by Rae Kennedy
Eric is watching me with an amused grin. “So you’re telling me I should be nervous that one day you’re just going to get tired of me and dump me without warning because you can’t commit? Or because of my breath?”
My heart beats forcefully against my chest. I don’t know what to say to that. Am I going to do that to him? Am I going to break his heart? Am I even capable of sticking with something, with someone?
He tips my chin toward him and leans closer. “Ky, I’m not worried about that. You know why?”
I shake my head, still unable to form words, clueless as to why he isn’t worried about that after my confessions, because I sure as hell am.
“Because I know you. I know this notion you have in your head isn’t true. You are the most loyal, dedicated friend to Gracie. I know you’d do anything for her.”
“Obviously. But that’s diff—”
“It’s not. And your commitment to your grandpa? I don’t know any other teenagers who would visit every day for years. That’s devotion. When it matters to you, you don’t quit.”
I give him a tentative smile. He really believes I am this wonderful person. No wonder he adores me—he has no idea how much of a hot mess I am.
“The powdered milk breath wasn’t even the shallowest reason I’ve dumped someone. I ended it with Max Warner because he would always wear his baseball cap crooked. But, like, on purpose. If I ever tried to straighten it, he would adjust it right back. Drove me nuts.”
Eric is full on laughing now, wiping a tear away from one eye before placing his hands on both sides of my face. “Ky, you’re not going to scare me away. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Promise?”
He nods and then kisses me on the tip of my nose. He kisses my right cheek, and then my left. And then he’s kissing my lips and I feel weightless. Like I'm floating high, surrounded by fluffy white clouds. It’s magical and exhilarating yet horrifying at the same time because the threat of hitting the ground still lingers in the back of my mind.
I lean into Eric, deepening the kiss even as our mouths move slowly, our tongues lazily intertwining, his hands at my waist. Somehow, I think he will catch me if I fall.
* * *
He’d asked me to stay with him again. I’d wanted to, too. I could have stayed wrapped in his arms all night. But I begrudgingly snuck back into Gracie’s bed a little after two in the morning and now the bitch is waking me up at seven? I swear I mean bitch in the most endearing way possible, but what the actual fuck? It’s my day off.
But she actually looks excited this morning with the first real, genuine smile I’ve seen from her since she’s been home.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says as she gets dressed, “and I’ve made a couple decisions. Big decisions.”
I rub my face and yawn as I stretch my toes. “What kind of decisions?”
“I’m going to tell my parents that I don’t want to go back to school. At least not this semester.”
“Well, now that they know how hard of a first year you had, I’m sure they’ll understand that.”
“And I’ve also decided I want to move. To Chicago.”
“You want to move? To Chicago?”
“Yup. I think it’ll be good for me. A new start in a new place. Somewhere big enough I can be anonymous and have a new adventure. But it’s still close to home, so it’s not actually that big of deal.”
“It’s still kind of a big deal.”
“I know. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and you know, I never really saw myself staying here all my life.”
“Yeah, but I always kind of hoped you’d change your mind. You know I’ll support you, but I kind of hate the idea of you and I not living six and a half songs apart anymore. How do you think your parents will take it?”
She chews on the inside of her cheek. “They’ll probably hate it more than you. I’m going to tell them tonight. But there are a bunch of other things I want to do today first.”
Those “other things” include getting her a new phone and new phone number and driving to the next town over to go to a beauty supply store, where I learn I’ve been volunteered to dye her hair.
We get a plethora of supplies and bright pink hair dye in the color Electric Paradise. I don’t have experience dying hair, except for that one time I dyed my hair black during my two-month-long goth phase sophomore year, so we’ll see how this goes.
Gracie is very trusting.
“If you’re going to have pink hair, I think you also need an edgier cut. Maybe a blunt long bob, just at your shoulders? We could even do some thick, straight bangs, if you want.” I comb my fingers through her hair as she sits cross-legged on the floor of her room in front of her floor-length mirror.
She studies her reflection for a minute, tilting her head and screwing up her lips. “Let’s do it. I’m ready for a change.”
Her hair is a bright pink pile of goop on top of her head as I massage all around her head, looking for any missed spots and making sure I got all the roots.
I read over the directions for the tenth time. “Okay. Says it needs to sit for forty-five minutes and then we’ll rinse it out in cold water. Let’s hope I didn’t totally fuck up your hair. Because it’s a definite possibility.”
“I’m not worried. I have total faith in you.”
These Gallagher siblings, man. Apparently have a thing for giving me way too much credit.
“Ky.”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“Go with you where?”
“To Chicago. Think about it. We could find an apartment together and be roommates. You have lots of waitressing experience—we could both find a job at a restaurant or bar for a little while. It would be so much fun going out and meeting new people!”
“That would be fun, but...”
“But? What? Your grandpa is about as far away from Chicago as he is from here, and your mom wants you to find a new place. Why not a new place in the city? There isn’t really anything keeping you here, right?”
“Uh...” Eric’s mischievous smirk flashes through my mind. And then those lips, and the way they feel on me. And his words you’re stuck with me now. This is where I should tell her about him. About us.
But she’s looking at me so hopefully, like this plan is the best idea and it’s literally giving her life. Her cheeks are rosy, her blue eyes wide and bright.
“Right. I’ll think about it, okay?”
She squeals and claps her hands. “This is so exciting. I’m going to start apartment hunting right away!”
I smile wearily and try to steer the conversation to other topics as we rinse out her hair and I finish up the cut. I’m blow-drying it when there’s movement in the doorway.
Eric is leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and an amused expression as he watches us.
“I had to see this for myself,” he says.
I shoot him a playful glare and turn Gracie toward the mirror so she can see it too. It’s sort of like a neon bubblegum pink. It looks great with her skin tone.
“Wow, I love it. You did such a good job.” She turns and fluffs her hair in the mirror.
“Yeah. It looks nice.” Eric shoves off the doorway and steps into the room.
But he’s not looking at Gracie’s hair. His hand comes up and it almost looks like he’s going to reach for my waist before he pulls it back.
“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Ky’s pretty talented at doing hair,” he says.
“That’s oddly specific. How do you know that?” Gracie gets up and arranges her freshly cut bangs.
“She’s been cutting her grandpa’s hair for years, and she cut mine a couple weeks ago.”
Gracie turns to me. “You cut Eric’s hair?”
“Yep, and I was definitely her favorite client. She told me so.”
I roll my eyes.
“I was thinking your hair looked different. I like it,” Gracie says to E
ric.
“Me too. I’d pay her to cut my hair every week if she’d be up for it.” He winks at me over Gracie’s head. He’s probably just remembering my boobs being at eye-level the whole time.
“That’s an awesome idea.” Gracie says. “Have you ever thought about being a hairstylist? I bet there are some great cosmetology schools in Chicago. I can help you look into it!”
“Chicago?” He’s trying to look at me with a neutral expression, but his eyes. His eyes give him away.
“Yeah. I’ve decided I’m going to move to Chicago and Kyla might come with me. Speaking of which, I’m going to tell Mom and Dad at dinner—”
Gracie continues on for a bit about her plans but I can’t concentrate on anything but the way Eric’s brown eyes are boring into me. At once they’re questioning, hurt. But at the same time accusatory.
“I only said I’d think about it. Nothing’s been decided. The idea wasn’t even a thing until, like, an hour ago.”
Eric doesn’t say anything, his jaw tight.
“It’s kind of perfect, though,” Gracie goes on, oblivious to the fact that she’s the only one in the room excited about this plan. “Kyla needs to move to a new place, anyway. Why not a new city, with me?”
Eric widens his stance, arms crossed. “She could move in—she has other places to go.”
Gracie looks at him curiously. Then to me. Then back to him like she’s just figured out there’s some tension going on but she’s not sure where it’s coming from.
I’m in the middle of a weird game of tug-of-war where I’m the rope-thing between my two favorite Gallaghers and in the middle is a big pit-sized wheelbarrow of shit and I don’t want to fall in it, or let either of them fall in.
“Hey, I’m going to go home. I actually have a lot of laundry to catch up on and I have to get up kind of early for work. So, I’ll see you later, yeah?” There. That was only slightly awkward.
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Gracie’s little blonde brows furrow as I snatch my phone to leave.
I have to walk past a steely faced Eric to get to the door. “Gallagher.”
“Rosenbaum.”
CHAPTER 25
On one side of my room is a giant pile of dirty clothes that need washed. On the other is a stack of boxes. How lovely.
I go out to find my mom putting away dishes in the kitchen.
“I didn’t realize you wanted me out so soon. Have you already started packing for me, too?”
She shuts the dishwasher. “Of course I haven’t started packing. There were just some extra boxes at work that I thought would be useful.”
She’s dressed up for work and I thought she had just gotten home but she grabs her purse and heads toward the door. “I’ve got to go. I’m helping cover graveyards until Ashley gets back from maternity leave. Have you given any more thought on your hours at the diner? I can put you on the schedule for Saturday if you want.”
“But Saturday is when I visit Grandpa.”
“So...you can visit him on Sunday or another of your days off. It’s up to you, but weekends are where the money is for serving.”
“I know.” I huff out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll do Saturday.”
“All right.” She pokes her head back through the door at the last second. “And Kyla Jean, you need to take care of that laundry.”
I suppress a frustrated groan but I can’t stop the eyeroll. “I was already planning on it.” Fucking hell.
I throw as many clothes into the washer as will fit then fling myself on my bed and lay on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling while listening to the whooshing sounds of the water through the walls.
Something pulls me awake. It’s dark and quiet in my room, the sky a pitch black out the window. Must have fallen asleep before I could move the load to the dryer. Oops.
Then I hear the noise again, a loud tapping on the window.
What in the world?
The tapping comes again with a whispered, “Kyla,” and then a muffled, “Sonofabitch.”
I go to the window. Eric is there in a hoodie and jeans in an aggressive stand-off with the large rosebush.
I rush to open the window as he swats away one of the limbs.
“Do you know this thing is covered in thorns?”
I try not to giggle. “Um, yeah. Why are you sneaking to my window?”
“I don’t know, just trying to make your fantasies come true.”
“Fantasies?”
“Yeah, you told me I snuck into your window that time you were thinking about me.”
“Huh?”
“The one where I came into your room and jerked off for you. Are you going to let me in or not? I’m getting fucking stabbed out here.”
“Oh, yeah, shit. Sorry.”
Getting him in the window is not nearly as easy or elegant as in my fantasy. For starters, there’s a screen in my window we have to remove first. And then he has to hike himself up and through an area that’s not actually very big. I didn’t realize his shoulders were that wide, and, honestly, I should have just gone and let him in the front door at this point, but he already dealt with the bush and everything.
“Hey, beautiful.” He pulls me to him after he’s finally in. “I hope you appreciated that because I’m never doing it again.”
“In my fantasy, you more or less materialized in like you were a ghost or Edward Cullen or something.”
“So you’re not impressed?”
I shrug, actively biting back a smile.
His eyes heat and he looks like he wants to spank me for being a brat. I’d totally let him. Oh, maybe that’s my kink.
He runs the edges of his teeth along his bottom lip. “I seem to remember in this fantasy of yours, you were lying naked on your bed for me.”
I swallow thickly. “Uh, yeah.”
He moves in to kiss my neck as he drags his hands up under my shirt, his fingertips trailing lightly over my spine and around to my stomach. Before I know it, I’m leaning into his kisses and sighing heavily as the stubble along his jaw tickles against my throat and he’s removing my shirt and pushing down my shorts.
And then we’re shuffling to the bed and he lays me down, coming to hover over me when he spies the cluster of boxes in the corner.
“What are those for?”
“Moving.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m not moving to Chicago. I’ve never wanted to live anywhere else. I guess there’s some sort of nostalgia here for me that I don’t think I could ever leave, which is weird because I'm not particularly sentimental.”
Eric’s lips twitch. “Well, I was sort of hoping you weren’t going to leave me so soon.”
“I just didn’t want to tell her no right away, you know?”
“Gracie’s a big girl—you don’t need to coddle her. Do you know she grilled me for an hour after you left?”
“She did? Why?”
“She’s convinced that I have feelings for you and I’m being a stubborn idiot by not making a move.”
“Oh.” I rub up his arms and arch to place a quick peck to his lips. “Well, you were kind of an idiot for not making a move sooner.” I run my hands across his chest and down his stomach. “Just think about how much longer we could have been doing this already?”
“And think about how much more we could be doing if we weren’t sneaking around and keeping it a secret.” He brushes his lips behind my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “I almost told her about us.” He pulls back just enough to look at my face. “We need to tell her.”
I know he’s right.
“Okay. I’ll tell her.”
“Like, tomorrow?”
“Soon. But we still have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not naked yet.”
He gives me a little snarl then nips at my bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth before kissing me hard. He undoes my bra and works my panties down to my knees, then pushes off the bed and stands before me, panting. My pa
le skin is flushed red all over.
“Take them off,” he says in a gruff tone.
I finish removing my bra and panties as he takes off his hoodie. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath so now he’s bare-chested as he pops open the top button of his jeans.
“Spread your legs, Rosenbaum.”
Shit. I don’t think anyone has ever bossed me around like this and it has me throbbing between my thighs.
I prop myself up on my elbows as I spread my feet apart, opening myself to him. The air is cool against my wet cunt, now exposed fully for his eyes. His gaze devours me as he roughly unzips his pants and shoves them down. He wasn’t wearing anything under those, either.
He’s already hard as he takes himself in hand.
“You want to watch me jerk off?” he asks, low and husky.
I nod, not trusting my voice to come out as anything but a quivering mess right now.
He strokes up and down his cock, slow but his fist is tight, and he rubs hard over the tip, making it bulge and darken.
“I want to watch you too. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone.”
I slide my hand down my stomach to press two fingers along my seam. My pussy is already soft and swollen, and as he watches me touch myself, it gets hotter. Wetter.
“You’re so sexy. Gorgeous.” His words are stilted as he jacks himself with more fervor.
I rub around my clit and moan at the sensation that buzzes through me at the contact.
“God, Ky. You’re perfect. Do you usually just play with your clit or do you fuck yourself with your fingers too?”
“I...I usually use a vibrator.”
He slows his strokes and licks his lips. “Where is it? I’ll get it for you.”
My heart beats faster. “Behind you. Top drawer.”
He opens the drawer then looks back at me over his shoulder, head cocked with a wicked grin. “Which one do you want, Rosenbaum?”
“You pick.” I don’t care right now. All I want is him. His eyes watching me. His hands on me. His mouth. His tongue. His words. His body—on me. In me.
He pulls out the silver bullet vibrator and comes back to me, his erection jutting straight out, bobbing as he walks. I mean, I’ll take Chris Pine, but I know what I really want.