by Gemma Weir
“Scouts honor,” Griff says from beneath me.
“You were never in the scouts,” I say with a laugh, rolling my eyes. I know I should probably still be mad at them, but they’re my best friends, my family, and as much as I might try, I can never stay angry with them for long. “Karaoke sounds like fun,” I concede.
“Karaoke!” Zeke sings out loudly, jumping up from where he was sitting.
Shaking my head resigned, I can’t help but laugh, and shove at Zeke’s arm, as he breaks into a booty wiggling dance in front of me, then bursts into a very loud and very off-key rendition of ‘Oops!...I Did It Again’.
Nova and Valentine are both back by the time the food is ready, and we all sit and eat together as one big dysfunctional family. I’m reminded once again why I don’t want to pull too far from them, because as loud and obnoxious and insular as we can be, we’re still family and I love them all.
When we get to the bar, I flash my fake ID at the huge stern looking bouncer, then let Griffin take my hand and pull me along behind him as he makes his way into the busy bar. Zeke spots an empty booth, so we all rush toward it and I slide into one side as Valentine steers Nova into the other side, nodding pointedly at Zeke before he leaves to go get drinks from the bar.
“Is Kent coming?” Nova shouts over the noise of a very bad rendition of a Bon Jovi song.
I nod. “He’s at work until eight, but he said he’d come after he’d got changed.”
“What does he do?” She asks.
“He works at the bookstore on campus.”
“That’s cool,” Nova replies.
I nod, shuffling along to the edge of the booth so Griffin can slide in next to me. Valentine appears a moment later carrying a pitcher of beer and a smaller pitcher of something pink which he places down in front of me and Nova. “What’s this?” I ask him.
“It’s called Bubblegum Dream. The guy behind the bar says it tastes like candy,” Valentine says with a shrug, disappearing again and returning a moment later with five glasses.
Nova looks at me, then to the pink drink. She shrugs, then pours us a glass each, sliding mine toward me and lifting hers into the air to make a toast. “To the Scions,” she says.
I lift my glass up and the guys follow suit. “The Scions,” we all say, clinking our glasses against each other. Until Valentine came into our lives, I’d never heard the nickname the kids at our high school had given our group, but somehow we’ve adopted it and we celebrate it, because whether we like it or not, we are the Sinners Scions.
Bringing the glass to my lips, I take a tentative sip, then moan in happiness when the sweet, candy flavored drink fills my mouth and coats my tongue. “Oh my god, that is so good,” I cry.
Nova eagerly nods, taking a longer sip, then handing her glass to Valentine so he can try. His face is hilarious as he pinches his lips together and screws his nose up in obvious disgust.
“That’s revolting; it’s like drinking pure sugar,” he spits out, taking a long pull of his beer.
“It’s delicious,” I argue, taking another drink. Nova and I finish the jug quickly, laughing as we peruse the songbook to decide what Karaoke song we want to perform. I wobble a little as she drags me onto the stage and as the first notes of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ start to play, we receive raucous applaud from the crowds filling the bar. Tipping my head back, I sing loudly along with the music, dancing around with Nova until the song ends and sweat coats my skin.
Laughter falls from my lips as Nova holds my hand, skipping as she pulls me back to our seats. “Kent,” I cry, spotting him sat uncomfortably next to Griffin in the booth. He looks tiny, his shoulders slim and narrow compared to Griffin’s wide, muscular, athletic frame.
Kent slides off the seat and steps toward me, leaning in to press a kiss against my cheek. “Hi,” he says, his sweet smile eliciting an equally sweet smile to spread across my own lips.
“Hi,” I say back, suddenly feeling a little shy. Glancing over to my friends, I watch as Nova climbs onto Valentine’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear. I have no idea what Kent would do if I tried to sit on his lap. He’d probably run away from me. Unsure how to behave around him, I stand awkwardly for a moment then say. “Err, we need more pink drinks, or maybe purple drinks because I saw someone with a jug of something purple. I’m going to go see what they have at the bar,” I announce. “Do you want a drink?” I ask Kent.
“No, I just got a beer, thanks.” Kent says, lifting the glass bottle in his hand to show me.
“Stay here, I’ll go to the bar,” Griffin says, sliding out of the booth toward me, amusement lacing his tone.
“No.” I cry. “I can go to the bar. I’m a Scion for fuck’s sake.”
“The Scions,” Nova cheers, reaching for her glass to toast and finding it empty.
“What are the scions?” Kent asks.
I freeze, unsure what to say or even if I should say anything at all. I mean the truth is a slippery slope, admitting one thing could lead to him knowing everything and I’m not ready for my two worlds to implode.
“Just an in-joke, don’t worry about it,” Griff says, slapping Kent on the shoulder playfully.
It feels like my entire body sags with relief, but I do my best to cover it. “Do we need more beer, or just pastel colored drinks?” I ask.
“We’re good for beer,” Valentine says, laughing.
“I’ll go with her,” Griff says, but I’m already moving away from the table and making my way to the bar.
“What can I get you?” The girl behind the bar asks me, when I step up to the sticky wooden platform.
“What’s the purple drink in the pitchers called?” I shout.
The girl eyes me, her head tilting to the side as she assesses me. “I’m gonna need to see some ID.”
I hand over my fake ID, feeling Griffin’s presence behind me as his arm snakes around my side and lands on the wooden surface next to where my own hand is resting.
The bartender nods at me and hands back my ID. “It’s called Purple Haze. It’s vodka, grape soda, peach schnapps, and lemonade. Tastes like a grape popsicle.”
“Perfect,” I shout over the loud wails of someone attempting to sing a Katy Perry song. She nods, then turns away, grabbing bottles and mixing liquids together. “I’m more than capable of getting drinks on my own,” I say loudly, addressing Griffin without turning around to look at him.
The hand he had rested on the bar winds around my waist and he pulls me back into his chest, his fingers spreading across my stomach. The heat of his body presses into my back and I feel his breath against my ear a moment before he speaks. “You’re drunk, in a busy bar, and that pussy you’re dating wasn’t putting his hand up to come keep an eye on you, so I’m making sure no one hassles you.”
His words are harsh, but the tone of his voice is soft, almost cajoling. A flashback of the way he kissed me last night jumps into my head. I’m still expecting him to mention it, but he hasn’t, and I don’t know what that means.
“Kent isn’t a pussy. He just gets that I’m an adult and don’t need to be babysat,” I hiss.
“Taking care of you, isn’t babysitting you, Em. Wanting you to be safe isn’t suffocating you. But that’s the bit that you don’t get, that you don’t ever seem to have got,” Griff says, his hot breath warming the side of my neck.
“But I’m not yours?” Even though I intended on making a statement, it comes out like a question, my voice raspy.
“Aren’t you?” he says, his lips pressing a kiss against the pulse point in my neck.
Something sparks to life inside of me and I feel my skin heat beneath where his lips are touching me. Suddenly everything else becomes obsolete and all I can feel is his hard body pressed against me. I take in the strength of his huge arm wrapped around my waist; the way he’s curved around me; how his body is towering over me, huge, strong and powerful. My breath catches in my lungs and I’m not sure if I want to run from this or push my ass back agains
t him just to see what he’d do.
“Little Red, fancy seeing you in here.”
The new, yet familiar voice startles me, pulling me from my Griffin induced haze and I look around to find Van leaning against the bar a few feet from us. His eyes take me in, running up and down my body, lingering on where Griff’s hand is spread across my belly still touching me.
“Van,” I say, my voice sounding husky and a little breathless. I refuse to think about if it’s his sudden appearance, anticipation of spending time with Kent, or the way Griff’s touching me and the memory of our kiss that’s affecting me.
“Van?” Griff growls.
“Am I just in time to rescue you again, little one?” Van asks, amusement flashing in his eyes.
“No,” I snap out. “I don’t need to be rescued.”
Griffin’s grip on me changes and in the blink of an eye he moves me from in front to behind him, his body hiding me.
“Ahh,” Van drawls. “I thought you looked familiar. You’re one of Red’s protectors.”
Forcing my way forward, I step to Griffin’s side and glare at him. “Griffin, this is Van. Van, this is Griffin.”
“Boyfriend?” Van asks coldly.
“You’re the asshole from the frat house?” Griffin says smiling, ignoring Van’s question. He glances back to our booth for a second, before his arm snakes around my waist again and I’m pulled back against his body.
“Van Torres,” Van says, holding out his hand.
Griff’s hold on me tightens as he leans forward and takes his outstretched hand. “Griffin Bennett.”
I roll my eyes and consider reminding them that I already made introductions a few moments ago, but before I get a chance to open my mouth, Zeke ambles up to my other side smiling widely, even though I can sense the tension in him.
“What’s taking so long with the drinks?” He asks, his voice light and amused, or at least that’s how he sounds to someone who doesn’t know him as well as I do.
“Nothing, go back to the booth, the bartender is just mixing it,” I say.
“You making friends?” Zeke asks, nodding to Van. “Introduce us.”
“Oh my god,” I groan.
“We’ve already met,” Van says, glaring at Zeke.
Zeke’s laugh is low and dangerous. “So we have. Zeke Stubbs,” he offers, reaching his hand out to Van.
Van takes it, his eyes hardening as he glances between the guys before his gaze rests on me. I sigh, rolling my eyes as I try to push Griff’s arm out of the way and lean forward to hand the bartender some money when she places a jug full of purple liquid on the bar in front of us. Griff’s grip tightens on me and he holds me firmly in place, dropping a twenty onto the bar before I get a chance.
“Looks like you collect protectors. Are these two my competition?” Van asks, ignoring the guys and looking at me.
“We’re her family,” Zeke says, still smiling despite the coolness in his voice.
“There’s no competition,” Griff drawls, his palm spreading wide, his fingers disappearing beneath the bottom of my shirt.
“Is that right?” Van drawls, his eyes dropping to the possessive way Griffin is holding me.
“Oh my god!” I cry. “This is why I want to date a guy like Kent, who for your information is sitting right over there,” I say, pushing Griffin’s hand from my waist and grabbing the pitcher of purple drink as I turn on my heel and stomp back over to the booth without a backward glance at the three infuriating alpha males at the bar.
When I reach the table, I exhale a sigh of relief, placing the pitcher down. Kent is animatedly talking to Nova and I force away my frustration and smile, glad that at least one of my friends is being nice to him.
“We need glasses,” Nova says. “You sit, I’ll go grab some.”
I wave her off. “I’ll get them, I’m already up.”
Reluctantly, I head back to the bar hoping to find Van gone, but instead, he, Zeke, and Griffin are still facing off, all of them wearing matching hard looks. Determined to break up the standoff, I push between them and ask the bartender for two glasses, before I spin back to face them.
I allow my eyes to rake over the three men, all of which are giving off eerily familiar vibes. Van seems older, but still sexy and oozing confidence. Zeke is beautiful but intimidating, and Griffin is intense like the quintessential alpha male. Looking at the three of them, so different, yet so similar, I get why women throw themselves at men like them. Men who want to protect and covet their women, just like my dad does for my mom, like my uncles do for my aunties. For the first time I really do get it, and it scares the shit out of me. In this moment I understand completely why women lose their minds over possessive dominant men.
“I have no idea what the hell this is about, but it’s really not necessary,” I say. “I don’t need any of you to defend me. My daddy is the biggest badass y’all will ever meet and I have at least twenty uncles who would help him kill all of you for pissing me off and dispose of your bodies somewhere no one would ever find you. But I don’t need them either. I’m Emmy Devereaux, and I’m more than capable of looking after myself, so why don’t you all back the fuck up and go find someone else to rescue, because I have no use for any of you.”
My little rant has all three guys’ attention fixed on me. Zeke and Griffin are smiling widely, while Van looks shocked with a hint of admiration.
“Every time I think you’ve forgotten, you do something like this to remind me exactly who you are, shortcake,” Griff hoots, scooping me into the air and twirling me around, making me hold the glasses tightly to stop from dropping them.
Instead of putting me down, Griff holds me off the ground as Zeke laughs and the three of us head back to the table, leaving a bemused Van behind us. Despite the noise of the bar I swear I hear him say, “See you soon, Little Red,” as he watches us disappear into the crowd.
Griffin doesn’t lower me to the ground until we reach our booth and I slide in next to Kent, while he slides in next to me still smiling widely like the confrontation with Van never happened. Nova arches her eyebrow at me, flashing me a questioning look, but I subtly shake my head, letting her know that I don’t want to talk about it.
She takes the glasses from me and fills them with purple stuff, pushing one toward me. Lifting hers into the air, she winks at me and I laugh then tap my glass against hers, taking a healthy pull of the liquid. Swallowing, I inhale raggedly, trying to hide how shaken I am by every bizarre thing that’s happened tonight and the way Griff’s touch is affecting me.
All I wanted was to be invisible, not have the weight of my family’s legacy pressing down on my shoulders. I’ve done all the right things. I made friends, I’ve tried new things, I’ve kept my new college life separate from my best friends and everything that reminds me of home. I had a plan, this was all supposed to make me normal, just a face in a crowd, but it hasn’t worked.
What did I do wrong? Avery and Veronica are great, but I feel like I’m lying to them, because I’m so desperate to be new and different that I don’t want to be honest and let them see the person I am at my core.
I met a nice guy; Kent is someone so different to anyone I’ve ever known, and I’m lying to him too, pretending, and it’s not fair. Then there’s Van. I like him too, but because he reminds me so much of the guys I grew up around, I’m lashing out and being every bit of the Sinners Scion I’m pretending not to be.
And Griffin, the person who normally grounds me and keeps me together is kissing me and making me feel things I’m not supposed to be feeling for my best friend.
Confused, I lift the glass full of purple cocktail to my lips and down half of the contents in one long gulp. The sugar and alcohol coat my tongue and throat and I shudder as I swallow, feeling a burning warmth in my chest.
“Woo hoo,” Nova cries, throwing one hand into the air and lifting her own glass to her lips with the other. She downs her entire glass, then lifts her gaze to me, arching her eyebrows as she shakes he
r empty glass at me tauntingly.
With a laugh I drink the remaining liquid, then lift my glass into the air and toast her with it. The guys all hoot and holler, all except for Kent who just looks bemused. His arm brushes against mine and I’m dragged back to the present and the sweet and entirely different guy sitting next to me. He’s everything I thought I wanted. A smile forms on my lips and some of the tension dissolves from my shoulders. “Hey,” I say, nudging his arm with mine.
“Hey,” he replies.
“So, what’s your Karaoke song?” I ask.
He laughs. The sound is light and easy and I instantly love it.
“Maybe we should do a duet? You sounded pretty awesome up there with Nova.”
“I like this plan,” I say, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.
“Dibs on Genie In A Bottle,” Zeke announces loudly.
“Oh my god, not again. I swear that’s the only song you ever pick,” Nova bemoans.
Griff’s low chuckle beside me draws my attention and I turn to look at him. His big body is angled slightly so he can lean against the side of the booth, one arm draped along the top of the seat behind me, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the ends of my hair. All of the tension from only a couple of moments ago is gone and his expression is relaxed, his smile happy.
His gaze meets mine and he nudges my knee with his. I can’t help smiling back. Despite everything, Griff is my best friend and he always will be. I nudge him back and his smile widens. “Em and I are gonna do our usual,” he says to the group, his eyes not leaving mine.
“You guys do Karaoke a lot?” Kent asks, pulling my attention back to him.
Nova chuckles sweetly. “Emmy begged her mom and dad for a Karaoke machine one Christmas when we were like, what? Ten or eleven? So all we did for like a year after that was sing Karaoke on that thing. I swear we used to take it to the club every time there was a family day.”
“The club?” Kent questions, smiling.
Her eyes widen and she glances at me for a split second. “Just something our families are all members of back home.”
Kent nods. “Oh, like a country club. My parents are members of our local one. But I’ll be honest it was more golf tournaments and less Karaoke when I was growing up.”