“Fuck no,” I tell her as I slowly tease open her lips and use the tip of my tongue to penetrate her shield. It’s short and gentle, barely a hint of a kiss, just a small taste of how much I want her. It takes all my control to pull back, suck in her soft exhale and finish our conversation. I’m also desperate to take her anywhere else, somewhere my brother can’t see us through the fucking window. But I need her with me one hundred percent; I don’t want her worried that the moment I left her I would be going to Maris. “Babe, I’m pretty sure Marissa is sleeping with one of the guys on the team. She isn’t talking to me about it, but I’ve noticed a Herons jersey at her house that she keeps hiding. My guess is it’s not my number she’s sporting, hence her being sneaky and shit. But even if she wasn’t that wouldn’t change how I feel about you.”
“So, you think Marissa is sleeping with someone on the team and you don’t care?” she asks, looking as if she is finally seeing the light.
“Hell yeah. Maris’s personal life is definitely not something I want know anything about.”
“Oh.” She slowly uncrosses her arms, takes a deep breath, but only moves so she can rest both her palms against my chest. “I’m going to have to go back inside soon. I’m with you, but Nate’s my friend. Like Marissa is your friend. I don’t want to abandon him.”
That pisses me off, but I’m not letting it show. She’s finally in my arms, telling me she’s with me.
We just dealt with Marissa.
Instead of demanding she leave with me, I nod and tell her clearly, “Okay, I get that. But you aren’t going back without me showing him you’re mine. Giving me a chance to show you that you’re mine.”
“Huh?” she mumbles, scrunching her nose in confusion before she feels my palm resting at the back of her head, gently pulling her face closer to mine.
This time, when my lips meet hers, it isn’t soft, feather-light or a small taste of how much I want her.
It’s ravenous.
Gut-wrenching hunger.
Pent-up desperation.
She tastes like the sweet honey her eyes allude to, and in a matter of seconds she’s kissing me back like she’s starved for me. Like she’s been waiting an eternity for this moment and can’t get enough.
Fuck, it’s amazing.
It’s better than any other kiss I’ve ever had.
It’s exactly how I knew it would be.
Life-changing.
Our tongues explore, battle and surrender to one another. Both of us demand to feel everything, every crevice the other is hiding. Entwining our mouths until it feels as if we were always meant to be this way.
Christ, if she had shared this with Nathan, I would have lost my mind.
Shit, Nathan.
As soon as his name enters my subconscious, I carefully pull my mouth away from hers.
“Babe, don’t want to stop kissing you. Fuck, I really don’t want to stop. But were you serious about going back to the table?” I ask her, enjoying the way her eyes are clouded with desire, how they struggle to focus and find their way back to reality.
“Umm, table?” she asks me, still looking at my lips in starvation, causing them to twitch in amusement.
“Yeah, the table you were sharing with Nathan for dinner.”
“Oh. Huh. Oh, yes! That table. Yes, yes I was.”
“Okay, well then, I guess I’ll have to leave. Go home and sit around. Wait to see if you reply,” I tease.
“I guess you will,” she tells me, sporting a small secretive smile as she steps backward and straightens her dress. I stand there, with my fingers in my pockets outside the restaurant, until she is sitting back at the table. Then I turn and head toward the Wrangler. Leaving her so she can sit across from one of my father’s lies is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I know we can deal with Nathan later.
And no way will that be the very last kiss we share.
God, if that was what the first kiss was like, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to wait until I can taste every inch of Stars.
As soon as I get in my car, I hear my phone buzz.
Yes.
Looks like she didn’t make me wait long. I finally got my reply.
I can’t help but grin as I drive home.
*****
His knock comes fast and hard.
When I open the door, I make sure my fist moves faster and harder into his face.
Unfortunately, his is just like my jaw, and not only in appearance. It’s as hard as fucking stone, and he doesn’t budge an inch. My hand, however, pulsates with pain. I don’t regret it for a second. If he didn’t put both hands up in surrender as I withdrew my arm, I probably would have thrown the other one. “Happy to see you too, little brother,” Nathan says as he moves one of his hands to rub tentatively against the point of impact.
“Like you didn’t know that was exactly how this was going to go. You showing up at my house at nearly midnight straight after eating dinner with my girl and driving her home.”
“Well, I had hoped you’d offer me a beer and suggest we watch the latest Bears game we both obviously missed tonight, but I’m an optimist that way.”
“Nathan, just tell me what the fuck you want then get off my porch,” I say before joining him on the front porch and letting my door close behind me.
“Clearly, I’m Parker’s friend—” he begins.
“We’ll see about that” I tell him. I’m not making an issue of it with Parker right now, but I’m still not entirely comfortable with the idea of the girl I’m starting to picture in my future spending time with the embodiment of my father’s deceits. I was also very aware of his charades on campus that echo the teachings and values of our father. It is this knowledge that has me warning him, “If you think for a second about pretending to be me with Stars, I want you to know now that a hit to the jaw will be like a first kiss. It won’t come close to the main event, and I won’t stop if I think I’m hurting you.”
“Noted, baby bro,” Nathan tells me, chuckling. “Although, for the record, I’ve never told someone I was you. You’re also deluded if you think Parker can’t tell us apart. You clearly don’t know how lucky you have it with that girl.”
“I’m not an idiot. But I’m not deaf, either. The guys from the team tell me all about the fucking girls you con into thinking you’re me. You’re a con artist. You’re as bad as our fucking fath—”
“Don’t say it.” Suddenly, the comedian is gone and I’m faced with unbridled anger. “Believe what you want, but I have just as much reason to hate that man as you do. And why the fuck am I to blame if a girl doesn’t ask for my fucking name before she offers to spread her legs? I also don’t fuck with the people I care about, and I care about Parker.”
Before I can respond, he continues, “You know, when I realized that she had a thing for you, I was impressed that she saw something more than an entitled prick who gets everything handed to him. Heard about town how hard you work to support your team members. Thought you might really be the best thing to come out of our shitty old man. Thought I might try again. Offer that olive branch you threw in my face when you were a piss-ant fifteen-year-old. Making Parker happy, her limited friends getting along with what might be her future boyfriend, I knew was worth more than my pride. It’s a shame to see you haven’t changed.” He then strides directly back to his black GMC Sierra truck.
I want to go after him, hit him again.
Instead, I stand my ground.
Ignore the pit in my stomach and the taste of guilt on my tongue.
He was just about to close his car door when he yelled out across the yard, “If you hurt her, make that precious girl fall in love with you then tear her heart out, it won’t be me going around this school acting like our father.”
PARKER
I was standing in front of my closet. Freaking out.
In twenty-one minutes and fifteen seconds, Gray would be knocking on my door to take me on our very first date.
“I say wear a whi
te dress, maybe even throw on a veil and crystal slippers. Let him know straight-up your intentions,” Keeley says from my doorway, tongue in cheek and eyes sparkling.
“You’re not helping,” I tell her, without taking my distressed gaze off my clothes. How is it after all the hours I’ve worked and all the new clothes I’ve bought that I feel as if I have nothing to wear? This is a disaster waiting to happen. I should just cancel.
“You aren’t cancelling,” Keeley informs me firmly as she walks into my room and stands beside me. Fuck. I had no clue I said that out loud. Oh, God, what happens if things like that happen during the date?
“It’s our first date. I should wait until I have something to wear,” I plead with Keeley.
“After thirteen years of loving him? You aren’t waiting another week.”
“He doesn’t know that. He also doesn’t know that I haven’t come down with a virus. It could even be contagious. He could think I was considerate for not wanting to risk his heath.”
“You’re going.”
“Fine,” I reluctantly agree. “But if he dumps me straight after the appetizers, it will have been your fault.”
She remains silent and just starts pulling out different ensembles. I watch in awe as she lays three super-cute clothing combinations across my bed: a yellow cotton sundress, my skinny jeans and black tank with spaghetti straps and a navy maxi dress with white lace around the hem.
“How did you do that?”
“I’m clearly not blinded with nerves, which means I can easily spot the best things in your closet,” she replies before quietly asking, “So, are you going to tell him tonight? About your past?”
“That was the plan,” I whisper back as I feel the soft fabric of my yellow sundress.
“Then wear the black shirt with the crazy cleavage,” Keeley says matter-of-factly. “Crazy stalker is going to come across much better if he can stare at your boobs.”
“Okay, I think I’m done with your advice now,” I grit out, causing her to giggle.
“Fine, don’t appreciate my pearls of wisdom. Just trying to help.” She winks and leaves me to stare at the outfits.
I can do this. It’s just a date, right?
With the man of my dreams.
Absolutely no pressure.
*****
I went with the skinny jeans and low-cut black tank top with spaghetti straps.
Even though I wouldn’t admit it out loud—especially seeing as she burst out laughing as she watched me walk from my room to find my cute black flats in this outfit—I figured Keeley had a point. If I confessed my secrets tonight, maybe an abundance of cleavage wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have on display.
I’m sitting on my bed twisting a small silver ring on my right hand when I hear the knock.
Swallow. Breathe. You can do this.
“Hey,” I murmur as I open the door to Grayson Waters in jeans and a white shirt. Some might have said that guys should wear a button-up shirt or pressed slacks on a first date. However, I would have to argue that those same people have probably never seen Grayson Waters in a cotton white T-shirt.
It was dazzling. He wore jeans and a shirt like some men wear a Hugo Boss suit, with the deep-seated knowledge that women everywhere were taking one look and fantasizing about them later.
Before I have a chance to say anything further or tell him how good he looks, he steps forward, cups my face and slowly kisses the life out of me. My lips part, our breaths merge and I taste something better than chocolate. Better than warm pancakes and fresh whipped cream. Better than anything I’ve ever tasted before and more satisfying than I could ever have imagined. When I’m completely lost in the feel of his thumb stroking my cheek and his tongue moving against mine, he pulls away.
He takes a step backward, looks down at me with that knowing grin of his and says, “Hey, Stars. You ready to go?”
I can’t think. I can barely talk. All I can do is nod and hope that’s enough.
Thankfully, Gray seems to know that—enjoy it, even—and proceeds to lead me from my room and eventually outside the dorms until I finally have the capacity to think again.
“So, where are we going?” I nervously ask as Gray helps me into his car.
“I thought we could go see a movie. There’s a new horror one that I’ve been meaning to see.”
“Horror?” I squeak. Yep, I was prepared to do just about anything with Gray: skydiving, dancing, a cooking class, tightrope walking or eating foreign meals that I would pretend to like. But watching a horror movie? I don’t think I can do that. “Like with serial killers or ghosts?” I ask, still not managing to get my voice back down to my usual octave.
Yep, I’m pretty sure I just sounded like I was thirteen. Great.
Gray just chuckles and says, “Yeah, I think there might be ghosts. Not your thing?”
“Well, I don’t really have anything against ghosts exactly. I guess I just usually like my full eight hours of sleep. Worrying about what ghosts might be lurking in my dorm room, with pent-up anger over maybe a hazing incident that went wrong, ready to punish five-foot-four brunettes who remind her of her old sorority sisters might possibly keep me up all night.”
“Okay, so no horror movies.” He smiles. “How about action?”
“With Bruce Willis? Or Sylvester Stallone?” I ask eagerly. Now we’re talking.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a new Stallone movie, if you’re keen? Otherwise, we could just find some place to have dinner. Have you got any suggestions? I was going to make a reservation, but I figured seeing as you’re a local you probably know more about where we should eat than I do.”
“No, let’s do a movie. I love the movies.” I also love not trying to pretend to be someone I’m not.
I’d like to live the fantasy, even if it’s just for a few hours, before I have to tell him that I’m not who he thinks I am.
Is that terrible of me?
“Sounds good,” he murmurs, reaching out and lacing his fingers with mine.
He brings our hands to his lips and lightly kisses my knuckles.
I would wait until the end of the movie. Savor every second, every heated look.
After I’ve had two hours sitting in the darkness staring at him, our joined hands and the small grin that tugs at his mouth. That’s when I would confess and risk giving up the dream. Or maybe. If I wait, say a week, surely that wouldn’t make a huge difference. I could do it over dinner. Much better that way anyhow. Then tonight can just be about us. Our first evening together. If I was only going to get one memory. One dream. I didn’t want to taint it with reality.
Not yet.
PARKER
Are you going to let me see you Saturday?
We were in sociology and unlike a week ago, Grayson was back sitting beside me. But was he paying attention to our professor? That would be a big fat no. Sunday night, after our first official date, once we finally finished kissing in front of my dorm, I decreed that there would be no chatting today in class. We were going to focus and possibly listen to Mr. Gibbons for the first time in six weeks. So the sneaky bastard started to text me ten minutes into the lecture.
And sure, I held strong.
For approximately two minutes.
Apparently, if I know Grayson is trying to tell me something, it trumps Mr. Gibbons.
No.
There. A short text message, direct and back to listening. I can definitely multitask.
Until I hear my phone go off again.
I will not look.
I will not look.
All right, I looked. Damn the gorgeous distraction that is this man. I’ll just quickly reply and finish the conversation.
But this is the first Saturday since you became mine that I’m actually in town.
Yours?
My girlfriend? Social-media-official relationship?
So, I’m your girlfriend? And just so you know, I don’t have social media.
How do you not have social media
? Never mind. Completely off topic. Yes, you are. And therefore, I would like to see MY GIRLFRIEND Saturday night.
I’m working the Halloween party at Lucky’s this Saturday.
“Fuck my life. Seriously, the Halloween party?” Grayson yells, causing everyone in the row in front of us to turn and give us disapproving looks.
“Shhh, keep your voice down! And yes, Marissa asked me last Saturday, when you were away,” I say, hunching lowly in my chair and pulling him down with me so we can continue our whispered conversation without an audience.
Grayson is visibly upset. His eyes sharply focus on my face, his jaw tightening as he grits his teeth. “What’s the costume this year? Last year, they were fucking Victoria’s Secret angels,” he growls.
I pictured the latex Catwoman suit, apparently inspired by the Adam Hughes comic books, that Marissa had me try on yesterday. The fabric accentuates my rather generous God-given assets. Plus the zipper down the middle of the one-piece, which starts at my collarbone and ends beneath my crotch, seems to inspire dark fantasies. I knew this was a lot more fabric than the last year’s waitresses wore. Seeing as I wore leather pants every shift, I didn’t feel like the costume was too drastic a change from the usual. Really, I thought Grayson should be grateful. Plus, he loves superheroes. Maybe Catwoman isn’t necessarily a hero, but she definitely kicks ass.
However, from the reaction Nate had, what with bursting out laughing and making jokes about Gray’s future heart attack, I felt that grateful might not be his response to my outfit.
“I’d rather not say,” I reply, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.
“Fine, what time does your shift start?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m guessing I’m spending Halloween at Lucky’s.”
“On your best behavior, right? You won’t get into any fights if someone tries to hit on me.” During our first date, a guy from the varsity baseball team—Jason Fielding, I think—tried to give me his number while we lined up to get movie tickets. To say that Gray was upset with this occurrence would be an understatement. I spent a good chunk of time trying to keep him in our line and away from Jason. Repeating to him that I would prefer to see the new action blockbuster, rather than have to play nurse to his injuries. Unfortunately, Gray didn’t seem too troubled by the thought of me playing nurse. But tonight, I was working, which meant I couldn’t afford to play nurse if I wanted to keep my job.
Stars (Penmore #1) Page 9