But still…
This NYU thing…
I can’t let it go forever…but I can let it go for right now.
Anne’s voice pulls me back. She’s rising up from the couch, and I presume she’s headed to bed. She walks over to me, her eyes searching. “Also, I noticed that you stared at Spider a lot during dinner. I want you to be polite to him, but he has a history of drug use, and, of course, he’s into his music. You know what kind of lifestyle those types have.”
I sigh, annoyed with her. Again. Sometimes it feels like Anne is the child and I’m the adult. “Spider’s okay. I like him.”
She arches her brows. “Just don’t like him too much.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I don’t tell her that it’s too late.
8
Spider
I run.
I run until I can’t fucking breathe and my chest hurts.
Sweaty and tired, I stop in a nearby park with plenty of streetlights to catch my breath. My head is full of my father, his new wife, and Rose.
Everything inside me feels upside down from my crazy day. I scrub my face. Sometimes exercising keeps the cravings at bay, but right now, it’s not working.
I need something hard to chase everything away.
Exhausted, I park my arse on a bench and make a plan for the evening. I could go back to the house for the night, but for some reason I’m scared and it has a lot to do with Rose. I need to stay away from her. Even though I barely know her, she’s somehow managed to get under my skin.
I heave out a long exhale, feeling alone. They’re back at the house laughing and playing Scrabble. They’re a family, and I don’t fit in.
I change directions and think about our band and how we’ve been on the road for the past several months, hitting bars and small music halls all over the US. We’ve done well to not have a record label. It’s not crazy money, but it’s enough to push us into finding a permanent residence in LA, somewhere to put down roots. Sebastian’s from there and he knows a couple of record producers he wants to work with. He’s the only family I really have…
Which brings me back to the Scrabble game.
Fuck. I really don’t want to go back to that mansion. After some thinking, I decide to pick up my clothes and guitar tomorrow. I call an Uber to take me to The Galleria to shop for the basics: jeans, some random shirts, a pair of leather flip-flops, and underwear. After my shopping, I haul ass to the penthouse and shower.
An hour later, I’m sitting at a bar in Uptown. I order a shot of tequila just as a curvy brunette walks up to me. She reminds me of Rose with her long hair, but she has that rich girl vibe about her that I recognize from a mile away—petulant face, expensive purse, and bought boobs.
She says her name is Kirsten, and I buy her a drink. Hell, I buy her several drinks.
We sneak off to the bathroom and I pull her in a stall where we do a line together and she sucks me off. Later, I throw myself around on the dance floor to some techno music shit that I usually hate. I feel fucking amazing. Life is good. I can handle anything with a drink, a girl, and some coke.
An hour later, we’re tossing back more drinks when she whispers in my ear, her hands rubbing down my chest. “My car’s just outside and my condo is a mile from here. You wanna take this party there?”
I smile down at her.
I don’t even pause. “Indeed.”
She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me, but I avoid her lips with a quick turn of my face.
Rose pops into my head, with her wide green eyes and the way she gets me. She knows what a poser I am—that I have a fucking defense mechanism of all things.
I have to forget her.
“Let’s leave,” I say to the girl.
I pay the check, and we get in her white Lexus. She drives us, even though she’s probably drunk. Streetlights flash by as I rest back against the leather interior.
“You from Dallas?” the girl asks me, and I realize we barely exchanged personal information past our names.
I grunt an affirmation, not wanting to talk to her. Dallas just reminds me that my father is starting all over with a new family when he was never really my family.
We park and I make it all the way to her door before I start getting hot, and not in a good way. I feel like I might be sick. The air thins and I gasp in air.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
Fuck, what was her name again?
She puts a hand on my shoulder and I jerk back. My stomach churns at the thought of rolling around with her in a bed that isn’t mine. Sure, it feels good and makes me forget, but I always feel empty later.
Fuck. I feel empty already.
My high is gone and I’m crashing.
Just go in there and do her.
You’ll feel better.
You’ll forget what a disappointment you are to your father.
You’ll forget Rose.
She wraps a hand around my bicep and squeezes. “Hey, baby, don’t be shy. Let me make you feel good.”
I stare down at her. Her eyes are blue when what I really want is green.
I back away from her.
“Where you going?” Her face is confused.
“I don’t know, probably to hell,” I mutter then take off at a run, descending the steps in the stairwell two at a time.
9
Rose
The next time I see Spider, it’s a few days later and in the most unexpected place.
“Order’s up, Rose,” comes from Archie, the head order cook at Jo’s Diner, a cute replica of a nineteen fifties restaurant. He slides two plates under the heat lamp, one a deluxe burger with a side of spicy fries and the other a side salad with grilled chicken.
I nod, tucking the errant strands of my French braid behind my ears. It’s a weeknight and school’s back in session, along with my part-time job.
Putting the plates on my tray along with drink refills, I hurry the order over to the table where Lexa and Oscar sit, pretending to do homework while they annoy me at work. I place it down in front of them.
Lexa arches a carefully drawn in dark eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “What now?”
“H-E-L-L-O? I need ranch for my salad.”
I blow at the tendrils of hair that have escaped and are tickling my forehead. “You know where it is.” I point to the bar along the back wall of the diner, which is lined with soda dispensers, napkins, and a range of condiments. It’s actually a pretty cool set up. “Get it yourself.”
Oscar snorts. “Yeah, biotch. There are no maids here at Jo’s.”
I send him a grateful nod and move to the table the hostess just sat, one along the windows that line the restaurant.
I blink at the image in front of me.
Spider Wainwright sits in a booth, looking rather bemused and out of place. He’s wearing jeans, a tight Vital Rejects shirt that perfectly accentuates his biceps, and a pair of black Converse.
“You,” I say, pretty much at a loss for anything else.
“Me.” He grins wryly and toys with the menu. Almost shyly, he looks at me, his eyes taking in my bobby socks and Keds, the rolled-up boyfriend jeans, and the black polo with Jo’s red logo of a hamburger. There’s a small apron tied around my waist.
The bobby socks and awful polo are a requirement to work here, and it’s not exactly cute. With a permanent stench of French fries, it’s the un-coolest outfit ever, but on a good night, I can make a hundred in tips alone.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I came to see you.”
He’s here…in Jo’s…and he came to see me.
A flurry of butterflies go crazy in my stomach.
“How did you know I worked here?”
He shrugs. “Father mentioned it when I picked up my things this week.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “He likes you. I can tell by the way he talks about you.”
I stand there, trying to play it cool. “Would you like to order something?”
He looks down at the menu on the table. He’s jittery, his fingers thumping against the table. “What do you recommend?”
I shove my hands in my apron pockets, fingering the cash I’ve collected since I started work tonight. “Our milkshakes are great.”
“Mmmm, yeah,” he says as he stares up at me. His eyes are on my lips.
“Would you like one?”
“What?”
I bite my lip so I won’t giggle. I think I’m distracting him—and I’m not even trying. “A milkshake?”
He looks down at the menu as telltale blush works up his face. “Ah, right. Yes please, a chocolate one. And a hamburger and chips—I mean fries.”
He’s not as cocky as usual, and I’m baffled.
“What’s up with you?” I ask.
He rubs his jaw. “Just thought I’d stop by and see a…friend? That is, if she still wants to be my friend?” His brown eyes are hesitant as he watches me.
“She does.”
He nods. “Actually, I got some good news today, and I wanted to tell you about it.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Rose, order up,” I hear Archie call from the back.
Spider looks around, as if he’s rather surprised to find himself there. “It might take a while to tell you. Can you join me when my order is ready?”
I look around at my packed section. I have a four-top with two frat guys whose order is still cooking and another two-top.
I do get breaks, but never during a rush, and since it’s the first week back from break, everyone is popping into Jo’s to either socialize or grab dinner.
“It’s too crazy in here, but I get off in two hours. We can hang out then?”
Say yes.
I want to talk to him more. I want…
He grimaces. “Damn. I already made plans with some friends I went to school with.”
“Oh? Where are you going? Maybe I can tag along?”
At first I’m surprised by my forwardness, but then I decide it’s okay. Everything with Spider seems so…impermanent, like he can disappear in an instant, so why not put it all out there.
He shrugs. “To a bar downtown.”
“Oh.”
He frowns. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to join me.”
“True.”
Fighting my disappointment, I tell him I need to put his order in and walk away. My path takes me past Oscar and Lexa, who are furiously whispering as I approach. Lexa waves at me, her fingers pointing at Spider, her eyes big as saucers.
Oscar has the menu hiding half his face as he checks him out. Spider waves back, obviously noticing their attention.
Sweet baby Jesus. They are ridiculous.
“Is that him?” Lexa hisses once I arrive at their table.
I flare my eyes at her. “Stop ogling him.”
“Oh. My. God. He is the most beautiful creature ever created. His hair…that tattoo…I want to die. Please, please, please with sugar on top will you introduce us?” Oscar says, holding his hands up in begging motion.
I gaze up at the ceiling in frustration. “You’re old enough to fan-boy on your own. You don’t need my help.”
The bell above the door jingles as Trenton and his teammate Garrett stalk into the diner. Rich, athletic, and attractive, both are prize catches for Claremont. Aria Romero, Trenton’s cousin and first-class mean girl, trails behind them. She’s dating Garrett, who has the kind of face that’s set in a permanent leer, and his eyes are constantly glued to my chest.
They’re the upper echelon of Claremont and I’m on the bottom—not that I care.
“It’s like a J.Crew ad,” Oscar says with a smirk as they waltz in the door and all eyes turn toward them. “So boring. What ever happened to being an individual?”
I tap the jaunty beret he’s wearing. “Not everyone’s as stylish as you.”
Oscar bats his lashes. “Oh, shush, you’ll make me blush.”
Aria’s eyes sweep the room and land on us, making my hands tighten around my tray.
She’s beautiful with curly brown hair, an hourglass figure, and a tongue that can flay a fish. Her eyes are ice blue and arctic.
When I first arrived at Claremont freshman year, she delighted in telling me how sorry she was that I didn’t make the cut for her social club at Claremont. The Claremont Chicks didn’t think my “sketchy background” would fit in with them.
Needless to say, I do my best to avoid her.
“Claremont Bitch Number One is headed our way,” Oscar exclaims, saying it rather loudly as the hostess escorts them further inside. He can’t stand Aria either, and I suspect it’s because she targets anyone who’s a little different from the norm, which certainly includes Oscar. “Let’s all clap.” He starts a slow, insulting clap until I brush at his hands to stop him.
Trenton’s eyes find mine and he waves, his gaze sweeping over me. Blushing, I wave back. Baseball player and all-around nice guy, I’ve talked to him a few times since I returned, but most of it’s been in class.
“Do you think Aria will be nice?” Lexa says as she straightens her shirt.
Oscar groans at her. “Why do you care so much about being in the Claremont Cunts? The school year is almost over.”
He and I fist bump. “Amen,” I say. “I suggest we definitely put Aria on your prayer list. She needs all the help she can get on being a decent human being.”
Oscar snorts at my comment as Lexa reapplies her lipstick and talks around it. “Aria Romero is part of the group that plans Spring Fling. Maybe I want to go.”
I told them about Trenton inviting me. They haven’t been asked yet. Honestly, it won’t be much fun if my friends aren’t there.
I sigh and look at Lexa. “The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, so it’s highly doubtful she’ll be nice.” I pick up their now empty plates and take a step back, anxious to get away before Aria reaches the table. “I’m leaving before she gets here and we find out for sure. Bye!”
I hurry back to the kitchen to get Spider’s milkshake and put in his food order while sending up a prayer that the hostess doesn’t put the new trio in my section.
10
Rose
I come to a halt as I walk out of the kitchen with Spider’s shake and another order for a different table. The hostess is pulling tables together to place Lexa, Oscar, Trenton, Garrett, Aria, and Spider all together. At the same table.
I nearly drop my tray. What did I miss?
I make my way over to them after dropping off the other items, not missing that Aria is sitting next to Spider, closer than Saran wrap, her head bent to his as he looks at something on her phone.
Garrett glares at Spider and Aria, and I wonder if they are on or off this month. Judging by how close she is to Spider, I’m assuming they’re off.
I set the shake down in front of him. “I see you found some…company.”
Oscar grins, sitting on the other side of Spider. “I introduced myself to him”—his eyes dart to Aria—“and then the rest of them insisted on an introduction. Then, Aria suggested we all sit together. Wasn’t that nice of her?”
I look at Aria and she’s smirking. “Didn’t know you had a famous rock star stepbrother, Rose.” She flutters her lashes. “And you probably don’t know this because you’re not from Highland Park, but Spider’s dad and mine used to play golf together.” She shoots a grin at Spider and wags her finger at him. “You had quite the reputation around here back in the day. I remember those crazy stories about you being the party guy—”
“Nice,” I say, cutting her off. “It must be super to be from Highland Park.”
Aria gives me a dark look, but I ignore her and glance at Spider, zeroing in on the part of her commentary that interested me. “Famous?”
Spider clears his throat, a gleam of excitement in his brown eyes. “It’s my big news: our music video is going viral. Sebastian called today to let me know. Not only that, but radio stations are picking it up and
playing our song. It’s nuts.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “I was going to tell you first, but apparently Aria saw it on TMZ tonight and recognized me.” He grins. “It looks like “Superhero” is going to be a big hit.”
Oh.
Amazement fills me, and I smile broadly—just as Aria’s hand touches his shoulder.
My lips tighten.
She gestures to her phone. “Look, I found your video. It already has a million views.” She holds her phone up, and I peer down at the video on YouTube where Spider and his band are playing their “Superhero” song on the rooftop of a high-rise in what looks like New York. Just like from the show, Spider is wearing his blue mink coat and those leopard print bikini underwear, showcasing his six-pack and tattoos. It’s over the top, but so him. I watch as he struts around with his guitar, his body bending and whipping with the music. My eyes trace his sculpted chest, eagerly taking in the finely chiseled V-line where his waist disappears into his pelvis.
He’s sex with a side of hard music. And it makes my heart hammer.
His arm brushes mine as he puts his hand on the table to stand so he can watch it with me. As if my body has a mind of its own, I lean closer to him. “I love that song,” I murmur.
“Do you like it better than “Albatross”?” His voice is warm and right next to me, the heat from his body intoxicating. I know if I turn to face him, our faces would be inches apart.
I lick my lips. “I love “Albatross” because you sing it…and it’s a ballad.”
“I’ll think about you the next time I sing it,” he says softly.
“Yeah?”
“Most definitely.”
It feels as if there’s a current running from me to him, and if I get any closer, if I touch him, I’m going to get fried, but my body doesn’t care. I turn to face him, and it’s apparent we’re invading the other’s personal space, but neither of us seems to care. His eyes peer down at me, his gaze searching mine. My breath stalls. He’s so close to me and for a moment it almost seems as if we’re alone…
British Bad Boys: Box Set Page 52