She took the menu, eyeing the limited options. “Ahh … yeah … punk music was a niche I never really fell into.”
“What?” I feigned shock. Stumbled back a step as if she’d shot me. “Then, I’m afraid we can’t be seen together.”
The small pull of laughter that sang out of her woke something inside of me. “Music is everything, isn’t it?”
“The world wouldn’t be bearable without it.”
After a few thoughtful seconds, she declared, “Who am I kidding? I’ll try one of each.”
“You can’t go wrong here.”
We stopped in front of the register. I ordered two of everything along with our drinks and then managed to get my card out before her.
A girl who liked to pay. I liked.
“Here we are.” I picked out a small booth and set our number on the table. Waited for her to sit before taking the seat across from her.
“Is this how you romance women, Mr. Pierce?” she asked, leaning on her elbows. “Take them to taco joints and insist on paying?”
“Is it working?”
Her smile was playful. “I’ll keep you posted.”
A waitress came by with our drinks.
After taking a sip, I pushed mine toward her. “Try this. It’s on the secret menu.”
She glanced at the glass, eyes focused on the straw. A rosy flush pressed behind her cheeks.
I chuckled. “I don’t have cooties.”
“I know.” She pulled it toward her. A second later, she placed her lips around the straw and sucked.
I hadn’t expected to react the way I did to the shape of her lips around a straw. The subtle pink hue that screamed sex, a jarring contradiction against her doe-shaped eyes and milky-white skin. I pictured her on her knees, looking up at me, sending me over the edge.
“Oh my God. This is amazing!”
I pried my eyes from her mouth, tongue twisted and dry. “Right?”
She pushed the drink she’d chosen toward me. A cinnamon concoction I’d had before. “Here, try this.”
Now, I was the one getting the sweats over putting my lips where hers had been. “Pretty good.” It was a lie. Cinnamon was one of my least favorite flavors.
“Yeah, but yours is so much better than mine.”
Her eyes lit, pure and clear, bearing every emotion in the brightest hue. I knew right then that I was wrapped around her finger.
And I didn’t mind it one damn bit.
Whatever she wanted, I’d do my best to get it for her. To keep her happy.
“Do you want to switch?” I pushed mine toward her. I didn’t want that look on her face to disappear.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
She pulled the straw from the drink and licked the end.
Jesus, her tongue was sexy. Is she aware of what she does to me? How bad I want her?
“When I was growing up, I wasn’t allowed to have things like this.” She pulled the straw into her mouth, lips poised in a tight O.
Oh fuck.
“Really?” I coughed to hide the crack in my voice. Placed my gaze on the menu. Anywhere but on her lips that fucking drove me crazy.
“Yeah. My mom and dad are health nuts. Sugar was only consumed on special occasions.”
“That explains the gummy bears.”
She grinned and put the straw back in the glass.
Thank God.
“I’d say that I’ve always been a rebel, and I used to sneak candy into the house, but really, I was a wimp. Too afraid of getting in trouble to try anything.”
I chuckled.
“How about you? Any rebel stories from your youth that the tabloids didn’t steal?”
My laughter turned sideways, the shadows within me shifting. “Would you believe me if I said no? My dad, he … well, let’s just say, we have something in common when it comes to fearing being in trouble with the old ’rents.”
She studied me for a moment. I felt her gaze to my core, burning through the shadows, dying to bring light to them.
“Here we go,” a waiter said as he approached the table, setting a large platter in front of us. He read off what we’d ordered and then left when we said we were good.
It took Prim all of a millisecond to dive in. She commented on each meat, each flavor, with such joy; it was a wonder she hadn’t gotten into culinary school. She knew every flavor, down to the origin. Gave a backstory to how it had come to be.
“With the way you speak about food, I’m almost certain you trained with chefs.”
“Nah. I just watch a lot of Food Network.”
When we were finished, we sat back, bellies full and smiles floating between us.
“This was so much better than pizza would have been,” she admitted. “I’m glad I bumped into you.”
There was that tone again. Dismissive but not in the sense she didn’t want to be around me. More like … she was giving me the out. The chance to agree and part ways without any awkwardness. I’d come to realize that about Prim. As if she’d spent her entire life training to make others feel like they didn’t have to keep her company.
She was going to have to learn that I didn’t need to be given an out. Not when it came to her.
“What are you doing now?”
A giggle chirped past her lips. “Sitting here with you.”
“You want to walk off dinner with me?”
Her smile grew. “Sure.”
We left and then headed down Fifth, blending in with the sidewalk traffic that had a mind of its own. We chatted a little about the city. Surface-level stuff. Never once did she bring up the subject of my father. Most women would push, poking the festered wound. Anything if it meant consuming some part of me.
But with Prim, none of that mattered. It was just the here and now.
“Oh!” She stopped outside the window of a record shop. “Can we go in here?”
“You don’t have to ask for permission, Prim,” I said, chuckling. “We can do whatever you want.”
Her grin deepened. “Okay.” She was tentative at first, but then she latched on to my arm and pulled. “Come on, Mr. Pierce. We have a date with vinyl.”
It was a small shop, crammed with aisles of old records. “At Last” by Etta James played overhead, filling the dusty place with life.
“I love the smell of vinyl, don’t you?” she asked as her hands skimmed across the dust jackets. Her feet nearly skipped down the aisles.
I stood back, watching her. Admiring her. The pale pink jeans that hugged her waist and complemented her supple ass. The off-white cashmere sweater that fell perfectly against her breasts. The ankle-high army boots that suggested she was still fierce beneath all the soft colors.
My hands shoved into my pockets. “I can’t say I’ve ever even listened to a record, let alone smelled one.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Why, Mr. Pierce, I don’t think we can be seen together.”
The grin she pulled from me burned for her.
“Come here.” She waved me closer. Her delicate fingers pillaged through a row of jackets with expertise. “This one.” She plucked one from the bunch and then held it up to her nose. A second later, it was under mine.
I could just see it now, the next headline with a stolen photo of me sniffing a record—“Grayson Pierce—Insanely Hot or Just Plain Insane?”
The thing was, with Prim, I didn’t care.
“It smells like an era gone by, doesn’t it?”
I tried. Really tried to experience the same sensations.
When she laughed, I felt my shoulders go lax.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Not everyone gets it. I’m a little on the strange side.”
She slid the record back into its spot and then headed further into the store, back into a corner where old record players were displayed.
“My grandparents had one like this. My grandpa used to put on all kinds of records, and I’d lie there with him on the carpet and listen for hours and hours.”
The sad lilt to her tone told me he had passed on. There wasn’t a single thing hidden in the way she carried herself. She was an open book for anyone to read.
The music shifted as she ran a finger over the record player. She spun, her eyes as wide as her mouth. “ ‘Crash into Me’! My favorite!”
The next thing I knew, she was in my arms, guiding me into a dance. We stilled the moment we realized how close we were. Hips against hips. Hand clutching hand. Our bodies drawing us together before we even knew what had happened.
Panic, or maybe something like uncertainty, stole the color of her eyes. She tried to retreat, but I held tight, wrapping an arm around her waist for added measure.
I’d give her no room for doubt.
When she settled, my hand slowly brushed against her back, her skin shivering. I memorized every inch on the way to the precious arch. Pulled her a little closer, nose grazing against her forehead as the lead singer wove a story that seemed to melt the world away. Her body molded itself to mine, the notes of the song tightening an invisible string around us, until her chest was pressed against mine.
I swallowed thickly, something smoldering beneath the cage of my chest. This was a moment I’d never forget. Not the sweet scent of her skin. Not the way she so perfectly fit against me.
And especially not the look in her eyes.
She released a sigh when her head rested against my chest, and I grinned, a warmth spreading throughout me I’d yet to feel before. Overwhelming and intoxicating. I surrendered to it. To her.
We moved in a soothing sway. Her hips in sync with mine. My chin resting beside her warm cheek.
“This song … the longing in his voice. Have you ever felt that way? Twisted and tied up inside over someone?”
I swallowed thickly. If you only knew. “Yeah,” I said, peering down at her when she pulled her head back. “You?”
“Twisted up? I don’t think so. I mean … I don’t know. One day though,” she mused, “maybe when the right guy comes along.”
I wasn’t prepared for the jarring of her words. I knew what the song was about. It didn’t take but seconds to piece together what she meant. It all made sense. The openness of her eyes … as if she’d never been hurt before. The innocence in her shyness, as if she’d never been touched. I stilled with her in my arms.
She was a virgin. Had to be.
I held her tighter.
When the song ended, we slowed to a stop. Her head tilted back, and her eyes met mine. My heart tripped over itself. It was like she carried the universe within those twin blue orbs. Where all the truths to every secret lay.
“Wow.” It was all I could say. All I could do not to kiss her right there. And, God, did I want to. But I wouldn’t take that from her. Not until I knew she was ready.
Instead, I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Her large, round eyes retracted from mine, a shadow moving in. “Grayson … there’s something I have to tell you. Something I—”
“You don’t have to explain.” The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she owed me an explanation. Especially inside of a record store. I peered to the right. “I think we’ve found ourselves an audience.”
The few people in the shop who’d been watching us quickly turned away when they realized they’d been spotted.
Prim doubled over in laughter, a healthy flush rising up the base of her neck. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder as her laughter tapered off. “Walk me home?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
We headed back out and then boarded the subway, which was only mildly packed.
“Look.” She pointed to a storage facility. “Every morning, there’s a little old woman sitting outside of her unit. It’s full of stuff. Overflowing. She doesn’t know it, but I wave to her. It’s become a habit of mine to look for her. If I see her, I know I’m going to have a good day.”
“And here I thought, you’d be a reader. Nose in a book. Headphones on.”
“Oh, I am.” She opened her tote, revealing her Kindle. “But I don’t plug in until after I spot her. It’s an OCD thing.”
The announcer came over the speaker, telling us we’d made it to her stop. After getting off, we walked the block to her tiny apartment and then paused outside the doorway. I loved where she lived. It didn’t hold the same erratic pace as the Upper East. It was calm. Casual.
“Do you want to come up?” she asked as she fiddled with the key in the doorway.
“Sure.”
Her apartment was stifling the moment she opened the door.
“The damn radiator!” After moving to the one in the kitchen, she jiggled the knob.
“Here. Let me help.” I took her from room to room, showing her the best way to adjust them, cracking windows as we went.
“I keep asking the landlord to fix them.” She picked up the TV remote and pressed the power button. “Want to stay for a movie?” A second later, her feet shifted. “Unless, of course, you have plans. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that.”
“No, no. I don’t. I can stay.”
I loved the way her smile moved. It was like the first rays of the morning sun spreading across the horizon, scaring away the night.
After scrolling through Netflix, she stopped on the horror genre. “Do you like horror films?”
“Of course.”
“Good. They’re a guilty pleasure of mine.” After selecting one, she pressed pause and then walked over to a glass tank. Placed her fingers against it. “But first, you have to meet the man of the house.”
I walked over to her as she slid the lid off and reached in. When she turned, I took one large step back.
In her hands was a big-ass lizard.
Her giggle filled the room as she ran a finger over his head. “Newt, this is Grayson Pierce. Grayson, this is Newt Scamander.”
“He’s …”
“Adorable, right?” She offered him to me, but I took another step back. “Not a fan?”
“You know, I’m not afraid of much, but lizards …” I shuddered.
She lifted him toward her face and grinned. “He’s smiling. Look.”
My head tilted to the side a little. What do you know? He sure as hell was smiling.
Well … I guessed maybe he was a little cute.
“I think he likes you,” she said as she set him back in his tank.
“Does that mean I passed?”
She patted my arm. “So far.”
We snuggled up on the couch with a bag of Hot Fries between us and Dr. Pepper on the rocks. When the scary parts came, I made sure my hand was close enough for her to grab should she want to. It was so middle school, and I loved every second of it.
When the movie came to an end, we sat there, staring at the screen.
“They always have to revive the killer somehow, don’t they?”
“Have to keep you guessing,” I noted, trying to decide whether I should make a move or not. I didn’t want to blow it. Not when we’d come this far.
She stood, which prompted me to get up as well. “This was a lot of fun.”
“It was, wasn’t it?”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Took a step toward me, eyes colliding with mine.
I felt it then. She wanted me to kiss her.
You won’t hurt me, right? Her sweet voice echoed around my skull, light and filled with innocence. Those words ripped me from the fantasy I’d concocted and planted me back in the present.
Though my heart jumped off beat, ushering me forward, I couldn’t bring myself to kiss her. I was scared. Entirely afraid of what kissing her would do to me.
Instead, I leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Good night, Miss Amberly.”
I almost missed the flicker of confusion that crossed through her eyes when she quickly turned from me.
“Until next time.”
Rule Number Three:
Scratch rule number two.
What Will Be, Will Be
> Prim
I WOKE WITH MY JOURNAL strewed across my lap. A kink had formed on the right side of my neck, sending sharp pains throughout my jaw. I glanced down at the doodle I’d drawn last night of the record storefront with question marks swarming around it and frowned.
“Thanks a lot, Dave. You were supposed to come through.”
With a groan, I tossed the journal to the side and kicked my legs over the edge of the bed. Stared at the spot by the door where I’d stood the night before, under Grayson’s spell, breath held for that monumental kiss I was sure would happen. And I’d actually wanted it to, though dissecting the why was not something I was quite ready to do. There was a bigger, more important issue at hand—he hadn’t kissed me.
I reached for my phone and opened my audio notes. Pressed record. “Everything went right. There was a moment in the record shop when the world disappeared around us, and I saw it in his eyes; he felt it too. The deep connection. The desire. But he didn’t go for the kiss. Not in the record shop and not at the end of the night. Why?”
I hit stop and set my phone down. Ran my hands through my hair and stood. It couldn’t be because he wasn’t into me. How many times had he tried to kiss me before? Enough to clarify his desire. But the one time I had been willing, he’d chosen to kiss me on the cheek instead.
Maybe it was me. Maybe I’d sent the wrong signals. Maybe I’d waited too long. I was, after all, not the most graceful when it came to dating.
Maybe … maybe he’d just realized I wasn’t what he wanted.
I marked off another day on my calendar and rushed to get ready. I wanted to get into the office before everyone else and do a little research. Maybe find some kind of suggestion to help me figure out where things had gone wrong and set me back on the right track.
Of course, the subway was thirty minutes late due to construction. When I finally squeezed my way onto the train, there was nowhere to sit, let alone stand. I was wedged between multiple bodies, all men, who ensured their crotches were pressed against me.
When it came time to go underground, I tried to peer past a shoulder to see if the woman was at her unit, but I couldn’t see past the man’s height. A quaking, simmering fear took hold of my gut. What would that mean for the rest of my day? What else could possibly go wrong?
Love in the Headlines: A Star-Crossed Friends-To-Lovers Romance (Love in the Headlines Series Book 1) Page 11