Hold the line, I told myself. Hold your stupid line.

For one second I thought about his real girlfriendbecause a guy like this had a girlfriend, obviouslyand something in my chest pulled sideways. The dumb, quiet ache of standing this close to something that was never going to be mine.

I crouched in front of him, waved a hand through his glassy stare, and pointed at my own face.

"Xander. Look. Who am I?"

He looked.

Two full seconds. Not a drunk man squinting at a stranger. Something steadier than that. Like he was reading a page he already knew by heart.

Then he smiled, slow and unfairly bright, and leaned in and kissed me again.

"My wife," he murmured.

I short-circuited. My whole face went up in flames. It took me an embarrassing amount of time to remember how words worked.

"...kay."

That was the exact moment the front door opened and somebody gasped.

A cluster of girls, frozen mid-step. One of them I knew. Tatumthe it-girl who'd lived down the hall in undergrad and never once liked me. Everyone knew Tatum had a thing for Xander. Everyone also knew I was nobody. Just a girl with a hopeless little crush she kept to herself.

Tatum shoved through the others and planted herself in front of him, one shaking finger leveled at me.

"Youyouthrowing yourself attaking advantage of Xander"

She couldn't get the sentence out. It came in pieces, pitched a notch too high, like a girl running lines she hadn't quite rehearsed.

Then she got nudged aside. Hard.

Behind me, Xander had thrown both arms open. Wide. Reaching for me. Eyes locked on mine in front of every single one of them.

"Wife. Hug."

Tatum went a blotchy white.

Me?

She moved to take his arm, said she'd get him home.

He waved her off without even looking and grabbed for me instead. "Want my wife."

"Xander." Her voice shook with something ugly. "When you sober up, you are going to wish you were dead."

Nothing for it. I steered him out of Echo Karaoke Bar, digging for his phone to call his roommates.

"Xander, what's your passcode?"

He leaned in, mouth at my ear, voice low and warm and frankly illegal. "My wife's birthday."

I don't know your wife, my guy.

"Okay. What's your wife's number, then?"

He blinked. Thought very hard. Started reciting. "One-three-five. One-three-five..."

Me?

And right as I was about to completely lose it, a voice behind me called my name.

"Quinn"

Chapter 2

I turned around and nearly died on the spot.

"ProProfessor Calloway."

My professor. He'd taught me back in undergrad and he taught Xander too. Same department as both of us.

Xander surfaced just enough to slur out a greeting. "Professor."

Calloway looked at the six-foot-two disaster draped over me, and his mouth did something slow and knowing. "So. You two"

"No." I waved both hands and tried to peel Xander off me. "No, Professor. Absolutely not."

Get the wrong idea and I was done for. If his girlfriend heard about this she'd be gutted, and it would be my fault.

But under Calloway's unhurried, amused stare, Xander only burrowed in closer, warm and pitiful. "Wife. Cuddle."

I had nothing.

Nothing for it. I got him a room at the motel down the block, hauled him onto the bed, and turned to leave.

He caught the hem of my shirt. Eyes shut, voice a thread. "Wife. Don't go."

I genuinely could not be cruel to this man.

Then his face went a particular shade that meant he was about to be sick.

Wonderful. I walked him to the bathroom, held him through it, helped him rinse his mouth. He was unbelievably docile the whole time, mumbling the same thing on a loop.

"Thank you, wife."

I wanted to ruffle his hair.

He finally passed out on the bed. Lashes long enough to sweep the floor. Stupid, flawless face. Mouth still flushed and a little wet.

I'd been quietly, hopelessly in love with him for so long, and it turned out he had a girlfriend.

I sat there a second longer than I needed to. This was probably the closest I would ever get.

I turned to go. His phone lit up.

Somebody should know the situation, so I answered.

A roommate, judging by the volume. "Xander, you absolute legend, where are you, you're blowing up the group chat right now"

I said nothing for a second.

"...Hi," I tried. "Xander's drunk. I couldn't get him back to the dorm, so we're at a hotel nearby."

Explain it clearly. Do not let anyone get the wrong idea. Best case, a roommate shows up and takes him off my hands.

The line went dead silent. Then it detonated.

"QUEEN."

What.

"I'm not"

He wasn't listening. He'd collapsed into real, wet sobbing. "Queen. Do you have any idea how long it took to get this man off the market"

This could not get more misread. "His girlfriend isn't me," I said.

A pause. I let myself hope he was finally going to believe me.

"You're a girl?"

I confirmed that I was, in fact, a girl.

...Did I not sound like one?

"You're the one who walked him out of Echo tonight?"

That was me. Not sure why it mattered.

The line folded into wailing all over again. "QUEEN"

I gave up on words.

Here's what I pieced together, between sobs: our photo was already all over campus. Xander had gotten drunk tonight, announced he was going to find his wife, and walked out the door.

The thing was, he'd been single for years. Nobody had the faintest idea where a wife had come from.

And a drunk guy on his own was dangerous, so the roommates had begged me not to leave him alone. Begged.

Funny how hard they pushed for that.

Which is how I ended up still there in the morning, opening my eyes just as Xander walked out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

The whole room went stiff.

The drunk boy was gone. White T-shirt, dark pants, water still in his hair. He looked like something carved for a magazine, and his eyes, clear and level and cold, pinned me where I sat. The air in the room seemed to reorganize itself around him.

I forgot to breathe. My fingers curled into the sheets.

The man standing in front of me and the boy who'd cried "wife" into my neck all night could not possibly be the same person.

Chapter 3

"So... anyway, I should go."

I bolted for the door. He caught me.

Tall, strong, and I couldn't break the grip no matter how I pulled.

His face was cool, remote, bored. Then his mouth tipped up, slow, and he leaned down until we were eye to eye. "Running where?"

What.

Sober, this man flirting was just unfair.

I blue-screened, beautifully.

He laughed under his breath and his whole face lit with it and I forgot how to be a person.

"You... what are you doing?"

He sank into a chair, unhurried, still smiling. "You go around telling people I'm your boyfriend, stir up a mess, then try to run?"

I almost laughed.

Sorry, who spent all night refusing to let go of me, calling me wife?

His eyes went flat. Shameless. "Hm. Doesn't ring a bell."

"Then what do you want," I bit out.

A low laugh. That voice again, all silk. "I want. My wife."

He said it like he was commenting on the weather.

I, meanwhile, was on fire.

I'd almost gotten used to drunk Xander talking like this. But this was sober Xander.

I wanted to crawl into the floor. He stayed perfectly unbothered, like the man who'd said that filthy little line wasn't him at all.

"Xander," I said shakily. "Are you possessed?"

He looked at me for a long, unimpressed moment.

Then crossed one leg over the other, all cold money and ease.

"Don't overthink it. I'm only saying. Since this many people already have the wrong idea, maybe we just"

I cut him off. "Obviously we clear it up."

His eyelids lifted. He gave me one heavy look, like there was something else he'd meant to say. In the end he didn't say it.

That was the real, sober Xander.

I liked him. Which was exactly why I was scared to get any closer. Closer meant liking him more, until I couldn't walk away.

Xander, efficient as ever, texted that he'd set up a dinner that night. To clear things up.

I'd just gotten downstairs when I ran straight into a senior from my program.

I meant to nod and keep walking. He stopped me.

"Quinn."

I turned. He stared at me, and it seemed to cost him something to get the words out. "You and Xander. You're together?"

Sorry, what?

There was something almost regretful in it. "Is it true?"

A little deflated, I asked, "How did you even hear?"

Our photos, he said. All over campus by now, posts and all.

Right. The untouchable genius heartthrob and his polar-opposite nobody. Of course it set the whole place on fire.

I shook my head. Not true. I didn't notice Carter's eyes light up.

He said he had plans there too, and walked with me to the dinner spot. By the time we arrived, Xander's expression was already terrible.

Black windbreaker, which only made him look more distant, features cut sharper. Sitting in the middle of the crowd, he was impossible not to stare at.

One of his roommates howled.

"QUEEN."

Then the wailing went up all around.

"Queen... somebody's finally here to put this man in his place, ohhh my god..."

"No more running his errands and ferrying his love notes, ohhh..."

Across the restless table, Xander watched me from a distance, his face dark enough to drip ink.

Right. Misread again, in public. He wasn't happy.

Not far from him, Tatum glared daggers at me.

And on the other side. Oh, you have got to be kidding. Why did Professor Calloway have the contented face of a man settling in to watch a show?

Xander had rounded up every single person who'd witnessed any of it. Every last one.

Like the whole night was something he needed witnesses for.

Chapter 4

His roommates crowded in, all talking at once. "Queen, Queen" God, they were loud.

I got pushed into the seat next to Xander. The cold came off him in waves.

I leaned over. "Are we clearing this up now?"

He gave a short, cold hum, the tease in it not quite covering the bad mood. "Scared enough of me to bring backup?"

Backup. Right. Carter. When had Xander even clocked him?

I'd genuinely forgotten the guy was there. Feeling a little guilty, I shot Carter a small smile across the next table.

And watched Xander's hand, mid-motion offering me a skewer, withdraw the skewer.

Petty. So petty.

I'd eaten enough anyway. I reached over and poked him. His arm was solid muscle, no give at all.

He slid me a look of pure distaste. "What."

Sir. Weren't we here to clear up a misunderstanding? Did the rich boy forget his own agenda?

I leaned in and whispered, "Explain."

Couldn't be bothered. "Whatever."

Unbelievable. Who was I even doing this for. Look at this attitude.

Although, fine, some small, traitorous part of me was a little pleased, busy entertaining the idea that maybe he didn't want to clear it up.

Then the rib-gnawing howler piped up. "Hey, what sweet nothings are you two whispering? Share with the group."

Xander gave him one idle glance. The roommate shut up instantly.

But everyone was still looking at me.

I stood up slowly and spread my hands like a CEO addressing the board. "Everyone. A few words."

His roommates erupted, whooping, applauding. "AYYY, the Queen speaks"

I hesitated. "So... I'm not your Queen."

That stopped them cold. Faces froze. They looked at each other.

Good. Solid comprehension skills, these boys.

Then: "Oh. Not Queen. First lady works too."

I had nothing.

The more I explained, the further they ran with it, until somehow we'd landed on the boss's wife.

They wailed. "Don't abandon the boss, ma'am, the man's been single since the dawn of time, do you have any idea how hard it was for him to finally lock someone down"

I looked to Xander for help. He sat sprawled and easy, watching me take all of it, the corner of his mouth tipped up. What was that about?

Was this not a two-person problem?

I just stared at him.

And he smiled. Eyes curving, whole face lit, and my heart went soft and stupid.

God, this man was beautiful.

Then Xander leaned in. I didn't pull back fast enough. My face went hot.

His breath had just reached my ear, his voice just starting, low

Carter shot to his feet.

He was loud enough that I never heard what Xander said.

"Quinn really isn't Xander's girlfriend," Carter announced.

The table blanked.

I felt Xander go rigid beside me. One full beat of stillness.

Carter kept going. "She's mine."

What.

Before the shock even landed, the air around us dropped ten degrees.

Xander's face was a terrible, quiet thing. Not one roommate dared breathe.

He didn't stand. He didn't raise his voice. He just let the silence stretch until the whole table felt it, then lifted his head and looked at me. Only me.

"Is that right."

It wasn't a question.

Of course it wasn't true. My mouth opened

A voice behind me said, "Of course it is."

Carter took my hand.

And under Xander's level, unmoving stare, I let myself be led out of Pit Stop BBQ.

Chapter 5

Once we were far enough away, Carter stopped and turned to me. "You're not mad, are you?"

When I didn't answer, he kept going. "I just watched you explain yourself for ten minutes straight and get nowhere, so. I acted on impulse."

My mood was somewhere on the floor. I'd lost my mind back there, honestly half-hoping I wouldn't have to explain at all.

When Xander had leaned in, some idiot part of me had actually wanted him to tell me to stop talking.

But the truth was, for a long, long time before any of this, he'd never once looked straight at me.

A misunderstanding. Better off over.

I dredged up a smile. "It's fine."

Carter lowered his voice. "Those guys are bad news, every one of them. You should keep your distance."

For days after, I didn't see Xander.

Then, on the weekend, coming back from class, Carter showed up to drop off some papers. And just past him, under the dim wash of a streetlight, I saw Xander.

Standing perfectly straight. White T-shirt, black pants, all that height, that quiet, unmistakable presence.

Maybe I stared too long, because Carter followed my eyes.

"You want to go talk to him?"

My pulse jumped and I didn't even know what I was hoping for.

I'd just lifted a foot to go.

A shape appeared at Xander's side. Tatum.

Smiling up at him, standing close, the two of them saying something I couldn't hear.

His back was to me. I couldn't see his face.

He's probably smiling, I thought.

And apparently my little staring session hadn't gone unnoticed. By the time Carter and I crossed paths again downstairs that night, the people nearby were pointing, murmuring, loud about it.

I'd just opened my mouth to say hi.

"Oh"

Something yanked me sideways, and I landed in a warm pair of arms.

Cool woody cologne, threaded with the faint smell of liquor.

Xander?

The gawkers were multiplying.

I had a bad feeling.

But when I looked closer, his eyes were clear enough. He couldn't be that drunk.

Then, next second, he looked down at me, mouth wobbling, pitiful. "Wife."

Oh come on. Again?

Xander, I swear you've been drinking knockoff liquor.

Sure enough, all six-foot-two of him sagged into me, and I scrambled to hold us both up.

Carter moved to pull him off. Xander locked his arms around me and would not let go.

Carter got rougher. I watched red welts rise on Xander's forearm where the grip dragged.

He didn't even notice. He held on like I was something he'd die before dropping.

His eyes had gone red at the rims, and he kept murmuring it, over and over. "Want my wife."

I couldn't do it. I stopped Carter. "It's okay."

Carter looked at Xander holding me, and something heavy settled behind his eyes.

"It's fine," I told him. "You go ahead. I'll call his roommates."

"But he"

"It's fine."

Carter left, and only then did Xander's grip slowly ease.

He buried his face in my neck, nudged in deeper, his breath warm and maddening against my skin.

Like this, he looked like a wounded dog. Hazy drunk eyes, red rims, lashes trembling, that perfect face. And underneath all of it, in his expression, I could read something deep. Aching. Devoted.

I didn't know who drunk Xander thought he was holding.

Whoever she was, he loved her. That much was obvious.

My arms had started to come up around him. I made them stop. Whatever he was clinging to in the dark, it wasn't me.

My eyes stung. Pity she wasn't me.

Chapter 6

I called his roommates. Not one of them picked up.

I tried to get him to a hotel. He clamped onto the door and refused to move.

Nothing for it.

So I made him a bed on the floor and took the actual bed myself.

"You sleep down there," I told him.

He shook his head slowly. Insistent. "Want the bed."

I gritted my teeth. "That's where I sleep."

Drunk, he had this boyish innocence to him. He looked at me, dead serious, then nodded fast like a little kid. "Mm. Sleep in the bed. With wife."

I...

"I'm not your wife," I warned.

And for the first time in recorded history, Xander nodded along. "Mm."

Before I could even process the win.

His mouth curved, and the whole devastating thing came back online, and he stared at me like he wanted to eat me up. "Pretty wife."

I...

Could he not. Just. Do that.

I was not going to survive him.

He did, in the end, lie down on the floor like a good boy.

And then I woke up the next morning with that gorgeous face inches from mine.

Flawless skin. Sharp, pretty brows.

Also: his arm draped over my waist, my leg hooked over his.

I was done for.

"Ohgod."

My yelp woke him. He rubbed his eyes, gave me one flat look. Stone-cold sober now.

I expected him to spring back.

Instead he tugged me in closer, shut his eyes, and settled in to keep sleeping.

Was the knockoff liquor still in his system?

How was one arm this heavy. I could not shove it off.

"Xander," I said, sharp.

"Are you sober yet?"

He finally opened his eyes. Then, unhurried, perfectly composed, sat up.

Back to the cool, untouchable, expensive ice-prince.

"Why did you end up in my bed," I demanded.

He was already standing, looking down at me, hair a mess, clothes half-wrecked.

A soft laugh. His throat moved. He took his sweet time. "Impressive. This time you dragged me all the way home."

Then ran a slow look around my apartment.

I nearly ground my teeth flat.

Then don't come, if you're so put out.

He bent down, leaned in close, met my eyes. His were clear as water, his voice still morning-rough, which only made it worse.

Please stop.

My heart slammed up into my throat.

He said it one word at a time. "Tell me. Next time. What else are you going to do to me. Wife."

Oh my

Me?

Impressive. Truly. Impressive work, Xander.

Who was the one who refused to leave. Who was the one who felt sorry for you.

I puffed up. "Xander. I dare you to never come back."

He straightened, gave a light, lazy smile. "I am pretty daring."

Well. After that, he definitely wasn't coming back.

Xander left.

Furious, I called his roommate to tell him to keep the man away from knockoff liquor. Strange. The call went through on the first try this time.

The next night, I got home and scanned the area. Nobody downstairs, just as expected.

Couldn't tell if what I felt was disappointment or something else.

Fine, Xander. I'll give you that. You've got some pride.

I rode up to the 13th floor. The elevator doors slid open, and a tall, straight-backed figure was standing right in front of me.

The air carried a faint trace of alcohol