Summer Romance Boxset - Weightless, Revelry, On the Way to You

by Steiner, Kandi

  I sighed, not wanting to ruin our night within the first five minutes. “Nothing. Let’s go ride something.”

  “Something or someone?” She waggled her brows and I smacked her arm playfully before we made our way with the rest of the group to a spinning, flipping, high-speed ride that I was absolutely positive couldn’t be safe. Willow handed me the flask to finish off when we took our place in line, the purple glitter sticking to my hands a bit as I stole the last drag. I tucked it in my purse just as Mason sidled up beside me.

  “Hey,” he said softly, his brown eyes warm in the fair lighting. He looked like he’d been drinking, and without Shay on his arm, he almost looked like the old Mason. Brown hair mussed and wispy in the wind from the ride, same familiar grin on his face.

  It made my stomach ache.

  “Hi.” I returned his smile, but I wasn’t sure what to feel. He was nice at the club yesterday, but then he just let Shay say what she did without so much as a disapproving glance. I couldn’t figure him out.

  “You look really pretty tonight. Is that a new dress?”

  I tried to fight it but my cheeks burned and I nodded. It was a new dress — a knee-length, cream dress with a pink rose pattern splashed across it. Willow and I had gone shopping at the mall earlier that day and she had practically flipped when she saw the way it accented my cleavage and made my waist appear smaller than it really was. My heart hurt when I realized Mason was the only one in my life who would notice something like a new dress. No one else paid that much attention to me.

  “Well, I like it.” He grinned wider, tucking his hands in his front pockets. “So, you’re training with Rhodes?”

  I chewed my lip, debating an answer. I didn’t want him finding out about my training and now that he knew, I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to tell him about it. Did he already think I was doing this for him?

  I didn’t have the opportunity to reply. Shay slid up beside Mason and wrapped her arms around his middle, nudging her way in until his arm was around her shoulder, her sharp hazel eyes on me like I was a bug that needed to be killed.

  “What are you talking to her about, baby?” She asked the question to him, but her gaze was still fixed on me.

  Mason smiled down at her and kissed her forehead. A little piece inside me broke in that moment. “Just chatting. You ready?” he asked just as the line moved and we had to file into the death contraption. She giggled and grabbed his hand, leading him forward and casting another frown in my direction. When she looked away, Mason looked back at me, an apology in his eyes.

  I just sighed.

  Regardless of Shay’s attempts to throttle the night with her glares and snide remarks, Willow’s promise held true. We did have a good time. We rode ride after ride and took ridiculous pictures with my camera. I even took a few photos of Shay and Mason, though it almost killed me to do so. Maybe Rhodes was right. Maybe I really was too nice.

  Willow wasn’t the only one who brought flasks. Everyone in the group was passing them around all night and when they ran out, we found a local carny who knew me. He hooked us up with Coca-Cola cups filled with booze and we were pretty much set after that. No one questioned the red cup and by eleven, most of us were sloshed.

  I had avoided eating all night, trying to stick to the meal plan Rhodes had prescribed, but the drunchies were catching up to me. When the gang started to head toward the Ferris wheel, I told Willow I had to pee and snuck away into the bathroom to eat the protein bar I’d packed in my purse. It felt a little weird eating in the bathroom stall, but it was better than doing it in front of Shay. I could only imagine the remarks she’d have for me eating a protein bar.

  When I finished, I let myself break the seal, which always made me feel even more intoxicated when I stood back up again. Thoughts of Rhodes and the hot tub were creeping in as I washed my hands but I didn’t have time to dwell on them, because as I dried my hands on a harsh brown paper towel, the bathroom door opened and Shay stepped in with her friend.

  My heartbeat accelerated.

  “Oh heyyy, Natalie,” she cooed sweetly, but she blocked the exit and I knew that sweetness was laced with venom. “Fancy meeting you in here.”

  “I don’t want any trouble with you, Shay,” I said, tossing the paper towel I’d used into the trash can. “Let’s just get back to everyone else and finish out the night. We’re both mature enough to do that, right?” Even as the words left my lips, I shook. I wasn’t confident in my ability to be mature any more than I was hers.

  She barked out a harsh laugh that seemed too big for her body. “Oh, Natalie. Sweet, naive Natalie. Don’t you get it?” She paused, her lips pressed together as if I were a poor child on the side of the road and she was offering me a grilled cheese. “You don’t belong here anymore.”

  Her words slammed into me hard, but I lifted my chin. I was determined to stand tall. She seemed to notice, so she stepped closer to me, her eyes leveling out to mine. They were so menacing for such a tiny thing.

  “No one cares about you, Natalie. Can’t you see that?” She pointed to the door. “Everyone in that group uses you because you can get them things. Your step-dad owns the town and you have privilege. You’re useful. But no one cares about you. Maybe Willow, for reasons I’ll never understand, but no one else. Stephanie doesn’t care about you, Dustin doesn’t care about you, and Mason doesn’t nor has he ever. They all feel sorry for you, Natalie. You’re the fat girl with a lot of money who’s good to keep around for resources. That’s all you are. And that’s all you’ll ever be to them.”

  My resolve cracked and my shoulders slumped, tears biting at the back of my eyes. I tried blinking them away, but the liquid only pooled between my lids, blurring my vision.

  “Aw, look Tawnya. She’s crying.” They both snickered and I shoved through them, wiping my face as I did. When I made it outside and the warm, thick air hit my skin, Mason was just a few steps from the bathroom door. Everyone else stood several yards away, laughing and looking at something on Willow’s phone, but Mason was too close to pretend he didn’t know what just happened. He’d heard everything, I knew he had, so I waited. I waited for him to stand up for me, to take my side, to put Shay in her place, but when Shay walked out behind me, still laughing, she slid her hand into his and he took it.

  I crumpled as I lifted my eyes from where their hands were clasped to stare at Mason, open-mouthed. He still wore apologies in his eyes but no words came to support them. It was then that it hit me.

  He wasn’t my Mason, anymore.

  “Who are you?” I asked, voice cracking. I shook my head, tears still streaming down my hot cheeks. Then, before I embarrassed myself further, I broke through my group of friends — or, what I had always thought were my friends — and bee-lined for the parking lot. Willow chased after me.

  “Natalie! Natalie, where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving, Willow. I can’t do this,” I called out behind me, eyes forward.

  “What? What are you talking about? What happened? I thought we were having fun,” she pleaded as she caught up to me. She wore a confused expression and it tore me up to think that maybe I’d held her back all these years. She was friends with the loser fat girl.

  “You’re having fun,” I corrected her, spinning to face her and halting in my tracks. “I’m miserable. I have been since we got here. Shay just ripped into me in the bathroom and I was mad at her at first but now I almost want to thank her,” I admitted, a short laugh escaping my lips. “Because she’s right, Willow. I don’t belong here. Not in this group, not at this fair.” I motioned to the rides around us, my arm falling to my side with a slap. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I shook my head. “Not in this town.”

  “Natalie,” she reached out to touch me but I shrugged away from her.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Please, don’t follow me.”

  With that, I spun on my heels and walked as fast as I could in the stupid shoes I was wearing away from the group. I wasn�
�t sure if they’d heard what I’d said to Willow. Part of me hoped not, part of me didn’t care. I tried to hold myself together as I made my way through the crowd, but the further away I got, the more it seemed like the string tethering me to the ground was shredding into nothing. My breath was labored, tears flooded my eyes and ran down my face, and I felt a pain like nothing I’d ever experienced racking my chest.

  I was nothing. I didn’t belong.

  I was almost to the exit when I stopped in line at a fried food booth. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself. Food was always my answer. When I hurt, I turned to food. And at that moment, I didn’t have the fight to stop myself.

  “What would you like, miss?” the man asked me when I reached the front of the line. He had dark, leather-like skin and lines on his face that told me he had worked his entire life. He eyed me cautiously and I realized I probably had makeup smeared everywhere. I chewed my lip, something inside me still trying to fight against what I was about to do.

  “Miss?” he asked again.

  I choked on a sob, feeling myself breaking again, when warm arms wrapped around me. I didn’t even know who they belonged to yet at the same time I somehow sensed him. I caved, leaning my weight back into his hard body, letting him hold me steady.

  “She changed her mind.” I turned to meet Rhodes’ intense eyes and he pulled me into him, his arm tight around my shoulder. Something shifted in that moment — something small, almost too small to acknowledge. It was like the world tilted off its path just a millimeter, but I felt it shake everything inside me.

  “Miss?” the man asked again. He seemed alarmed by the way Rhodes was staring at me. I can’t say he was alone in that sentiment.

  I shook my head, pulling my gaze from Rhodes to him. “Sorry, I’m fine. Not as hungry as I thought.”

  The man appraised us carefully, then shook his head. “Have a good night, folks.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly as Rhodes tugged me away from the stand and in the opposite direction of the one I’d been walking in. He didn’t say anything else, but it was then that I realized he was holding my hand.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked behind him as we walked. “Be honest.”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned as he looked back at me again. “You’ve been crying.”

  I swallowed, eyes on my feet as I forced a weak smile and shrugged. He tightened the grip on my hand.

  “Let’s go. I’ll make you food.”

  “It’s almost midnight.”

  “So I’ll make breakfast.”

  I almost giggled, but I couldn’t find the strength. He was pulling me toward the south exit, the opposite side of where I’d been trying to leave. I prayed we wouldn’t run into the group and thankfully, we didn’t. I was far from ready to face them. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to again.

  “Why are you even here?” I asked as we walked. “I thought you were busy.”

  He swallowed. “One of my clients wanted to meet here. I was on my way to find her when I saw you.”

  A strange sickness rolled through me. “Why were you meeting a client here?”

  He didn’t answer, and visions of him in the hot tub the night before hit me once again. I wanted to ask him more about it, but I didn’t have the energy, so I let it go. It wasn’t my business anyway, which he’d made clear the day before.

  Just as we reached the gate, a huge confetti canon let loose announcing the final fireworks show. Small pieces of colorful paper started raining down over us and I pulled my hand free from Rhodes before retrieving my camera from my purse.

  He turned and watched me carefully as I adjusted the lens and focus, snapping different shots of the kaleidoscope paper rain.

  “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment.

  I smiled. “Finding something beautiful in the chaos.”

  Rhodes didn’t share my smile, but he didn’t pull me away, either. He stood and let me take photos until nearly every scrap of paper had fallen and the last firework exploded in the sky. When I reviewed the pictures on the screen, I shook my head.

  There are some sights in life, some little moments, that never look as pretty in a picture as they do in real life. I couldn’t capture depth with my camera — not true depth, anyway — like the depth of the dark night sky that surrounded each rainbow-colored morsel as it fell in the bright firework light. I couldn’t record the way it felt when that soft tissue paper hit the skin on my tear-stained cheeks. Or the way my chest felt heavy as I snapped each photo knowing he was watching me. It was a breathtaking moment frozen in time by an unremarkable photograph.

  But it would live brazen in my memory forever.

  I rode on the back of Rhodes’ bike to his house, since Willow drove us to the fair and I didn’t have the Rover. It was terrifying and exhilarating and I was already a complete mess, so everything felt intensified as the wind whipped through the hair that hung lower than my helmet. He didn’t have an extra one, since he wasn’t exactly counting on running into me, so I wore his and he went without one, even though I tried to fight him on it. Rhodes seemed completely at ease with my arms wrapped around his middle, but I could feel the chiseled abs I’d yet to see beneath his shirt and it made it hard to catch a breath.

  When we reached his apartment and he wheeled the bike inside his foyer, Rhodes flicked on a few lights before dipping into his bedroom. I stood by the kitchen island for a moment, looking around, wondering how I’d found myself back at his place. After a moment, my feet reminded me how much they hated me with a shooting pang and I slowly eased my way out of my wedges. Wiggling my toes, I groaned with relief as I stripped each shoe off and let them hit the floor. Rhodes appeared again and watched me with a shake of his head as he moved straight into the kitchen and pre-heated the oven.

  “Why the hell did you wear those things to the fair, anyway?” He scowled, leaning up against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. He was dressed more casually now than when he picked me up, sporting a heather-gray t-shirt with PBHS Weightlifting written on the front in dark green and simple black basketball shorts. He was also wearing a flat-billed hat, which I’d never seen him wear before. It framed his face in a way that somehow made his defined jaw look even stronger — square, symmetrically perfect.

  When I didn’t answer his question, recognition hit his eyes and he nodded. “Ah. I get it. You wore them for your ex, didn’t you?”

  I cringed. “Willow’s idea.”

  “Mm hmm,” he murmured under his breath. He was watching me more carefully than usual that night, questions that he wouldn’t say out loud hidden behind his gaze. The silence of his apartment wrapped around us as his eyes drifted down to the hem of my dress and back up to my mouth. I wanted to break the quiet, ask him why he was staring at me like that, but he turned too quickly and began grabbing ingredients from the fridge. “What’s your favorite fair food, Bug?”

  I scrunched my nose. “I don’t know, probably corn dogs. And don’t call me Bug.”

  “Why?” he asked, turning to drop an armful of food and seasonings on the counter in front of me. “Your friends call you gnat. It’s the same thing.”

  I giggled. “It’s far from the same thing.”

  “It’s similar,” he argued, pointing the fork he’d just pulled from the drawer at me. “And it made you smile, so you can guarantee I’ll be saying it again.” His eyes glistened and for the life of me I couldn’t figure him out. Last night, he was pissed at me and wrapped around an older woman in the hot tub. Not that he couldn’t be friendly with me and do the same thing, but still. He was different then — angry, distant. Now, he was grinning and making jokes. And cooking for me. Again.

  He said we were just trainer and client, but this was the second time he’d invited me to his place. And, he brought me here because I’d been crying and he wanted to help take my mind off it. That seemed like something a friend would do.

  I was going to need a chiropractor for the whiplash.
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  Rhodes went to work on whatever he was making and the minute the herbs hit the air, my mouth started watering. I was still kind of buzzed, which just made me that much hungrier. After he whipped up what looked like little muffins and popped them in the oven, he set the timer for ten minutes and we moved to the couch. He sat on one end and I hugged the arm at the other, like I was scared to touch him even though I’d just had myself wrapped around him on the way over.

  “How are your feet?” He nodded toward where I was still stretching out my toes. There were red marks from the straps indented along the bridges of both of my feet, the edges of them outlined by dirt.

  I shrugged. “They’ve been better, that’s for sure.”

  “Here,” he said, leaning forward and lifting my right leg into his lap. I instinctively yanked it back.

  “Ew, absolutely not. You are not touching my feet, especially after I walked around in wedges in the dirt all night.”

  He chuckled, and it revealed a smile I hadn’t seen on his face before. It was mischievous, curious, and sexy as hell.

  “Relax, Bug. I’ve dealt with way dirtier things than your feet.”

  His electric eyes glimmered at that remark and he held his smirk. Hesitantly, I let him take my leg again. The minute his strong hands started working the balls of my feet, I melted back against the couch.

  “Oh,” I groaned, squirming under his touch. He stopped, but just for the tiniest second, before continuing his slow assault. I watched his hands carefully, but I felt his eyes on me, not the work he was doing.

  “You were drinking tonight.” It wasn’t a question, but I felt like I was being reprimanded.

  “I needed to drink, Rhodes.”

  He paused, switching to my left foot. “I get that, but alcohol isn’t going to help you reach your goal,” he said sternly. “I’m not saying you can’t ever drink, but it shouldn’t be often. And when you do, try drinking the low-calorie vodka and water. It doesn’t taste as good, but it still works the same and it won’t crush your nutrition for the day.”