by S. M. Shade
Hands land on my hips from behind, and I turn my head to see Evan grinning down at me. “Hey beautiful. Nice moves.”
His arms wrap around my waist when I step back into him. It’s time to summon my inner slutty dancer and it’s surprisingly easy. The beat of the music is low and pulsing, perfect. My eyes close, and I let my hands wander as his do the same while we move together.
When the song ends, he tips my chin back where I can look at him, and I can’t take my eyes off of his mouth until it finds mine. He tastes like whiskey, which isn’t great, but I don’t care. It’s been an amazing night, and I know how I want it to end.
“Come home with me tonight,” he whispers in my ear.
“Okay.”
My instant reply makes him chuckle. “I’ll get us a Rideshare. There’s usually a wait. Want another drink?”
“No, I’m good. I’m going to catch up with Owen and let him know.”
“You two aren’t exclusive, then?”
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s asking. It makes sense, I suppose, since he knows we came together and share a room. “Oh, no, we aren’t…it isn’t like that. We’re just friends and roommates for the summer.”
Evan blinks and shakes his head. “That’s not what he told me.”
“What? What did he say?”
“That you two are a couple. I asked him before we left today. He said you belong to him.” His grin widens. “I had a feeling he was full of shit.”
That asshole. Why would he do that? I’m pissed, but also confused. It doesn’t make sense. My teeth are gritted, but Evan still manages to hear me. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Great, I’ll go order us a Rideshare.”
After he excuses himself, I find Owen at one end of the bar. He’s talking to a few people I don’t know, and I’m a second away from pulling him from the group when a man stumbles behind me and almost falls down. He manages to stay on his feet, but slams into Owen’s shoulder as he rights himself. Once he finds his footing again, he glares at Owen. “What the fuck. You trying to get your ass kicked?”
Owen’s eyebrows climb his forehead, and he leans against the bar. “Not particularly. Is that a common thing in Florida? Guys just standing around hoping someone will kick their ass. I don’t want to kink shame, but that sounds like a mental condition.”
The man stares at Owen, and you can practically see the wheels spinning in his head. It’s doubtful that he comprehended half of that, but he knows the people around him laughed for some reason and that it was likely at his expense.
This could go bad. The guy may be drunk, but he towers over Owen, and probably outweighs him by fifty pounds. My eyes dart around, looking for one of the security guards or bouncers, hoping they’ll notice the situation.
Owen doesn’t seem the least perturbed, even when the man gets in his face. “What the fuck did you say, you little pussy?”
The smile on Owen’s face is wide as he steps back, putting a little space between them. “Hey, no need for name calling.” The man watches, bewildered, while Owen proceeds to kick off one of his shoes and then pulls off a sock. He holds the sock up like an offering. “Friends?”
The man’s whole face is a question mark for a good ten seconds as he stares at the sock dangling in front of his face. It has frogs printed on it. Then he lets out a roar of laughter that’s met with more from all the people watching this bizarre show.
“You’re crazy as hell, kid.”
“Man, you have no idea,” Owen says, grabbing the beer he hasn’t touched yet. He hands it to the guy and holds up his finger to the bartender for another. Once they have their beers, Owen leads him away toward a table, still talking. “Let me tell you about me. I was born at a young age and I was so shocked that I didn’t speak for a year.”
A bouncer is heading their way, but the guy no longer seems angry. Owen’s stunt worked to deescalate the situation. Sometimes, I’m not sure if he’s a genius or certifiable. They talk and laugh for a minute while I drain a bottle of water. Whew, I really did drink too much tonight. For a few moments I forgot I was waiting on Evan. And that I need to tear Owen a new one.
Evan waves from the front door, holding up his hand to say the Rideshare is ten minutes away, and I nod.
“Owen,” I call, pulling him aside.
“You ready to go?” he asks, flashing a toothy smile.
“Did you tell Evan I’m your girlfriend?”
The instant flash of guilt on his face answers for him. “I may have led him to believe…”
“That I belong to you?” I seethe. “What the fuck?”
His lips press together. “Look, Rem, I had a good reason.”
“Can’t wait to hear it.”
He falters, and I turn to walk away. Screw this. I have plans. I’ll figure out his problem tomorrow. “Remee…”
“I’m leaving with Evan.”
His brow dips, and his lips pull into a frown of disapproval. “What? You can’t leave with that asshole.”
His response infuriates me. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, and you obviously aren’t going to tell me, but you don’t control me.”
His hand clamps around my wrist when I start away again. “No, Remee. You don’t want to go with him.”
I’m confused at why he’s acting like this, but his insistence gives me pause. “What is it, Owen? I’m not a mind reader.”
“The guy is a total douche. And he’s older. He’s taking advantage.”
I jerk my wrist away. “Who I get with is none of your business.”
“I’m looking out for you. Come on, let’s just go. We can sober up on the beach while we wait on a ride.”
Just like that, he thinks I’m going to obey him? “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He grabs my wrist again as I start to walk away. His other hand runs through his hair. “Fuck, okay, look, I didn’t want to tell you, but I can’t let this happen.”
“Tell me what?”
“The guys at work, I hear them talk, and they were challenging each other.”
My chest tightens at his words, and I cross my arms. “What kind of challenge?”
“Which one of them can fuck you first. It pissed me off so I lied about us being together.”
My first instinct is denial, but the expression on Owen’s face won’t let me hide behind that.
“I’m sorry, Rem. I kept wanting to talk to you about it, but…”
“You didn’t want to break some ridiculous bro code?” I snap.
“No! Fuck those guys! I didn’t want you to get your feelings hurt or make things uncomfortable for you at work. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d go for it, but I should’ve warned you.”
I’m lashing out at the wrong person. Men are ridiculous. Owen slides his hand from my wrist to hold my hand, and this time I don’t resist when he leads me out into the night. Leaving Evan waiting for me out front, we exit a different way and walk down the beach while Owen calls for a ride.
“Remee.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not mad at you. Just myself.” Sighing, I attempt to change the subject. “What was that Dobby trick you pulled back there with the sock?”
He sits down in the sand, and I join him. “Just trying to set the douchebag free.”
“He could’ve pounded you into the ground.”
“Psh.” Owen flexes his bicep. “He knew better.”
“You’ve been around Marty too much,” I scoff.
“You’d be surprised how often making someone laugh solves a problem.”
It’s a beautiful night, and we fall silent. He keeps his hand in mine while we listen to the waves caress the sand and watch the stars shine until he gets the notification our ride is here. The silence remains until we get back to our room, and I climb into bed.
The world is still wavery from the drinks I consumed, and as hard as I try not to think about tonight, I can’t help it. It’s not like I was in love with the guy or anything, b
ut I hate to think I was making a fool of myself, playing into his hands. I only wanted to get laid. What’s so wrong with that?
Owen gazes at me from the chair when I turn over to face him. “You deserve better than that asshole.”
“I was looking for a bed buddy for the summer. Not anything serious. Guys are usually down for that type of thing. I don’t understand why respect can’t be a part of it. If we want the same thing, why am I a joke they have to turn into some stupid ‘who can fuck her first’ race?”
Alcohol and stupid emotions have the words spilling out of me, and I’m horrified to hear a crack in my voice. I will not cry. I’m not sure why I’m letting them get to me like this. Maybe because I’m not typically the girl to draw much attention. It was nice to feel desired, but I should’ve realized it was because I’m the only woman at work. Stupid male egos had to turn that into a game that had nothing to do with me as a person. It’s disappointing because Evan seemed so kind and interested in getting to know me. So did Adrian.
Owen lies down beside me on my bed. He rolls to his side, where we’re facing one another, and his soft gaze is comforting. “Rem, you aren’t a joke. You’re beautiful and smart and way out of those fuckboys’ league.”
He’s so sweet. Why aren’t more guys sweet like him? Compassion shows in the shadow darkened depths of his eyes. The curve of his lips draws my attention. I’ve never noticed how sexy they are. How kissable. Are they as soft as they look? Suddenly, it’s the most vital thing in the world for me to find out, and without a second of thought beforehand, I bring my mouth to his.
It’s barely more than a brush of our lips, a sweet second, and then the sensation of his breath on my face before he pulls away to whisper, “Rem.”
The reluctance in his voice jerks me back to reality. What am I doing? Haven’t I had enough humiliation for one day? “I’m sorry.” My face burns as I scramble to get off the bed, but his hand finds mine, wrapping around and holding tight.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not. If you only knew how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you.” He brushes a strand of hair off my cheek. “You’re drunk and upset. I can’t take advantage.”
Before I can reply, he pulls me into his arms and rests his chin on my head. “Let’s get some sleep. If you still want to kiss me in the morning, I’ll be at your disposal. All day, in fact. No, all weekend. Wait, let’s not put an expiration date on it. And clothes are optional, of course, but highly discouraged.”
Giggles spill out of me, and for once my overanalyzing mind doesn’t start laying out a list of how things could go wrong. The faint buzzing the alcohol sends over my skin combined with his warmth is so pleasant and comfortable.
This is perfect. Who cares about tomorrow?
Oh god, it’s tomorrow. Or today, whatever. The sun slicing through the gap in the curtains jars me awake and doesn’t help the headache pounding through my skull.
I kissed Owen. What the hell was I thinking?
He’s curled up next to me, his hand on my stomach, his face slack and peaceful. Okay, maybe I do know what I was thinking because he really is pretty. I have to bite back a laugh at the thought of how much he would hate that word used to describe him, and maybe it doesn’t fit, because he’s in no way feminine, but still it’s what comes to mind as I stare at him.
There’s a truth to face here. The alcohol wasn’t the reason I kissed him. It may have given me a bit more courage to act, but the urge was my own and it’s still there. I need to think. Thank goodness he’s a hard sleeper. He doesn’t stir when I move his hand off of me and climb out of bed. Even the squeak the closet door makes when I open it to grab some clothes doesn’t budge him.
My thoughts clamber over one another, and it’s hard to focus as each insists on being the most important. The guys at work are dicks. There’s no way around facing them again. Every day. For the rest of the summer.
The dread of that is shoved aside by the memory of soft lips on mine. Owen. It’s not like I haven’t ever thought of him that way, even before that stupid dream. In the beginning, I went out of my way to keep a certain distance because I knew that he’s exactly the type of guy I could fall for. Charismatic, funny, and everyone likes him. Once we settled into our friend roles, I sort of let my guard down.
He’s also the opposite of what I have to be. Serious about life and dedicated to my goals. He seems to glide through without giving things a second thought, like a child. His words float back to me as I step into the shower. “If you only knew how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you.”
They didn’t really register last night, in my fog of alcohol and disappointment, but I’m surprised by them today. Owen’s never given me the least sign that he’s attracted to me. He was drinking as well. Maybe he didn’t mean it and was only trying to be kind about me kissing him.
The disappointment that thought brings should worry me, but instead it raises the big question. What if he was serious? We’re stuck here, away from our friends, living on top of one another. Clearly, we both want to find someone to have sex with and it’s hard to bring anyone back when we share a room. Would it be a bad idea to sleep with each other? It’s just sex. Wouldn’t it be better to be with someone I know and trust?
It’s a moot question if he didn’t mean what he said, and I could drive myself crazy arguing over the what ifs and should I’s in my head. I’m going to be direct and ask him.
The debate continues in my mind while I finish showering and get dressed, but when I emerge from the bathroom to see Owen sitting at the table, shirtless, my vagina makes the decision.
“Hey.” He grins at me and shoves a cup across the table. “I brought you one of your sugary monstrosities to help your hangover.”
“You mean coffee?” The whipped cream topped cup of chocolatey iced coffee is barely in my hands before I take a long drink. Heaven.
“That isn’t coffee. It’s a milkshake.” He wiggles the cup in his hand. “This is coffee. Black. Puts hair on your chest.”
“You’d better drink up then,” I retort, sitting across from him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And you’ll be happy to know my solid masculinity isn’t threatened by your criticism of my lightly haired chest.”
“Good, I’m relieved.”
“As you should be.” An awkward silence falls between us, and I’m trying to find the words to break it, but he beats me to it. “We kissed. You were drunk. It doesn’t have to be weird. Okay?”
He’s giving me an out, to blame it on the alcohol. He said “you were drunk” not “we were drunk.” Does that mean he would’ve kissed me if he was sober? Ugh, I have to stop analyzing this and ovary up.
“Do you want to have sex with me?” Perfect, Remee. Blurt it out. Awesome job.
A sudden hurk sound is followed by coughing, and he grabs a napkin just as a drip of coffee falls out of his nose. That must burn, judging by the way his eyes are watering. Trying to choke to death wasn’t exactly the response I was hoping for, but once he gets the coughing under control, he stares at me, his mouth twitching. The few seconds before he answers are months long. “Is this a trick question or an invitation? Did you get into the vodka already?”
“No, I mean...” His gaze stays on me, and I take a deep breath. “Last night you said you wanted to kiss me. If it was just because you were drinking, I understand, but if not, I thought maybe we could…” My teeth scrape across my bottom lip. “Look, we’re going to be here a while and sex is a natural biological need we both have. I see no reason to deny ourselves when we could meet that need for each other. As long as we could keep it to that. Just sex between friends. A summer fling. But if you aren’t interested, it’s fine.”
His expression is hard to read. Disbelief mixed with amusement if I had to guess. Not reassuring. “Let me see if I understand. You’re asking me if I want to provide the service of orgasms to meet your biological needs?”
I’m screwing this up. “I’d do the same for you, of course.”
My face heats, though I can’t help but laugh. “I’m not saying that.”
“Fine.” He gets to his feet and starts pulling down his pants. “Just let me get a shower.”
“Not right this second!”
He points a finger at me. “You didn’t let me finish. Let me get a shower, and we’ll go enjoy this beautiful day we have off work. Then if you’re nice to me, I will provide orgasms.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“That’s no way to get into a guy’s pants, Rem. Work on that!” he calls, as he heads into the bathroom.
I must be crazy.
Chapter Seven
Owen
Holy fuck. Did that just happen?
Last night, when she kissed me, I assumed it was the alcohol. It took every scrap of self-control I’ve ever had not to strip her naked right then. What I expected this morning was for her to act like it never happened or brush it off, and we’d have a laugh over it.
The same way it went after she came in her sleep. I know she was dreaming about me—she said my name as she woke up—but I didn’t read much into it. I’ve had sex dreams about damn near every woman I’ve ever spent time around including plenty I wouldn’t touch in real life.
Remee asked me to fuck her.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around that after I’ve showered and dressed. It’s going to be a long day of trying to hide a constant hard-on until I get her back here tonight.
“Food and then the beach?” Remee suggests, putting her shoes on.
The words are scarcely out of her mouth when a clap of thunder shakes the room, and I open the door just as rain starts to pour.
God loves me and wants me to get laid.
There’s no wiping the grin from my face when I turn to face her. “So, about those orgasms…”