by TARA GALLINA
"Hey! I can hear and see you," Harper shouts from the sectional on the other side of the room. Nathan’s sitting on the ottoman, his focus on the large movie screen. Riley sits beside him, equally engrossed. A pretty brunette I don't recognize is reclined beside Harper with another guy on the girl's left, his arm around her shoulder.
Harper stands and says to Marcus, "If you're going to describe me, at least get it right." She rounds her arms like he did, making her bust much larger than it is, and winks at him.
Marcus cracks up and shakes his head. "That one is trouble." He returns to playing pool with Aiden and glances at the game on the screen when Nathan cheers.
Harper waves me over to the sectional. "Come sit by me." She pats the sliver of couch left between her and the brunette. "Get a shot first. They're so good. You have to try them."
Brenton points them out on the bar in the back corner. "There's beer too if you'd rather have that." He takes one from the mini fridge.
I scrunch my nose. "I'm not a big fan of beer. Too fizzy, and the taste doesn't do it for me. It's not sweet."
He chuckles and takes a pitcher filled with creamy liquid from the fridge. "Can you grab one of those for me?" He points to a row of shot glasses lined on a shelf.
"Sure. But I can pour it myself. You don't have to serve me." I shoo him away.
He takes the glass and stands his ground, that easy smile on his face. "It's not like it's hard."
"Thank you then." I glance back at Harper. She seems so at home here. It's different, nice different. I’m happy for her, and I'm only a teeny bit jealous. One day, I'd like to have the kind of comfort she's found with Nathan.
He jumps up, cheers loudly, then pats her knee. "Did you see that, baby?"
She nods, though I'm not sure she was paying attention. Before settling back on the ottoman, he draws her in for a lingering kiss, and I swear she melts against him. Harper has never melted into anyone. Does that mean she's settling down for once in her life? Nathan is a good guy, a great match for her.
A slight sting appears in my eyes, and I can't believe I'm tearing up? My emotions are still all over. That's why I need alcohol. So I can forget.
"Ainsley?" Brenton nudges my arm and hands me a shot glass filled to the brim.
I take it, eager for the warmth and ease the drink will provide. "Thank you."
He shrugs like it's no big deal. "I kept the pitcher out in case you want another." He gestures to it on the bar top.
"Oh, I will." Can I sound any more like a lush?
"Have you ever had one of Riley's shots?"
"Only the Jell-O ones but they're amazing, which is a serious talent since it's Jell-O."
He laughs at my joke. So easy. "You'll love this then. He's a master mixer. He filled this little sweet treat with vodka, Irish cream, butterscotch schnapps, and coffee liqueur."
"That's a lot of alcohol." I hope I don't throw up. I bring the drink to my nose for a sniff. Yowzas. That smells good. Sugary, like candy butterscotch. I down the shot. Mmm. Delicious. I lick the sweetness from my lips and shout across the room, "Are you kidding me, Riley? That was the best thing I've ever tasted, like a dessert. You should open a bar, because wow. I just had a mouthgasm."
His face brightens.
I can't believe I said that out loud.
Harper hoots. "You know I love it when you talk dirty, Ains."
Nathan blinks wide, an odd expression on his face. "Hey. I didn't know you were coming."
This is new. Is he mad at me? Did Sebastian tell him about today?
I give him an awkward wave. All eyes are on me now. My body temperature spikes to an uncomfortable level, either from my nerves or the alcohol. Could be from both.
Riley nods over my shoulder to Brenton, who's standing behind me. "Have my man give you another."
"Already on it." Brenton holds my newly refilled shot glass. "One more mouthgasm coming up."
I smirk up at him. "If I do another, you have to do one with me."
"Sure," he agrees in the casual way he does everything. A girl could get used to this. Instead of asking me to get him a glass, he leans close and reaches around me to get one himself. His soapy smell surrounds me as he peers down with eyes hinting desire.
Oh my. I wait for the same zing I feel when Sebastian is close. It never comes.
Brenton straightens, fills his glass, and holds it up. "To Goldilocks and the three bears, sex-kittens, and red Doc Martins. Did I leave anything out?"
I lift my glass to his. "And to Tommy Hilfiger models." Then, I down the shot before he can ask me what I mean.
Chapter 14
AFTER ONE MORE shot—or is it two—I decide not to sit on the couch with Harper. My insides feel like warm goo, and my emotions have floated away on a stream of sweet buttery nipples. My new favorite shot.
If I were to sit down, I'd fall into a heavenly slumber where problems don't exist and miss all the fun, which is why I’m playing pool with Marcus and Aiden instead of sitting with Harper on the couch.
Brenton is on my team. It’s clear we're going to lose because of me. I suck. "Come on, Tommy." I pat his muscular arm. "Sink this one for the team."
"You do know his name is Brenton?" Marcus quirks a dark brow at me.
I giggle. "Yesss. I know that, but I've a secret nickname for him I came up with when he got here—me. I mean, I. When I got here." Am I swaying or is the room tilting?
"It's not a secret if we all know it." Marcus leans on his stick.
"The meanings what's secret." I stumble into Riley and curse. "Did I just screw up your buttery nipple?" I laugh. "See what I did there with the shword-shw. Shwot. Word."
"Dude, she's wasted," Aiden says to Marcus. He takes my stick away, which I'm using for balance, and leans me against Brenton. "Maybe you should take her to lie down."
"Yeah. I guess I should." Brenton slides his hands around my waist.
It's the first time he's touched me intimately, and while I like it, it's nothing like the scorching touch of Sebastian's hands on my body.
"Harper?" He calls out to her.
She's on Nathan's lap—who's taken her spot on the couch—wrapped up in his arms. One glance at me and she shakes her head. "Good Lord. She's tanked. How many shots did she have?"
"Three or four."
"Ainsley!" she scolds. "I told you they were filled with alcohol. Two would have been more than enough."
"Want me to put her in a room? She can barely stand," Brenton says, holding me against his body.
"I'm wobbly. So what? Why are you talking about me like I’msa child? I’m not tired." I frown.
She rolls her eyes. "Put her in Nathan's bed. And put a trashcan next to her in case she has to puke."
"Got it. Come on, Goldi. Let's get you to bed." Brenton keeps me against him and walks us to the door and out of the room.
I let him guide me but only because I'm too weak to fight him. "I am not tried. Tired," I correct.
"That's okay. You don't have to sleep. You can play on your phone." He keeps moving me—us—toward Nathan's bedroom.
We pass Sebastian's door. It's open. I halt—well, I try to. "Wait." I stumble and turn, reaching for the doorframe. "Igotta talk to him."
"I don't think he likes to be bothered," Brenton says, holding my waist so I don't fall over.
"You don't mind being bothered. Right?" I twist in his arms, putting us chest to chest and hook my hands around his neck.
His deep blue eyes peer down at me. "You can bother me anytime, when you're sober."
"You are sosweet. Swhy can't I like someones like you?"
"What was that?" He grins.
"She said 'why can't she like someone like you?'" Sebastian's voice draws my gaze to the right. He stands by the entrance to his room, his sculpted arms crossed over his chest, his lips pressed in a hard line.
Damn. His angry expression and all black outfit make him look sexy as hell. "Hey?" I say with surprise. "You're wearing jeans." I point at them, but
my finger bumps his crotch. Whoops. I snicker. My bad.
"What are you doing?" He levels his eyes on Brenton.
The poor guy tenses, his body hardening like a rock.
Before Brenton can respond, I say, "He's taking me to bed." My head lolls back when I try to look up at Brenton's face.
"I’m just escorting her there," he adds.
I point at Sebastian, again, and this time accidentally poke him in the chest. "He's a fraidy-cat." I let out a giggle that sounds like a long snort. "Isn't that funny. Big bad Sinbad's a fraidy-cat."
"Sinbad?" Brenton asks, growing tenser.
"It doesn't matter." I rest my hand on Brenton's chest and close my eyes, a little dizzy.
"How much did she drink?" Sebastian asks, his woodsy-spice scent drifting toward me.
"A few shots," Brenton answers. "Harper asked me to put her in Nathan's room."
“More shots?” I lift my head. "Yes, please. I love buttery nipples." I crack up. "Nipples. Like nipples," I say to Sebastian and rub one of mine. "Remember these?"
Brenton sucks in a breath, his body like a cement pole. "Are you two…? Shit. I didn't know."
"We're not," Sebastian says, his tone like a cracking whip.
Tears burn my eyes. "You're so mean." I scowl at him and push away from Brenton, stumbling a little before catching myself on the wall. If I’m right, Nathan's door is the next one. I walk—stagger—using the wall as support until I reach the entrance. Before going inside, I shoot Sebastian a death-glare. "Just so you know, these buttery nipples—"I point to my breasts"—will never be yours again."
On that non-slurring note, I round the doorframe to Nathan's room and fall flat on my face.
Ow. My nose throbs. I touch it to feel for blood, surprised to find my hand already between my face and the floor. Did I catch myself? How's that for reflexes? I roll onto my back on the plush carpet. Comfy. I could sleep here.
A dark figure appears in the doorway.
"Brenton?"
"Sebastian."
I scowl and roll onto my side, giving him my back. "Go away."
"Why are you so drunk?" he asks, sounding closer.
"Leave me alone."
"Did you do this because of me?"
"Pfft." I roll onto my back and find him squatting beside me. "Don't flatteryourself. I don't like you anymore."
"So, that'd be a no on the buttery nipple shots from your sweet breasts?"
"I’m sure you have plenty other breasts to choose from." I turn away again, tired of talking. Talking is too hard. Sleep sounds good.
"Come on, Ainsley." Sebastian reaches under my body and lifts me up, cradling me to him.
"Leave me. I’m tired." I wiggle to get free, but there's no strength to my movements.
"I'm not leaving you to sleep on the floor."
"Then putme in the bed." I rest my head against his chest, only because it's close and supportive, not because it's warm and smells like heaven.
"I am."
"In Nathan's bed," I clarify, my eyes closing with the gentle sway of his steps.
"In mine."
"I’m not yours."
"I know." Sadness fills his voice.
I try not to care. I don't care. He made it clear we're nothing, even though I knew that when I got involved with him. Do I have the right to be mad at him for stating a fact? Yes. Do I have the right to keep parts of my body from his access even if I don't want to? Yes.
"Sebastian. I’m tired. Just leave me." Being this close to him won't help me get over my crush.
"I keep trying to, believe me I do." He lowers me onto a soft mattress. His. I know the scent and feel. I love it and hate it.
I snuggle into the pillow, wishing he'd curl around me. He doesn't.
Fingers brush my hair behind my ear. Soft lips touch my cheek. "Sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
Chapter 15
VOICES STIR ME awake.
"He wants to meet," a guy says. "Just to talk. No pressure."
Someone scoffs. Sebastian, I think. "Everything about this is pressure."
"I now but it's the right thing to do," the other guy says. "He probably needs to see you face-to-face to confirm you're serious. Going through me isn't as solid. It's a risk but he won't agree to anything without a meeting a first."
"I understand but I can't agree. Not without something more concrete from him."
"What if I can set up a facetime or something? Would you do that?"
"I don't know." Sebastian sounds stressed.
"It's your call, but if it's worth anything, I think you should do it. Carlos thinks you should too. I know she thinks you should."
"She doesn't know anything yet," Sebastian hisses.
"You need to make up your mind, especially about her. You don't know what you want to do about her, but she's here. In your bed." The guys voice tightens. Nathan?
"That's not of your business," Sebastian he fires back.
Testosterone builds in the air. I tense but don't move for fear they'll know I can hear them. If only I'd fallen asleep facing the other way. I could have had a clear view—of their shadows, but still.
A heavy sigh. "I don't know how things got so screwed up so quickly." Regret sounds in Sebastian's tone.
"Maybe it's good that they did or else we wouldn't be here. You never would have considered this before. Think about it. Let me know." Footsteps patter down the wooden staircase and the door at the bottom opens and closes with a soft thud.
I want to ask who the guy was and what they were talking about, but that would give my eavesdropping away. I also want to thank Sebastian for tucking me into this bed and apologize for the way I acted.
Now that alcohol isn't fuzzying-up my head, I feel like an ass. Worst drunk ever. I should feel sick to my stomach. Three shots took me out. All I have is a mild headache behind my eyes and a serious dry mouth. I wish I knew what time it is. Other than the night sky visible outside the window above the bed, I have no clue. Three in the morning? Four?
Forget this, I need water and a toothbrush if I can find one. I roll onto my back and sit up slowly. Light from the TV flickers in the room. I don't see Sebastian. Did he leave with the guy? I could have sworn I heard only one set of footsteps on the stairs.
When I stand, two things become clear. My hair falls around me, no longer in the high ponytail, and my shirt and shoes are missing, leaving me in my cropped tank top and cut-off jean shorts.
Chills rattle my body as I teeter around the bed. "Sebastian?" I whisper.
Is that running water? Light shines from under a door on the far side of the room, near the stairs. I'd always thought the door led to a closet or an unfinished part of the attic. It sounds like the water is coming from in there. Could it be a bathroom?
As I approach, steamy air seeps through the cracks of the doors, warming me. I relax with an exhale and inch closer, listening. Water no longer sounds from the other side, but I'm convinced it is a bathroom.
I'm about to knock when the door opens. A misty cloud smelling of soap wafts over me. When it fades, Sebastian is there. His damp hair hangs around his face. Thick lashes glisten and drops of water speckle his skin, a few running down his sculpted bare chest.
I gulp, surprised my tongue isn't hanging out of my mouth.
A white towel is wrapped around the bottom half of his incredible body.
"You're awake?" he says with surprise. "Do you feel sick?" He opens the door wider so I can enter.
"Sick? No." My head doesn't even hurt anymore, although other parts of me are suddenly throbbing. "Aren't you cold?" I ask, noticing his puckered nipples. "It's cold out here."
"It's warm in here." He steps back. "You can shower if you want to."
I shuffle forward and sigh as humid air caresses my skin.
The bathroom is small but updated. A pedestal sink, stand-up shower, and toilet, the theme black and white.
Sebastian points to a narrow closet door. "The towels are in there."
&n
bsp; "Thanks."
He grabs a hand towel from the counter and runs it over his head, drying his hair a little more.
His biceps curl with the movements and his abs flex and unflex.
Has there ever been a more beautiful sight? I'm staring, possibly drooling, and I don't care. The few guys I dated did not have bodies like Sebastian.
He tosses the towel in a wicker hamper and turns to me. I don't even bother to scoop my jaw from the floor. He knows he's amazing, and he knows I think he's amazing too.
A pleased grin curls his lips. His tongue peeks out and gives them a lick.
Desire rolls through me and I wet my lips in response. What is it about him that turns me into a hormonal hot mess, incapable of rational thoughts? I see, and I want.
"Sebastian?" My voice is a weak rasp.
His luminous eyes lock on mine. "Yes?"
"You should go out there." Before I attack.
His mouth lifts higher on one side. "Whatever you want."
What I want is us in that shower. What comes afterward—his rejection and reminder we have no future—I don't want. Guess I'm not as far gone for him as I thought. Self-preservation and all.
"I won't be long," I force myself to say.
He takes the hint and leaves the bathroom.
I sag against the wall and inhale deep breaths until my body calms and my mind regains full control.
He's not for me. I repeat that thought as I rummage through the linen closet for a spare toothbrush. When I can't find one, I decide Sebastian's will do and try extra hard not to focus on how it might have just been in his mouth, brushing his tongue.
Pathetic.
I turn on the shower and check for conditioner, a must with my hair. Only shampoo. I twist the thick waves into a knot on top of my head and step into the hot water. Nothing has ever felt so good. Well, a few things do, and they involve Sebastian.
Images of him in here with me flood my mind. What would we have done? What would he have done to me? Things I would love, I'm sure. It would’ve been my first shower with a guy.
It would have been perfect because it would have been with Sebastian. My attraction to him is more than physical, and that's the major problem. I care about him, his future, his hopes and dreams, his heartache and pain, and his happiness.
