"Did the impromptu photo shoot scare you off?" I ask as innocent as I can.
"No, not at all. I've just stayed longer than I was supposed to—" He looks after Amelia as she disappears beyond the front doors ahead. "Did your friend leave you? How are you getting home?"
"I guess in a different cab. Hers is probably taking off right now and I can't run in these heels."
"I'll give you a ride."
He says this like it's the most innocent phrase that could come out of a man like him. For the record, it's not. Hearing that combination of words leave his lips makes my mouth water.
"Yes, please. I'd like very much for you to give me a ride," I say, smiling wider than necessary.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The moon is a crescent overhead as we make our way out into the dark parking lot. Sounds of traffic are dulled by the hum of music and conversation pouring out of the bar's front doors. The cool air works to sober me up.
Owen hands me a motorcycle helmet. "Have you ridden before?"
I hesitate, weighing the helmet in my hands. I haven't. But I'm tempted to lie and say I have just because I hate admitting I'm inexperienced in any way. It's just…the way he asks, it's as if he's hoping to show me things I haven't seen before. And I'm left battling the excitement he stirs in me, like I'm some teenage girl.
I glance at the slab of machine, so open and exposed.
"No," I admit. "First time."
Owen must notice something on my face because, after asking me where I'm going, he says, "Don't worry, that's not far. The ride will be quick and easy."
I want to make a joke about preferring it long and hard, but I catch him looking at me for way longer than I think even he intends to. Somehow, in those few seconds, the residual noises of our surroundings dull a few octaves, leaving just the rustle of a breeze sweeping in to tangle a strand of hair in my eyelashes.
Owen's hand comes up to my face, fingers sweeping over my eyebrows, taking the strand of hair with them, and tucking it behind my ear. I freeze at his touch, feeling my chest rise on a sudden intake of air.
He removes his jacket and hands it to me. "Put this on."
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine," he says, pushing the leather into my hands.
I put the jacket on, distracted by the way it carries his scent in stronger and more intoxicating doses than I've ever experienced. The crisp, clean smell I recognize from before has notes of citrus and spearmint, which twist into something unexpectedly warm and sensual. I resist the urge to pull the jacket over my face and inhale deeply.
The helmet, on the other hand, is considerably less pleasant. I cringe internally at the way the hard material is snug around my skull, making me feel constricted and a bit claustrophobic.
He gets on the bike, motioning for me to do the same. I straddle the seat behind him and he turns his head toward me as he puts on his own helmet. "Hold on tight."
He starts the engine, it hums and purrs, vibrating between my legs and heightening my sense of arousal. When I wrap my arms around his torso, I'm taken completely off guard by how dense his body feels. Every inch of him is sturdy and compact. A wall of muscles meets the palms of my hands, which I realize too late have strayed across his abdomen in their curious examination.
I laugh into my helmet, hoping he didn't notice me copping a feel. If he did, he doesn't react to it and instead, pulls the bike out onto the street.
The movement brings flutters in my stomach. Suddenly, the constraints of the helmet don't matter. We are flying down the streets, nothing between us and the cool night air whipping against our clothes. I keep the side of my face pressed to his back, watching our surroundings turn to whirls of indiscernible shapes and colors. And every once in a while I catch another lungful of his scent.
Way too soon for me, he brings the bike to a park at the lot in front of Lex's condo and turns off the engine. The vibration ceases and, strangely enough, I instantly miss feeling the raw power between my legs.
He gets off the bike first, takes off his helmet, and extends his hand, which I don't see right away because I'm distracted by his hair. It's disheveled in a way that adds extra grain to his already rough looks.
He squints his eyes for a fraction of a second, as though he finds my looking at him curious. I take his hand and slide off the bike. When I pull off the helmet, I make a point to run my hand through my hair, self-consciously smoothing out some tangles, and letting it drape over my shoulder. Owen's gaze darts to the newly exposed skin on my neck. In a small, seemingly unconscious movement, he wets his bottom lip.
"Come on. Let me walk you to the door," he says, the corners of his mouth twist up a little to let me know he can tell I'm still impaired by alcohol.
We walk alongside each other and I can still feel my body holding on to the back of his. I get the urge to loop my arm through his, but I don't. He makes me nervous in an exhilarating way I can't get enough of.
He slides his hands into his front pockets and his arms seem to tense. I wonder if he's cold, if I should offer him back his jacket. But when our eyes meet in a sideways glance, I see something else there, firing up the caramel strands of his hazel eyes. He's not cold.
All I see is heat.
We reach the front door and I stare at him for a few seconds, wishing I could invite him inside without my sister finding out I brought a stranger into her condo. It's as if I'm a teenager again, with no safe place away from parents to entertain a guy and possibly dry hump in the dark.
"I'm staying with my sister," I say, a bit awkwardly.
He nods his understanding, but doesn't offer anything else, just watches me like he can't get enough of my face. I remember to take off his jacket and hand it back to him. He takes it and drapes it over his arm.
"I was surprised you didn't leave with your friend," he says, with the air of someone prolonging the seconds before a goodbye.
I take in a deliberate inhale of fresh air, willing the alcohol to hang back, just for a few minutes. Somehow, in my inebriated state, I'm acutely aware of Owen. More so than anything else around me. More so than ever. The more I stare at him, the more I realize it's not so much his face that is stern, but the expression in his eyes. As though his eyes produce a tangible barrier that shrouds everything else.
I recognize that look.
"I'm curious…about you." My words sound steady, though my mind is anything but. Thoughts swirl lazily around my head. Thoughts of how good it felt to hold onto him on the ride here. Thoughts of how I could manage for that to happen again.
"I'll admit, I'm curious, too."
"Oh?" I lean back against the door and wait for the words about to trail from his lips.
"I'm curious what brings you to the diner, after you've been gone for years."
"I feel…good there." I laugh at the ease with which the words slip from my tongue. "That's the truth serum speaking right now."
Owen pulls my chin up with a finger until our gazes intersect again. "Can I tell you something you're not supposed to know?"
I try and fail to keep my tone even, my voice dropping down an octave. "Yes."
"I feel good with you there, too."
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "And why am I not supposed to know that?"
"Because…I'm not sure I'm ready for you to know what I think of you. Or the effect you have on me. The effect you've always had on me."
He leans in and steals the breath I'm about to take. Right from my lips.
Hands running up the sides of my neck, he weaves fingers into my hair, pulling my face firmly to his. There's a contained sort of wildness about the way his mouth moves over mine, a torturous slowness that makes me suspect I'm only glimpsing the fire raging inside of him. A fire he's protecting me from. Letting me enjoy the heat without getting swallowed up by the whole of it.
The light moan that trails from my lips reveals how badly I want to burn. I want him to envelop me, to consume me until there's nothing left. My hands clos
e over the fabric of his shirt at the waist. I bring my body closer to his, leaning my weight on him. But as I resign to the idea of letting him take me right where I stand, he breaks away to look at me. His eyes shining with a satisfied smile at the way I'm left stunned, angling for more, and pulling in a breath between my swollen lips.
Sirens wail in the distance and a car door shuts nearby. The cloudiness in his expression disperses as reality seeps, unwelcome, into our bubble. He waits for me to say something. My thoughts strap my tongue down and all I can do is stare right back.
I tilt my head back to get a better look at him, but the simple movement causes the world around me to lurch unpleasantly. I shut my eyes and press my head back against the door to ground myself.
My whole body must sway because Owen steadies me. I open my eyes to meet his again and notice his lips are now turned down. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I lie and press my fingers to my lips as the burn of alcohol rises into my throat.
"You should get inside," he says, a slight disappointment noticeable in his tone. "Get some water in your system."
"I will…thanks for the ride."
He waits for me to unlock my door and step inside. "Goodnight, Emily."
I like the way my name sounds from his lips.
"Goodnight, Owen."
He stands there as I shut the door, watching him reduce to a sliver of color between frame and door. When he's obscured and the door shuts with a thud, I press my forehead to it as everything around me swims.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It's so damn bright in Lex's condo.
I pull the covers over my head, but the sun still penetrates the strands of the material, its warm rays lighting up the back of my eyelids.
Birds chirp outside but the sound is so sharp it cuts through walls and fabric and stabs at my eardrums.
Groaning, I pull the pillow over my head. There's nothing more infuriating than when the day insists on being obnoxiously happy instead of being appropriately gray and miserable. Like the headache rocking my brain against my skull.
Dear bright and cheerful day,
I need you to kindly pipe the fuck down.
Eventually, I drag myself out of bed, swearing to abstain from alcohol consumption for however long it takes to forget this awful feeling. Or however long it takes for me to want to repeat it.
I forgot it's Saturday. Lex is at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Her mouth hangs slightly open when she catches my appearance.
"What happened to you?"
My brain was ripped from my skull, run over by a semi-truck, I want to say. Instead, I groan. Like a bear. Like a bear that's going to reach out of the window and snatch up those goddamn birds. And gnaw on them until they can't chirp anymore.
I squint to filter out some of the room's light and feel around one of the kitchen drawers for the bottle of aspirin I've seen in it before. Finding it, I pop two pills in my mouth, and dry swallow. I lay my head on the cold countertop and groan again. Lex laughs but I don't care. The cold granite feels good against my face.
"Drink some water," she tells me.
I drink two glasses of water, chugging them down noisily and without a break, then slink over to the table and sit beside my sister. I lay my head on the wooden surface, which isn't cold and soothing, but at least it's not moving like the walls are.
"Maybe you should cool it with the drinking," Lex says. "You've been doing a lot of it lately."
I narrow my eyes at her, not realizing what she's talking about, and she points toward the bottle of vodka.
"I didn't have any of that last night," I say. "Just a whole lot of other…beverages in tiny little glasses."
"Yeah, but what about every other night this week?"
"Cut me some slack. I've had a rough week. How was it with Jacob at the Christmas party last night?"
"It was…interesting," she says.
I open my eyes a crack and see the conflict on her face. She almost looks like she doesn't want to tell me. But she does. I keep my head pressed to the table and watch her expression as she tells me how Leo cornered her and tried to get her back. Swearing ending things the way that he did was all a big mistake. How he wants nothing more than to be with her.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
He used the 'L' word. Motherfucker. It's the commitment phobic's kryptonite. I imagine Lex toppled over and played dead until he gave up and walked away. I can't imagine how else my sister would react to him telling her he's in love with her.
I'm not good at consoling people, but breakups are fairly easy. All you have to do is agree the guy is an enormous asshole and the woman is better off without him. List out all the shit he did wrong and remind her why she should hate him.
Easy.
I really believe it when I tell her Leo's full of shit. He's messing with her and I'm not going to sit here and play the 'what if' game about this guy who's plucking away at my sister's bruised heart like she's a damn violin.
I don't play devil's advocate. I play drag the motherfucker through the mud.
These last few days have been awful for me to witness. My big sister trying hard to pretend she isn't hurting as bad as she is. The worst part is that I can't relate to what she's going through. I'm trying, but I can't. I've never been in her shoes, never missed someone the way she misses Leo. Never been in a position where I had the maturity to not be with someone when I realized he wasn't good for me. Lex is intent on keeping a broken heart over a man who isn't right for her.
I have to wonder what's going on in my sister's head. And as my worry for her grows, there's a thought lurking in the back of my mind: I'm set to head back to San Francisco, after Christmas.
It's not that I don't think she'll be okay on her own. I know she will be. Lex has always been on her own. I wish she'd allow herself to lean on someone for once. And I wish there was someone that could help pull Lex out of this funk. Who, I don't know. A Leo exorcist? Such a person ought to exist.
Perhaps it's me.
My headache's finally dulled by the time Lex finishes her breakfast. I go to fix myself a plate of eggs, but she does it for me. I pull the laptop out and set it beside my plate. I check the news to get some perspective. Someone out there is having a worse start to their day than me.
Oh! Flood, up north. People stuck in their cars. Yes. That really sucks.
Lex and I make light conversation. She tells me about Leo's ex-girlfriend Katy who showed up at the Christmas party like a crazed stalker. I mean, what is it with this guy? Why does his penis turn presumably normal women into nut jobs?
A chime erupts from my laptop's speakers, Lex pauses mid-sentence but then continues talking. I nod along, clicking open my email. Then my jaw drops.
"What is it?" my sister asks.
"Flood. Up north," I lie. "People stuck in their cars."
She nods then gets up. Says she's going to get some Christmas shopping done. I keep my expression steady as she walks away.
I turn back to my laptop and read the email from Leo Conrad.
__
From: Leo Conrad
To: Emily Stone
Subject: Alexis
If by some miracle, you didn't instantly delete this:
I need to talk to you about Alexis. In person.
It's important. Are you coming into town soon?
__
From: Emily Stone
To: Leo Conrad
Subject: RE: Alexis
Instantly delete this?
And miss an opportunity to tell you to go fuck yourself?
No way in hell.
P.S. Go fuck yourself.
__
From: Leo Conrad
To: Emily Stone
Subject: RE: Alexis
My mistake. I forgot I was communicating with a child.
Trust me, you're the last person in the world I want to talk to right now. Or ever. Yet here I am.
Let's cut to the chase. I'm going to assume a few things:
1. You are coming to town for Christmas.
2. You know what happened between Alexis and me.
3. You want your sister to be happy.
4. You know that she can be with me.
__
From: Emily Stone
To: Leo Conrad
Subject: Recap: Fuck off and die
I forgot I was communicating with an arrogant, self-absorbed pretty boy.
1. Did you really just make a numbered list?
2. You broke my sister's heart.
3. And so she hates you.
4. And so I hate you.
5. The best thing you can do is to forget anything happened between the two of you because trust me, she's way over you.
__
From: Leo Conrad
To: Emily Stone
Subject: RE: Recap: Fuck off and die
I hate that I have no idea what to use as bait to lure a vicious man-eater to meet with me.
What is it, anyway—your bait? Is it man blood?
I'm O-Negative.
__
From: Emily Stone
To: Leo Conrad
Subject: RE: Recap: Fuck off and die
Trust me, I'm the last person in the world you want to meet with. Because I can't guarantee I won't drive my very sharp heel into your crotch and puncture your balls—that is, if you even have any.
__
From: Leo Conrad
To: Emily Stone
Subject: RE: Recap: Fuck off and die
I honestly don't care if you like me or not. I don't get the sense that you are the sensitive type so here's the truth: the feeling is mutual. You may not like me, but this isn't about you and me. It's about Alexis.
__
From: Emily Stone
To: Leo Conrad
Subject: RE: Recap: Fuck off and die
I'm sure you miss her, blah blah. Want her back, blah, blah.
But it's time to own up to your shit, Leo.
You lost her. Now go after something that suits you, something cheap and easy. From what I've heard, you've got that department covered.
__
From: Leo Conrad
Entice (Hearts of Stone #2) Page 8