by J. Saman
“Do you think that was a mistake?” she asks, spooning a bite of hot-fudge-covered vanilla into her mouth.
I bark out a laugh. “You ask that now?”
She shrugs and then winces at the pull of her smarting skin.
“No. I don’t think it was a mistake. Are you going to tell your dad?”
She nods, running her spoon through her melting dessert. “I’ll show him when I go home for Thanksgiving.”
“Will he be pissed?”
Lyric lets out an indignant snort. “It would be hypocritical as hell if he was, considering it’s his song and he’s already covered in tattoos.”
“What about your mom?”
“Not much she can say. I’m twenty-one. I’m an adult and I made the choice with my eyes open. I don’t regret it. I don’t think I ever will. It’s not something I have to look at every day and grow tired of.”
“I doubt I’ll ever get one. Your song feels different because it’s timeless and was written for you by your father. But nothing in my life feels like forever, and the things that could aren’t worth making permanent.”
“Wow,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching up, her eyes glowing. “That’s pretty damn depressing, Jameson. Maybe you should have ‘nothing lasts forever’ inked on your chest.”
I laugh, reaching across the table and swiping her spoon before I take the dollop of ice cream and shovel it into my mouth.
“Hey. That’s mine.” She tries to grab at my spoon, but I’m faster than she is and I shove them both in my mouth, making a show of licking them, moaning as I do. “Gross.” She scrunches her nose up in disgust. Standing up, she reaches over and yanks one of the white plastic spoons from my mouth before dropping it back into her ice cream, scooping some up and then popping it into her mouth.
“Not so gross then, baby. You’re sucking on my spit.”
“And I’m sure I’ll need a series of shots and antibiotics as a result.”
“Such a brat. I thought you were an OCD germaphobe.”
She shakes her head, licking the spoon I just had in my mouth. I like that she’s essentially, willingly, eating me. It’s like kissing her without the drama and causalities. “I’m not a germaphobe. I just like things the way I like them. That does not make me OCD.”
“Fine. A control freak.”
“That I’ll give you. But you know, the world would be a better place it if it were run by control-freak women.”
“I can’t argue with that. I always like it when women try to control me. Especially when they fail.”
She rolls her eyes at me, reluctantly smiling around the spoon we just shared.
“Next week is Thanksgiving. Three weeks after that we have finals.”
I nod, unsure where she’s headed with this.
“We don’t have any classes together next semester.”
Ah.
“Nope. You’ll be rid of me and my dependence on your brilliance.”
“That’s a shame. I was just starting to really like Travers. Even Cane is growing on me.”
Brat. “When do you leave for Thanksgiving?” I ask changing the subject away from my roommates.
“Tuesday after class. Why, do you need a lift home?”
“Are you driving?”
“No.” Her cheeks color and I love it when she blushes. She doesn’t do it often, but when she does, it’s freaking awesome. “My dad’s coming to pick me up.”
“In a private jet?”
She nods, her attention suddenly very focused on her ice cream.
“Damn. That makes me wish I was going home instead of to Cane’s for the holiday. We already bought our plane tickets.”
“I thought you worked things out with your stepmom?”
“About Christmas. Not about Thanksgiving.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. I would have invited you home with me.”
“Nah. I’m good with going home with Cane. He lives in New York City, but I doubt we’ll leave the city. We’re only there for three days. I’ll catch up with everyone from home during Christmas break.”
“Thank you for coming with me.” She looks up at me, her eyes bleeding with sincerity. “I know sitting there like that for so long wasn’t your idea of fun, but it means a lot to me that you were there. I’m not sure I could have done it on my own.”
I reach across the table and take her hand. “Anytime you want to get half naked and have a man ink your body, I’ll be there.”
She laughs, but it’s not her real laugh. It’s an uncomfortable, possibly embarrassed laugh.
“In all seriousness, you’re my girl, Lee. I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for you.”
She squeezes my hand and I squeeze hers back. We fall silent, reveling in this magic flashing between us. Completely unsure where it could possibly lead us.
Chapter 6
Lyric
* * *
Christmas is in three days. Three. The semester ended this afternoon after our advanced corporate finance final. I happen to know that both Jameson and I aced it. I’d be willing to bet that Cass did as well, since the three of us studied our asses off for it. But now the semester is done and we don’t have to be back at school again until January third.
Typically, I’d be thrilled. But not this year.
My dad decided to go on a limited tour and that has him in Australia at the moment. They invited me to go with them, but they’re going from Australia to New Zealand to Southeast Asia and back to California, all in the span of ten days. It’s going to be one hotel after another. More days and hours of travel than I care to think about. It’s not like we’ll be celebrating the holiday as a family because Melody is with her boyfriend’s family and my dad has a show both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
So, I opted out.
But I didn’t want to go home, either. That just felt too depressing to me. Right now, I’m sort of regretting that decision. The dorm closes tonight. As in, no students are allowed to stay on campus over the holiday break. Most of the students are already gone, including the few friends I have. Which is why I’m in the process of standing outside the nicest hotel in town. That’s not saying a lot. It’s really just a glorified motel. I’m not a snob. I’m not, I swear. But I wouldn’t mind a spa where I can get a massage. Or being pampered with room service and indulging on chocolate and alcohol from the mini bar.
This hotel has none of that.
So yeah, I’m a bit depressed.
A horn blares from behind me, startling me out of my reverie. I move toward the mechanical doors, pulling my suitcase behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?” a familiar voice yells out and I roll my head over my shoulder to catch Jameson, leaning across the passenger seat of his car, staring at me like I’m crazy through the window.
“What the hell are you doing? Heading to the airport?”
He shakes his head. “My flight was canceled. They’re getting snow up in Connecticut, so I decided I’m not going.” I furrow my eyebrows, spin around and walk over to his car. I let go of my suitcase and prop my forearms across the bridge of the lowered window.
“Why not?”
He blows out a breath, running his hand through his hair and looking as exhausted as I feel. “My stepmother convinced my pussy-whipped father to go on a cruise last minute. They leave in two days and don’t come home until after the new year.”
“Shit,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yeah. It sucks, but what did I expect? She hates me and is trying to get back at me for not going to see her shitty family over Thanksgiving. My father didn’t even put up a fight.”
“What are you going to do?”
He chuckles and shrugs like he has no idea. “Hang out at my place? Order a lot of takeout? Drink a lot of alcohol? I don’t know.” His eyes track back to mine as he tilts his head. “Why aren’t you going home? Isn’t that what you told me you were doing?”
“I lied.” His eyes narrow
and now it’s my turn to shrug a shoulder. “I didn’t want the pity party or the obligatory invitations. I don’t want to crash someone’s Christmas and I don’t want to go home to an empty house, so I’m parking my ass at a hotel for the break.”
Jameson growls out something unintelligible before he throws his Jeep into park and gets out of the car. He’s on me in a flash, grabbing my suitcase and carrying it to the back of his car.
“What the hell?”
“You’re not spending almost two weeks in this hotel. No fucking way. You’re going to come and stay at my place. Both Cane and Travers are gone. You can sleep in one of their rooms. We’ll spend the vacation together.”
I hesitate. Not because that doesn’t sound good, but because it does. “You think that’s a good idea?” I have to ask. One of us needs to be thinking rationally about this. After I got my tattoo, he pulled away. Not a lot, not even a perceptible amount to anyone else. But I noticed it. I felt it. I think it’s because I not only bared my breasts to him, but part of my soul.
And he didn’t want it.
It hurt, but it was the wakeup call I desperately needed. I put him squarely back in the friend zone and that’s how it’s been in the weeks since. But if we’re sharing a space like that? I just don’t know.
“I think it’s a great idea.” He pauses and catches my eye. “I’m not letting you stay alone in a hotel. Come stay with me, Lee. We’ll go to the grocery store and grab a shit ton of food and booze. We can even get Christmas decorations if you want.”
I smile, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to hide it. It’s so damn tempting.
“Come on. I know you want to.” That grin. Christ almighty, that grin of his.
“Okay. But I’m buying the food.”
He sighs and shakes his head. “We’ll split it.”
“I’m buying an expensive bourbon that you’ll share with me.”
“Deal.”
I get in his car and he puts my suitcase in his trunk. I call the hotel and cancel my reservation and then we head to the grocery store. We load up on enough food to feed an army for weeks. We decide to try and cook our way through Christmas dinner and we even get a tiny plastic tree, lights, and multicolored ornaments.
“I have a present for you,” he says as we make our way to the register. I thought you were going to be home, so I was going to give it to you there.”
I smile to myself, staring away from him and out into the grocery store so he doesn’t catch it. “I have something for you, too.”
I feel a poke in my side and I turn back to him. He opens his mouth to say something when the woman in front of us catches our attention with the words ‘ice storm’. “Yes,” she says, nodding vigorously at the checkout lady. “I heard it’s supposed to start tomorrow night and last through Christmas. It’s why I’m getting all my shopping done now. The weather man on channel eight said six inches of snow before it turns to ice. Can you believe it?”
I glance over at Jameson and he’s grinning. “Good thing we have food and alcohol. But I think we might need to get some batteries, flashlights and candles. We will lose power. We do every time it gets like that. Especially with ice. This town will shut down the second the flakes start to fall.”
“This is the south,” I protest, dumbly not comprehending how snow and ice find their way here.
“Yeah. But it’s not that south, Lee. It can get as nasty as an unpaid whore in Nashville.” The woman in front of us turns, scowling at Jameson. “Sorry,” he says with a contrite, charming grin. The woman forgives him instantly. I don’t think anyone can be mad at the bastard when he smiles like that.
“Fine,” I groan, not pleased at all. “I’ll run and get what we need.” I grab everything I can find, readying for the apocalypse of snow and ice. At home, six inches of snow and some ice isn’t that big of a deal. I live in New England, after all. But I guess southerners aren’t as well versed in winter weather as we northerners are. “Here,” I say, tossing my findings onto the belt and adding it to our booty.
We pay for the groceries, load everything up into his car and then we silently ride to his apartment. It’s eerily quiet when we get inside. His roommates left this morning, now it’s cold, dark and lifeless. So unlike how it typically is. Both Cane and Travers keep this place buzzing with loud, crude conversations wrapped in women and debauchery.
I head directly into the kitchen, which isn’t all that big. It’s little more than a galley with a large counter separating it from the dining area. “I have no idea where your stuff goes so I’m just going to put it where I think it should go.”
Jameson looks at me, the corner of his lips quirking up. “I have no doubt you’ll have my kitchen whipped into shape in no time.”
He’s right. This place is a disaster. Nothing makes sense. I mean, he has pots mixed in the same cabinet as food. I go through everything. Mostly because I need the distraction. I’m in Jameson’s apartment, and apparently, I’m staying here for more than ten days. Alone. With him. Part of that is going to be through a storm, which means I’ll have trouble leaving and getting some no doubt much-needed space.
“I put your suitcase up in Travers’ room. It’s cleaner than Cane’s. I also changed the sheets because I can’t even think about what was on the ones he had on his bed. I washed my hands three times in scalding water after touching them.”
I laugh and then scrunch my nose as I face him. “That’s sort of gross. Are his sheets clean?”
“They’re my sheets, actually. I promise you, they’re clean. But if you’d rather sleep in my bed, I’ll sleep in his.”
“Right,” I snort out. “Like your bed is any less covered in bodily fluids than his was.”
Jameson glances away, and for the first time in all the years I’ve known him, I think he’s embarrassed. “I haven’t had a woman in my bed in almost two months.”
My jaw has officially hit the floor. My eyes might be bugging out of my head. I know I’m frozen in the middle of his tiny ass kitchen.
“Don’t look so shocked. I’ve never liked bringing girls home to my bed.”
I blink and try to clear my head. I want to ask when the last time he was with a woman was, but honestly, I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business anyway. “It’s fine. If you changed the sheets, I’ll sleep in Travers’ room.”
“What are we making for dinner?”
“Margaritas.”
He laughs, nudging into me as he takes the bottle of tequila from my hand. “I’ll make those. What about for food? Don’t tell me we’re ordering out?”
“I was thinking Israeli couscous with vegetables and pesto. We can add some sort meat product for you.”
“What the hell is Israeli couscous?”
I laugh at his expression. “You’ll like it. Just trust me.”
“I’m going to need a lot of alcohol to get through this week.”
“Then mix them up. I’m waiting.”
Jameson gets to work on our margaritas that don’t work all that well with the dinner I have planned out, but who cares? He hands me one, but before I can take a sip, he holds his glass out to me. “I’m glad you’re here. I was not looking forward to this break.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too. I was not all that into the hotel situation.”
We clink glasses and each take a sip. I set my glass down and go back to chopping up vegetables. “Where are you parents?”
“On tour. They start in Australia and then work their way back to America before finishing up in Italy sometime before school lets out. He couldn’t say no to this tour. The venues are too big and the payday too great.” I look over at him, taking another sip of my delicious drink. “But really, I think he missed it. The touring, the crowds, the music.”
“Why didn’t you want that? I’ve heard you sing. You’re good.”
“Not that good,” I say with a smile, and he shakes his head at my self-deprecation. He moves in next to me, taking over chopping some of the veggies whil
e I get to work on the couscous. “In all seriousness, it was never my thing. I don’t like being the center of attention. I don’t like the limelight. I like being in the background. I like making the music, not performing it.”
“And you’re going to Los Angeles this summer?”
I glance over at him, something in his voice makes me. Something wistful. “Yeah. You’ll be in New York, right?”
He nods and our eyes lock. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through next semester without you studying with me.”
I smile, trying for some levity. I don’t feel any. I feel heavy, weighed down. “I’ll still help you outline and study. You know I will. Even if I’m not taking the class.”
He takes a step in my direction and I turn to face him, my neck arching back to meet his eyes. They’re swimming with an ocean of emotion. Something drastic has changed in Jameson. It both excites and terrifies me. I am going away this summer. And once I graduate—though that’s not for over a year—I’m going to move to California. And he’ll be in New York. And we’ll be separated.
Even though that’s months away, we both know that whatever this is between us isn’t casual enough to withstand that sort of time limit. That sort of self-imposed distance. “I’m going to go set up the bullshit hack of a tree we got.”
I nod.
“I’ll make my chicken, though. You don’t have to touch it.”
“Thanks.”
He bends down. I tilt up. Our eyes meet in what I can only describe as combustible heat. I suck in a rush of air. He lets out his and I swallow it down. I can’t help it. He spins around quickly and stalks off, leaving me standing in his kitchen with the sounds of vegetables sautéing.
Twelve days. How will I ever survive it?
Chapter 7
Jameson
* * *
It started snowing at four in the morning. How do I know that you might ask? Because I was awake. It’s been two days since I brought Lyric home with me. Two days of not a whole lot mixed in with too much sexual tension. She cooks. And she hums while she does. But her food is really freaking good. Even that crazy couscous shit she made me was delicious.