by C. M. Owens
“Last I saw you, you were on your way to scout locations for some of Harley’s games to come to life. Find anything?” he asks, leaning up.
“I narrowed the selection down to three that met all her specifications and ensured the pictures weren’t overselling the properties,” I amend. “And it won’t be a relevant achievement for two years because Harley plans two years ahead for events of that scale.”
I glance around again, seeing Alex caught up at another table he also has to tend to.
I really want out of here.
“I sent you some backstage passes you never redeemed,” he tells me.
“I know,” I answer, looking back down at my lap to where my hands are privately shaking.
Those never made any sense to me. Why send them? He was supposed to be angry at me and then learn to be happy about everything else.
He pulls out his wallet, confusing me, and retrieves a folded piece of paper.
“Before I left, I asked someone for a favor,” he tells me as he unfolds the paper. “I knew you’d break down all our issues for someone, and they finally sent me the chart you apparently constructed to prove how wrong we were for each other.”
I eye the table, knowing I definitely can’t crawl under it now. That would be humiliating even for me.
“Harley?” I guess.
“No. Tag,” he tells me as he lays down a version of the chart in his handwriting. “He read it off to me when I was in New Jersey. Apparently you have it showcased on your creative board in your living room.”
I’m not sure why I’m feeling a sense of horror to know he’s in possession of that knowledge. I should feel relieved that he’s taken measures to finally understand why this ended at a stalemate.
“It seems harsher when things are listed out of context. I apologize. You weren’t supposed to ever see that,” I tell him, sincerely wishing Alex would return with my card so I can go.
He scans the chart, lips twitching. “You’re just as harsh on yourself, Britt.”
That’s not true. That chart was just to make other people stop asking the what-if questions so redundantly, but I can’t tell him that.
“The thing about you is that you’re honest, and the biggest problem is that you can’t be honest with me because I have subpar listening skills and grow immediately defensive when faced with even minor critique and/or criticism,” he goes on, pointing at the section of chart that does indeed list that as a severe issue.
Oye, I really do want to hide.
“In the severe column, one of your problems is that you can’t quickly adjust to new scenarios and need time calculating new odds before committing to a large decision when it’s not an obvious good life choice.”
I say nothing, just tapping my foot.
Relief fills me when the leather folder is returned to the table. “Thank you for dining with us, Ms. Sterling,” Alex says before hurrying off to another table while I quickly fill in and sign the appropriate spots.
“I was a shit life choice to make three months ago. I get the hesitation now, and you were right,” he tells me as I put my card up. “You saw me spiraling, and instead of becoming my crutch, you decided to be my anchor.”
My eyes come back up, landing on his as he studies my face with an impassive expression.
“I thought I was teaching you to walk, while you were busy learning to fly,” he goes on, eyes serious.
“I should go,” I tell him as I close my purse at last. “I’m happy that you’re happy, Base.”
“I know you are,” he says quietly as I stand, his eyes staying on me as I do.
“Good luck with the next phase of your life,” I add, remaining as calm as possible as I start to head toward the door.
His hand gently snatches my wrist on my way by, and I swallow down the sound that tries to escape. His touch elicits that dormant heat he always ignites. Why? Just why?
I don’t fight or move—remaining still as his thumb smooths up the inside of my wrist. My head turns so I can look down at him as he stares at my hand.
“The chart points out the most obvious difference between us at the very top. I think with my heart; you think with your head.”
I nod in agreement, since he seems okay with that assessment.
He doesn’t look at me to see the nod, but he must catch it in his peripheral as he brings his other hand over to toy with my fingers.
Innocent touch has never existed with him. Each touch, no matter how innocuous it would be with anyone else, elicits too many illogical and improbable sensations.
His gaze swings up to meet mine, and I sway toward him as if I have no control.
“The past three months have taught me to think more with my head. It’s your turn to meet me in the middle when you’re ready,” he says, still holding onto me.
An irrational bereft feeling chills my bones when I wriggle free of his grip, and he lets me go easily enough, though his eyes stay on mine.
“I unknowingly did that already,” I tell him with a false mildness to my tone.
Steeling my knees, I add, “It’s not you who’s the problem, Base. I’m still not able to handle conflict, and any serious romantic entanglement demands the ability to resolve conflict in order to remain healthy. I’m simply not ready for that, and it’d be unwise to end up in the same place all over again, despite the best intentions, when we’ve already learned what we needed to from our parting. I think it’s best to focus on moving forward in our own separate paths now.”
I walk away before he can formulate any sort of argument, because he’s much better at this than I am.
“Says the girl who just handled impromptu conflict,” he calls out.
I pause, turning to look back at him, ignoring the curious eyes on me.
“Harley fills my head with the what-ifs. I was actually prepared for this particular conflict,” I say before walking out the door.
I quickly hand my ticket to the valet, and I make the mistake of glancing back, my subconscious working my reflexes before I can actively stop them.
Base is staring directly at me, and a small smile turns up one corner of his lips…as though he knows I didn’t mean to look back.
I jerk my head back toward the front when my car is quickly brought around, and I actively work on not looking at him again as I get in and start driving home.
His new song comes on the radio to torment me farther, and I hear the lyrics I know by heart.
I was the boy who didn’t understand the talk, too busy overlooking the reasons why. I was foolishly teaching her to walk, while she was learning to fly.
He essentially quoted that to me, which makes this song feel too real, or it makes his words feel cheap and generic. Either way, it’s not healthy to dwell, so I shut off the radio and drive home in silence, trapped with the lingering sensations only he leaves behind with his touch.
It’s a blur of motion until I’m pushing through my front door and heading directly to my bathroom to do my unhealthy thing of seeing his toothbrush under the counter. It’s still in the sealed bag, so it’s not too unsanitary.
I sit down in the floor and just look at it, unsure why I keep doing this to myself.
Taking a deep breath, I pull the baggie out, stand up, and toss it into the trashcan. Then I pull it out and toss it back under the sink, because I’m not quite ready to part with it.
“Tomorrow will be easier,” I tell myself as I let my eyes shut.
Chapter 38
BRITT
Three days with no Base sightings should be good news. Except…everyone is talking about how different he is. Apparently he’s turned into a bit of a social butterfly since returning, instead of a hermit artist who doesn’t really find the rest of the world all that appealing.
Fortunately, tonight is a black-tie event hosted by Wren’s mother. Base rarely ever gets mentioned at these things.
Two large, round tables are reserved for us as we leave the silent auction room and head into the banquet roo
m.
I don’t make enough money yet to competitively bid on anything here, but I still enjoy the learning experience.
My mind blanks when I come to an abrupt halt, spotting what has to be an illusion, because even that probability is higher than Base Masters actually wearing a tuxedo. Concussions can cause hallucinations, but I don’t remember receiving blunt-force trauma to my head.
Loss of memory is a symptom as well. I could be experiencing a concussion and not remember to look for the symptoms.
He’s talking to Tag, and Tag is smiling as he claps his cousin’s shoulder. I turn very sharply and go to find our table, because now I know what he’s doing. He’s using my relationship chart against me, and he’s probably very aware of the fact he looks good doing it.
He’s supposed to sulk in corners in places like this and talk about how much he hates it. Not shake hands with people as Tag introduces him—
I slam very hard into a body, and hands go to my shoulders to quickly steady me.
“Ah, Ms. Sterling,” Vince Jaggons says as he pulls back and looks me over.
He’s wearing a bowtie on top of a T-shirt with just a blazer. The odds are that he’s also wearing leather pants.
“Sorry,” I blurt out, eyes widening. “I didn’t see you.”
“That’s because you were looking behind you while walking forward. Usually we walk toward the things that ensnare our attention so thoroughly,” he tells me with lips twisting in a grin.
I nod in agreement, and then look down at my shoes. Huh. No leather pants after all. I’m not sure what that fabric would be called, to be honest.
“You sent me with a group of boys, and so far they’re shaping into possible men. Good eye. If you want to switch industries, make sure I’m your first call,” he adds, bringing my attention back up.
“Are you seriously pitching to my prodigy?” Harley says as she walks up.
“Of course. I’m a businessman too. Her mind isn’t limited to just some games,” he tells her on a scoff.
Harley shakes her head. “I called dibs. She’s mine. I’m not giving her up either.”
I’m not sure why I smile, but I do. Vince nudges me on his way by. “When you no longer feel challenged, give me a call. It’s rare to find a keen appreciation for artistry existing in a mind already so brilliant.”
My smile only grows, because he’s actually really good at being nice.
“She’s in the middle of developing her first game, and it’s challenging enough,” Harley says as she grabs my hand and starts dragging me away.
I hear Vince laughing from behind me, and I let Harley guide me to our table.
“Your father was working his charm on Britt so he could steal her from me,” Harley tattles to Bo the second we sit down.
“But Britt isn’t really into music like that,” Bo says like she’s confused.
I tune them out as they carry on, and I let my eyes wander back to Base.
Vince is with him now, and they’re talking to someone who is probably really important to the music industry. I assume that’s why they’re here.
Exhaling a little easier, no longer feeling like this is directly related to me, I drink from my water glass as the dishes start being delivered to tables.
I lose sight of Base as our table fills up, noticeably lacking Ash and Tag. Presumably, they must be sitting with Base, wherever he is.
My eyes scan the vast room of their own accord as everyone eats, and I absently eat my own food as each course is served.
“What’s the cake going to be like tonight?” I ask.
“Finally, she speaks!” Maverick says, arching an eyebrow at me.
“You have been quiet,” Rain points out, eyes darting in a direction behind me before coming back down.
Ah, so he’s behind me and has probably noticed me looking around for him. It’ll appear as though I’m sending mixed signals.
I worked so hard on losing my virginity that I never considered I’d need preparation for what happened if things ended with emotional attachments I swore not to form.
“And she’s done talking because you pressed,” Salem says as she elbows Maverick.
I glance down and start idly folding my cloth napkin like it’s paper origami.
“Cakes are coming out, Britt,” Bella says from the other table.
Harley and Dale get up to go dance, and I spot the dessert trays that are starting on the opposite end of the room. They’ll be out of the chocolate before they reach us. No one ever orders enough chocolate at these things.
“Oh, shit,” Maverick says under his breath.
I don’t get a chance to look over or ask him what’s wrong, because a small plate of chocolate cake comes down on the table in front of me as Base slides into Harley’s seat with his own slice.
Sitting straighter in my chair, I cast a worried look at Base as he smirks and hands me my unused fork.
“I remember you saying they never order enough, so you always get it early,” he tells me as I take the fork from his hand.
“Thank you,” I state on autopilot.
“So you came to your first black-tie affair to stalk Britt?” Kode asks him dryly, as his arm goes around Tria’s chair.
Tria rolls her eyes and elbows him in the side. He doesn’t flinch. In fact, he looks positively lethal.
They all stare at Base, which forces my eyes to drop to the cake, because I can feel the conflict brewing and I don’t want to be part of it.
“The cake is actually the best part,” I remind everyone.
“Nah. That’d just be creepy,” Base says like he’s answering Kode. “Tag asked me to come, since I was in town, so I did.”
“How convenient,” Maverick drawls.
I bristle in my chair. They don’t usually do this with me so close.
“I decided on a more reasonably sized phallus. One that needed surprisingly large batteries,” I tell Corbin and Maverick.
Bella chokes on her drink, and Ethan buries his face in her neck as his body shakes.
“Dance with me,” Corbin tells Ruby as he glares at me a little.
Ruby nods, working to keep a straight face as she stands and goes with him.
Dane walks off like he just can’t sit here any longer.
Maverick and Kode act like they’re about to say something else, when I say, “I think we should dance. Watch my cake.”
I stand abruptly, and Base just grins as he waggles his eyebrows at Maverick and slowly stands.
His fingers lace through mine without warning, and he leans over. “Fair warning, I’m really bad at this,” he tells me. “It’s outside my comfort zone.”
“I know what you’re doing,” I tell him as his arm slides around my back, pulling us much closer than is considered appropriate for a waltz.
One of my hands goes to his, and my other comes up to his shoulder, barely touching him.
“What am I doing?” he asks.
“Even I know that’s a cheap version of a coy grin,” I point out as his lips just turn up more. “You’re attempting to render all points of conflict irrelevant, but that’s impossible.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m just growing the fuck up, Britt. That’s all I’m doing.”
It’s so hard to ignore how good it feels to have him pulling me closer and closer until we’re essentially just swaying on the dance floor.
He drops my hand, curling his other arm around my waist, and both my hands slide to rest on his chest as I stare at him.
“You held back because we were supposed to be temporary,” he says as he starts moving me backwards.
“I held back because I knew I wasn’t really fucking good enough,” he goes on.
“That’s not what—”
“Careful. That’s starting conflict by arguing with me, Britt,” he chides, smirking as I blow out a breath.
“You avoid conflict because it makes it really hard to keep the emotions out of things, and you get too emotional to conduct yours
elf in a comfortable way when conflict gets intense.”
“I know,” I inform him, wondering why he’s telling me things I’ve already determined about myself long ago.
“Which is why we’re having this conversation bit by bit until we finish it. We’ll just talk as much as you’re comfortable with until you trust me enough to try this thing for real,” he adds.
I freeze against him, and he smirks.
“I was both right and wrong, Britt. You were also right and wrong. At the end of the day, you’re eventually going to realize you’re fucking terrified of this because you can’t shut the emotions out with me, even when conflict isn’t involved. I don’t let you.”
I start to push away, but he keeps his arms around me.
“I don’t coddle you, because I know you’re capable of a hell of a lot more than you seem to think you are; you just keep holding back,” he goes on so casually. “It’s what you loved and hated about me, if you’re being honest. And it’s why you wanted to stay friends.”
“We’re not friends,” I remind him.
“Sure we are,” he goes on, lips tugging up in the grin again.
He leans down, lips brushing mine just enough to send my body into a flurry of wild reactions. “You’ll eventually realize you’re just being stubborn, and if I’m lucky, you’ll come to me. In the meantime, I hear there’s an opening for a friend with benefits.”
My head reels back, and I…just gape at him.
“We can’t do that.”
“We already did that,” he reasonably points out. “Technically, it’s all we did, and we did that part very well, so why couldn’t we do it again? Unless you’re admitting that you have unresolved feelings for me you’re too scared to face and that’s really what’s holding you back.”
He lets go when I push at him this time, but he snags my hand before I can walk away. “I love you, Britt,” he says like it’s the most casual, effortless thing in the entire world to say.
The harp player misses a chord before stopping abruptly, and I feel a lot of eyes on us. I can’t seem to tear mine away from his to look around the room, though.
“I moved myself into your house when I liked your eyes. Now I love you. Do you really think I’m just going to throw in the towel while you’re fighting me because you’re scared? I’m a little more stubborn than you, Britt. In a battle of wills, I’ll win.”