She turned in his arms, and looked up at him, her breathing ragged. The room was teetering and she clutched at his shirt. He was staring down at her, his eyes hooded, his own breathing increased. Then his mouth was on hers. She didn’t know who had moved first, only that his tongue was in her mouth, melding with hers, setting her on fire. They were in the middle of a crowded dance floor, but she didn’t care. She’d never consciously thought about kissing him before, but he was so familiar. He tasted like mint and sunshine and she pressed herself closer to him, drinking him in.
But just as quickly as it started, he pulled his mouth from hers. His breathing was labored as he stared down at her, watching her chest heave in and out.
“We should probably go,” she said, shakily.
He nodded then shook his head, releasing a breath as he ran a hand over his head. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the exit.
The wet night air greeted her when she stepped outside and she took a deep breath. Her thoughts were slurred, her mind murky. She knew what had just happened changed things in a way that she didn’t want to think about. She’d never, ever crossed the line with Brian, ever. But she couldn’t really analyze it adequately right now anyway. Damn deceptive daiquiri. The street was still buzzing with activity and she tried to steady herself, grabbing onto nothing as she nearly stumbled.
“Careful,” Brian said, catching her just before she tripped over her feet.
The people were starting to melt into each other and she took a deep breath hoping the fresh air would somehow bring about sobriety. It didn’t.
“Come on,” Brian was saying as he grabbed her hand.
She thought it seemed like he was leading her back to her hotel. She followed after him, concentrating on walking straight. Within a few minutes they were walking through her hotel lobby, headed toward the elevators.
“You okay?” he asked once they were inside. She was leaning against the wall and she blinked and nodded. “I’m good.”
“I feel bad. You’re pretty drunk.”
She shook her head. “No, no. I’m not that drunk. And don’t feel bad. That was so much fun…well, before… and even that was fun…” She paused shaking her head. “I mean… I just… I felt… free. I love New Orleans and I love jazz and I love dancing with you. Are you drunk?”
“I’m… not as drunk as you.”
He chuckled and shook his head as the elevator dinged open. He grabbed her hand again and led her to her room. She got the door open and stepped inside, turning as he hesitated at the door.
“You have to come in. I have something for you.”
She rushed inside, nearly tripping and turned on the light before crossing the room to the desk and grabbing the brown paper bag that contained the Bill Wither’s record she’d bought for him. She’d found it a vintage record shop on her way to the show and even though it had made her almost twenty minutes late, she had to buy it. Bill Withers was his favorite artist of all time, as weird as that made him for being only twenty-five. She guessed they were weird together though. Stevie Wonder was hers.
He’d stepped inside, though he was still lingering by the door, and she handed him the bag.
“That’s for you.”
He eyed her then peered inside. He pulled the record out and looked at her grinning in what looked like awe, or amazement. She didn’t know why. It’s not like she was giving him the secret code to the cure for cancer.
“I found it on my way to the show in an old record store,” she explained dismissively.
“Thank you,” he said. His eyes were hooded as he looked at her.
“You’re welcome.” The room was spinning again, so she closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall.
“This is probably one of the coolest things anyone has ever gotten me.”
She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Then you really need to meet some better people,” she teased.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Seriously, this was really sweet of you.”
“Well, you’re seriously welcome.”
They stared at each other for long minute. His eyelashes were really long. Had they always been that long?
“Your eyelashes are really long,” she blurted.
He grinned and shook his head. “You should lie down.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her off of the wall toward the bed.
She followed without protest and sat down, scooting so that her back was against the headboard. She watched as he walked into the bathroom. He emerged a few seconds later with a plastic cup of water.
“Drink this,” he said, handing her the cup as he sat down next to her.
She nodded obediently and picked up the cup, taking a large swallow. It was cool and sweet on her tongue and she knew she was probably slightly dehydrated.
“Thank you,” she said. She blinked because his face was getting blurry and smeary again and she handed the cup to him, watching as he sat it on the nightstand.
“I’m gonna go,” he said.
“You can stay if you want... HBO is here.” Her eyes drifted closed.
He was quiet for so long she opened her eyes to see if he was still there.
“I really should go,” he said when she looked at him.
“You sure?”
“No,” he chuckled and she peered at him, confused, watching as he ran a hand over his head.
“Destiny… you don't even know…” He stopped and shook his head.
“Know what?” she asked, her brain to muddled to really process much.
“Nothing,” he said, his voice sounding strained. He pushed out a breath. “I’ll see you in a week.”
She nodded, her eyes still closed. “Brian?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t believe we kissed.”
He chuckled and she opened her eyes again. He stared at her with that intense look then leaned forward and kissed her cheek, lingering for a long second.
“I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes.
“See you in a week.”
She opened one eye as he brushed his finger down her nose and then pushed off the bed and walked to the door.
“Text me when you get on the plane,” she called out as she closed her eyes and snuggled up to her pillow.
The sound she heard was the door clicking closed.
Chapter 4
Destiny flipped onto her back, stretching her legs out on her purple futon. She dropped the remote control she was holding soundlessly onto the floor, and gazed up at the ceiling, bored out of her mind. Nothing was on TV. She had an assignment from Pitch.com but didn’t feel like writing it, and she’d finished writing her piece on the Jazz Festival a couple of days ago. It was ten-thirty on a Friday night and she was at home. Alone. How lame.
The week had flown by after she’d gotten home from New Orleans. Things at work were pretty much the same. The only good thing was Gabe had informed her that her Jazz Festival coverage would be the lead music feature for May. It was her first major feature and she almost broke out into the cha-cha slide when he’d called her into his office to let her know. Even Philly couldn’t kill her vibe that day.
Now it was Friday night and she was at home, bored. Usually she tried to work. There was always some show or work related event to attend. Occasionally she would grab a drink with Jason or Amy from work, because Dorian usually spent his Fridays with whatever girl he was seeing at the moment. She thought about calling Amari, but honestly didn’t feel like being bothered with him. He was probably out already anyway.
She released a sigh and tapped her foot against the futon. She was restless. And she knew why. Brian would be in Miami tomorrow. She’d woken up in utter panic the day after he left. They’d kissed and nothing was going to be the same again ever. Even now, she squeezed her eyes shut, her cheeks heating at the way that she’d acted with him. In the nearly fifteen years she’d been friends with him, they’d never even remotely come close to crossing
the line. And now… well, she didn’t even know.
Her phone buzzed and she reached blindly for it under the futon where she had dropped it earlier. She brought it close to her face and read the text.
“Gangstas don’t die they get chubby and they move to Miami, I moved to Miami…”
She laughed aloud, even as her heart started beating faster. She wondered if Brian was actually already in town. He wasn’t supposed to be arriving until Saturday. She quickly returned the text.
“Brian. Don’t ever quote Lil Wayne to me ever again in life. Seriously. Ever. Where are you?”
She lay flat on her back still staring at the ceiling, trying to will her breathing to slow the hell down. She’d decided earlier in the week, after he’d called her and talked to her like nothing had happened, that she would just try to keep it casual too. Maybe they could pretend like they hadn’t mauled each other in New Orleans. She still couldn’t believe they’d kissed. It was a drunken kiss in the middle of the club, but they’d kissed. Their relationship thrived on the fact that no lines were ever crossed. That they were really just friends, no matter what anyone else assumed. But now that wasn’t the case. They’d kissed and things were going to be weird between them.
Her phone rang and she saw his name pop up on the screen.
“Since when don’t you like Lil Wayne?” Brian asked the second she answered.
“Are you here?” she asked, ignoring him.
“Yep, got here a couple of hours ago.”
He had rented a truck and driven down from Phoenix. She was supposed to be going over to Dorian’s to help him set up when he got into town Saturday. She sat up on the futon and frowned at the blank TV screen.
“Me and D and Nathan just finished moving everything in.”
“Oh, okay” she said, lying back down on her back. Nathan was Dorian’s co-worker and he hung out with them a lot. She looked at the ceiling, willing her heart to be calm. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe they really could pretend like nothing happened.
“You’re probably tired,” she said, biting her lip.
“Actually, I’m kinda wired.”
She sat up again, and swung her legs off of the futon.
“Really?” she asked disbelievingly. He’d just driven for two days and he was wired?
“Yeah, kinda. What are you doing?”
“Just sitting here, bored out of my mind.”
“Feel like going out?”
“Where?” she asked warily, standing and walking down her narrow hallway toward her bedroom, passing the pint-sized kitchen on her left and bathroom on her right. Her place was really small, but comfortable.
She flicked the light on in her room, bent over and picked up a pair of shorts she’d lazily thrown on the floor, tossing them in the laundry basket that was sitting in her open closet.
“Does it matter?” he asked, chuckling. “You should just be excited to see me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know I am overwhelmingly, exceptionally, super-duper, extra excited to see you, Brian,” she said exaggeratedly. “I’ve spent all week doing nothing but eagerly anticipating your arrival.”
He laughed. “Good.”
“So, where are you trying to go?” she asked, perching herself on the edge of her bed.
“Dorian said something about some K-Bar or L-Bar or something.”
She hesitated. She was bored, but she really didn’t feel like going to a bar, especially on South Beach, and being bothered with a bunch of people. And she didn’t know what it would be like when she saw him.
“We’re coming to get you,” he said abruptly when she remained silent.
“I dunno, Brian…” she fretted.
“Tweet, I’ve only been here for two hours,” he said sternly, “you can’t start flaking on me already.”
She grinned and shrugged as if he could see her through the phone.
“Fine. But I’m not drinking any strawberry daiquiris.”
He chuckled. “We’re on our way.”
She hung up and rushed to her closet to find something suitable to throw on. Dorian only lived ten minutes away, so she didn’t have time to be indecisive. She grabbed the pair of jeans Raven helped her pick out on her last visit (because Raven said they made her ass look hot) and a black spaghetti-strapped shirt she usually reserved for barhopping.
She quickly took off the old, oversized sweats and t-shirt she’d been wearing and got dressed. She put her hair up in a bun, leaving tendrils to hang down the back of her neck and put a pair of small studs in her ears. She’d barely finished with a light application of makeup before she heard a loud knock at the door. She slipped into her sandals and went to open the door, peering through the peek hole before flinging it open.
“I’m not staying out really late,” she told him, placing a hand on her hip and stepping aside so that he could come in.
He grinned and shook his head, shutting the door behind him.
“You really need to learn the proper way to greet me,” he said, with a crooked grin, his eyes sweeping over her.
“What’s the proper way?” she teased, trying to remain casual even though her heart was in her throat.
The light blue polo he had on made his chocolate complexion look even smoother. His NEEMA tattoo was peeking out from under his sleeve. He grinned and reached out, pulling him to her before she could even react and wrapped her in a tight hug. His light stubble scratched her cheek and he smelled so good, like soap and man and just… him. His fingers teased down the back of her spine, and she inhaled, warmth spreading through her. He released her after a few long seconds and she backed up, a little shaken. His expression was intense as he stared at her. Shit. This was going to be weird.
“That’s a little better,” he said finally, his baritone husky. “You ready? D’s waiting in the car.”
She released a breath, still studying him. “Yeah, let me grab my purse. Nathan isn’t with you guys?”
“Nah, I think he had a date or something.”
She moved away from him toward her bedroom.
“Get your iPod too,” he said following her. “If I have to hear another Rick Ross song I’m gonna throw Dorian’s shit out of the window.”
She grinned. “I like Rick Ross.”
“So do I, but not for five hours straight.”
She laughed. She was all too familiar with Dorian’s unbridled love for the rapper. “It’s over there,” she said pointing to the small desk that was pushed into the corner of her room.
He reached behind her laptop and grabbed it, stuffing it into his pocket. Destiny quickly gave herself a once over in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her closet door, brushing her hair up with her fingers. It was already getting on her nerves.
“You look good, Tweet,” Brian said, pulling her away from the mirror and lightly pushing her out of the bedroom.
She rolled her eyes.
“Thanks, Brian, I feel so much better about my appearance now,” she retorted dryly, heading toward the front door.
He grabbed her hand abruptly, halting her and turned her to face him. She paused, eying him. He took a step toward her, still holding her hand.
“I mean it. You look really, really good, Destiny,” he repeated deliberately, without a trace of amusement in his voice.
His eyes swept slowly over her, from her eyes, to her lips, to the curve of her breasts and the sweep of her hips, then back up.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice low.
Her heartbeat accelerated and she quickly backed up, releasing his hand. She bit her lip, unable to breathe normally. He grinned, cocking his head to the side slightly, still waiting for her to respond.
She nodded quickly. She wasn’t completely sure she was able to speak. Her pulse was still racing and her breathing was hitched. What the hell was going on? Why was he flirting with her still when they were supposed to be pretending like New Orleans never happened?
“Come on,” he chuckled, motioning for her to follow
him.
Somehow she willed her feet to move. He waited while she turned and locked up and then followed her down the steps to Dorian’s car.
* * *
Destiny was silent in the car. Hell, she couldn’t have spoken even if she’d known what to say. She kept replaying the last twenty minutes over and over again in her mind, trying to make sense of what was going on with her and Brian. He was acting cool and casual, like always, but he was flirting with her too. If he’d just stuck to the unspoken plan and tried to act the way they always did with each other, friendly, maybe things could get back to normal. But now, she didn’t know what was going on.
She bit her lip and looked out of the window, watching the headlights from traffic whip by in the opposite direction. She took a breath and tried to calm herself. She was panicking.
“Tweet, what the hell?” Dorian was asking her, his dimples indenting both cheeks as he frowned.
She was seated in the passenger seat and looked over at him.
“Sorry,” she managed. “What’d you say?”
He glanced at her, still frowning before looking back to the road.
“What’s up with you?” he asked, eyeing her again. “And what the hell is this shit you got me listening to?”
He glanced in the rearview mirror, shaking his head at Brian who was in the backseat.
“It’s Portishead,” Destiny answered, finally finding her voice.
Dorian rolled his eyes and looked over at her again.
“This emo shit is not what you listen to before you go out. You’re killing my vibe.”
Destiny shrugged. It was definitely what she considered “clean up the house music,” mellow and layered. But she’d been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed it was on.
He kept one hand on the steering wheel and reached over, snatching her iPod out of her hand. He skipped until E-40 came blaring out of the speakers.
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