Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  As in—

  "Hey." Brendon's steady voice flows into my ears. He plants next to me, on the other side. His eyes go to Walker. "You mind?"

  The tattoo artists share a look. It says a lot and it's all about me.

  Still, Walker takes his leave.

  Brendon moves closer. The back of his hand brushes mine. His thigh presses against mine.

  He leans in to whisper. "I have something for you."

  "What's that?"

  "Close your eyes." His breath warms my neck. It sends shivers down my spine. It sends heat to my core.

  "Okay." I do.

  His fingers skim my shoulder. Then it's a cotton swab. Rubbing alcohol on my skin.

  He pats it dry.

  Presses something against it.

  Wets it.

  Oh...

  I turn toward him.

  He grabs my other shoulder. Stops me. "I didn't say you could open your eyes." His voice is low, demanding. That same tone he used the other night. "One more minute."

  My tongues slides over my lips. My knees knock together. My breath hitches.

  Slowly, he peels off the paper sticking to my skin. Then it's cool air on my shoulder. And his fingers curling around my wrist. Peeling my hands from my eyes.

  He takes my other hand, leads me to his chair, and turns me toward the mirror. "What do you think?"

  It's the topless mermaid he promised for my birthday. She's sitting on a rock, her long blond hair covering her chest, her green eyes on the book in her hands.

  It's perfect.

  "I love it." I can't help myself. I throw my arms around him and squeeze tightly. "Would you do it right now, if I asked?"

  "You've been drinking."

  "But tomorrow?"

  "In a week, maybe. You're not impulsive."

  "What if I asked Dean to do it?"

  "No."

  "No?"

  His voice gets stern. "No, Kay. There's no way Dean is touching you." Regret streaks his eyes. Like he wishes he hadn't said that.

  It could be normal I'm responsible for your well-being, I'm taking care of you protectiveness.

  But it's not.

  I know it.

  He knows it.

  But does he know I know?

  I stare into his dark eyes, but that doesn't offer any illumination.

  "Hey! No private conversations." Dean moves toward us. "We've got plans. Important ones."

  Brendon shoots him a really look.

  Dean shoots back a sly smile. "We're gonna play Never Have I Ever."

  "You're going to be drunk in five minutes flat." That's Leighton, the girl who works at the counter. I guess I didn't hear her come in.

  Even Ryan laughs. "I'm not carting your plastered ass home."

  "You overestimate me. It's all rumors." Dean moves toward the lobby—to the benches for customers. "Everybody get a drink. Then we'll see who wins."

  "Don't you win by losing?" Leighton asks. She runs a hand through her short, pastel pink hair. "And isn't this game for kids?" She looks to me and Emma. "No offense."

  "I think it's more for high school kids," I say.

  "But it's fun." Emma looks to Dean. "Just bring cups and whiskey."

  "Demanding," he teases back.

  "You're not used to taking orders yet?" Walker plops on the bench on the right. "Brendon and Ryan are always bossing you around."

  "You too." Dean flips him off.

  Walker shakes his head. "I don't live to irritate them."

  "You don't?" Ryan takes a seat on the other bench, as far away from Walker as possible. "That's news."

  The guys flip each other off.

  Slowly, everyone fills in the bench seats.

  Grabs a drink.

  The guys, save Ryan, are all on the other bench.

  I'm sandwiched between Emma and Leighton.

  I'm staring at Brendon, trying to figure out what the intensity in his eyes means.

  I don't know.

  I smooth my dress. Tap my toes together. Gather my hair on my right shoulder.

  This is a game you win by losing.

  Which means I don't have a chance.

  I haven't done anything. Not unless you count getting straight As and writing dirty fan fiction.

  I...

  I'm going to lose.

  And everyone is going to know.

  Everyone is going to know I'm the sweet girl who doesn't get the guy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kaylee

  Ryan holds up his drink. "Never have I ever fucked a client."

  Dean shakes his head. "Lies and slander." He takes a swig.

  Leighton taps her drink. "Define client."

  Brendon laughs. "That's a yes."

  My eyes fix on him. His drink is resting on his thigh. It's nowhere near his lips.

  He's never fucked a client.

  All he does is work and go to the gym. That means it’s been awhile. It must.

  That's something.

  Maybe this game isn't totally horrible.

  Maybe it's somehow useful.

  "I could fire you for that," Ryan says.

  "You can't fire me. I'm about to be a co-owner." Dean's voice is bouncy. Joyful. He's reveling in rubbing that in. "Besides it wasn't a client here." He stands up to take his turn and offers Ryan that same sly smirk. "Never have I ever gotten a hard-on while doing a tattoo."

  Ryan mutters under his breath. He takes a swig, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Brendon and Walker stare at him, surprise in their eyes.

  "You gonna explain?" Brendon asks.

  Ryan sets his drink on his thigh. "No."

  They stare at him.

  He stares back.

  I tap my heel against the floor. Look to Em with a shrug. She shrugs back.

  This... this isn't too bad. It's fun when it's other people getting thrown under the bus.

  Ryan folds his arms with a frown.

  Dean laughs and blows him a kiss. He nudges Brendon. "Your go."

  Brendon shoots Dean a you're annoying look. "Never have I ever embarrassed my brother in front of all his friends."

  "Bullshit. You don't have a brother." Dean looks to Emma. "And I've seen him embarrass you."

  Emma nods. "He's the worst."

  "Nah, that's me." Dean holds up his drink. "Fair is fair. You've embarrassed your sibling, so—" Dean takes a long sip.

  Brendon nods fair is fair and drinks.

  Everyone but me drinks.

  Ah, for once it's a good thing being an only child.

  Walker takes his turn. It's something about tattooing. Leighton's too.

  Then it's me. I rack my brain for something that won't out me as a naïve virgin. "Never have I ever fooled around at work."

  There are half a dozen fucks at once.

  Everyone but Emma drinks.

  Ryan shoots Leighton an incredulous look. "Who?"

  "Nice girls don't kiss and tell." Her plum lips press into a smile.

  "And that's relevant, how?" Dean teases.

  They flip each other off.

  Emma holds up her drink. "Never have I ever gone to the gym twice in a day."

  Brendon takes a drink.

  Ryan chuckles.

  One of the other guys groans.

  Someone complains. "Boring."

  Emma shrugs. "I got what I wanted. It's to you, Ryan."

  Ryan's expression sticks on Dean. It's like he's a sniper and he's lining up the perfect forehead shot. "Never have I ever lied to a woman about being in love with her."

  Dean holds his ground. "You looking at me?"

  "Yeah." Ryan stares back at his brother. "You're looking awfully sober."

  "I don't have to lie about that shit. I've got a unique charm," Dean says.

  Leighton laughs. "Okay."

  Walker joins her.

  Dean looks to Emma and me. "Back me up, ladies. You'd do me, right?"

  Emma laughs. "I like quiet guys."

 
; He mimes being stabbed in the gut.

  "And you, Kay?" Dean's gaze flits to Brendon. He's reveling in this too.

  I press my lips together. According to Walker, everyone knows. Which means Dean knows too.

  This is an opportunity.

  I smile back at Dean. "You have a certain charisma."

  Dean's smile gets even smugger. "Told you."

  Ryan shakes his head. "It's pity. That's it. She feels sorry for you."

  "Yeah? Want to hit the clubs and see who's got more charisma?" Dean's voice is a challenge. A playful challenge, but still.

  "No." Ryan just stops himself from rolling his eyes. "I have shit to do."

  I rest my cup on my thigh and focus all my energy on the amber liquid. This is supposed to be a fun game. The point is getting your friends drunk. That's it.

  I hang back for a few more rounds, laughing as the guys take shots at each other. Never have I ever used "That's nice ink" as a pick-up line.

  Never have I ever dyed my hair.

  Never have I ever worn eyeliner.

  Then Dean is standing.

  Well, trying to stand. He's well past tipsy.

  He surveys the room with the same sniper-like precision as Ryan.

  He looks to Brendon. Then to me.

  "This may be a suicide mission, but I don't care." He holds up his glass. "Never have I ever had sex."

  My fingers slip.

  Plastic bounces off the hardwood.

  Then my drink is spilling on the floor.

  And my blush is spreading all the way to my chest.

  Everyone is looking at me.

  And they know. I can see it in their faces. They know I'm a virgin.

  They know I'm head over heels for Brendon.

  They know it's never going to happen.

  "I... Um... I'll get a towel," I say.

  "I've got it." Ryan shoots his brother a death glare.

  "What?" Dean tosses his empty cup to the floor. He pulls his wallet from his jeans, pulls a hundred-dollar bill from it, and slaps it into Brendon's hands. "That's yours."

  Brendon stares daggers, but he takes the money.

  He bet Dean I was a virgin.

  "Fuck you." Brendon pushes himself to his feet.

  "It was your idea to bet," Dean says.

  "Only 'cause you wouldn't shut the fuck up." Brendon's voice is angry.

  It's never angry.

  Leighton clears her throat. "It's no big deal, Kaylee. You're better off waiting. I didn't have good sex until I was twenty-one. High school guys can't fuck for shit."

  Dean turns to me. "Being a slut is overrated."

  "Can I get that in writing?" Walker asks.

  "Yeah. I'd like to check the court record on that." Ryan tosses a towel on the spill.

  "Not everybody is as soulless and empty as I am," Dean says.

  Em looks to me. She mouths are you okay?

  No. Yes. Maybe.

  What the fuck is Brendon doing betting his friends I'm a virgin?

  "I think it's great you're waiting for someone special, Kaylee." Dean slurs his words. "But if you're not." He motions to the private suite in the back. The one reserved for especially intimate tattoos. "I'm more than happy to pop that cherry for you. I'll show you the night of your life."

  "Right." I plaster on a smile. I know Dean is joking. I can tell he's trying to get a rise out of Brendon.

  But it's not funny.

  It's not funny that everyone is laughing about the inexperienced girl with a crush on the guy way out of her league.

  I push myself to my feet. "Excuse me. I'm going to get some air." I reach for the door.

  Walker laughs. "Dean, you're that repulsive."

  The door swings shut.

  A tear rolls down my cheek. Then another.

  I move around the corner. Find a spot against the wall—one where no one can see me—and I slink to my knees.

  Tears stain my skin.

  This is all fucked.

  I can't even enjoy a party.

  I can't enjoy anything.

  I'm a broken freak. I'll always be a broken freak.

  Why would Brendon want me anyway? He has his pick of any nice, normal girl. Plenty who are prettier, smarter, funnier, bolder than I am.

  I suck a breath through my teeth and let out a slow exhale. It does nothing to ease the tension in my shoulders. Or back. These heels are awful. How does Emma wear these things all the time?

  The bell rings as the shop door opens.

  Steady footsteps move toward me.

  Then it's Brendon's voice flowing into my ears. "Dean's an asshole."

  I press my fingers into my thighs. "It takes two people to bet."

  Brendon stops next to me and drops to one knee. "I'm sorry, Kay."

  I keep my eyes on my legs. "Why?"

  "Huh?"

  "Why are you sorry?"

  "I shouldn't let him talk about you like that."

  "Why?"

  "It doesn't matter if you're a virgin," he says.

  "But why don't you want Dean talking about me like that?"

  He sits next to me. His fingertips trail over the backs of my hands. "You're barely eighteen."

  "So?"

  He draws a star on the back of my hand. "Look at me, Kay."

  I shake my head.

  He peels my hands off my knees. Takes one between his thumb and his palm and runs his thumb over my fingers.

  I force myself to look him in the eyes. "If you're going to tell me I'm a sweet girl, you can leave now."

  "It's not an insult."

  "It feels like it. Like I'm a puppy."

  "You're not. Puppies are energetic."

  I can't help but laugh. And flip him off.

  "You're more like a cat. Independent. Smart. Patient."

  "Moody and difficult?"

  "No." He moves closer. "It doesn't matter if you're a virgin. No one cares."

  "I care."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Fuck you."

  "It wouldn't be hard for you to find a guy to fuck."

  "How do you know?" My temper flares. He's such a fucking know it all. "Maybe I haven't slept with anyone because no one wants me."

  "Bullshit. Every guy in that room would kill for a chance with you."

  "Kill who?"

  "Me. That's the only way it would happen." His eyes bore into mine. "You're fucking irresistible, Kaylee."

  "But you..." You're resisting me just fine even with all the illicit things you want to do to me.

  I've seen your journal.

  I know how you think of me.

  I...

  I stare back at him. "Do you mean you..." My voice is soft. Barely a whisper. "Do you want me?"

  He plants his palm against my check. Wipes a stray tear with his thumb. "It doesn't matter. I'm your guardian. That's it."

  "What if you weren't?"

  "I am."

  "But what if that didn't matter? What if we were just two people who wanted each other? If I had my own place and my own life?" I lean into his touch. "Would you want me then?"

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brendon

  There's vulnerability in Kaylee's green eyes.

  No matter what I say, my answer is going to break her.

  I don't want you.

  I want you, but we can't be together.

  She presses her fingertips into her knees. Her eyes stay fixed on mine.

  They demand an answer.

  God, I wish I could tell her what she wants to hear.

  I wish we lived in some alternate universe where this could happen.

  "Brendon." Her voice is shaky. "I'm not leaving until you answer."

  "You're my best friend, Kay."

  She stares back at me as if to say and?

  "If a million things were different, yeah. But they're not. Why focus on what ifs?"

  "But you... you want to be with me." She sits up straighter. "You want to fuck me."

  "If you wer
e some girl I knew, one who wanted me, then yeah, I'd fuck you."

  "But you... do you want it now?"

  Fuck yeah.

  Let's go home now.

  Straight to my room.

  I'll strip you out of that dress.

  Pin you to my bed.

  Teach you every fucking thing you need to know.

  Her voice gets firm. Confident. "You must have bet Dean for a reason. Because you like the idea of me as a virgin."

  "No. It didn't mean anything."

  That's bullshit.

  I fucking love that Kaylee is a virgin. I love the idea of being the first person inside her. Of my name being the first on her lips. Of my hand being the first on her ass.

  It's not because I'm hot for virgins.

  It's because it's Kay. Because she's an angel. Because she's sweet. Because I want to watch her bloom in every fucking way she can.

  "It doesn't matter, Kay. We can't." I take her hand and pull her to her feet. "Get the thought out of your head."

  "What if it won't go?"

  "It will. It just takes time." I take a step backward. I can't lie to her. Not when she's looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes. "Forget about me. Find another guy. One you actually want to be with."

  "But I..." Her eyes turn down. She wraps her arms around her chest. "I need to get my purse."

  "I will. Stay here."

  She nods.

  I move back into the shop.

  Everyone—save Ryan and Dean—is sitting on the benches. Staring at me like I'm holding a hundred-thousand-dollar vase.

  Emma glares at me. "Is she okay?"

  "Yeah," I say.

  "Why would you bet Dean about that?" Emma grabs Kaylee's pink purse as she pushes herself to her feet.

  "We get bored. Look for stuff to do." More bullshit.

  Walker shoots me an incredulous look.

  I shoot him a shut the fuck up.

  Leighton shakes her head I don't think so, but Emma doesn't notice.

  My sister moves toward the door. "I'll take her home." She grabs the door. "I'm tired anyway."

  I nod. "You okay walking?"

  "It's only five blocks." Emma steps outside without glancing in my direction. Pure cold shoulder.

  Walker shakes his head. "You're lucky Ryan didn't hear that." He looks to Leighton for support.

  She wraps a pink strand around her finger. It matches the cherry blossom tattoo on her forearm.

  "You have something to add?" I ask.

  She brings her hand to her other arm. "Kaylee deserves better."