I shuddered and broke eye contact. “Eh, I’m more the anti-hero, I think.”
She leaned into me, we were touching, and then things clicked not because I was touching her, but because I wanted to touch her more, because even if all she did was let me press my skin against hers — I would be okay with it. Sure, I wanted more skin, more kissing, more exploring, but in a weird twist of fate, I just wanted whatever she’d offer, and even if it was the smallest kiss, I wanted to make it the best kiss of her existence.
“I think,” I drew a slow circle on her arm, my finger barely grazing her skin. “What you’re trying quite horribly to explain is that you want the song to be more anticipation, less action.”
“Y-yes.” She shivered. I hoped it was from my proximity, not the cold. “That.”
My fingers slowly moved up her arm until I brushed the hair back from her neck. Then I leaned over and placed a kiss against her pulse. “And… the song should be about exploration, more your body is a wonderland and less I wanna li-li-li-lick you from your head to your toes. And I wanna move from the bed down, to the down to the, to the floor. I wanna ah-ah, you make it so good I don't wanna leave. But I got to kn-kn-kn-know what's your fan-ta-sy?”
Her mouth dropped open. I shut it with my pinkie finger.
With a shudder, she pulled away and looked down at her frayed jeans, torn a bit at the knee. “Yes, um, that.”
“So, two guys huh?” I said leaning back on my hands, changing the subject out of pure necessity since I’d almost kissed her at least a dozen times in the past minute.
Her smile was like a shot to the chest, and it was directed at me. “Two guys, hardly a harem.”
“Naturally. Since harems are typically filled with women.”
“Ha ha.” She shoved my chest.
“And how were these two guys? And before you tell me, note that I’m already imagining they have really bad teen acne and braces, so spare no detail if I’m right.”
Fallon burst out laughing. “Is that all you think I can get? Bad teen acne and braces?”
“No.” I said softly, and I meant it. I scooted closer to her. “I’m just hoping I’m the only guy that’s ever kissed you that way, touched you, elicited those nice little pants you always give off every time I’m close.”
She turned away her cheeks flushing again. “Well, one was on the football team. Linebacker, more muscle than brains but actually really sweet. We were friends, went to Homecoming together—”
“Where he was crowned king?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not that stereotypical, and no I didn’t lose my virginity on prom night.”
I was shaking, and I had no idea why. I had this sick need to know more, to compare myself to two dicks I didn’t even know! For absolutely no reason.
“And the other?”
“We met at band camp.” She said with a straight face.
“You’re shitting me.”
She shook her head. “He was first drummer.”
“Why the hell is it always the drummer? Is it because they have two sticks?”
Fallon ducked her head. “He had good hands.”
I clenched my own into fists and glared. “Good hands?”
“For music.” She grinned. “You know, for pounding things.”
With a groan I tore my gaze away from her face, I only had so much self-control and I’d never been good with temptation — which is why I never put myself in situations where I’d get physically attached to someone.
Until now.
“I have hands.” Oh good, Zane. Great, you have hands? Really man?
“I see that.” Fallon reached for one and interlaced her fingers in mine. It felt natural, sitting with her on the beach, holding her hand. She had no way of knowing that the last person who purposefully held my hand — held me.
Was dead.
Or, that I’d been spending the last sixteen years of my life, trying to make a ghost proud.
Fallon
Friends. I think I hated that word. Maybe he did too? I couldn’t read him, and I’d always thought I was good at that, reading people, observing, watching. He tensed at the strangest moments, hunched his shoulders in crowds as if he was afraid someone was going to shank him, and he was more comfortable naked than with clothes on.
Four days in, and I wasn’t any closer to figuring out Zane Andrews, if anything, he was getting more and more complicated, like a maze that twisted every time you thought you had the way out decided.
“I need food.” Zane said a few minutes later, we’d been sitting on the beach holding hands in silence for ten minutes.
I had no idea what it meant.
To me? More than it should.
To him? I was probably just a body, a hand, a small hand that fit in his gruff hands. Calluses from playing guitar rose over his rough palm, they kissed my soft skin, causing a friction that reminded me too much about who he was compared to me.
He was like a shark, claiming he could play nice with his fish. At some point, the fish pushes the shark too far and gets eaten. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Yeah, I would probably enjoy that process more than I’d care to admit.
Zane stood, pulling me to my feet, and then reached into his pocket and glanced at his phone, letting out another string of curses that had my cheeks heating. I had to give him points for creative use of the F-word.
It made me uncomfortable.
I had trouble saying ass.
Ugh, great, now I was the sheltered girl.
Not that I’d ever pretended to be anything else.
“Everything okay?” I chanced asking.
“Agent. Not happy. World. Not happy. What are the chances that the apocalypse happens before my album drops?”
“Uh, do you want it to happen?”
“Sorry,” He shook his head, as though he was trying to snap himself out of a stupor. “I’m just stressed.”
“That’s what you pay me for, right?” I elbowed him in the ribs, “Your personal tour guide slash assistant slash marshmallow dealer.”
He burst out laughing and reached for my hand again “And a chapstick supplier. Don’t forget the chapstick.”
I should pull away.
Already I was getting too attached, but I justified my behavior. I would regret not spending every moment with him, right? Because already, I missed him, even if he drove me insane half the time.
We walked hand in hand to the boardwalk and made our way into Maggie’s on the Prom. It was one of my favorite spots because they always had blankets for their customers and often had an amazing array of hot drinks and happy hour appetizers. There was nothing better than hearing the ocean crash while sipping coffee snuggled in a blanket.
Before I could sit down, Zane was already grabbing me one of their wool blankets and wrapping it around my body before tucking in the edges, so I had no use of my hands. Smirking, he grabbed his own and placed it on his lap then started reading the menu out loud.
“What sounds good?” He winked. “Oyster shooters? Salad?” His eyes narrowed. “Let me guess you want fish?”
I frowned. “I like fish.”
“Because you hate meat.”
I couldn’t hold back my smile. “You figured it out.”
“Who doesn’t like burgers?”
“Me.”
“But it’s meat.”
“I think I know where burgers come from.”
“Is this all meat?” His wicked smile had me squirming in my seat as he leaned forward. “Hey, you like science. Should we conduct an experiment?”
“Nope.” I shivered, but I was hot — from his look, from the way the shadow of fresh beard growth had his smile looking more wicked and dirty than it should. I wanted to feel the scruff against my fingers tips, imagined it against my cheek as we kissed, my thighs… Whoa, whoa, whoa! I mentally slapped myself.
His face had literally been plastered against so many female parts that I would probably catch something and have to go to the
free clinic.
It was an unfair assessment, but probably true.
He couldn’t help but scream sex with every word that came out of his mouth, the way he walked, even the way he touched me, nothing about it was friendly, but I think he had good intentions. I don’t think he could help it or knew how to pull back.
“Oyster shooters.” I blurted. “I love them.”
He scrunched up his nose. “Fine, and you want some shrimps on your salad.”
“Did you just say shrimps?” I giggled.
He tossed the menu onto the table. “That’s what they are.”
“Shrimp is both singular and plural.”
“And yet, shrimps still sounds bad ass.”
“In what universe?”
“Mine.” He chuckled. “The only one that counts.”
“Such a true and sad statement,” I teased, finally pulling my hands free from the mummified blanket tying compliments of Zane. “Also I want a diet coke.”
“I’m ordering you real coke.”
“Like the drug?” I gasped.
“Very funny.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve never actually done coke or any other drug thank you very much.”
“Marshmallows.” I coughed.
He flipped me off then reached into his pocket.
And paled.
“What?” I was still grinning. “What is it?”
He bit out a curse. “I forgot marshmallows.”
“O…kay…” I drew out the word slowly. “And?”
He curled his hands into two tight fists as his body began to shake.
“Zane, that’s not funny.”
“Do you think I’m trying to be funny right now?” He bit out, knocking his chair backwards as he stood on wobbly legs and then drunkenly stumbled down the rocky path.
“Wait!” I ran after him, tossing the blanket back onto the chair, he was walking like he’d just taken a hit of some drug.
“Zane!” I pleaded catching up to him and grabbing his hand, he didn’t squeeze it back — he always squeezed it back, but his hands were clammy, freezing. And when he looked at me, it was as if he lost complete focus. “Hey, hey, let’s just walk back okay? You’re fine.”
His nostrils flared, but he managed a small nod before leaning at least half his weight on me. It took a crazy amount of effort not to zigzag while I walked; he was at least sixty pounds heavier than me, and on top of that, he was mumbling curses under his breath, which wasn’t at all helpful in our current situation. The more he talked, the more freaked out I became. He wasn’t making sense at all.
“Tell me about… the song.” I said quickly.
“Songs,” he whispered. “I know you’re trying to help.” He bit out another curse and stumbled. “Sorry, I’m just… it’s not. Helpful. I need marshmallows.”
“Okay.” I gulped. “We’ll get you marshmallows.”
“Like a child.” He sounded disgusted with himself.
As we rounded the corner, I could see the house up on the cliff, we needed to do a bit of a climb once we reached the stairs.
“HOLY SHIT!” a girl yelled. “IT’S ZANE ANDREWS!”
Zane froze; the look he gave me was beyond pathetic.
I didn’t know what to do.
I quickly looked around us. The girls were in the parking lot near one of the hotels, we couldn’t hide in the bushes by the beach. We could make it as far as the stairs but….
“Give me your phone.” I pleaded while still trying to lead him, this time faster to the stairs.
Zane didn’t answer, if anything he paled more.
“Frick.” I reached into his pocket and prayed his phone wasn’t password protected and quickly scrolled through the last few calls, praying Jaymeson would be one of them.
He was.
I pressed the green button. “Zane, we need to go NOW.”
He was moving faster, but still heavy, still talking nonsense, still about two steps away from looking like he was going to collapse and start rocking back and forth.
“Hello?” Jaymeson answered on the second ring.
“Something’s wrong with Zane!” I yelled. “No marshmallows and girls are chasing us, and I’m on the stairs and—“
He hung up on me.
Well, that worked out well!
“Zane,” I shoved his phone in my pocket, “We have like five flights of stairs and the girls are running at us, I need you to do me a favor.”
His breathing was heavy as he leaned against me and nodded. “Okay.”
“Think about your marshmallows.”
His smile was faint.
“The sweet taste, the way they smell, the way they calm you down, think about your marshmallows. Because if those girls catch us you’re probably going to get taken advantage of, and any hope of seeing more marshmallows disappears right along with your dignity, alright?”
His breathing slowed, and then he locked eyes with me. “Alright.”
“Good. Now. Run.”
Hand in hand, we jogged up the stairs, he continued to stumble, and then I saw not just Jaymeson at the top of the stairs but Alec and Demetri Daniels, and Lincoln Greene.
In the back of my mind, I had a minor freak out, I mean the guys were all so famous I should be terrified. Instead, it was like Zane’s family had just arrived and were going to unleash hell. They all looked pissed, but not at me.
“Almost there.” I ushered Zane forward until finally, we both collapsed in a heap on the grass just below the beach house.
Alec turned around and motioned to two huge dudes who made their way down the stairs and stood, arms crossed.
Bodyguards?
Duh! Why didn’t Zane just take his bodyguards? Unless they weren’t his?
Ugh, I was too exhausted. And was officially swearing off stairs for the next ten years.
“Hey,” I reached for Zane. “Are you okay?”
He jerked away from me. “Don’t.”
Jaymeson sighed a curse and helped me to my feet. “I’ll take you home.”
“No!” I pulled away. “I’m worried. This isn’t normal!”
Demetri winced and shared a look with Alec before nodding his head at me. “Jay’s right, Fallon, is it?”
I hung my head. “Yeah.”
“Nothing about this is normal.” Lincoln said under his breath before reaching for Zane’s arm, but Zane refused to get up. Instead, he crossed his arms and sat on the grass like a petulant child.
“This is stupid.” Glaring, I pointed at Zane. “You need to get off your ass and get in the house. They could be taking pictures of this.”
“Good point,” Jaymeson added. “The guys will get him inside, and I’ll take you home.” This time, he reached for me.
“I drove.” I took a step back and stared at Zane, waiting for him to respond.
He looked right through me, angry, like it was my fault.
“Zane, you need to get up.”
“Go to hell.” He finally stood on wobbly legs while Jaymeson came up beside him.
“Excuse me?” I lunged for him, but Lincoln Greene, movie star Lincoln Greene, held me back by the arm. “This isn’t NORMAL! What aren’t you people getting?”
“Welcome to Hollywood,” Zane said in a bitter tone and marched off while Lincoln pulled me against his chest, probably afraid I was going to chase after his friend and launch myself against his body. But I had no strength left, even if it did sound like a really solid plan.
“He doesn’t mean it.” Lincoln finally released me. “He’s just going through a hard time.”
I pressed my hands to my face and took a few deep breaths. “He had a meltdown.”
Lincoln winced.
“Because he forgot a freaking marshmallow.”
Jaymeson stepped forward. “Fallon, you should go.”
“But—”
“Now.” His steely gaze said there was no room for arguing. “Go to the press about this, and I’ll not only sue your family, but make sure your parents lose e
verything including their house… over a crush.”
My mouth dropped open.
Mine wasn’t the only shocked expression of the group.
Alec and Demetri looked ready to pass out while Lincoln cursed. “Jackass,” under his breath.
Tears clouded my vision as I shoved past everyone and made my way to my car.
As luck would have it, my Jetta refused to start.
Which meant, I was walking.
A knock sounded at my window scaring the crap out of me. I quickly wiped my cheeks and rolled down the glass. “What?”
Alec held up his hands. “Whoa, I’m not the enemy here. I live down by the beach. I’ll take you home. That is, unless you want to stay here sobbing in front of the house because a privileged star just yelled at you?”
I smiled at that. “I’d rather not.”
“Didn’t think so.” He opened the car door and led me over to a brand new black Range Rover. “Hop in before he apologizes.”
“Yeah right.”
“In three, two, one—”
Jay came running out of the house.
I hopped in the SUV so fast that my elbow hit the side in an effort to slam the door.
“Good choice.” Alec started the engine and flashed me a devastating smile. “We have ten minutes with Seaside traffic. Start at the beginning.”
Zane
“Every time,” Grandma whispered in her frail voice. “Every single time you get sad or scared… know that I’ll always be with you.” Her knotted arthritic hand touched my face. “I love you, Zane.”
“But…” I sobbed against the blankets, the blankets that smelled like her vanilla perfume and roses. “How will I know you’re with me? How will I know if I can’t feel you!” She was dying. And it was my fault. She always gave me her food. Every single time. She said I was a growing boy. And I was always hungry, but she needed meatloaf too! I told her so all the time, but she said she was fine with just a few bites.
She always gave me the bigger portion.
And watered down her own milk so I’d have some for dinner.
It was one of my favorites. Cold milk.
Memories of better days assaulted me.
I was only seven.
She took my sisters and me in when our parents abandoned us for drugs.
Take Me To The Beach Page 176