What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  He makes his way through the crowd and over to me, but I turn and lead him out of the living room before he comes into contact with me. We make our way to the bathroom and he rushes inside. I slam the door shut and pivot to face him.

  He grabs me by the waist and zooms in for a kiss, but I arch back. “No. We’re not having sex in the bathroom.”

  “Oh?”

  “I brought you in here to talk away from prying ears.”

  He rolls his head and moans. “Are we just gonna talk? Can I at least go get a beer?”

  My eyes squint. “Are you serious?”

  “That depends on how long we’re gonna be in here,” he chuckles.

  “Not long enough for you to sober up.”

  “Good.”

  I glare at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you were Joey’s cousin?”

  “I didn’t know you knew him.” He shrugs roughly and bumps his shoulder into his chin. “Ow.”

  “We’re the same age in the same small town. Of course I know him.”

  “I guess I just didn’t think about it. I thought you were older.”

  “How old do I look?”

  “Twenty-five?”

  My lips pull tight.

  “I’m kidding.”

  The night at the fair, he was sweet and genuine. Now he’s making jokes about my age. That’s obviously the quickest way to a girl’s heart. I punch him in the chest.

  “Ow,” he whines, rubbing his chest. “I’m gonna need medical attention by the time we get out of here.”

  “The point is that I know him. I know him very well, and not to scare you away, but his best friend is my ex-boyfriend,” I say. “And do I really look twenty-five?”

  He shakes his head, smiles and runs his palm against my face. “No. You look beautiful.”

  Every damn time he says that, I lose track of my inner monologue. “Stop…”

  “No,” he says firmly and lowers his hands to my waist.

  I don’t stop him this time but lean in instead. “Not to sound like a creep, but I’ve kind of missed you.”

  “It’s okay. I like creeps and I’ve missed you, too.”

  His eyes ask for permission before he leans in and kisses me. It’s everything I remembered, plus his intoxicating beer breath. His fingers dance on my hip as he draws me in closer. There’s a pulse in his jeans, and I pull back.

  “When we leave this bathroom, don’t go around blabbing about how you just kissed the prettiest girl at the party, because then everyone will know it was me,” I say. “Except Cassadee. She’ll probably think it was her.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Some bitch.”

  “She easy?” he asks with a smirk.

  “Like reading a how-to manual.”

  “Wow. Looks like I’m barking up the wrong tree.”

  I push my thigh into his groin, pushing him back against the pristine pedestal sink. “Shut up.”

  “Okay.”

  And it’s me kissing him this time. More passionately than I should if I ever had any intention of playing coy. I think it’s crystal clear there won’t be any playing hard-to-get in whatever this is between the two of us. I bring one hand to his chest, stopping him from diving into my mouth. “Don’t take this the wrong way—”

  His breath is sharp and ragged. “I don’t think there’s room to take this the wrong way. Unless that knee of yours should jerk into my—”

  “Not that.” I stand back. “I like you, and I’m glad you came tonight, but right now, we need to keep this private.”

  He leans in and whispers, “Isn’t that why we’re in the bathroom?”

  “I’m talking about everything. I don’t think my ex is over me, and I haven’t even told him I’m not going to college, which is the entire reason we broke up in the first place.”

  He sucks on his lip and folds his arms as he leans against the sink. “He’s your ex, and I’m sure it’s for a reason, but do you really owe him that?”

  “I just need to talk to him first.”

  “I guess I understand.” He nods and stands up straight. “But I’m ready to drink.”

  I grab him by his arm as he walks past me and opens the door. “Blue?”

  He twists on his heel. “Yeah?”

  And I kiss him again.

  Cassadee’s all up in my face. I wish she were fighting me, but she’s doing far worse. She’s talking to me. Grunts and moans would probably pass for intelligent conversation with this imbecile. But I accidentally bumped into her in my race out of the bathroom and was forced to stick around after apologizing.

  “Oh, my God. Sarah Palin is such a twat,” she says to me. I definitely agree with her there, but I don’t know where Cassadee’s sudden passion for years-old politics is coming from. Saturday Night Live reruns, perhaps? “She’s the reason I got into politics. Somebody has to stand up to her.”

  Stand up to her? She’s as irrelevant as tartar sauce at Taco Bell.

  “Totally agree.” I’m regretting not staying locked away with Blue. I could be getting fucked on a bathroom sink, but instead I’m being sprayed with the spit of a wilder beast.

  “I never saw you as the brainy type.”

  Excuse me? I wasn’t the valedictorian, but I’m pretty sure a three-point-four beats a one-point-zero. The former is about a B and the latter is about a D. I think those are pretty accurate digits in multiple facets of our lives, including our breasts, which is the only thing she’ll ever have on me.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” I say and reach into my pocket for my phone that isn’t ringing. I put one finger up to her. “My mom’s calling. I’ll be right back.”

  I walk away in a hurry with my phone pressed against my ear. Too occupied conversing with Casper the Friendly Ghost, I stumble into Joey and Blue. “Hi,” I say enthusiastically.

  “Are you talking to us or your phone?” Joey asks.

  “You. There’s nobody on the phone.” I lower my phone and push it into my pocket.

  “Hi,” Blue says, reaching out a friendly hand to me. “Nice to meet you.”

  He’s definitely overplaying the We haven’t met before card, but it impresses me that he took the initiative. His grip is tight as I shake his hand. “Hi, Blue.”

  Shit. I’m not supposed to know him.

  Joey zeroes in on me. “Do you know my cousin?”

  My instincts scream three words: deny, deny, and deny.

  “I’ve met him before,” says not-my-gut.

  He laughs. “Are you the girl from the carnival?”

  Huh? What? Who? The Girl? From the carnival? My eyes shift to Blue, rubbing the back of his head, looking not at me, but past me. I’ll deal with him later. “Not there.” I shake my head.

  “Fender bender,” Blue blurts out.

  “Huh?” I say. Blue’s eyes beam toward me. “Yeah… he hit me. I was sitting at a green light and up he came and bumped right into me.”

  “The light was green.” Blue motions with a flat hand. “And I yelled Green means go.”

  “That’s not how it—”

  “So then I rammed her in the ass.” He shrugs. “But we’re cool now.”

  “Yeah. We’re cool. He agreed to pay me five hundred dollars for damages if I didn’t get the police involved.”

  “But I already paid her. So we’re cool.”

  “Actually, I haven’t received a penny yet.”

  “Well, it’s in the mail.”

  Well, this cover up is certainly escalating to absurd levels of stupidity, but don’t think I’m not going to get my money’s worth. “Oh, I forgot to give you my address. That’s probably why I haven’t received it yet.”

  It’s becoming a game to the both of us, and I have to admit, it’s kind of fun. Every time we say something, Joey’s head shifts toward whoever is lying at that moment. He can’t be stupid enough to believe either of us, but I guess we’ll find out.

  “Of course you did. You probably don’t remember because you were drinking,” Bl
ue says and bumps Joey with his elbow. He has a winning smile, and I could smack the shit out of him.

  “You were drinking and driving?” Joey asks with his mouth agape. I’ve always been that friend who lectures others on the dangers of driving drunk.

  “Before noon,” Blue adds while shaking his head in disapproval.

  “Of course I wasn’t drinking and driving.” I’m now faced with a decision. I can continue along with this ridiculous charade and enroll myself in a string of lectures from concerned friends, or I could out myself as the whore of the county fair. “For fuck’s sake. I met him at the carnival!”

  Joey’s head sinks, his mouth dropping in shock. He’s either surprised his cousin could get someone like me or flabbergasted that I would sleep with a carnie. I don’t know how much Blue told him, but I guess it was too fucking much.

  “I told you she was pretty,” Blue says to Joey with the widest, most innocent grin.

  Chapter Eight

  I walk by Joey, who is passed out on the couch on my way to the kitchen. I’m not going to come out and say that I got him as drunk as possible so that he would forget that I was the girl in the grass outside the carnival. I will admit that, against my own better judgment, I encouraged him to bong a half bottle of Jack, however.

  He’s lying on his stomach, so on the off chance he upchucks while he sleeps I think he’ll be safe. Since I’ll probably be up all night, I can keep a close eye on him. That’s what friends do. Get each other blackout drunk, and then babysit them until sunrise.

  The kitchen is a mess, much like the rest of the house. The floor is soaked with beer, whiskey and over by the sink, a small puddle of vomit. During parties, Summer attempts to keep a clean house but the higher her blood alcohol content, the more trashed the house becomes. At this rate, she’ll still be drunk when driving to State tomorrow.

  There is no ice left in the makeshift cooler in the sink. All that’s left are two bottles of beer. I grab them both. On my way back outside, I make a pit stop in the bathroom. As I swing the door open, I see Dylan lying on the floor with his head propped against the toilet. He’s asleep, so it’s best that I don’t bother him. I do have to pee, though. Quite the conundrum.

  I pull the front door shut behind me and toss a beer to Blue, who’s sitting on an antique wooden porch swing. “Be right back,” I say and gallop down the steps.

  “Where you going?”

  “Please don’t make me shatter all illusion of mystery.”

  Once I get to the side of the house and behind a thick bush, I pull my jeans down and take care of business. Like a horror movie, I hear a twig snap and leaves rustle. My head jerks and I grab hold of my jeans, prepared to run.

  “I knew it!” Blue shouts accusingly through the darkness.

  “Yeah, you caught me, but I’m telling you right now that I don’t poop because girls don’t do that. Now turn around.”

  He does as told. I pull my jeans back up and stand. “Where’s my beer?” Oh, there it is. Lying sideways in a puddle of piss. “Shit.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll share mine.” Blue grabs my hand. “Come on.”

  Four in the morning and we are the only ones still awake. The bench rocks back and forth gently. Swaying. It’s as if we’re at sea. There’s a calmness in the way the morning air tangles around us. It’s not like the afternoon or evening air when it all feels so thick and dense. I can’t be the only one who notices the quiet beauty in it. Billions of people are awake in this world at any given second, but here in Lakeview, it’s as if we have the city to ourselves.

  Blue takes a swig of beer and the world is quiet enough that I hear it rush down the back of his throat. “It’s quiet,” he says.

  “It’s four in the morning.”

  “I’m used to it. Being the only person in the world awake.” His body shifts on the swing, making himself more comfortable. “I could never really sleep at night.”

  “But you worked during the day.”

  “I wasn’t the most responsible worker.” He laughs and brings his arm behind me, gripping the back of the swing and causing us to jolt before settling back into a rhythmic swinging pattern.

  “You really should find some time to sleep. It’s kind of important, since you can’t live without it.”

  “What you can’t really live without is dreaming.”

  “How drunk are you? You dream when you sleep.”

  “Not if you’re doing it right. There’s nothing in the world comparable to dreaming when you’re wide awake.”

  “I don’t know about that. I believe your subconscious can tap into your wants and desires more than you ever could. It’s like everything is locked deep somewhere inside, and the only way to retrieve it is to fall asleep. Then you drift away and find everything you never even knew you wanted.”

  Or you find Freddy Krueger.

  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t need my subconscious to tell me what I want. I dream with my eyes wide open, and right now, I’m dreaming about you.” He sets the bottle of beer on the railing beside him, then straightens himself out and turns his gaze to me. “I’ve thought about you every moment of every day since that night we met.”

  “I don’t know if I should be flattered or creeped out.”

  “A little bit of both, perhaps?”

  “Let’s stick with flattered.”

  “I was hoping you would say that.” He rubs his palms against his jeans, stands up, and offers me his hand. “Come?”

  “That depends on where we’re going.”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “There’s something you should know about me, Blue.” I stand up and take his hand. “I’m not big on surprises.”

  “Then why did you take my hand?”

  “Because I’m drunk and not in control of my actions.”

  “Is that right?” he asks through thin lips. He pulls me by the hand, down the antique steps and into the center of the road where we come to an abrupt stop. He pivots on his feet and grabs my free hand, locking us together at the fingers. “Will you dance with me, Charlie Brown?”

  I throw my head back, laughing. “Charlie Brown?”

  “I’m just making assumptions since you never told me your last name.”

  “It’s Scott,” I say as we begin dancing in a slow circle. “And yours?”

  His lips crumple contemplatively. “You know? I haven’t decided that yet.”

  My eyes narrow on him. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t need to look at me that way. I’m not crazy. I swear. I’ve just decided that I’d rather be anyone else than who my parents wanted me to be. Including my name.”

  “Are you saying that Blue isn’t your real name?”

  “I’m saying that someone would have to be pretty different to name their child that.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I like it. It has a unique ring to it.”

  “Does it, Pink?”

  “Definitely.”

  One hand lets go of me as he spins back, expecting me to roll into his arms like we’re on Dancing with the Stars. I relax my chest before giving it a whirl but end up twisting my ankle. The only thing that saves me from the asphalt is the quickness of his hand as he catches my fall.

  “Let me take you on a real date.” His strong grip holds me by the small of my back. If I say no, he could drop me against the cracked pavement. “It won’t be anywhere fancy because I’m not that kind of guy. We won’t go to a five-star or even a four-star restaurant, but I’ll take you somewhere you’ll never forget.”

  I lift myself up and grab him by the waist as we resume dancing in circles. “It’s okay. I’m not into fancy anyway.”

  “So why don’t you give me your address, and I’ll pick you up Monday at noon?”

  “How are you going to write down my number if you don’t even have a phone?”

  “I’ve got an excellent memory. You know people were able to manage their lives perfectly fine without phones, right?”
/>
  “I wouldn’t remember that dark time in history.”

  “My parents would never let me forget it.” He lets go of me and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Sharpie marker.

  “Handy,” I say, impressed. “Got any other tools in there?”

  “Nothing you haven’t seen.” He winks. “Give me your arm.”

  I do as told and he scribbles a permanent message on my arm: You have a date Monday with your favorite carnie, Blue.

  “Definitely won’t forget about it now.” I grab the marker out of his hand and pull his arm to me. “Do you have any idea how many showers I’m going to have to take to wash this off?” I ask as I scribble my own message on his arm—my address. I’m drunk so I hope I don’t flub the house number, or worse—like accidentally give him my dad’s address. That would be a disaster.

  I push the marker into his pocket and fold my hands into his again. We resume dancing, and I secretly hope the sun never comes up. I could stay here forever, or at least until I pass out.

  Chapter Nine

  My head thumps before I’ve even opened my eyes. The back of my throat is dry with the aftertaste of binge drinking. When my eyes blink open, everything’s a blur. Must be Sunday. I wonder what time it is—it has to be at least noon.

  The alarm clock next to my bed is lying because it says it’s three. Did I miss the rollback of the clocks? God, I hope not, because then it would actually be four. I think. I need a glass of water, but the bathroom is what seems like miles away. I’m going to die in this bed. It’d probably be more enjoyable than Sunday dinner with dad.

  Shit!

  I throw my comforter off my body, prepared to jump out of bed, but my legs don’t cooperate. I could miss one dinner. No biggie. He thinks I’m visiting from college since I still haven’t told him yet. Theoretically, I could tell him that I can’t make it because of schoolwork. On the other hand, if I do go, I could guilt trip him into giving me money for books. Could I go that far down the rabbit hole?