by A. M. Rose
He lets out a long sigh. “You’ll be safe here. I promise. I wouldn’t leave you if I thought you wouldn’t be.”
Slowly, I nod. The rational part of my brain says he’s right. But the other side knows, that even though it seems like we lost the Green-eyed man, it might not be true. Or it might not be for long. He always seems to know how to find me.
Dylan grabs a room key and opens the door. “Lock it behind me. Both locks. I’ll be back in ten minutes, I promise.”
I jump up and as soon as the door clicks I turn the deadbolt and slam the other lock shut, then press my back against the door. If this were all happening a week ago I’d probably run back to the bed and pull the thick duvet around me. But now I try to busy myself around the room.
I flip through all the channels on the TV. Put our bags in the closet. Glance at every page in the Sights of SF book on the coffee table.
But as the minutes tick on, panic bubbles in my chest. The blackness outside the widow seems to get darker. I curl into the blanket wrapped around me and turn on all the lights. Then I think how maybe that makes it easier for me to be seen, so I shut them all off and crawl into the corner of the room and sit in the dark.
The heater kicks on and I concentrate on the sound, not the thrumming of my heart. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. But I can’t convince myself of it.
My phone buzzes, and I practically jump out of my skin. It’s Dylan saying he’s waiting on a pizza and will be back soon. Soon isn’t soon enough.
I pull my knees to my chest and rest my head on them. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. How long does it take to make a pizza? Slowly I crawl over to the window and look down, but it’s too dark and I’m too far up to be able to really see anything down there.
Forty-five minutes more, and I’m freaking out. I’ve texted Dylan ten times and he hasn’t written me back. Maybe the Green-eyed man got him. And where the hell’s Maddox? Maybe I’m all alone for real.
Pull yourself together, Drea. You’re being completely irrational. Just call the front desk and see if they’ve seen him.
I inch my way over to the phone and press 0.
“This is Lanette, how can I help you?” She sounds friendly. Eager to help, and there’s a steady beat echoing behind her.
I twist the cord around my finger. “I’m looking for my friends who’re staying with me. One guy is tall, blond hair—”
“There are a lot of people down here, ma’am. A few tall and blond. I’m sure you’d be able to pick him out better than I can.” This time she doesn’t sound as friendly.
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll come check. Thank—” The line disconnects before I even finish.
I take a deep breath and stand up. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s a ride down the elevator and back up, that’s all.
I grab another key from the dresser, take a deep breath, and square my shoulders before heading out. The elevator slowly crawls its way down. Each time we stop, my heart stops, too. The people who step on look like they’re ready to climb onto any of the Sights of SF pages. Girls in short dresses and high heels. Guys wearing too much cologne. My jeans and converse look pretty dingy compared to them.
We finally hit the bottom floor, and I grab the handrail to steady myself. The door opens and the pounding music comes pouring in.
Everyone files out before me, which is fine. I need a second to calm my nerves. Two steps off the elevator and there’s Dylan.
My stomach sinks.
He’s next to a girl who can only be described as absolutely stunning. She’s tall, like him, with pin-straight waist-length blonde hair. He looks really comfortable standing there, not all rigid like he was before he left me alone in the room. She leans into his ear and places her hand on his arm, next to the pizza box on the counter. He doesn’t pull away either. A smile curls on his lips, and she starts laughing. My body tenses. I don’t know if I should be pissed that he left me or hurt because of why he didn’t come back.
His head swivels in my direction and I dart behind a pillar, than another so he won’t see me. Hurt wins over anger, so I keep moving away from him. The music gets louder and louder. I don’t even know where I’m going. Or what I should do.
A group of girls comes out of the bathroom laughing and looking like super models. I follow behind them as a big beefy guy holds up a red velvet rope and lets us into some kind of nightclub. The lighting is dimmed and the chandelier illuminates bright violet and blue. The white marble floors reflect the same colors. Small seating areas and highball tables have been set up around a dance floor. And a DJ plays from the balcony.
I press my way through gyrating bodies, trying to get as far away from everything as possible. There, sitting on a black leather couch in the corner all alone, is Maddox.
I exhale a long breath, thankful nothing happened to him. I feel silly for being so worried about them ten minutes ago.
The potent scent of alcohol hits me as soon as I sit down next to him. “Hey, what are you doing over here all by yourself?” I have to lean in close to his ear so he can hear me over the music.
“Drea! Have you ever had one of these?” His words are slightly slurred as he holds up a glass half full of red liquid with an orange slice floating on top. “I was sitting here with a bunch of people and they told me I was way too stressed out. So they gave me this drink. I think they called it a relaxer.” He takes a gulp.
I wipe away a drop of sweat rolling down the side of my face. Today’s been more than stressful for all of us, and we’ve been dealing with it in our own ways, me hiding in the hotel room. Dylan… I take a breath. This trip has been hard on all of us. “How many have you had?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He waves his hand in the air and holds up his fingers. “Two or three. I lost count.” He waves his hand again, dismissing the idea. “They totally work. I feel way more relaxed! Here, you want some?” He hands the drink to me.
I know I shouldn’t, but with everything else that’s happened, I bring the glass to my lips. It’s sweet like fruit punch and goes down easy. Too easy. I set it on the table in front of us and push it out of reach. “Maybe I should take you upstairs so you can lie down.”
“Not yet. There’s something I want to talk to you about,” he says and my pulse speeds up. Could he want to tell me that I’m not imagining things after all? And this thing I think happened in Hollywood really did? His head swivels around like he’s looking for something. Or someone. The Green-eyed man. Is he here? I do a check around the room myself, and when I’m satisfied I don’t see him, I turn back to Maddox. He’s bobbing his head along to the beat.
I tap his arm. “Okay, what is it?” I keep the excitement out of my voice.
“What’s what?”
“You said you wanted to tell me something.”
“Oh yeah. Let me ask you something.” He leans in closer. “Were you ever expected to do something you didn’t want to do? But you couldn’t say no?”
I shrug and my heart sinks with disappointment. Not exactly what I hoped for. And I’m not sure what he’s getting at, or if it’s the alcohol talking, but either way I humor him, hoping it will get us off this couch sooner, and then back up into the room where it’s safe. “Sure, I guess so.”
He leans in even more, swaying back and forth. “What did you do?”
I put my hands on his arms to help steady him. I’m not really sure what to say. There’ve been times I haven’t wanted to do something I was told to do. Like when Mom would say to clean my room, and I’d shove everything in my closet or under my bed. “I don’t know. I guess I figure out a way to get it done. And maybe it wasn’t exactly the way they wanted. But I figured if I have to do it, I’m going to do it my way. Like the saying goes, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“You’ve skinned a cat?” He sounds horrified as he pulls away from me, almost falling in the process.
I grab him and pull him back up to a sitting position. “Of course not! It’s just an expression.”
>
“In that case, you really are a genius. Did you come up with that yourself?” He stares at me with wide eyes. But before I can respond, he says, “That’s it. I’m going to do it my way and then no one can be mad because it still got done. You know?” He sits, swaying back and forth a little before continuing. “I really like you and Dylan. You’re the first real friends I’ve ever had. You guys are awesome. Have I ever told you how awesome you guys are?” This time he grabs my arms and steadies himself. We lock eyes. Intense sapphires have me catching my breath. “You are awesome and beautiful… You’re so beautiful, and smart and funny—and beautiful.”
His voice gets softer, but I still catch every word. He glances from my eyes to my lips. My heart pounds so hard in my chest I’m afraid it’ll break through, but I can’t move. He leans in, his lips barely touching me at first and then firmly pressing against mine. His hands caress the back of my neck and he pulls me deeper into him. Like complementing colors, we blend together seamlessly, creating the perfect mixture.
We separate only for a second before I pull him back. His lips are soft and hot as my hand runs along the stubble on his jaw. Kissing him feels better than I ever could’ve imagined. He tastes like sweet fruit and alcohol.
I jerk back. “No. Stop.”
He pulls me toward him, but I resist. There’s hurt in his eyes. But he’s drunk, and kissing me could mean absolutely nothing to him tomorrow, when it means absolutely everything to me right now.
“Let’s get you upstairs.” I stand, glance around quickly, and help him to his feet. Swinging his arm over my shoulder, I push my way through the crowd toward the elevators, trying not to think about what just happened.
I slam my hand against the call button for the elevator over and over. I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot. Maddox hums to himself and rests his head on my shoulder.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open.
Dylan steps out. “What the hell, Drea, I told you to stay in the room.” He sounds angry. He has no right to be.
I clench my jaw as I stare at his scrunched up brow. If he’d come straight to the room, I wouldn’t have come down and seen him with that girl. And I wouldn’t have kissed Maddox. And I wouldn’t be fighting back tears right now.
Maddox steps toward Dylan and flings his arms around him, hugging him. “I love you, bro.”
Dylan stumbles and pats Maddox on the back. “What’s with him?” he asks from over Maddox’s shoulder.
“Someone bought him a few drinks.” My voice sounds tired, as tired as I feel. I pull Maddox off Dylan. “Just help me get him upstairs.”
Dylan goes to swing Maddox’s arm over his shoulder, but Maddox’s head jerks up and he runs off toward the front doors to the hotel. Dylan and I exchange a quick glance and chase after him. After nearly tripping on an empty pack of cigarettes, we catch up with him in a group of girls. His arm is swung around one with dark wavy hair, thick black eyeliner, and a nose ring.
Dylan swings Maddox’s arm back over his shoulder. “I’m sorry if our friend’s bothering you. Here, let me get him.”
“It’s no big deal. He’s cool.” She takes a casual up-and-down look at Maddox and then at Dylan.
“Come on, lover boy, let’s go,” Dylan says.
I flinch and glance quickly at Dylan. What would he think if I told him about the kiss? I don’t even know what I think. But that’s a lie. I know exactly what I think. That I wanted it to be Dylan, but it wasn’t.
Dylan starts walking Maddox back toward the elevators. “Have a safe drive home,” Maddox yells, waving his arm.
My stomach’s all in knots as we ride back up in the elevator. I stare at the numbers as they slowly climb, then shuffle my feet along the carpet when we get off.
“You should’ve stayed in the room. But I guess I can see why you didn’t.” Dylan stops to adjust Maddox’s arm over his shoulder. “How did you know he was down there?”
I shrug. “He texted me.”
Dylan opens the door to our room, and Maddox stumbles forward, knocking into things before dropping himself on the couch like a lead balloon. Dylan sets his room key on the long white dresser, next to a pizza box. I bet it’s already cold. “He’s gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning.”
I nod. I kind of hope he feels like shit. It’s how I feel right now after everything that’s happened.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dylan’s voice is soft, but he sounds like the same old Dylan. And I begin to wonder if it’s always going to be this way.
My brows draw together. “Nothing. But what’s going on with you?” There’s serious curiosity in my voice. Because what I remember is Dylan telling me to stay put while he kept me waiting so he could talk to some beautiful blonde girl. He’s wondering what’s wrong now, but he didn’t seem too worried then.
“I got us pizza. It’s your favorite.”
Maybe it’s how normal he sounds, or it’s because Maddox kissed me. Or maybe it’s because I need to know, but I close the distance between us and look Dylan in the eye. Gorgeous, deep brown ones stare back at me. “What is this?”
Dylan’s eyes grow wide. “What are you talking about?” He sounds almost nervous, which is different than normal, but still doesn’t answer my question.
“This,” I repeat and gesture between him and me. But he doesn’t say anything, he stares at me, his mouth slightly open. And so I stare back, my heart pounding against my ribs and the faint smell of perfume invading my nose. My chest tightens. It isn’t mine. “What am I, Dylan?” It sounds like a demand, and maybe it is.
“Drea, I—” He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck.
I take a breath to keep my voice from shaking. “What?”
“It’s just— You—” He tries to step back, to step away from me, but I stop him. This is too important. I need to know.
“I kissed Maddox.” I don’t say that Maddox kissed me first. Or that I’m not even sure if he meant it. But that I did it. It was me. Because I want to see his reaction. I need to know how he really feels.
His eyes lock with mine, but other than that, nothing. Not a flinch, or a twitch. Nothing. The lump building in my throat doesn’t let me say anything. He lifts my hand off his arm. “You’re my best friend.” His voice is so steady, his eyes so sure.
This time it’s me who steps away, and he doesn’t stop me.
Friends. Nothing more. Only friends.
“Look, I need to— I mean, I think—” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He grabs the key he had just set down and walks out the door.
I’m numb as I grab my stuff and lock myself in the bathroom. After I strip down, I stand in the stream of hot water. Everything that’s happened tonight comes crashing down on me. Emotions I’ve never felt before, and ones I’ve tried so hard to keep buried, hit me all at once. I stand in the water, gliding my finger over a small chip in the tile. It’s so small no one has probably ever noticed, or maybe never thought it was important enough to fix. As my finger bumps over that little space, the tears start to trickle then stream from my eyes. I can’t hold them back. And I’m not even sure that I want to. The tile will never be whole again, at least never in the same way. Just like me, that little piece is gone, probably washed away forever. My chest convulses, my knees are weak. I crumple inside the tub, letting the water rain down on me, and cry.
This trip is a disaster. The SUV. Maddox. Then, Dylan’s confirmation about us.
I don’t know what to think, or say, or do. Maybe we should call this whole thing off and go home. But I’m not sure if I’m safe there anymore, either. It sucks. All of this sucks.
After a few minutes, I finally collect myself enough to finish up, get dried, and dressed. I step out of the steam-filled bathroom to the cold, dark hotel room. Maddox breathes heavy from the couch, and Dylan isn’t back yet. I don’t even what to think about where he is or what he’s doing.
I toss the towel from my hair onto the chair, climb into the bed, and st
are at the light coming in from the crack under the door. My mind is running on and on, and all I want to do is get to sleep and forget this night ever happened.
…
The electricity between us is broken as Maddox slowly pulls back. Breathless, we look into each other’s eyes. The heat from his hands radiates through me as he explores my body. I can’t wait another second to kiss him again. I lean toward him.
“Stop,” a voice says.
My body responds. Maddox’s pupils grow wide; they’re questioning, and I am, too.
“Run! Run away now, while you still can,” the voice says.
I suck in a breath, my eyes fixate on the hotel clock, the only source of light in the dark room. Maddox is still slumped on the couch. Dylan has made it back and is asleep on the floor. I turn my back to both of them and stare at the door.
Why is this all happening to me? The more complicated things get the more I wish everything would just stop. But it was me who started this wheel spinning and now it’s out of control. Maybe sometimes questions aren’t meant to be answered. How do you know when you’ve pushed things too far?
My teeth start chattering and not because I’m cold, but because I’m afraid I’m about to find out.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.” Maddox flips all the lights in the room on.
I press my face into the mattress, trying to block it out. “Aren’t you supposed to be hungover?” I throw my head under a pillow. He was supposed to wake up with a pounding headache, not all super cheerful. “Turn the lights off.”
“I feel awesome. I guess I just had a great night’s sleep. Come on.” Maddox sounds excited, which I find annoying. I was hoping he slept like crap and that he woke up feeling the same. Kind of like me.
“We should probably get on the road.” Dylan lifts himself off the floor and shuffles into the bathroom.
I groan and pull the blankets up around me. I’m not ready for today, or to look either of them in the eye. “Go back to sleep, both of you.”
