by Daisy Allen
“You’re supposed to be on MY team,” I grumble.
“I am on your team. I’m also funny.”
I snort and almost drop the ball on our feet. “You’re deluded is what you are.”
“Hurry up! We already know you’re just going to get it into the gutter,” Jez rushes me.
“Yeah, but we don’t know which one,” Sebastian calls out. “I vote the one in the next lane like she did on the last bowl.”
“HEY!” I cry out, offended. I’m missing that warm welcome they gave me last night.
“It’s okay, honey. You just take your time.” Cadence says supportively, then adds, “It’s not like I have a plane to catch in 12 hours or anything.” Traitor.
“Ok, look, you’re just not holding the ball right,” Marius says, pressing up closer behind me. His hand suddenly reaches around, pressing his hands against mine, gently guiding my fingers into position. “See? You’ve got the wrong fingers in the wrong holes.”
“Oi, we have a kid here! Keep it PG, people!” Brad yells out and Sebastian snorts so hard he chokes on his drink.
“Shut it! That’s my sister.” Jez hisses.
“Ignore them.” Marius’s voice is low, and it’s like he’s inside my brain whispering to me. I squirm a bit, not sure how to feel about him being so close. My body’s burning hot and there’s nothing I can do about that.
He seems oblivious to my dilemma and just keeps guiding me. “Yup, that’s right. You’ve got to move your stance as well. Take bigger steps and then kind of drop your knee down and with that momentum swing your arm back and let go of the ball. You don’t really need to use too much energy.” As he talks, his hands move around. First, they slide down my arms and then they’re on my hips, his legs pushing mine to separate a bit. And then they’re on my waist again as he guides my body motions.
But his voice, his lips, are always right there against my ear, his breath on my neck.
I swallow hard. I can barely make out the words that he’s saying, but I’m trying to concentrate on them… and not on him.
“Ahem,” I clear my throat when I realize he’s stopped talking for a moment, and waiting for me to reply. “Yeah, um, thanks. Okay. I’ll give that a try.”
“Okay, go on, I’ll help,” he nods, encouragingly.
He doesn’t step back, and I realize he’s going to move with me.
I take a step forward.
“Yup, you got it, wider steps,” he directs.
I feel myself lunging forward, almost losing my balance, and I feel his hands steady me at the waist.
“Whoa, I said a bit, not do the splits.” He chuckles a little and then I hear him clear his throat as well.
“Okay, one more step. Sing your hand back and… let go.”
I drop my knee and swing. He’s so close I swear I feel his chest and his groin graze against my back as I move. The ball falls onto the lane with a dull, heavy thud, but it gains speed and rolls down the lane. Everyone is silent as we watch it slowly hit the pins and they fall. All of them. Every single one.
“Oh my god!” I jump up and spin around, and he hasn’t moved. He’s still right there. I’m so excited I wrap my arms around his neck and press a kiss to his cheek.
His eyebrows jump up but his arms slide around me, pulling me tight against him. The conflicted look in his eyes, though, instantly makes me let go and I almost step on his foot on my way down.
“Um, sorry.” I mumble, looking away, letting my hair fall in front of my face.
“It’s okay. Your feet aren’t that big.”
“No! I meant about the… um. Nevermind. Thank you.”
“Congratulations! Your first strike. Virgin no more,” he gives me a wink and then goes to sit back down with the others.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and brush my cool palm over my face, my burning hot face. I follow him back to the group and sit down with my cheering team.
From across the benches, Jez gives me a look and I turn away. He moves to sit down next to me, nudging me with his elbow.
“What was that?” he asks, his voice tense.
“What was what?”
“That!”
“Jez, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I turn away so he can’t see the heat continuing to build in my cheeks.
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m excited. I got my first ever strike!”
“Okay. Just checking.” He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with my answer.
“Well, thanks for checking, big bro. You can go back to your losing team now.” I give a wave of my hand, trying to shoo him off. I grab a hotdog, something with which to busy myself while I try to avoid his stare.
“Um, we’re beating you by like 5 gazillion points.”
“Well, then you don’t want to be here while I have a bottle of ketchup in my hand, do you?” I point it at him threateningly.
He gets up, but not before giving me one last pointed look.
But I can’t worry about him.
I’m too busy being worried about why my cheeks are flushed and my heart is racing and there’s a dampness at the nape of my neck and a warmth between my legs.
No, there’s nothing to worry about, it’s just the excitement, I tell myself again.
It’s not what I think it is.
About who I think it’s about.
Chapter Eight
Marius
“I’m going to miss you so much, my Maz-turbating Mazzy,” Cadence drawls as she hugs me goodbye, her fiancé trying to control her inebriated arms and legs as she bids us all farewell. “You know you’re my favourite.”
“I do and I’m going to miss you too, big sis.” I tell her, squeezing her tight. It’s just not going to be the same without her around.
“And Anca! You’re so beautiful, I know we’ve just met, but you know you’re my favorite,” she says as she moves over to Jez’s sister who laughs and lets Cadence hug her.
“You’re my favorite too, thanks for making it so easy for me.”
“You’re going to be a supernova! Just remember, don’t be scared to stand up to them. And if you want something, ask them in the morning, especially when they’re hungover, they’ll agree to everything then. But shhhhhhhhh don’t tell them I told you that,” she says, pressing her finger to her lips.
“Okay, time for Cadey to go night-night. Seb said you’re going to join us in a few weeks, right?” Brad asks as he reaches out for his own goodbye hug.
“Oh yeahhhhh. In that case… later bitches! I gotta go love my man up!” With that, she suddenly regains control of her limbs, grabs Sebastian by the shirt and drags him down the hall.
“Damn, I’m glad I’m not sleeping next to their room tonight,” Brad says as we watch them disappear into their room.
“Hmmm? Why?” Anca asks, shifting her handbag to her other shoulder. The strap pulls on her dress and exposes the translucent white of her neck. That sexy, impossibly elegant, silky skinned neck. Shit.
“Let’s just say, they… enjoy each other… loudly,” Emily whispers to Anca before raising her arms over her head in a big stretch and yawn. “Okay, guys, I’m gonna hit the sack as well.”
Brad cringes and puts his hands in front of his groin. “I thought we only do that on birthdays and special holidays?” She rolls her eyes and waves us goodbye with Brad following dutifully behind her, grabbing her ass, eliciting a small yelp.
“Guess that leaves you and me,” I say to Anca, as we look over at Jez passed out on the couch in the living room. “You tired?”
She shakes her head, her mass of curls swaying, cascading down her neck and back. “Not really. I’m still pumped from all the winning.” She gives me a look that dares me to challenge her. I can’t help but take the bait.
“Um, we didn’t win.” I point out to her.
“We came second. That’s pretty good too,” she insists.
“Second out of two teams.”
“Oi!
Why ya’ trying to kill my buzz?”
I laugh louder than I expect to. She’s been a good sport all night, no matter how much ribbing she got from us about her bowling skills, and it was a lot.
“Sorry, let me make it up to you. How ‘bout one last celebratory drink, for the road?” I wander over to the drinks trolley, eyes glazing over a little at the selection. The hotel had worked hard to make sure we wouldn’t want for anything.
“Sure. Can we go out to the balcony? I’ve been dying to go out there all night.”
“Absolutely, go ahead, I’ll bring the drinks. Gin and tonic, yeah? With two slices of lime?”
There’s a flicker of surprise in her eyes and she nods. I watch as she pulls on the sliding door and steps out into the night. It’s a few seconds before I remember what I’m supposed to be doing and force myself to concentrate on making the drinks and not on how the back of her ass curves into her long legs.
All the animosity is gone. It dissipated in all the laughter and jokes and smiles and stolen glances of the night. And I shouldn’t be here. I know I shouldn’t.
She’s standing with her arms stretched out wide, her eyes closed and face tilted up to the moonlight when I join her a minute later with our drinks. I pull the door closed behind me, put the glasses down on the side table, and watch her.
Her chest rises from a deep, deep breath and she raises her arms over her head, letting them hang there for a moment before they fall to her sides as she lets out a breath with a loud “whoosh.”
I watch her as she repeats the routine, raising her arms out to the side, taking in a deep breath. Then raising them over her head and then letting them fall, “whoooooooosh.”
I come up behind her and lean in, whispering in her ear. “What on God’s holy earth are you doing?”
She doesn’t move and just stands there, her eyes still closed. “You do it too,” she whispers. It’s not a moment for loud voices.
“Do what?”
“Just copy me, ready?”
I want to laugh but there’s something spellbinding about her, that I can’t help but succumb to the request.
I move next to her, against the railing of the balcony. When she lifts her arms up, I copy and breathe in deep. I take a quick peek out of one eye to see her lift her arms and I mirror her. Then we let them fall, pushing the air out of our lungs. The deep in and out of air almost makes me dizzy and I open my eyes and fix them on the lights twinkling above and below me. Everything blurs and I feel like I’m floating to the heavens.
“We’re flying.” I exhale into the cool night air.
“Yeah, we’re flying,” she agrees, in a soft, husky whisper.
Then she turns to me, and we lock eyes.
And then her lips are on mine.
Hard and deep and urgent.
My arms come up to wrap around her back, as she backs me up against the balcony railing. Her mouth crushing mine. Her tongue in my mouth. Her hands pressed against my chest.
In that one second, my body jerks alive, and I want her.
God, I want her so bad, I can taste it.
It tastes like, it tastes like fucking vanilla.
Sickly sweet and cloying and invading every one of my sense.
“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath and against her mouth, my hand coming up the tangle in that magnificent chestnut mane of hers.
“Fuck,” she murmurs in response.
She’s so warm, every part of her, exuding this heat that I’m clinging to for life.
And then it dawns on me, what we’re doing. And everything stops. I pull away, her hands still clinging to the back of my shirt.
“Dammit. DAMMIT!” I spin around, turning my back to her. “We can’t do this.”
She nods and turns away from me, her hand grabbing at her hair, pulling it to one side, twisting it in her hands. “I’m gonna go.”
“Wait. Anca.” I pivot around, calling out to her. I’m not sure why.
She doesn’t say anything, she just turns back to face me.
“We can’t do this.” I say again.
“I know.”
“No, I mean. We really, really can’t.” My hand twitches to reach out to her.
“No, I know, Marius. I know.” She shakes her head.
“You know why, right?”
She shrugs, “Yes. I mean, no. No, not really. Why?”
She must know, is she just wanting me to say it? “Why do YOU think?”
“Because you don’t want to?” She looks up at me with eyes so vulnerable, my heart clenches.
“Oh my god, no. Fuck, god no. I want to, I want it to so bad I’m afraid my zipper’s not going to hold out much longer against the strength of my… want.” Her eyes flick to my groin, just for a second, then away. But I see it. “No, Anca. Because… Jez.”
She narrows her eyes and takes a step towards me.
“What about him?”
“You’re his sister.”
“Yeah?”
“And. I’m his…”
“Friend? Bandmate?” She suggests.
“No, well, yes, but, above all else, I’m his… bro.” And he is mine.
“So, that makes you my bro?” She muses, tentatively.
“Kinda.” I shrug.
“OK. Ew. Moment over.” She scrunches up her face.
I let out a small chuckle and she gives me a one shoulder shrug and sits down on one of the wicker chairs.
“Fuck.” She says, her head falling into her hands. “This was NOT supposed to happen. How did this happen?”
“Well, there wasn’t much chance of it before. Maybe we should go back to hating each other?”
“I could never hate you, Marius, I never have and I never will.’
“Are you sure. You didn’t like me so much the other day.”
“You’re an idiot.” Her words are insulting, but the smile she gives me tells me a different story. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was 13 years old. I, er, I even told Jez about it.”
“Oh. How did that go down?”
“Not good.” She lets out a small laugh. It’s so cute I just want to go up and give her forehead a kiss. And then ravage her. I slap my forehead to get the image out of my skull. “Anyway. It was just a puppy love thing.”
“Wow. Okay. Huh. And that kiss just then?”
“Think of it this way, it was just to satisfy the teenager inside me.”
“And what about the raging horn dog in me?”
“He will have to say goodnight to me now.”
“Yeah. Fuck. This sucks.” I sigh and reach out to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. “All I want to do right now is kiss you until you beg for breath.”
She looks away and smiles. “The teenager in me is really happy to hear that. It was a pretty big crush.”
We sit for a moment, listening to the traffic sounds drift up to our balcony. I try not to think about how long it’s been since I’ve felt this strong an attraction to someone. And why it doesn’t matter that I feel this way now.
“Hey,” I say after the moon has shifted in the sky. “Remember all those things I said that night, that I said was just to surprise you?”
“Yeah,” she nods.
“I meant every word. Every word.”
“Marius…” she looks up at me, and everything I’m feeling is reflected in her eyes.
I can’t stop myself when I lean down, and press my lips against hers.
It’s different this time. Soft, tender, sweet. So right in every way. But so wrong in just the one way.
I pull back, just far enough so that our lips aren’t touching, but I can still taste the sweet tinge of the gin on her breath.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t. I won’t do it to Jez.” I whisper, my words brushing against her lips.
Her hand comes up to softly caress my cheek and she smiles. I can’t see it on her face, I’m still so close, but I can see it in her eyes. “I know. He’s lucky to have us,” she sighs, and I’d chuckle i
f it didn’t hurt.
“Goodnight, Anca.” I whisper.
“Goodnight, Marius.” She replies.
And I leave before I do something no apologies will ever repair.
Chapter Nine
Anca
People are calling my name.
MINE.
Complete strangers behind the barricade as we walk out from Charles De Gaulle Airport to the cars waiting for us. Mostly they’re yelling out “ROCK CHAMBER BOYS” and the guys’ names, but once in a while I hear “Anca! Anca! Over here!” and the light of a camera flash go off.
Hailey told me yesterday that since they released my name as a guest performer, the radio talks shows and online blogs are already clamouring for information about me; who I am, where I came from, my musical background. She told me as if it were nothing, no big deal. Maybe she’s just been around this business for too long. I can tell you this - strangers knowing your name even though they know nothing about you? IS very, very weird.
“Anca, Anca! You’re beautiful! Where are you from, honey? Blow us a kiss!” A guy dressed in ripped jeans and a leather jacket jumps over the barricade and shoves a camera in my face. He’s so close I can smell the cigarette smoke in his hair and I see he hasn’t shaved in at least 3 days. He trips over his own feet and knocks into me, and I stumble a few steps back.
Marius appears out of nowhere and grabs the guy’s shirt and throws him against one of the waiting cars. “Get the fuck out of here, scumbag!” He yells, snatching the camera away. “If you know what’s good for you and your camera, you’ll stay the hell away from her.”
“I will, geez, sorry,” the paparazzo surrenders, holding his hands up. Marius growls at him again before shoving the camera into his chest and shouting at one of the bodyguards to get rid of him.
“You ok?” Marius turns back to me and asks.
“Er, yeah, sorry,” I stutter a little, still slightly shaken, “he just startled me. I’m fine.”
He holds my look for a little longer than is comfortable and I try not to squirm like a teenager, trying to look brave.