The Fragile Line: Part One (The Fine Line #2)

by Alicia Kobishop

  “That’s great, Chloe. I’m so happy for you,” she said lazily.

  “His name is Ryan. He used the old ‘you look familiar’ pick up line, but it was actually really cute the way he said it. He even insisted I looked like someone named Erica at first. We went to this little diner after the concert and even though our friends were with us, it was like we were in a bubble, just the two of us. Oh my God, Brynn, it was magical! His eyes are like the deepest part of the ocean, and his hair is like the sand. I can’t wait to see him again.”

  “What time is it anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Two. Maybe three.”

  “In the morning?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Don’t you have school?”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Chloe, what the hell?” She sat straight up. “I know you don’t have a curfew, but seriously? Don’t you think you’ll be a little tired for school? Don’t you think that’s more of a priority than some boy?”

  “No, actually,” I said, taken aback at her uncharacteristic behavior, “I don’t. And he’s not some boy. I really like him. And he happens to be twenty-one.”

  “Twenty-one?” she shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Chloe. Think about that for a second. What do you think a twenty-one-year-old man wants with a seventeen-year-old girl? Wait, does he even know how old you really are?”

  The way she stressed the word girl like I was a stupid kid, mixed with her insinuation that he had some ulterior motive for talking to me, and that I lied to him, completely rubbed me the wrong way. “What the hell is wrong with you, Brynn? Of course he knows, and I’ll be eighteen in two months. Why aren’t you happy for me? It’s not like he’s an old man. Mom and Dad were five years apart, and they were in love!”

  “Ugh, just go to bed, Chloe. I’m so not in the mood for this right now.”

  “Fine!” I stormed out.

  Everything changed after that.

  Brynn became more and more distant after that night. I’d often catch her staring at nothing at all with a melancholy look in her eyes. When I’d ask her what was wrong, she’d tell me, “Nothing. I’m fine,” and continue whatever task from which she had momentarily lost concentration.

  As the weeks passed, Ryan and I continued to see each other, but after a few times of trying to talk about him with Brynn—and having her jump down my throat each time—I came to a point where it was better to remain silent. I never again talked about him with her. I never again woke her up to tell her about it upon returning home, no matter how thrilling my time with Ryan had been. I didn’t tell her about our first kiss. Didn’t tell her when we fell asleep together under the stars. Didn’t tell her when we privately revealed in the backseat of his car that we were falling for each other.

  She knew I was spending time with him but kept her opinion about it quiet. Then, one morning while I ate my cereal at the kitchen breakfast bar, she brought him up.

  Sitting in the stool next to me, she let out a sigh, “Chloe, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I said with a full mouth. I knew she must’ve been sorry for her strange withdrawn behavior lately. I just hoped she’d finally tell me why she’d been acting so weird. And I hoped this meant she’d go back to normal.

  “I know I haven’t been myself lately, and I’ve been thinking a lot about it. And about why it bothers me so much that you’re dating someone older. I think I’m just having a bizarre reaction to the fact that you’re almost an adult, and you’re not going to need me much longer. But I want to make it up to you.”

  “Aww, Brynn, I’m always going to need you!” I leaned in and gave her a tight bear hug.

  “Okay! Jeez, I can’t breathe!”

  “Seriously, without you, I would’ve been so screwed. You know I appreciate you. You know that, right?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. Of course I do. So I was thinking for your birthday, why not have Ryan join us for your special dinner.”

  “You know how much I hate you calling it that. Special dinner? I’m not an invalid, Brynn. How about we just call it a dinner.”

  Every year since our parents died, she made my favorite homemade dish from scratch for my birthday. It was a dish my mother used to make almost every week and was a far cry from the pizzas and packaged foods I had grown accustomed to eating. I thought the recipe had died with her. When Brynn surprised me with it on my 13th birthday, emotion overtook me and by the time I calmed down enough to eat it, it was already cold and had to be reheated. I later found out that she stumbled upon the recipe while cleaning out our mother’s cookbook shelf.

  “Fine, let’s invite him to your dinner.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ~Matt~

  Present Day

  "You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here."

  The familiar words resonated throughout the club’s speaker system. Last call was fifteen minutes ago, and the lights in the club had just been turned on bright, while the music had stopped completely. Dalton had left the club shortly after his midnight announcement, and Marc stuck around until last call. When Marc finally left, he took half the room of people with him, including Chloe’s friends. Apparently, the party would be continuing in his hotel suite.

  Chloe stayed behind, like she said she would, waiting for me and my crew to finish escorting everyone out of the club. I had seen multiple men approach her throughout the rest of the night, each time getting turned down. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thrilled as hell that she wanted me and that she was choosing me over them, but I couldn’t deny the feeling of dread that came over me either. Dread that whatever may happen between us later would put an end to the friendship we had started—or even worse, that I’d never see her again after tonight.

  But none of that mattered because I’d had enough of my dainty pining over this girl. It was making me weak. Confused. And I’m not a man who’s ever been indecisive over anything.

  I needed to get her out of my mind and out of my system, and the only way to accomplish that would be to ignore my reluctance and just indulge in her once and for all. The bottom line was that our shit needed to move forward regardless of the ramifications, and tonight would be the perfect opportunity to make that happen.

  I couldn’t fucking wait.

  In fact, I was done waiting. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look in her eyes and the way her lips parted when she thought I was going to kiss her last week. The way the hot pink lace of her bra peeked from her shirt. God, she was sexy. This had to happen. Hell, it had to happen now.

  “Hey, man,” I said to Shaun, the best guy on my security team. I nodded toward Chloe, “I got shit to do. You mind closing up?”

  He knowingly grinned, “Yeah, man, I got this. Have fun.”

  She saw me coming. The bored look on her face changed to a mixture of nervousness and delight as I walked toward her to the bar. Her posture straightened, and she pressed her lips together, trying to hold back her smile.

  When I reached her, I did what I should’ve done a long damn time ago. With one hand on the back of her neck and the other on the small of her back, I pulled her body to mine and kissed her the way she deserved to be kissed. Deeply. Tenderly. Passionately.

  She was breathless, cheeks flushed and eyes dilated, when I broke our connection. The sight of her in that state made it damn hard to keep my cool. But we couldn't do this here. We needed to continue this elsewhere.

  Fucking logistics.

  Determined to finish what we started, I resolutely challenged, “Your place? Or mine.”

  She lit up in anticipation, “Mine.”

  Good, she wanted this to happen too.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ~Chloe~

  Present Day

  It dawned on me that I had never brought a man back to my apartment before. What the hell was I thinking telling Matt to come to my place? Sure, he had already been here but not for…this.

  We decided it best if we took separate cars, an
d I had been second-guessing myself about this entire situation ever since leaving the club. Was I about to muck everything up with him? With this guy who had made me feel like someone who deserved compassion at a time that merited hostility?

  I had gotten home only minutes before he arrived, just enough time to pick up the place a bit, and thankfully not enough time to put myself into too much of a frenzy over my doubts. When I opened my apartment door and saw him standing there, jaw clenched and eyes of passion, nothing else mattered anymore because my body reacted to him so strongly that all my apprehension washed away.

  I found myself wanting to know what he looked like—what he felt like—under that t-shirt. Wanting to trace my fingers along every last tattoo on his body. I wanted to make him sweat. Wanted to hear the sounds he would make when he came.

  “If you keep looking at me like that, Pink, we’re gonna be doing this right here in the hallway, right now. Are you gonna let me in,” he looked down the hall then back at me, “or are we gonna to make this interesting?”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Not a challenge,” he smirked. “Just a choice. I’ll roll with whatever you decide.”

  “Honestly, Matt?” I fisted the front of his t-shirt and walked backward, pulling him along with me. Once in, he gently kicked the door shut, and I whispered in his ear, my cheek brushing against the stubble along his jaw, and my hands finding their way under his shirt to the concrete muscles of his abdomen. “I just want your hands on me. All. Night. Long. Will you roll with that?”

  His face became serious, all jokes were gone. My words affected him exactly the way I wanted them to.

  He took a step forward, leaning into me.

  I took a step back, just before his lips reached mine and gave him a playful smile.

  I don’t know why I felt the need to do that. I wanted this. Wanted him badly. But still, I hesitated. Maybe it was because until this point, our friendship had been fun, almost carefree in a way, and I didn’t want to lose that part of it.

  He slowly shook his head at me. When he spoke, his eyes smiled but his voice had become much raspier, “I dare you to try that again, Pink.”

  My grin widened. He liked it. I didn’t know if I could resist him much longer. The room had heated up the second he walked into it. My heart raced, and I couldn’t stop my chest rising up and down with each heavy breath I took. My lips still tingled from his kiss at the club, and they desperately longed to be reunited with his.

  I didn’t wait for him to try to kiss me again. I knew I wouldn’t be strong enough to tease him anymore. Instead, I slipped off my shoes and slowly walked backward, unbuttoning my shirt with each step, until the wall at the end of my hallway stopped me.

  He didn’t take his eyes off me for a second. Not when I unbuttoned the last button. Not when I slid the cotton material down my arms and let it fall to the floor. Not when I unfastened my pants, pushed them down my legs, or slipped my ankles through them, taking them off.

  I stood there at the end of the hall with my arms by my sides, thankful that I had worn a matching pair of bra and panties, while he appraised me in them.

  “Are you going to say anything?” I asked.

  He shook his head no. God, I loved the way he was looking at me.

  “Are you going to do anything?” I invited.

  He nodded yes, one corner of his mouth lifting up.

  “What are you going to do?” I whispered in anticipation.

  He stepped toward me, taking his shirt off, discarding it on the floor along the way, and before I knew what was happening, he had my back against the wall with his hands on my cheeks, his solid chest pressed against mine as my lips finally tasted their sweet reunion with his. His warmth alone melted every part of me, and the sudden sensation of it all had me weak in the knees. He must’ve noticed my reaction because while his cool, minty tongue glided across my bottom lip, his thigh found its way between my legs, keeping me sturdy and intensifying the electric currents that shot through me.

  I don’t know what possessed my mind to do it to me at a time like this, but as he took my wrists and locked them above my head with one hand, his other hand on the small of my back, pulling me against him as he placed a wet trail of kisses down my neck, I thought of every moment we had spent together up until this point.

  I thought of the look of concern on his face as he stood in front of my car with his hands on the hood, trying to stop me from making a stupid mistake.

  The adorable way he moaned at the first taste of Ricci’s bread, and how he made me laugh that night when all I wanted to do was cry.

  In the parking lot at Logan’s, when he offered me his warm truck to change clothes in before trying to give me his stupid greasy hat.

  His thoughtful message on my bathroom mirror, once again turning a desperate moment into something hopeful.

  The sincerity in his voice when he told me to do what’s right, without a single doubt in his mind that I’d be able to.

  Do what’s right. He trusted me to do the right thing. He actually had faith in me.

  A voice inside shouted not him. I couldn’t do this with him. To him. I couldn’t use him this way.

  I ripped my wrists from his grip, broke our connection, and pushed him off me. “Stop. I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This. Us like this. We have to stop.”

  He cocked his head, half in confusion and half in amusement, “And why is that?”

  “Because you shouldn’t want me!” I said, frustrated that he wasn’t taking my statement more seriously. Shit! How could he take me seriously when I’ve just completely thrown myself at him? “Because you’re a good guy and an even better friend. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had one of those? A friend? I’m not gonna lie, I want this to happen so badly that it’s taking all the strength I have to stop. God knows my body wants this. But I get the feeling you’re not a one-night, no-strings kind of guy. That’s what I need right now, and I respect you too much to hurt you. And I will hurt you, Matt. I won’t mean to, but I will. Besides, you know my reputation. I like guys.” I knew I was rambling, but I needed to make sure he understood exactly what mess he would’ve gotten himself into with me. “Lots of guys. Do you get that? Someone like you deserves someone better than me. You should have someone—more—pure.”

  With brooding brows, he absorbed it all for a few moments before responding, “So it’s all true, huh? Your reputation, I mean.”

  “Yeah,” my shoulders slumped and my head dropped down. Admitting to my notoriety out loud hurt more than I expected it to. I had never really been ashamed. I had always owned-up to my promiscuity. But his asking me about it meant it bothered him. Knowing that the truth affected his opinion of me in such a negative way absolutely killed me. I had to do what’s right. I had to be honest, especially with him. And after what happened with Logan, I was done playing games for good. “It is. It’s all true, Matt.”

  “And you think that makes you damaged goods.” It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. And he had just hit the nail right on the head.

  “Yeah,” I shrugged, feigning apathy while my insides wrenched apart. “That’s exactly what it makes me.”

  He hesitated, eyes squinted, studying me. Then he said something completely unexpected. He shook his head in refusal, “Fuck that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Who the hell cares who you’ve been with before now? I can tell you with absolute certainty that at the moment, I don’t give a shit about your rep. Hell, I’m no fucking saint either. Stop playing the martyr, Chloe, and understand this—“

  God, I love it when he says my name.

  He took my chin with the V between his fingers and thumb, squeezed my jaw and brought my face to his face, pressed his lips to my lips, tongue to my tongue, the sweet connection scrambling all remaining sense I had left in me and turning it all to mush.

  The
n he wickedly stopped—unlocking our mouths—and stared intently into my soul, warm hands slowly brushing up and down my arms. “—I am not your responsibility. If your body is telling you something,” he placed his forehead on mine and sucked in a breath through his teeth, making that glorious hissing sound, “fucking listen to it. It’s just you and me right now, no one else.

  Let go of what’s in here,” his fingers weaved up the base of my skull, through my hair, and gripped a handful of it. “And focus,” his other hand trailed down my neck and continued to my breast.

  “On,” he said, biting my earlobe while his thumb circled the lacy fabric against my nipple for just a moment before his fingers made their way down my bare stomach, every nerve ending in my body reacting along the way. “This,” he firmly took hold of the most private part of me, sending intoxicating currents throughout my body.

  “I’m not gonna worry about what will happen tomorrow, and neither should you.” He slowly moved his fingers back and forth against my panties, applying just the right amount of pressure, the combination of his compassionate words and seductive-as-fuck actions causing an unexpected whimper to sound from my throat, “Follow my lead, Chloe.” A realization hit him, and he chuckled the sexiest damn chuckle I’d ever heard, “FML, remember? Follow your instincts, and my lead.”

  I sighed, releasing some of my anxiety, “I just don’t want you to hate me.”

  “Never. Trust me. That will never happen.”

  Trust. A dangerous concept. An unattainable luxury. A special treat that I would never again indulge in. A vulnerability that I dared not experiment with.

  No, I wouldn’t be dispensing any trust tonight. I would, however, accept the fact that at the moment, we both fiercely craved the same thing…each other. And who was I to deny us that right?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ~Matt~