by S. L. Scott
There’s no fucking way I’m letting this opportunity pass me by. Looking out of the corners of my eyes, I know exactly what I have to do. “Three bottles of Dos Equis and three shots of Jack Daniels.”
She reaches into the cooler and sets the bottles in front of me, then slides a bottle opener to me. While I pop the tops, she pours the three shots. “On me, good lookin’.”
She’s cute, but she’s no Stella. Reaching into my wallet, I pull out a fifty and hand it to her. “Thanks.”
Impressed, she says, “Thank you.”
I nudge Ridge. “A beer and shot for you.” Grabbing the two shots and bottles from in front of me, I turn to duck out. “Be right back.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
I shrug. “I don’t have a choice.” There’s no way I can’t talk to her one last time.
Walking toward the door, I veer when the bar ends and make my way through a few groups packed in for the show. I stop and stand near but will have to push through some guys to get closer. Watching her and Meadow, she leans in to talk, her hair falling to the side, blocking the side of her face from me. It hits halfway down her back, and the soft wave is enticing to hold like I used to when we would venture to wilder times in bed.
I don’t know why I’m still here when I could be there, and why is my heart beating against my rib cage? I know the answer—this is it. My last shot. She already ended us, so what’s the worst that can happen?
When I step up to stand next them, Meadow casually looks back and then up at me before gasping. “Rivers!”
Stella’s head whips to the side, and her mouth falls open before she catches herself, and asks, “What are you doing here?”
Her defenses are up. I get it. My walls feel high as the night sky right now, but I push past them. “Hi.”
She stands as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her fingers fidget with her jeans, and then she runs her hands along her backside. Maybe she’s nervous too.
Not able to stop myself, I admire how good those jeans look on her. Her eyebrow rises as she shifts under my gaze. She says, “I thought . . . we weren’t supposed to see each . . .” I’m not sure if I like how flustered she appears to be. This could go south fast.
I stand my own ground, though, and hold up the peace offering. “I saw you and Meadow sitting here and thought you might like some drinks.”
Meadow takes a shot glass and a bottle. “Thank you,” she says with a smile that puts me at ease.
“You weren’t even old enough to drink when we last had a drink together.”
She laughs. “Neither were you.”
“This is true.”
Okay, this is good. Meadow’s good with me being here. Then I look at Stella whose shoulders are practically at her ears. She crosses her arms over his chest. “I don’t need you buying us drinks, Rivers. We can afford them.”
“Um,” I start, not sure why she’s so offended. “I didn’t buy them because I thought you couldn’t. I bought them . . .” Shit. Why did I buy them? To get into her good graces or to give me a reason to talk to her? Either way doesn’t change the fact that she told me to stay away from her.
I’m just about to rethink this really terrible plan until I come up with a better one when she takes the shot glass and downs the whiskey. After scrunching her nose, she takes the beer and chases the hard liquor down.
Unexpectedly, she pokes me in the chest and looks up at me. God, I miss her looking at me like I hung the stars. That’s not the look I get this time, but it makes me want to try my damnedest to put those stars back in her eyes. “Thank you for the drinks, but you, sir, are not welcome to stay here staring down at me like that.”
“Like what?”
There was a slight smile before, but it fades and her eyes dip to the floor between us. “Like you care about me.”
“I do care about you.”
“Don’t throw bullshit lines at me. You don’t know me anymore. You can’t possibly care about me when I’m basically a stranger.”
“Stella, come on. I’m just—”
“Leaving. Please, Rivers . . . I can’t do this.” Moving around me, she works her way through the crowd toward the restrooms.
I’m not sure if I should—Meadow pushes my arm, stopping me from second-guessing myself, and says, “Don’t just stand there. Go after her, silly.”
I don’t have to be told twice.
7
Rivers
Cutting through the crowd, I see her get in line up ahead, but by the time I make my way over, she slips inside the bathroom.
Side-eyed by the other girls waiting in line, one snaps her fingers and points at me. “Hey, you’re Rivers Crow.”
The small hall is full of chatter until that moment. Another girl gasps and her eyes go wide. “Oh. My. God.”
Phones are pulled from purses, and I’m touched on my arm, my ass, my back, everywhere all at once. Shit. This is a really bad idea. The bathroom door swings open and my star, my beauty, grabs my wrist. “Hands off, ladies.” Then I’m pulled toward her, loving every second of her touching me again. “Come on, Riv.”
One long stride and I’m in the women’s restroom. Alone with her. A smirk pops out without my permission. The door is closed and locked to the sounds of squeals and my name on the other side. “What are you doing?”
“Saving your ass.” The right side of her delectable mouth rides up. “Thanks would be nice.”
“Thanks, but quick question. Now that you have me in here, what do you plan to do with me?”
Her body is relaxed, her shoulders not stiff and at her ears like they were earlier. She taps her fingers on her hip that’s kicked out and accentuates the curve of her waist. I receive an epic eye-roll before she turns and says, “Window.”
Looking over her, because I can, I see the window cracked open above the sink. “You want me to climb out?”
Jiggling the doorknob, she shrugs. “I can feed you to the groupies out there instead if you prefer.”
And right there, right now, I see the girl I used to love so much when I was younger. She was lighthearted and quick-witted, and this girl in front of me is my Stella. I can’t ignore the light in her eyes, the sense of adventure she sees this situation to be. She’s laughing at me, and I fucking love it.
Right now, though, I need out of here. Even though I know what I should do, I drag it out as if I’m actually debating. I like sharing this private space with her . . . even if it is a bathroom.
Someone banging on the other side of the door startles her, and the magic is lost. “You should go.” Moving around me, she cranks the old window open all the way.
“Only if you’re coming with me.”
“And leave Meadow?”
“Text her when we’re outside. I’ll text Ridge.”
“Who’s Ridge? A long-lost Crow brother?” She snorts with laughter, covering her nose with her hand. “Ridge. Rivers. Jet. Tulsa. Get it?”
“I get it.” I just don’t laugh at the joke, but she still has me grinning. Looking at her more closely, I ask, “Are you drunk?”
“Nope,” she replies, emphasizing the p and shaking her head. She runs her hand over my chest and up. “I might be tipsy, though.”
If memory serves me, and it does on a regular basis when I’m in the shower thinking about her, she gets so turned on when she’s been drinking. I take hold of her hand because her touch feels so good. The knocking gets more insistent, and the sound of my name being called from the hall seems to bring her back to the sadder version of our reality, the reality where she’s not mine. She backs away, so I ask, “Are you coming, or are we staying?”
Stella Lilith used to have an adventurous side, but I think it’s been a while since she broke a few rules. “Will you climb out first?”
There’s my girl. “Yep.” I press down on the sink, hoping it doesn’t fall off the wall. It looks old, so I’m not sure it can hold my weight. But it’s getting louder in the hall, so I climb
up, grabbing an exposed pipe above the window, and maneuver my legs through the opening. Good thing we’re on the ground level. Pushing off, I land on my feet in the alley and turn around. “Stella?”
She peeks out and by the way her lips are twisted and her eyes are looking at the cement, she’s nervous. “I don’t want to fall.”
“I’d never let you. Not to the ground anyhow.”
For a second, she looks confused, but her brow relaxes and a small smile appears. “You’ll catch me?”
“Every time.”
She disappears, and I can hear her climbing onto the sink. Her legs slide out the window until her ass rests on the metal sill. “Ready for me, Rivers?”
“All my life.”
“For real,” she says, her nerves causing a slight shake to her tone. “You’re going to catch me, right?”
“Always.” I take her by the ass, and say, “Put your legs over my shoulders.”
“What? No.”
“Yes. I’ve got you. Then all I have to do is back up as you slip out.”
“I’m not as light as I used to be. Are you sure you can handle me?”
I work my way under her so her legs are over my shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, baby. I can handle you all right.”
Her thighs squeeze my neck. I like to think it was the name I slipped in there, but it’s probably because she’s anxious to do this. She slips out a little more, and our eyes meet. “You’re sure you’re ready?”
“All you have to do is let go. I have you.”
Releasing the pipe, she ducks her head to the side while I support her back with my hands, holding her until she clears the glass. Helping her upright, my face is against the jeans that cover her vagina and she’s squeezing my head with her legs so tight I don’t know if I’m going to live. What a sweet fucking way to die.
I back away from the window, and her legs loosen just enough from me to get a breath. I ask, “You okay up there?”
She’s holding my head. “Don’t drop me.”
“Never.” I start laughing, but she wobbles and leans forward. “I can’t see. Loosen your grip. I’ve got you.”
“Put me down.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“Now!”
“Tell me you’re more fun than this these days.”
“I’m not. I lead an incredibly boring life. That should send you running.”
I lean back and am met with those green eyes I’ve dreamed about for years. “Nothing could send me running anymore.”
Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she cocks an eyebrow. The smile on her face reaches her eyes where I see a flicker of the stars I adore inside. “Are you going to put me down?”
“Do I have a choice?”
That elicits the sweetest of laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I?” I lift her so she can move her legs beneath her. She holds me as she begins to slide down the front of my body, but as soon as she’s eye level, I tighten my arms around her again. “How taken are you?”
The light reflecting in her eyes dims, and she presses her palms against me. I set her down on her feet and start a silent prayer that she won’t walk away.
Stumbling, she looks up when I catch hold of her waist, and says, “I can’t forget what happened. I’ve tried, and I couldn’t then and that wasn’t even with you standing in front of me.”
“I get it. But, Stella, it wasn’t what you thought it was.”
“How do I know what anything was?” She looks at me with narrowed eyes. “I wasn’t even worth telling.”
“That’s not true.”
“No, that is true.” She gulps in a breath. “You put another woman before me—
“I gave her my word.”
“You gave me a lot more than your word, and you chose her over me. I’ll let you decide how bad that might hurt. Spoiler alert,” she says abruptly. “It didn’t just break my heart. It crushed my soul.”
Crushed. Broken. I did this by not fighting through my own hurt feelings. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t matter that I say it, and it fixes nothing, but I am sorry.”
“You’re right. It fixes nothing.” She looks down at her shoes and sighs in disappointment. “I’ve spent years trying to figure out why I wasn’t enough for you to choose me that night.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Christ, I feel like we’re talking in riddles. But outside a bar isn’t the place to talk. Not now. I need time with her. I need to go back to that night and explain it from the top. Not just a quick-fix apology that says little.
“Then what was it like? Or can you not tell me that either?” She laughs humorlessly. She starts to walk away.
“Stella, I didn’t cheat on you, but I understand why you think I did. We need to be somewhere quiet—”
She stops as if I have the answers to the universe. “A part of me thinks it’s dumb I still care about that night, but you broke more than my heart. You broke us.” Dropping my chin, I dare to look up at her just as she huffs. “But to answer your question as to us—I’m taken, Rivers. Very taken.”
8
Rivers
Standing at the entrance of the alley, she texts Meadow, and I text Ridge. I want to keep talking to her, to get this anger out until we don’t have anything but our hearts bare before each other. But when I look at her, she refuses to make eye contact with me.
Meadow’s the first one to see us, and she rushes to her sister. “Where did you guys go?”
Relief washes over her face, and Stella releases a long breath. Grabbing her sister’s arm, she pulls her a few feet away just out of earshot . . . or so she thinks, and eyes me suspiciously. “Out the window,” Stella replies like it’s perfectly normal to climb out a window when you want to leave a bar.
Meadow scrunches her nose. “What? Why?”
“Groupies, but that doesn’t matter.” Stella and Meadow glance back at me, but I turn toward the opening of the alley and watch the partiers walking by. I hear her whisper, “I need your help.”
“What’s going on?” Meadow whispers back.
“I’ve been drinking—”
“I know. I’ve been drinking with you.”
Stella waves her arms in annoyance and rolls her eyes. Sooo Stella. She turns her back to me when she catches me watching her and lowers her voice, but an alley carries sound. “Have you seen him?”
Meadow glances my way and smiles at me, then waves. “Yup. He’s right there.”
I chuckle and pretend to not listen because this game is too fun not to play. While they whisper, I check my phone and then text Ridge again: Where the fuck are you?
My ears perk up when I hear Stella say, “I told him I was taken.”
“Taken? Like dating someone? Why would you do that?”
I hear a tiny whimper, and even though I can’t see her, I feel the weight of the pause. I take a step toward her, wanting to dry her eyes but am given a death glare. She tugs Meadow around and leans toward her ear. “I’m taken with him again. And I can’t be. This is terrible, Mead. Help me.”
“Aww, sis. Come here.” I glance back and catch Meadow’s eyes on me while she hugs Stella. “That’s not terrible.”
Ridge finally shows the fuck up with his arms out, getting all the attention. “I’m here. What’s up?”
Stella pops straight up, swiping under one of her eyes. When we look at her, she says, “Nothing to see here, people.”
I’m about to finally go to her, tempted to bring her in for a good hug—for her and me—but Ridge spies the ladies, smiles, and asks, “Why are we in an alley?”
Pointing my finger at him, I say, “Good point. How about we get out of here?”
Is he fucking strutting? His swagger needs work. Making a beeline to Meadow, he sidles right up to her. “I’m Ridge. What’s your name?”
“Meadow,” she replies leaning a little closer to him.
Stella snaps her fingers between them. “Hey.”
Ridge turns to her. �
��You must be—”
Meadow says, “This is my sister, Stella.”
“Ah,” he says as if a light bulb went off. I don’t say her name much, but in a drunken moment in Dallas, I did, and then I couldn’t stop as if I had to get it out of my system. I blamed being back in Texas, so close in proximity but still a world away from her. He glances between Stella and me, and then to Meadow. “Are we hanging out in an alley for a reason, or should we go somewhere to get more drinks?”
She raises her hand. “I vote more drinks.”
I watch Stella carefully. She said she was tipsy, but I still don’t think she wants to spend time with me. Meadow asks, “What do you think, Stel?”
I don’t speak sister-to-sisterese, but I think Meadow might be on my side. Clueless, I let them figure out what they want to do and hope their decision swings in my favor.
Stella looks at me and then at her sister. “I’m out for the first time in forever, and I’m kind of having fun.” I note the “kind of” part of that sentence. She asks, “How do we avoid what happened back there because that was not fun?”
“You didn’t like having your legs wrapped around my neck again?”
She blushes as her lips part, then she laughs and backhands my chest. “I meant the groupies.”
“How about Ego’s?” Ridge offers, a smirk settling across his face as he eyes Meadow. “Dim lighting. Private . . . mostly.”
“Can’t get much darker than Ego’s,” Meadow adds. “Love it.” She heads down the alley. “Come on, kids.”
Stella glances to me, standing in place. I can feel her hesitation from here, but then she follows her sister, and I follow her.
Stella stands on that stage, captivating every member of the audience. The spotlight shines on her, and I’ve never seen her so much herself, singing Lana Del Ray’s “White Mustang” as if it’s just the two of us. If her eyes aren’t on me, they’re closed. The way she holds the microphone to her mouth makes me envious of the proximity of those full lips I remember leaving kisses on my body, the heat of her breath against my skin reminding me how cold my life has been without her.