Eyes Turned Skyward

by Rebecca Yarros

  “Lee?” Morgan questioned. “Dance? Really?”

  “Club La Vela is here,” Jagger offered. “It’s pretty legendary.”

  “Like the-biggest-club-in-the-nation legendary,” Masters commented.

  “It’s my birthday,” I all but begged Morgan. “Have you ever heard me want to go out?”

  She shook her head and pulled me aside. “No, but do you think it’s the best idea?”

  “Yes.”

  Morgan sighed. “Just keep it within reason.”

  “Oh, come on. This is me we’re talking about.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jagger

  You’ve always seen my loss of control, my recklessness as my biggest weakness. Maybe, just maybe, it’s my greatest asset.

  The Thanksgiving-weekend crowd packed the club, and the music was loud, pumping through me in rhythm with my heartbeat. Paisley leaned across the bar, her ass in the air, and I glared one of the eager assholes away. Her perfect lips closed around the straw of her third drink, and that wink she just gave me said she was definitely feeling it.

  Morgan slid behind her, having been dancing the whole time. “Enough!” she yelled, trying to be heard above the thumping bass.

  “I’m twenty-one, Morgan. Give me a night!” She threw her arm over Morgan’s shoulder and hopped off the bar stool, wavering a second before she steadied.

  She glared at the empty glasses in front of her. “Three? You know better!”

  “Morgan, give her a break. Most twenty-one-year-olds are blasted and puking by now. We’re lucky she’s still conscious.” Masters rolled his eyes over his sweet tea.

  “Well, she didn’t tell you that drinking interferes with her medication, did she?” Morgan asked.

  “Her asthma meds? I had no clue.” Shit. I was the one who’d offered her the first drink.

  “Asthma? Oof!” Morgan picked up her left foot, rubbing the insole.

  “You okay?” Paisley asked.

  She grimaced through a smile. “Yeah, just…stubbed my toe. Damn peep-toes.” She glared at Paisley.

  “I think I’ll be okay for one night, Morgan. Checking off boxes and all.” They had some kind of silent girl exchange where they spoke through hand gestures and eyebrows. I needed an interpreter or another beer.

  “I want to dance!” Paisley declared, wiggling her ass. She’d ditched the long-sleeved tee in the car, opting for the low-cut tank top I’d bought her at the concert, and now I wished she’d kept the other one on. The curves of her breasts were too visible, too close, and way too much. “Jagger?” She turned those green eyes on me and didn’t look away while she pulled her hair into some kind of knot on her head. Sexy little tendrils escaped, framing her face.

  “Dance?” I croaked.

  That grin just about destroyed me. “Friends dance.”

  She slid past me, catching my hand and pulling me onto the already crowded floor, and I followed after her. I kept a respectable distance, which in a club this packed meant about an inch or two. The couples around us writhed to the music, more than a few in various stages of base running.

  She raised her arms above her head and closed her eyes in abandon, her body moving with the beat of the music. She was exquisite and erotic in the same breath, and I was hypnotized.

  Her eyes opened at the same moment she brought her arms down and put her hands on my chest. Her eyes lifted in open challenge, which I blatantly ignored until she grasped both my hands and put them on her hips.

  Okay. I could do this. I fought the impulse to grasp her curves and pull her to me, and I succeeded…until she brought her body against me.

  “Fuck,” I hissed as she slipped one of her legs between mine, straddling my thigh.

  “That’s better,” she purred.

  I gave in and moved with her, careful not to let my hands slip to that delectable curve of her ass that I’d been drooling over all night. Like she’d read my mind and decided to test my resolve, she turned abruptly, giving me her back, and pushed into me. Her hands roved up and down my thighs, then reached behind her to stroke the sides of my abs. Did she just— Yep. She lifted my shirt and ran her hands over my bare skin.

  Her touch burned me, the heat spearing through my body and concentrating in the one area I couldn’t exactly hide while she was grinding against me. Damn it, in less time than it took the song to change, I was hard as the poles holding up the bar.

  Paisley finally figured it out, gasping and stilling her movements. My fingers flexed on her hips, waiting for her to react. One breath. Two. She turned her head toward me and met my eyes. Her pupils were blown, covering most of the green in her eyes. I knew it was the alcohol, but she was blurring my judgment, especially when her lips parted and she dipped a few inches and then rose, rubbing against my dick.

  I groaned, and she picked up the beat. Sweat broke out on both of us as the song changed. The tiny drops along her skin reflected the colors from the lights.

  She brought her arms up, bending at the elbows to stroke the slick skin on the back of my neck and raising her breasts. I looked away, knowing there was a line, and she may have been dancing right across it, but I couldn’t. Not while she was drunk.

  Her watch beeped, close to my ear. She didn’t seem to hear it, so I brought her wrist in front of her face, rubbing my thumb into her palm. She stilled long enough to turn off the beeping and then turned in my arms and pressed against me.

  “You’re killing me, Paisley,” I growled into her ear.

  She giggled, dragging me farther over the edge. “Tell me something. Do friends kiss?” Then she took my earlobe in her mouth and set her teeth lightly to the skin.

  Holy. Shit. “Depends on the kind of kiss.” I tried to keep my brains in my head and not my pants.

  She pulled back a couple inches and her gaze dropped to my lips, her tongue slipping out to wet her own. “What about this?” She balanced on her toes and kissed me. The pressure of her lips was sweet against mine, despite the groping going on around us. She dragged my lower lip in a soft bite as she withdrew slowly.

  “Don’t I get a birthday kiss?” she slurred.

  Her half-lidded eyes locked with mine, and yeah, the alarm blared in my head that she was acting on alcohol, but I was intoxicated simply by her. I met her halfway, gripping her hip in one hand and cupping her face in the other. My mouth slanted over hers, and she opened for me as my tongue slipped beyond the barrier of her teeth to caress hers.

  She tasted like pineapple from her drinks, and I couldn’t help but kiss her deeper, longer. She pushed against me, and I barely suppressed a groan. I hadn’t imagined it in the library; kissing Paisley was better than sex with any other girl I’d ever been with. Her grip tightened on my neck, and my hand shifted to her ass—to support her, I justified. She went all soft and pliant, ready for whatever I wanted. That moment of her absolute surrender—the moment I’d usually declare victory and head to the car to get laid—it jarred me more than any slap could have.

  This was Paisley, the same girl I’d pulled from the water. The same girl I knew didn’t give kisses lightly, let alone initiate them on a very public dance floor. This was the alcohol acting, and while I could pull the douche move and argue that I’d been drinking, too, it just wasn’t good enough for me, and was far less than what she deserved.

  There weren’t enough curse words for how hard it was, but I managed to break away. “That is most definitely not a friend kiss.”

  “But it’s fun.” Her smile slipped past tipsy and into the realm of drunk.

  I kissed her forehead, lingering in the scent of her hair and tinge of salt in her skin. “Let’s get you home, Little Bird.”

  Someone behind me pulled Paisley’s arm from around my neck, and I nearly punched them before I realized it was Morgan. She flashed Paisley’s watch in her face. “Twice, Lee. I know it’s your birthday, but let’s not overdo it.”

  My forehead puckered as Paisley glared at her best friend. “Are you my mother?”
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br />   Morgan sighed. “You’re so fun when you’re drunk.”

  Paisley giggled. “I am not”—she snorted—“drunk.”

  “She’s a lightweight.” I laughed.

  “Other than the beer Will fed her the summer we were fifteen, this is the first time she’s had alcohol.” She fought it, but a smile grew from a quirked lip to a full-blown grin. “Ah, my Lee.” She cupped her face. “It’s not often that I’m the responsible one, but you’re drunker than Cooter Brown.”

  “What?”

  Paisley threw her arms around me again, laughing. “That’s southern for ‘take the girl home.’”

  “Gladly.” I looped my arm around her waist and walked out, collecting Masters in our wake. He unlocked the doors, and I boosted Paisley up.

  “Sit with me?” she asked, and because I was stupid, or masochistic, whatever, I agreed. Truthfully, I was starved for her, and would take just about anything I could get. I buckled her in as Morgan and Masters took the front seats.

  The lights along the highway illuminated her face as we left Panama City Beach. Leaving her lap belt on, she leaned over, put her head in my lap, and looked up at me. The music from the front seat made us feel isolated.

  “Why do you want to fly so badly?”

  Of all the questions she could have asked, at least this one I knew the answer to. “My father took me to an air show when I was ten, and there was an Apache there. The pilot put me in the cockpit and it just felt like…home. Like that was where I was meant to be. I remember looking up through the glass and seeing the rotors against the blue sky and thinking that was how I wanted to spend my life. Then the next year, on my birthday, my mom had a private ride set up for me. Not in an Apache, of course, but from that moment, that was all I ever wanted to do—fly.”

  “‘For once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will long to return.’” She smiled softly. “Da Vinci.”

  My thumbs slipped across her cheeks. “Yes, exactly like that.”

  “Your mom, is she proud?”

  My smile faltered. “Quid pro quo.”

  “Of course.”

  “Why are you so hell-bent on friends only? Is it because of Will?” If she was going for my deepest secrets, I was going for hers.

  She let loose a huge sigh. “Ah, Will. It’s not so much about him. I mean, in a way. It would call my morals into question if I jumped from him to you, right? But more than that, I don’t want to distract you…or hurt you. Not knowing how badly you want to fly. It’s not that I don’t want you, Jagger. I’m just scared I’d destroy you.” She nuzzled the side of her face into my hand while I tried to recover. “Your mom?”

  Of course. My instinct was to deflect, to kiss her into forgetting she’d asked, or to deny outright. But I wanted her. Every part of her. Which meant I was going to have to show her every part of me, even the ugly sides, and just pray she didn’t run. “She died when I was sixteen. Fell off her bedroom balcony and broke her neck on impact. It was the stupidest way for a woman like her to die. She was beautiful, and smart, and so…alive, always seeking out the next thrill, never content with, well, contentment. Oh, and she made the best brownies.” I left out the part where her white nightgown had been soaked in her blood when I looked over the banister.

  “Oh my God, Jagger. I’m so sorry.”

  I forged ahead, not letting the emotion in, but I wanted—needed her to know. “My father…he wasn’t around much, even when I was little. He showed up when he needed us, and left us to our own devices a lot of the time. Nothing changed after she died.”

  “Is that why you left?”

  My jaw flexed, and I ignored that one. We weren’t going near that…near Anna. “For my sixteenth birthday, my mom got me flying lessons. I took my final check ride the day I turned seventeen and legally became a commercial pilot.”

  “You left the next day.”

  “That’s why this is easy for me now. It’s never been just about flying, and always about Apaches.” I pressed my lips together to keep from telling her anything else.

  “Thank you for tonight, for telling me.”

  I stroked my fingers down her cheek, and let my thumb brush across her lips. “Happy birthday, Paisley.”

  “One more question?”

  “You’re killing me.” Damn those eyes and her ability to draw shit out of me.

  “I know, but if you had your choice, with me…what would you choose?”

  The alcohol made her bold.

  “What do you mean?” I dodged.

  “Friends? A relationship? A steamy fling? What?”

  I swallowed, wishing she was sober for this kind of conversation. “You said just friends, and I’m trying to respect that. I know you just got out of a relationship.”

  “What do you want?” she asked again, a little plea in her tone.

  I stared down at her and saw the two possibilities clearly. I could leave my defenses intact, play the friends card and continue on. Or I could take a chance at being wrecked, burning myself to the ground. Who the hell was I kidding? I was already on fire for her. My heart had screamed out mine the moment I carried her from the water, and hadn’t quit since.

  “Jagger?” her voice was softer.

  Fuck it.

  “I want everything, Paisley. I want your smiles, your laughs, your kisses. Yes, I want to be your friend, and more. I want to feel your arms around me at night, taste your kiss for breakfast, and I want to hear my name on your lips when I make you come apart. I want to study on the couch while you do your homework. I want to fight with you and make up with you. I want to shoulder the burdens you’re carrying, even the ones you still won’t tell me about, and I want…I want everything.”

  She stared at me, tiny breaths exhaling from her parted lips. “And if I can’t give you that? If the most I can be is friends?”

  I bent down, the angle awkward, and kissed her, only tracing the seam of her lips with my tongue lightly before raising my head. “That’s the thing. I’ll settle for any part you want to give me. That’s how badly I want every part of you.”

  “I don’t want to be broken,” she muttered, her eyes finally losing the battle and fluttering shut.

  “You’re not,” I reassured her, stroking her hair from her face, knowing she’d passed out.

  It wasn’t clear, but I heard her mumble, “One hundred forty-three days, Jagger…one hundred forty-three days.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Paisley

  26. Take a road trip.

  Christmas Eve—118 days. I finished the bow on Daddy’s present just after lunch and carried the package over to the tree. I stood and admired the tree, watching the way the lights caught in the colorful ornaments.

  I loved Christmas, and this year everything about the season seemed to slip by between studying, finals, and spending time with Jagger. Not that we’d crossed over that friends line again. Oh, no.

  He’d appeared the morning after my birthday with a giant bottle of water and Tylenol. Then he sat through all the Twilight movies while he studied next to me, only looking up to make sarcastic comments about sparkly beta males.

  We’d spent our time studying next to each other, talking, swimming, and spending every available moment together up to a good-night. The last month had been the best and most aggravating of my life. The best, because he was near me at every available opportunity. The most aggravating because the more I wanted him, the more I knew I shouldn’t.

  My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket. I thumbed open the screen and smiled.

  Jagger: Merry Xmas Eve. Looks like snow here 2night. Jealous?

  Me: Insanely. Having fun in Nashville?

  Jagger: Kind of. I miss my friend.

  Me: Miss you, too. Tell Ember I said hi.

  Jagger: Will do, Little Bird.

  Me: What are you hoping to get for Christmas?

  Jagger: U in a big red bow.

 
; Me: You’re incorrigible.

  Jagger: I prefer tenacious, driven, determined.

  Me: LOL. Go celebrate.

  I sighed, the sound horribly melodramatic, and wondered for the millionth time if I was an idiot for not being with him. My cell phone sounded again, this time with the alarm for my meds, and as I popped those three pills, I was more resolute in my decision.

  I had 118 days, and losing a friend? That was recoverable. But losing someone you loved? That would destroy Jagger. My test results had been in for over two weeks. The obstruction was getting worse, but the medications were slowing my heartbeat, keeping me relatively symptom-free. Maybe that was a curse, to feel blissfully unaware as my body fell apart while I was still in it. If I was dying, shouldn’t I feel it?

  The dogs barked as the front door opened. “Ah, Will!” Mama announced. What in the world? “I’m so glad you’re here. Lee!” she called out as I rounded the corner into the entry hall. “Look who’s here to see you.”

  She whispered in my ear as she passed, “You fix this, Lee. It’s just not right. He’s family.”

  I grimaced but didn’t answer her. “Hi there.”

  He smiled, but it was reserved. He waited until Mama left and then motioned to the staircase. We both took a seat. “Your mom told me I needed to come over and talk to you.”

  “Of course she did. Never could stop meddling.”

  “Everything okay?” he asked. “Finals go all right?”

  “Yeah, nothing much has changed. Still carrying a four-point-oh. You?”

  “I’m good. I think I’ve edged out Bateman on the OML, so I’ve got that going for me.”

  I ignored his jab. “You’ve got more than that going for you.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Man, do I miss you. Being apart for a month has been awful, but really good for me, too. It gave me time to think.”

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I responded honestly.

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, so this is awkward as hell, but why aren’t you dating him?”

  “Is that really your business?”

  He laughed. “Girlfriend or not, you’ve always been my business, Lee. Besides, Peyton made me promise to look after you, and I always will.”