by Piper Lawson
“She can’t say anything that changes who you are,” I tell her. “Who your dad is.”
I release her arm, brush a thumb over her cheek, and watch the conflicting emotions scroll across her face.
The scratch has healed, like my hand, but we can’t go back to the way we were before.
There was always a connection between us, and I’m starting to see why.
We have the same pain even though we’ve never talked about it. Even though we deal with it differently.
I bury mine so deep it can’t get surface, but hers…
She breathes it every day. Lives through it, makes the world more beautiful despite all of it.
Annie grabs her cue back from me but doesn’t step away. “I don’t want your pity, okay? I want to play pool. And laugh. And pretend I’m some college freshman out late on a school night and I shaved my legs for a good reason.”
“Fine. Don’t move.” She wants to play grown-up, I can do that.
I turn back to the table, rounding the felt and making quick work of the two ball before returning to exactly my previous position, inches away from her. I can smell her shampoo or body wash, something simple and floral, and I want to drop my face to her neck so I can figure out which it is.
She lifts a brow in amusement, as if she notices how close I am, too.
“What happened with Kellan Saturday night?” I ask. “Until you stumbled into my pool house, you looked like you wanted his hands on you.”
She swallows, her full lips parting. The vulnerability on her face slices through me. “I was never into Kellan. I thought he saw me.”
Fuck.
No matter what I promised Jax, if I’d met her tonight, looking like this?
I’d lead her into one of these shadowy corners and show her I see her.
In the dark, I see this girl.
Laughter drags my attention toward a couple a few years older who’ve been flirting at the bar. They shift off the stools, him wrapping an arm around her as they make out on the way past us to the door.
By the time I turn back, Annie’s gone. Slipped past me to plan her next attack on the table.
We trade shots back and forth, careful not to tread on anything too personal, as if we both recognize we got too close.
Best new band you’ve found this year.
Most embarrassing moment at Oakwood.
Vacation you dream of taking after graduation.
Book you were forced to read for English class that you secretly love.
Even though we’re steering clear of dangerous territory, we’re getting to know each other again, and it feels good.
Finally, there’s one shot left. The angle’s terrible. There’s almost no way to catch the three without sinking the eight.
“You got a plan for that?” I ask, coming up behind her.
“Working on it.”
“I can already taste my cheese fries,” I say solemnly.
She bends over the table, her dress inching up the backs of her thighs. “Better grab your wallet, then.”
More than one interested pair of male eyes finds her, and my protectiveness kicks in.
“Let me help,” I say, surprising both of us.
I swore I wouldn’t let myself get caught up in her, but in this darkened dive bar where no one knows her or me, that decision feels a million miles away.
I shift closer, shielding Annie’s body from the rest of the bar with mine. “Get your angle.”
“Oh, I’ve got mine.” Her voice is low and teasing. The flat of her back brushes my chest, her ass pressing lightly against my groin, and I have to bite my cheek to hold in the groan. “Do you?”
Who is this creature, and what has she done with the girl I used to be friends with?
The floral scent is definitely her hair.
I want to know how the rest of her smells.
“You think you know how to do everything,” she murmurs, and her smug tone chafes my ego.
“I do know how to do everything.”
Annie turns her head, catches me staring. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted, and she’s trying to figure out what I’m playing at.
That makes two of us.
My hands tighten on her as if now that I’ve felt her against me, I can’t stand the thought of her anywhere else.
I won’t kiss her. A thousand paths that lead to my destruction begin with kissing this girl.
But I want to.
I want more of her, closer. To spin her and lift her up on this pool table, to make her see how fucking awesome she is.
To have some of that awesomeness rub off on me.
“Tyler…” Annie turns back to the table, loosing the cue in a smooth, practiced motion that has my brows shooting up. The final two balls sink neatly into the pockets, eight last.
Admiration and pure fucking lust coil at the base of my spine.
I can handle both of those until she utters five words that crash like a battering ram against the wall around my heart.
“You owe me cheese fries.”
8
“Bitch, I missed the hell out of you.” Pen bounces at my front door Thursday right before noon, her lime-green Mini in the driveway. She holds out a gold rectangular box. “This is for your dad and stepmom from my parents. It’s some fancy booze.”
I take it from her and lead the way through the house. “Perfect. Dad, Haley, and Sophie are out, but I’ll put it with the fancy booze collection.”
I head for the wine storage room off the kitchen and drop off the box.
“One for them, one for us. I’m so ready for this PA day.”
I grab a bottle of champagne at random out of one of the coolers.
Surprise crosses Pen’s face. “I thought we were studying.”
“Later. I want to hear all about your trip.”
Soon, we’re in bathing suits by the pool, the sun baking us. She’s telling me about Tuscany, the house and rolling hills.
“And your book recs were on point,” she adds. “I made it through two rom-coms, plus the one about the refugee who started a business in her new country and got all the local women involved. So good.”
“I’m glad. Any guys on this trip?” I prod.
“The winery next door had a son.”
She pulls out her phone and shows me pictures of a guy with dark eyes and curly hair.
“Pen. Did you…?”
“Second base. Which I think is only first base in Italian.” She sighs. “I forgot how much I love your pool.”
“You may be seeing more of it. I’m grounded.” I lift my glass in a toast.
“Wait, what?” Pen’s screech echoes off the house as she grabs my arm.
“I decided to drop AP calc. My dad was not a fan.”
“You can’t drop calc.”
I explain my reasoning, and she finally concedes. “So, is this grounding thing the reason you went out and bought that fuck-hot bikini? To give your dad a heart attack?”
I look down at my bathing suit. That’s not how I would’ve described it, but now that she says it, I can see where she’s coming from. It’s red and cut high on my legs, makes my ass look great, and the magic top pushes everything up enough that it looks as if I have real, live boobs. Cleavage and everything. “I just felt like it.”
“What about the pool party?”
The memory has me shivering despite the sunshine. “Kellan hit on me, but when I passed, he turned pissy fast.”
Her face turns thunderous. “I’m going to shove his balls down his throat.”
“Too late. He had a black eye the whole week.” I nod toward the pool house.
She picks up the bottle of wine and fills her glass halfway. “Tyler Adams hit him. I should go away more often.”
I nearly drop my glass as Tyler and Brandon come around the side of the house. My throat goes dry, and it’s not from the champagne.
They’re both wearing shorts and nothing else, but it’s Tyler’s body that has me sitting up st
raighter.
His shoulders are broad and deliciously rounded, his pecs defined. Suddenly, I’m remembering how he looked playing at that party. How he smelled. How he felt, that body pressed against mine.
I hate how girls trip over themselves for musicians as if the fact that a guy can play a chord progression magically predicts his ability to get you off.
But from the second I walked in the door of the fraternity house and saw Tyler on that stage, I was lost.
They didn’t deserve him, didn’t even appreciate what he was giving them.
I did.
Thank goodness for padding because it’s way too hot out for my nipples to be getting hard under this bathing suit.
“Tyler hit who over who?” Brandon asks.
“Kellan Albright.” Pen pulls her sunglasses down her nose, then reaches for the sunscreen.
“That’s how I heard it.” Brandon cocks his head at my friend. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of tanning?”
“If I was trying to tan, yes. If I’m studying, no.”
Brandon smirks. “Doesn’t look like studying.”
“Do you want me to prove the fundamental theorem of calculus on this patio with my lipstick? Because bitch, I’ll do it.” His jaw goes slack, and she turns her attention to Tyler. “You’ve been looking out for my girl.”
“Someone’s got to,” Tyler answers.
Pen smirks. “Gasp, Adams.”
“Your girl knows exactly what she’s doing,” Brandon weighs in. “Lil’ sis was a serious cockblock last night.”
He grins at Tyler, who’s shooting him a death glare, before returning to Pen.
“It’s obvious the whole ‘come play our party’ thing was Trish’s excuse to get our boy on campus for a little extra-credit homework. Then you show up”—he nods at me— “and Ty’s gone all night.”
I take a sip of my drink. “Sorry.”
“Like fuck you are,” Brandon cackles.
It’s true. Learning that girl is Tyler’s tutor made me feel like he didn’t bail on me for someone else—not in January, not even this week.
Has Tyler slept with anyone since he moved here?
Maybe that’s why he’s so broody and repressed. The guy needs to get laid.
“You girls going to use the pool or just gawk at it?” Brandon grabs Pen’s glass, drains it despite her squeak of protest, then jumps—cup still in hand—into the pool.
I stare at Tyler over the rim of my glass, and his gaze warms on mine.
“Brandon’s right.” I rise, adjusting my swimsuit, then toss my hat on the patio and yank my hair up into a messy topknot. I brush past Tyler and cannonball into the water.
When I come up, I hear cheering from Brandon and squealing from Pen, who carefully steps over the edge into the shallow end.
Tyler’s the last one in, but I can’t take my eyes off him when he disappears below the surface or when he emerges once more, tossing his wet hair back with a grin that makes my stomach flip.
Last night with Tyler felt exhilarating.
We both have reasons to be weighed down, but hanging with him, like it was us against the world, was a rush I didn’t expect.
The news of his dad’s blackmail, or whatever you want to call it, made me angrier than anything I can remember.
My dad’s never made me feel like I owed him. Even the shock of my birth mom showing up, the secret I’ve been carrying around about the letter that lives in my desk upstairs, feels small and less dramatic by comparison.
I want to track Tyler’s dad down and chew him out. I want to tell him he doesn’t deserve to have a son who’s talented and capable, one who’s resourceful enough to fend for himself when his parents don’t.
I want…
God, I want so many things with Tyler.
I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to stop.
We splash around for a while, trying to keep a volleyball in the air. Eventually I pause on the wall to catch my breath, watching Pen and Brandon fall into teasing conversation.
“Hey.” I gasp as I realize Tyler’s sneaked up on me in the pool. My gaze pulls to his abs and the water that licks at his stomach a couple inches above the waistband of his shorts.
“What is that?” he asks.
I glance down at the ink sticking out the top of my bikini bottom and mentally curse that I forgot to scrub it off. “Just words. I write things I want to remember.”
“Like ‘buy milk’?”
I put my hands on my hips. “No. Like ‘be fearless’ or ‘open your heart.’”
“Can I see?”
I hoist myself half out of the pool on my elbows and try not to squirm as he tugs down the side of my bikini bottoms.
“’Leave it all.’”
I feel my body flush under his scrutiny.
Normally I write wherever I have space and my words won’t be seen—my wrist, my thigh, my waist. Of course, this time it’s on the front of my hip, below my hipbone. Dangerously low.
“It means don’t hold back. Leave the fear, the doubt, the uncertainty, and give everything. Be everything. I’ve been telling myself that in rehearsal.”
I drop back into the water, and he shades his eyes with a hand. “You could get a tattoo. It’d last longer.”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t decide on one. I’d be covered everywhere. It’d make Dad’s sleeve look like one of those girly ankle tats.”
Tyler grins. When he motions me closer still with a crooked finger, I inch toward him, the water doing nothing to cool my heating blood.
Then before I can decide what his game is, he dunks me.
“I keep seeing banners around for prom. That your doing?” Brandon asks Pen as we head inside after we finish swimming to find something to eat.
“I was on the junior prom committee, but one of the directors of senior prom came down with chicken pox.” Pen shrugs. “Anyway, A’s gonna be my backup.”
“We’ll see,” I say as we scrounge some sandwiches from cold cuts in the fridge and fresh ciabatta rolls on the counter. “I might still be grounded, and I draw the line at serving drinks to the minions while wearing a monkey suit. Are you guys going?”
“I’m still waiting for the right moment to ask Tyler,” Brandon drawls, and Tyler snorts.
“Bring me roses, B, or there’s no way I’m letting you blow me in the limo.”
I shake my head because, apparently, I’m not getting a real answer. “Carly’s been bragging about how Kellan asked her. If only that’d get her off my back.”
“Guess you missed your chance.” Brandon laughs at Tyler as we take our plates of food back out to sit on the patio.
I shiver at the thought of Tyler taking Carly. I picture him in a tux, soft lights and white smiles and flirting in corners.
“I wouldn’t touch her if my life depended on it.” Tyler shifts into the chair at the head of the table. Even out here, he naturally assumes the control position.
“What about at the pool party?” I ask.
“I let her use my bathroom, then kicked her out.”
“Why?” I can’t resist asking. “She’s a dick to us, but she’d probably wax your motorcycle with her tits if you asked her to.”
“Guess she’s not my type.” He reclines in his seat, pushing sunglasses up his nose. “I don’t want her tits anywhere near my shit.”
That pronouncement makes me irrationally happy.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it. “Norelli just said the gym is free for rehearsal for anyone who can go! I need to be there.”
Tyler cocks his head. “You’re grounded. You’re not leaving.”
I wink at him. “Watch me.”
I’m grateful we ended up consuming less than half a glass each of champagne earlier as I say goodbye to Pen, then head to the garage and reach for my keys.
They’re not there.
I whirl and stalk back to the patio, where Tyler and Brandon are still sitting.
“Where are my keys?”
&nb
sp; Tyler clasps his hands behind his head. “Beats me.”
I’m halfway down the driveway to catch the Uber I called when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Come back. Your dad’ll be pissed if you leave on my watch.” Tyler’s voice at my back is one part amused, one part annoyed.
“I need to rehearse.”
“You can rehearse in the house.” He catches up and cuts me off.
“I’m going. You can’t stop me.”
“Wanna bet?”
He slings me over his shoulder before I can take another breath.
The ground is a few feet from my face, blood rushing to my head as I try to orient myself. “What the hell! This is medieval. No, these are like… press gang tactics. Put me down!”
“Once we get to the house.”
I grind my teeth together as I bounce on his shoulder. “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”
“As much as you’re staring at mine.”
The finger I’m tracing over the stitching on the back pocket of his jeans stills, and Tyler chuckles.
“I was hoping you’d have a comic strip on your thigh. This is a long driveway.”
The only sounds for the next dozen steps are his steady breathing and my awkward huffs of breath.
When he finally sets me down, we’re in the rose garden where I was with Kellan last weekend.
“I have to tell you something,” he says.
I blink, feeling the blood flow back down my body and out of my head. “Okay…”
Tyler bends to pick something off the flagstone, turning back to me. It’s a purple rose, its stem broken but its petals intact.
“I called you nothing that day because I figured if I said it enough, I’d start to believe it.”
My throat tightens. “How’s that working out for you?”
“Not great.” He rubs a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in a way that should be stupid but isn’t. “Before I came here, Jax told me to keep my distance.”
Unbelievable.
I open my mouth, but Tyler continues first.
“He was right, by the way.” He steps closer until I’m forced to lift my chin to hold his gaze. “I have no business inserting myself in your life.”
