CHAPTER 10
Grace
Iwas cleaning up the auditorium, doing my job as a stage assistant, the evening my first phoenix feather finally peeked out of its ashes.
It was the day after my almost-kiss with West. Tess and Lauren were the last to leave, after staying late and rehearsing some of their scenes together. Lauren was still struggling to get all her lines right. She blamed it on a recent breakup with her boyfriend Mario. Tess had been working the angle of passive-aggressively coaxing her into convincing Professor McGraw to switch roles. She argued that Stella didn’t have as many lines and her role wasn’t as emotionally draining.
“Seriously, Lor, just tell Finlay and McGraw you’ve got too much on your plate. Switch to Stella. You’ll get an A+ and would only have to memorize half the lines.”
I tidied up around them, moving the mop around their feet. They both waved me goodbye, with Tess’ eyes lingering on me a moment too long, as if noticing my existence for the first time. I had no doubt it had everything to do with West snatching me from the auditorium the other day.
After I finished mopping, I rearranged all the props backstage, hanging the costumes on the racks.
Humming “No Me Queda Más” by Selena to myself (because: ’90s and Selena were double the win), my thoughts wandered to West. Specifically, to his relationship with his parents. He was angry, that was for sure. He’d been cagey about them, but from what I’d pieced together, they were struggling financially, and he was breaking his back trying to help them.
About to turn the lights off, I paused on the threshold between the stage and the backstage, peeking through the burgundy curtains. I loved the stage’s floor. It was my favorite. It was full of scratches and dents, from actors and dancers wearing it down over the years.
Beaten and broken, it was still capable of creating the greatest magic.
Without really meaning to, I found myself taking a step toward the center of the stage, swallowing hard.
“You need to open up.”
West’s words tickled the bottom of my belly.
Another step.
“Don’t roll over and play dead.”
The next one was my grandmother’s.
“If you’re not scared, you’re not being brave.”
Before I knew what was happening, my feet hurried across the stage.
Tap, tap, tap.
My heart accelerated, my mouth dried up, and my breath stuttered in my throat.
I stopped and stood there, in the middle of the stage.
Alone.
Brave.
Scared.
But undefeated.
I took off my pink ball cap, took a deep breath, and let out an earth-shattering scream that pierced through the walls and made the entire place shake. It lasted long seconds before subsiding, its last echoes still dancing in my lungs.
I smiled and bowed to the rows upon rows of empty red velvet seats.
I imagined the auditorium full of people. They were clapping and cheering for me, rising to their feet in a standing ovation.
I felt a little part of my phoenix peeking out of the ashes.
Not an entire wing, but one lonely perfect feather.
It was red. The color of my scar.
It reminded me of myself.
“There’s a fight this Friday. I thought maybe you changed your mind about coming.” Karlie was plopped on her bed next to me, her nose stuck in a textbook.
I scrunched my nose, hugging her pillow to my chest as I leaned against her headboard. “Why would I change my mind?”
“For one thing, rumors travel fast, and Tess has been telling everyone West freakin’ St. Claire whisked you away from the auditorium last week. People think you two are bumping uglies now. The one interesting thing to ever happen to us in, like, five years, and you forget to tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes, turning a page in her textbook and running a marker over an entire paragraph. “I’m five seconds away from dumping your ass, Shaw. You’re a bad best friend.”
I laughed, throwing the pillow in her face. “There’s nothing to tell. We’re just friends.”
“Riiiiiight. And denial is just a river in Egypt.”
“I’m not in denial.”
“Not even a teeny-tiny bit?” Karl dropped her textbook in her lap, pinching her fingers together, looking at me through the gap between them with an impish grin. There was no point telling her about a kiss that hadn’t happened and was promptly branded as a mistake by West before he backed out of it.
“I swear, it’s totally platonic. He is a commitment-phobe who loves variety. I’d be an idiot to fall for a guy like that.”
I am the idiot who is halfway there.
“You don’t choose who you fall in love with.”
“Maybe, but you do choose how to act on things,” I countered.
Karlie rearranged her limbs, sitting crisscrossed on her white duvet, leaning against her poster-filled wall. Pearl Jam and Third Eye Blind and Green Day. Her room was a nineties shrine, including a Discman on her nightstand, Beanie Babies on her bed, and an old-school see-through phone.
Karlie was born at the end of 1999. The last day of the year to be exact. December thirty-first, at eleven fifty-eight at night. That made her obsessed with the era, and whatever Karlie liked—I loved. It was the natural, courteous thing for me to do to join her obsession for moral support.
“Look, I’m studying how to become a reporter, and call it an investigative knack, but I ain’t buying what you’re selling, Shaw. The reality is you’re both single, and hot, and you spend a lot of time together.” She popped her watermelon gum in my face.
“He also spends a lot of time inside other girls, like Melanie and Tess,” I murmured.
“True, but I’ve never seen him hanging out with them one-on-one.” Karlie grabbed her textbook, placing it back in her lap and highlighting the bejesus out of it, her eyes glued to the page. “And it’s been a while since Tess. Just remember what I said, Shaw. He might be nice, but he’s trouble.”
“Actually …” I sat up straight, feeling bizarrely protective toward West. “He’s not trouble at all. He’s really nice. The other day, he noticed Marla went home before I had a chance to take a shower and watched over Grams for me for a few minutes.”
“That’s why I’m reopening the invitation to go to his fight on Friday.” She flipped another page in her textbook.
“Because he is nice to me?” I blinked, confused.
“No, because he is putting up a front. He is on his best behavior at the food truck because it’s a different environment, but he is still a beast.”
She rolled her eyes when I didn’t respond.
“Look, aren’t you curious to see if your friendship is just a food truck thing or goes beyond it?”
Curious? I was rabid to find out. My communication with West at school was nonexistent. He’d taken my request not to draw any attention for me extra far and didn’t even acknowledge me when we passed each other.
It was like I didn’t exist to him.
A part of me didn’t want to find out what we were outside of our bubble, but a bigger part of me realized I had to find out whether I was a convenient friend he kept in secret and was ashamed of or a person he considered his equal.
“Fine,” I bit out. “I’ll go to the fight.”
“Yes!” Karlie pumped her fist in the air. “That’s my girl. Now let’s get slutty clothes to distract him.”
“Wait, didn’t you say dating him is a terrible idea?”
“Dating? Yes. Teasing? No. It is high time you realize you’re hot shit, Shaw. And if West St. Claire is the guy to make you realize it, I’m all for it.”
I grabbed one of her pillows, pressing it over my face and yelling into it in a mix of horror and excitement.
“Quick. If you could bring one thing back from the nineties, what would it be—Blockbuster or hot Keanu Reeves?” Karlie tapped my knee.
I dumped the pillow on the floor, my eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets. “Excuse you! Keanu Reeves is still bangin’.”
Karlie threw her head back, laughing. “Ding, ding, ding. That was a test. And you just passed with flying colors.”
I stared at myself in the mirror, unable to stop myself from grinning like a loon.
Ten tons of foundation?—check.
Catlike eyeliner?—check.
Blow-dried hair?—check.
Sparkly pink lip gloss and a matching ball cap?—check.
Tiny, long-sleeved, black mini dress that showed off my legs?—triple check.
Karlie’s honks blasted through my bedroom window, signaling her arrival. I bolted downstairs, my heart flipping desperately like wings. Grams was sitting in the living room, knitting and listening to a Johnny Cash record. She was having a good day, thank the Lord, but I still asked our neighbor, Harold, to check in on her a few times tonight.
“Church’s out, Grams!” I hollered as I picked up my small clutch. I was dressed for a fancy club or a restaurant, not a fighting ring, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the first night I’d gone out since I’d given up on having a social life, and it was a big deal for me.
Grandma waved her hand up in the air without lifting her eyes from her knitting.
“You be careful, Gracie-Mae. And if you drink, please give me a call. I’ll pick you up.”
I stopped dead in front of the door. She spoke like the old Grams. The coherent one. My throat burned with tears.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “Karlie’s the designated driver. She’ll have a dry night, and so will I.”
“Contreras blood runs true. Karlie took after her momma. She’s a real good kid.” Grams nodded approvingly, taking a sip of her tea.
Why couldn’t she be like this all the time?
Karlie honked again, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“All right! I’m off!”
“Ta-ta. Oh, and Gracie-Mae?”
“Yeah?” I paused, halfway out the door.
“Come back home when the first streetlamp goes on. Curfew’s at six-thirty, young lady.”
It was already nine. My smile collapsed, and the dull ache in my chest resumed.
Not completely lucid after all.
“I’ll be sure to do that, Grams.”
We got to Sheridan Plaza ten minutes late and spent fifteen minutes driving around looking for a parking space. Karlie had to drive extra slow because there were clusters of people marching toward the Plaza, laughing, drinking, and making out. I hadn’t realized the fighting ring was that big an event in Sheridan. Friday Night Lights had nothing on this thing.
I knew West wasn’t the only guy who fought—there were about five fights every Friday—but he was always the main event and the reason tickets sold like hotcakes.
On our fourth round trying to find a parking space, a senior jock signaled Karlie to roll her window down. She did.
“Y’all gonna run outta gas if you keep circling the lot. Park wherever you can; they don’t give out tickets around here, doll.”
Karlie flashed me a disapproving glance.
“I didn’t know your boy was that popular.”
“Stop callin’ him my boy,” I half-asked, half-begged. I couldn’t allow myself to believe it.
“You’re right. If you date him, I will punch your tit. Your heart’s too good for this guy, Shaw.”
We parked and stabbed the dunes with our high heels, ascending toward the Plaza. We paid at the entrance—twenty bucks a pop, by no means a cheap night out—and proceeded inside.
There were dozens of people crammed into the second floor. College age crowd, but also a few randoms who were clearly in high school or way past twenty-five. Everybody was holding red Solo cops, chatting and laughing as two shirtless guys fought in the ring. They were clearly just the warm-up act, because nobody paid much attention.
There was no sign of West or his friends.
“I’ll beer us.” Karlie tilted her head toward a dude who stood behind a few crates, pouring keg beer into cups.
I nodded. “I’ll go find West, wish him good luck.”
“No canoodling.” She waved a finger my way.
I saluted her before wandering about, scanning for his face. Realizing he was nowhere near the ring, I strolled toward the small bare rooms with the mattresses. At first, I peeked into each of them, trying to spot West. But after encountering a guy jerking off, half-dressed, as two cheerleaders licked each other, I passed them swiftly, not looking sideways.
Groans and moans rose from the mattresses in the coves. I hated this place. Absolutely despised it. And with every single second that ticked by, the possibility I was going to find West with someone else became more and more real. I wanted to be sick. Why had I thought it was a good idea to come here?
He warned you not to. Called it a cum dumpster. You are not even welcome here.
I was about to turn around and run for my life when his gruff voice came from behind one of the concrete walls.
“You need to give it a rest,” West growled.
“Question is, do you give Tess a rest?” another voice—Easton, I assumed by his neutral, sensible tone, countered. “You know, between rounds.”
There was a burst of male laughter and the sound of beer cans cracking open.
“Don’t tell me you’re still tapping her ass?”
That was definitely Reign De La Salle speaking. My stomach churned and twisted. The guy was a total tool.
“Relax, asshole. You know I never tap it twice. Although, I’m not opposed to fucking her every which way if you continue getting on my nerves.”
“Is that a threat?” Reign screeched.
“Nah, it’s a promise.”
“You don’t make any promises,” Easton pointed out. That much was true.
“For an ass like Tess’, I’m willing to make an exception.”
I stumbled backwards before I heaved and threw up. A sharp stab of jealousy cut me open. I bled out so many dark feelings, my head was spinning.
Wariness. Distrust. Heartbreak.
Lord, why did it feel like my heart had been blown to the sky? He hadn’t even kissed me, and I was already scarily possessive toward him.
Dashing back toward the ring, I glanced behind my shoulder to make sure they didn’t see me.
“Shaw! There you are!” Karlie jumped into my vision, holding two Solo cups in her hands. She pushed one into my palm.
“I made sure the guy opened a brand-new beer and poured it in front of me, so it’s not spiked or watered down. Well? Did you find lover boy?”
“I did,” I hissed. “And without gettin’ into detail, lover boy loves having sex with Tess, so I guess now we know where I stand.”
She gasped, a glint of curiosity lighting up her eyes. “You caught them together?”
“No, I overheard him declaring his intentions toward her.”
“Told you he was bad news.”
“You also told me to come here.” I sighed.
“True.” She shrugged. “We’ve never done this before, and I really wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
I shouldered my way to the first row of viewers as Karlie trailed behind me, changing the topic to her workload at school. I tried to tell myself that it was better that way. West wasn’t mine. His body belonged to everyone else, and his heart was unreachable to anyone on the planet, himself included.
The fight in front of us came to an end.
Then the drumrolls came.
Max Riviera stepped onto an actual soap box and cupped the sides of his mouth.
“And now, ladies and gents, to our main event. Knox Mason against the one and only. The man, the legend, the panty dropper who gives King David a run for his money”—he allowed a comical pause in which people snickered—“WEST. ST. CLAIRE!”
People pumped their fists in the air as both men entered the ring. West’s shoulder brushed mine, the familiar scent of winter and male trickling into my nostrils, but he didn’t notice me. I clutched my Solo cup to my heart.
Karlie elbowed me. “Well, if nothing else, it’ll be fun seeing him getting bitch-slapped a time or two.”
“West’s goin’ to annihilate the poor guy.”
But I was wrong.
West didn’t annihilate Knox.
He dang near killed him.
Every time Knox tried to throw a punch, West dodged it and countered with something to knock his opponent out for five to eight seconds. A kick. A jab. Sometimes he grabbed the dude—and there was a lot of that dude—and threw him on the mat WWE style, for funsies.
Fighting wasn’t a sport to West. It wasn’t even a hobby. It was akin to him changing his sheets or brushing his teeth. Just another mundane act that didn’t require any special effort. His body language was bored, languid. At some point, when Knox was on the mat folded into himself, holding his stomach and shaking in pain, West turned around and strolled in my direction. His eyes skimmed over the audience like he was looking for something—probably his fling for the night—and halted on me.
Everything stopped.
The room went quiet.
Or maybe it didn’t, but I certainly blocked all the background noise as his eyes widened, first in shock—and then in anger. His brows drew together. Every muscle in his body tightened.
Nowhe was looking like he was ready for a fight.
“What the fuck are you doin—” He began with a low, gravelly hiss so dark and depraved it sent chills down my spine, but he never got to finish the sentence. Knox took the opportunity and threw a hook to the back of West’s head. It snapped sideways from the impact, and blood began to trickle out of his mouth. I yelped. West swiveled on his heel, and with a swift kick to the liver, followed by a sucker punch to the side of his face, sent Knox across the ring. The fighter hit a few crates, rolling around several times before falling headfirst onto the mat, undoubtedly knocked out.
The crowd burst with cheers and whistles as Max ran toward Knox and crouched down, counting to ten.
West didn’t bother staying in the ring to be announced as the winner. He charged toward me like a bat outta hell. I stumbled back, bumping into people as I tried to retreat. A tanked guy behind me burped, shoving me into West’s arms carelessly.
“Dang, St. Claire’s horny tonight. Usually he waits until he splits the cash with Riviera.”
“Whoa,” Karlie whispered, her eyes growing impossibly large.
I was now tucked firmly in West’s arms, courtesy of the drunk guy. West shoved me back with open disgust, looking at me like I’d committed the worst crime on planet Earth.
“Who let her in?” He let out a roar that ripped through the air and made everybody take a collective step back.
Gingerly, the guy who’d sold us the tickets took a step forward, lifting his arm. “I … I did, bro. I recognized them from Sher U?”
West’s eyes were still on me when he spoke. “You’re fired.”
“But I …”
“Fired,” West repeated with icy venom.
My eyes burned with humiliation, and my entire face was so hot I felt dizzy with anger. “You promised not to draw attention to me,” I gritted between my teeth, barely a whisper.
West threw me an impersonal glance, tsking. “I don’t promise. I told you not to come here. The moment you stepped foot in my realm—you fucking asked for attention, and now you’re going to get the wrong kind of it.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re un-fucking-welcome.”
“Too bad you don’t own this place.” I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and hating the eyes on me. “I’m staying. In fact, I’m going to go top off my drink. So if you’ll excuse me …”
Metaphorically picking up the scraps of my pride, I turned around and began marching to the other side of the floor, knowing Karlie would follow.
Guess I’d gotten my answer. West and I weren’t friends. Not even close.
The crowd parted for me, mesmerized glares following my movements, when I was snatched and lifted in the air from behind.
“You big pain in the ass.”
West scooped me up, fireman-style, hurling me against his shoulder as he dashed up the stairs to the third floor. “Management” as he called it.
“Where are you taking her?” someone in the crowd yelled, laughing.
“Giving her a good spanking, then hurling her out the window.”
Rage pulsated in my bloodstream. Not only was he screwing other people on a weekly basis, but he thought he owned me in some way. Picking me up, ordering me around, making me feel like a reject publicly.
I rained fists on his back and shoulders.
“Let go of me, you asshole.”
He ignored me, climbing up the stairs. It scared me, just how light I was to him. He breezed up, like I was nothing more than a six-pack of beer.
I heard Karlie crying out my name and saw Reign and Easton blocking her way up with polite smiles. It looked way rape-ier than it actually was, and, knowing West and I weren’t going to do much more than fight, I felt inclined to give my best friend a secretive thumbs-up, indicating that I wasn’t going to die in his hands.
“Karlie will call the police,” I said anyway, pulling at his hair now. Lord. I was behaving like a wild animal. At the same time, I didn’t want to be alone with him. I knew I’d yield to temptation. Take whatever he’d offer me.
“Shut up,” he snapped.
“Not until you let me down.”
“No thanks. Enough people have done that in your life.”
“Who the hell are you to judge?”
“The only person to notice your existence.”
“I don’t want you to!”
“You don’t have a fucking choice in the matter, and, unfortunately, neither do I.”
He put me down with my back flat against the wall. He popped what looked like his dislocated elbow back into place with expertise, the sound of bone clicking back into place filling the air. I winced. He acted like it was no big deal.
“There are two ways for you to get out of here. Through the stairs or the window. They depend on how you’re going to cooperate in the next few minutes. So I suggest you answer my questions and keep your sassy comments to someone who appreciates them. Question one—what the hell are you doing here, Tex?”
He bared his teeth like a beast.
I folded my arms over my chest, trying to hide my raw nerves with a smirk. “Enjoyin’ the fight. Pickin’ up a hookup, if I find someone interesting. Why? What do you care? We are nothing to each other.”
“Wrong.” He got in my face. I had a feeling even he had no idea why, exactly, he was so furious with me. “We’re not nothing. You’re my friend, and I told you I don’t want you anywhere near this garbage place.”
“This garbage place is yours.”
“I am garbage. You’re not. We don’t play by the same rules.”
I threw my head back and laughed, hurling my arms in the air for good measure. “You don’t get to dictate the rules for me. My life is my business, not yours. I wanted to be here. And guess what?” I felt vindictive and completely out of control. Adrenaline was pumping in my veins, hard. All I wanted in that moment was to hurt him in the same way he’d hurt me. Beyond repair. Rip his heart out of his chest and watch it bleed in my fist. “I might go and find a hookup tonight. I think it is high time. There are so many people to choose from here. I get why you like it at the Plaza.” I whistled, making a show of looking around me. “It’s a great place to get laid.”
His jaw tensed, his brows pulling together as his eyes narrowed at me.
“If you think you’re going to come into my club and get fucked by anyone who is not me, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“Why not? You do it all the time. Whatever happened to your feminist streak?”
“I don’t pick up chicks here.”
“Of course you don’t.” I smiled.
He ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh. “Not recently.”
“Define recently, West.”
“Keeping tabs?”
“People talk. So, Melanie wasn’t recent?” I couldn’t help myself, even though I hated how pathetic I sounded.
His lips thinned. “Melanie was before my dick and I had the awkward conversation in which it told me it was dead-set on you.”
“What about Tess?”
“What about her?” He looked momentarily confused.
“Was she before or after you and your dick sat down for the big talk? You said you weren’t opposed to havin’ sex with her again tonight.”
Lord. I was admitting to eavesdropping on him. West’s face hadn’t changed. It was still a stony mask of brutality. He was trying hard not to snap.
“You … you idiot.” He closed his eyes, exasperated, rubbing at his forehead. “I wanted to rile Reign up. He’s got the hots for her, and I’m still pissed about the way he treated you.”
“No. You’re the idiot,” I screamed in his face, not caring if people heard us. I stabbed his chest with my finger. “You are mad at me and you don’t even know why. At least I know why I hate your guts. You keep givin’ me mixed signals. Kissin’ me, but not goin’ all the way. Why is that, West? Is this Grace-is-pretty thing just an act? To help my self-esteem?” I chuckled bitterly, but there were tears coating my eyes. I could feel them.
Now it was his turn to bark out a dark laugh.
“You think I care about your self-esteem? Gimme a break, Tex. You’re not that important to me.”
I didn’t even bother to be offended, because I knew whatever came out of his mouth was a lie. Everything we felt toward one another—good and bad—spun together into something that was bigger than us.
He took a step back, giving me a silent once-over. I knew I looked the best I ever had since he’d met me, but his expression didn’t give anything away.
“What do you want to hear? That I have dreams of lowering your pretty blonde head down inside the food truck, unzipping myself, and making you deep-throat me until you choke on it? Would it help if I admitted that I want nothing more than fucking you six ways from Sunday? That I would devour your ass in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for the fact we’re both majorly fucked-up—sorry, Tex, it’s the truth—and I’m getting out of this shithole as soon as I get my BA, and I don’t do serious relationships? Because you seem to know all that. You know why I didn’t kiss you.
“Tess, Mel, those chicks … they know the score. I don’t know them. I don’t care about them. The aftermath, once my dick is out of their holes, is none of my business. I can’t kiss you, Grace.” He shook his head sadly, taking another step back. “I can barely even fucking look at you.”
I was losing him. I knew that. And for the first time in a long time, I wanted to fight. The phoenix in me pushed through the sand, struggling under its weight, revealing more of its magnificent feathers. I rubbed at the broken flame ring on my finger, tipped my chin up, and gave the most seductive smile in my arsenal.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
His jaw locked, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow.
“I’m not scared,” he said drily. But I knew him well enough to feel the undercurrent of anger rising up to the surface, dimming his green eyes.
“Sure you aren’t.” I picked up my little clutch that had fallen from my hand while we were fighting, hoisting it over my shoulder, preparing to leave. “And I get what you are sayin’. It really is a bad idea to get involved. But that doesn’t mean I’m goin’ to be a saint. Too chicken shit to start somethin’ with me? No problem. I’ll go downstairs and find me a nice Southern boy lookin’ for commitment. One who won’t get scared when things get serious. One who would be happy to make the promises you are so frightened of. A guy who …”
He pounced on me like a panther, causing my back to smash against the wall. I let out a cry, but he shut me up with his lips as his mouth crashed on mine with punishing force. He grabbed the pink ball cap he’d bought me and tossed it to the floor. I shook my head in protest, but he held me still, his strong fingers clasping my jaw in a bruising grip.
“How about you let me take a nice good look at you, Texas? You talk a big game, but when it’s time to show up, you’re too wishy-washy for my taste. Want a dirty hookup with the town’s favorite fuckup? You got your wish. Now open up.” It was a cruel demand, not a request.
I pressed my lips together, looking up at him under my lashes, waiting for his next move. I felt naked without my cap, and I hated that he watched me so intently, devouring me with his eyes.
I kept reminding myself I had a lot of makeup on, and that it was very dark. He couldn’t see much. I shook inside his arms like a leaf but met his stare.
“Having a change of heart?” I tried to taunt, my tone fragile, torn apart.
He smirked sinisterly, looking like Satan himself. “I’m not like you, Texas. Once I make up my mind, it’s a done deal.”
He darted his tongue out, tracing the seam of my lower lip ever so slowly. His hot, wet tongue felt like crushed velvet, leaving shivers in its wake. My whole body quaked, every inch of my skin turning into goose bumps that started spreading on the crown of my head, trickling to the tips of my toes. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire.
I was on fire.
And this time, I wanted to perish in his arms.
“Who is chicken shit now?” he whispered into my mouth, teasingly coaxing it open with his expert tongue. I slammed my eyelids shut. His mouth was too much. Too warm. Too inviting. Too perfect. The smell of him—apple candy and sweat and alpha male—made me press my thighs together. I felt a damp spot of need settling on my panties. I was so wet I wanted to cry.
“You’re going to break for me, like you always do, so you might as well do it with some of your pride intact,” he rasped into my lips. “Because once I decide to kiss you, nothing is going to stop me. Least of all your ass.”
The nerve of this guy.
My lips were still locked together. I let my eyes flutter open, my blues challenging his greens.
He laced his fingers through mine beside our bodies, his thumb rubbing my flame ring knowingly. He brought the ring to his lips and whispered into it, his eyes still on mine.
“I wish Gracie-Mae would let me kiss her silly.”
He noticed.
Noticed I whispered wishes into the ring. Noticed the little broken flame jewelry was my own candy apple.
I wondered what he thought happened to my face. It shocked me that he hadn’t asked once since we became close.
“Now, if you don’t open up and let me kiss the shit out of you in the next three seconds, Tex, I’m going to never try again. As I said, I never turn back on my word. Three. Two. O—”
I opened up for him.
His tongue found mine immediately, stroking it greedily. It was my first kiss since Tucker. This kiss tasted like beer and Granny Smith and West. And West, I realized to my horror, tasted like home.
I knew, with a clarity that made my gut coil into itself a thousand times over, that nothing and no one would taste like him.
He pushed his chest against mine, and we both groaned, surprised by the force of the kiss. West propped his knee between my legs, shamefully grinding his hard-on over my stomach. He was throbbing, jerking behind his jeans.
It was a molten, passionate kiss. Something I’d never experienced before. A mixture of wild and raw.
I couldn’t tell exactly when our lips disconnected from one another, but his hands were still on my cheeks after it happened. He brushed his nose against mine, up and down, in a way I found impossibly soothing. I tried to take in a ragged breath, but I found that my chest was so tight with emotions, it was hard to draw oxygen into my lungs.
“We’re playing with fire,” he croaked.
I nodded, my eyes dropping from his gaze to his mouth. I wanted more. I didn’t feel ugly in his arms, even when his hand touched my scar.
“I’ve walked through fire before, so I know what I’m getting into.” My voice shook around my words, but each of them tasted like redemption and change. Like rebirth. “I’m willing to pay the price.”
He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, like it pained him to hear this. “I should walk away,” he said, mostly to himself.
“I’m not too proud to follow,” I admitted.
“If we go this route, it has to be casual, Texas. It has to. I can’t do promises. Or relationships. I’m as far from boyfriend material as humanly possible.”
“You don’t know that,” I argued.
He smiled sadly at me. “Trust me, baby, I do.”
Something in his eyes told me that he had a good reason to make that statement. I grabbed his hand and turned it over so his inner bicep was to me.
“Who is A?”
I was already jealous of her. I wanted to be A. I wanted his undying devotion and heartbreak. I wanted to have the power to ignite the celestial turmoil she’d put him through.
He took a step back, putting space between us.
“She’s the one, isn’t she?”
He looked away, down to the floor. “No promises,” he warned steely. It felt like he’d severed my veins and was watching me bleeding out. “It’s casual or nothing.”
I picked up my ball cap, slipping it over my head. I hoisted my clutch over my shoulder again. “I need to think about it,” I said honestly, starting for the stairs.
He grabbed my wrist, stopping me. “Think about it tomorrow. Be with me tonight. Please.”
I glared at him.
He growled, shaking his head, exasperated with both of us.
“Look, I promi—” He stopped himself, clearing his throat. “I give you my word I’ll keep the cobwebs on your pussy intact. But you’re all dressed up, fucking smoking, and it’s probably the first night out you’ve had in a long time. Let’s get a little dirty.”
I looked at his tan fingers curled around my wrist. Big, but gentle. I couldn’t refuse him. I couldn’t refuse him if the world went up in flames—which, for me, it had.
I had no excuse for what I said next.
I knew I was reaching for the poison, taking a generous sip.
“I’ll give you tonight,” I said quietly, knowing he’d already taken much more than we both had bargained for.
We raced downstairs to the second floor. Other than our friends, everyone else had left.
Karlie was chatting up a cute frat boy with sandy hair and Nordic features named Miles by the beer station. Reign was flirting with Tess in the corner, even though her eyes darted past his shoulder, our way, as soon as we came into view.
Max was perched on his soap box, counting money, and Easton was messing around on his phone.
West went directly to Max while I tugged at Karlie’s dress, telling her I was going to split and hang out with West.
The smile Miles had put on Karlie’s face evaporated in supersonic record. “Whatever happened to just friends?” She frowned. “I was worried sick about you. I kept wondering if I imagined your thumbs-up or not.”
I shifted weight between my legs. “You didn’t imagine it. And I promise, it’s just casual, so …”
“You don’t do casual.”
“I can do casual. I’m not allergic to it. I just haven’t tried it before,” I argued.
“And what better person to do it with than the most infamous, popular man on campus, who happens to break noses for a living? I see no potential complications at all.” She gave me a skeptical look that was supposed to bring me back to my senses.
Clearly, I did a good job hiding how far gone I was for this guy.
“Karl, please.” I pulled her into a hug, trying to melt her reservations away. “It’s just fooling around. No feelings involved. Weren’t you the one who told me the ends justify the means?”
“I take it lover boy is no longer all about Tess,” she grumbled, patting my back without much enthusiasm but starting to come to terms with the idea. God bless Mrs. Contreras for creating this supreme human being. I didn’t think I could survive a second without Karlie in my life.
“We cleared that up.”
“Ah-ha. Is that what you kids call it these days?” She pulled away from me, giving me a stern, motherly once-over.
I laughed.
“I’m half-worried, half-morbidly curious. You better call me with all the details.”
I felt myself blushing.
West reappeared by my side, looking cold and apathetic. “Ready, Grace?” He tucked a thick stack of cash into his front pocket.
Grace. Not Texas or Tex. I nodded.
West jerked his chin toward Karlie, Miles, Reign, Tess, and Easton in goodbye.
“Where’re y’all headed to?” Tess called out, sticking her hip out.
“Giving Grace a ride home,” West flat-out lied.
“Wanna hang out afterwards?” Tess smiled brightly.
“I’m good.”
We crossed the road to the food truck silently. There was an unspoken agreement upon where we were going. It just felt right. That Taco Truck was our safe haven.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open, sneaking in first. West locked the door, leaning against it, his hands tucked behind his back, flashing me a rakish smirk.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” I propped myself against the opposite wall of the trailer, smiling back. “And to think your famous first words were you were never going to touch me.”
“Well, Tex, I’m not sure I will be touching you,” he teased. “But you’re still going to come so hard you won’t be able to walk straight tomorrow.”
I slid down the wall. He slid down the door. We were facing each other, on opposite sides of the truck. Maybe not touching each other was a good idea. I was already in too deep.
“Nice panties,” he commented, his hungry gaze dipping teasingly between my legs. I flipped him the bird. My legs were pressed together, and I was hugging my knees.
“Nice try. You can’t see my panties.”
“Black cotton. A little white pearl at the center. Interesting symbolism.” He licked his lips, his eyes trained between my legs. I gasped, prying my knees open and leaning forward to check. I did remember wearing black panties, but not the pearl …
“Hey …” I felt myself frowning.
West burst out laughing. His throaty voice reverberated in the trailer, in my head, in my chest. “Figured you’d coordinate.”
“You owe me a peep show.” I looked back up at him, pushing my lower lip into a pout. My heart was pounding like a maniac.
“Your wish is my command.” He unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes trained on mine. He wanted to see if I would freak out. If I would kick him out of the truck. I did neither.
He shoved his jeans down his butt, but only enough that his gray briefs peeked out. I could see he was fully erect under the waistband. His penis was so thick, I could make out the individual veins snaking through its length.
He stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear.
“Your turn,” his voice was strained. “Trail your pussy lips with your finger for me, Tex.”
I momentarily stepped out of my anxiety, solely focused on the way his hands stroked his manhood. He had great hands. Large and rough.
Running my index over the seam of my sex through my panties, I panted. I dropped my head against the wall, letting it loll back and forth.
“Push a finger into yourself through the fabric,” he instructed, watching me intently. There was something potently hot in watching West watching me doing this to myself. I did as he asked. He grumbled, closing his eyes, now pulling and yanking at himself through his briefs.
“Take it out,” I said.
There was a pause.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
He let his penis spring free from his boxers. It looked like a giant, raging leech pressing against his stomach. I’d forgotten what penises looked like. Not that I’d seen more than one in real life.
“Pull your panties to the side so I can see your pretty pussy.” He tugged at his own length harshly. I liked the way he said the word pussy. It sounded just dirty enough without being degrading somehow.
I bit my lip. “I’m not … camera-ready down there.”
He chuckled. “A little on the wild side, cowgirl?”
Lord.
“I wasn’t expectin’ a photo shoot.”
Why was I encouraging this metaphor to continue? His laughter danced inside my stomach, but his mirth didn’t stop him from growing even more swollen and hard inside his palm. His penis was way bigger than Tucker’s. Tess and co should be given some sort of a prize for accommodating it. Or maybe medical care. Possibly both.
“Hundred bucks says it’s gorgeous,” he murmured.
“How would you know?” My mouth practically hung open.
“It’s attached to you.”
“Genitals aren’t often described as gorgeous.”
“Your dirty talk game is weak, Tex. Less talking, more showing me your snatch.”
I nudged my panties aside, knowing full well what he was seeing wasn’t a porn-worthy vagina. There was a plume of fine, baby-blond hair covering my opening. It was trimmed, but not completely removed. I opened myself with my fingers, exposing my pink insides.
“Oh, fuck.” He closed his eyes, pumping harder before focusing on me again. “Rub your clit for me, baby.”
I didn’t have to be asked twice. Especially as it looked like he was liking what he was seeing. A lot. I flicked my clit in circles, watching a pearl of pre-cum gracing the crown of his penis. My tongue swiped my lower lip. Why was this the hottest thing I’d ever done with a guy, even though I’d gone all the way with Tucker?
Because you never wanted Tucker half as much you want West.
“Texas.” His voice was hoarse. Like he could barely contain all this. I knew exactly what he was feeling. My orgasm crept in on me like a giant wave rolling ashore.
“Hmm?”
“Can I scoot closer?”
“Yeah.”
He dragged his butt across the floor. We were now rubbing ourselves, his penis directed at me, our hands and arms brushing together with each shallow stroke, our knees bumping into one another. It was so dirty and fun. It was everything I should’ve been doing during my college years and missed out on.
West swiped his thumb over his pre-cum and used it to lubricate himself as he went even faster. His forehead dropped to mine. We were closer than ever before, and now my hand bumped into his penis every time I rubbed myself.
“Coming.” His lips moved over mine. The pleasure taking ahold of my body made me delirious. I shook all over.
“Me too.”
I watched as hot spurts of white cum shot from his penis, just when every muscle in my body tightened. We came together, but kept on rubbing, tugging, and moaning.
A full minute after, we still had our foreheads pressed together. Our lips on one another. Our arms hung on the floor like they’d fallen from our bodies. We grinned into each other’s mouths. Everything around us was sticky and damp and smelled of sex.
“That was …” I drew in a breath. “So far away from hygienic. Way worse than you working shirtless. If health and safety dropped by, they’d kick our asses.”
He toppled backwards, laughing his butt off.
“If Mrs. Contreras was here, she’d hang us in town square,” he agreed.
“We don’t have a town square,” I pointed out.
“She’d have made one.” He leaned back toward me. “Whatever, I had a good run.”
“Short one.”
“Not too short for me.” His eyes glittered.
I slid my gaze down, reached for his half-mast shaft, and swiped a finger over the crown. He shuddered and hissed at my touch. I stuck out my tongue, touched my cum-filled finger to it, giving it a thorough lick.
“Hmm.” I closed my eyes, covering my whole finger with my mouth.
He groaned, yanking me into his embrace. We hugged, my head tucked under his chin. He drew circles over my back with the tips of his fingers.
I had no idea what we were at this moment, but it was definitely more than friends. There was intimacy there, no matter how much he tried to deny it. But pushing him to do something he clearly wasn’t interested in wasn’t fair for him or me.
“Promise me you won’t regret this tomorrow morning,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes, feeling a fat, warm tear sliding out of my right eye.
“No promises.”