Flock

by Stewart , Kate

“Hey, Layla,” I say, my gaze back on Sean who’s looking at me in a way that feeds my soul. A look that says we’re still us, and that’s truly what matters most to me. It’s still very much beyond my comprehension that he could be liberal with me and still look at me the way he does. In a hypocritical way, my romantic heart is disappointed he would, that he did. But so far, he’s practiced to the letter what he’s preached. He liberated me that day because he wanted me to have what I wanted. And that’s a different way, maybe Sean’s way of showing affection.

  Not only that, it turns him on.

  A scenario I never saw myself living in.

  But I am, and my heart starts to kick up as we gaze on at each other as though we’re the only two people in the parking lot.

  “Let’s get you a beer,” Layla says glancing over at Sean. “I’m taking her for a minute. Girl talk.” Sean only nods, his eyes still fixed on me, his tongue tracing the ring on his lip.

  She pushes past the wall of men and pulls me into her side as she walks toward the guy manning the keg. He pours us each a beer. And Layla remains quiet as I survey the crowd of at least twenty guys. “What’s going on tonight?”

  “Waiting on Dom, as usual. He takes his fucking time, on no one’s schedule.”

  “Are we late for something?”

  “Not really, a meetup.” She looks me over. “You look good, girl.”

  I tear my eyes away from Sean, who’s now talking animatedly amongst his circle, and study Layla. Her dress coordinates with mine. She’s in jeans and a tee that shows her toned midriff. Her blonde hair is sleeked back in a high ponytail. “Thanks. So do you.”

  “Couldn’t miss that exchange if I was blind. So, Sean, huh?” She gives me a knowing grin.

  And Dom. I hide my flinch at the knee-jerk thought, and she reads my posture.

  She draws her brows. “Undecided then?”

  I take a sip of my beer. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do they…am I?” I shake my head, frustrated. These are clingy chick questions.

  “They?” She reads my face, my posture. “Ah, oh, okay, I got you,” she says through a laugh.

  I just told my secret, in a look, with a single stuttered sentence. A part of me is relieved, the other is horrified I spilled it so easily. I’m not good at this, not at all.

  In truth, I’m relieved. I’ve been bursting at the seams for a little female perspective, other than my own.

  Layla isn’t close to me, so this is as good as it can get. She taps the bottom of my cup, encouraging me to drink. I take a hearty sip and exhale.

  “Okay, first of all, don’t freak out, I’m no saint. Not by a long shot. Second, I’m the vault. Whatever, and I mean whatever, you tell me will never, ever reach anyone else. That’s code. But let’s get some distance to make sure I’m the only one who hears it.” She walks me over to the abandoned side of the garage, where everyone is out of earshot.

  I’m still unsure of what questions I truly want to ask. She helps me by speaking up. “Sean is an open book in a sense. He’s going to be honest with you, about everything he can, even if it hurts. And you won’t have to do too much to try to read into him. Dom, well, he’s a different story. He’s both bark and bite and trust me—you don’t want to be on the receiving end of either one. But he’s got heart, and we’ve all glimpsed it at least once, but rarely twice. He’s literally the male version of Fort Knox, a born loner.”

  I sip my beer and she tilts her head. “What do you really want to ask me?”

  “Am I just another…” one. Just another one. But I can’t bring myself to say it.

  “That I can’t tell you, but from what I’ve seen, the house has been quiet lately.”

  “Quiet?”

  “Dom has been quiet and so has the traffic in his bedroom.” She grins at me. “It started right after the party.”

  Faithful. She means faithful. To me? Before he even had an idea if there was an us? Does it matter?

  The tug in my chest tells me it does.

  “Try not to dwell on it, but look,” she pulls me over to the edge of the garage and scans the gathering. “How many women do you see?”

  I examine the crowd, silently counting. Four, five, and the two of us amongst the twenty or so.

  “There’s a reason you’re here.” The serious lilt in her tone has me searching her face, though I can’t see much due to where we’re standing. “And there’s a time and a place for fraternization and it’s definitely not on meetup nights.”

  “Meetup nights?”

  “You’ll see. But do yourself a favor and keep your wits about you, even though it will be hard. Especially with those two distractions.”

  I nod and she laughs. “Lighten up, girl, it’s a party and you have the attention of two of the finest brothers. Come on.”

  We’re in the midst of crossing the gravel walk when a rumble sounds at the mouth of the driveway and headlights shroud us in light. Bass rumbles from the sleek black car as my eyes drift to the driver. Dominic’s gaze paralyzes me, making me a literal deer in his headlights. He greets me by the twitch of his lips, his eyes sweeping me.

  “Damn, to go back to the beginning again,” Layla sighs wistfully. “I envy you.”

  Dominic stays in his car and with another rev of his engine the party disperses. Shortly after, engines fire up in every direction.

  “Go with him,” Sean speaks up joining me where I stand. I glance his way, frowning.

  “With him?”

  He presses a kiss to my temple. “I’ll see you there. And don’t you dare smudge that fucking lipstick. That’s for me.”

  I nod as he saunters off and round Dominic’s Camaro. He leans over and pushes open the heavy door. The minute it’s closed, I turn to him.

  “He—” my greeting is cut short as we burst out of the parking lot, my laughter filtering out of the car. The hint of a smile unmistakable on his lips as the cars speed out, following us, and Dominic unleashes every bit of horsepower under the hood. Braced with one hand on the dash and the other on the car door, I squeal as we tear down the road.

  This only seems to fuel him as he races down the straightaway for a mile or two before he slows considerably, taking turns, tracing every curve of the road.

  I turn the radio down and he glances at me. “Are we ever going to have a real conversation?”

  One side of his mouth lifts. “We had a good one not too long ago.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Want to start with politics or religion?” He chuckles darkly at my answering scowl before he shifts, pinning me to my seat as we race forward. “Eggs—runny, coffee—black, beer—cold, music—loud, cars,” he floors the gas.

  “Fast,” I say through a laugh.

  “Woman,” he turns and rolls his mirror colored gaze over me.

  Woman, not women. I feel that comment so much I move to grip his hand, and he pulls it away before I reach it.

  “I save that for when I can do something about it.”

  “And you think that’s affection?”

  “Isn’t it?” he takes a turn that has me yelping. That’s exactly what it felt like on the float. Like he’d been waiting for an eternity to touch me.

  He’s the opposite of Sean in a lot of ways.

  It’s not a fault, but something to look forward to.

  “What makes you happy?”

  He takes another turn, his forearm flexing when he shifts. “All of the above.”

  “Runny eggs and coffee make you happy?”

  “What if you woke up tomorrow and there was no coffee?”

  I feel my brows pinch together. “That would…be tragic.”

  “Next time you drink it, pretend it’s the last time you can have it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Great, there’s two of you. Is that some life philosophy? Okay, Plato.”

  “You can discover more about a person in an hour of play than you can in a year of conversation.”
<
br />   I gape at him because I’m pretty sure he just quoted Plato.

  “I was raised in a way I appreciate the small shit.” He looks at me pointedly and it’s then I understand his point fully. I saw the house he grew up in, and it screamed of poverty and neglect. He let me see it. My heart melts some at both his spoken and unspoken admissions as he makes a sudden turn and skids to park, cutting off his lights, leaving us shrouded in partial moonlight.

  I lean up to peer through the windshield and see a crescent moon hovering above us. “Come here,” the order is whispered at my neck as he grips me and pulls me to straddle him, stealing the attention of the moon. I grin down at him as he slinks down in his seat, making enough room for us to fit comfortably between his seat and the steering wheel. The look he’s giving me is enough to make me forget myself. I lean in to claim his lips and he turns his head, dodging my kiss.

  “He likes the red,” he runs his fingers through the hair at the back of my neck down to the ends and repeats the movement, his touch enchanting.

  Something about the comment twists me. In just seconds alone with Dominic, I’d forgotten Sean’s request not to smudge my lips. I try and squelch the guilt as Dominic’s touch travels, inching beneath my T-shirt before he strokes lightly along the waistband of my jeans. The low ache his touch brings ignites the fire in my veins as he gazes up at me, always watching, but relaxed. The pull is undeniable, but he stills my every attempt to touch him, be it by the squeeze on my flesh beneath his fingers or the jerk of his head before he resumes his torture, caressing me everywhere but where I want him.

  “How long have you known each other?” I rasp out while his hands roam up my back past my bra line, cupping my shoulder blades, further warming my skin.

  “Most of our lives.”

  “That close?” I say, rocking a little on his cock, feeling the bulge growing beneath me. The friction is delicious. I can’t help but rotate my hips for more. His eyes heat in response, but he makes no move to do anything about it.

  “We’re all close.”

  “Apparently so.”

  Sudden and loud rumbling drowns out the chirping crickets just before I get an eyeful of cars speeding past Dom’s shoulder. We must have been flying if they’re just now catching up, or Dominic must’ve known a short cut. “They’re leaving us.”

  “We left them.” In the shadow created by the half-moon hovering above, I study him. His eyes glint like pools of silver even under the cover of night, his high cheekbones casting twin shadows on his jaw, his lush lips lit fully, taunting me.

  “And we left them because?”

  “Because,” he lifts up as if he’s going to kiss me, his breath hitting my lips. I brace myself for the feel of it, closing my eyes and leaning in, and then feel his absence. Opening my eyes, I see he’s again resting against his seat, a knowing smirk on his lips.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “That’s not news. Anything else you need to know?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “Sure, you do.” He thrusts up just so, the friction maddening, rendering me senseless.

  “You described most red-blooded men,” I pant. “Cold beer? Ah,” he thrusts up again and this time I feel how hard he’s become, and my blood boils. “Fast cars? Black coffee? Runny eggs and…”

  “And?” He prompts.

  I can’t hide my smile despite the insatiable hunger he’s drawing from me. “Me.”

  “Then you know enough.” He lifts my shirt, revealing my bare breasts, I went braless tonight, and I feel him physically tense when he discovers it a second before he sucks a nipple into his mouth. Panties soaked, I clutch his head to me as he feeds, rocking my hips over his erection, picking up speed.

  “Dom,” I murmur as his fingers explore and he bites my nipple before he soothes it with his tongue. When he pulls away, I’m near orgasm, but he lowers my shirt and stills my hands before again running his fingers through my hair.

  “That was cruel,” I whine, my body on fire.

  “We’ll have to pick this up—later.” With that, he nudges me up enough to grip my hips, easily lifting and placing me back into the seat next to him before he starts the car, backing up the way we came. Intentional or not, I feel the brush of his fingers on my hand just before we speed off in the direction of the others.

  WELL-ORCHESTRATED ANARCHY.

  That’s the only way to describe it when we pull in. A slew of cars are parked in a circle around a story-high, raging bonfire. The rest outline a large clearing surrounded by a forest. Kegs are hauled off trucks by some while others wait ready, tossing bags of ice around them. Music blares from the speakers of a truck as a few more cars pull up and empty. Fifty heads, at a minimum, most gathered in small groups as if there’s some social protocol amongst them.

  “Please give me a straight answer, what in the hell is this?” I ask Dominic as he surveys the yard, pulling dead center into the circle where just enough space was left as if it’s his rightful place in the lineup.

  “Just a gathering of friends.”

  “I don’t have this many friends.”

  “Lucky you,” he says with an edge as he scans the crowd. He dodges my next question by exiting the car and pulls my door open, lifting me to stand with him as I survey the party. Sean meets us at his car, his eyes going straight to my lips, satisfaction brimming in them when he sees they’ve been left untouched.

  “Have fun?” He asks, pulling me into his side.

  “We didn’t,” I can’t meet his eyes, “we didn’t…do—”

  He shakes his head and tips my chin. “That’s not what I was asking.” He drapes an arm around my shoulder and looks over to Dominic. “They’re here. Waiting on you.”

  Dominic dips his chin, his eyes darting to mine before he takes off.

  I immediately look over to Sean as he walks us into the crowd. The scene playing out before us looks like one straight out of From Dusk till Dawn, an old Quentin Tarantino flick, and I half expect fire breathers and half-naked girls dancing on poles to pop up at any moment before the fangs come out. “Are you going to tell me what this is?”

  “It’s a party.”

  “I can see that.”

  He chuckles at the arrival of my mean mug. “Then why are you asking?”

  “Back home we don’t call parties a meetup.”

  “This isn’t the Atlanta suburbs.”

  “No shit.” I look around to see bottles and joints being passed around like free-flowing water before noticing the out-of-state plates on some of the cars. “And not everyone lives here.”

  He nods. “Good eye.”

  “Sean, come on, give me something.”

  He gestures in the direction of an El Camino where two mammoth men sit on the tailgate scanning the party, their faces void of any animation. Clearly brothers, their features similar. “See those two?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s Matteo and Andre, The Spanish Lullaby. Behind them is their crew. They’re from Miami.”

  “They drove here from Miami?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For a party?”

  He nods.

  “Why are they called The Spanish Lullaby?”

  He eyes me. “Use your imagination.”

  “That isn’t scary at all.”

  “I’ve got you, Pup.”

  And I believe him. Sean’s face turns to stone as he dips his chin at the Miami crew when they zero in on us. The lift of their chins barely perceptible.

  “And that group over there,” he points to a truck where one of the guys lands a backflip off the hood of a pickup before downing some Jack Daniels. “That fool is Marcus, and the guy next to him is Andrew. That’s Tallahassee, the rest of Florida, and they’re fucking shysters. So, stay a foot or six away at all times, if you want to keep your valuables.”

  He takes his time walking me around the party, or meetup, or whatever the hell it is, and it doesn’t take long to notice the slew of raven tattoos
marking the arms of everyone in attendance. Some of the girls have a tattoo as well, dainty wings inked on their shoulder blades. A few of them are wearing halters, no doubt to show them off. And it’s then I know those wings are a symbol of possession.

  Sean leads me over to a freshly tapped keg and passes me a beer. I take it, and a sip, preoccupied with the truth behind this party. Sean merges us in with a few of the groups, easy conversation flowing from his lips as I scan others sitting on the edge of their cars, watching the rest of the party. I press up on my toes after a few minutes and lean into Sean with a whisper.

  “Are you in a gang?”

  He tosses his head back and laughs.

  I scowl. “How is that funny?”

  “Do we look like gangsters?”

  “No. Yes. Kind of. Then what is this?”

  “Just a bunch of like-minded people with similar interests hanging out.”

  “With the same tattoo?”

  He shrugs. “It’s a badass tattoo.”

  “Sean,” I grit out impatiently. Though we’re in the midst of a mingling with Alabama, he lifts his chin at Tallahassee and turns to me. “I need to go talk to a few guys. You cool here?”

  Eyes wide, I search his face. “They won’t touch you, Cecelia. You pulled up with Dominic.”

  “And that means what exactly?”

  “It means I’ll be right back.”

  He smiles and shakes his head, moving to abandon me and I grip his arm. “Where’s Layla?”

  “She’s here somewhere. Go find her, and I’ll come get you in a bit.”

  “You’re seriously leaving me here?” I whisper yell. “Alone?”

  He drains his beer. “Yep.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “Is this like a throw her in the deep end thing and see if she can swim test?”

  He laughs. The bastard laughs. “No floaties. Show me that mean mug.”

  Furious, I grip at his arm as he begins to saunter away, and he shakes me off easily. “You’re fine, baby.”

  Pulse rocketing, I scan the party for Tyler, Layla, Russell or anyone I know, and see Sean find Tyler just in front of the raging fire before they both disappear behind a few cars.

  I decide to bite Sean’s testicles the minute I’m able.