by Lory Wendy
“Something like what?” I play along.
“Anything. As long as it’s real.”
I turn to look at him. “As opposed to what?”
“Stop.” He grabs me by the waist and turns me against his chest. “Maybe drop the tough-girl act for a few minutes and just chill.”
“Okay, fine. Something real. Something real,” I repeat a few times, tapping my chin. “Okay, I have something, but you can’t tell anyone.”
His left eyebrow raises in what I assume is anticipation.
Looking over my shoulder, as if to make sure there’s no one nearby to hear me, I whisper, “I like Miracle Whip.”
He squeezes my side, causing me to yelp.
His lips hover over mine for a beat before they connect. It’s a slow, soft kiss, perfect for the moment but a complete contrast to anything I would have expected from him. I turn in his arms and wrap my arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, desperately trying to deepen the kiss, prolong the moment, and hold on to him. It’s almost a reflex when I moan into his mouth, but the noise seems to break the moment, and Julian suddenly pulls away.
“What’s wrong?”
“We need to get out of here.” He looks over my shoulder.
“What? Why?” I try to see what he saw, but before I can turn, he grabs my hand, pulling me in the opposite direction. “Julian, what—” But he’s not quick enough, and before I can finish what I’m about to say, I hear ticking and then feel water splashing in my face. “The sprinklers!”
“Yeah, no shit. Come on.” He pulls me along. We do our best to get out alive, but we don’t escape dry. Closer to the gate where we entered, we finally find solace, and even though the sprinklers were a complete cockblock and the mascara is burning my eyes, the smile on his face is too contagious not to return it.
“Come on, let me get you home.”
He helps me into his car, where we can’t seem to keep our hands off of each other the entire ride home.
“Want to come in?” I ask, hovering by the front door, elated that there are no cars in the driveway and all the lights inside are off.
“I wouldn’t want to get your furniture wet.” He pinches his shirt.
He doesn’t need clothes for what I have planned. “Being wet isn’t necessarily the worst thing that could happen tonight.”
“Oh.”
“Come get warm.” I wink at him. Thankfully, when we walk in, the heat blasts us. “I can put those things in the dryer,” I offer, but he shakes his head, pulling me to him. This is what I had expected the first kiss from him to be: wet and needy. His hands are all over me—one palming my ass, the other pulling my hair.
“My room’s that way.” I jerk my head behind us.
“Right.” Our mouths attack again as we walk backward. Completely misjudging space, the back of my thigh hits the corner of the coffee table, sending the vase and flowers from earlier toppling to the ground. “Shit.”
“Leave them,” I demand.
“Selena?” I hear Blaire’s door open.
Oh no.
“You okay? What was that noise?”
“My bad. We were just…”
To add on to ruining the moment, she switches on the brightest lights in the near vicinity. I blink against the harshness.
“What are you doing here?” Her arms are crossed as she stares over my shoulder, and when I turn, I find Julian standing stock-still, glaring at her.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” he says.
“What? No you’re not. No, he’s not,” I add, also glaring at my sister now.
“No, it’s cool.” Julian squeezes my arm. “My place next time.”
“Over my dead body,” Blaire mutters, but we both hear her.
“Be careful,” Julian warns. Blaire snaps her mouth shut, but doesn’t tame the look she’s giving him.
“I’ll call you.” He drops a quick kiss on my cheek and walks out before I can beg him to stay.
“Are you crazy?” I turn on her.
“I don’t like him,” she says, squaring her shoulders, as if her opinion matters right now.
“You don’t have to. I do.”
She flinches back. “I also don’t trust him.”
“I repeat. You do not have to! I honestly can’t believe you just did that.” I try to make my way to my room, but she stops me. “Do not follow me, or even talk to me for that matter.”
“We need to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t, not now or ever, because I have nothing to say to you.”
“I find it funny that you’re tripping all over yourself for this guy you don’t even know.”
“Excuse you?” I turn to face her. I’m not sure she meant for me to hear it, but it’s too late because I did.
“I don’t like him. Why is this even still a conversation?”
“If you don’t like him, then you don’t date him. Easy-peasy.” I rub my hands together. “Problem solved.”
She has absolutely no real comeback, but one upping her suddenly doesn’t feel like a victory. “Why can’t you just be happy for me?” My voice comes out sadder than I expected it to. “Daddy wouldn’t have liked any of these guys or what they’re about, but I see that Rocky makes you happy. And I like him for that. Why can’t you see that Julian is doing the same thing for me?”
“Because for one, you don’t know shit about my relationship with Rocky. As for Julian? He’s not making you happy for the hell of it. He’s using you, trust me, and stop treating me like the bad guy all of the sudden just because I want what’s best for you.”
We’re both trying to guilt trip the shit out of each other, and we’re both clearly failing because I couldn’t care less about her ‘wanting what’s best for me’ right now. I’m on the defensive and poised to attack. That’s all. “On what planet do I have anything Julian needs to use me for?” His watch costs more than my entire wardrobe. Blaire looks between my legs, then back to my face.
“Oh, so he’s using me for sex because he doesn’t have a dozen other chicks he can run to instead of me?”
“And probably will continue to run to,” she says smugly. “Right as we speak.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
She blocks my way to my room yet again.
“You need to stop following me. I’m serious.”
“Do you even know what kind of shit he’s into?”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it!”
She looks away from me then looks down.
“Exactly. You’re just talking out of your ass.”
“You’re making a big mistake.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Selena—”
“Stay out of my life, Blaire. Seriously.”
“You owe me!” she shouts, getting up in my face. “And I don’t want him in my house. That’s the least you can do for me.”
“Your house?” I laugh. It’s rough and maniacal. “Last I checked, this house is mine because you would have smoked up and sniffed every single penny on it.”
There. It’s the low blow I’ve been waiting to deal her. The one thing in the world I have to throw back at her. And now that I have, I feel like shit.
“Have it your way then.” She nods and finally sidesteps me.
I take the opportunity to make my way past her and into my room. This isn’t how I saw the night ending. At one point, I was sure it would end with Julian naked and on top of me. Not with me alone in my room crying myself to sleep.
Chapter Fourteen
“At one point, I thought green pea soup was going to spew out of her mouth and her head was going to do a 360-degree turn,” I say to Hope a few days later while recapping my blowout with Blaire.
The fight was brutal, but what annoys me the most is her targeting all her anger at Julian.
Meanwhile, it’s obvious something else has been bothering her for weeks now.
“So, how did you guys leave things?” Hope asks.
“And she hasn’t said anything? Apologize? Nothing?”
“Blaire? Apologize? Yeah right!”
“True.” She rolls her eyes.
We both continue eating silently while I casually people watch the patrons of Pearl St. Mall and Hope thumbs through her phone.
Pearl Street isn’t too crazy today, something we can blame the shitty weather for. But I’m thankful it’s not overcrowded.
“Sorry about that.” Hope looks up from her phone, frowning. “I was just checking my e-mails.”
“Still nothing?”
“Nope. And I’m definitely starting to take it personally. I literally sent my resume to, like, thirty places last week.”
“That sucks,” I say, having nothing else to offer. “Ready?” I point to the ignored scraps on her plate.
“I can’t believe Blaire bugged out like that,” Hope says, bringing up our previous topic as we walk into Déjà Blue. Thrifting and all that “vintage” style clothes shopping is so not my thing. But it’s Hope’s, so I follow along with a smile.
“I know,” I agree as I fire off a text to Rocky to let him know that No, I CANNOT work today on my only day off this week.
Lifting up a dress that’s straight out of the 50s, but bordering on an I Love Lucy Halloween costume, I look over at Hope. “Really?”
“I think it’s cute.”
“You would.” I hang it back up on the rack.
“I can’t stop thinking about earlier, though. She seemed super geeked that Pierce sent you those flowers, and then you end up bringing Julian home. You don’t think that maybe she’s acting like that because Pierce complained to Rocky, then he said something to her?” she asks. “It might be weird for him since he’s friends with both guys. And now she’s stuck in the middle or something.”
I never thought about that. That would definitely be an awkward situation to be in. It’s still no excuse. “Well, if Rocky has an issue, he can come to me, not send my sister. And really, she should be defending me even if he is talking shit. Not taking his shit-talk out on me.”
“True facts.” Hope nods, guiding me to another part of the store. “So what about Julian?”
I nearly trip over a haphazardly thrown shoe. “Hope, this place is a fucking death trap.”
“Look at you, falling for him already.” She laughs but doesn’t disagree. “Stop stalling.”
“I’m not.” Though I really was. “I don’t know.” I kick the shoe closer to one of the racks and out of the aisle. “We haven’t talked since our… whatever you want to call it. Date?”
“That was only a few days ago. I think that’s pretty normal, right?”
“I guess.” How would I know? This is the first non-setup I’ve dealt with, and I’m still not even sure what Julian’s endgame is. Is he interested in me? Or is he not? Where’s one of those “he loves me, he loves me not” flowers when you need one?
“Are you guys going on a second date?” Hope asks.
“If you asked me that before the Blaire fiasco, I would have said maybe, but now I’m pretty sure it’s a hell no.”
“Oh, come on. I doubt he’s going to take that out on you.”
“You know what I always wondered?”
She stops suddenly and turns to face me. “What?”
“If guys sit and talk about us the way we talk about them.”
“You mean if they overanalyze every microscopic movement and word and tone of voice the way we do?”
“Exactly!”
“We don’t,” a voice says.
Both Hope and I whip around. Staring back at us is a random guy who appears to work here if the blue smock and name tag is any indication.
“Excuse you?” I say.
Hope nods and adds, “Eavesdrop much?”
“Sorry.” His face turns red before he scampers away.
“Anyway,” Hope drags the word out. We both bust out laughing. Poor guy. He was probably trying to help, but who the hell asked him?
“I think we’re done here,” I say.
“For sure.” She loops her arms through mine, steering me toward the door. “Wait.” She stops suddenly, bee-lining it toward another rack of clothes. “This!” She lifts up a dress, lays it over herself, then on me. “Would look super cute on you.”
“Umm, no.” I grab it out of her hand to face it forward. It is a cute dress—sexy, red, and not anything I’d ever need to wear anywhere. “It’s not my style.”
“This dress is everyone’s style.”
“I have nowhere to wear it to.”
“You’re trying it on!”
“Fine.” I fake pout because the dress might very well not be my style or anything I would ever wear, but it’s cute as hell.
“Whoa.”
“Right?” I spin again and face the triple-sided mirrors outside of the dressing rooms. The dress is a little tight in some spots, but still, I feel amazing. “I look—”
“You look hot! Bitch, you better work.”
I laugh at her enthusiasm. Then just like that, the moment’s squashed. I purposely left my money at home so I wouldn’t buy anything. I guess my plan worked out a little too well.
“Damn.” She frowns too when I tell her. “Well, I’ll just get it and you can pay me back.”
“It’s not that serious,” I say when I come back out of the dressing room back in the clothes I was wearing when I came in. “I’ll come back in a few days. If it’s gone, then it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I tell myself that with stuff, and it’s never there when I come back.”
“Which means it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Lame.” She pouts, but I see her eyeing the dress as we walk out.
So I’m not that surprised when the next day I get a delivery at my door and the red, pencil skirt dress with three-quarter sleeves stares back at me.
Chapter Fifteen
While the dress is a nice gesture, the way it hugs me in all the wrong places serves as a stark reminder I haven’t stepped foot in the gym in a while. The last time I was there, patches of snow littered the ground, and now the tops of the trees have started to green. Which is probably why, after twenty minutes on the treadmill, I’ve had enough.
“Hey stranger!” Quincy calls out to me before I can run out of the gym.
Turning around, I survey his outfit. No uniform today, just a cut-off T-shirt, shorts, and his hands are taped up. He’s also sporting a killer black eye and busted lip. “Holy shit. What happened to you?”
“You should see the other guy.” He winks with his good eye.
Oh, yeah, right.
“So, you had an… umm”—I drop my voice to a whisper— “a fight recently?”
“Something like that.”
Curiosity gets the better of me, and even though I’m not sure I support this fighting thing, I still want to see him in action, so to speak. “Can I ever come to one of your fights?”
Quincy’s eyes widen and he leans back as if he needs a better angle to see me. “You’d want to come see me fight?”
“You seem surprised.”
He points at me and makes a circle in the air in front of my face. “Because that, right there, twitches every time someone brings it up.”
“Well, people can change their minds, you know.” What I don’t admit is I have ulterior motives to go. I’m starting to notice a pattern with these guys and want to see if my hunch is right. But most of all, I haven’t seen Julian in days and I’m desperate for an excuse to “accidentally” run into him.
“I guess we could arrange that one day. Yeah, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Great.” I hitch my gym bag over my shoulder. “So…”
“So, I saw you going hard on the treadmill earlier—a little too hard, by the way. You look great. Relax.”
“Oh.” I look down, giving my thick thighs a quick glance.
“If you ever want to train together, let me know. I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself working out the wrong way.”
“Thanks.” I guess.
“Anyway, I have to go.” He pinches my arm. “I’ll let you know about the next fight.”
“Word on the street is—” Julian starts, but he’s cut off by my laugh.
“What streets would that be, the mean streets of Boulder?”
“You enjoy being a smartass, don’t you?” His voice is hard, angry sounding even, but the softness around his eyes and playful grin betrays him. This is us—what we do—our foreplay I guess, and it gives me the first modicum of happiness I’ve had in a long time.
If Blaire doesn’t get that, then fuck her.
We’re in my driveway right now standing by his car. As usual, he showed up unannounced and uninvited, but oh-so-welcome.
“Quincy talked to me,” Julian says with a tilt of his head. “He mentioned you coming to his next match.”
“And what? He needed to ask your permission for me to be there?”
“Yes, because for starters you would be going with me.”
Oh.
“Come here.” He chuckles and pulls me to him.
With his hand under my chin, his smooth thumb brushes against my cheek. His eyes sparkle a little as the sun bounces off my cement driveway and hits his face, but the look in them is what captivates me for a moment. Searching. Wondering.
“What?” I whisper, suddenly nervous.
“I need to make sure you know what going to something like this means.”
“You make it sound so—”
“Serious?” he interrupts. “That’s because it is. It’s all a one-way door, Selena.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning good girls like you shouldn’t fall for guys like me or get involved in the shit I’m in. This includes Quincy’s fights. If you knew what was good for you, you’d see me for the piece of shit I really am and kick me off your driveway.”
For any other woman, any other smart person, the best thing to do would be to heed this warning. Take it for what it is, go back inside, and never look back. But I’m not dumb. From the way he talks, down to even the way he carries himself, it’s obvious something is up. Him, Pierce, Rocky, and even Quincy, they’re all just too… something. I can’t put my finger on it. Individually, it’s all easy to ignore, but when you put it all together—the poker games, Pierce going on about his investments and trips, Rocky and Quincy boxing—I don’t know what he thinks he’s hiding from me. And I can say as much, try to comfort him in a way I guess, but it’s not my style. Not our style.