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

by Steiner, Kandi

  I couldn’t open my eyes wide enough to take it all in. There were hundreds of people crowding the street, pouring in and out of bars, all of them dressed in costumes and their necks decorated with layers and layers of beads. It wasn’t even Mardi Gras, but I learned quickly that it didn’t need to be for everyone in that city to celebrate and show skin for plastic necklaces.

  Emery grabbed my elbow and pulled me closer to him as we walked through a particularly crowded part of the street, his eyes on a bar in the distance.

  “It’s like you’ve never been to a block party before,” he said, his mouth close to my ear.

  I just laughed, my gaze not catching on one scene for too long before I was finding something else new. “I haven’t. This is… insane. There are so many people, and it’s so loud!”

  “And smelly,” he added, and I laughed again. He wasn’t wrong.

  Emery had to guide me the entire way until we got to the bar, especially since I was stopping at every street performer we passed along the way. There were saxophone players and flame throwers and magicians, voodoo doctors and bead vendors, and a group of religious protestors holding up signs that read, “Jesus Is Watching.” There was so much to look at that it was impossible to see it all, but I still tried, eyes wide as I took in everything for the first time.

  “You sure you don’t want anything?” Emery yelled over the live music in the first bar we slid into. He had ordered a grenade, which made me fear for his life.

  “I wouldn’t mind a water.”

  His brows knitted together, a curious expression flashing on his face before he ordered me the water, taking the barstool next to the one I’d propped myself onto.

  We turned in our seats, listening to the middle-aged man playing an acoustic guitar as he made jokes with a bachelorette party gathered around his tiny stage. It was curious that the bar was so packed and loud and yet felt so intimate and cozy at the same time. It was like we were all just a group of old friends, reunited for the evening.

  I sipped on my water as the man on stage started his version of “Sweet Caroline.” My free hand was absentmindedly rubbing my left thigh, but I pretended I was just tapping along to the beat when Emery’s eyes would catch on my fingers. Sometimes it was phantom pains, other times it only felt like pins and needles, like my leg was asleep, and right now I had a combination of the two as my feet dangled from that barstool.

  We weren’t there for long before two things happened at once, almost so in sync I thought they were planned.

  One, an adorable brunette more than a little blessed in the bust area propped herself right between Emery’s legs, her chest directly in his line of sight as she leaned up to whisper something in his ear. I flushed red, tearing my eyes from the scene and back to the stage, but my view was blocked by a dark-haired, tattoo-covered man as he smirked down at me.

  “Water, huh?” he said, appeasing my half-empty plastic cup. “I knew they went hard in NOLA, but no one warned me about girls like you.”

  My cheeks heated double-time, and a nervous laugh shot from my lips as I took another sip.

  He seemed to be about my age, maybe a little older, and he leaned one elbow on the bar to my right, effectively separating me from Emery and the busty brunette from the bachelorette party.

  “I’m Vinny,” he said, reaching out a hand for mine. His entire forearm was covered in ink, and my eyes traced the lines of it as I slid my hand into his.

  “Cooper.”

  He grinned, tapping one of my devil horns once he dropped my hand from his grip. “What’d you do to earn these, Satan?”

  I swallowed down the rest of my water, abandoning the empty cup on the bar and immediately reaching for my hair. I gathered it at the back of my neck before pulling it over my shoulder, hands fussing with the ends of it as I tried to play cool.

  “I stole a backpack once.”

  Vinny laughed. “I knew you were trouble.”

  He asked where I was from, and I answered just as the overwhelming sensation that I was being watched washed over me. Vinny started in on a story about the one time he spent a night in Mobile, but not a single word of it registered, because Emery still had that girl between his legs, her back to me, her lips whispering God knows what in his ear, but his eyes were like laser beams on me.

  There was no emotion behind his stare, his expression as smooth as a pond at night. One hand rested on the waist of the brunette practically crawling into his lap, the other sat wrapped around his drink, but his eyes were on mine, asking me something I couldn’t answer, or maybe telling me something I already knew.

  I kept his gaze for just a second before snapping my attention back to Vinny, nodding and smiling as he continued his story. I could still feel Emery’s eyes on me, could see him in my peripheral, and heat crawled up my neck as I tried to focus on what Vinny was saying.

  “So, you just in town for the night?”

  I nodded. “Yup. Just passing through.”

  Vinny leaned in a little closer, the distinct smell of whiskey on his breath. It reminded me of my dad, in the absolute worst way, and I fought against the urge to cringe. “What do you say we make the most of it, then?”

  I swallowed, Vinny’s eyes flicking to my lips as he leaned in, and my heart picked up speed.

  He was cute, but did I want him to kiss me? Did I want to make the most of the night with him?

  My fingers paused where they were braiding my hair, and I looked over Vinny’s shoulder, seeking Emery, but he wasn’t there.

  “Hey.”

  I jumped a little at his voice, whipping around to look up at him. He towered over Vinny, standing at the front of my barstool now, not even acknowledging the man who stood to the right of it.

  “You ready to grab a bite to eat?”

  I nodded, relief washing over me as I turned my attention back to my new friend. “Sorry, the devil needs sustenance. Have a good night, Vinny.”

  “Yeah, have a good night, Vinny,” Emery repeated, his jaw set like stone as he glared at the tattooed man.

  Vinny stood straighter, putting distance between himself and the bar, eyes roaming over Emery, unimpressed, before finding mine again. He didn’t say another word before grabbing his drink from the bar and making his way back to the crowded dance floor in front of the stage.

  Emery watched him go, a scowl set on his face until his eyes found mine again. His expression smoothed, and he held out a hand, helping me down from the barstool.

  “How’s your luck, Cooper Owens?”

  “So, you don’t drink,” Emery mused as I chowed down on the last of the Po-Boy sandwich dripping deliciousness over my hands. I didn’t even care how unattractive I looked as I chewed the last bite, dropping the wrapper in the trashcan outside of Harrah’s Casino before wiping at my hands with the stack of napkins I’d had shoved in my back pocket.

  “Nope,” I murmured around the mouthful, wiping at the edges of my lips and dropping the napkins into the trashcan, too. Emery watched me with an amused smile, hands tucked easily into his front pockets. He hadn’t eaten anything, opting for another drink, instead, but it didn’t stop me from grubbing down. “Never have.”

  “That because you’re not twenty-one yet, or is there another reason?” he asked, pulling the large glass door open for me to walk through.

  A symphony of ringing bells, cheers, and laughter hit me all at once, combining with a cloud of cigarette smoke that I squinted my eyes against as a man standing at the front door took my ID. It was the fake Tammy had purchased for me as a joke, and I’d never used it — never needed to — but it seemed to be legit enough to work because the man handed it back to me without so much as a second glance, taking a look at Emery’s next.

  I didn’t even have time to be nervous about him checking it before it was back in my hand, and I slid it into my back pocket with wide eyes still looking around me. It was the first time I’d ever been in a casino and I scanned the bright lights of the machines, the crowds gathered aroun
d the tables in the back, the man’s voice announcing over the intercom that someone had won fifteen-thousand dollars with their player’s card.

  “My parents drink,” I answered when Emery was beside me again.

  His brows furrowed as we walked the outer aisle toward the bar, my eyes still bouncing off the various machines. “And so you don’t.”

  “Exactly.”

  He nodded, and though I hadn’t told him anything, he seemed to understand everything I didn’t want to say.

  Emery ordered a Tom Collins at the bar, making sure he got me a water with it, before leading us right into the middle of the slot machines.

  “Okay, pick your poison,” he said, eyeing the machines as we walked.

  I laughed. “I don’t really gamble, either.”

  “Not for you,” he said quickly. “For me. Pick a machine.”

  I chewed my lip, nose scrunched as I surveyed the options. I spotted a vacant one a few rows away with a big screen above it, all with boxes wrapped like birthday presents. There were streamers and party poppers and cartoon people dancing all over the screen, and I pointed to it with a shrug.

  “That one looks fun.”

  He followed my finger until he found the machine I’d pointed out, then he nodded, guiding us toward it and pulling over a spare barstool so I could sit beside him. Emery slipped in a twenty-dollar bill and the machine sprang to life, a loud, goofy voice yelling out a welcome to us.

  He pushed the button for max bet, eyes on the spinning lines of the screen. “You don’t get along with your parents,” he said, and the machine dinged with a prize half of what he’d bet. He hit the button again.

  It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “They’re not really parents, honestly. More like roommates.”

  “Were they pissed that you left?”

  A dry laugh left my lips. “They didn’t even notice.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, but I kept my eyes on the screen, watching as he won three dollars thanks to a line of party streamers. He tapped the button again, watching the screen with me.

  “What about you,” I asked. “Are you close with your parents?”

  “No,” he answered easily. “Not because they’re bad people. They’re actually pretty perfect,” he admitted, like he hated that fact. “But I’m not really close with anyone.”

  “By choice or circumstance?”

  “Both.” The machine punctuated his sentence with a sad horn. He lost that bet. “I’m not exactly the easiest to get along with.”

  “So, there’s no one you’re close with, then?”

  “Not anymore.”

  I waited for him to continue, to tell me what not anymore meant, but he just sipped on his drink, finger tapping at the max bet button again.

  “That mean there used to be someone you were close with?”

  Emery paused, eyes flicking over to mine before adjusting back on the screen. “My Grams.”

  I nodded, heart in my throat as the first page of his journal flashed in my memory, along with our conversation earlier in the car.

  “What was she like?”

  He smiled a little, even though the twenty he’d put in the machine was now down to six dollars and seventy-two cents. “She was quiet, and kind. She listened a lot, not just to people but to the world around her.” He looked at me then. “You remind me of her.”

  “I do?”

  Emery nodded. “This is it, last bet.” He jerked his head toward the machine. “I think you should take the last spin.”

  He was changing the subject, and I let him, closing my eyes and sticking my tongue out as I popped the plastic button with a flat palm. “Big money, no whammies!” I yelled.

  Emery bit back a smile, curious eyes watching me instead of the machine.

  I shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  The lines lit up and the screen cleared, all of a sudden filled with rows of tiny presents like I’d seen before we sat down.

  “Holy shit,” Emery laughed the curse. “You got the bonus.”

  “I did?!”

  “Pick a box.”

  I bounced in my seat, picking box after box, some of them doubling our prize or sending us into a new level of the bonus. Each time I picked a box that wasn’t a dud we screamed, drawing a small crowd, all of them laughing and rooting us on. By the time it ended, the last three dollars we’d bet climbed up to five-hundred and twenty-two, and a few whistles rang out over the applause as the machine counted up our winnings.

  “I can’t believe that just happened!” I squealed, fingers twirling the ends of my hair over my shoulder.

  Emery hit the print ticket button and stood, laughing.

  “You really were lucky, like a penny heads up on the highway,” he said. I cranked my neck to look up at him, the sharp edges of his jaw and cheek bones highlighted with shadows in the casino light. He looked a little intimidating.

  He looked a little beautiful.

  “Maybe I should call you Copper.”

  I grimaced. “Please, don’t.”

  “Too late.”

  And then he laughed, and I did, too, and the stranger with the car didn’t seem quite so scary anymore.

  I woke to the gentle sound of my alarm the next morning, and my eyes shot open, hands scrambling for the device to shut it off before it woke Emery. When the room was silent again, I snuck a glance in his direction.

  He was still just a rumple of body under the big comforter, the sides of it pulled free from where it had been tucked under the bed. One foot stuck out and hung over the side of the bed, and his hair peeked out from the opposite end, the only proof there was a human there at all.

  Inhaling a deep breath and letting it go softly, I scrubbed a hand over my face, eyes focusing on the intricate designs that covered the all-white ceiling above. Kalo huffed next to me, laying her head on my hip, and I rubbed behind her ears until she was asleep again, my mind waking up slowly.

  Last night had been fun, and the entire concept of road tripping across the country with someone I didn’t know felt a little less insane now that the sun had risen on a new day, but I still wondered where the day would lead, where the trip would take us. I glanced over at Emery again, my gaze falling on where his journal lay face down on the bedside table, the pages flattened against the wood to mark where he’d been writing the night before. I’d pretended to fall asleep quickly, all the while listening to his scribbles over the page, wondering what it was he could be writing.

  You’re not reading his journal, I chastised myself, taking another deep inhale before reaching under the covers for my prosthesis. I never slept with it on, but I also didn’t want to take it off in front of Emery… not yet. So, I’d waited until he clicked his light off, until his breathing intensified to a soft snore, and then I’d carefully removed it, tucking it under the sheets with me.

  Once it was back in place, I sat up slowly, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I adjusted the prosthesis again before rolling the pant leg of my yoga pants down over it and standing, wiggling my knees until it locked into place.

  As quietly as I could, I slipped on my shoes and tucked my yoga mat under my arm, making my way toward the door. The room was still mostly dark, the curtains pulled closed except for a tiny sliver in the middle which provided just enough light for me not to fall on my face.

  “You can do that in here,” Emery murmured, but his voice was so deep and loud in the otherwise silent room that I jumped.

  Flattening a palm over my racing heart, I turned to face him, but he was still buried under the covers.

  “It’s okay,” I finally said, voice a whisper, like I was still afraid to wake him. “I prefer to do it alone. I’ll be back soon.”

  There was movement under the comforter and then an arm stuck out, one thumb raised in understanding before he pulled it back under the covers.

  I smiled, letting myself out into the hallway.

  The hotel gym was expansive, with top-o
f-the-line equipment lining all three walls, but luckily for me it was empty that morning. I laid my mat down in the free space lining the large windows overlooking the French Quarter, stretching my arms over my head as I looked out at the city slowly coming to life.

  When I was ready, I lowered myself down into a seated position, once again taking my prosthetic leg off and setting it to the side. I unwrapped my socks and peeled off the liner, eyes scanning the familiar scar at the end of my stump. Sometimes when I looked at it, I was removed from the memory, only seeing it for what it was and what it wasn’t. Other times, like that morning in New Orleans, I blinked and flashed back to the accident, to the blood, to the screaming, to the numb awareness that my entire life was about to change.

  After my physical therapy had ended, I’d taken up yoga, deciding I would do it without my prosthetic leg. I wanted to build strength, both externally and internally, and I also wanted to find inner peace and understanding.

  Closing my eyes, I started my practice with long inhales and exhales, slipping away from reality for a while.

  Yoga brought me comfort, and I slipped into my practice easily, slowly moving to standing position and through various poses with my eyes adjusting to the rising sun over the city. Before I knew it, I was on my back in Savasana, eyes closed as I braced myself for the new day.

  Thoughts of my parents creeped into my mind, as they always did, and I would imagine myself stripping those thoughts from my mind and dropping them onto a cloud floating by, just like my yoga instructor had taught me when I was thirteen. Anything that didn’t serve me, mind, body, and soul, I let go of in my morning practice. When my eyes fluttered open and I pulled my leg into place again, I felt at peace, walking back to the room with an easy smile and open heart.

  The room was still dark when I opened the door, and it appeared Emery hadn’t moved even an inch. I checked the time on the small alarm clock next to his fluff of hair, frowning when I saw it was already eight. Our plan had been to be on the road no later than eight-thirty.