Bittersweet: An Equilibrium Novella

by Christina C Jones

  “Nah,” Tory shrugged. “You’re just a newbie – we’ve all seen Nik let loose, this is nothing. I’m telling you – this uptight stuff didn’t used to be her default.”

  “But it is now,” I said, shaking my head. “Did you ever say what was in that cup?”

  “Uhh… I know it was two or three pretty generous shots of bourbon. Two or three espresso shots. Like six pumps of sugar syrup. Almond milk.”

  I frowned. “What the fuck kinda combination is that? You trying to raise the dead or something?”

  “It’s what he ordered!” Tory defended. “I didn’t make it up. And like I told you before, that was a very… get lit before the function type of concoction. That nigga is probably at the club right now, chasing it with more liquor. Nik has been a lightweight lately. If she drank that whole thing, um… she’s gonna have a headache tomorrow.”

  “She practically licked the damn mug,” I muttered, pushing away from the bar. “Can you hang around and keep an eye on her while I get everything shut down?”

  “Definitely,” Tory agreed, and I gave her my profuse thanks before I went about the rest of my actual duties for the night. Once we got all the patrons out, I sent Tory on home, then finished up everything else.

  Then… I had to get Anika’s drunk ass home.

  At first, she’d just been wired and kinda goofy, but by the time I got her into her coat and all that, the espresso and all that damn sugar was wearing off, taking her toward the inevitable crash. Luckily, I didn’t have to ask for directions – I knew exactly where she lived, because it was across the hall from my brother, in the B.Spoked building.

  The sidewalks were an icy mess from a combination of fresh sleet and snow, and by the time we got to her building, another heavy blanket of snow had started.

  Just my damn luck.

  I managed to get her inside the building but getting the keys to get her actually through the door… another damn issue.

  “What are you doin’, Royal?” she giggled as she slumped against the door. “You tryin’ to… you tryin’ to get into my place? Get into my bedddd, in my panntiiesss, aren’t you?” she hummed, holding her bag away from me. “Just admit ittttt.”

  I shook my head. “If I say yes, will you get the damn keys out?”

  Her eyes went wide – adorably so, honestly – and she nodded. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Fine. I’m trying to get in your panties, Anika.”

  Instead of actually getting her keys, she broke into a peal of laughter. “Ooooh, I knew it! I knewww it.”

  “Please open the door.”

  She bit down on her lip, her eyes low again now as she dug in her purse for the keys. “Fine. But make it good, okay?” she murmured, way too sexy for this impossible ass scenario I was in with her.

  She fumbled at the lock with the keys for a moment before I took them from her, hauling her inside and locking the door behind us. I didn’t even bother asking her which room was hers – I took her to the first one I saw.

  Anika was all giggles as I pulled off her hat and unzipped her – as soon as I had the snowy wool pea coat off her, she threw her arms around my neck, practically climbing me.

  “Whoa,” I groaned, trying to dodge her lips as she aimed them right at mine. “Anika, come on.”

  “I’m coming,” she said, then stopped, and giggled in my face. “Well, not yet. But soon, right?”

  “Yeah, you’re completely toasted,” I told her, trying to extricate myself from her as she hooked one leg, then the other around my waist – completing that whole climbing thing. Her dress rode up her hips, and thank God for leggings, but damn… my brain may have known better, but my dick was responding to everything she was offering right now.

  “Just give me a little bit,” Anika crooned, kissing all over my face until she finally landed on my lips. “I just wanna see it.”

  “Okay, enough of this,” I declared, managing to pry her off me and drop her into her bed. Her arms splayed out, legs wide as I removed her boots, leaving them by her bed and quickly moving away in case she decided to spring at me again.

  No worries there, though.

  She was already passed out.

  And this is probably why she “doesn’t drink as much anymore,” I thought to myself as I stepped out of the room and closed the door. I would definitely be using this shit as teasing material, damn near wishing I’d been recording it, just in case her ass didn’t remember.

  Shaking my head, I opened doors until I found the bathroom, which was just as spotless as every other area of the apartment that had come into my view in the few minutes I was here. I relieved myself and washed my hands, then took a moment to clean off all the red smudges Anika had left on my face with those aggressive ass kisses.

  I… couldn’t front.

  Her lips had felt pretty damn good.

  For all my flaws, though, I wasn’t that guy, to actually go along with her drunken declarations – especially when I knew her state was accidental. In different circumstances, I’d be inside her right now, working out every piece of that perpetual stick up her ass.

  As it stood now?

  I’d settle for teasing the life out of her about this shit tomorrow.

  Four

  Anika

  Did something die in my mouth?

  That was the first thing that ran through my mind upon cracking my eyes open. Heavy drinking – or any drinking – certainly hadn’t been on my agenda last night, and yet… the feelings coursing through my body were very reminiscent of those aftereffects.

  Yuck mouth?

  Check.

  Pounding headache?

  Check.

  Churning stomach only curable by a stack of greasy bacon and hash browns?

  Check.

  Missing panties and disappointed pussy?

  Actually… no.

  Hm.

  Strangely enough – gratefully – I was in my own bed, fully clothed except my boots, and the socks I’d kicked off at some point in the night as usual.

  That was definitely a deviation from Fast Nights at Urban Grind like I used to do, so instead of having to wrack my brain for what idiocy I’d gotten myself into the night before, I peeled myself out of bed to go brush my damned teeth.

  The yuck mouth was making my stomach hurt worse.

  I dragged myself to the bathroom, where I did a doubletake at the sheer horror of my appearance. My hair was smushed into a flattened mess, my mascara was all over my eyelids and even smudged down to my cheeks. The flirty red lippie? Spread all over my mouth and chin.

  I… looked like a clown meme.

  Accurate.

  After scrubbing the remnants of last night’s liquor from my teeth and mouth, I moved on, giving myself the full facial cleansing I’d neglected last night before I got in the shower. I pushed the water as hot as I could stand it, letting it soak into my skin and somewhat ease my general feeling of… grossness.

  By the time I turned the water off and grabbed a towel, I was feeling like a whole new woman – one who still needed that bacon and hash browns. The sound of piano keys let me know Jules had come by and was likely entertaining herself while she waited for me to finish in the bathroom.

  I quickly went through the process of running product through my freshly washed hair, finishing my skin routine with my moisturizer, and then lotion. When I was done, I wrapped myself in the robe my mother had brought me from the Reverie hotel after her last trip to Vegas, then stepped out into my apartment in search of my cousin.

  That was not what I found.

  I hadn’t imagined the piano music, but it was much more elegant and effortless than anything beginner Jules could’ve done. When I turned the corner to the tiny alcove where my little baby was set up…

  Royal was there.

  In nothing except his boxers.

  “Good morning.”

  He said that and then flashed me that dimpled atomic bomb of a smile, not missing a single note of whatever it was he was playing. My
feet were planted to the cold wood floor, not moving.

  Why is Royal in my house?

  Why is he playing my piano?

  Why is he almost naked?

  This was a dream.

  As soon as the thought occurred, it took root in my mind, and I nodded because that was the only explanation here.

  “This is a dream,” I repeated, out loud, propping my hands on my hips. “This isn’t real.”

  Suddenly, Royal stopped playing. I watched as he pulled all six-feet-something of deep-chocolatey goodness from the seat at the piano, and openly stared at the prominent bulge in his black boxer-briefs – it was a dream, why the hell not? – as he padded across my floor on bare feet.

  He stopped in front of me, so close that I could feel the heat from him through my robe, could smell the remnants of his cologne. That bulge was so prominent that the rest of him wasn’t touching me, but it was, and… my nipples were hard. But I didn’t care if the imprint was visible through the robe or not, cause… dream.

  A prickle of electric warmth rushed through me when he grabbed my hand, holding it up to push the sleeve of my robe up my arm. He met my gaze with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and then grabbed the soft flesh just before the crease of my elbow, squeezing it between his forefinger and thumb.

  “Ouch!” I exclaimed, pulling away as the smirk he’d settled into blossomed back into a smile.

  “See? Not dreaming,” he declared, and those words echoed in my head like they’d been yelled into the friggin’ Alps. Over, and over, and over, until they clicked. And then…

  “Man, what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!” I yelled, backing away from him with my fists lifted and clenched.

  Royal’s eyes went big, and he glanced around and behind himself, then back to me, obvious amusement written into his features. “You… Anika, are you about to two-piece me?!”

  “If you don’t give me some damn answers really quick, hell yeah, we’re about to box!”

  He laughed.

  He laughed at me.

  “Put your fists away, Tori McNabb,” he chuckled. “No need for all that. Tory – our Tory, from UG, made you a drink last night, but you picked the wrong one up. One that was… a whole ass life and death in a mug. You had that drink, to drink, and you got drunk.”

  “Did you seriously just quote T-Pain…”

  “Glad you’re a woman of enough taste to recognize it. But anyway – yeah… you were pretty fucked up.”

  I shook my head. “No. I don’t do that anymore. Not in years.”

  “Uh…clearly,” he said, smirking. “It was very obvious we saw a side of you that had been suppressed.”

  My eyes about bugged out of my head, and my arms fell to my sides. “Wait what? What did I do?”

  He shrugged. “Sang along to some Vanity songs about pussy.”

  “I do that every day.”

  “Twerked a bit – you’ve got skills.”

  “Oh, that’s not too bad either.”

  “I had to walk you home because there was… whew, there was no way you were getting there on your own.”

  Okay.

  My face got a little hot at that one.

  “Shit. I’m… I’m sorry you had to go out of your way.”

  “Don’t be. That’s where the fun really started.”

  I pulled my eyebrows together. “What?”

  “Yeah…,” Royal nodded. “You were pretty sure I was here to get in your panties.”

  “Oh. No.”

  “Oh yes. And you were with it too, just as a note. You quite literally climbed me.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Kissed all over my face…”

  “Oh nooooo.”

  “Pleaded with me…”

  “No.”

  “To just… give you… just a peench of dick.”

  “No!” I shrieked, holding up my hands. “No. That didn’t happen,” I declared, even though as he spoke, it was all coming back to me in technicolor detail.

  “Oh, but it did,” he laughed – a deep, full-throated laugh that made me understand how one might be driven to murder. “Now, you did pass out about thirty seconds after that, but still. And you’re welcome for getting you home.”

  “Oh God,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands – I was so embarrassed that my skin was hot to the touch as I tried my best to hide behind my fingers.

  “Don’t be shamed now, you weren’t when you were showing off your knee strength,” Royal teased, only making me further want to melt into the floor as the sound of his feet padding across the floor hit my ears. When he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in. “In seriousness, though – you just looked like you were having fun. The only person who saw the really embarrassing shit was me.”

  “And that’s supposed to make it better?” I asked, taking my hands down to look up at him. That was when it really struck me what was happening – I was naked under this robe, in Royal’s arms.

  I’d been resting my head on his chest.

  I was looking up into his eyes, like… like…

  “Why are you here?” I asked, wiggling out of his loose hold and putting some distance between us. “You said I passed out, so…”

  He shrugged. “You obviously haven’t looked outside yet, have you? There was all kinds of snow and sleet happening last night – I actually got you home as it was starting up. I crashed on your couch instead of trying to get back to my place in dangerous conditions.”

  “You say that so casually as if you wouldn’t be bothered by finding out some strange man had spent the night in your living room!”

  “Daaamn,” he groaned. “Anika, we’ve worked together every day for damn near… two years or something. I’m not even “coworker,” I’m some strange man. That’s cold.”

  “Yeah, well…” I floundered for a moment, trying to find the words before I shook my head. “Just… put some damn clothes on!”

  He gave me a blank look and then turned to do precisely that, which gave me a perfect view of his perfect ass in those boxer briefs. Quickly, I turned my back to him, sucking in a deep breath as I struggled to process… any of this.

  From the drink mix-up to him on my piano, to learning I’d physically accosted him, I just…

  What the fuck is my life right now?

  “Better?” he asked, and I turned to find him in his jeans and sweater from the night before, and honestly… no, it wasn’t better, because he still looked entirely too good to be in my apartment right now.

  “Yes,” I lied, not keeping my gaze in his direction too long. “Are we um… are we snowed in, or something?”

  “Nah,” he said, dropping onto my couch to re-fold the blanket that was always draped there – the blanket he’d obviously used to sleep, which probably now smelled like him. “It was bad last night, but the roads are pretty clear, and the sidewalks have probably already been salted.”

  I nodded. “Cool. So… you can go now, right?”

  Royal’s eyebrows lifted as he returned the blanket to its’ place. “Damn. You’re really trying to get me out of here, huh?”

  “Well… yes. Did you expect different?”

  He tipped his head. “Not at all. You reacted… about how I expected you to. As usual.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  He shrugged, reaching for the shoes he’d left by the couch. “Just that you… do things a certain way. Always. So it’s not too hard to predict your actions and reactions. I’ll admit, though – the twerking surprised me.”

  “But you’re saying I’m predictable?”

  “Most neurotic people are,” he explained, super casual. “You’re nothing if not set in your ways.”

  “I’m not neurotic, I’m… detail-oriented, and organized, and—”

  “Passionate about the brand,” Royal interrupted in a tone that was clearly intended to mock my voice.

  My arms dropped to my sides, fists clenched. “You�
�re an asshole,” I stated, nostrils flared. “Just because it’s not serious to you, doesn’t mean it’s not – or shouldn’t be - important to me.”

  Royal didn’t say anything, his gaze resting on my face for a moment before it dropped lower, in a blatant perusal. “Your robe is open.”

  Instant heat rushed to my face as I looked down to confirm that my robe had, indeed, come open from my hastily tied belt.

  “Get out!” I shrieked, as I snatched the two sides around my body and re-knotted the belt, more securely this time. “Right now.”

  “I’m going,” he insisted, laughing as I snatched up his ear warmer and gloves from the table beside the couch, shoving them at him. Just like the pest I’d always known him to be, he took his sweet time getting to the door, and no amount of me pushing at him seemed to make him move a millisecond faster.

  “If you tell anybody about last night, I will literally murder you,” I threatened, drawing more laughter as he turned to face me in front of the door.

  “No worries, A-nik-a.” he grinned. “Last night is just between you and me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do not make it sound like… ugh! Whatever. Get out,” I hissed again, unlocking and flinging the door open.

  To find my mother standing on the other side, fist raised, poised to knock.

  What.

  Is.

  My.

  Life.

  “Mrs. Ellis – a pleasure to see you, as always,” Royal said, suddenly wearing the most charming of charming smiles instead of that irritating smirk. “I see mother and daughter just looking good as they wanna look first thing in the morning.”

  Of course, my mother smiled back, looking between me and him, taking note of my not dressed state before she spoke. “Well, aren’t you a sweet young man. You work with Anika at the coffeehouse, right?”

  He nodded. “I do. Royal Taylor. I believe I’ve made your oat-milk gingerbread latte more than once this fall – add a splash of pumpkin and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top, right?”