by Cara Dee
“Because they go in the fucking hamper two feet away,” he snapped. “And you’re one to talk. I accidentally put one of your CDs in the wrong case once, and ever since, I’m not allowed to go near your stereo.”
“That’s how CDs get lost forever!” All it took was one time.
The fucker flashed a grin at me. “See how good we are together? I make sure you put your dirty clothes away, and you keep me in line so no shitty ’90s music disappears.”
Okay, no need to trash-talk my favorite music.
“I’m not sure bickering like an old married couple qualifies as good together,” I muttered into my drink.
Damn. I knew I was getting drunk when I barely tasted the vodka, and I hadn’t skimped on it.
“You know I’m not gonna tell you no, Boone,” I said, downing my drink. “All I’m asking is that we take our time.”
“We will,” he promised. “It’ll be a while before we can afford a house anyway. That’s why I think you should open your heart and let me stay with you. It’ll give us a chance to get used to living together again.”
I groaned through a laugh that felt full of hopelessness. He didn’t get it. By going slowly, I meant I needed space. He couldn’t be around me twenty-four seven. I’d lose my shit. Hell, I’d already lost it. I was screwed. Completely. I’d known for years that there would be no getting over him, so while “taking it slow” was nothing but a feeble attempt at delaying the inevitable, it was all I had. I wasn’t ready to become a basket case yet.
“Hey.” He shifted in his seat to face me better, and he cupped the back of my neck. “Instead of focusing on what we might fuck up, let’s talk about shit we’re looking forward to. Such as throwing Ace a kick-ass birthday party in a few months where her dads aren’t avoiding each other.”
I chuckled and sucked some lime juice off the edge of my thumb.
“Maybe we could go somewhere?” he suggested.
I’d like that. “Sounds good. Just the three of us.”
He smiled and let his hand drop, though he stayed close and dropped his forearms on the table. “Mexico will be nice that time of year.”
It was insane how easily he opened up our future with those words. I could suddenly see all kinds of shit. Vacations, recitals that were about going together instead of just showing up in the same place to watch our daughter, holidays, not having to split a day into two, movie nights, heading over to Ma’s as a family for Sunday dinner…
Mexico was a great idea. “I can think of worse ways to spend a couple weeks than lying on a beach and sipping cocktails.” Plus, Boone in board shorts was fucking pornographic. He got a nice tan too, and his dark hair became bleached as soon as he was near the ocean. “We’ll probably need to throw Ace a children’s party too, though. She’ll want her friends to come over. Ma’s place is better for that.”
Last year, we’d put together a barbecue for Ace and five of her friends, but it’d been a little too cold for the kids. We’d need a better plan this year.
“Or we could turn your living room into a home theater,” Boone suggested. “We’ll need to be indoors, yeah? All we need is a big flat-screen or a projector—and a bunch of takeout and snacks.”
Huh. Not a bad idea at all. “You’re not as dumb as you look, big brother.”
“Fuck you.” He took a beer for himself. “You may see me as some worker bee who will only burn the midnight owl when I have clear instructions to follow, but I’m fucking intelligent.”
I cocked my head and smiled, confused. “The midnight what?”
“What?” He scowled. “You heard me.”
I smirked and told myself not to laugh, but Jesus fucking Christ—oh, I couldn’t. One laugh slipped out, then another and another. Before I knew it, I was fucking howling. The midnight owl— “Ha!” I guffawed. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I clutched my stomach.
“Shut up!” he growled and shoved at me.
“Oh God,” I wheezed through the laughter. “Oh, Boone. It’s—It’s…” I giggled like a fucking schoolgirl and wiped at my eyes. “You burn the midnight oil.”
“What—no, fuck that. How does that make sense? Owls are night creatures. Nocturnal—that’s the word. They’re nocturnal!”
I cracked up all over again, and I gripped his bicep before he could take a swing at me, ’cause I knew that was coming up next if I didn’t calm the hell down soon.
“Are you done?” he griped.
“Almost,” I laughed, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. “I’m trying—don’t hit me.”
He scoffed. “Don’t hit me,” he mocked in a child’s voice. “Ace told me you’ve been bragging about your new muscles. I don’t see ’em.”
That worked. Some annoyance mingled with the amusement, and I lifted my head to glare at him. Only, I couldn’t fucking hold it. I was in too high spirits.
I ended up smiling instead. “Hey, my abs show now, and look—” I flexed my bicep for him.
It bulged like a motherfucker through my shirt, causing the fabric to stretch.
Boone wasn’t impressed. “Cute.”
It was no use. I huffed and poured another drink instead. We couldn’t all burn the midnight owl to look like monster beefcakes.
I snorted a laugh to myself and went bottoms up with my screwdriver. Important to get my shot of vitamin C for the day.
“I’m really glad we came out.” I stifled a belch into my fist. “Oh fuck—this song!” It was as if I’d forgotten there was music at all—until the right tune penetrated the bubble I was in. And the right song would always be “Be My Lover” by La Bouche. It woke me the fuck up, and I started moving to the beat. This was gold.
Boone merely stared at me, amusement tugging at his lips.
I didn’t feel old anymore. I felt…hungry. Invigorated. I couldn’t sit still any longer.
“It’s always the same with you,” he chuckled. “Like a flip of a switch—every single time.”
“Whattaya mean?” I peered closer at him. “I don’t know what you mean, but I reject what you’re saying.”
He laughed. “I just mean, maybe you require more drinks now to get in the mood, but something always sets you off once you’re out.” He paused. “I can’t tell you how many times you pissed me off way back when, when I wanted to drag you out and you didn’t feel like it. ’Cause I knew you’d like it once you got going.”
Oh—because he didn’t know that I was full of it. “I lied to you back then.” I waved him off. Clearly he was wrong, because he didn’t have the whole picture. “I usually wanted to go out, but I didn’t wanna see a bunch of women draped over you, so…” I shrugged.
Was that too honest? I couldn’t be sure anymore.
I scratched my neck and squinted at Boone, finding him smirking at me.
Fucker.
I’d been too honest.
He tilted his head at me, observing me, which wasn’t his style—he wasn’t an observer—and had an annoying little smile playing on his lips. “You wanna hit up a club now? I can get us into Hakkasan if you want.”
I bet he could. He used to work as a bouncer there, when we weren’t on speaking terms.
“How much time do we got left?” I asked.
He checked his watch. “Three hours and change.”
I glanced out at the dance floor. Compared to the ones at Hakkasan, it was pathetic. But this wasn’t a club. It was a bar with a dance floor. Hakkasan, on the other hand, was huge. Five stories. They went all out with light shows and the best DJs in the world.
“I don’t know if it matters these days,” Boone said, side-eyeing me, “but there won’t be any women draped over me.”
Shit. I swallowed hard and quickly poured a double shot of vodka into my glass. Then I squeezed some lime in there before I threw it back. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to answer him. Fuck that. He knew too much already.
“It matters. Let’s go.” There was something wrong with me. I’d just decided not to tell him more,
goddammit. Only one way to get out of this sticky mess, and it was to drink myself into oblivion.
“Good.” He threw back a shot too, and I narrowed my eyes at him. But I forgot why. What was good? That we were heading to a club? Yeah, I agreed. I needed to shake what my mama had given me.
Unfortunately, going to a house club meant there wouldn’t be a whole lot of shaking going on. After closing our tab and taking a cab over to Hakkasan, we got treated like sexy women. Aka, no line, no entry fee. We went straight through, and Boone fist-bumped his buddies at the entrance. We made it past the bars and went to the main club area where a sea of people were jumping up and down to the deafening music. Modern music. House music that shot its heartbeat through us along with a bolt of adrenaline.
A sped-up version of Tiësto’s “Red Lights” pumped through the massive club, accompanied by a light show that matched the beat and the title of the song.
Even though it wasn’t my favorite genre, it kinda took my breath away and sucked me in. Without glancing behind me, without making sure Boone was with me, I surrendered to the pull and lost myself in the crowd.
Holy shit, it’d been too long since I’d done this. It was liberating. Maybe Boone was right. Maybe I still had some hell-raisin’ in me. Red lights traveled across the floor, and smoke billowed out next, followed by red lasers and a bright static that made everything look like life was shot in slow motion.
The only thing missing now was a pair of strong hands on me, but we couldn’t get everything we wanted.
I closed my eyes instead, as the song started morphing into something very familiar, and it plastered a wide smile on my face. Fuck. Yes. Darude, “Sandstorm.” Now, this shit brought me back. It was nothing short of electrifying. The people around me went wild, and the lights changed to blue and neon green. My heart pounded faster than I could jump, sweat beaded across my body, my breaths came out shallow, and my mind swam in flashing colors and alcohol.
I lost track of time and space. The music owned my body, and Boone owned the rest. I didn’t know where he was, but I knew he was close. I felt it in my gut. Knowing him, he’d bought a drink or something. He wasn’t one to lose it on the dance floor.
Thinking about him made my heart squeeze. I’d gone too long without checking in with him, and the new song sealed the deal. An Avicii track. The lyrics told me to live a life that I would remember, to have nights that would never die, and it punched an urgency into me. I swallowed dryly and stopped moving. Everyone around me did the opposite. It was a calmer song compared to the rest, one actually worth dancing to, and I stared blearily at the excitement I was surrounded by.
Then my gaze landed on an unmoving figure. Boone. Spotlights in reds, yellows, and oranges blazed a trail of fire through the crowd, and he was the only one standing still. Watching me.
I smiled, feeling weirdly unsure. I had a knot in my stomach that alcohol usually took care of. It was supposed to.
I maneuvered my way past a group of dancers and their flailing limbs, which were more like weapons, and dodged a couple elbows before I reached him.
I didn’t even try to say something. I could barely hear my own thoughts.
Boone stuck an empty beer bottle into his pocket, then closed the distance between us by gripping my belt. I grinned, wondering if he was actually gonna attempt a conversation here. Spoiler alert, it wouldn’t work. But that didn’t stop him from cupping the back of my neck and dipping down to press his forehead to mine. Seriously, I wouldn’t hear a word— Except, he had no intention of saying anything. He kissed me. His warm lips touched mine softly, one brush, two.
I reeled back as the shock hit me with a sharp twinge, and I frowned. What was he— Fuck. He couldn’t fucking do that to me.
The alcohol made me see things that weren’t there. There was no way he was staring at me with desire. The hesitation in his eyes made sense, not the rest. But when he tried again, all my defenses shut down. He kissed me harder and moved his hands to frame my jaw, to keep me in place.
Don’t hurt me. Asshole.
A sluggish stream of lust started coursing through my system. I collapsed like a house of cards, and I screwed my eyes shut. This was gonna kill me tomorrow, wasn’t it? Not that it stopped me from kissing him back. Even as I kept my hands against my sides, balled into fists, I couldn’t resist kissing him. Oh, fuck me sideways, the lust took over and heated me up, and before I knew it, my traitorous hands were sliding up his chest.
I sucked in a breath and locked my arms around his neck, and he pulled me even closer with a hand on my back. We deepened the kiss at the same time, and when our tongues met, I went off the deep end. There would be no going back. Ever.
Bizarre, absurd, crazy, surreal, unreal, no word was good enough to describe how well and truly he’d fucked up my head now, to stand here in the middle of a nightclub with people bumping into us while I made out with him. My everything.
My lungs burned, and all I did was go deeper. I pushed my tongue into his mouth and kissed him hungrily, desperately, figuring I might as well take as much as I could. Enjoy the ride. Make the night last. Right? The song had told me to chase unforgettable nights.
He gave me an overwhelming, passionate, drugging kiss that cracked my chest wide open, before he started slowing us down. And I felt robbed. Already an addict.
With the last brushing kiss, I forced my eyes open again and found his heavy gaze piercing me. If this was how it was gonna be, he could hurt me forever. I was powerless.
He jerked his chin toward the exit, and I nodded dumbly.
I followed him as the knot in my stomach both grew tighter and doubled in size.
Was I gonna have to remind my brother that he was into women?
Seemed like something people would remember, their own sexuality.
The summer heat outside offered no relief whatsoever, and I could feel my drunkenness shifting over to the part of the night when it was time to wind down. If I drank any more now, I’d just get sick. Maybe I still would. I was starting to get woozy.
I needed to take a leak too. It was a wonder we hadn’t broken the seal yet.
Boone kept walking until we were almost back to the start of the Strip, near the Hershey store. On the last stretch of the side street that was somewhat quiet, he stopped and faced me.
“Can you trust me enough not to ask any questions about this?” he asked.
Uh. “You expect me to let—”
“Yeah.” He took a step closer to me. “I need you to trust me to not hurt you again, but I’m not ready to talk. All I know is that if you walk outta my life again, I’ll be done for. I gotta have you close—ridiculously close, evidently.”
Ridiculously close.
Kinda hard not to feel reassured by that, despite that it didn’t tell me what he actually meant. I folded my arms over my chest, a weak attempt to protect myself, maybe, and I stared at the ground, trying to get my brain to function.
“I know I’m asking a lot, Case.”
I snorted softly. I’ll say. He could push me to invite him to live with me, he could drag painful confessions out of me, apparently he could kiss me too, but I wasn’t allowed to ask anything in return?
Perhaps it didn’t matter. I’d already admitted to myself that I didn’t stand a chance against him.
He came even closer, and it made me hyperaware of his proximity. When less than a foot separated us, I stiffened as he grazed his lips along my jaw. Part of me couldn’t believe it was happening. After so many years of hating my own feelings, of fantasizing about what it would be like to feel his beard tickling my neck, of wondering how it’d be to make out with him, suck his cock, fuck him, get railed by him—shit. I had to stop those thoughts.
“You make me lose my goddamn mind,” he murmured.
I drew an unsteady breath and tilted my face toward his. “Yeah, feeling’s mutual, buddy.”
He smirked faintly right before he captured my mouth in a kiss. It melted me in a second and shot desire d
own my body, but the pleasure was short-lived. The second I closed my eyes, I was overcome by a dizzy spell, and I clutched his arms.
“Shit.” I broke the kiss and swallowed hard.
“You okay?” He looked worried—and a little amused. “I forget you can’t handle your liquor like me.”
“Fuck you.” I stepped away from his personal space and leaned against the wall instead. “You’re a three-hundred-pound sponge.”
He let out a laugh and retrieved his phone. “Two seventy-five, actually. I’m getting us an Uber. You need food and a bed.”
Nope, nope, nope, I needed to barf. I pressed a fist to my mouth as nausea rushed up my throat.
Nine
He offered a hand.
I took his arm.
I couldn’t help it. Being welcomed back into his life gave me a reason to wake up in the morning. I clung to every word he said and watched his lips as he spoke. I registered his body language and every gesture, forcing me to pay attention to his physical appearance. The need kept growing stronger, and my obsession wasn’t going anywhere. I catalogued every feature. His trimmed beard, his intense eyes, the jokes and filth that came from his lips, his arms and thighs, his abs, his runner’s body and sleek muscles, his wolfish smirks and slanted grins.
I was losing it. Fast.
What the fuck was happening to me?
“Shh! Be quiet. I don’t want Ace to wake up.” I took a huge bite of my sandwich and leaned against the wall next to the door.
Boone shook his head and pulled out his keycard. “Then quit yelling.”
I wasn’t yelling. He was yelling.
With the door open, I stumbled inside and kicked off my shoes. The bathroom was right there—it had my name on it. I was as hungry as I was nauseated, so I figured I’d go in there and eat and puke. Rinse and repeat. Then shower. Man, I wanted a shower.
Ma appeared in the hallway, and I smiled widely and went over to hug her.
“Hey, Mom. How you doin’? Have I told you lately how much I love you?”