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Shit happens. I never really understood that saying. Yeah, there were certain situations in life that were shitty, but they were just that; they were life. So it really wasn’t the shit in life that was, well, so shitty. It was life itself. Life happens. That was much more appropriate. Unfortunately, many of us found that out earlier than some. We found out just how awful life could really be. We found out that monsters were, indeed, real. They walked among us. They looked just like you and me. They came in the form of the people that we loved and trusted the most. The people whose only job was to love and protect us. Funny thing about life is that it never turns out the way you want it to. It’s never fair. It’s harsh and brutal. It kicks you when you’re down. It makes you wish you could give up and part with it just to have a semblance of peace. I almost felt that peace unintentionally. And if I had known exactly what I was fighting against, I would have succumbed to it. I would have traded my young, shitty life for the peace that came with death. I should have. I would have been free.
I needed a drink. A strong one. One that could possibly knock me on my ass and make me forget what I had done just 20 minutes ago. This was always the hard part. The guilt, the self-loathing. Sometimes it strangled me. I hated what I did. I hated the pain I inflicted but it was part of the process, part of what came with being me. I hurt people, and it wasn’t something I was proud of. Pulling into the parking lot of the first bar I spotted after leaving the scene of the crime, I punched in a number on my cell phone, speed-dialing Angel. “It’s done,” I announced, not even bothering with a cordial greeting. Those were reserved for days when I didn’t feel like locking myself away from everyone and everything. For days when I didn’t feel myself breaking into a million pieces. Angel sighed on the other end, feeling my pain through the receiver. “You okay, baby?” “Yeah. I will be. Down to get shit-faced?” I chuckled though I truly couldn’t find the humor in my own request. “I’m always down. Where are you?” After giving Angel the address, I fixed my smeared mascara in the visor mirror. I could have just stopped at a liquor store and gone home to drown my troubles, but I needed an excuse to hold it together. A distraction. In public, I’d have no choice but to plaster on a phony smile and ignore the immense guilt I felt. I’d be forced to pretend. 10…9...8…7… I started the mental countdown ritual. I could do 10. Twenty was reserved for extra shitty days. Fifty was for all-out hellish catastrophes. Today felt more like a 10: a craptastic situation. “You can do this,” I whispered to the reflection staring back at me. “It’s ok. You’re ok. It had to be done. You have to keep going. You can do this, Kami Duvall. You will not break. Not today.” The bar’s marquee stated Dive, though it only slightly resembled the traditional, hole-in-the-wall dive bars I was accustomed to. As I scurried into the air-conditioned building, seeking refuge from the relentless Charlotte summer sun, I could tell it had been recently upgraded with modern furniture and a fresh coat of paint. I liked it already though ambiance was not a requirement for what I had planned for the rest of my evening. I settled in at the bar and ordered a shot of tequila along with a Long Island Iced Tea chaser. When the bearded bartender raised a questioning brow at my request, I diverted my eyes to a bowl of peanuts a few seats down. I didn’t need his misguided judgment. “Damn, baby. Sure a pretty little thing like you can handle a drink like that?” a voice laced with a southern drawl called out to me. I looked up to spot a smiling onlooker across the bar. Great. Judgment and an asshat with my beverages. I smiled sweetly before grabbing my shot of tequila, downing it, tossing the slice of lime to the side, and slamming the glass on the bar. When I looked back up, Asshat was already making his way towards me, obviously intrigued with my shot-pounding capabilities. Unfortunately for him, that’d be the only thing getting pounded tonight. “Hey there, honey. I’ve never seen you ‘round here. You must be new. I’m Craig,” he smiled, extending his hand. I looked at it, scanned the length of his body and turned my attention back to my drink. It was much more exciting. Craig took the hint and pulled his hand back but still settled in the seat beside me. I rolled my eyes; he was a persistent little prick. Normally the southern charm was endearing to a California girl like me, but after what I had just been through, it was annoying as hell. “Craig, right?” I asked after a long pull from my Long Island. He nodded and flashed a hopeful smile. I couldn’t wait to wipe that dumb look right off his face. “First off, calling the wrong person ‘honey’ could very well get you cut. And second of all, how would you know if I was new? Do you hang out here on a regular basis?” “Easy there, darlin’,” he chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “Just making friendly chit-chat. And yes, actually, I do come ‘round here often. This happens to be my family’s place.” I eyed Craig disapprovingly. With his wavy, chin-length brown hair, light brown eyes, and the bit of scruff on his chin, he wasn’t exactly bad to look at. He was actually pretty cute in that young southern gentleman kinda way, but I was too far gone on the self-depreciation train to even fall for his charm. “So what? That gives you a right to harass all the paying patrons?” I replied with a raised brow before downing the last of my drink. It was strong, but not strong enough to stow my bitchiness. “You are an exotic little thing, aren’t ya? Yes, in-deed,” Craig appraised, ignoring my jab. He finished his beer just as our empty glasses were quickly swiped from the bar. “Let me guess- you’re one of those moo-lot-toe girls.” I nearly choked, and probably would have spit my drink right in his face just for shits and giggles if I’d had a mouthful. “Excuse me? Are you trying to say mulatto?” “Yeah! That chocolate and vanilla swirl! I’m right, aren’t I?” Wow. Craig was a bigger asshat than I initially assumed. I had played this game with guys before. The whole, “What are you? Let me guess…” bit was not new to me. Usually I shut it down, but since I had nothing else better to do than stew about my predicament, I thought I’d humor Craig and eventually make a fool of him. I didn’t think it would take long anyway. “No, I’m not moo-lot-toe, jackass. Chocolate and vanilla? Do I look like an ice cream cone to you?” I snickered. Craig’s eyes widened with glee at my choice of words, instantly making me regret them. Thankfully, the bartender returned with our drinks, so I could get back to the task at hand: getting stupid drunk. I looked up to say thank you and was met with a hooded pair of chocolate brown eyes and a boyish grin. His hair was covered in a worn baseball cap, and he had just the right amount of scruff on his chin and upper lip to give his baby face an edge. His hands and arms were covered with intricate, colorful tattoos. He was different from what usually attracted me and absolutely beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I had to tear my eyes away before I used Jedi mind tricks to undress him. I wanted to see what else those tattoos covered. Badly. “CJ, I hope you’re not botherin’ this young lady,” the younger, much more enticing bartender smiled, his deep voice laced with a touch of southern drawl. His large hand (yeah, I noticed) clapped Craig on the back as he shook his head, a lock of brown hair escaping his cap and falling into his eyes. His gaze came back to me, and he winked. Under normal circumstances, the move would have probably made me blush, and/or flash a flirty smile, but my mind and heart were still heavy with grief. I returned the sentiment with a nod and a nervous half-grin. Sure, he was attractive, painfully so, but that thought would be all I could allow myself to enjoy. “Aw, you know me, Blaine. Always makin’ friends,” Craig snickered before taking a sip of his fresh beer. Blaine. Even his name was sexy as hell, and I resisted the urge to try it out on my tongue. He placed his palms against the bar, and leaned in, looking at me expectantly. Shit, I really didn’t want the attention. But he looked at me intently, his head cocked to one side, with his mouth curled up, and I couldn’t think of anything witty or even rude to say to make the guys go away. It made me nervous. Like, really nervous. So I tore my eyes away from his and nodded towards a HELP WANTED sign propped up on a high shelf. “You guys hiring?” Blaine turned and looked at the sign before bringing those brown eyes back to me. “Yeah. Waitresses, line cooks. A bartender. Looking for work?” “Maybe,” I shrugged before taking a sip of my drink while I surveyed the room. It was a good-sized place, and it was centrally located. But, it was virtually empty aside from a few bar patrons. “Did this place just open or something?” “Nah,” he responded with a little shake of his head. The lock of hair fell farther into his line of vision, and much to my dismay, he swept it to the side, tucking it back into his cap. “Just got new management.” Craig snorted and rolled his eyes before taking a chug of his beer. He turned his attention back to me and waggled his eyebrows. “So darlin’, where were we? Oh right…how about Puerto Rican? Mexican? I have to be close. Did I get it right? Or are you just gonna keep me guessing all day?” Ignoring Craig completely, my gaze fell to Blaine’s hands. They rested on the bar, just inches from mine. On one hand, he had a letter written in some type of old script on each finger. The other had a design on the back that fused into the piece crawling up his arm. My eyes followed the vibrantly detailed pattern slowly, studying every line and curl. Even shrouded in ink, I could tell his arms were magnificently cut and defined with muscle. Muscles that flexed and quivered as he leaned against the bar, causing his biceps and shoulders to strain against his fitted, plain white t-shirt. “So are ya?” Craig asked, intruding on my thoughts and pulling me away from the splendor of Blaine’s arms. “Huh?” I sputtered, looking up with a doe-eyed expression and praying that neither of them had noticed my shameless gawking. They both chuckled, making me believe that my prayers had gone unanswered. “Are ya a spicy Latina?” Craig asked as he leaned in closer, hoping to steer my attention to him. I could feel my lips curve into a grimace, and I swallowed down the disgust I felt at that very moment. Without knowing what to do or say next, I looked up at Blaine, whose eyes were still trained on me, an amused grin on his face. Initially, my eyes widened as if to plead for help then settled into a dreamy stare. They wanted to continue their study of Blaine’s physique and I really couldn’t blame them. And who was I to deprive my peepers of the sexiest piece of man-candy they had seen in years? Noticing the flash of desperation in my expression, his smile broadened, and he turned to Craig, releasing me from his compelling gaze. “As always, you’re way off, CJ,” he said, as he turned his body sideways to rest on an elbow. The move allowed me a better inspection of his torso, and revealed a chest and abs under the thin fabric that just begged for a tongue to trace each defined cut. The weight of his body supported by his elbow caused his bicep to stretch his shirt even more. I envied that damn t-shirt. “How so, cuz?” Craig asked, pausing before bringing his beer bottle to his lips. Blaine looked away from Craig to meet my eyes again, however, his gaze was different this time. Less playful and curious, and more… intense. Almost lustful. It held me on my barstool and refused to let me look away or even blink. It burned right into me, marking me in an uncanny way. His expression both disturbed and aroused me, and I couldn’t decide which I was more upset about. “Well, first off,” he finally said, “she isn’t mulatto or even Hispanic. Look at her eyes…perfectly slanted and sexy. Soulful. And her hair… so dark and thick, slightly curled. Hair that beckons you to run your fingers through it from root to tip. Maybe even pull a little,” he smiled crookedly. “And then there’s the shape of her lips…how they dip and curve into a full pout. Lips that you can’t resist staring at for hours. Lips that beg to be kissed.” Blaine chewed his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, as they continued to scan every part of me that he had just so eloquently described. I was nearly dizzy from the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. “Asian. You’re part Asian, right?” he asked simply, no trace of seduction in his voice. His eyes no longer smoldered or emitted the fiery passion he had displayed just seconds before. The switch in gears nearly made me fall flat on my face. Luckily, my roommate/girlfriend/savior strolled in and successfully diverted the attention from me. Every eye turned to witness the grand arrival of Angel Cassidy, dressed in too short cut-offs, a red tank that was suggestively torn and cut to reveal her plump breasts and lace-up black platform heels. She was the quintessential blonde bombshell that filled every guy’s fantasies. With her heart-shaped cherry lips, milky white skin and curves for days, she easily resembled a younger, edgier Marilyn Monroe. I masked the disappointment of losing Blaine’s attention and gave Angel a wink. She strutted over to me, a hand on her hip, and gave me a wicked smile. She clutched the back of my head, tangled her fingers in my dark brown hair, and crushed her glossed lips to mine. A moan rumbled her chest as I pulled her body into mine. It was the kiss heard ‘round the world. Well, ‘round the bar, anyway. Other than a few audible gasps at seeing Angel’s pink tongue dart out of her mouth, Dive was completely silent as she flicked my upper lip before pulling away. The two guys before us each wore amused grins that screamed of lustful possibilities. “Oh, hell yeah!” Craig exclaimed, breaking the deafening silence and smacking Blaine’s chest with the back of his hand. “Lesbians! Now that explains it!” “How are you, baby?” Angel cooed, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear while gazing at me adoringly. I matched her soft smile and placed my hands on her narrow waist. “Better now that you’re here.” “Wow! Can you believe this, B?” Craig still rambled excitedly. I turned back around on my barstool to assess Blaine’s reaction, which was unreadable if not indifferent. Good. Better for him, and everyone else, to see that there’s no chance with me. Not that I thought he was thinking that. “Can I ask you ladies a question?” Craig chimed in. For once since meeting him twenty minutes before, I was glad for his intrusion. I had to stop looking at Blaine. I had to stop giving him the impression that I was interested. Because I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. “Sure!” Angel piped up, sliding her arm around my shoulders and leaning into me. Craig took a hefty gulp of beer and cleared his throat before leaning closer. “Ok. I know you gals are gay, and all, but lez-be-honest …you gotta miss that full, thrusting feeling,” he snickered in a mock whisper. “CJ, dude!” Blaine scoffed, smacking him upside the head. “Ever been with a guy?” Craig continued, ignoring Blaine’s pleas to knock it off. “Because I’d love to be the meat in your sandwich.” With that, Angel and I rolled our eyes before making our way to an empty table. Blaine was still scolding Craig for his comments, and I honestly had to refrain from laughing. Craig was certainly an asshat, but I had to give it to him- he was a funny asshat. “So what happened?” Angel asked once we were settled. I shrugged and looked down at the table, digging my fingernail into a nick in the tabletop. “Same thing that always happens. I hurt him, he cried, then I came here.” “He cried?” Angel grasped my hand, her sparkly black fingernails a drastic contrast to her pale complexion. “You wanna talk about it, babe?” “No,” I replied, shaking my head. I hated that part of the game. Each time, I told myself I wouldn’t get involved- that I would be better off without the trouble. Yet, each time, I somehow let myself break the rules. Then came the pain. Before I could delve deeper into my own self-inflicted misery, Blaine strolled up, giving me a clear view of the rest of his body. Worn blue jeans hung from his hips in that way that showed off his chiseled frame without being too tight. His plain white tee clung to his torso and, if I looked closely, I could see the outline of eight perfectly hard mounds, comprising his midsection. And, I could tell that there was more ink, arousing my interest even more. I forced my eyes back up to his, silently cursing myself. “Hey ladies, sorry about my cousin. He was dropped a lot as a baby,” he said with a smile before crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against a nearby table. The movement caused those luscious biceps to bulge and, once again, that lucky-ass t-shirt stretched. “Oh wow, you’re related to that tool?” Angel snickered. “My sincere apologies.” “He’s an ass, but he’s harmless,” Blaine replied with a one-shouldered shrug and a crooked grin. The combination was incredibly adorable, and I had to squelch a rising swoony sigh. “So is there anything else I can get you ladies?” As always, Angel commanded attention. “Well, handsome, we will have two shots of tequila to start.” She peered at my melancholy expression through dramatically long eyelashes. “Actually, make that four shots. Maybe I’ll get lucky,” she winked. Blaine smirked knowingly before scraping his bottom lip with his teeth. Something inside me clenched. “Was I right?” he asked, suddenly directing his attention to me. I frowned, completely caught off guard. “Huh?” He uncrossed his arms and took a step forward, causing me to take in a sharp breath. “About your nationality. I was right, wasn’t I?” “Um uh…” I stammered. I wasn’t entirely sure why I had suddenly lost my train of thought, but all I could focus on was that pesky lock of hair that was slowly easing its way from outside of his ball cap once more. “Oh, Kami’s nationality?” Angel piped up, her eyes darting between Blaine and me questioningly. “Her mom’s from the Philippines.” With his eyes never straying from mine, Blaine smiled crookedly and nodded. Then he turned away from the table, stealing my breath and taking it with him back to the bar to retrieve our shots. “What the fuck was that about?” Angel squeaked in her high-pitched soprano. The crude comment was a direct contrast to her bell-chime tone. After regaining the usage of limbs and brain function, I turned to Angel. “Nothing. He and his cousin were trying to figure out what I was.” “Yeah, yeah, I get that… I’m talking about the obvious Take me, take me now stares. I mean, seriously, did it just get hot in here or what? I thought he was about to ask you to grab your ankles!” I shook my head and looked down at my peeling nail polish. “No, you’re seeing things. Besides, I’m not going down that road again. I’m done.” “Sure, sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say. I love you anyway,” she grinned, blowing me a kiss and eliciting a chuckle from me. “There’s that smile!” Just as I was beginning to unwind, Blaine returned with a tray of shots, lime slices, and salt. With one extra. He distributed our four, then picked one up for himself, raising it in a toast. Angel looked to me with a wicked gleam and picked up the saltshaker. She leaned over, then seductively licked my neck and sprinkled a little salt on it. Feeling satisfied with my compliancy, she eased a lime wedge between my lips and picked up her shot glass. My eyes fluttered closed when her small hands cradled my face and sucked the salt from my neck, licking and nuzzling as if we were alone in the room. Then she pulled back, clinked her glass against Blaine’s, and downed her poison. For the second time today, her lips pressed against mine, as they sucked the wedge of lime. Blaine didn’t even bother with his own slice; he was too busy staring at the girls practically making out in front of him. From a few yards away, I could hear Craig catcalling and cheering, yet Blaine was silent, a small smile playing on his perfect lips. It made me wonder if he was just being respectful or was gay himself. “Ok, your turn, Kami!” Angel exclaimed. With a sigh, I nodded and began to make my way towards her neck when she grasped my shoulders, halting my approach. “Not me, silly! Him. He doesn’t have another shot, and I want to take the next one with you. Don’t worry, I won’t get jealous.” My eyes instantly whipped to his furrowed brow, both our expressions full of surprise. “Um, Angel, honey, I think that is highly inappropriate. There’s no way I could do something like that to him. He works here.” Blaine licked his lips and cleared his throat. Somehow it sounded more like a groan. “I don’t mind if you don’t, Kami,” he said. My name sounded different on his tongue, almost dirty. The delicious kind of dirty. I bit my bottom lip, and glared at Angel, knowing exactly what she was up to. She made everything into a game and was always looking for ways to be entertained. That attitude was embedded in her poor-little-rich-girl persona. She returned my evil eye with a wink and waved her hand towards Blaine. Not feeling nearly drunk enough, yet warm from my previous drinks, I rolled my eyes and returned my attention back to the deliciously tattooed bartender before me. “Um, ok. I guess.” Blaine smiled sheepishly before pulling up a chair and straddling it backwards. Now he was closer to me, so close that I could smell him. And I’ll be damned if he didn’t smell amazing. It was a mix of mint and spicy cologne that paired with his body’s natural scent in a way that made my mouth water. I silently cursed again, but directed it at Angel this time. I should have never smelled that man. It was wrong. So, so wrong. Yet so, so good. I mustered up my courage and inched towards him slowly. Blaine kept his eyes on mine, refusing to even blink in my pursuit. I knew he had to hear my heart nearly pounding through my chest; hell, it was all I could hear. His gaze never wavered. When I was only inches from the smooth, tanned skin of his neck, he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and tilted his head, giving me full access to the known erogenous zone. By this point, my heart was hammering double time, and I thought I might go into cardiac arrest at any second. I had to keep going. I couldn’t let him see just how much he affected me. Angel and I had done this plenty of times with guys way less good-looking. This man should be no exception. The taste of his skin caused a tiny moan to escape my throat as the tip of my warm tongue licked a trail toward his earlobe. He tasted exactly how he smelled- of mint and spice. It made me want to keep licking and suck that earlobe right into my mouth, to nibble it gently between my teeth. Aware of the spike in his breathing at the feel of my wet tongue, I pulled back to gauge his reaction. Blaine’s eyes were hooded, low, and smoldering, and I knew that they matched my own. His teeth released his bottom lip and his tongue rested on it, ready for… I don’t know what. But I noticed. I noticed everything about him in that moment. With the taste of him still lingering on my tongue, it was damn near impossible not to. Angel cleared her throat and nudged me with the saltshaker, bringing me back to the here and now. I took it from her, not even bothering to acknowledge her presence, and sprinkled a bit on the moistness drying on his neck. With another nudge, she passed me a lime wedge. Tentatively, I advanced towards him again, my eyes trained on that tongue. With just an inch separating my fingertips and his lips, Blaine opened his mouth just a fraction, and I saw it. A barbell. His freakin’ tongue was pierced. I knew I should have stopped there. I was getting in way over my head. Really? Body shots with a complete stranger? Not only that, but a tattooed, pierced stranger that screamed recklessness? But I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward. I couldn’t keep my tongue from darting out and licking that salty trail, sucking his skin gently into my mouth, and causing him to groan. After I downed the shot of tequila, his flavor still hadn’t left my mouth. It coaxed me to cradle his face and crush my lips to his. The wedge of lime may have separated our mouths, but I distinctly felt Blaine’s soft lips and the warmth of his breath. I didn’t even bother to suck the lime at first. I just let my eyes close for a split second and enjoyed the intimate feeling. It was… incredible. Stupid and dangerous, yet incredible. Remembering the task at hand, I gave the slice of citrus a suck, eliciting another groan from Blaine. Then I realized I was actually sucking his lip. His bottom lip, so soft and sweet, was in my mouth, and I had been running my tongue along it. I pulled away quickly, abandoning the lime and letting it fall to the floor between us. Neither one of us made a move to pick it up. There was too much…there. I don’t know what it was that crackled between us, but it was there. And it was confusing the hell out of me. Blaine’s expression was still full of desire and question, making me believe that he was just as confused about what transpired. My lips burned and I wanted to feel that fire again immediately. The way he licked his lips signaled that he wanted the same. “Woo hoo, cuz!” Craig sidled up, clapping Blaine on the back and breaking our trance. “Looks like you wanna be the meat in the sandwich tonight! You lucky sonofabitch!” Blaine looked up at his cousin and blinked rapidly, as if he had been entranced for the past five minutes. Jumping from his chair with enough force to make it screech against the hardwood, his eyes darted between Angel and me before settling on my face. Then he…frowned. He frowned like I had just manipulated him and forced my tongue down his throat. Like he regretted the semi-kiss we just shared. I looked down at my last shot and threw it back, not even bothering with salt and lime. I don’t think I could ever use those accompaniments again. “Um, uh, if there’s nothing else…” he stuttered, chewing that lip again. The very same lip that I had just sucked lime juice from. “Yeah, I’ll be at the bar if you need anything.” Then he turned and retreated back to safety, leaving us with his dim-witted cousin. Plopping down in the chair that Blaine abandoned, Craig smiled brightly at us as if he were next in line. I rolled my eyes at him and looked to Angel who was wearing a devilish grin. I was beginning to think those were the only kinds of smiles she possessed. “So, it’s CJ, right? Hi, I’m Angel Cassidy,” she announced with an air of arrogance that only Angel could pull off gracefully. She extended her hand to him and he received it eagerly. “Yeah. Well, the name is Craig, but people been callin’ me CJ since I was a kid. Real good to meet ya, Angel. Real good. The name certainly fits.” Angel held up her hands in warning before CJ could go any further. “Ugh, do not ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven, or if I have wings, or any other dumb ass pick-up lines.” Tuning them out as they made small talk, I looked towards the bar, instantly locking eyes with Blaine who was staring intently. Several seconds ticked by before either of us could do anything but breathe. Finally, a bar patron grabbed his attention and stole his gaze from me. I was thankful and highly irritated, all wrapped into one. “So CJ, what’s your cousin’s deal? Is he seeing anyone?” Angel asked, provoking me to whirl around and narrow my eyes at her. Craig looked back towards the bar where Blaine was still helping a customer. “Who, B? Nah. He doesn’t have a girl. Not anymore. Why?” “Oh, no reason,” Angel replied, darting her eyes to me. She was up to no good, which was usually the case. Before she could inquire if Blaine was a boxer or briefs guy, the older, bearded guy that served me earlier poked his head from behind a door a few yards away and summoned Craig to the back. “I think it’s time to go,” I said, forcing myself not to look towards the bar. “What? I haven’t had nearly enough to drink!” And with that, Angel waved directly towards the area I was trying to avoid. Seconds later, Blaine was in front of us, his tattooed hands grasping the edge of the table. His presence brought it all back to me…his scent, his taste, the way his body was a work of art that I wanted to paint with my tongue. All the reasons why I most definitely should not speak to him again. “Hey Blaine, can we get a couple more? And don’t forget to grab a shot for you too,” Angel winked. “He can have mine,” I mumbled, refusing to look at him. I felt a lone finger brush against my forehead, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. Then it traced the curve of my earlobe, making me shiver. His touch resumed the pesky pounding in my chest. “Are you sure, Kami?” he asked with a husky voice. The same voice he used with me before as he described my eyes, my hair, my lips…and what should be done to them. Unable to string a sentence together, I simply nodded. Blaine made no move to leave. He kept touching me, like feeling my skin was the most natural thing in the world to him. Slowly, he leaned down to me, coming in so close that his scent of mint and spice filled my nostrils. We were almost eye-level, and I couldn’t do more than hold my breath with anticipation. I should have been scared by his touch. I should have stopped him before he moved any closer into my personal space. But I just…couldn’t. “Hey, you don’t have to pretend anymore,” he said just above a whisper. “Pretend?” I exhaled, the word coming out in a rush. What does he know of my pretending? There’s no way I could be that transparent. I’d had years of practice. “Yeah,” he grinned crookedly. “CJ’s gone. You can stop pretending…that you girls are together. That you’re gay.” “Excuse me?” Angel piped up, her voice laced with annoyance. “What makes you think that we’re pretending to be gay?” Blaine’s eyes darted to Angel for a split second, and he shook his head lightly. “Not you.” Then his chocolate brown gaze was back on me, sweeping over every inch of my face. It was like he was studying every feature, trying to unveil some big mystery. “Her. She’s pretending.” “How do you know I’m not a lesbian too?” I asked. The question was meant to come out with a trace of attitude, but it ended up being breathy and light. As if the sound of my betraying voice amused him, Blaine flashed that boyish grin. My tenacity was going…going….gone. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re feeling the same thing I’m feeling right now.” Then he did something that had me yanking my purse open, throwing down a twenty, and high-tailing it out of there in 3.5 seconds. He took off his worn cap and ran a hand through his hair, the light brown locks settling into perfectly messy “just-fucked” hair. Hair I wanted to grab and tug while his tongue slid against mine. Hair that I wanted to feel tickling my sensitive areas while he worked me over with that metal-studded tongue. I was in my car and flying out of the parking lot before Angel even made it outside.
Copyright © 2013 Syreeta L. Jennings
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Меня зовут Джесси Купер. Я была полна решимости остаться сосредоточенной на своей карьере помощника личного тренера и не позволить своей склонности спасать сломленных мужчин встать на пути. Однако, мое убеждение не помешало мне влюбиться в Пола, борца ММА. Я попыталась найти силу и желание уйти до того, как потону в чьих-то проблемах вновь. Но, наверное, уже слишком поздно? Содержание:
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