by Tay Marley
I’m plastered.
It was dead quiet except for his deep breathing, and I began to accept that he was, once again, not going to answer me. Suddenly, there was a ruffle of movement and then, when my brain caught up with what I was seeing, Drayton was hovering above me, and I was encased beneath him. His strong arms and legs were on either side of me while his face hovered an inch above mine.
“What are you doing?” I mumbled, just able to see his smolder-
ing expression in the shadow.
“We’re alone.” His voice was low and aroused a dangerous feeling in the pit of my stomach. “We’re both half dressed; we’re both into having a good time. No one would have to know.”
My throat was so dry I couldn’t talk. My gaze moved between his lips and the darkness in his eyes. I could feel the heat of his body hovering above mine. His legs grazed the outside of my thighs and his chest lightly brushed mine. His face slowly inched down, and I think he was waiting for me to say no.
Say no. Say no. Say no. Say no.
When I could feel the soft plump of his lips ever so slightly graze mine, my eyes closed. The warning voice in my head was drowned out by his intoxicating scent and his hot breath, fanning my skin. But before our mouths met, I felt his lips gently kiss my forehead, and I looked up to find him staring at me with a smug smirk.
“I just thought I’d show you that if I wanted you, I could have you.”
He rolled back over to his side of the bed with a satisfied sigh, leaving me a hot mess as I rapidly breathed and processed what I’d been about to do. I blamed the alcohol.
“I actually hate you,” I snapped, rolling over to face the door rather than his idiotic face.
Not for the first time that night we fell into a quiet lull, the air thick with tension. I wasn’t sure what it was about him, but I felt so let down when I didn’t get the sweeter side of him—the one that I’d had dinner with. I didn’t mind his humor or the innuendo, or even him teasing me like that. But the smarmy-bastard attitude was gross. And it was more disappointing than I wanted it to be. The room grew quiet except for our breathing.
“Dallas, I’m sorry.”
Going against my better judgment, I turned around and gave him a narrow glare. “Did you just say sorry?”
“Yes,” he sighed and leaned on an elbow. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I kept them trained above his shoulders, refusing to let them travel to his chest. “I shouldn’t have done that just now, and I shouldn’t have said what I said on Tuesday. That was messed up.”
“You know what else was messed up?” I leaned on an elbow as well. “Pretending to abduct me back in Cripple Creek. I’m serious. Talk about emotional scarring.”
There was a flinch in his expression and his features became cold for a moment. “The emotional scarring might have been a bit worse if you’d been raped.”
“True.” I swallowed, feeling squeamish under his stare. “That was cruel, though. Come on. Yo—”
“You wouldn’t listen or behave like a rational human being. I did what I had to.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Did it scare you? Would you walk alone at night again?”
“Yes, it did. And no, I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t usually do that anyway. It just sort of happened.”
“Look, I’m not apologizing for the lesson, but I do apologize for scaring you.”
“The two sort of go hand in hand,” I said. “Forgiveness is granted, but you’re on probation. Do something stupid like that again and you’ll be eating through a straw for the rest of your life.”
“Damn, Cheer.” He recoiled. “You’re violent.”
“Yep.” I smiled. “I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Are you a drug dealer? After that dumbass comment on the field this week, I’m curious.”
“No,” he laughed. “Sometimes I have a puff at a party, but that’s about it.”
When I was about to ask what had possessed him to make such a stupid comment about my use of drugs, my phone flashed and vibrated. I snatched it from the comforter beside Drayton and fell onto my back, reading the home screen.
“Tinder?” Drayton scooted closer, a scandalized note in his tone. “You’re on Tinder?”
“Do you know what boundaries are?” I reached out an arm and dropped the phone on the bedside table.
“You don’t need to be on Tinder.” His gaze appraised me again and I flushed under his stare. “You’re hot enough to score without digital help.”
“I don’t want to date.” My stomach fluttered. “And I don’t want to hook up with people from school. Occasionally, when I get an itch that needs scratching, I go on Tinder to meet people who aren’t from Castle Rock. No big deal. Can we sleep now?”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Drayton held up a hand and then pointed at me. “You, Dallas Bryan, you do booty calls because you want a no-strings-attached situation?”
“I swear if I have to mention double standards, I will pull out your tongue.”
“No, I’m not judging,” he assured me. “I’m wondering where you’ve been all my life.”
“Gross. No.”
I wondered if that sounded as halfhearted as it felt. Would I ever actually do it? No. Would I fantasize about it? Probably.
“Not that I want to”—he held his fingers up for air quotes—“‘scratch your itch,’ but why not? What’s wrong with me?”
“Aside from making me sound like a drug addict, pretending to assault me, and refusing to let me go home?”
“Yes,” he said.
“The first is that you were a total dick—one person with me and a totally different person at school. Bit of a put-off. The second is that we’d have to see each other every day and that makes things complicated. No matter how much people say that it won’t make things complicated, it does.”
I left out the fact that I planned on moving the following June and that I didn’t want to get close to anyone, hence why I kept my love life outside the town’s limits.
“I understand. But in my own defense, I’m the same person no matter who I’m with,” he said.
“No, you were an egotistical bastard at practice on Tuesday. Your entire demeanor changed. It’s hard to explain. It was gross.”
He tugged at the corner of his pillow. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was about.”
“You aren’t so bad, I guess.” I smiled. “I just don’t want to sleep with you.”
He grinned. “That’s not the impression that I got ten minutes ago.”
“I’m drunk,” I bit. He laughed and I settled down into the pillow. “Good night.”
“Good night, Cheer.”
In the morning, I discovered a number of things. First, Drayton slept like the dead: he didn’t snore and he didn’t move. At one point, I had to check if he was even breathing. Next, his bedroom was even more gorgeous in the morning. The green needles of the Douglas and White fir trees outside scratched at the window panes and it was like being in the thick of the forest. Last, I was embarrassed to recount the details of the previous night because I had been so wasted.
Bursts of conversation echoed through my mind, taunting me, growing more humiliating as each memory surfaced. The almost-kiss arrived, and I remembered how easily I’d almost given myself over to him. My hands flew over my face as I groaned quietly.
It was best to get home as soon as possible. If Nathan wasn’t back, he would be soon. Reaching for my cell on the side table, I winced at the time—almost eleven thirty. My brother would have to be home. I rolled out of the bed and circled it as I dashed for the bathroom. I shut the door and attempted to decide on the best course of action. Should I walk home? No, I should call a cab. My hair and makeup were a mess. Should I wear Drayton’s shirt or the dress? Had to be the dress. Leaving in his clothes would be worse than leaving in last night’s cloth
es. I mumbled obscenities to myself as I rubbed the black from under my eyes and pulled my hair into a topknot.
When I was as presentable as I was going to get, I pulled open the bathroom door and almost died of heart failure. Drayton was leaning against the doorframe wearing just a pair of sweatpants and a mischievous grin. His bedhead was fluffy and unkempt, and if I was being honest, gorgeous.
“Morning, Cheer.” He smiled. “I heard you talking to yourself. Cute.”
“Shut up.” I pushed past him. “Can you please give me a ride home? I was going to take a cab, but since you’re up?”
“Oh, I’m up all right.” I turned around and caught him staring at my legs over his shoulder.
“You are too smooth for your own good. You know, it’s totally wasted on me.”
“Settle down. Give me ten for a shower and I’ll drive you home, Cheer.”
He shut the door and a moment later the sound of water pattered from the bathroom. I spent the next ten or fifteen minutes with my thoughts going between admiration for the gorgeous property and imagining what it would be like to see Drayton in the shower. It was concerning and alarming, and I kind of couldn’t stop. What was wrong with me? I sent Gabby and Nathan texts as well, to check in. Nathan let me know that he was still out, and Gabby still hadn’t replied when I heard the shower switch off.
Drayton emerged in a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and wet, tousled hair that made me sort of breathless. “Good to go?”
“Yes.” I trailed along behind him as we left the bedroom, and I got a better view of the mind-blowing house. Outside of his bedroom was a living area with white suede sofas, a flat-screen TV, a kitchen space, a fireplace, and more tree-revealing windows. It was so open but so private. Among the shades of grey and white were splashes of pale blue in the decor and throw pillows. The top floor carried on around a bend but we didn’t follow it. We started down the staircase, and I found that the front foyer was even bigger than I remembered.
“I need a water, want one?” Drayton asked when we hit the ground floor. He held the banister and spun around, walking a few feet up the corridor to the left of the staircase, which opened into a kitchen.
The stone floor was shades of earth tones. The cabinets and cupboards were white wood, and the countertops were black marble. The large glass sliding doors and windows at the other end of the room opened onto a deck, and I could see a deep-blue pool surrounded with rocks, like a natural watering hole might look. Lounge chairs were lined up along the concrete surround. The entire theme of this house was modern but natural. It was breathtaking.
Not unexpectedly, the kitchen wasn’t empty, but it was the occupant who surprised me more than anything. Even with his back to us and the fogged memory of last night, I could tell that it was Drayton’s friend. He stood in front of the fridge, scratching the back of his head. His hair wasn’t as smooth and slick as it had been when we’d met.
“Hey, Josh.” Drayton was seemingly not surprised to find him scouring the fridge.
Josh kept his back to us but waved over his shoulder. “Hey, man.” His voice sounded tired. “I’m so hungry. All Mom buys is organic juice. Can you tell her to pick up some toaster waffles next time? Last night was wild. I need a shower.” He shoved something into his mouth, chewing as he shut the fridge door. “I got stank di—”
He turned around and spluttered on the food that he’d been chewing. “Oh God.”
“Hey.” I waved at him.
“Hey,” he replied, pounding his chest with a fist while he coughed. He gave Drayton an unimpressed glare. “Thanks for the warning!”
“You’re welcome, man.” Drayton laughed and slapped him on the back as he passed, then opened the fridge. “Tell us more about this stank dick.”
“Shut up,” he ordered with a clenched jaw before turning his attention on me. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. You had a good night?”
“I did.” He nodded, smiling. “How about you? What’d you think of Illusion? Would you go back?”
“I guess,” I replied. “I’d probably drink less and be more choosy about who I dance with. I think I might have danced with half of Cripple Creek.”
He laughed and pushed his hair back behind his ears. “Not me. Which is a shame. That’s a gorgeous dress.”
“Oh.” I grinned. “Thank you.”
“Hey, smelly dick,” Drayton shouted. “Go and take a shower. Come on, Dallas.”
In the car I took another long look at the house, just in case I never saw it again, and then turned to Drayton, who was leaning one elbow on his armrest. His other hand turned the wheel as he began down the twisting drive.
“Is he your brother?”
“Best friend. Met him when I moved here when I was thirteen. He lives with us. His parents moved to Canada six months ago and he was dating someone at the time. He didn’t want to leave, so my mom let him stay with us as long as his folks were good with it. They were.”
“He doesn’t go to our school?”
“He used to go to Rock Canyon, but he dropped out a couple of months ago and now he works for Mom as, like, an assistant or something. He finished up his GED through the mail.”
“What about the girlfriend?”
“She broke it off for some dude on the swim team at her school. It was rough for him, you know, the whole leaving-school thing.”
“Your parents are great for taking him in.”
“They’re not bad,” he said.
We pulled up in front of my house, and it wasn’t like it was run-down or even in a bad neighborhood, still, it paled in comparison to Drayton’s. We lived in the older part of town called the Meadows, where the land rolled and stretched. The homes sat close beside one another, and they all looked the same. We were lucky that we had the house—even if it was on the smaller side—it was our parents’ first house, and they’d died before the big upgrade they had planned on.
“Gabby?” I mumbled, seeing my best friend sitting on the doorstep with her head on her knees. Her hair was back in its natural, wild form and hid her face. “Can she not see us?”
“No, the windows are too dark.”
“Right.” I turned to Drayton. “Thanks for last night. For your unconventional methods of looking after me.”
“Anytime. Don’t forget to call me if you’re up for some no-strings-attached fun.”
I chuckled and opened the door of the Jeep. “Sure.”
“Cheer,” he called before I could close the door. “Sorry again.”
“It’s forgotten.”
I wandered up the drive, my shoes hanging from one hand, and stopped in front of Gabby, who still had her head on her knees.
“Rough night?” I teased. She peered up at me with a sarcastic glare and I gasped. On her right eye and across the bridge of her nose was a dark, swollen bruise. “Gabs, what the hell happened?”
After I ushered Gabby inside, sat her on the couch, and fetched her a glass of water and an ice pack, I dropped onto the couch beside her.
“Gabrielle?” I said. “What happened? Who did this?”
“Trust me, I deserved it.” She laughed but it was humorless as she held the ice pack on her face. “I feel so stupid.”
We were abruptly interrupted by Nathan, looking proud of himself as he strolled in tossing his keys up and down.
“Hello, girls,” he sang, swinging the door closed before his eyes rested on Gabby’s face. His expression morphed into fury, and before either of us could say anything, he stormed out of the room and up the corridor. Gabby and I exchanged confused looks at the sound of banging and thumping.
“Right.” Nathan reappeared with a baseball bat in his hand. “Whose skull am I breaking?”
“Nathan,” Gabby chuckled. “It was a girl. I don’t think you can break a girl’s skull with a baseball bat.”
“Hmmm.” He lowered the bat. “Does she have a car? I could smash a few windows.”
“As much as we both appreciate the heroism,” I told him, “Gabby hasn’t even told me what happened. Relax for a second.”
“Tim has a girlfriend,” she murmured. “I had no idea. She came back to his place this morning while we were sleeping.”
“Who’s Tim?” Nathan tapped his bat on the ground.
“This guy that I slept with last night,” she mumbled.
“Right . . . okay . . . well, I’m going to shower. You guys”—he waved the bat at us as he backed away—“can sort that out. Between you.”
“What’s that about?” Gabby asked when Nathan was gone.
“He thinks of you like a sister. He wants to hear about your sex life as much as he wants to hear about mine.”
“Speaking of your sex life,” she jostled on the sofa with excitement. “Who dropped you off this morning?”
“No way.” If I told her about spending the night with Drayton, she’d read far too much into it. “You need to explain what happened.”
“I did. Some bitch—okay, well, not bitch, she was his girlfriend—walked into Tim’s room this morning, found us in bed, went absolutely nuts, and then socked me right in the face. I’m not even mad about getting punched,” she huffed. “I’m upset because he had a girlfriend. He used me and I liked him. Remember I had that giant crush on him when he was tutoring me?”
“Gabs, you spent one night with him.”
I feel a little guilty for dismissing her feelings. But really, she hadn’t seen him in years; how could one drunken hookup result in anything genuine that quickly? This had always been Gabby’s problem—she threw herself at the first boy who made her feel special or wanted without getting to know him first, or taking things slow, and she ended up getting hurt.
“I know you probably think that it’s stupid,” she mumbled. “We seemed to hit it off and I thought the potential was there, you know?” Gabby didn’t wait for me to reply. “Of course, you don’t know.” She threw her hands up. “You’re not a romantic.”