Entangled (A Tryst Novel)

by Alex Rosa

  “Skyler, I forgot, I’ve been meaning to ask you something very . . . very important.”

  If her heels could come to a screeching halt, I think they might have. Her abrupt stop nearly makes her fall over, and she turns around to shoot me a curious glare, mixed with, dare I say, some fear.

  “Yeah?”

  My own rumbling anxiousness forms in my gut at what I’m about to ask, but some things just feel right, and knowing that this absolutely does has those nerves dissolving into a glowing sense of happiness.

  “After filming, it’ll be around Thanksgiving, and I’m not sure what you have planned with Josh and—”

  “He’s already mentioned doing something with Vanessa. He’s totally into her.”

  I laugh at her sharp, slightly disdainful response, but still find the answer a good one.

  “Oh, well, then . . . I was wondering, actually I was hoping, you’d come with me to visit my family in Wisconsin for the holiday?”

  The silence hangs longer than I anticipate. I’m holding my breath while I watch her stare at me, mouth agape. I can’t tell how much time is stretching between us. My nerves are back with a vengeance as my eyes fall to the cement, prepared for defeat. Even if I do love her, maybe we’re moving too fast. I can’t tell, but the silence isn’t helping the cause.

  It isn’t until I hear the rushed sound of clicking heels that I look up just in time to see Skyler leaping into my arms.

  “You mean it?” she squeals.

  I wrap my arms tightly around her waist, holding her close, and twirl her around before placing her back on her feet.

  “Of course I do.”

  “To meet your family?” she squeals at an even higher decibel level.

  I smile, shrugging my agreement. It’s a big deal, but I try to play it cool. She doesn’t need to see my spastic excitement over this scenario.

  “I’d love to,” she replies to my nonchalance, with a playful smile that hints that she’s probably as smitten by the situation as I am.

  “Perfect,” I exhale. “After all the chaos, we’ll spend the holiday together, and I can show you a bit of snow and . . . whatever.” I shrug again. Lips twitching playfully, fighting the urge to take her here and now purely based on the fact she’s agreed.

  “Whatever?” she repeats questioningly through soft giggles. I know she’s laughing at me. “I can’t wait,” she adds.

  Even though I want to say me too, I keep those words to myself. I have to show a little dignity, don’t I? Instead, I release a long pent-up breath that I know she takes notice of.

  She watches me with a winning smirk, complemented by an eyebrow raise, before standing up on her tiptoes to place a chaste kiss on my lips as if to say, It’s okay, I know you’re being a stupid guy about this, but I love you anyway.

  Reaching for my hand, she’s back to yanking me in the opposite direction. Moment over, I guess. Her steps transition into a jog, and I have to try to keep up with her long-legged strides.

  With her eyes ahead, it gives me a moment to ponder what I’m currently coping with within me. My insides become the most interesting cocktail as the ocean of relief twists around adrenaline-spiked excitement, knowing as I do that Skyler is going to come with me to meet my mom. We’ve made it through the question, and she’s agreed. I’m on top of the world. I’d follow this girl anywhere, and it’s nice to know the feeling is mutual.

  I know this particular thing is a fact when we reach a misplaced cement entryway along the city street. I give it a skeptical eyebrow raise as we approach it. I wouldn’t have noticed it on any normal day, but Skyler seems to know where she’s going. The opening in the cement reveals a long descending stairway that feels foreign as she slows her pace, taking each stair more carefully.

  “How many times have you taken the subway?” I ask, following close.

  She laughs loudly as she focuses on placing her slender legs slowly on each step as she goes. “Lots! When I was a freshman, and when Vanessa and Jennifer and I became friends, we used to get wasted in our dorm room, and then trek around the city, usually ending up on Hollywood Boulevard. We all had boyfriends at the time—well actually, Vanessa always had a boy of the moment, but there was a time Jennifer was in a solid relationship at the same time as I was.”

  I grit my teeth. I don’t mind hearing about Skyler’s past, but when it comes to a life she shared with her asshole ex-boyfriend, Jason, I have zero tolerance. But I keep silent as I watch her stumble onto the bottom step.

  “Uh-huh, sounds like crazy times. I didn’t know you had a party side.”

  Her devilish smile is back, and it throws me.

  “Blake, I was rebellious at one time. How the hell do you think I met someone like Jason? It wasn’t until school got hard, and my boyfriend turned into an overprotective jerk, that life forced me to slow down, and then everything got worse. The world became foreign after that. All I knew was Jason, school, and soccer. And, well, you know how that all ended up.”

  I try to ignore his name. Normally, the topic is off-limits, and I find it strange that Skyler never asks or wants to talk about her abusive ex, but seems to always be willing to mention the happier times. My muscles in my gut tighten at the thought.

  The bottle of wine weighs heavy in my hand, and I’m tempted to throw it out right then, but instead, as we approach the platform, I uncork it. The sound echoes in the empty basement, and Skyler lets out a guffaw as she watches me take my sip.

  I’m about to bow my head in comical shame, but instead she extends her hand. “Let me have some.”

  I lick my lips, and hand it over to her.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with my Skyler?”

  She pouts as she brings the bottle up to her lips, and I chuckle. She looks like a spoiled rich kid, slumming it in the City of Angels.

  I watch her swallow a large gulp, and the movement mesmerizes me. She smiles as she pulls the bottle away from her lips, hiding her sour expression at its taste.

  “You’d think such an expensive bottle would at least taste good.” She lets out a small chirp that resembles a laugh before handing back the bottle and running off to a machine set in the wall. Quickly she grabs us two subway passes with a credit card from her small purse. I’m ready to protest her spending any money, but as if she timed it, the screeching wheels of the train pull up just as she sprints back.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, too stoked at the possibilities of the night.

  “Hollywood Boulevard.”

  We step onto the dirty, empty train, the doors squeaking shut behind us as I peer around at the graffiti on the metal walls surrounding us. “Okay . . .”

  She giggles again, and steps up to me. Her eyes are hooded as she approaches with slow, sensual determination. Her mouth makes soft contact with mine, and the wine is still fresh on her lips.

  When she pulls away I’m breathless, and I feel like releasing my own dumb laughter. “Hollywood Boulevard sounds perfect.”

  Anywhere with her is perfect.

  She shakes her head, grabs for the wine once more, and before sipping it says, “I don’t think anyone has called Hollywood Boulevard perfect. It’s grimy, dirty, and only a place for mischief.”

  “Yeah, perfect,” I retort as I grab for the wine after she’s taken her sip, noting that nearly half of it is gone before I take my own large gulp, wondering what our evening has in store.

  As quickly as we had stepped on, the doors spring back open, and a disembodied voice announces our arrival at our destination.

  Skyler grabs for my free hand, yanking me onto the platform, and wastes no time bounding up the steps to the street. The quick movement has me losing a grip on the cork, and it falls onto the floor. I shrug it off as I swig from the bottle once more, finding the closer I get to the bottom the more forgiving I am of the taste.

  As I watch
her lean legs sprint up the steps, I wonder how girls do anything in heels. They seem like death traps women willingly put on. I can’t complain about the way they make a woman look, but I’m momentarily grateful that men are not held to such a ridiculous standard.

  “C’mon!” she squeals, and the glint in her eyes wields more magic than I’d ever admit out loud.

  As we join the throngs of people on the street, it becomes evident that the night is just beginning in this part of LA. However, Skyler tugs me farther, passing swanky nightclubs, shops that range from the high end to the touristy and the sleazy. Though the amount of people doesn’t necessarily diminish, the glitziness of the street does as we continue on.

  I hear her small chuffs ahead of me, hinting that she’s out of breath from our rush up the street, but just as quickly as the idea pops into my head she stops, swiveling around to face me.

  “We’re here!”

  I grin, wrinkling my nose as I look over to the right. The black brick of the building offers a grungy vibe, and is lit up only by a bright red neon sign above the doorway. The neon spells out in cursive: THE ORIENTAL. The red tube of neon trails farther in the shape of an arrow, pointing directly at the open doorway.

  “The Oriental?” I whisper.

  She grabs for the bottle of wine, taking another swig. “Do you know what it’s from?”

  The question throws me as I grab for the bottle and take the last large gulp, feeling incredibly proud of us for finishing it off. “Um, should I?”

  She snorts adorably. “Yeah. You wanna be some big-time movie star and you don’t even know what the Oriental comes from? It’s from the movie Tombstone. Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday frequented the bar. I’ve heard about this place. I’ve always wanted to go inside but haven’t had a reason to check it out until now.”

  I offer her a shrug, thinking her fancy black dress is obviously too nice for the darkness the doorway exudes.

  She nods, as if dismissing my thought. “C’mon. You’ll see.”

  As she pulls me into the dingy bar, the bumping music I can hear coming from its depths contradicts its immediate antique feel. Sure enough, the place looks straight out of a western with its round tables with wooden peg chairs, and a long bar by the back wall lined with different types of whiskey backlit by the same neon red of the sign outside. The bartender even sports a handlebar mustache. However, his Sex Pistols T-shirt gives an odd twist to his appearance.

  Actually, upon closer inspection, the whole bar is a mishmash of nonsense. The wood-paneled walls clash with the patrons. It may look like I just stepped into the town of Tombstone, but the odd looks coming our way make me feel like I just entered a biker bar. Burley, shaggy-haired men drinking bottles of beer, contrast oddly with the occasional hipster and vintage-wearing woman that decorate the chairs and booths. The alternative grunge band that plays on the small stage in the back complements the patrons, and I find the longer I stare the more I begin to realize it all suits the bar itself. Go figure.

  I’m yanked back to reality as Skyler tugs me to a tall table in the back, placing her purse on it and swiveling back to me.

  “What do you think?”

  I grin. “It’s perfect. Who knew we’d end up here?”

  Assuming she’s more brazen after the wine, she smiles sweetly. “Are you gonna buy me a drink before the night’s over, then?”

  I dramatically place the empty bottle of wine on the table, grab for her petite waist, and pull her flush against me, which sends a thrill through my body. “The night has just begun. Who says I don’t already have a plan for at least the end of the night?”

  Her eyes go wide. “You do!”

  “Of course.” A smug flutter blooms in my gut as I watch her blue eyes spark with excitement. Hopefully the plan will go off without a hitch.

  A scantily clad waitress scurries by, and I keep my eyes on her face rather than her plunging cleavage, which I know is a tactic to distract. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  The tall brunette whips around, her brows twisted in annoyance, but her eyes soften as soon as she locks them with mine, and if I’m not mistaken Skyler might have just huffed.

  “Hi, can we get two shots of tequila and a whiskey on the rocks for myself?”

  “Yeah, of course. House whiskey okay?” Her voice comes off gruff like she might smoke a pack of cigarettes a day.

  I nod my agreement, and she departs.

  “Blake, what do have planned later?”

  “Uh, you, of course.”

  She rolls her eyes and guffaws, pulling out of my grasp, but halts herself, nearly running into the waitress who has our drinks already.

  “Here you go, sir.”

  The waitress slips me a sly smile as she places the shots on the table, and I’m quick to look away. I have one main focus; there’s only one person who will always have my undivided attention. I turn to Skyler, who’s already tentatively drumming her fingernails on the edge of the table while chewing her plump bottom lip.

  “Might as well keep up with this epic theme, right?” I grab for both shots, and extend one to her.

  “Yeah, after finishing an outrageously expensive bottle of wine, I love to slum it with the house tequila.”

  I let the effortless laughter emerge from my lips as she watches, amused, with a tight, admiring smile, and I don’t need to see it in this dim light to know that that wonderful rose color has risen to her cheeks.

  I raise my glass in a toast. “To us!”

  Her mouth widens in glee at the remark as she grabs for the tiny glass and brings it up to clink with mine. “To us!”

  When my eyes sync with hers I know that there’s no other place I’d rather be, and we swing back the shots. I welcome the satisfying burn down my throat.

  I watch as Skyler shakes off the aftermath of the cheap tequila, and she definitely enters the adorable zone as she shakes out her hands in waves. I’m about to make a smart-ass remark, but the live band in the back begins a new song, and the familiar bass beat of the Jane’s Addiction song “Jane Says” reverberates through the bar.

  Her blue eyes widen as she screeches, “I love this song!”

  Apparently she isn’t the only one who loves it because as she begins her somewhat out-of-character strides to the dance floor, she seems to lead the way for a few bar patrons who join her in front of the band.

  I sip on my whiskey as I admire my girl in this dingy LA bar, fueled by $150 wine and a shot of tequila. I bask in the fact she’s watching me just as intently as her hips gyrate hypnotically. Her bright blue gaze is beckoning me along with every sway of her hips to the beat of the bass drum.

  I lick my lips as I peel the restricting vest from my chest, feeling the brimming warmth from my gut that’s due to two things: alcohol, and my strange, fanatical love and obsession with that silly girl who never lets me have the last word.

  I start my strides toward her, noting with a shallow breath that with every swing of her hips her tight black dress rides up her thigh.

  I’d never question Skyler’s fidelity, but that being said, I know damn well when I have a hot girlfriend. I take a look around the room to confirm that most of the men can’t stop staring either, and I feel pretty damn smug about it.

  She’s mine, and I get to take her home with me.

  That would make any man happy.

  SKYLER

  I know the alcohol has made me bolder, but it doesn’t change the fact that the vision of Blake stalking toward me makes my mouth water and my knees go weak, not to mention the irrational need to run in the opposite direction from this distractingly handsome specimen. His debonair attitude is overwhelming, to say the least, and in a way, thank goodness for wine and tequila or I wouldn’t be able to keep up.

  I halt my hips as he approaches, and adoringly he lifts his hand to brush a curl out of my face. “Don’t stop on my account.
”

  I purse my lips into a tight smile as I grab for his shirt, tugging him even closer. “Then dance with me.”

  His laughter rumbles through his body, and its smooth sound causes the warmth in my gut to grow. He places his hands firmly on my hips, moving them to the erratic beats of Jane’s Addiction, and his own laughter becomes infectious. I notice that as soon as the sound leaves my lips, he becomes silent, replacing it with that secret smile that I’m all too fond of.

  “What are you smiling at?” I ask as I lean closer to his face, wrapping my arms securely around his neck, basking in the heat radiating off his body.

  “I wasn’t lying when I said you have me questioning everything.”

  His sweet tone has my heart fluttering, making me feel this mixture of anxious excitement and fear of the unknown, but I still can’t fight my smile.

  “What do you mean, Blake?”

  He wrinkles his nose. “I mean, about having a life worth living well. One with purpose, and one with direction.”

  Another body-racking thump of my heart hits my body, like a gong that I can feel vibrate all the way to my fingertips. “I’m afraid to ask what you mean by that.”

  He winks, stifling a chuckle as he grabs for one of my hands around his neck, and lifts it to his lips, kissing my fingers delicately while his wicked smile reveals itself. “You should be.”

  “I wish I could think straight around you,” I retort while letting out a long, drawn-out breath to gain back my focus.

  “Back ’atcha, babe. What makes you think I know up or down when I’m around you?”

  His words delight me. I press my lips gently to his mouth, pulling away before he can claim more. “I love you.”

  He lets out his own long breath in a hum of what I assume is happiness. “Life couldn’t get more perfect right now.”

  “What do you mean?” I raise a brow.

  “Here we are, not hiding. We aren’t lying about our feelings. Everything is out in the open, and you’re all mine.”

  I playfully jab him in his chest. “Hey now, I’m not some possession.” I pout as I lock eyes with his green depths, noting that it’s all I’ve ever wanted: for me to belong to him, and for him to be mine. “But I’m happy, too. I almost don’t know what to do with myself now that I don’t have to hide you.”