For a moment I’m convinced they’re going to dance. Other couples are spontaneously doing it. Hell, Lawson and some chick dressed like a dominatrix are doing it, but Rush starts nibbling on Ava’s neck, and my blood runs cold.
“Shit. He can’t do that,” I pant as if my opinion about anything would matter. “Hey.” I try to get his attention without stepping in too close. A swarm of coeds bursts in from behind, butting me into Ava and Rush without meaning to.
“Watch it, dude.” Rush elbows me before diving his mouth back over her neck.
Ava glances over with a sleepy-eyed expression, her lips parting as if she’s actually enjoying it.
I’ve had my fair share of surreal moments, those out-of-body experiences that leave you to believe no matter what happens next nothing is real, of no consequence—it’s all some warped and twisted dream you’ll soon wake up from.
Rush brushes a line of kisses up her cheek, and I kick his leg out from under him.
“What the hell?” He gives a hard look my way. “Dude—get lost, would you?” He ducks back down for another peck. Here it is, a real do-or-die moment. I either kick the living shit out of my best friend or turn the hell away.
Ava’s eyes snag on mine, and the two of us freeze that way for what feels like forever. Then, just as Rush is about to land his wandering lips square over her mouth, Ava slaps her hands over his chest and pushes him away. She whispers something into his ear before taking off out the back.
Rush looks over at me, his anger morphing to something just this side of curiosity.
“Dude, what the hell has gotten into you? Where’s your girl, man?”
I want to say my girl just walked out that door, and then it hits me.
Ava. She’s my girl.
A dull laugh thumps through me, dissipating as quick as it came. We could never work out. Ava deserves someone better, someone who doesn’t come with so many broken pieces.
A cool set of hands covers my eyes a moment before Darcy pops in front of me. “Boo!” She offers up a spontaneous salute with her red Solo cup, the booze emanating off her breath like a fire hazard.
Rush glances from Darcy to me with that strange look on his face he gets whenever there’s deductive reasoning involved. “Whoa.” He tilts his head as if he’s put it all together. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah, sure.” I excuse myself from Darcy and follow Rush to the back where the music is toned down just enough. “What’s going on?” I lean back on my heels, still feeling the need to pound in those lips of his. Who the hell does he think he is trying to take advantage of Ava?
“Are you into Darcy?” He shakes his head as if he already has the answer.
“We’re friends. I told you that. We were together, and now we’re—I don’t know, here.”
“That’s not what she said.” He downs the beer in his hand before tossing the bottle into an oversized houseplant just a few feet away. “She said you’re inseparable. It sounded like things were back on track.”
My heart thumps into my skull and gives my brain a good rattle. Crap. Who else is she telling this to? It kills me to think she’s even hinted at this with Ava.
“No. I don’t know what she’s talking about. We’re just hanging out.”
Rush gives a humble shrug. “Sorry, man. I probably just misunderstood her.” He gives my arm a quick sock. “Try not bumping into people tonight. I almost kicked your ass.” He shines that shit-eating grin my way, bright as a spotlight in this dim light before melting back into the crowd. That’s exactly what I want to do, melt into the crowd, into the woodwork, or perhaps the most efficient of them all—right into the ground with my sister.
I head back out and tell Darcy I’m heading up to bed.
Her mouth falls open as if crestfallen before perking right back up.
“I can tuck you in if you like?”
And there it is—the offer she’s hoping I won’t refuse. I grimace toward the back where Ava slipped out not too long ago. The last thing in the world I want is Darcy anywhere near my bed. The old me would have let her stay. I might have taken things too far and not thought twice, but this version can’t get out of this fire fast enough.
“That’s okay. Thanks, though. You need me to call you a ride?”
Darcy sobers up with her eyes narrowed, her lips pinched shut to nothing. “That’s all right.” She lands her cup on the table beside her. “I can handle it.”
We say goodnight, and I head on up without getting another glimpse of my favorite police officer. Every last part of me wants to send her a message, tell her how stunning she looks tonight, invite her up so we can talk about things.
Talk about things. What a joke. I hit the bed and close my eyes in an effort to ignore the tears as they beg to come. You can’t talk about things when they’re too close to home. Things are still happening around me, to me. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking coming to Whitney Briggs so close to home, so close to the nexus of the disaster.
Bryson and Owen bounce through my mind. There’s no way I ever want to have another run-in with either of them. Ava envelops my thoughts, and I press the pause button and linger. Now that’s one person I would never evict from my mind, from my life, from my bed.
Maybe I am glad I came to Briggs after all.
Sunday, Mom invites me out for a late lunch. Dad is out of town, and she said she’d like the company, so I head home. The last house on a cul-de-sac was a great place to grow up. Steph and I rode our bikes out in the street until well after dark. The basketball hoop Dad bought us when I was eight still stands prominent at the base of the sidewalk looking slouched and dejected from lack of good use.
“What’s up, old buddy?” I give it a tap as I head past it.
Mom’s car is tucked in the driveway, and I can hear the sound of Rusty barking up a storm from inside. I head around back and find Mom sitting on the veranda with a steaming glass of tea and a book nestled in her hands. “Mom.” I try to sound jovial and light despite the fact I’m experiencing one severe Ava hangover. I don’t know how much more of this silent treatment I can take.
Mom bounces out of her seat and lets out a yelp of enthusiasm that rivals anything Rusty is capable of. The scent of something meaty and delicious wafts from the opened slider door. Nobody knows their way around a kitchen like Mom. It makes coming home a mouthwatering event each and every time.
“Sweet Lord!” she trills. “Don’t give me a heart attack like that. I was listening for the door.”
“You were not,” I tease, snatching the book out of her hand. “Love in the Highlands.” I wave the tawdry novel in front of her as if it were evidence.
“Oh, sit down, you.” She snatches the book back and taps me over the head with it. “What’s new? How is school? I’ve got a little surprise brewing for you in”—she checks her watch—“just about half an hour.” She bites down on a smile as if it pained her not to blow it.
“Sounds good. I can use a surprise or two right about now.” I’m betting it’s that roast she’s got in the oven. My stomach growls just waiting for the time to tick by.
“You’ll get one all right.” She pinches my cheek extra hard while looking me over. My mother and her red Irish hair, her hazel eyes. Steph looked so much like Mom. In pictures at the same age, they could have passed for twins. I once told Steph that if she wanted to know what she would look like in thirty years, all she needed to do was look at Mom. Steph protested the idea, saying she would never cut her hair and sport the menopause bob. I laughed when she said it, and I didn’t even know what she meant at the time.
“So tell me, Mr. Hot Basketball Stuff”—she motions for me to take a seat next to her—“what’s going on at that school of yours?”
“I am hot stuff.” I give a little wink. “Not really. Everything on the court is going well, but everyone on the team is pretty good so it’s to be expected. We’ll be hard to beat, that’s for sure.”
“And off the court?” She t
icks her head to the side, honing that motherly intuition. She picks up the book and waves it at me. “What about the girls?” She offers a slight nod as if prodding me to say something she already knows.
Ava settles in my mind, in my heart with her ever-present beauty. “I think I’m feeling things.” And just like that, the granite wall that’s been holding me under begins to lift right off my chest.
“Feeling things?” She wiggles her fingers as if a ghost were in the vicinity, and oddly enough, I feel closest to Steph whenever I’m home so maybe there is. I’m hoping she’s here, listening. I’d love to tell her all about Ava. “So, does this special someone know about these feelings?”
Special someone. That describes Ava to a T.
“No, not yet. I just didn’t think I’d be ready to jump back into things so quickly.” I never did share with Mom about what transpired between Darcy and me—about the fact that we’ve demoted ourselves to a platonic level. We’ve been friends longer than we were anything else. “I thought I’d take a breather, but now that I’ve been around her, I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“Goodness!” She swats me with a tissue before blotting her eyes. “I knew it would happen. Nobody deserves to be happy more than you, Grant. Do you love her?”
“Love her?” That went quick. “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really thought about it like that.” Ava and that beautiful smile—my heart aches just knowing I’ve hurt her in some way. “I care about her deeply.” I’d say I love her, but I think I’d spook both my mother and me. “Very deeply. I’d like to see where things go.” There. I said it. “You’ve been married to Dad forever now. How do you know when you’ve met the right person?” I’m talking in generalities, but I can see the wedding bells in my mother’s eyes.
“Oh, honey!” Her body sags as the joy in her eyes soars. I can tell she’s holding back. She’s happy for me, and the only way she can express it is through tears. That’s been our insular go-to emotion ever since Steph died, so it makes sense. “How do you know?” She looks off in the distance as if collecting her thoughts. “Well, there’s the obvious—you want to be around that person day in and day out.” Her eyes meet up with mine. “But I think you’ll truly know you’re in love when you’re afraid of losing her.” She waves it off as quickly as she said it. “To someone else.”
I give a silent nod just thinking about how much it hurts to think of losing Ava. And to Rush? Could I handle that? Rush and I grew up together. He’s an extension of me at this point. Our shared childhoods, our shared losses. He’s my brother through and through. Could I ever really be happy for them? What if Rush wants that? What if Ava does?
Our conversation twists and turns until we’re shooting the breeze about Dad and his golf game when a light female voice calls from the side yard.
“Knock, knock!”
We turn at the same time, and I’m stunned to see Darcy staining the fence like a shadow.
Mom gives a spontaneous applause. “And here she is! The big surprise!”
Crap.
“Hope you don’t mind.” Darcy winces as if I might give her the boot.
“Not at all.” I’ve always said there’s everything to gain and nothing to lose by being friends. Only right now, I’m feeling a little less friendly and a little more like cutting my losses.
“Were your ears burning?” Mom sings as she ushers Darcy into the seat across from me. “Grant and I were just talking about you.”
“We were?” I stumble over my thoughts. Of course. Mom thinks the girl I’m having feelings toward is sitting in our midst. Shit.
The next few hours squeak by, but all I can think of, all I want to do, is be near Ava.
Another week drifts by with no sign of Ava. All of my texts go unanswered, all of my hopes shatter right along with them. Friday night, there’s a mixer at the frat house, and I happen to know that these kinds of events are mandatory for new pledges. And for the first time ever, I’m thankful Ava is a new pledge.
I take my time in the shower, put on my jeans and WB sweatshirt, not a suit like some of the guys will be wearing. That’s too uptight. Not a pop-up collar like Rush likes to sport. I need this to be casual. I need to be casual just to hold myself together while in the same room with her. One thing I know, this night isn’t ending without me laying it all on the line. I’m not sure what I’ll say when the time comes, but I’m hoping whatever it is it doesn’t send her running.
By the time I head downstairs, a fair amount of bodies are already circulating around the room. The girls look nice, most of them in dresses and heels, and now I’m rethinking this whole sweatshirt thing.
Lawson flags me over. “What’s with the face?” He tries to hand me a beer, but I don’t take it.
“No face—just looking.” I do a quick sweep of the room, and my eyes catch on a gorgeous brunette. That smile that’s bright enough to light up the night sky goes off, and both my heart and soul sink to my feet. She’s with him. Rush has his hands over her back, drifting lower as their conversation goes on. “Shit.”
“What?” He turns. “That?” He snorts over the mockery Rush is putting on. “Give him a break. The dude just wants to get laid. No point in busting his balls over it.”
I smack my hand into Lawson’s gut like a reflex. “Don’t talk like that.”
His beer sloshes as he takes a step back. “Relax, would you? You’re starting to take this sister crap a little too far.”
“Maybe I am.” The one thing I don’t take is my eyes off Ava and those slithering snakes attached to Rush. He’s touching, feeling, squeezing his way up and down her body like he’s giving her a medical exam. “Let’s head over and say hi.” I take a step, and Lawson pulls me back.
“No way. Let this one go. If she wanted you, she’d be here. Besides, you’re off the table. You signed up for this, remember?”
“I did. And you’re right. I guess she’s not interested in me.” Deep down, I don’t think that’s true. I think I’ve ticked her off, sent her packing without meaning to, and now the only thing I want is a moment alone with her.
The party ebbs on with its too loud music, its noisy howls of laughter as the smell of liquor mingles with the perfume and cologne. A few girls try to engage me in conversation, but I’m useless, watching Rush like a hawk in the event he tries something, wishing he would try something so I could rip his head right off the base of his neck.
Soon enough, Lawson is lost in a sea of girls, and I find myself drifting across the room. I can’t help it. I’m doomed to start something tonight. I was just hoping it might be with Ava.
“Whoa,” a female voice pulls me in from behind, and I turn to find Lucky standing there good and pissed. “Where’s the fire?”
“No fire.” I glance back at Rush just as he starts sniffing Ava’s neck, and I’m smelling smoke.
“Good, because I don’t want to see my best friend hurt.” She folds her arms across her chest as if her words were less of a warning and more of a threat. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like, I don’t know, call your girlfriend?”
Rush dive-bombs Ava’s neck, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s just sounded the alarm.
“Excuse me.” I take off, and Lucky follows on my heels.
I thread my way through the crowd, trying to keep track of the two of them in the murky lighting. Rush’s head moves nice and slow like he’s taking his time, but Ava keeps backing up, her hands pressed against his chest like she’s about to send him flying. I’d like to send him flying—right out the window.
Rush brushes those kisses across her collarbone, and all I see is red. I lunge at him just as a wall of bodies steps in to intercede.
“Shit, dude.” Lawson knots my shirt up in his hands. “You’re making a fucking scene.”
Both Ava and Rush look up, Ava with her mouth wide, her chest pumping as if she can’t catch her next breath. I’m hoping that’s because I’m here, and not the fact Rush has been peppering her with his kisses
.
Lucky steps in close to her best friend. “Don’t mind him. I think he’s had a little too much to drink. Lawson, why don’t you haul his ass out of here?”
Rush smirks as if agreeing with her. He looks right at me and says something with his eyes, something that screams watch this as he leans in toward Ava and lands his mouth far too close to hers. Ava leans back, she’s butted up against a table and can’t escape his clutches, so like the good big brother I am, I bust through Lawson’s hold and tackle Rush to the wall where the asshole belongs.
A choir of screams go off behind me as I give Rush a few swift fists to the gut and a knee to his ass before turning to find Ava gone.
“Where is she?”
Lucky seems just as lost as I am, craning her neck into the crowd, shouting Ava’s name.
Rush pulls me back and lands a blow to my jaw, and the room spins for a moment as I stagger back to my feet.
“We’ll finish this later.” I scramble the hell out the front door where the rain needles me hard and angry. “Ava!” I jog down to the street and spot a pair of heels pounding the sidewalk, running fast in the direction of Whitney Briggs.
I don’t bother to think about it, to rationalize what might be best—I bolt as fast as I can through the hurricane that’s taking over this town, pushing through a wall of water as if Olympic gold stood on the other side—but I know something better stands on the other side, and I’ll be damned if I let her go tonight.
“Ava!” I roar as I come up on her from behind, landing my arms around her as the water beats down from the sky like a torrent. “Don’t run, please,” I pant directly into her ear, and my lips graze over her slicked cheek.
She spins into me and gives a swift shove to my chest. Her face is red and swollen, and the crimson tracks in her eyes let me know she’s crying.
“Why didn’t you let me kiss him?” Her voice pitches as she screams, slapping me over the chest for good measure.
Stolen Kisses Page 10
