by Staci Hart
“Son of a bitch.” I hissed, but I didn’t stop walking, just charged on. The damage was done, and I had nowhere to put poor Casey.
“What’s wrong?” Cam asked, alarmed.
“I’ve got piss on me.”
“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice flat.
Tracey laughed, then hiccuped, skidding to a halt as she burped up a mouthful. It hit Cam’s shoes with a splat. Tracey’s eyes were huge and horrified. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”
Just when I expected Cam to lose her shit, a laugh burst out of her. It was a deep belly laugh, and her face scrunched up as she paused and bent over, hinging Tracey with her.
I’d stopped and walked back to meet her, unsure what I was dealing with. “Are you okay?”
She put up her hand and swiped it back and forth, head hanging as she laughed and laughed. “I just … I can’t. It’s too much."
I found myself smiling, fighting back laughter. “I’m not counting this as a date.”
Cam stood back up, face red as she blew out a breath and shifted to get a good hold of Tracey. “Oh, I am. I so am. Come on, Tracey. Let’s get some food in you.”
“Pizza sounds good,” she swooned.
“Pizza does sound good,” Cam answered with a laugh.
When we found Kyle’s Escalade, he got out, looking at the four of us like we were crazy. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I threw up,” Tracey said.
He assessed us all. “What’s all over you, Knight? Is that … is that piss?” His face wrenched, disgusted.
I opened his door and laid Casey into the back seat. “Sure is.”
“Whoa, whoa, man. This is brand new.”
I spun around, fuming. “What the fuck do you suggest? That we just leave them here? Put them in a cab and hope they make it home okay? These girls are here because of you, and we’ve been taking care of them all day. I don’t give a fuck about your leather seats or if you get puke on your floorboards. We’re taking these girls home and making sure they get there safe.”
Kyle held up his hands. “You’re right, man. It’s cool, God. Just let me get some towels.”
My jaw flexed, my eyes following him as he scrambled to the back, returning with towels. I held out a hand for one, but he walked right past me and to the car, wiping off the seat before laying a fresh towel under her. He tossed another one to Cam. “Will you clean her up, please?”
Cam didn’t answer, but she did as he asked, for Tracey, not for Kyle. I knew by the hairy eyeball she shot at him that she was having none of his bullshit.
I pulled off my shirt and wiped my chest and arm off with it, and when I looked back at Cam, she was paused, towel in hand, looking at me like a popsicle on a summer day. I smirked and made my way over to help her get Tracey in the front seat as Kyle fussed around his SUV, adjusting the seats and laying towels, producing a plastic bag out of thin air for Tracey. Then Cam and I climbed into the third row, maneuvering around snoring Casey.
Kyle rolled the windows down. “You guys smell like shit.”
“That’s actually the only bodily fluid that we don’t smell like,” Cam shot as she buckled her seatbelt.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I threw up,” Tracey said.
“Yeah, I heard.” Kyle’s voice was flat as he rolled down the windows.
“The girls had a little too much to drink.” I settled back into the seat, and Cam and I shared a look.
Kyle shook his head with a frustrated sigh. “I can see that. Why didn’t you take better care of them?”
My eyes narrowed, and I glared at him in the rearview. “Because they’re fucking grown women, and I’m not a babysitter.”
Cam scowled. “And anyway, we did take care of them.”
Kyle scoffed. “No, you lost one and the other one’s about to puke in my brand new Cadillac.”
“Hey, man,” I shot. “Watch your shit, okay? I’m the one who just carried one of them out of a football stadium, not you.”
“Whatever,” Kyle said, pouting. “We’re all tired and pissed off, okay?”
Cam’s scowl disappeared as she leaned into me. “No, you’re pissed on.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “And you’re puked on.”
“What a pair,” she said, smiling up at me.
And all I could do was kiss her.
13
CLARK KENT NEVER WINS
Cam
KYLE WAS RIGHT, WE REALLY did smell terrible.
We made it across Jersey and back into Manhattan with Tracey only vomiting once more. Kyle made a show of it, and I really, really hoped there was some errant corn under the seat that could cook up and get nice and smelly just for him.
Tyler sat next to me, shirtless and beautiful, hair ruffled by the wind from the open windows. He held my hand in his lap, playing with my fingers as we sang along to Kyle’s music, too loud and too silly. He’d turned up the radio almost immediately once we got on the road — he was sulking pretty hard. Not only were his twins ruined for the night, but they’d stunk up his car. The asshole hadn’t even thanked us, not that we did any of it to help him. Because fuck him.
When we made it to the girls’ apartment, the guys helped them inside, Tyler carrying Casey — he’d already been marked, he said — and Kyle was the first one back in the car.
He turned, leaning on the arm rest to look back at me, his intentions hidden, though his cool, blue eyes glinted like metal. “What’s with you and Tyler?”
I shrugged and played dumb. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He smirked. “Yeah, you do. Did you sleep with him?”
My eyes narrowed. “Fuck you, Kyle.”
He put up his hands. “Hey, I don’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about him, you know? Like, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, if he’s having a breakdown or something, because you’re not his type. You’re the last person he would date, under normal circumstances. So I’m just trying to figure out if he’s okay, that’s all.”
My cheeks flushed from the shame of his words. “Aren’t you a hero.”
“I can be. I mean, I get what he sees in you, you know? You’re a good girl, and you’re all about him. It’s sweet. Doesn’t help that you’re pretty. You look good in a Giants jersey.” He had on sunglasses, but I could feel his eyes on me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, uncertain what else to say.
Tyler opened the door and climbed into the middle row, putting the seat down to let me up. I settled in next to him, hoping we were going home.
Kyle turned around and started the car. “The guys are meeting up at a bar, which was where I was supposed to take the twins. You guys still want to come?”
“I think we’re ready to get home and shower the day off,” Tyler said, and I gave him a look that I hoped told him how much I would thank him for that later.
He shrugged and gave us a sour, one-word answer: “Whatever.”
It wasn’t long before we were finally home — I even found it in my heart to thank Kyle for the tickets and the ride, even though I felt like keying his car just for being a douchelord. And the second he drove away, I felt a thousand times better.
We passed Mrs. Frank and Kafka in the entry, checking her mail. She beamed at us when she saw we were holding hands, winking at me after she took a second to note Tyler’s shirtlessness.
I sighed as we walked up the stairs.
“I feel the same way,” Tyler said.
“I just want a shower and pajamas, stat.”
“You take it first,” he offered.
“No, you go. Your showers are quicker, and you got peed on.”
He chuckled. “All right, if you insist.”
We rounded the landing. “Sometimes I wonder why you hang out with Kyle.”
He blew out a breath. “Sometimes I wonder the same thing. I mean, today was especially bad, since his plans to bang a set of blond twins were foiled.”
A laugh burst out of
me. “I just pictured Kyle in a top hat and monocle grumbling, Foiled again!”
Tyler unlocked the door, chuckling. “He’s so pissed.”
“And he didn’t even get pissed on.”
He snorted. “If only he had, though. Can you imagine how mad he would have been?”
“Yes, and I would pay good money to witness it.”
We walked inside and I clicked on the lights, moving straight to the bathroom to swap out my sunglasses for my actual glasses. He walked in behind me, smiling at me in the mirror, pee shirt still hanging over his naked shoulder.
“You sure you don’t want to go first?”
I smiled back. “I’m sure.”
“All right,” he said, bending to lay a quick peck on my lips, and I made my way out as he turned on the shower.
Within thirty seconds, my thoughts had run completely away. Everything that had happened between us clattered through my brain like a freight train.
It all started with Kyle.
I replayed our exchange in the car, hearing his words. You’re the last person he’d date. And he was right. Why would Tyler really want anything to do with me? I’d been through this before, but losing Tyler would be a thousand times harder than what happened with Will and I.
We were in a vacuum, an insulated bubble, holding reality at bay. I felt the speed at which we were moving, even though we weren’t moving physically fast. My heart was already his, and I wondered how much of him wanting me was just the newness, the excitement of knowing that I wanted him that fueled his need to be near me.
Maybe when we went back to our lives, it would just disappear. Evaporate. And then where would we be?
I tried to shake off the anxiety, but in the five minutes it took him to shower, I’d wound myself up like a pair of gag teeth. When he walked out of the shower in nothing but a towel and a smile, that puff of steam behind him like I’d seen a million times, I thought my ribcage might explode. When he bent down to kiss me on the way to his room and I felt the steam rolling off of him, what was left of my heart stopped. And when I walked into the bathroom to shower myself, I was certain the whole thing was inches away from imploding.
It couldn’t be real, I told myself as I stepped into the steaming shower. Kyle had said it right — You’re the last person he’d date. We weren’t a good match. We didn’t make any sense. None. It didn’t matter that I wanted to be with him. We were doomed from the start.
He’d regret being with a girl like me. I knew it as deeply as I knew my store, the bar, my comics. I was a Clark Kent with no other stronger self to redeem me. And he was the Lois Lane, the beautiful, unattainable one who needed someone larger than life. Clark didn’t have it in him to be with Lois. Only Superman.
But I was no Superman.
I felt a little shaky as I exited the shower, drying my hair with a towel, drying my body, my heart too soaked to break.
Tyler glanced at me over his shoulder as I walked out. He smiled, and I tried to return it, but it felt wrong, betraying my fears. Before he could notice, I ducked into my room and closed the door to dress mindlessly. Leggings. My Batgirl T-shirt. Taco socks. Then I took a deep breath and stepped out to face the music.
A book lay split open in his lap, and I smiled as I sat next to him, my back against the arm so I could face him.
“You’re reading,” I said, not ready to face the truth.
He nodded and closed the book to look at the cover. He held it up in display, though I’d known what it was the second I saw him holding it.
The Hobbit.
My chest ached at the smile on his face as he looked at the cover. “You said the other day that it was the book that turned you into a reader, so I thought it could do the same for me. I found it on the shelf the other day, and when I started it …” He met my eyes. “Why didn’t you ever give it to me before?”
“Because I was afraid you’d hate it,” I answered honestly.
“I don’t hate it. Cam, I love it. It’s brilliant.”
“Kiss me,” I said, not wanting to think about the reasons we were the same or different, only wanting to feel his lips against mine.
He smiled and leaned in, cupping my neck. “Anything you want.”
I pulled in a breath through my nose as our lips met, the clean smell of him working its way through me as our mouths moved together with ease, like they knew what to do, fitting together effortlessly.
I couldn’t figure out how it could feel so right and still be wrong.
You’re the last person he’d date.
I broke away, laid a hand on his chest. “Tyler …”
His thumb grazed my collarbone, and I hung my free hand on his forearm. “What?”
“I … I don’t know if this is right.”
Worry passed across his face, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … we’re so different.” I struggled to find the words. “We come from different places, different worlds. I’ve never been with anyone like you before.”
“I’ve never been with anyone like you, either.” He smiled, thumb shifting against my skin. “And I feel more at home than I have in a long time.”
I shook my head, unwilling to let myself believe it was true, repeating Kyle’s words aloud. “I’m the last person you’d usually date.”
“And that’s my mistake. I’ve been looking in the wrong place all along.” His eyes searched mine. “What’s this really about, Cam?”
“What if tomorrow, whatever this is between us is gone? What if it’s just … I don’t know. A mirage. What if you’re just drunk on me? What if when you sober up you don’t want me anymore?”
“And what if it’s not? Do you think I’m not sincere? Don’t you trust me?”
I squeezed his arm. “Of course I trust you, but I’m not your type. I’m not the girl who can rub elbows with important people or get along with guys like Kyle just because I have to. I’m not the girl with mile-long legs and a closet full of designer dresses who spends her nights going to parties and clubs.”
He frowned. “None of that means anything to me.”
But I just kept talking. “I’m not the popular girl. I’m not the cheerleader, and that’s who guys like you end up with, not the drama girls or the band nerds.”
“Cam—”
“No. I’m not the kind of girl you normally go after, and I think that’s a sign that this isn’t right for you. I don’t want you to wake up one day wondering how you got stuck with someone like me.”
His brow dropped, and his eyes, hard and fiery, pierced my heart. “Cam, listen to me. There are no cheerleaders or popular girls. There is no right or wrong. There’s just you and me. Part of the reason why I want you is because you’re not like the other girls I’ve dated. You’re exactly who you are, and that’s exactly why I want to be with you.”
I took a shaky breath. “Why won’t you just let me break up with you?”
“Kiss me.”
I sighed, chest aching. “Tyler—”
“I mean it. Kiss me. If you don’t feel it, if you don’t want me, then walk away. But don’t walk away because of some presumption about how I feel.” Fear and pain flitted behind his eyes. “Kiss me, Cam, and tell me if you still want me.”
“All right,” I said softly, my pulse quickening. His hand tightened in the curve of my neck, his fingers in my hair, and I leaned in, closing my eyes.
My lips connected with his without needing to see — they could have found him in the dark or a thousand miles away. I breathed him in, slipped my tongue into his mouth, and he let me in. He let me kiss him without prompting, without guiding me, just let me lead on my own. But I didn’t need any convincing from him. I let my heart go, and it took over. My hands were in his hair. His hands were around my waist. I was in his lap. And I didn’t want it to end.
When I finally broke away, my eyelids were heavy, and I looked up at him, knowing it wouldn’t be easy to walk away from him, and I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not
ever. I just hoped he didn’t end up walking away from me.
I lay cradled in his arms and touched his cheek, feeling the slight scratch of stubble over his hard jaw. “I still want you,” I whispered, unable to deny it.
And he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. “Then don’t fight it. I’m yours.”
Tyler
I tightened my arms to bring her as close as I could to kiss again, this time taking her lips like she’d taken mine, trying with everything in me to ease her mind.
I hated that she wasn’t certain. That she didn’t feel right. Because I did. I felt so right about her that it was an absolute truth, she and I, an undeniable fact of the universe. I’d do whatever it took to convince her I was serious about her, that it wasn’t a passing feeling for me.
But even then I knew there was only so much I could do. If she didn’t get out of her own head, we could be doomed.
I tried not to think about that.
Instead, I thought about the sweetness of her lips, her fingers in my hair, her small body against mine. And just like the night before, we kissed for what felt like minutes or hours, until our bodies were heavy and lips swollen. When I broke away, she looked at me with hooded eyes.
“Can we go to bed?” she asked, her voice rough.
“Whatever you want, Cam.”
I kissed her again to punctuate the promise, and when she sat up with a sigh and climbed off the couch, I felt the loss of her warmth like an omen. But I made my way to my bedroom to change, meeting her in the bathroom where we brushed our teeth like we had a million times before.
But now, it was different. I watched her in the mirror as I scrubbed my teeth and she tied back her hair and picked up her toothbrush. Her T-shirt was small, maybe even a kid’s shirt, with an illustration of Gambit on the front flicking the ace of hearts. She didn’t have on a bra — I couldn’t help but notice the curve of her breasts, shifting slightly as she brushed. When she bent over the sink, my eyes found the swell of her ass in tiny black sleep shorts, and I marveled that anyone could make something so mundane as brushing their teeth so sexy.
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to pop that ass, if nothing more than just to hear her squeal and giggle.
