Ask Me Anything

by Molly E. Lee

  NightLocker: Sweet dreams

  PixieBurn: Night, Locker

  NightLocker: Ha. Ha.

  She clicked offline before I could type out another response to her totally corny pun. I shut my laptop screen, setting it on the nightstand next to my bed. Rolling to my back, I sighed.

  My headache was gone, the internal battle I’d raged put to bed.

  Replaced by thoughts of what Amber had in store for me.

  Whatever it was. Wherever she took me. I knew it’d be incredible.

  Because that was what Amber did. Made any kind of situation better.

  …

  “We’re getting on a train?” I cocked an eyebrow at Amber as she ushered us through the too-crowded station early Saturday morning. As promised, I’d been a good boy all week, and she’d rewarded me with a double Americano. I clutched the warm paper cup in my hand, siphoning the life it offered.

  “No,” she said, rolling her eyes as she handed the clerk two tickets. “This is it. Surprise!” She waved her free hand in the air like she was in jazz club. “We’re going to watch the trains come and go all day and pretend like we’re passengers for each one. We’ll make up stories for what we’ll do on our travels. Whoever comes up with the best story wins.”

  I gaped at her before scanning the station as she led the way to the main lobby. There were eight tracks, all of them concealed by a floor-to-ceiling glass wall, doors carved out with turnstiles for each track.

  She stopped near an empty bench, eyeing me.

  I shrugged. “Well, I’m going to win,” I declared, dropping my backpack filled with an extra pair of clothes, sleep-shorts, and a toothbrush on the bench.

  Her lips popped into the shape of an O.

  “What?” I asked. “I’m good at making up stories.”

  She burst out laughing. She shook her head as she scooped up my bag and shoved it against my chest. “I was joking,” she said, motioning to the third door on the left. “We’re on track three.”

  My backpack felt way too light without my gear in it as I slung it over my shoulder and followed her to the line outside track three. Glancing up, my eyes popped when I read where the train was headed. “New York?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re taking me to New York?” I asked again as the line moved forward.

  “Yes.” She handed the ticket-taker her phone, and he scanned two barcodes on her screen before waving us onward.

  Dumbfounded, I hurried behind her as she scanned the train cars, reading the letters aloud.

  “B!” she squealed after we’d all but sprinted to the front of the train. She climbed the small set of stairs, turned right, and then plopped down into a double row of seats. Patting the seat next to her, she grinned up at me. “Or do you want the window?” she asked when I hadn’t moved.

  I shook my head, sinking beside her.

  She leaned back against her chair, stretching out her long legs. “Wait till you see what we’re doing when we get there.”

  “Wait,” I said, shifting to face her, our knees brushing. “We’re not just seeing New York City? We’re actually doing something specific when we get there?”

  She chuckled. “Of course.”

  “Damn.” I leaned my head against the seat, never taking my eyes off her as the conductor came over the speakers, talking about the stops and lunch and drink options.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m not used to losing.”

  “You don’t even know what we’re doing yet.”

  I raised my arms to indicate the train that now pulled out of the station. “This is enough to put my silly arcade night to shame.”

  She reached over and placed her hand over my forearm. “That wasn’t silly.” She glanced down, her tongue darting over her lips. “It was amazing. This,” she said, looking out the window before returning her eyes to me, “is my way of saying thank you for all the nights after that one. And,” she continued before I could argue with her, “it’s also something I’ve had planned for months. I wasn’t sure I would go through with it until I realized how amazing going with you would be.”

  I smiled at her, adjusting so that I interlaced her fingers in mine. “Thanks,” I said.

  “For what?”

  “For all of this. For trusting me enough to let me tag along.”

  She shrugged, but her cheeks flushed. “DC. Right?”

  I nodded. “DC.”

  …

  Three and a half hours later, we were both glancing out the window as New York came into view. Amber clapped her hands together. “We’ll have just enough time to check into the hotel, eat, and then get changed!” Her voice was laced with the kind of excitement I reserved for when I won hacking tournaments. It was totally contagious and absolutely adorable. The fact that Amber had called my mother to give her all the details—including the hotel room—and clear everything with her was insanely cute. I’d tried and failed to not think about the two beds that awaited us in one room. I mean, sure, two beds, but…Amber would be sleeping not ten feet away from me. My blood rose a few degrees just thinking about it.

  “You going to tell me where we’re headed yet?”

  “Sure,” she said, and my eyes widened with anticipation. “The Sheraton Hotel,” she said, a smirk on her lips.

  “Ugh,” I groaned. “Not cool.”

  She lightly smacked my chest. “I’m so cool! I took you on a train to NYC!”

  I captured her hand, holding it in place against me. “Truth.”

  Her breath caught, but she didn’t try to pull away.

  I held her there until the train stopped.

  And she let me.

  …

  “Why do you keep checking your cell?” Amber asked, a smile on her face as we took the elevator up to our room.

  I pocketed my phone, shrugging. “Honestly, I keep expecting a text from your dad, complete with death threats or an admission that they’re staying one room over.”

  She laughed, tapping the key against the door, and held it open for me.

  “You sure they’re cool with this one-room situation?” I asked, tossing my bag on the bed closest to the window.

  A flush dusted Amber’s cheeks as she set her bag down and nodded. “Yes. You know my parents,” she said, and it was comforting to know that I did. The last four weeks we’d spent plenty of time at her place, with her parents always around, and it was never a downer. They were cool, laid back, and yet…parent-y.

  “I do,” I said. “But I’m still thinking this is kind of a dream.”

  “They trust me. And you, apparently. Also, like you mentioned before, eighteen.” She tilted her head. “Your idea of a dream is sleeping in the same room with me?” She snorted. “We’re in the coding room for hours together. What’s the difference?”

  I slowly rose from the bed, crossing the distance between us to gaze down at her. “There is a huge difference, Pixie. You know it.”

  She swallowed hard, staring up at me, her eyes churning.

  “You don’t snore in the coding room,” I said, and she blew out a breath.

  “I don’t snore.”

  I shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

  …

  Three hours and a couple room-service burgers later, Amber was stepping out of the bathroom, fully ready for our night.

  She wore a black plaid skirt that stopped above her knees, a gray sweater, and some kick-ass black combat boots. Her hair was in its usual feathered style, the pops of pink complementing the smoky stuff she’d slid over her eyes.

  “Whoa,” I said, my eyes drinking her in. “You look amazing.”

  “So do you,” she said.

  All I’d done was shower and slide into some dark jeans and a navy-blue Henley. Still, the way she eyed me up and down like she wanted to ta
ke a bite out of me? Worth it.

  I mentally thanked Tessa for conning me into taking her shopping and then forcing me to buy this shirt—which at the time I thought was too tight. She’d assured me it was perfect, said it brought out the blue in my eyes or some shit.

  “You ready for this?” Amber asked, heading toward the door.

  I opened it for her. In reality, I wasn’t sure. Something was building between us—had been building for months now—and I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t calm it, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But I certainly didn’t want to overstep a line, especially if Amber still had it firmly drawn. So, was I ready to keep things strictly friendly?

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  Because I knew despite how strong the current sparked between us, I wanted her in my life. Any way I could have her.

  She smiled like she held the biggest secret in the world.

  I was more than ready to uncover it.

  …

  “Holy. Shit.” I gaped at Amber as we were allowed inside the massive venue packed with all manner of people. People with mohawks. People with neon hair. People with brightly colored bracelets and glow-in-the-dark necklaces. All cramming onto one wide-open space of a dance floor laid beneath the biggest stage I’d ever seen.

  “deadmau5?” I asked. “You’ve had tickets this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

  She giggled, bouncing on her feet as we claimed a spot near the front. “You like?”

  “Love,” I said, pulling her close so she could hear me. “I can’t believe you wanted to give me your extra ticket.”

  The laughter left her eyes, her shoulders dropping. She shook her head, forcing a smile. “I think it was meant for you all along,” she said. “I just hadn’t known it yet.”

  I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my chest. “You win. Forever,” I said as the lights dimmed. “There is no way I’m ever topping this.”

  She tugged on my head, bringing my ear to her lips to be heard over the cheering crowd. “I’d like to watch you try,” she teased. “If you feel like it.”

  “Oh, I will try.”

  Before she could respond, red lights pulsed over the stage in beat with the music. Amber and I joined the crowd, screaming our excitement when the massive projector screen lit up with deadmau5. From where we stood, we could see him behind his epic DJ table, the massive silver mouse head—its big round eyes lit up with X’s—as he bounced and pressed all the magic buttons to create the perfect sounds.

  The beats were epic—smooth and slow, and rapid and sharp. That was the best thing about him, he had his hand in everything and it pulsed like a living, breathing song inside you. The perfect hacking music, too, allowing you to lose yourself in the rhythm and fall completely off the grid.

  But we weren’t hacking tonight.

  No.

  This—with Amber in front of me, swaying to the beat of the music—it was better.

  I never thought I’d say that in my life. But it was true.

  Song after song, I held on to Amber’s hips, dancing with her, watching her lose herself to the music. Watching her smile and cheer and perfectly bounce against me. She was beyond beautiful, the freedom in her eyes, the spark that fired behind them when she’d turn to glance up at me despite feeling that I was there.

  There were at least a thousand other people surrounding us, and even more than that behind us—but it felt like we were alone.

  Her body soft against the hard planes of mine.

  The way she rolled her hips, and the way I gripped them, following her with my own moves.

  Perfection.

  There was no other way to describe it. She made me feel awake—like she was this living flame lighting up a world I hadn’t realized was dark before she came into it.

  And I couldn’t believe I’d gotten lucky enough to be the one holding on to her fire.

  We danced the night away, and when the last song quieted throughout the loud venue, I leaned down and tucked my head over her shoulder and breathed her in. She smelled like lavender and vanilla and the smoke that coated the concert hall.

  She wrapped an arm around me from behind, turning her head so our noses touched.

  My heart raced like a gun had gone off.

  Her eyes were excited, open, and just a tad bit afraid.

  I didn’t move. I wouldn’t. Not again. And if this was all she wanted—dancing and comfort and fun—then I would give it to her a hundred times over and never ask for more.

  A few breaths and she inched her lips closer, brushing them with a feather-light touch over mine.

  I sighed hungrily but didn’t dare push it. Moving back slightly, I gauged her reaction.

  Bright, beautiful eyes. On fire.

  In a blink, she turned in my embrace, facing me, our chests flush. Fingers on my neck, she jerked my head down, this time crushing her lips on mine. I folded my arms around her hips, hefting her to my level, holding her against me as I let her take what she wanted, and gave everything back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amber

  Fireworks.

  White-hot heat and smooth-as-honey comfort.

  The boy’s lips were a crazy electric battle of hard and soft, hungry and selfless.

  His kiss tasted unique to him—warmth and spearmint and energy and everything that had me craving more.

  Whenever Brandon had kissed me, I wasn’t this active of a participant, wasn’t this…starved. I hated that my mind went there, that it compared the two, but it did. And there was no denying this was different.

  Epic.

  Intoxicating.

  Fun.

  Safe.

  The stark realization jolted me out of the kiss. My feet hung off the floor as Dean held me pinned to him—his grip strong but gentle—and in that moment, I knew this was right. He had me trapped in his embrace, so much stronger than me, and yet, I felt no need to break his grasp. No fear of not being let go if I asked.

  All the nerves and anticipation I’d had leading up to this trip…it vanished. Evaporated in the swell of heat that swept beneath my skin.

  “Pixie,” Dean said, his breath sweet on my lips. He trailed the tip of his nose over mine, pressing his forehead to mine as he slowly lowered me back to the floor.

  I grinned up at him, staying tucked underneath his arm, basking in the levity of trust, respect, and excitement.

  Funny, I would’ve never known how important those things were if not for…

  I tensed, the memories hitting me hard and fast. Dean sensed the shift, the crease between his brows deep as he glanced down at me. He motioned toward the back of the audience, where I knew the exit was.

  I nodded, more than happy to beat the crowd before the concert ended.

  “You okay?” he asked me in the cab, our fingers laced together.

  “Yeah,” I said, lost in my thoughts as we rode back to the hotel.

  I wanted more from Dean. Could feel it churning in my core.

  That was huge.

  But how could I truly be with him if he didn’t know the truth?

  Would he think less of me if he knew? Would he put distance between us? Regret the kiss we just shared?

  What if he takes Brandon’s side?

  I shook my head, trying to force the thoughts from my brain as we rode the elevator up to our room.

  Our room.

  Sure, there were two beds.

  Yes, I’d assured Mom we’d each be sleeping in one. But after everything…after that kiss? I sure as hell didn’t want to.

  “Amber,” Dean said, a plea in his tone after I came out of the bathroom, totally transformed from concert-chic to comic-book-pj-fantastic. “Talk to me.”

  I wrung my hands, pacing the space in front of him where he sat on the edge of the bed.

&n
bsp; “Was it the kiss?” he asked.

  “No,” I said quickly. “Well, yes and no.”

  “I didn’t mean to ruin things again,” he said. “If I did.”

  I froze for a moment. “You didn’t. I swear. I just…” I started pacing again. “I liked it. Loved it. Dean…I like you. More than I thought possible.”

  A wide, easy smile shaped his lips as he stared up at me. It fell in a few breaths. “Why do I feel a but coming?”

  “I just,” I said, my stomach dipping. What would I tell a person on the blog? What advice would I give?

  I’d urge them to be truthful and strong and love who they were. To not be afraid of rejection, no matter how hard it was.

  God, it was so much easier to give advice than take it.

  “I can’t be more with you until you know the truth,” I said. “The reason behind my tears the first time we kissed.” Heat flushed my entire body. I couldn’t believe I was about to tell him, but I had to know how he’d react.

  And he had a right to know. To decide for himself if he thought I was…damaged.

  “Pixie,” he said, standing up to cup my cheek. “DC, remember? You can tell me anything. I’m not going anywhere.”

  With those words, I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes. The story from that night spilled from my lips.

  I sucked in a sharp breath as I finished laying the dark pieces of my soul bare. Shocked retelling the tale hadn’t brought tears to my eyes. I took comfort from that strength, but it did little to ease my tangled nerves.

  “We made Jake sleep at my house that night,” I said, sighing. “He was in such a rage. And I didn’t want him getting expelled over that jerk.” I wrapped my arms around myself, the cold from revisiting the night having crept into my bones. “I had to talk Mom out of pressing charges,” I said, shaking my head. “Maybe I should’ve let her. Maybe not. I was so confused and in shock I think…” My words died in my throat, telling the story aloud both cathartic and exhausting.

  Dean was frozen on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched against the white comforter.

  Oh God, he thinks I asked for it, too.

  He thinks I brought it on myself dating a guy like Brandon.

  I clenched my eyes shut.