I breathed in through my nose. “You don’t even live here anymore, why are you getting numbers every single night?” But I knew the answer: to prove he could.
“Just because you don’t know how to have fun doesn’t mean the rest of us are ready to roll over and die.”
He was drunk, I reminded myself. He wasn’t totally responsible for the things he was saying. The poor word choice, given the reason we were in town in the first place, could be forgiven. But still, it rankled. Vince had changed so much after his motorcycle accident and I wasn’t talking about the physical. None of us could claim to know what it was like to lose a limb, to learn how to walk all over again. To endure the invasive questions and stares he always got.
Will had been better at managing Vince and his moods, but Will wasn’t here. And if I thought I could somehow forgive myself for bailing on Will, on that last trip, perhaps treating Vince with more empathy than I thought I possessed would be the way forward for me.
“I know how to have fun,” I told Vince, but the words sounded hollow even to me. Did I even know how to have fun anymore? It’d been years since I’d done anything truly spontaneous, anything noteworthy. Chad was married, had twins. Seth was getting married and had gotten a fucking kick ass job that enabled him to fund a crazy destination wedding. Vince still did daredevil shit, as if his accident hadn’t sobered him. As for me? I woke up, went to the gym, went to work, and then went home.
I thought of Will. He could make an adventure out of even the most trivial things. A trip to the gas station with Will always provided a memory that was worth holding onto. He was spontaneous, sure, but he was more than that—he really fucking lived his life.
I couldn’t say the same for myself.
Hell, the most exciting thing to happen to me in recent months was that all too brief interlude in the hallway outside of this bar with Tori two days before. Something about her had wiped whatever melancholy I’d been holding onto. It was like she’d known just how to pull me out of the funk I’d felt after listening to Will’s final voicemail on my phone. And I’d be a fucking liar if I pretended that I hadn’t looked at the doors each time they opened, hoping she’d walk in again. It was stupid, idiotic, that I hadn’t gotten her number. But I’d truly been so stunned by our interaction that it hadn’t occurred to me I might not see her again.
“Man, you just need to loosen up,” Vince said, placing his hands on my shoulders and shaking me hard enough that my skeleton rattled beneath my muscles. “Get out there, get laid. You haven’t forgotten how to do that, have you?”
“It’s like riding a bike,” I said with humor I didn’t completely feel.
“Yeah, exactly. Riding a bike. Once you take the training wheels off, it’s a little dicey, but then you get the hang of it and that shit works smoothly.”
“Sure,” I said, but my attention had turned to the other end of the bar where a group of familiar faces sat.
Had Tori been there for a while and I hadn’t noticed? Or had I conjured her? No, that was stupid. She wasn’t made of magic; she was wholly human, and she looked fucking phenomenal. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t going to let her leave this bar without trying to get her number, at the very least. I’d need to figure out how to prevent Vince from ordering another beer first.
“I’m beat,” I said, faking a yawn. “You beat, Vinny?”
“God, you’re such a grandpa.”
“I know,” I replied, because it was easier to agree with him than to argue. “How about this—I’ll pay your bill if we can get out of here sooner than later. What do you think?”
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Vince said, slurring his words. He raised his hand for the check and from behind him, I motioned for the bartender to combine them onto one. I turned my head, looking across the bar for Tori, but she had vacated her group. Strangely though, her friends were staring at me.
“Liam?”
Her voice.
I turned around, coming face to face with Tori. Jesus, I knew she was beautiful but up close like this, she was spectacular. The tiniest birth mark disappeared into her lone dimple as she smiled up at me.
“Tori,” I said like she was more familiar to me than she actually was.
“You remember my name.”
“It’s not every day that someone confesses their love for me,” I said, smiling back. It felt so easy to smile again.
“Who’s this?” Vince asked, turning, losing his balance, and falling back onto his stool.
“Tori, this is my friend Vince.”
“Vinny,” he said, giving her the wrong hand and then limply shaking her hand. “Who are you?”
“Tori,” I repeated to Vince and handed my credit card to the bartender.
“So, I am the victim of another dare,” Tori began, barely glancing at Vince.
“Ah.” I ran my tongue over my teeth.
“Which makes you a victim too. For a second time.”
“I didn’t feel so much like a victim the last time.” I leaned back against the bar, still grinning at her.
“You might change your mind,” she said, causing me to narrow my eyes in contemplation. Before I could ask what she meant, she stepped forward, her hands on the bar on either side of me—pinning me in place. She raised up on her tiptoes until we were inches apart. Her breath fluttered over my face and I lost all thought as her perfume hit me like a tidal wave. She smelled like warm roses, something vanilla-y. But I couldn’t think too much about that because before I could prepare myself, one soft hand slid behind my neck and then, most extraordinarily, her lips landed on mine.
Turns out I lied about her not being made of magic.
7
It seemed as if the moment our lips met, that moment ended all too soon. Still, as far as first kisses went, this one was top of the list. And I barely knew this guy. Maybe that was the appeal, after all. Maybe knowing too much about a guy was the deal-breaker for me.
I pulled away, my legs trembling, and opened my eyes to meet his surprised ones. His mouth was still in a pout from the kiss, and his eyes were all soft and smoky, like he was peering through darkness to see me. Like he had the power to. As if we’d met just like this a thousand times, and he intimately knew the language of seeing me. Truly seeing me. If I stared into the blue depths of his irises long enough, I just might believe that we’d met so many times. I never thought blue eyes could be warm until I looked into his.
My lips tingled from where they’d brushed against his stubble, a sensation I decided I liked very much. I resisted the urge to rub my hand over them, to see if that feeling could transfer to my fingertips, to let it spread like the wildfire that begged to unfurl across my skin.
It had only been maybe a handful of seconds since I’d pulled away, but the tension between us was thick like it’d been building for hours, rising and expanding in the little distance that separated us. Slowly, I slid my hand down his face, marveling in the sharp line of his jaw, and took a step back, giving me a chance to breathe in air that didn’t smell or taste like him.
All the while, he just studied me.
It was unsettling.
It was sexy.
It was a mistake.
Right? The fact that he wasn’t saying anything made me think there was some kind of problem. Maybe I’d crossed the line. He hadn’t worn a wedding ring—I’d checked. He didn’t look mad, but he looked intense in a way that made me squirm, a way that would unsettle even the most settled of souls.
“So, there’s that,” I said with a note of finality.
“There’s that,” he finally replied, his voice husky and dark like his eyes.
Why wasn’t he saying anything else? It perplexed me that he continued to stare with such intensity. Maybe I was intimidated? Is this what it felt like? When the sexual tension was so powerful you had to remind yourself to breathe, that life—however implausibly—existed outside of the bubble you were currently occupying?
Shit-balls, this was more than I had bargained for
when I’d agreed to this stupid dare.
I was about to return to the others when he stepped forward, bringing us chest to chest. My heart pattered, and I felt that surprised quick intake of air hiss through my lips as his arm slid around my back. His head descended and with his lips softly resting against mine, he uttered “My turn,” into my mouth before he claimed me as his in a way that was not nearly as gentle as those two words had been delivered.
Shit. If I thought that barely more-than-a-peck was something special, then this was fucking momentous. I needed to hold on to him, to make this last longer, so my arms slid around his neck and he leaned over me, his fingers tangling in my hair behind my back. He tugged lightly, causing me to release the softest moan into his mouth as his tongue grazed the seam of my lips, inviting himself in before I could say no. Not that I would have, holy Hannah.
This was what being kissed felt like. Not receiving a kiss as a noun but receiving it as a proper fucking verb. There was most definitely action to this kiss, an intention that made me lose my head and want to ride the feeling as long as I possibly could.
I angled my head so he could kiss me deeper, but instead he just teased my lip with his teeth, twirled my hair in his fingers, and rubbed a thumb up and down my spine before he let go.
“Whoa,” I said when I caught my breath. He still held me with one hand behind my back, as if he was afraid I’d fall. To be honest, I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t collapse at his feet. My legs were like unsteady toothpicks just then, as if he’d liquified all the muscles in my body. Warmth spread from my head all the way to my toes and I couldn’t blame it on the Vegas heat.
“Yeah,” he said, running that same thumb up and down my spine.
“Who is this?” his friend Vince asked, interrupting our interlude.
“This is Tori,” Liam said, not taking his eyes off of me.
“You’re not letting go of me,” I said, not knowing why I made such a statement. It wasn’t like I wanted him to let go—hell to the no. But it surprised me nonetheless. This was supposed to be a simple dare: kiss a stranger in a bar. But Liam felt less like a stranger and more like someone I wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
“Do you want me to?”
“No.”
“We are in agreement then,” he said, and reached around to sign the check the bartender had deposited for him. After signing, he looked at Vince once and then leaned into me. I thought he was going to kiss me again, so my eyes closed but his lips found their way to my ear.
“I’ve got to get my buddy to his room. Walk with me?”
I could only nod. Holy shit. Was I going to go to his room after this? Was that what I’d agreed to? Granted, I’d gone to a guy’s room after knowing him about as long as I knew Liam, but I wasn’t ready to get down and dirty just yet. He unsettled me in the most delicious way, as evidenced by the way he looked at me as we led his friend out the door and to the bank of elevators I’d seen him disappear behind the day before, but I wasn’t eager for the thrill to end.
“That doesn’t count!” Katy screeched from behind us, interrupting the seriously intense eye contact Liam and I were maintaining. We both looked over our shoulder at her and Bekka who stood just outside of the bar. “You know him!”
“Uh.” Technically she was right; I knew Liam’s name before I kissed him. But he was also still a stranger. “Not really…” Liam’s arm didn’t leave from around my waist.
“You have to do the other dare then,” she added.
“The other dare?” Liam whispered to me.
“No, I don’t,” I said, trying not to feel guilty at Bekka’s face falling.
“What’s the other dare?” Liam asked, this time loud enough for Katy to hear.
“She was dared to marry a stranger,” Katy said, looking so fucking confident that this would scare Liam away. In truth, he was a stranger—he could very well be scared away by these kinds of shenanigans. A random kiss in a bar was one thing; a fake wedding was entirely another.
“Not a real marriage,” Bekka added. “Just like one of those cliché ceremonies. With the fake Elvis or whatever. Just for photos”
But Liam surprised me, pausing to look between Katy and me for a moment as he considered this dare. “Well, am I a stranger or does she know me?”
Katy's eyes looked as big as the fucking moon. Bekka looked pleased and shocked and as for me? Well, I think my feet had glued themselves to the carpet and maybe I’d also accidentally swallowed my tongue. What did he mean by that?
“You’re a stranger,” Bekka said when Katy hadn’t said a single thing. “So, you’ll do.”
“I’ll do,” Liam said, and nodded as if he was still considering. The elevator doors opened, and Vince stumbled inside. “We’ll be back in a minute.” At some point, his hand had traveled away from my back to clasp mine. He led me into the elevator and pressed a button.
“Where are you going?” Katy asked, but the doors closed before we could answer. Not that I would’ve, anyway. It gave me a lot of satisfaction that she didn’t know. Miss control freak had to sit on her ass and wait for our return in a minute, according to Liam. Which meant we weren’t going back to Liam’s room.
Part of me was grateful for that and maybe a slightly bigger part of me was bummed. Slightly.
“You actually agreed to that dare?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I wouldn’t call it agree as much as I was coerced into it. Kissing a stranger was my compromise.”
“Can’t say I’m upset by that compromise,” he said, bringing our clasped hands to his mouth, making eye contact as he landed a kiss on my knuckles. I wondered how dirty my hand would get if I just never washed that area ever again.
“Can’t say I am either,” I said.
“What are you guys even talking about?” Vince asked from behind us. It had been easy to forget about him for the moment, but as he stumbled loudly into the glass wall, Liam had to let go of me to stabilize him. Vince was clearly drunk and halfway to a deep sleep even while standing upright. Which was impressive, if you thought about it.
“Nothing. We’re going to get you to bed.”
“Who? You and hoozie-boozie?” Vince asked, dangling his fingers in my direction.
“Hoozie-boozie?” I mouthed at Liam. He just shook his head.
“He calls everyone whose name he forgets ‘hoozie-boozie’.”
“Yeah.” Vince had a sudden moment of lucidity as his eyes snapped open and he looked right at me. “Who are you?”
I started to repeat my name, but he mumbled “hoozie-boozie” again before his eyes slid closed once more.
The elevator dinged, announcing our arrival to the sixteenth floor. “Give me his key,” I said, holding my hand out.
Liam didn’t hesitate, placing the keycard in my hand as he used his other arm to support Vince under his shoulders. “1643,” he said without me asking for the number.
I led the way down the left hallway. Of course, his room had to be one of the furthest from the elevators, but after a few momentary breaks in the hallway where Liam gave me half smiles as he shushed and supported Vince against the wall, getting better footing to push him further, we made it to Vince’s room. I slid the key in the lock and opened the door for Liam to lead Vince through and to the bed.
Vince fell backward onto the bed, causing it to creak loudly in the otherwise silent room. Liam and I exchanged glances, both of us muffling laughter. Liam removed Vince’s shoes and then turned to me.
I expected that to be it, but Liam didn’t look in a hurry to leave just yet. “I’ve got to take his pants off,” he said like that was a totally normal thing to say about your friend.
“Uh…”
“He has a prosthetic leg; he can’t sleep while wearing it.”
At that, I knew my eyes grew wide. "Do you need help?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.”
“Vince,” Liam said, leaning over him and patting his cheek. “Tori a
nd I are going to remove your pants to get your leg off.”
“She’s pretty,” Vince said, looking at me out of one eye. “You got to her before I could.”
Liam glanced at me, giving me a smile that warmed me all the way to the tips of my toes. “She is pretty. She’s going to pull your jeans off while I lift your hips, okay?”
Vince mumbled his agreement and we set to work. Liam thankfully had already unbuttoned his pants, so when I took the hem of his pant and started tugging, they rolled off his hips easily. Liam lifted Vince like it was no sweat, and I wondered just how muscular he was under his blue long-sleeve shirt. And maybe under his pants, too.
Once the pants were off, Liam pressed and held something on the top of the prosthetic and then wiggled it off his leg. I decided to turn away then—one, because it felt pretty private and two, because Vince was in his American flag boxer briefs and if I’d traded places with him, I wouldn’t want some stranger staring at me in my patriotic undies.
There was some quiet rustling behind me. “All done,” Liam said, and I turned around, seeing that he’d moved Vince so his legs no longer hung off the bed and so that he was safely ensconced in the covers.
“Tucked him in?” I asked, noting the depressions of the comforter at Vince’s sides.
“Everything but the bedtime story.” Liam glanced at Vince and then at me. I wonder if he was feeling like I was: which was a great multitude of things. It was our first time alone—without my friends egging me on and without Vince sleepily adding commentary. Vince let out a snore and both of us laughed.
“Shall we return you to your friends?” he asked, holding out a hand for me.
No, no. I wasn’t ready to go back to them, especially if that meant saying goodbye to Liam for a second time.
“Do we have to?” I asked.
8
I stepped toward her and took her hand in mine. The moment was more intimate than it deserved to be, as we stood in Vince’s dark hotel room, the quiet lull of his snoring our soundtrack. “You don’t want to go back to them?”
One Little Dare Page 6
