by J. J. Howard
Something felt tight in his chest as he watched her. After a few more minutes of (probably creepy) staring, he realized he’d started walking toward her—not even thinking about it, just moving closer to her, like there wasn’t anywhere else he could go.
It wasn’t long before she sensed him standing near her. Her eyes flew open, locked on his. But she didn’t run away. Cam moved even closer, put his hands on her waist; she kept swaying to the music, her body close to his.
In the flickering light from the torches, there was a tiny flash of silver at Nikki’s neck. Cam reached out and slipped two fingers beneath the chain, slowly pulling the tiny birdcage pendant from where it had rested under her shirt. He let his fingers close around it. The metal was warm from contact with her skin. They were staring into each other’s eyes. It was hard to breathe.
He lowered his head; she raised hers. It felt like the most natural thing in the world for him to kiss her. But then she shifted gears, pushing at his chest with one hand.
And running away.
There was a ledge, about three feet tall, between Nikki and the exit. Cam watched her jump up toward the door. The move wasn’t very graceful. In fact, she almost fell.
Maybe this wasn’t actually a game to her, even though at that moment it sure felt like it.
When he saw her wobbly landing, though, that did it. He took off after her, following her out of the dance area, down the stairs, and out onto the street.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.
She turned around.
“What happened?” he asked, hating how his voice sounded—like he was pleading with her to tell him the truth.
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just stuffy as hell in there.”
Cam saw that she’d hidden the pendant again, beneath the collar of her shirt.
He moved a half step closer, keeping his hand on her arm. “Do you want to get out of here? Go somewhere else?”
“Not right now. I can’t.” Her words came out clipped. Robotic, almost.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I . . .” Nikki bit her lip, not meeting his eyes.
“Nikki. What are you afraid of?”
The eyes she raised to his seemed too bright. Was she trying to tell him something?
Then she jumped as a motorcycle pulled up close to where they stood.
Miller hopped down from his bike and took off his helmet. “Hey, guys. Sorry I missed the fun,” he said, giving Cam a quick one-armed hug. “Had some business to take care of.” He turned to Nikki and handed her a helmet he’d grabbed off the back of his bike.
Cam felt the ground shift beneath his feet as he watched her put the helmet on. Suddenly, everything made sense.
And nothing made sense.
“You okay?” Miller asked.
He felt a nervous jolt, then realized Miller was almost certainly talking about the bruises decorating his face. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Now his voice sounded robotic, but it was the best he could do.
“Hey, Cam—you need anything at all, you call me, all right?”
Cam forced himself to nod. Forced a casual smile.
A casual robot smile.
Cam wished he really were made of metal, just then. That he could turn off the pain that sliced through him the moment he understood what was actually going on.
Miller was still staring at him in that shrewd way of his. After a moment, he straddled his bike.
“Ready to go, Niks?” Miller asked. Cam watched as she climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around Miller’s waist.
Nikki shot him a look before they drove away. It seemed like she felt sorry for him.
That just made it so much worse. Cam stood staring, long after the bike had disappeared. He realized at some point that Dylan was standing beside him.
“You coming back in?” Dylan asked.
Cam shook his head. “No. I’m tired. I’m gonna hit it.”
Dylan nodded, but didn’t say anything.
Cam walked the whole way home.
@%&#!!!
TWELVE
IT WAS PROBABLY a mistake for a squatter paying zero rent to blast music outdoors.
But the amount Cam cared just then: zero percent.
He’d been back from the club for maybe two hours. Sleep wasn’t even something he bothered to attempt. His head was too full. As he sat on the roof, looking out into the dark, he couldn’t stop seeing her climb onto the back of Miller’s bike; the moment replayed itself in his mind’s eye, over and over.
Now it all made sense: the way she kept pushing him away, all the things she didn’t say.
Nikki was with Miller.
Cam felt another wave of anger wash over him. The idea of her being with him—as upsetting as it was—wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the way Nikki had kept on not telling him, letting him follow her around like some lovesick parkour puppy. The way he’d invented all kinds of reasons for her reserved, closed-off attitude. Maybe someone had hurt her. Maybe she was getting over something from her past.
Maybe she was shacking up with their boss.
The night was clear, almost cool. It was the end of summer—the perfect season for Led Zeppelin. He sat on the roof, drinking iced tea mixed with lemonade; he closed his eyes and let the bridge of “Stairway to Heaven” wash over him.
The others had to have known, of course. He understood now why the mood had gotten so tense at the guys’ loft when the subject of Nikki’s “roommate” came up.
It wasn’t like he’d tried very hard to hide his interest in her.
Only one good thing had come from watching Nikki climb onto the back of Miller’s bike: at least the truth was out now. He could stop trying to figure out her whole hot-and-cold routine, the hundred times she’d bitten her lip, afraid to speak. The way she’d run away from him over and over. It was because she was dating Miller. She lived with him. Maybe she even loved him.
The song ended, and apparently so did the playlist. Cam’s phone was lying a few feet away and he heaved himself to his feet to go check on it. That’s when he heard the crash. It sounded like it had come from the stairs. Curious, he made his way carefully down through the almost pitch-black stairwell.
He heard swearing.
Rounding the next set of stairs, Cam almost tripped over her.
“Nikki?”
She was still letting loose with a highly colorful series of words. He bent to offer her a hand. She glared up at him and groaned, but then took it.
“What . . . happened?” he asked.
It was hard to tell in the dark, but she seemed to glare even harder at him. “I fell.”
“I got that part. How . . . ?”
What he wanted to say was, you jumped off a five-story building the day I met you, and you landed on your feet, so what’s with the tripping-up-the-stairs routine? But he restrained himself.
She was here. He hated the feeling that was swelling in his chest, because he thought it was probably hope. And he knew from hard experience how dangerous that stuff could be.
Nikki blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Well, if it weren’t pitch-black in here, maybe I wouldn’t have.”
He smiled. “I’ll look into having some motion-sensor lights installed,” he said. “You know, in this building I’m occupying illegally.”
She seemed to realize then that she was still holding on to his arm, and she let go, stumbling slightly but grabbing on to the railing at the last second.
Cam shook his head at her. “And I used to think you were so graceful.” When she didn’t respond, he changed the subject, keeping his voice neutral. “How did you find me?”
She shrugged. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Cam crossed his arms. He felt a spark of anger edging out his happiness at seeing
her. The time when he’d wanted—no, needed—her to talk to him, that time had passed. He asked the only question that was left between them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were with Miller?”
He had the satisfaction of seeing her flinch. “It’s not . . . I didn’t. Just . . . it’s complicated, is the thing.”
“Complicated?” he echoed.
“Dylan—he got into some bad trouble a while back. And Miller made it go away.”
The spark of anger grew into a fire at her words. So much for trying not to care. “Your brother pimped you out to the boss. Seems pretty simple to me.”
She tried to back away from him, but her back was already against the railing. “Miller doesn’t own me,” she shot back defensively.
Cam stepped closer. “Is that right?” he demanded. “Why are you here, Nikki? What’s the point?” With considerable effort, he managed to keep his voice low, because otherwise he’d be shouting at her. He was so mad, he felt almost sick.
“I should’ve told you. It’s my fault. But, Cam . . .” She raised her eyes to his. “You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t . . . if I hadn’t . . .”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t. So . . . you want me to quit?”
“You can still walk away . . .”
He grabbed her arm. “Is that what you want?”
She looked down again. Her voice was nearly a whisper. “I don’t want you to owe Miller like we do . . .”
He felt his grip on her arm tighten, but she didn’t pull away. He lowered his face to hers. He spat out each word very precisely: “Do you want me to go?”
Nikki shook her head. Finally, she spoke, the word escaping as though it were painful: “No.”
Cam closed his eyes. She’d said it—that one small word: no. She didn’t want him to go. And yet he knew that moving one step closer to her would not, could not end well. He’d already made a terrible mess of every part of his life. Why would he take another step toward Nikki and all the trouble she was guaranteed to bring him?
He opened his eyes. There was no reason. This wasn’t about reason, and never had been.
So he took that step, closed the small distance between them.
And then he was kissing her, finally. She didn’t push him away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushed even closer to him, deepening the kiss. A small sound like a sigh escaped her lips. He pulled away for a second, breathing hard, and looked into her eyes. He didn’t ask the question out loud, but that moment was her chance to get away.
She didn’t take it—she pulled his head down to hers again. He lowered his hands, picking her up, lifting her against the wall. He moaned, low in his throat. Both of them were breathing hard, eyes still locked. She pushed up at the hem of his T-shirt, and he helped her peel it off.
It was still very dark in the stairwell, but his footing was sure as he carried her up to his makeshift bedroom, and they fell together onto his bed.
He laid her down in the tangle of sheets. “Sorry about the mess.”
She reached up, ruffling his hair, and smiled crookedly up at him. “I think that’s my line.”
He smiled, then leaned down to nuzzle her neck. He must have hit a ticklish spot because she giggled.
“Hey, you’re kind of ruining the moment for me here,” he said, mock-frowning.
She sat up slightly, biting her lower lip and looking up at him through her lashes. “Really? Are you sure?”
His face broke out into a grin. “Nah.” He took great pleasure in stopping her from biting that lip by taking over the job himself.
• • •
They lay tangled together in his messy bedclothes, listening to music. Nikki surprised him by knowing all the words to his favorite Zeppelin song, “Over the Hills and Far Away.”
“You’ve got a nice voice,” he said, lazily tracing his hand in circles over her bare back.
She arched her neck to look back at him. “Thanks. I was the vice president of the chorus in middle school.”
Cam raised an eyebrow. “Vice president of the chorus, huh? How sweet. Who knew you were so heavy into school activities?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “It was seventh grade, Cam. I’m sure you were supercool in seventh grade.”
“Baby, I was always cool,” he said, lying back and crossing his arms behind his neck. She shifted position, holding herself up on one elbow and peering down to look into his eyes.
“Always cool, huh? How come when I met you, you were biting it on the hood of a cab?”
He sat up abruptly, pushing her away from him. “Maybe because someone jumped off a building and landed on top of me.” He tackled her then, moving so he was propped up on his elbows, looking down at her. Her hair was spread out over the pillow and he couldn’t resist running a hand through it.
“I guess it was sort of my fault . . .” She started biting her lip again, driving him crazy.
“Sort of your fault?” He tightened his grip on her arms. “Nik . . .” He pretended to glare at her.
“Maybe mostly my fault.”
“Uh-huh. Well, tonight it was you doing the falling.”
“What?”
He grinned. “Do I need to remind you that I found you flat on your butt in my stairwell not two hours ago?”
“I can’t believe you’re reminding me of that.”
“I’m just glad you fell for me.” He grinned harder, but stopped when she kicked him. Luckily it was in the shin.
He retaliated by tickling her again, which once more proved highly effective. When she finally gave up and promised no more kicking, he gathered her against him, resting his head on her shoulder.
“I love this song,” Nikki said; this time, it was “Kashmir.”
“A beautiful girl who loves Zeppelin,” he said. “You’re never leaving this room.”
“It reminds me of home,” she told him. “My mom had this old radio, and she used to bring it out on the porch and listen to the classic-rock station. She’d just listen for hours. She said Zeppelin reminded her of summers at the beach.”
“Where’s home?”
“Very far away,” Nikki said. “This little nothing town in Florida.” She put a hand on his chest, propped her chin up to look at him. “I never saw a town bigger than, like, five hundred people before I left home.”
“Well, you’re lucky. All I’ve ever seen is this jungle.”
“You’ve never been outside the city?”
He sighed. “I don’t count my jail time . . . I was going to leave . . . right after my mom died. I found out she still had my dad’s old car. She’d had it all along; she never told me. I’m sure she was afraid I’d sell it to help her out. I would have too. So she kept it a secret. She wrote me a letter, said she wanted me to fix it up, get it running again, and go somewhere. Just get in and drive . . . as far away from here as I could get. California, maybe. That was the plan.”
“Where’s the car now?”
“The bank took it.”
“The bank . . .” Nikki frowned at him. “Cam, you can tell me.”
“Okay, it wasn’t the bank. I do owe money. Just not to the bank.”
“I kind of got that part. Who, though? The Tong?”
Cam felt a stab of apprehension go through him. “How did you know that?”
She smiled her crooked smile again. “Lucky guess. Relax. You just seemed oddly knowledgeable about the mob in Chinatown the other night. I put two and two together.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you borrowed money to help your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, Cam.”
He gathered her closer to him, resting his head on top of hers. “Yeah. Me too.”
“So how much do you owe?” she asked, her voice very quiet.
He sighed deeply. “I’m still in for sevent
y-five hundred.”
“What’s the interest rate?”
Cam chuckled. “The vig? It varies. Well, it goes up. If you don’t pay your debt down fast enough. Or if the guy who holds the marker is a jerk . . . which is definitely true in this case. Anyway, last I checked, it was up to thirty-five percent.”
Nikki sat up. “Thirty-five? Cam! That’s twenty-six twenty-five—on top of the principal.”
He smiled at her. “Wow, so you’re a math whiz too?”
She smiled back, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “I’ve always been really good with numbers.”
“Should have hooked up with you sooner.”
“Well, I wouldn’t have let you make a deal for thirty-five percent. You might still have your car.”
“Guess I’m just one of those people who can’t hold on to anything nice.”
Nikki nestled in closer to him. “Maybe you just need practice.”
THIRTEEN
EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT . . . until the morning. Until he realized it was time for Nikki to go home.
Home, as in where she lived with Miller.
Cam’s arms were wrapped around her, and he couldn’t make himself let go. “You can’t go back there.”
“I don’t have a choice, Cam. It’s where I live.”
“Yeah, well. People move every day, Nik.”
She sighed. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“I don’t know why you need to stay there. Not if you don’t . . . feel the same anymore. You don’t, do you? Feel . . .” Cam tried to finish the sentence, but couldn’t quite manage to get the words out.
Nikki leaned in close to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t. But James is . . . he’s not somebody you wanna mess with.”
Cam groaned. James. He so did not want to know the guy’s first name.
More than that, he didn’t want to imagine Nikki saying his first name. He shook himself, literally, and Nikki frowned.
“Cam. You have to hang in there. Until . . .”
“Until what, Nik? What’s gonna change for us, huh?”
